INTRO D U C T I O N LITERATURE OF EUROPE IN THE FIFTEENTH, SIXTEENTH, AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES. BY HENRY HALL AM, F. R. A. S., CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE ACADEMY OP MORAL AND POLITICAL SCIENCES IN THE FRENCH INSTITUTE. " De modo autem bujusmodi historic conscribendsa, illud imprimis monemua, ut materia el copia ejus, non tanlum ab historiis et critiris pciatur, verum ctiam per singulas annornm centurias, aut etiam minora intervalla, eriatim libri pncuipul, qui eo temporis spatio conscript! sunt, in consilium adhibeantur ; ut ex eorum non perlectione (id enim infinitum quiddam esset), scd dcgustatione, et observatione argument!, styli, methodi, genius illius temporis literarius, veluli incantatione quadam, a mortuis evocetur." BACOX, de Augm.Scient. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. NEW-YORK: PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET. 18 54 CONTENTS THE SECOND VOLUME. CHAPTER I. ISTORY OF ANCIENT LITERATURE IN EDROPE FROM 1600 TO 1650. Page Learning of 17th Century less Philological . J Popularity of Comenius 13 Decline of Greek Learning . . . .14 Casaubon 14 Viger de Idiotismis . . . . . .15 Weller's Greek Grammar . . . .15 Labbe and others 15 Salmasius de Lingua Hellenistica . . 15 Greek Editions : Savile's Chrysostom . . 16 Greek Learning in England . . . .16 Latin Editions : Torrentius . . . .17 Gruter 17 Heinsius 17 Grotius 17 Rutgersius, Reinesius, Barthius . . .17 Other Critics : English 1 Salmasius 1 Good Writers of Latin 1 Scioppius 1 His Philosophical Grammar .... 19 His Infamia Famiani ..... 20 Judicium de Stylo Historico . . . .20 Gerard Vossius, de Vitiis Sermonis . . 20 His Aristarchus 21 Progress of Latin Style 21 Gruter's Collection of Inscriptions . . .22 Assisted by Scaliger 22 Works on Roman Antiquity . . . .23 Geography of Cluverius 23 Meursius 23 Ubbo Emmius 23 Chronology of Lydiat. Calvisius . . .24 Petavius 24 Character of this work ..... 25 CHAPTER II. HISTORY OF THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE ROPE FROM 1600 TO 1650. Temporal Supremacy of Rome Contest with Venice Father Paul Sarpi . History of Council of Trent Gallican Liberties. Richer Perron .... Decline of Papal Power . Unpopularity of the Jesuits Richelieu's Care of Gallican Liberties . Controversy of Catholics and Protestants Increased respect for the Fathers . . Especially in England. Laud Defections to the Catholic Church . . Wavering of Casaubon .... And of Grotius Calixtus His Attempts at Concord High-church Party in England Dallle on the right Use of the Fathers . Chillingworth's Religion of Protestants . . 38 Character of this Work 38 Hales on Schism 40 Controversies on Grace and Free-will. Augus- tinian Scheme 40 Semi-pelagian Hypothesis . . . .41 Tenets of the Reformers 41 Rise of Arminianism . . . . .42 Episcopius 42 His Writings 42 Their Spirit and Tendency .... 42 Great latitude allowed by them . . .43 Progress of Arminianism . . . .43 Cameron 43 Rise of Jansenism 43 Socinus. Volkelius 44 Crellius. Ruarus 44 Erastianism maintained by Hooker and Grotius 45 His Treatse on the Ecclesiastical Power of the State 46 Remark upon this Theory . . . .47 Toleration of Religious Tenets . .48 Claimed by the Arminians . . . .48 By the Independents 48 And by Jeremy Taylor 48 His Liberty of Prophesying . . . .49 Boldness of his Doctrines . . . .49 His Notions of Uncertainty in Theological Ten- ets 49 His low Opinion of the Fathers . . .50 Difficulty of finding out Truth ... 50 Grounds of Toleration 51 Inconsistency of one Chapter . . . .51 His general Defence of Toleration . . .51 Effect of this Treatise 52 Its Defects .53 Great Erudition of this Period . . .53 Usher. Petavius . . ..... .53 Sacred Criticism 53 Grotius. Coccejus 54 English Commentators 54 Style of Preaching . . .-..* . 54 English Sermons 55 Of Donne 55 Of Jeremy Taylor 55 Devotional Writings of Taylor and Hall . 56 In the Roman ....... 56 And Lutheran Church 56 Infidelity of some Writers : Charron . . 56 Vanini . . 57 Lord Herbert of Cherbury .... 58 Grotius de Veritate 58 English Translation of the Bible ... 58 Its Style 58 CHAPTER III. HISTORY OF SPECULATIVS PHILOSOPHY FROM 1600 TO 1650. Subjects of this Chapter 59 Aristotelians and Ramists . . . .59 No Improvement till near the End of the Cen- tury 60 CONTENTS. Methods of the Universities .... 60 Scholastic Writers 60 Treatises on Logic 61 Campanella .... 61 His Theory taken from Telesio 61 Notion of Universal Sensibility 62 His Imagination and Eloquence 62 His Works published by Adaini 63 Basson 64 Berigard 64 Magnen 64 Paracelsists .64 And Theosophists 64 Fludd 64 Jacob Behmen 65 Lord Herbert De Veritate . . . .65 His Axioms 66 Conditions of Truth 66 Instinctive Truths 66 Internal Perceptions 67 Five Notions of Natural Religion . . .67 Remarks of Gassendi on Herbert . . .67 Gassendi's Defence of Epicurus . . .68 His chief Works after 1650 . . . .69 Preparation for the Philosophy of Lord Bacon 69 His Plan of Philosophy 69 Time of its Conception 69 Instauratio Magna 70 First Part : Partitiones Scientiarum . . 70 Second Part: Novum Organum . . .70 Third Part : Natural History . . . .71 Fourth Part: Scala Intellectus , .71 Fifth Part : Anticipations Philosophic . . 72 Sixth Part : Philosophia Secunda . . .72 Course of Studying Lord Bacon . .72 Nature of the Baconian Induction . . .73 His Dislike of Aristotle 74 His Method much required . . . .74 Its Objects ....... 75 Sketch of the Treatise De Augrnentis . . 75 History 75 Poetry . 75 Fine Passage on Poetry 75 Natural Theology and Metaphysics . . 75 Form of Bodies might sometimes be inquired into 75 Final Causes too much slighted . . 76 Man not included by him in Physics . . 76 Man in Body and Mind 76 Logic 77 Extent given it by Bacon . . . .77 Grammar and Rhetoric 77 Ethics . . 77 Politics . . 77 Theology ...... . 78 Desiderata enumerated by him . . 78 Novum Organum : First Book . . 78 Fallacies. Idola ... . 78 Confounded with Idols . . . 78 Second Book of the Novum Organum . . 79 Confidence of Bacon 80 Almost justified of late 80 But should be kept within Bounds . . .81 Limits to our Knowledge by Sense . . .81 Inductive Logic ; whether confined to Physics 82 Baconian Philosophy built on Observation and Experiment 82 Advantages of the latter 82 Sometimes applicable to Philosophy of Human Mind . . . . . . . 83 Less so to Politics and Morals . . 83 Induction less conclusive in these Subjects 83 Reasons for this Difference ... 84 Considerations on the other Side . . 84 Result of the Whole 85 Bacon's Aptitude for Moral Subjects . . 86 Comparison of Bacon and Galileo . . .86 His Prejudice against Mathematics . . 87 Bacon's Excess of Wit 88 Fame of Bacon on the Continent . . .88 Early Life of Descartes 90 His beginning to Philosophize . . .91 He retires to Holland 91 His Publications 91 He begins by Doubting all . . . .91 His first Step in Knowledge .... 92 His Mind not Skeptical 92 He arrives at more Certainty . . . .92 His Proof of a Deity 93 Another Proof of it 93 His Deduction from this 94 Primary and Secondary Qualities . . .94 Objections made to his Meditations . . 94 Theory of Memory and Imagination . . 95 Seat of Soul in the Pineal Gland . .96, Gassendi's Attacks on the Meditations . . 96* Superiority of Descartes 96 Stewart's Remarks on Descartes . . .97 Paradoxes on Descartes 98 His just Notion of Definitions . . . .99 His Notion of Substances . . . .100 Not quite Correct 100 His Notions of Intuitive Truth . . . 100 Treatise on Art of Logic 101 Merits of his Writings 101 His Notions of Free-will 101 Fame of his System, and Attacks upon it . 102 Controversy with Voet 102 Charges of Plagiarism 103 Recent Increase of his Fame .... 104 Metaphysical Treatises of Hobbes . . . 104 His Theory of Sensation 105 Coincident with Descartes .... 105 Imagination and Memory .... 105 Discourse or Train of Imagination . . . 106 Experience . . . . . . .106 Unconceivableness of Infinity .... 106 Origin of Language 107 His Political Theory interferes ... 107 Necessity of Speech exaggerated . . Use of Names Names universal not Realities . How imposed .... The Subject continued . 107 . 107 . 108 . 108 . 109 Names differently imposed .... 109 Knowledge 110 Reasoning . . . . . . .110 False Reasoning Ill Its Frequency 112 Knowledge of Fact not derived from Reasoning 112 Belief . . . . . . . .112 Chart of Science 113 Analysis of Passions 113 Good and Evil relative Terms . . .113 His Paradoxes 113 His Notion of Love 114 Curiosity 114 Difference of Intellectual Capacities . . 114 Wit and Fancy 115 Differences in the Passions . . . .115 Madness 115 Unmeaning Language ..... 115 Manners 116 Ignorances and Prejudice . . . .116 His Theory of Religion 116 Its supposed Sources 117 CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHy, AND OF JURISPRUDENCE, FROM 1600 TO 1650. Casuistical Writers 119 Importance of Confession . . . .119 CONTENTS. Necessity of Rules for the Confessor . .119 Increase of Casuistical Literature . . .119 Distinction of Subjective and Objective Moral- ity 120 Directory Office of the Confessor . . .120 Difficulties of Casuistry 120 Strict and lax Schemes of it . . . .121 Convenience of the latter . . . .121 Favoured by the Jesuits 121 The Causes of this 121 Extravagance of the strict Casuists . .121 Opposite Faults of Jesuits .... 122 Suarez, De Legibus 122 Titles of his ten Books 122 Heads of the Second Book . . . .123 Character of such Scholastic Treatises . . 123 Quotations of Suarez 123 His Definition of Eternal Law . . .124 Whether God is a Legislator? . . . . 124 Whether God could permit or commend Wrong Actions? 124 English Casuists : Perkins, Hall . . . 125 Selden, De Jure Naturali juxta Hebraeos . 125 Jewish Theory of Natural Law . . . 126 Seven Precepts of the Sons of Noah . .126 Character of Selden's Work . . . .126 Grotius and Hobbes 126 Charron on Wisdom . . . . . 126 La Mothe le Vayer. His Dialogues . . 127 Bacon's Essays 127 Their Excellence 128 Feltham's Resolves 128 Browne's Religio Medici 129 Selden's Table-talk 129 Osborn's Advice to his Son .... 130 John Valentine Andrea? 130 Abandonment of Anti-monarchical Theories . 131 Political Literature becomes Historical . . 131 Bellenden De Statu 131 Campanella's Politics 132 La Mothe le Vayer 132 Naude's Coups d'Etat 132 Patriarchal Theory of Government . . 132 Refuted by Suarez 132 His Opinion of Law . Bacon Political (Economy . Berra on the Means of ob aining Money with- out Mines . . ... 134 His Causes of Wealth . . .134 His Praise of Venice 135 Low Rate of Exchange not essential to Wealth 135 Hobbes. His Political Works . . .135 Analysis of his three Treatises . . . 136 Civil Jurists of this Period . . . .141 Suarez on Laws 141 Grotius, De Jure Belli et Pads . . .141 Success of this Work 142 Its Originality 142 Its Motive and Object . ... 142 His Authorities . ... 143 Foundation of Natural Law . . .143 Positive Law ... ... 143 Perfect and imperfect Rights . . . 144 Lawful Cases of War . . 144 Resistance by Subjects unlawful . . . 144 All Men naturally have Right of War . .145 Right of Self-defence 145 Its Origin and Limitations .... 145 Kight of Occupancy . . . . 146 Relinquishment of it 146 Right over Persons. By Generation . . 146 By Consent. In Marriage . . . .146 In Commonwealths 147 Right of alienating Subjects .... 147 Alienation by Testament 147 Rights of Property by Positive Law . Extinction of Rights .... Some Casuistical Questions . . . Promises Contracts Considered Ethically .... Promissory Oaths ..... Engagements of Kings towards Subjects Public Treaties Their Interpretation .... Obligation to repair Injury . . . Rights by Law of Nations . . . Those of Ambassadors .... Right of Sepulture Punishments Their Responsibility .... Insufficient Causes of War Duty of avoiding it And Expediency War for the sake of other Subjects . Allies Strangers None to serve in an unjust War . . Rights in War Use of Deceit Rules and Customs of Nations Reprisals . . . . . . . Declarations of War .... Rights by Law of Nations over Enemies Prisoners become Slaves . . . Right of Postliminium .... Moral Limitation of Rights in War . . Moderation required as to Spoil . . And as to Prisoners Also in Conquest And in Restitution to Right Owners Promises to Enemies and Pirates . Treaties concluded by competent Authority Matters relating to them .... Truces and Conventions .... Those of Private Persons Objections to Grotius made by Paley unreason able Reply of Mackintosh .... Censures of Stewart . . . Answer to them Grotius vindicated against Rousseau His Arrangement His Defects 147 147 147 149 148 148 149 149 149 150 150 151 151 151 151 152 153 153 153 M3 153 153 153 154 154 154 154 154 154 155 155 155 156 156 156 156 156 157 157 158 158 158 158 159 159 162 162 162 Low Estimation of the Seicentisti . . .163 Not quite so great as formerly . . . 163 Praise of them by Rubbi . . . . .163 Also by Sain 163 Adone of Marini 164 Its Character 164 And Popularity 164 Secchia Rapita of Tassoni . . . .165 Chiabrera 165 His Followers 166 The Styles of Spanish Poetry ... ' . .If The Romances 167 The Brothers Argensola 167 Villegas 168 Quevedo 168 Defects of Taste in Spanish Verse . . 168 Pedantry and far-fetched Allusions . . .169 Gongora 169 The Schools formed by him . . . .169 Malherbe 170 Criticisms upon his Poetry .... 170 Satires of Regnier . . .171 CHAPTER V. VI CONTENTS. Racan. 'Maynard . . . . . .17 Voiture. Sarrazin 17 Low State of German Literature . . .17 Literary Societies . . . .17 Opitz . . .... 17 His Followers . ..... 17 Dutch Poetry . 17 Spiegel 17 Hooft. Cats. Vondel 17 Danish Poetry 17 English Poets numerous in this Age . .17 Phineas Fletcher 17 Giles Fletcher 17 Philosophical Poetry 17. Lord Brooke 17; Denham's Cooper's Hill 17, Poets called Metaphysical . . . . 17i Donne . 17i Crashaw 176 Cowley 17i Johnson's Character of him . . . .17' Narrative Poets. Daniel .... 177 Dray ton's Polyolbion 1 Browne's Britannia's Pastorals . . .17$ Sir John Beaumont 17f Davenant's Gondibert 17 Sonnets of Shakspeare 175 The Person whom they address . . . 17< Sonnets of Drummond and others . . .180 Carew 181 Ben Jonson . 181 Wither . . . . . .181 Habington 18! Earl ot Pembroke 18! Suckling 182 Lovelace 182 Herrick 182 Milton 183 His Comus 183 Lycidas 184 Allegro and Penseroso . . . . .184 Ode on the Nativity 184 His Sonnets .184 Anonymous Poetry 184 Latin Poets of France 184 In Germany and Italy 185 In Holland. Heinsius ..... 185 Casimir -Sarbievius . . . . . .185 Barlaeus 185 Balde. Greek Poems of Heinsius . . . 186 Latin Poets of Scotland. Jonston's Psalms . 186 Owen's Epigrams 186 Alabaster's Itoxana 186 May's Supplement to Lucan .... 187 Milton's Latin Poems 187 CHAPTER VI. HISTORY OF DRAMATIC LITERATURE FROM 1600 TO 1650. Decline of the Italian Theatre . . .188 Filli di Sciro ..... .188 Translations of Spanish Dramas . . .189 Extemporaneous Comedy .... 189 Spanish Stage 189 Calderon : Number of his Pieces . . . 189 His Comedies 190 La Vida es Sueno 190 A Secreto agravio secreta venganqa . . 191 Style of Calderon . . . . . .191 His Merits sometimes overrated . . .192 Plays of Hardy 192 The Cid 193 Style of Comeille 194 Les Horaces ....... 194 China . . . . . . . . . 194 Polyeucte 195 Rodogune ....... 195 Pompey 195 Heraclius 195 Nicomede 196 Faults and Beauties of Comeille . . . 196 Le Menteur 196 Other French Tragedies . . . . . . .196 Wenceslas of Rotrou 196 Popularity of the Stage under Elizabeth . 197 Number of Theatres 197 Encouraged by James 197 General Taste for the Stage .... 197 Theatres closed by the Parliament . . . 198 Shakspeare's Twelfth Night . . . .198 Merry Wives of Windsor . . . .199 Measure for Measure . . . . 199 Lear .200 Timon of Athens 200 Pericles 201 His Roman Tragedies : Julius Caesar . . 202 Antony and Cleopatra ..... 202 Coriolanus . 202 His Retirement and Death .... 202 Greatness of his Genius 203 His Judgment 203 His Obscurity 204 His Popularity 204 Critics on Shakspeare 204 Ben Jonson 205 The Alchymist 205 Volpone, or The Fox 206 The Silent Woman 206 Sad Shepherd 206 Beaumont and Fletcher 206 Corrupt State of their Text .... 297 The Maid's Tragedy . . . . . 207 ffiilaster 208 ing and No King 208 The Elder Brother 208 The Spanish Curate 209 The Custom of the Country .... 209 The Loyal Subject 209 Beggar's Rush . . . _ . .210 The Scornful Lady 210 falentinian 210 The Two Noble Kinsmen . . . .210 The Faithful Shepherdess . . . .211 lule a Wife and have a Wife . . . . 21 1 Some other Plays 21L Drigin of Fletcher's Plays .... 212 Meets of their Plots 212 "^heir Sentiments and Style dramatic . . 212 heir Characters 213 'heir Tragedies 213 nferior to their Comedies . . . .213 heir Female Characters .... 213 rf assinger : Nature of his Dramas . . . 214 [is Delineations of Character . . . 215 [is Subjects 215 Jeauty of his Style ., 215 nferiority of his Comic Powers . . .215 "ome of his tragedies particularized . .215 nd of his other Plays 216 ord 216 hirley 217 'eywood . .217 Webster 217 "is Duchess of Malfy ..... 217 ittoria Corombona 218 CONTENTS. Vii CHAPTER VII. HISTORY OF POLITE LITERATURE IN PROSE FROM 1600 TO 1650. l'e Decline of Taste in Italy 219 Style of Galileo . . . . . . 219 Bentivoglio 220 Boccalini's News from Parnassus . . . 220 His Pietra del Paragone 220 Ferrante Pallavicino 221 Dictionary Delia Crusca 221 Grammatical Works : Buonmattei. Bartoli . 221 Tassoni's Remarks on Petrarch . . .221 Galileo's Remarks on Tasso . . . . 222 Sforza Pallavicino and other Critical Writers . 222 Prolusiones of Strada 222 Spanish Prose : Gracian 222 French Prose : Du Vair . . . . .223 Balzac 223 Character of his Writings . . . .223 His Letters 224 Voiture. Hotel Rambouillet . . . .224 Establishment of the French Academy . . 225 Its Objects and Constitution .... 226 It publishes a Critique on the Cid . . . 226 Vaugelas's Remarks on the French Language 227 La Mothe le Vayer 227 Legal Speeches of Patru ' . 227 And of Le Maistre 228 Improvement in English Style . . . 228 Earl of Essex 229 Knolles's History of the Turks . . .229 Raleigh's History of the World . . .230 Daniel's History of England . . . .230 Bacon 231 Milton 231 Clarendon 231 The Icon Basilice . . . ... .231 Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy . . . 232 Earle's Characters 232 Overbury's Characters 232 Jonson's Discoveries 232 Publication of Don Quixote . . . .233 Its Reputation 233 New Views of its Design .... 233 Probably Erroneous 234 Difference between the two Parts . . . 234 Excellence of this Romance .... 235 Minor Novels of Cervantes .... 235 Other Novels: Spanish 235 And Italian 235 French Romances : Astr6e .... 235 Heroic Romances : Gomberville . . . 236 Calprenede 236 Scuderi 237 Argenis of Barclay 237 His Euphormio 238 Campanella's City of the Sun . . . 238 Few Books of Fiction in England . . .238 Mundus Alter et Idem of Hall . . .238 Godwin's Journey to the Moon . . . 239 Howell's Dodona's Grove .... 239 Adventures of Baron de Fsneste . . . 239 CHAPTER VIII. HISTORY OP MATHEMATICAL AND PHYSICAL SCI- ENCE FROM 1600 TO 1650. State of Science in the 16th Century . 240 Tediousness of Calculations . . . 240 Napier's Invention of Logarithms . . 240 Their Nature 240 Property of Numbers discovered by Stifelius 240 Extended to Magnitudes .... 241 By Napier 241 Tables of Napier and Briggs . . . 241 Kepler's new Geometry 242 Its Difference from the Ancient Adopted by Galileo . Extended by Cavalieri Applied to the Ratios of Solids Problem of the Cycloid . Progress of Algebra . . . Briggs. Girard . . . . Harriott Descartes .... His Application of Algebra to Curves Suspected Plagiarism from Harriott Fermat Algebraic Geometry not successful at first Astronomy : Kepler .... Conjectures as to Comets Galileo's Discovery of Jupiter's Satellites Other Discoveries by him Spots of the Sun discovered . Copernican System held by Galileo . His Dialogues, and Persecution Descartes alarmed by this Progress of the Copeftiican System Descartes denies general Gravitation Cartesian Theory of the World Transits of Mercury and Venus . . Laws of Mechanics . . . . Statics of Galileo His Dynamics . . Mechanics of Descartes .... Law of Motion laid down by Descartes . Also those of Compound Forces Other Discoveries in Mechanics In Hydrostatics and Pneumatics Optics : Discoveries of Kepler Invention of the Telescope Of the Microscope Antonio de Dominis Dioptrics of Descartes. Law of Refraction Disputed by Fermat .... Curves of Descartes .... Theory of the Rainbow .... . 243 . 243 . 243 . 243 . 244 244 . 244 . 245 . 245 . 245 . 240 . 246 .247 . 247 . 247 . 248 . 248 . 248 . 249 . 249 . 249 . 250 . 250 . 251 . 251 . 251 . 251 . 252 . 253 . 253 . 253 . 253 . 254 . 254 . 255 . 255 . 255 . 255 . 256 . 256 CHAPTER IX. HISTORY OF SOME OTHER PROVINCES OF TURE FROM 1600 TO 1650. Aldrovandus Clusius Rio and Marcgraf Jonston Fabricius on the Language of Brutes . Botany : Columna John and Gaspar Bauhin .... Parkinson Valves of the Veins discovered Theory of the Blood's Circulation . Sometimes ascribed to Servetus To Columbus And to Caesalpin . . . / Generally unknown before Harvey . His Discovery Unjustly doubted to be Original Harvey's Treatise on Generation . . Lacteals discovered by Asellius . . Optical Discoveries of Scheiner Medicine : Van Helmont . . . Diffusion of Hebrew .... Language not studied in the best Method The Buxtorfs Vowel Points rejected by Cappel . Hebrew Scholars Chaldee and Syriac ... Arabic . Erpenius ..... Golius . Other Eastern Languages . . Purchas's Pilgrim ... . . 256 . 256 . 256 . 257 . 257 . 258 . 258 . 259 . 259 . 259 . 260 . 260 .261 . 261 . 261 . 262 . 262 . 262 . 262 . 262 . 263 263 . 263 . 264 . 264 . 265 . 265 . 265 . 265 . 265 . 266 CONTENTS. Olearius and Pietro della Valle Lexicon of Ferrari . Maps of Blaew Davila and Bentivoglio . Mendoza's Wars of Granada . Mezeray English Historians . English Histories Universities .... Bodleian Library founded Casaubon's Account of Oxford Catalogue of the Bodleian Library Continental Libraries Italian Academies . The Lincei .... Prejudice for Antiquity diminished Browne's Vulgar Errors . Life and Character of Peiresc 266 266 266 266 267 267 267 267 267 267 267 268 268 269 269 269 270 271 CHAPTER I. HISTORY OP ANCIENT LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1650 TO 1700. James Frederic Gronovius .... 272 James Gronovius 272 Graevius .272 Isaac Vossius 272 Decline of German Learning .... 272 Spanheim 273 Jesuit Colleges in France .... 273 Port-Royal Writers : Lancelot . . . 273 Latin Grammars : Perizonius . . . 273 Delphin Editions 273 Le Fevre and the Daciers .... 274 Henry Valois. Complaints of Decay of Learn- ing .....'... 274 English Learning : Duport . ; . . 274 Greek not much Studied 275 Gataker's Cinnus and Antoninus . . . 275 Stanley's ^Eschylus 275 Other English Philologers . . . .275 Bentley: His Epistle to Mill . . . .276 Dissertation on Phalaris 276 Disadvantages of Scholars in that Age . . 276 Thesauri of Graevius and of Gronovius . . 277 Fabretti 277 Numismatics : Spanheim. Vaillant . . 278 Chronology: Usher 278 Pezron ......... 278 Marsham 278 CHAPTER II. HISTORY OF THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE FROM 1650 TO 1700. Decline of Papal Influence .... 279 Dispute of Louis XIV. with Innocent XI. . 279 Four Articles of 1682 279 Dupin on the Ancient Discipline . . . 280 Dupin's Ecclesiastical Library . . . 280 Fleury's Ecclesiastical History . . .281 His Dissertations 281 Protestant Controversy in France . . . 281 Bossuet's Exposition of the Catholic Faith . 281 His Conference with Claude .... 282 Correspondence with Molanus and Leibnitz . 222 His Variations of Protestant Churches . . 283 Anglican Writings against Popery . . . 283 Taylor's Dissuasive 284 Barrow. Stillingfleet 284 Jansenius 284 Condemnation of his Augustinus in France . 284 And at Rome . 285 The Jansenists take a Distinction . . . 285 And are Persecuted 285 Progress of Arminianism .... 286 Courcelles 286 Limborch 286 Le Clerc 286 Sancroft's Fur Pradestinatus .... 287 Arminianism in England 287 Bull's Harmonia Apostolica .... 287 Hammond. Locke. Wilkins. . . . 288 Socinians in England 288 Bull's Defensio Fidei Nicenx .... 288 Not satisfactory to all 289 Mystics 289 Fenelon 289 Change in the Character of Theological Liter- ature 289 Freedom of many Writings .... 290 Thoughts of Pascal 290 Vindications of Christianity .... 292 Progress of tolerant Principles . . . 293 Bayle's Philosophical Commentary . . 293 Locke's Letter on Toleration .... 293 French Sermons 294 Bourdaloue 294 Compared with Bossuet 295 Funeral Discourses of Bossuet . . . 295 Flechier 296 English Sermons : Barrow .... 296 South 297 Tillotson 297 Expository Theology 297 Pearson on the Creed 297 Simon's Critical Histories .... 297 CHAPTER III. HISTORY OF SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY FROM 1650 TO 1700. Aristotelian Metaphysics Their Decline. Thomas White Logic Stanley's History of Philosophy Gale's Court of the Gentiles . Cudworth's Intellectual System Its Object . 298 . 299 . 299 . 300 . 30C . 300 . 300 Sketch of it 300 His plastic Nature 301 His Account of the old Philosophy . . . 301 His Arguments against Atheism . . .301 More 302 Gassendi 302 His Logic 302 His Theory of Ideas ... 303 And of the Nature of the Soul . 303 Distinguishes Ideas of Reflection . 304 Also Intellect from Imagination . 304 His Philosophy misunderstood by Stewa t 305 Bernier's Epitome of Gassendi . 305 Progress of the Cartesian Philosophy 306 La Forge. Regis .... 306 Huet's Censure of Cartesianism . 307 Port-Royal Logic 308 Malebranche 309 His Style 309 Sketch of his Theory 310 Character of Malebranche . . . .316 Compared with Pascal 316 Arnauld on True and False Ideas . . .316 Norris 317 Pascal 317 Spinosa's Ethics 318 Its general Originality 318 View f his Metaphysical Theory . . .319 Spinosa's Theory of Action and Passion . . 323 Character of Spinosism 324 Glanvil's Scepsis Scientifica . . . .325 CONTENTS. His Plus Ultra 326 Dalgarao 326 Wilkins 327 Locke on the Human Understanding . . 327 Its Merits 327 Its Defects 328 Origin of Ideas according to Locke . . 328 Vague Use of the word Idea .... 329 An Error as to Geometrical Figure . . . 330 His Notions as to the Soul .... 331 And its Immateriality ..... 332 His Love of Truth and Originality . . .332 Defended in two Cases 333 His View of Innate Ideas .... 333 General Praise 334 Locke's Conduct of the Understanding . . 334 CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, AND OF JURISPRUDENCE, KROM 1650 TO 1700. Casuistry of the Jesuits . Pascal's Provincial Letters Their Truth questioned by some Taylor's Ductor Dubitantium . Its Character and Defects Cudworth's Immutable Morality Nicole. La Placette . Other Writers Moral System of Spinosa Cumberland's De Legibus Naturas . Analysis of Prolegomena His Theory expanded afterward Remarks on Cumberland's Theory . Puffendorfs Law of Nature and Nations Analysis of this Work . Puffendorf and Paley compared Rochefoucault La Bruyere . .... Education : Milton's Tractate Locke on Education : its Merits And Defects Fenelon on Female Education PuffendorPs Theory of Politics Politics of Spinosa His Theory of a Monarchy Amelot de la Houssaye .... Harrington's Oceana .... PatriarchaofFilmer . Sidney's Discourses on Government Locke on Government . Observations on this Treatise . Avis aux Refugiez, perhaps by Bayle Political Economists .... Mun on Foreign Trade .... Child on Trade Locke on the Coin Statistical Tracts Works of Leibnitz on Roman Law . Civil Jurists : Godefroy. Domat . Noodt on Usury Law of Nations. Puffendorf. . 335 . 335 . 335 . 336 . 336 . 336 . 337 . 337 . 337 . 338 . 339 . 340 . 343 . 344 . 344 . 347 . 348 . 348 . 349 . 349 . 350 . 352 . 353 . 355 . 356 . 357 . 357 . 358 . 358 . 358 . 362 . 362 . 363 . 363 . 363 . 364 . 364 . 365 . 366 . 366 . 366 CHAPTER V. HISTORY OF POETRY FROM 1650 TO 1700. Improved Tone of Italian Poetry . . . 367 Filicaja 367 Guidi 367 Menzini 368 Salvator Rosa. Redi 368 Other Poets 368 Christina's Patronage of Letters . . . 369 Society of Arcadians 369 La Fontaine 369 Character of his Fables 369 Boileau : His Epistles .... 370 His Art of Poetry 370 Comparison with Horace . The Lutrin .... General Character of his Poetry Lyric Poetry lighter than before Benserade .... Chaulieu . . . . * ' . Pastoral Poetry Segrais Deshoulieres . Fontenelle Bad Epic Poems German Poetry Waller . Butler's Hudibras ^ Paradise Lost : Choice of Subject . Open to some Difficulties Its Arrangement Characters of Adam and Eve . He owes less to Homer than the Tragedians Compared with Dante .... Elevation of his Style .... His Blindness His Passion for Music .... Faults in Paradise Lost .... Its Progress to Fame .... Paradise Regained Samson Agonistes ..... Dryden : his earlier Poems . . . Absalom and Achitophel .... Mac Flecknoe The Hind and Panther .... Its singular Fable ..... Its Reasoning The Fables His Odes : Alexander's Feast . His Translation of Virgil Decline of Poetry from the Restoration . Some minor Poets enumerated Latin Poets of Italy Ceva Sergardi . Of France: Quillet Menage Rapin on Gardens Santeul . Latin Poetry in England . 370 , 371 . 371 . 371 , 371 , 371 , 371 372 , 372 , 372 372 372 372 373 373 373 373 374 374 374 375 376 376 376 376 377 377 377 378 378 379 379 379 379 380 380 380 380 381 381 381 381 381 382 382 383 CHAPTER VI. HISTORY OF DRAMATIC LITERATURE FROM TO 1700. Italian and Spanish Drama Racine's first Tragedies .... Andromaque Britannicus Berenice Bajazet Mithridate Iphige'nie Phedre Esther Athalie Racine's Female Characters . Racine compared with Corneille Beauty of his Style . Thomas Corneille : his Ariane Manlius of La Fosse . Moliere L'Avare L'Ecole des Femmes .... Le Misanthrope Les Femmes Savantes .... Tartuffe Bourgeois Gentilhomme. George Dandin Character of Moliere .... Les Plaideurs of Racine . . . . Rognard, Le Joueur .... His other Plays .... 1650 . 383 . 383 . 383 . 383 . 384 . 385 . 385 . 385 . 386 . 386 . 387 38i 387 388 388 389 389 389 390 390 390 390 391 391 392 392 398 CONTENTS. Quinault. BoursauH ..... 392 Dancourt 393 Brueys . 393 Operas of Quinault . . . ... 393 Revival of the English Theatre . . .393 Change of Public Taste 394 Its Causes 394 Heroic Tragedies of Dryden . . . .394 His later Tragedies 395 Don Sebastian 395 Spanish Friar 395 Otway 396 Southern 396 Lee 396 Congreve 396 Comedies of Charles II.'s Reign . . .396 Wycherley 397 Improvement after the Revolution . . . 397 Congreve . . . . . . . 397 Love for Love 398 His other Comedies 398 Farquhar. Vanbrugh 398 CHAPTER VII. BISTORT OF POLITE LITERATURE IN FROSE FROM 1650 TO 1700. Low State of Literature in Italy 399 Crescimbeni ... 399 Age of Louis XIV. in France 399 Fontenelle : his Character 399 His Dialogues of the Dead 400 Those of Fenelon . . 400 Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds 400 His History of Oracles 401 St. Evremond 401 Madame de Sevigne 401 The French Academy 402 French Grammars 402 Bouhours' Entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugene . 402 Attacked by Barbier d'Aucour . . 403 La Maniere de. Bien Penser . . . 404 Rapin's Reflections on Eloquence and Poetry 404 His Parallels qf Great Men . : . .404 Bossu on Epic Poetry ... . 405 Fontenelle's Critical Writings . . 405 Preference of French Language to Latin . 405 General Superiority of Ancients disputed . 405 Charles Perrault 405 Fontenelle . 406 Boileau's Defence of Antiquity . . .406 First Reviews. Journal des Sijavans . . 406 Reviews established by Bayle .... 407 And Le Clerc 407 Leipsic Acts 408 Bayle's Thoughts on the Comet . . .408 His Dictionary . . . . . . 408 Baillet. Morhof ...... 409 The Ana 409 English Style in this Period . . . .409 Hobbes , . .410 Cowley 410 Evelyn 410 Dryden 410 His Essay on Dramatic Poesy . . .411 Improvements in his Style . . . .411 His critical Character . . . . . 411 Rymer on Tragedy . . . . . . 412 Sir William Temple's Essays . . . .412 Style of Locke 412 Sir George Mackenzie's Essays . . . 413 Andrew Fletcher 413 Walton's Complete Angler . . . .413 Wilkins's New World 413 Antiquity defended by Temple . . .414 Wotton's Reflections 414 Quevedo's Visions 414 French Heroic Romances .... 414 Pag* Novels of Madame la Fayette . . . 414 Scarron's Roman Comique .... 415 Cyrano de Bergerac 4)5 Segrais 415 Perrault 416 Hamilton 416 Tel6maque of Fenelon . . . .416 Deficiency of English Romances . . . 417 Pilgrim's Progress 417 Turkish Spy 417 Chiefly of English Origin . . . .418 Swift's Tale of a Tub 419 CHAPTER VIII. HISTORY OF PHYSICAL AND OTHER LITERATURK FROM 1650 TO 1700. Reasons for omitting Mathematics . . .419 Academy del Cimento 420 Royal Society 420 Academy of Sciences at Paris . . . 420 State of Chymistry 421 Becker 421 Boyle 421 His Metaphysical Works . . . .421 Extract from one of them .... 422 His Merits in Physics and Chymistry . . 422 General Character of Boyle .... 422 Of Hooker and others 422 Lemery 423 Slow Progress of Zoology . . . .423 Before Ray 423 His Synopsis of Quadrupeds .... 423 Merits of this Work 424 Redi 424 Swammerdam 424 Lister 424 Comparative Anatomy 424 Botany 425 Jungius 425 Morison 425 Ray . 425 Rivinus 426 Tournefort 426 Vegetable Physiology 427 Grew 427 His Anatomy of Plants . . . . . 427 He discovers the Sexual System . . . 427 Camerarius confirms this 427 Predecessors of Grew 428 Malpighi 428 Early Notions of Geology .... 428 Burnet's Theory of the Earth . . . .428 Other Geologists 429 Protogaea of Leibnitz 429 Circulation of the Blood established . .430 Willis. Vieussens 430 Malpighi 430 Other Anatomists ...... 430 Medical Theories 430 Polyglott of Walton 431 Hottinger 431 Spencer 431 Bochart 431 Pococke 432 D'Herbelot . . . . . . .432 Hyde . 432 Maps of the Sansons ..... 432 De Lisle's Map of the World . . . .432 Voyages and Travels 433 Historians 433 De Soils 433 Memoirs of De Retz 433 Bossuet on Universal History .... 433 English Historical Works . . . .434 Burnet . 434 General Character of the 17th Century . . 434 Conclusion . ... . . . 434 ! LITERATURE OF EUROPE IN THE FIFTEENTH, SIXTEENTH, AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES. CHAPTER I. HISTORY OF ANCIENT LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1600 TO 1650. SECTION I. Decline of merely Philological, especially Greek, Learning. Casaubon. Vigor. Editions of Greek and Latin Classics. Critical Writings. Latin Style. Scioppius. Vossius. Successive Periods of Modern Latinists. 1. IN every period of literary history, if Learning of we should listen to the com- tne nth cen- plaints of contemporary wri- oiogicaT phU " ters> a ^ l earmn an( i science have been verging towards ex- tinction. None remain of the mighty ; the race of giants is no more ; the lights that have been extinguished burn in no other hands ; we have fallen on evil days, when letters are no longer in honour with the world, nor are they cultivated by those who deserve to be honoured. Such are the lam- entations of many throughout the whole sixteenth century ; and with such do Sca- liger and Casaubon greet that which open- ed upon them. Yet the first part of the seventeenth century may be reckoned em- inently the learned age ; rather, however, in a more critical and exact erudition with respect to historical fact, than in what is strictly called philology, as to which we cannot, on the whole, rank this so high as the preceding period. Neither Italy nor Germany maintained its reputation, which, as it has been already mentioned, had be- gun to wane towards the close of the six- teenth century. The same causes were at work, the same preference of studies very foreign to polite letters, metaphysi- cal philosophy, dogmatic theology, patris- tic or mediaeval ecclesiastical history, or, in some countries, the physical sciences, which were rapidly gaining ground. And to these we must add a prevalence of bad taste, even among those who had some pretensions to be reckoned scholars. Lip- sius had set an example of abandoning the purest models ; and his followers had less sense and taste than himself. They sought obsolete terms from Pacuvius and Plautus ; they affected pointed sentences, and a studied conciseness of period, which made their style altogether dry and je- june.* The universities, and even the gymnasia or schools of Germany, grew negligent of all the beauties of language. Latin itself was acquired in a slovenly manner, by the help of modern books, which spared the pains of acquiring any subsidiary knowledge of antiquity. And this neglect of the ancient writers in edu- cation caused even eminent scholars to write ill, as we perceive in the supple- ments of Freinshemius to Curtius and Livy.f 2. A sufficient evidence of this is found in the vast popularity which the p opu i ar jty writings of Comenius acquired in of Come- Germany. This author, a man nius - of much industry, some ingenuity, and little judgment, made himself a colossal reputation by his Orbis Sensualium Pictus, and still more by his Janua Linguarum Reserata, the latter published in 1631. This contains, in 100 chapters subdivided into 1000 paragraphs, more than 9300 Latin words, exclusive, of course, of such as recur. The originality of its method consists in weaving all useful words into a series of paragraphs, so that they may be learned in a short time, without the te- diousness of a nomenclature. It was also intended to blend a knowledge of things * Biogr. Univ., art. Gramus. Eichhorn, iii., I. 320. t Eichhorn, 326. 14 LITERATURE OF EUROPE with one of words.* The Orbis Sensuali- um Pictus has the same end. This is what has since been so continually attempted in books of education, that some may be surprised to hear of its originality. No one, however, before Comenius seems to have thought of this method. It must, unquestionably, have appeared to facilitate the early acquirement of knowledge in a very great degree ; and, even with refer- ence to language, if a compendious mode of getting at Latin words were the object, the works of Comenius would answer the purpose beyond those of any classical au- thor. In a country where Latin was a living and spoken tongue, as was in some measure the case with Germany, no great strictness in excluding barbarous phrases is either practicable or expedient. But, according to the received principles of philological literature, they are such books as every teacher would keep out of the hands of his pupils. They were, never- theless, reprinted and translated in many countries", and obtained a general recep- tion, especially in the German empire, and similarly circumstanced kingdoms. f 3. The Greek language, meantime, was Decline thought unnecessary, and few, com- of Greek paratively speaking, continued to learning. prosecu t e j ts study. In Italy it can merely be said that there were still professors of it in the universities ; but no one Hellenist distinguishes this centu- ry. Most of those who published editions of Greek authors in Germany, and they were far from numerous, had been formed in the last age. The decline was progress- ive ; few scholars remained after 1620, and a long blank ensued, until Fabricius and Kuster restored the study of Greek near the end of the century. Even in France and Holland, where many were abundantly learned, and some, as we shall see, accom- plished philologers, the Greek language seems to have been either less regarded, * Biogr. Univ. t Baillet, Critiques Grammairiens, part of the Jugemens des Sqavans (whom I cite by the num- ber or paragraph, on account of the different edi- tions), No. 634, quotes Lancelot's remark on the Janua Linguarum, that it requires a better memory than most boys possess to master it, and that, com- monly, the first part is forgotten before the last is learned. It excites disgust in the scholar, because he is always in a new country, every chapter being filled with words he has not seen before ; and the successive parts of the book have no connexion with one another. Morhof, though he would absolutely banish the Janua Linguarum from all schools where good La- tinity i3 required, seems to think rather better of the Orbis Sensualium Pictus, as in itself a happ; idea, though the delineations are indifferent, and th< whole not so welfarranged as it might be. Poly histor, lib. ii., c. 4. or, at least, less promoted by eminent scholars than in the preceding century.* 4. Casaubon now stood on the pinnacle of critical renown. His Persius n 1605, and his Polybius in 1609, were testimonies to his continued industry n this province.! But with this latter edi- ;ion the philological labours of Casaubon came to an end. In 1610 he accepted the 'nvitatjon of James I., who bestowed upon him, though a layman, a prebend in. the church of Canterbury, and, as some, per- tiaps erroneously, have said, another in that of Westminster.J He died in Eng- land within four years after, having con- sumed the intermediate time in the de- fence of his royal patron against the Jes- uits, and in writing Animadversions on the Annals of Baronius ; works ill suited to his peculiar talent, and in the latter of which he is said to have had but little suc- cess. He laments, in his epistles, the want of leisure for completing his labours on Polybius ; the king had no taste but for theology, and he found no library in which he could pursue his studies. " I gave up," * Scaliger, even in 1602, says: Quis hodienescit Greece ? sed quis est doctus Graece? Non dubito esse aliquot, sed paucos, et quqs non novi ne de nomine quidem. Te unum novi et memoris avp- rum et nostri saeculi Graece doctissimum, qui unis in Graecis praestiteias, quae post renatas apud nos bonas literas omnes nunquam praestare potuissent. He goes on to speak of himself as standing next to Casaubon, and the only competent judge of the extent of his learning; qui de praestantia doctrinae tuse certo judicare possit, ego aut unicus sum, aut qui caeteros hac in re magno intervallo vinco. Seal., Epist. 72. t The translation that Casaubon has here given of Polybius has generally passed for excellent, though some have thought him a better scholar in Greek than in Latin, and consequently not always able to render the sense as well as he conceived it. Baillet, n. 902. Schweighauser praises the an- notations, but not without the criticism for which a later editor generally finds room in an earlier. Reiske, he says, had pointed out many errors. J The latter is contradicted by Beloe, Anecdotes of Literature, vol. v., p. 126, on the authority of Le Neve's Fas'ti Ecclesia? Anglicans. \/ Jacent curas Polybianae, et fortasse aetemum ja- cebunt, neque enim satis commodus ad ilia studia est locus. Epist. 705. Plura adderem, nisi omni librorum praesidio meorum deficerer. Quare etiam de commentariis Polybianis noli meminisse, quando rationes priorum meorum studiorum hoc iter miri- fic& conturbavit, ut vix sine suspirio ejus incepti possim meminisse, quod tot vigiliis mini constitit. Sed neque adest mea bibliptheca, neque ea studia multum sunt ad gustum illius, cujus solius, quam- diu hie sum futurus, habenda mini ratio. Ep. 704 (Feb., 1611). Rexoptimus atque nxrtfitoraToj rebus theologicis ita delectatur, ut aliis curis literariis non multum operae impendat. Ep. 872. Ego quid hie agam, si cupis scire, hoc unum respondebo, omnia priora studia mea funditus interiisse. Nam maxi- mus rex et liberalissimus unico genere literamm sic capitur, ut suum et suorum ingenia in illo detineat, Ep. 753. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 15 he says, " at last, with great sorrow, my commentary on Polybius, to which I had devoted so much time, but the good king must be obeyed."* Casaubon was the last of the great scholars of the sixteenth cen- tury. Joseph Scaliger, who, especially in his recorded conversation, was very spa- ring of praise, says expressly, " Casaubon is the most learned man now living." It is not impossible that he meant to except himself, which would by no means be un- just, if we take in the whole range of er- udition ; but in the exactly critical knowl- edge of the Greek language, Casaubon had not even a rival in Scaliger. 5. A long period ensued, during which no Viger de very considerable progress was Wiotismis. made in Greek literature. Few books occur before the year 1650 which have obtained a durable reputation. The best known, and, as I conceive, by far the best of a grammatical nature, is that of Viger de Idiotismis praecipuis Gracae Lin- guae, which Hoogeveen and Zeunius suc- cessively enlaced in the last century. Viger was a Jesuit of Rouen, and the first edition was in 1632. It contains, even as it came from the author, many valu- able criticisms, and its usefulness to a Greek scholar is acknowledged. But, in order to determine the place of Viger among grammarians, we should ascertain, by comparison with preceding works, es- pecially the Thesaurus of Stephens, for how much he is indebted to their labours. He would probably, after all deductions, appear to merit great praise. His ar- rangement is more clear, and his knowl- edge of syntax more comprehensive, than that of Caninius or any other earlier wri- ter ; but his notions are not unfrequently imperfect or erroneous, as the succeeding editors have pointed out. In common with many of the older grammarians, he fancied a difference of sense between the two aorists, wherein even Zeunius has followed him.f 6. In a much lower rank we may, per- Weiier's haps, next place Weller, author of Greek a Greek grammar, published in grammar. 1638) of w hi c h i ts later editor, Fischer, says that it has always stood in high repute as a schoolbook, and been fre- * Decessi gemens a Polybiano commentario, quern tot laboribus concinnaveram ; sed regi optimo parendum erat Ep. 854 , Feb., 1613. t An earlier treatise on Greek particles by De- varius, a Greek of the Ionian Islands, might have been mentioned in a former place. It was repub- lished by Reusmann, who calls Devarius homo olim baud ignobilis, at hodie paene neglectus. He is thought too subtle in grammar, but seems to have been an excellent scholar. I do not perceive that Viger has borrowed from him. quently reprinted ; meaning, doubtless, in Germany. There is nothing striking in Weller's grammar ; it may deserve praise for clearness and brevity ; but in Vergara, Caninius, and Sylburgius there is much more instruction for those who are not merely schoolboys. What is most re- markable is, that Weller claims as his own the reduction of the declensions to three, and of the conjugations to one ; which, as has been seen in our first volume,* is found in the grammar of Sylburgius, and is prob- ably due to Ramus. This is rather a piece of effrontery, as he could scarcely have lighted by coincidence on both these inno- vations. Weller has given no syntax; what is added in Fischer's edition is by Lambert Bos. 7. Philip Labbe, a French Jesuit, was a laborious compiler, among whose Labbe and numerous works not a few relate ">ers. to the grammar of the Greek language. He had, says Niceron, a wonderful talent in multiplying title-pages ; we have fifteen or sixteen grammatical treatises from him, which might have been comprised in two or three ordinary volumes. Labbe's Reg- uke Accentuum, published in 1635, was once, I believe, of some repute ; but he has little or nothing of his own.f The Greek grammars published in this age by Alexander Scot and others are ill-digested, according to Lancelot, without order or principle, and full of useless and perplex- ing things ;J and that of Vossius, in 1642, which is only an improved edition of that of Clenardus, appears to contain little which is not taken from others. $ Eras- mus Schmidt is said by Eichhorn to be the author of a valuable work on Greek dia- lects ;|| George Pasor is better, known by his writings on the Hellenistic dialect, or that of the Septuagint and New Testa- ment. Salmasius, in his Commentarius de Hellenistica (Leyden, 1643), Salmasius has gone very largely into this de Linguas subject. This, he says, is a Hellenistica. question lately agitated, whether there be a peculiar dialect of the Greek Scriptures ; For, in the last age, the very name of Hel- lenistic was unknown to scholars. It is not above half a century old. It was sup- posed to be a Hebrew idiom in Greek words ; which, as he argues elaborately and with great learning, is not sufficient to constitute a distinct dialect, none of the ancients having ever mentioned one by this name. This is evidently much of a verbal dispute ; since no one would apply the word to the Scriptural Greek, in the * Page 252, col. i. f Niceron, vol. xxv. t Baillet, n. 706. $ Id., n. 711. U Oeschichte der Cultur, iii., 325. 16 same sense that he does to the Doric and Attic. Salmasius lays down two essen- tial characteristics of a dialect : one, that it should be spoken by people differing in locality ; another, that it should be distin- guishable by single words, not merely by idiom. A profusion of learning is scattered all round, but not pedantically or imperti- nently ; and this seems a very useful book in Greek or Latin philology. He may, per- haps, be thought to underrate the peculiar- ities of language in the Old and New Tes- taments, as if they were merely such as passed current among the contemporary Greeks. The second part of this Com- mentary relates to the Greek dialects gen- erally, without reference to the Hellenis- tic. He denies the name to what is usu- ally called the common dialect, spoken, or at least written, by the Greeks in general lifter the time of Alexander. This also is, of course, a question of words ; perhaps Salmasius used a more convenient phra- seology than what is often met with in grammarians. 8. Editions of Greek classics are not so numerous as in the former period. The Pindar of Erasmus Schmidt in 1614, and the Aristotle of Duval in 1619, may be mentioned : the latter is still in request, as a convenient and complete edition. Meursius was reckoned a good critical scholar, but his works as an editor are not very important. The chief monument of his philological erudition is the Lexicon Greek edi- Graeco-Barbarum, a glossary of tions-sa- the Greek of the lower empire. rsie'sChry- But no edition of a Greek au- lom * thor published in the -first part of the seventeenth century is superior, at least in magnificence, to that of Chrysos- tom by Sir Henry Savile. This came forth, in 1612, from a press established at Eton by himself, provost of that college. He had procured types and pressmen in Hol- land, and three years had been employed in printing the eight volumes of this great work; one which, both in splendour of execution and in the erudition displayed in it by Savile, who had collected several manuscripts of Chrysostom, leaves im- measurably behind it every earlier produc- tion of the English press. The expense, which is said to have been eight thousand pounds, was wholly defrayed by himself, and the tardy sale of so voluminous a work could not have reimbursed the cost.* * Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. v., p. 103. The copies sold for 9Z. each ; a sum equal to nearly 301. at present, and from the relative wealth of the country, to considerably more. What wonder that the sale was slow ? Fuller, however, tells us, that when he wrote, almost half a century afterward, the book was become scarce. Chrysostomus, says Another edition, in fact, by a Jesuit, Fron- to Ducacus (Fronton le Due), was publish- ed at Paris within two years afterward, having the advantage of a Latin transla- tion, which Savile had imprudently waved. It has even been imputed to Ducaeus, that, having procured the sheets of Savile's edition from the pressmen while it was under their hands, he printed his own with- out alteration. But this seems an apocry- phal story.* Savile had the assistance, in revising the text, of the most learned co- adjutors he could find in England. 9. A very few more Greek books were printed at Eton soon afterward ; G reek and, though that press soon ceas- learning in ed, some editions of Greek au- En s land - thors, generally for schools, appeared in England before 1650. One of these, the Poetae Minores of Winterton, is best known, and has sometimes been reprint- ed ; it does little credit to its original edi- tor, the text being exceedingly corrupt, and the notes very trifling. The Greek lan- guage, however, was now much studied ;f Casaubon, a Savilio editur pnvata impensa, animo regio. Ep. 738 (apud Beloe). The principal as- sistants of Savile were, Matthew Bust, Thomas Allen, and especially Richard Montagu, afterward celebrated in our ecclesiastical history as Bishop of Chichester, who is said to have corrected the text before it went to the press. As this is the first work of learning, on a great scale, published in England, it deserves the particular commemoration of those to whom we owe it. " It is told by Fuller, and I do not know that it has any independent confirmation. Savile himself says of Fronto Ducasus, " Vir doctissimus, et cui Chrysostomus noster plurimum debet." Fuller, it may be observed, says, that the Parisian edition followed Savile's "in a few months," whereas the time was two years ; and, as Brunei (Manuel du Li* braire) justly observes, there is no apparent neces- sity to suppose an unfair communication of the sheets, even if the text should be proved to be cop- ied. t It might appear, at first sight, that Casaubon intended to send his son Meric to Holland, under the care of Heinsius, because he could not get a good classical education in England. Cupio in Graecis, Latinis, et Hebraicis literis ipsum serio ex- erceri. Hoc in Anglia posse fieri sperare non pos- surrius ; nam hie locupletissima sunt collegia, sed quorum ratio toto genere diversa est ab institutis omnium aliorum collegiorum. Ep. 962(1614). But possibly he meant that, on account of his son's for- eign birth, he could not be admitted on the founda- tion of English colleges, though the words do not clearly express this. At the king's command, how- ever, Meric was sent to Oxford. One of Casau- bon's sons went to Eton school ; literis dat operam in gymnasio Etoniensi. Ep. 737 (apud Beloe's An- ecdotes ; I had overlooked the passage). Theolog- ical learning, in the reign of James, opposed polite letters and philology. Est in Anglia, says Casau bon, theologorum ingens copia ; eoenim fere omne studia sua referunt. Ep. 762. Venio ex Anglia (Grotius writes in 1613), literarum ibi tenuis est merces; theologi regnant, leguleii rem faciunt ; unus ferme Casaubonus habet fortunam satis faven- tem, sed, ut ipse judicat, minus certain. Ne huic FROM 1600 TO 1650. 17 the age of James and Charles was truly learned; our writers are prodigal of ar abundant erudition, which embraces a far wider range of authors than are now read the philosophers of every class, the poets the historians and orators of Greece, to vhom few comparatively had paid regard ill the days of Elizabeth, seem as familiar to the miscellaneous writers of her next successors as the fathers of the church are to the theologians. A few, like Jere- my Taylor, are equally copious in their li- bations from both streams. But, though thus deeply read in ancient learning, our old scholars were not very critical in phi- lology. 10. In Latin criticism, the pretensions Latin edi- f the seventeenth century are nous : Tor- far more considerable than in rentius. Greek. The first remarkable edition, however, that of Horace by Tor- rentius, a Belgian ecclesiastic, though it appeared in 1602, being posthumous, be- longs strictly to the preceding age. It has been said that Dacier borrowed much for his own notes from this editor ; but Hor- ace was so profusely illustrated in the six- teenth century, that little has been left for later critics, except to tamper, as they have largely done, with his text. This period is not generally conspicuous for editions of Latin authors ; but some names of high repute in grammatical and critical lore belong to it. 11. Gruter, a native of Antwerp, who became a professor in several Ger- lter- man universities, and finally in that of Heidelberg, might have been mentioned in our history of the sixteenth century, before the expiration of which some of his critical labours had been accomplished. Many more belong to the first twenty years of the present. No more diligent and indefatigable critic ever toiled in that quarry. His Suspiciones, an early work, in which he has explained and amended miscellaneous passages, his annotations on the Senecas, on Martial, on Statius, on the Roman historians, as well as another more celebrated compilation which we shall have soon to mention, bear witness to his immense industry. In Greek he did comparatively but little ; yet he is counted among good scholars in that lan- guage. All others of his time, it has been said, appear mere drones in comparison with him.* Scaliger, indeed, though on in- timate terms with Gruter, in one of his usual fits of spleen, charges him with a tasteless indifference to the real merit of quidem -locus fuisset in Anglia ut literatori, theolo- gum induere debuit. Epist. Grot., p. 751. * Baillet, n. 483. Bayle. Niceron, vol. ix. VOL. II. C the writers whom he explained, one being as good as another for his purpose, which was only to produce a book.* In this art Gruter was so perfect, that he never failed to publish one every year, and sometimes every month.t His eulogists have given him credit for acuteness and judgment, and even for elegance and an agreeable variety ; but he seems not to have preserv- ed much repute except for his laborious erudition. 12. Daniel Heinsius, conspicuous as sec- retary of the Synod of Dort, and a . Latin poet of distinguished name, was also among the first philologers of his age. Many editions of Greek and Latin writers, or annotations upon them, The- ocritus, Hesiod, Maximus Tyrius, Aristo- tle, Horace, Terence, Silius, Ovid, attest his critical skill. He is praised for a ju- dicious reserve in criticism, avoiding the trifles by which many scholars had weari- ed their readers, and attending only to what really demanded the aid of a critic, as being corrupt or obscure. His learn- ing was very extensive and profound, so that, in the panegyrical tone of the times, he is set above all the living and almost above all the dead.J 13. Grotius contributed much to ancient philology. His editions of Aratus, . Stobaius, the fragments of the lost Greek dramas, Lucan, and Tacitus, are but a part of those which he published. In the power of illustrating a writer by par- allel or resembling passages from others, however remote, his taste and fondness for poetry, as much as his vast erudition, have made him remarkable. In mere crit- ical skill he was not quite so great a mas- ter of the Greek as of the Latin language ; nor was he equal to restoring the text of the dramatic poets. 14. The Variae Lectiones of Rutgersius in 1618, whose premature death nmgersius, cut off a brilliant promise of er- Reinesius,' udition, are in six books, almost Barthlus - entirely devoted to emendation of the text, n such a miscellaneous and desultory se- ries of criticisms as the example of Tur- nebus and other scholars had rendered usual. Reinesius, a Saxon physician, in 1640 put forth a book with the same title, a thick volume of about 700 pages, of multifarious learning, chiefly, but not ex lusively, classical. He is- more interpre- * Non curat utrum chartasit cacata, modo libros multos excudat. Scalig. Secunda. t Bayle, note i. I Baillet, n. 517. "This work," says Niceron (vol. xxxii.), "is n esteem : the style is neat and polite, the thoughts re just and refined ; it has no more quotations than he subject requires." 18 LITERATURE OF EUROPE tative, and less attentive to restore cor- rupted texts than Rutgersius.* The Ad- versaria of Caspar Barthius are better known. This work is in 60 books, and ex- tends to about 1500 pages in folio. It is ex- actly like those of Turnebus and Muretus, an immense repertory of unconnected crit- icisms and other miscellaneous erudition. The chapters exceed in number the pages, and each chapter contains several articles. There is, however, more connexion, alpha- betical or otherwise, than in Turnebus ; and they are less exclusively classical, many relating to mediaeval and modern writers. The sixtieth book is a commen- tary on apart of Augustin de Civitate Dei. It is difficult to give a more precise notion of Barthius ; he is more esthetic than Turnebus, but less so than Muretus ; he explains and corrects fewer intricate texts than the former, but deals more in paral- lel passages and excursive illustration. f Though Greek appears more than in Tur- nebus, by far the greater part of Barthius's Adversaria relates to Latin, in the propor- tion of at least fifteen to on. A few small poems are printed from manuscripts for the first time. Barthius, according to Morhof, though he sometimes explains au- thors very well, is apt to be harsh in his alterations, hasty in his judgments, and has too much useless and frivolous mat- ter. Bayle is not more favourable. Bar- thius published an edition of Statius, and another of Claudian. 15. Rigault or Rigaltius, Petit, Thysius, * Bayle observes of the writings of Keinesins in general, that "good judges of literature have no sooner read some pages but they place him above those philologers who have only a good memory, and rank him with critics who go beyond their read- ing, and know more than books have taught them. The penetration of their understanding makes them draw consequences and form conjectures which lead them to discover hidden treasures. Reinesius was one of these, and made it his chief business to find out what others had not said." t The following are the heads of the fourth chap- ter of the first book, which may serve as a speci- men of the Adversaria: Ad Victoris Uticensis li- brum primum nota3 et emendationes. Limites. Col- limitia. Quantitas. H. Stephanas notatur. Ini- pendere. Tottim. Omnimode 1 . Dextrales. Asta. Francisii Balduini audacia castigatur. Tormenta antiqua. Liguamen Arxcapitis. Memoriae. Cru- iiari. Balduinus denuo aliquoties notatur. It is ktue that all this farrago arises out of one passage in Victor of Utica, and Barthius is far from being so desultory as Turnebus; but 3000 columns of such notes make but a dictionary without the help of the alphabet. Barthius tells us himself that he had finished two other volumes of Adversaria, be- sides correcting the first. See the passage in Bayle, note K. But he does not stand on very high ground s a critic, on account, of the rapidity with which ne wrote, and for the same reason has sometimes contradicted himself. Bayle. Baillet, n 528. Ni- ceron, vol. \ii., Morhof, lib. v., 1, 10. and several more, do honour to Other France and the Low Countries du- critics: ring this period. Spain, though En g lish - not strong in classical philology, produced Ramiresius de Prado, whose Ilevr^/coKrap- Xf, sive quinquaginta militum ductor, 1612, is but a book of criticism with a quaint ti- tle.* In Latin literature we can hardly say that England made herself more con- spicuous than in Greek. The notes of John Bond on Horace, published in 1606, are properly a work of the age of Eliza- beth : the author was long a schoolmaster in that reign. These notes are only little marginal scholia for the use of boys of no great attainments ; and in almost every instance, I believe, taken from Lambinus. This edition of Horace, though Antony Wood calls the author a most noted critic and grammarian, has only the merit of giving the observations concisely and per- spicuously. Thomas Farnaby is called by Baillet one of the best scholiasts, who aays hardly anything useless, and is very concise. f He has left notes on several of the Latin poets. It is possible that the notes are compiled, like those of Bond, from the foreign critics. Farnaby also was a schoolmaster, and schoolmasters do not write for the learned. He has, how- ever, been acknowledged on the Continent for a diligent and learned man. Wood says he was " the chief grammarian, rhet- orician, poet, Latinist, and Grecian of his time ; and his school was so much fre- quented, that more churchmen and state? men issued thence than from any school taught by one man in England. "J 16. But the greatest in this province of literature was Claude Saumaise, Salrnasiuar best known in the Latin form Sal- masius, whom the general suffrage of hia compeers placed at their head. An in- credible erudition, so that it was said, what Salmasius did not know was be- yond the bounds of knowledge ; a memo- ry such as none but those great scholars of former times seem to have possessed ; a life passed, naturally enough, in solita- ry labour, were sufficient to establish his fame among the learned. His intellectu- al strength has been more questioned ; he wrote, it has been alleged, on many sub jects he did not well understand, and some have reduced his merit to that of a gram- matical critic, without altogether rating this so highly as the world has done.$ * This has been ascribed by some to his master Sanctius, author of the Minerva, Ramirez himself having been thought unequal to such remarks a* we find in it. Baillet, n. 527. t N. 521. t Athens Oxonienses, vol. in. Baillet, n. 51 1 , is excessively severe on Salma FROM 1600 TO 1650. 19 Salmasius was very proud, self-confident, disdainful, and has, consequently, fallen into many errors, and even contradictions, through precipitancy. In his controversy with Milton, for which he was little fitted, he is rather feeble, and glad to escape from the severity of his antagonist by a defence of his own Latinity.* The works of Sal- masius are numerous, and on very miscel- laneous subjects ; among the philological, his Annotations on the Historian Augustac Scriptores seem to deserve mention. But the most remarkable, besides the Com- mentary on the Hellenistic Dialect, of which an account has been given, is the Plinianoe Exercitationes, published in 1629. These remarks, nominally on Pliny, are, in the first instance, on Solinus. Salma- sius tells us that he had spent much time on Pliny ; but, finding it beyond the pow- ers of one man to write a commentary on the whole Natural History of that author, he had chosen Solinus, who is a mere compiler from Pliny, and contains nothing from any other source. The Plinianse Ex- ercitationes is a mass of learning on the geography and natural history of Pliny in more than 900 pages, following the text of the Polyhistor of Solinus. f 17. It had been the desire of those who <5 00(1 aspired to reputation for taste and writers eloquence to write well in Latin, ei Latin, thejsole language, on this side of the Alps and Pyrenees, to which the ca- pacity of choice and polished expression was conceded. But when the French tongue was more cultivated and had a criticism of its own, this became the natu- ral instrument of polite writers in France, and the Latin fell to the merely learned, who neglected its beauties. In England it had never been much studied for the pur- sius; but the homage due to his learning by such an age as that in which he lived cannot be extenua- ted by the censure of a man like Baillet, of exten- sive but rather superficial attainments, and open to much prejudice. * Milton began the attack by objecting to the use of persona for an individual man ; but in this mista- ken criticism uttered himself the solecism vapulan- dum. See Johnson's Lives of the Poets. This ex- pression had previously been noticed by Vavasseur. t Nemo adeo ut propriam, suumque veluti reg- num, sibi criticen vindicatum ivit, ac Claudius Sal- masius, qui, queinadmodum nihil unquam scripsit, in quo non insignia multa artis criticae vestigia de- prehendas, ita imprimis, ut auctores cum notis et castigationibus absolutissimis editos taceamus, vas- to illo Plinianarum Exercitationum opere, quantum in eoeruditionis genere valeret demonstratumdedit. Morhof, lib. v., c. 1, 12. The Jesuits, Petavius and Harduin, who did not cordially praise any Prot- estant, charged this book with passing over real dif- ficulties, while a mass of heterogeneous matter was foisted in. Le Clerc (or La Croze) vindicates Sal- masius against some censures of Harduin in Bibl. Univ., vol. iv. poses of style ; and though neither in Ger- many nor the Low Countries it was very customary to employ the native language, the current Latin of literature was always careless and often barbarous. Even in It- aly the number of good writers in that language was now very scanty. Two de- serve to be commemorated with praise, both historians of the same period. The History and Annals of Grotius, in which he seems to have emulated, with more dis- cretion than some others, the nervous brevity of Tacitus, though sometimes not free from a certain hardness and want of flow, nor equal, consequently, in elegance to some productions of the sixteenth cen- tury, may be deemed a monument of vig- orous and impressive language. The De- cads of Famianus Strada, a Roman Jesuit, contain a history of the Flemish war, not written certainly in imitation of Tacitus, whom the author depreciated, but with more classical spirit than we usually find in that age. Scarcely any Latin, howev- er, of this period is equal to that of Bar- clay in the Argenis and Euphormio. His style, though rather diffuse, and more flor- id than that of the Augustan age, is per- haps better suited to his subjects, and re- minds us of Petronius Arbiter, who was probably his model. 18. Of the grammatical critics, whose attention was solely turned to the .. ,. T , . J . i Sciopprus. purity of Latin style, two are conspicuous, Caspar Scioppius and Gerard Vossius. The first, one of those restless and angry spirits whose hand is against all the world, lived a long life of contro- versy and satire. His productions, as enumerated by Niceron, mostly anony- mous, are about one hundred ; twenty-sev- en of which, according to another list, are grammatical.* The Protestants, whom he had abandoned, and the Jesuits, whom he would not join, are equally the objects of his anger. In literature he is celebra- ted for the bitterness of his attacks on Cicero, whom he spared as little as he did his own contemporaries. But Scioppius was an admirable master of the HJ S -p^o. Latin language. All that is re- sophtcai membered of his multifarious pub- Grammar - lications relates to this. We owe to him a much improved edition of the Minerva of Sanctius. His own Grammatica Phi- losophica (Milan, 1628), notwithstanding its title, has no pretensions to be called anything more than an ordinary Latin grammar. In this I observed nothing re- markable but that he denies the gerund and supine to be parts of the verb, consid * Niceron, vol. xxxv. Biogr. Univ. LITERATURE OF EUROPE ering the firsts passive participles, and the second as nouns substantive : a theo- ry which seems erroneous. 19. The Infamia Famiani of Scioppius His infamia was written against Famianus Famiani. Strada, whom he hated both as a Jesuit and as one celebrated for the beauty of his style. This book serves to show how far those who wrote with some eloquence, as Strada certainly did, fell short of classical purity. The faults pointed out are often very obvious to those who have used good dictionaries. Scioppius is, however, so fastidious as to reject words employed by Seneca, Tacitus, and even Phaedrus, as of the silver age ; and sometimes, probably, is wrong in his dogmatic assertion of a negative, that no good authority can be found. 20. But his most considerable work is Judicium one ca lled Judicium de Stylo His- de stylo torico, subjoined to the last, and Historico. published after his death in 1650. This treatise consists chiefly of attacks on the Latin style of Thuanus, Lipsius, Casaubon, and other recent authors ; but in the course of it we find the remarks of a subtle and severe observer on the an- cients themselves. The silver age he dates from the latter years of Augustus, placing even Ovid within it. The brazen he carries up to Vespasian. In the silver period he finds many single words as well as phrases not agreeable to the usage of more ancient authors. As to the mod- eras, the Transalpine writers, he says, speaking as an Italian, are always defi- cient in purity ; they mingle the phraseol- ogy of different ages as preposterously as if they were to write Greek in a confusion of dialects ; they affect obscurity, a bro- ken structure of periods, a studied use of equivocal terms. This is particularly per- ceived in the school of Lipsius, whose own faults, however, are redeemed by many beauties of style.* The Italians, on the * Transalpinis hominibus ex quotidiano Latini sermonis inter ipsos usu, multa sive barbaras, sive plebeiae ac deletions notae, sic adhaerescere solent, ut postea cum stylum arripuere, de Latinitale eorum dubitare nequaquam iis in mentem venial. Inde fil ul scripta eorum plerumque minus purilalis habeanl, quamvis gralia el venuslas in iis minime desideretur. Nam base natura duce melius fiebanl, quam arte aul studio. Accedil alia causa cur non aeque pura sil rnullorum Transalpinprum oratio, quod nullo stalls discrimine ac delectu in autorum lectione versantur, et ex omnium commixtione varium quoddam ac mulliforme pro suo quisque ingenio dicendi genus effingunt, contempto hoc Fabii monito : " Diu non nisi optimus quisque et qui credenlem sibi minime fallal, legendus est, sed diligenter ac pasne ad scri- bendi soliciludinem ; nee per paries modo scrutanda omnJa, sed perlectus liber utique ex integro resu- menctus." Itaque genus illud corruplae oralionis, seu , effugere nequeunt, quod *mus, Sadolet, and Longolius, we arrive at a third period, which we may call that of Paulus Manutius, the golden age of mod- rn Latinity. The diligence in lexicogra- )hy of Robert Stephens, of Nizolius, of Vlanutius himself, and the philological realises of their times, gave a much greater nicety of expression; while the snthusiasm with which some of the best * Tuum de grammatica a te accepi exactissimum n hoc genere opus, ac cui nullum priorum aut prisci svi aut nostri possit comparari. Apud Blount in '"ossio. Daunou says of the grammatical and rhe- orical writings of Vossius : Ces livres se recom- mandent, par 1'exactitude, par la methode, par une literature tres etendue. Gibert en convient, mais . trouve de la prolixite. D'autres pourraient n'y oirqu'une instruction serieuse, souvent aust&re, et resque toujours profitable. Biogr. Univ LITERATURE OF EUROPE writers emulated the ancients inspired them with a systematic eloquence and grace. But towards the end of the centu- ry, when Manutius, and Muretus, and Ma- phaeus, and others of that school had been removed by death, an age of worse taste, and perhaps of more negligence in gram- mar, cama on, yet one of great scholars, and of men powerful even in language ; the age of Lipsius, of Scaliger, of Grotius. This may be called the fourth period ; and in this, apparently, the purity of the lan- guage, as well as its beauty, rather de- clined. Finally, the publications of Sci- oppius and Vossius mark the beginning of another period, which we may consider as lasting to the present day. Grammatical criticism had nearly reached the point at which it now stands ; the additions, at least, which later philologers, Perizonius, Burman, Bentley, and many others have made, though by no means inconsiderable, seem hardly sufficient to constitute a dis- tinct period, even if we could refer them properly to any single epoch. And the praise of eloquent composition has been so little sought after the close of the years passed in education, or attained only in short and occasional writings, which have left no durable reputation behind, that we may consider the Latin language, for this purpose, to have silently expired in the regions of polite literature. SECTION II. Antiquities of Rome and Greece. Gruter. Meur- sius. Chronology. 25. THE antiquities of Greece and Rome, Gruter's coi- though they did not occupy so lection of in- great a relative space in the In- scriptions. erature O f t hi s period as of the sixteenth century, were, from the general increase of erudition, not less frequently the subject of books than before. This field, indeed, is so vast, that its harvest had in many parts been scarcely touched, and in others very imperfectly gathered by those we have already commemorated, the Sigonii, the Manutii, the Lipsii, and their fellow-labourers in ancient learning. The present century opened with a great work, the Corpus Inscriptionum by Gruter. A few endeavours had long before been made* to collect the ancient inscriptions, of which the countries once Roman, and especially Italy, were full. The best work hitherto was by Martin Smetius of Bru- ges, after whose death his collection of in- scriptions was published at Leyden in 1588, * See vol. i., p. 177. under the superintendence of Dousa and Lipsius. 26. Scaliger first excited his friend Gru- ter to undertake the task of giving Assisted by an enlarged edition of Smetius.* fcca'Jger. He made the index for this himself, devo- ting the labour of the entire morning for ten months (a summo mane ad tempus coense) to an occupation from which so little glory could accrue. "Who," says Burman, " would not admire the liberal erudition and unpretending modesty of the learned of that age, who, worn as they were by those long and weary labours of which they freely complain in their cor- respondence with each other, though they knew that such occupations as these could gain for them no better name than that of common clerks or mere drudges, yet hesi- tated not to abandon for the advantage of the public those pursuits which a higher fame might be expected to reward ? Who in these times would imitate the generosity of Scaliger, who, when he might have as- cribed to himself this addition to the work of Smetius, gave away his own right to Gruter, and declined to let his name be prefixed either to the index which he had wholly compiled, or to the many observa- tions by which he corrects and explains the inscriptions, and desired, in recom- pense for the industry of Gruter, that he alone should pass with posterity as the author of the work ?"f Gruter, it is ob- served by Le Clerc, has committed many faults : he often repeats the same inscrip- tions, and still more frequently has printed them from erroneous copies ; his quota- tions from authors, in whom inscriptions are found, sometimes want exactness ; finally, for which we could not well be answerable, a vast many have since been brought to light.! In consequence of the publication of Gruter's Inscriptions, the learned began, with incredible zeal, to ex- amine old marbles for inscriptions, and to insert them in any work that had reference to antiquity. Reinesius collected as many as make a respectable supplement. $ But a sort of sera in lapidary learning was made by Selden's description, in 1629, * Burman in Praefatione ad Gruteri Corpus In- script. Several of Scaligor's epistles prove this, especially the 405th, addressed to Grutor. t Id., p. 6. j Bibl. Choisie, vol. xiv., p. 51. Burman, vbi su- pra, gives a strange reason for reprinting Gruter's Inscriptions with all their blemishes, even the rep- etitions ; namely, that it was convenient to preserve the number of pages which had been so continually referred to in all learned works, the simple contri- vance of keeping the original numeration in the margin not having occurred to - l iim. Burman, vbi supra. FROM 1600 TO 1650. of the marbles brought by the Earl of Arundel from Greece, and which now be- long to the University of Oxford. These contain a chronology of the early times of Greece, on which great reliance has often been placed, though their antiquity is not accounted very high in comparison with those times. 27. The Jesuit Donati published, in 1633, Works on K ma vetus et nova, which is not Roman an- only much superior to anything tiquity. previously written on the antiqui- ties of the city, but is preferred by some competent judges to the later and more known work of Nardini. Both these will be found, with others of an earlier date, in the third and fourth volumes of Cravius. The tenth volume of the same collection contains a translation from the history of the Great Roads of the Roman Empire, published in French by Nicolas Bergier in 162-2 ; ill-arranged, it has been said, and diffuse, according to the custom of his age, but inferior, Graevius declares, in variety of learning to no one work that he has in- serted in his numerous volumes. Guther, whose treatise on the pontifical law of Rome appears in the fifth volume, was, says the editor, " a man of various and extended reading, who had made extracts from every class of writers, but had not always digested his learning or weighed what he wrote. Hence much has been found open to criticism in his writings, and there remains a sufficient harvest of the same kind for any one who should care to undertake it." The best work on Roman dress is by Octavius Ferrarius, published partly in 1642, partly in 1654. This has been called superficial by Span- heim ; but Graevius, and several other men of learning, bestow more praise.* The Isiac tablet, covered with emblems of Egyptian antiquity, was illustrated by Pignoria, in a work bearing different ti- tles in the successive editions from 1605; and his explanations are still considered probable. Pignoria's other writings were also in high esteem with the antiquaries. f It would be tedious to enumerate the less important productions of this kind. A minute and scrupulous criticism, it has been said, distinguished the antiquaries of the seventeenth century. Without, per- haps, the comprehensive views of Sigonius and Panvinius, they were more severely exact. Hence forgery and falsehood stood a much worse chance of success than before. Anmus of Viterbo had deceived half the scholars of the preceding age. * Niceron, v., 80. Tiraboschi, xi. , 300. t Niceron, vol. xxi. Biogr. Univ. But when Inghirami, in 1637, published his Etruscarum Antiquitatum Fragmenta, monuments of Etruscan antiquity, which he pretended to have discovered at Volter- ra, the imposture was speedily detected.* 28. The Germania Antiqua of Cluverius was published in 1616, and his Geography Italia Antiqua in 1624. These of Cluverius. form a sort of epoch in ancient geography. The latter, especially, has ever since been the great repertory of classical illustra- tion on this subject. Cluverius. however, though a man of acknowledged ability and erudition, has been thought too bold an in- novator in his Germany, and to have laid down much on his own conjecture.! 29. Meursius, a native of Holland, began when very young, soon after the Meursius commencement of the century, those indefatigable labours on Grecian an- tiquity, by which he became to Athens and all Hellas what Sigonius had been to Rome and Italy. Niceron has given a list of his publications, sixty-seven in number, including some editions of ancient writers, but for the most part confined to illustrations of Greek usages ; some also treat of Roman. The Graecia feriata, on festivals and games ; the Orchestra, on dancing ; the Eleusinia, on that deeply in- teresting, and, in his time, almost untouch- ed subject, the ancient mysteries, are col- lected in the works of this very learned person, or scattered through the Thesaurus Antiquitatum Graecarum of Gronovius. " Meursius," says his editor, " was the true and legitimate mystagogue to the sanctu- aries of Greece." But his peculiar atten- tion was justly shown to " the eye of Greece," Athens. Nothing that bore on her history, her laws and government, her manners and literature, was left by him. The various titles of his works seem al- most to exhaust Athenian antiquity : De Populis Atticos Athenae Atticae Cecro- pia Regnum Atticum Archontes Athe- nienses Pisistratus Fortuna Attica Atticarum Lectionum Libri IV. Piraeeus Themis Attica Solon Areopagus Panathenaea Eleusinia Theseus Ms- chylus Sophocles et Euripides. It is manifest that all later learning must have been built upon his foundations. No one was equal to Meursius in this province ; but the second place is perhaps due to Uhbo Emmius, professor of Greek ubbo at Groningen, for his Vetus Grsecia Emmius. Illustrata, 1626. The facilities of elucida- ting the topography of that country were by no means such as Cluverius had found * Salfi (Continuation de Gingudne), xi , 358. t Blount. Niceron, vol. xxi. Biogr. Univ. LITERATURE OF EUROPE for Italy ; and, in fact, little was done in re- spect to local investigation in order to es- tablish a good ancient geography tiHrecent times. Samuel Petit, a man placed by some in the very first list of the learned, published in 1635 a commentary on the Athenian laws, which is still the chief au- thority on that subject. * 30. In an age so peculiarly learned as this part of the seventeenth' century, it will be readily concluded that many books must have a relation to the extensive sub- ject of this section ; though the stream of erudition had taken rather a different course, and watered the provinces of ec- clesiastical and mediaeval more than those of heathen antiquity. But we can only select one or two which treat of chronol- ogy, and that chiefly because we have al- ready given a place to the work of Scali- ger. 31. Lydiat was the first who, in a small Chronology treatise on the various calendars, of Lydiat. 1605, presumed in several re- caivisius. spects to Differ from that of the dictator of literature. He is, in conse- quence, reviled in Scaliger's Epistles as the most stupid and ignorant of the human race, a portentous birth of England, or at best an ass and a beetle, whom it is below the dignity of the author to answer.* Lydiat, however, was esteemed a man of deep learning, and did not flinch from the contest. His Emendatio Temporum, pub- lished in 1609, is a more general censure of the Scaligerian chronology, but it is rather a short work for the extent of the subject. A German, Seth Calvisius, on the other hand, is extolled to the skies by Scaliger for a chronology founded on his own principles. These are applied in it to the whole series of history, and thus Cal- yisius may be said to have made an epoch in historical literature. He made more use of eclipses than any preceding writer ; and his dates are reckoned as accurate in modern as in ancient history, f 32. Scaliger, nearly twenty years after _ , his death, was assailed by an ad- Petavius. ', , ,, J versary whom he could not have thought it unworthy of his name to repel. Petau, or Petavius, a Jesuit of uncommon * Ante aliquot dies tibi scripsi, ut scirem ex te quis sit Thomas Lydiat iste, quo monstro nullum portentosius in vestra Anglia natum puto ; tanta est inscitia horninis et confidentia. Ne semel quidem illi verum dicere accidit. And again : Non est sim- ilis morioin orbe terrarum. Faucis asinitatem ejus perstringam ut lector rideat. Nam in tarn prodigiose imperitum scarabaeum scribere, neque nostrze digni- tatis est, neque otii. Scalig., Epist., 291. Usher, nevertheless, if we may trust Wood, thought Scali- ger worsted by Lydiat. At h. Oxou., iii., 187. t Blount. Biogr. Univ. learning, devoted the whole of the first of two large volumes, entitled Doctrina Tem- porum. 1627, to a censure of the famous work De Emendatione Temporum. This volume is divided into eight books; the first on the popular year of the Greeks; the second on the lunar ; the third on the -(Egyptian, Persian, and Armenian; the fourth on the solar year ; the fifth treats of the correction of the paschal cycle and the calendar ; the sixth discusses the prin- ciples of the lunar and solar cycles ; the seventh is entitled an introduction to com- putations of various kinds, among which he reckons the Julian period ; the eighth is on the true motions of the sun and moon, and on their eclipses. In almost every chapter of the first five books, Sca- liger is censured, refuted, reviled. It was a retribution upon his own arrogance ; but published thus after his death, with no justice done to his great learning and abil- ity, and scarcely the common terms of re- spect towards a mighty name, it is impos- sible not to discern in Petavius both an envious mind, and a partial desire to injure the fame of a distinguished Protestant. His virulence, indeed, against Scaliger be- comes almost ridiculous. At the begin- ning of each of the first five books, he lays it down as a theorem to be demonstrated, that Scaliger is always wrong on the par- ticular subjects to which it relates ; and at the close of each, he repeats the same in geometrical form as having been proved. He does not even give him credit for the invention of the Julian period, though he adopts it himself with much praise, posi- tively asserting that it is borrowed from the Byzantine Greeks.* The second vol- ume is in five books, and is dedicated to the historical part of chronology, and the application of the principles laid down be- fore. A third volume, in 1630, relating to the same subjects, though bearing a differ- ent title, is generally considered as part of the work. Petavius, in 1633, published an abridgment of his chronological sys- tem, entitled Rationarium Temporum, to which he subjoined a table of events down to his own time, which in the larger work had only been carried to the fall of the empire. This abridgment is better known and more generally useful than the for- mer. 33. The merits of Petavius as a chro- nologer have been differently character of appreciated. Many, of whom this work - Huet is one, from religious prejudices re- joiced in what they hoped to be a discom- fiture of Scaliger, whose arrogance had * Lib. vii., c. 7. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 25 also made enemies of a large part of the literary world. Even Vossius, after prais- ing Petavius, declares that he is unwilling to decide between men who have done for chronology more than any others.* But he has not always been so favourably dealt with. Le Clerc observes, that as Scaliger is not very perspicuous, and Petavius has explained the former's opinions before he proceeds to refute them, those who com- pare the two will have this advantage, that they will understand Scaliger better than before. f This is not very complimentary to his opponent. A modern writer of re- spectable authority gives us no reason to consider him victorious. "Though the great work of Petavius on chronology," says M. St. Martin, " is certainly a very estimable production, it is not less certain that he has in no degree contributed to en- large the boundaries of the science. The author shows too much anxiety to refute Scaliger, whether right or wrong ; his sole aim is to destroy the edifice, perhaps too boldly elevated by his adversary. It is not unjust to say that Petavius has literal- ly done nothing for positive chronology ; he has not even determined with accura- cy what is most incontestable in this sci- ence. Many of the dates which he con- siders as well established are still subject to great doubt, and might be settled in a very different manner. His work is clear and methodical ; and, as it embraces the whole of chronology, it might have be- come of great authority : but those very qualities have rendered it injurious to the science. He came to arrest the flight which, through the genius of Scaliger, it was ready to take, nor has it made the least progress ever since ; it has produced nothing but conjectures, more or less showy, but with nothing solid and undeni- able for their basis. "J CHAPTER II. HISTORY OF THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1600 TO 1650. Claim of Popes to Temporal Power. Father Paul Sarpi. Gradual Decline of Papal Power. Un- popularity of Jesuits. Controversy of Catholics and Protestants. Deference of some of the latter to Antiquity. Wavering in Casaubon. Still more in Grotius. Calixtus. An opposite School of Theologians. Daille. Chillingworth. Hales. Rise of the Arminian Controversy. Episcopius. Socinians. Question as to Rights of Magistrates in Religion. Writings of Grotius on this Subject. Question of Religious Tolera- tion. Taylor's Liberty of Prophesying. Theo- logical Critics and Commentators. Sermons of Donne and Taylor. Deistical Writers. Eng- lish Translation of the Bible. 1. THE claim of the Roman See to de- Temporal pose sovereigns was like the re- supremacy tractile claws of some animals, which woud be liable to injury were they not usually sheathed. If the state of religion in England and France towards the latter part of the sixteenth century required the assertion of these * Vossius, apud Niceron, xxxvii., 111. Dionysius Petavius permulta post Scaligerum optime observa- vit. Sed nolim judicium interponere inter eos, quo- rum uterque praeclare adeo de chronologia mentus est, ut nullis plus haec scientia debeat. . . . Qui sine affectu ac partium studio conferre volet quae de temporibus scripsere, conspiciet esse ubi Scaligero major laus debeatur, comperiet quoque ubi longe Petavio malit assentiri ; erit etiam ubi ampliandum videatur; imo ubi nee facile veritas aquoquam pos- eit indagari. The chronology of Petavius was an- imadverted upon by Salmasius with much rude- ness, and by several other contemporaries engaged in the same controversy. If we were to believe Ba- VOL. II. D pretended rights, it was not the policy of a court, guided as often by prudence as by zeal or pride, to keep them for ever before the eyes of the world. Clement VIII. wanted not these latter qualities, but they were restrained by the former; and the circumstances in which the new century opened did not demand any open collision with the civil power. Henry IV. had been received back into the bosom of the church ; he was now rather the ally, the favoured child of Rome, than the object of proscription. Elizabeth again was out of the reach of any enemy but death, and much was hoped from the hereditary dis- position of her successor. The temporal supremacy would therefore have been left for obscure and unauthorized writers to vindicate, if an unforeseen circumstance had not called out again its most celebra- illet, Petavius was not only the most learned of the order of Jesuits, but surpassed Salmasius himself de plusieurs couddes. Jugemens des Sc.avans, n. 513. But, to judge between giants, we should be a little taller ourselves than most are. Baillet, indeed, quotes Henry Valois for this preference of Petavius to any other of his age, which, in other words, is much the same as to call him the most learned man that ever lived ; and Valois was a very competent judge. The words, however, are found in a funer- al panegyric. t Bibl. Choisie, ii., 186. A short abstract of the Petavian scheme of chronology will be found in this volume of Le Clerc. t Biogr. Univ., art. Petavius. 26 LITERATURE OF EUROPE ted. champions. After the detection of the gunpowder conspiracy, an oath of al- legiance was imposed in England, contain- ing a renunciation, in strong terms, of the tenet that princes excommunicated by the pope might be deposed or murdered by their subjects. None of the English Cath- olics refused allegiance to James ; and most of them probably would have felt little scruple at taking the entire oath, which their arch-priest, Blackwell, had ap- proved. But the See of Rome interfered to censure those who took the oath ; and a controversy singularly began with James himself in his " Apology for the Oath of Al- legiance." Bellarmin answered, in 1610, under the name of Matthew Tortus ; and the duty of defending the royal author was devolved on one of our most learned divines, Lancelot Andrews, who gave to his reply the quaint title Tortura Torti.* But this favourable tenet of the Vatican was as ill fitted to please the Gallican as the English, Church. Barclay, a lawyer of Scottish family, had long defended the rights of the crown of France against all opponents. His posthumous treatise on the temporal power of the pope with re- spect to sovereign princes was published at London in 1609. Bellarmin answered it next year in the ultra-montane spirit which he had always breathed ; the Parliament of Paris forbade the circulation of his re- piy-t 2. Paul V. was a pope imbued with the Contest arrogant spirit of his predeces- witu Venice. sors> p au i i\r. and Pius V. ; no one was more prompt to exercise the des- potism which the Jesuits were ready to maintain. After some minor disputes with the Italian states, he came, in 1605, to his * Biogr. Britann., art. Andrews. Collier's Eccle- siastical History. Butler's English Catholics, vol. i. Matthew Tortus was the almoner of Bellarmin, whose name he thought fit to assume as a very slight disguise. t II pretesto, says Father Paul of Bellannin's book, e di scrivere contra Barclajo ; ma il vero fine si vede esser per ridurre il papa at colmo dellomnip- otente. In questo libro non si tratta altro, che il euddetto argumento, e piii di venti cinque volte e replicato, che quando il papa gindica un principe in- degno per sua colpa d'aver governo overo inetto, 6 pur conosce, che per il bene della chiesa sia cosa utile, lo puo privare. Dice piu volte, che quando il papa comanda, che non sia ubbidito ad un principe private da lui, non si puo dire, che comandi che prin- cipe non sia ubbidito, rna che privata persona, per- che il principe private dal papa non e piii principe. E passa tanto inanzi, che viene a dire, il papa pup disponere secondo che giudica ispediente de' tuttii beni di qual sivoglia Christiano, ma tutto sarebbe niente, se solo dicesse che tale & la sua opinione; dice, ch' e un articolo della fede Catholica, ch' e eret- ico, chi non sente cosi, e questo con tanta petulan- tia, che non vi si puo aggiungere. Lettere di Sar- pi, 50. famous conflict with the republic of Ven- ice, on the very important question of the immunity of ecclesiastics from the civil tribunals. Though he did not absolve the subjects of Venice from their allegiance, he put the state under an interdict, for- bidding the celebration of divine offices throughout its territory. The Venetian clergy, except the Jesuits and some other regulars, obeyed the senate rather than the pope. The whole is matter of known his- tory. In the termination of this dispute, it has been doubted which party obtained the victory ; but in the ultimate result and effect upon mankind, \ve cannot, it seems, well doubt that the See of Rome was the loser.* Nothing was more worthy of re- mark, especially in literary history, than the appearance of one great man, Father Fra Paolo Sarpi, the first who, in Paul Sar P'- modern times and in a Catholic country, shook the fabric not only of papal despo- tism, but of ecclesiastical independence and power. For it is to be observed that in the Venetian business, the pope was contending for what were called the rights of the church, not for his own supremacy over it. Sarpi, was a man of extraordina- ry genius, learning, and judgment : his physical and anatomical knowledge was such as to have caused at least several great discoveries to be assigned to him;t his reasoning was concise and cogent ; his style perspicuous and animated. A trea- tise " Delle Materie Beneficiarie," in other words, on the rights, revenues, and privi- leges, in secular matters, of the ecclesias- tical order, is a model in its way. The history is so short and yet so sufficient, the sequence so natural and clear, the proofs so judiciously introduced, that it can never be read without delight and ad- miration of the author's skill. And this is more striking to those who have toiled at the verbose books of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, where tedious quo- tations, accumulated, not selected, disguise the argument they are meant to confirm. Except the first book of Machiavel's His- tory of Florence, I do not remember any earlier summary of facts so lucid and per- tinent to the object. That object was, * Ranke is the best authority on this dispute, as he is on all other matters relating to the papacy in this age, vol. ii., p. 324. x f He was supposed to have discovered the valves of the veins, the circulation of the blood, the expan sion and contraction of the pupil, the variation of the compass. A quo, says Baptista Porta of Sarpi, aliqua didicisse non solum fateri non erubescimus, sed g'oriamur, cum eo doctiorem, subtiliorem, quot- quot adhue videre contigerit, neminem cognovimus ad encyclopaediam. Magia Naturalis, lib. vii., aoud Rankc. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 27 with Father Paul, neither more nor less than to represent the wealth and power of the church as ill-gotten and excessive. The Treatise on Benefices led the way, or, rather, was the seed thrown into the ground that ultimately produced the many efforts both of the press and of public authority to break down ecclesiastical privileges.* 3. The other works of Sarpi are numer- History or ous ' uut none require our present the council attention except the most cele- of Trent, brated, his History of the Coun- cil of Trent. The manuscript of this having been brought to London by Antonio de Dominis, was there published in 1619, under the name of Pietro Soave Polano, the anagram of Paolo Sarpi Veneto. It was quickly translated into several lan- guages, and became the text-book of Prot- estantism on the subject. Many incor- rectnesses have been pointed out by Pal- lavicini, who undertook the same task on the side of Rome ; but the general credi- bility of Father Paul's history has rather gained by the ordeal of hostile criticism. Dupin observes that the long list of errors imputed by Pallavicini, which are chiefly in dates and such trifling matters, make little or no difference as to the substance of Sarpi's history ; but that its author is more blamcable for a malicious disposition to impute political motives to the members of the council, and idle reasonings which they did not employ.! Ranke, who has given this a more minute scrutiny than Dupin could have done, comes nearly to the same result. Sarpi is not a fair, but he is, for those times, a tolerably exact historian. His work exhibits the general excellences of his manner ; freedom from redundancy ; a clear, full, agreeable style ; a choice of what is most pertinent and interesting in his materials. Much has been disputed about the religious tenets of Father Paul ; it appears to me quite out of doubt, both by the tenour of his histo- ry, and still more unequivocally, if possi- ble, by some of his letters, that he was entirely hostile to the Church in the usu- al sense, as well as to the court of Rome, sympathizing in affection, and concurring generally in opinion, with the reformed denomination.^ But as he continued in * A long analysis of the Treatise on Benefices will be found in Dupin, who does not blame it very much. It is worth reading through, and has been commended by many good judges of history. t Hist. Eccles., Cent. 17. $ The proofs of this it would be endless to ad- duce from the history : they strike the eye in every page, though it cannot be expected that he should declare his way of thinking in express terms. Even in his letters he does not this. They were printed, with the date, at least, of Verona, in 1673. Sully's the exercise of his functions as a Servite monk, and has always passed at Venice more for a saint than a heretic, some of the Gallican writers have not scrupled to make use of his authority, and to exten- uate his heterodoxy. There can be no question but that he inflicted a severe wound on the spiritual power. 4. That power, predominant as it seem- ed in the beginning of the sev- Gaiiicaniib- enteenth century, met with ad- enies. RI- versaries besides Sarpi. The cher- French nation, and especially the Parlia- ment of Paris, had always vaunted what were called the liberties of the Gallican Church ; liberties, however, for which nei- ther the church itself, nor the king, the two parties interested, were prone to display much regard. A certain canonist, Richer, published in 1611 a book on ecclesiastical and political power ; in which he asserted the government of the church to be a mon- archy tempered with aristocracy ; that is, that the authority of the pope was limited in some respects by the rights of the bishops. Though this has since become a fundamental principle among the Cisal- pine Catholics, it did not suit the high no- tions of that age ; and the bishops were content to sacrifice their rights by joining in the clamour of the papal party. A fall he laments, " having become partial to him on account of his firmness in religion." Lett. 58. Of the republic of the United Provinces he says : La nascenza di quale si come Dio ha favorito con grazie inestimabili, cosi pare che la malizia del dia- volo oppugni con tutte le arti. Lett. 23. After giving an account of one Marsilio, who seems to have been a Protestant, he adds : Credo se non fosse per ragion di stato, si trovarebbono diversi, che sal- tarebbono da questo fosso di Roma nella cirna dell riforma; ma chi terne una cosa, chi un' altra. Dio pero par che goda la piQ minima parte dei pensieri urnani. So ch' ella mi intende senza passar piO oltre. Lett. 81, Feb., 1612. Sarpi speaks with gfeat contempt of James I., who was occupied like a pedant about Vorstius and such matters. Se il re d' Inghilterra non fosse dottore, si potrebbe spe- rare qnalche bene, e sarebbe un gran principio, per- ch& Spagna non si puo vincere, se non levato il pre- testo della religione, ne questo si levera. se non in- troducendo i reformati nell' Italia. E si il rfe sap- ease fare, sarebbe facile e in Torino, e qui. Lett. 88. He wrote, however, a remarkable letter to Casaubon, much about this time, hinting at his wish to find an asylum in England, and using rather too different language about the king: In eo, rarurn, cumulates virtutes principis ac viri. Regum idea est, ad quam forte ante actis sseculis nemo formatus fuit. Si ego ejus protectione dignus essem, nihil mihi deesse putarem ad mortalis vitas felicitatem. Tu, vir prEestantissime, nihil te dignius eificere po- tes, quam tanto principimea studiacommendare. Casaubon, Epist. 811. Forwica in another edition is read tua; but the former seems preferable. Ca- saubon replied, that the king wished Paul to be a light to his own country; but, if anything should happen, he had written to his ambassador, ut nulla in re tibi desit. 28 LITERATURE OF EUROPE synod assembled by Cardinal du Perron, archbishop of Sens, condemned the book of Richer, who was harassed for the rest of his life by the persecution of those he had sought to defend against a servitude which they seemed to covet. His fame has risen in later times. Dupin concludes a careful analysis of Richer's treatise with a noble penegyric on his character and style of writing.* 5. The strength of the ultra-montane Perron P art y m tne Gallican Church was Perron, a man of great natural ca- pacity, a prodigious memory, a vast knowl- edge of ecclesiastical and profane antiqui- ty, a sharp wit, a pure and eloquent style, and such readiness in dispute that few cared to engage him.f If he did not al- ways reason justly or upon consistent principles, these are rather failings in the" eyes of lovers of truth than of those, and they are the many, who sympathize with the dexterity and readiness of a partisan. He had been educated as a Protestant, but, like half the learned of that religion, went over from some motive or other to the victorious side. In the conference at Fontainebleau with Du Plessis Mornay, it has been mentioned already that he had a confessed advantage ; but victory in de- bate follows the combatant rather than the cause. The supporters of Gallican liber- ties were discouraged during the life of this cardinal. He did not explicitly set himself against them, or deny, perhaps, the principles of the Council of Con- stance ; but, by preventing any assertion of them, he prepared the way, as it was hoped at Rome, for a gradual recognition of the ^hole system of Bellarmin. Per- ron, however, was neither a Jesuit, nor very favourable to that order. Even so late as 1638, a collection of tracts by the learned brothers Du Puy, on the liberties * Hist. Eccles., Cent. 17, 1. ii., c. 7. Niceron, vol. vii. The Biographic Universelle talks of the re- publican principles of Richer ; it must be in an ec- clesiastical sense, for nothing in the book, I think, relates to civil politics. Father Paul thought Ri- cher's scheme might lead to something better, but did not highly esteem it. Quella mistura del gover- no ecclesiastico dimonarchia e aristocrazia mi pare una composizione di oglio e acqua, che non possono mai mischiarsi insieme. Lettere di Sarpi, 109. Richer entirely denies the infallibility of the pope in matters of faith, and says there is no authority adduced for it but that of the popes themselves. His work is written on the principles of the Janseni- zing Gallicans of the 18th century, and probably goes farther than Bossuet, or any who wished to keep on good terms with Rome would have open- ly approved. It is prolix, extending to two volumes 4to. Some account of Richer will be found in His- toire de la Mere et du Fils, ascribed to Mezeray or Richelieu, t Dupin. of the Church, was suppressed at the in- stance of the nuncio, on the pretext that it had been published without permission. It was reprinted some years afterward^ when the power of Rome had begun to decline.* 6. Notwithstanding the tone still held by the court of Rome and its Decline of pa- numerous partisans, when pro- P al power, voked by any demonstration of resistance, they generally avoided aggressive proceed- ings, and kept in reserve the tenets which could not be pleasing to any civil govern- ment. We should doubtless find many assertions of the temporal authority of the pope by searching into obscure theol- ogy during this period ; but after Bellar- min and Perron were withdrawn from the stage, no prominent champions of that cause stood forth; and it was one of which great talents and high station alone could overcome the intrinsic unpopularity. Slowly and silently, the power of Rome had much receded before the middle of the seventeenth century. Paul V. was the last of the imperious pontiffs who ex- acted obedience as sovereigns of Chris- tendom. His successors have had re- course to gentler measures, to a paternal rather than regal authority ; they have ap- pealed to the moral sense, but have rarely or never alarmed the fears of their church. The long pontificate of Urban VIII. was a period of transition from strength to weak- ness. In his first years, this pope was not inactively occupied in the great cause of subduing the Protestant heresy. It has been lately brought to light, that, soon after the accession of Charles I., he had formed a scheme, in conjunction with France and Spain, for conquering and partitioning the British islands : Ireland was to be annex- ed to the ecclesiastical state, and governed by a viceroy of the Holy See.f But he afterward gave up these visionary projects, and limited his ambition to more practica- ble views of aggrandizement in Italy. It is certain that the temporal principality of the popes has often been a useful diver- sion for the rest of Europe : the duchy of Urbino was less in our notions of impor- tance than Germany or Britain ; but it was quite as capable of engrossing the thoughts and passions of a pope. * Dupin, l.iii., c. 1. Grot ,Epist, 1105. Liberde libertatibus ecclesiae Gallicanae ex actis desumptus publicis, quo regis regnique jura contra molitiones pontificias defenduntur ipsius regis jussu vendi eat prohibitus. See also Epist. 519. t Ranke, ii., 518. It is not at all probable that France and Spain would have seriously coalesced for any object of this kind : the spoil could not have been safely divided. But the scheme serves to show the ambition, at that time, of the Roman See. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 29 7. The subsidence of Catholic zeal be- linpopuiarity fore the middle of this age de- oftheJesuits. serves especially to be noted at a time when, in various directions, that church is beginning to exalt her voice, if not to rear her head, and we are ostenta- tiously reminded of the sudden revival of her influence in the sixteenth century. It did undoubtedly then revive ; but it is equal- ly manifest that it receded once more. Among the leading causes of this decline in the influence, not only of what are called ultra-montane principles, but of the zeal and faith that had attended them, a change as visible, and almost as rapid as the reaction in favour of them which we have pointed out in the latter part of the sixteenth century, we must reckon the in- creasing prejudices against the Jesuit or- der. Their zeal, union, indefatigable de- votion to the cause, had made them the most useful of allies, the most formidable of enemies ; but in these very qualities were involved the seeds of public hatred and ultimate ruin. Obnoxious to Protest- ant states for their intrigues ; to the law- yers, especially in France, for their bold theories of political power and encroach- ing spirit ; to the Dominicans for the favour they had won, they had become, long be- fore the close of this period, rather equiv- ocal and dangerous supporters of the See of Rome.* Their fate, in countries where the temper of their order had displayed itself with less restraint, might have led reflecting men to anticipate the consequen- ces of urging too far the patience of man- kind by the ambition of an insulated or- der of priests. In the first part of this century the Jesuits possessed an exten- sive influence in Japan, and had reunited the kingdom of Abyssinia to the Roman Church. In the course of a few years more they were driven out from both; their intriguing ambition had excited an implacable animosity against the church to which they belonged. 8. Cardinal Richelieu, though himself Richelieu's a theological writer, took great careofGaiii- care to maintain the liberties of can liberties. tne French crown and church. No extravagance of Hildebrandic princi- ples would find countenance under his ad- ministration. Their partisans endeavour- ed sometimes to murmur against his ec- clesiastical measures ; it was darkly ru- moured that he had a scheme of separ- ating the Catholic Church of France, something in the manner of Henry VIII., from the supremacy of Rome, though not * Clement VIII. was tired of the Jesuits, as we are told by Perron, who did not much love them, p. 286, 288. from her creed ; and one Hersent publish- ed, under the name of Optatus Callus, a book so rapidly suppressed as to be of the greatest rarity, the aim of which was to excite the public apprehension of this schism.* It was in defence of the Galli- can liberties, so far as it was yet prudent to assert them, that De Marca was em ployed to write a treatise, De Concordan tia Sacerdotii et Imperii. This book was censured at Rome ; yet it does not by any means come up to the language afterward usual in the Gallican Church ; it belongs to its own age, the transitional period in which Rome had just ceased to act, but not to speak as a mistress. De Marca was obliged to make some concessions before he could obtain the bulls for a bish- opric. He rose, however, afterward to the see of Paris. The first part of his work appeared in 1641, the second after the death of the author. 9. In this most learned period, accord- ing to the sense in which the _ .-, . T, Controversy word was then taken, that Eu- O f Catholics rope has ever seen, it was, of and Protest- course, to be expected that the ants ' studious ecclesiastics of both Romish and Protestant denomination would pour forth a prodigal erudition in their great contro- versy. It had always been the aim of the former to give an historical character to theological inquiry ; it was their business to ascertain the faith of the Catholic Church as a matter of fact, the single principle of its infallibility being assumed as the basis of all investigation. But their opponents, though less concerned in the issue of such questions, frequently thought themselves competent to dispute the field ; and, conversant as they were with ecclesi- astical antiquity, found in its interminable records sufficient weapons to protract the war, though not to subdue the foe. Hence, partly in the last years of the sixteenth century, but incomparably more in the present, we find an essential change in the character of theological contro- i ncrcase d >. versy. It became less reason- spect for the ing, less scriptural, less general, falhers - and less popular, but far more patristic, that is, appealing to the testimonies of the fathers, and altogether more historical than before. Several consequences of materi- al influence on religious opinion sprang naturally from this method of conducting the defence of Protestantism. One was, e Biogr. Univ. Grot., Epist. 982, 1354. By some other letters of Grotius, it appears that Richelieu tampered witn those schemes of reconciling the different religions which were then afloat, and all which went on setting the pope nearly aside. Ru- arus intimates the same. Epist. Ruar., p. 401. LITERATURE OF EUROPE that it contracted very greatly the circle of those who, upon any reasonable inter- pretation of the original principle of per- sonal judgment, could exercise it for them- selves ; it became the privilege of the deeply learned alone. Another, that, from the real obscurity and incoherence of ec- clesiastical authorities, those who had penetrated farthest into that province of learning were least able to reconcile them ; and, however they might disguise it from the world, while the pen was in their hands, were themselves necessarily left, upon many points, in an embarrassing state of doubt and confusion. A third ef- fect was, that upon these controversies of Catholic tradition, the Church of Rome had very often the best of the argument ; and this was occasionally displayed in those wrestling matches between religious disputants, which were held, publicly or privately, either with the vain hope of coming to an agreement, or to settle the faith of the hearers. And from the two last of these causes it arose that many Protestants went over to the Church of Rome, and that a new theological system was contrived to combine what had been deemed the incompatible tenets of those who had burst from each other with such violence in the preceding century. 10. This retrocession, as it appeared, Kspeciaiiy anc ^ as i n spirit it was, towards in England, the system abandoned in the first Laud. impetuosity of the Reformation, began in England about the conclusion of the sixteenth century. It was evidently connected with the high notions of eccle- siastical power, of an episcopacy by un- broken transmission from the apostles, of a pompous ritual, which the rulers of the Anglican Church took up at that time in opposition to the Puritans. It rapidly gained ground in the reign of James, and still more of his son. Andrews, a man far more learned in patristic theology than any of the Elizabethan bishops, or per- haps than any of his English contempora- ries except Usher, was, if not the found- er, the chief leader of this school. Laud became afterward, from his political im- portance, its more conspicuous head ; and from him it is sometimes styled. In his conference with the Jesuit Fisher, first published in 1624, and afterward, with many additions, in 1639, we find an at- tempt, not feeble, and, we may believe, not feigned, to vindicate the Anglican Protest- antism, such as he meant it to be, against the Church of Rome, but with much def- erence to the name of Catholic, and the authority of the ancient fathers.* It is * Ce qu'il y a de particular dans cette confe- unnecessary to observe, that this was the prevalent language of the English Church in that period of forty years which was terminated by the civil war ; and that it was accompanied by a marked enhance- ment of religious ceremonies, as well as by a considerable approximation to sever- al doctrines and usages of the Romanists. 11. The progress of the latter church for the first thirty years of the Derectionsto present century was as striking the catholic and uninterrupted as it had been Clmrcl1 - in the final period of the sixteenth. Vic- tory crowned its banners on every side. The signal defeats of the Elector Palatine and the King of Denmark, the reduction of Rochelle, displayed an evident superi- ority in the ultimate argument to which the Protestants had been driven, and which silences every other ; while a rigid system of exclusion from court favour and of civil discouragement, or even of ban- ishment, and suppression of public wor- ship, as in the Austrian dominions, brought round the wavering and flexible to acqui- esce with apparent willingness in a despo- tism they could neither resist nor escape. The nobility, both in France and Germany, who in the last age had been the first to embrace a new faith, became afterward the first to desert it. Many also of the learned and able Protestants gave evidence of the jeopardy of that cause by their con- version. It is not, however, just to infer that they were merely influenced by this apprehension. Two other causes mainly operated ; one, to which we have above alluded, the authority given to the tradi- tions of the Church, recorded by the wri- ters called fathers, and with which it was found very difficult to reconcile all the Protestant creed ; another, the intolerance of the reformed churches, both Lutheran and Calvinistic, which gave as little lati- tude as that which they had quitted. 12. The defectimis, from whatever cause, are numerous in the sev- wavering of enteenth century. But two, Casaubon, more 'eminent than any who actually re- rence, c'est qu'on y cite beaucoup plus les pe.res de 1'eglise, que n'ont accontume de faire les Prot- estans de dega la mer. Comme 1'eglise Anglicane a une veneration toute particuli&re pour I'antiquit^, c'est par la que les Catholiques Remains 1'attaquent ordinairement. Bibl. Univ., i., 336. Laud, as well as Andrews, maintained " that the true and real body of Christ is in that blessed sacrament." Con- ference with Fisher, p. 299 (edit. 1639). And after- ward, " for the Church of England, nothing is more plain than that it believes and teaches the true and real presence of Christ in the Eucharist." Nothing is more plain than the contrary, as Hall, who be longed to a different school of theology, though the friend of Laud, has in equivalent words observed. Hall's works (Pratt's edition), vol. ix., p. 37-L FROM 1600 TO 1650. 31 nounced the Protestant religion, must be owned to have given evident signs of wavering, Casaubon and Grotius. The proofs of this are not founded merely on anecdotes which might be disputed, but on their own language.* Casaubon was staggered by the study of the fathers, in which he discovered many things, espe- cially as to the Eucharist, which he could not in any manner reconcile with the ten- ets of the French Huguenots. f Perron * In his correspondence with Scaliger, no indi- cations of any vacillation as to religion appear. Of the unfortunate conference between Du Plessis Mornay and Du Perron, in the presence of Henry [V., where Casaubon himself had been one of the umpires, he speaks with great regret, though with a full acknowledgment that his champion had been worsted. Quod scnbis de congressu Diomedis cum Glauco, sic est onmino, ut tu judicas recto. Vir optimus, si eum suaprudentia orbi Gallico satis ex- plorata non defecisset, nunquam ejus certaminis alearn subiisset. After much more he concludes : Equidem in lacrymas prope adducor, quoties subit animo tristissima illius diei species, cum de in- genua nobilitate, de excellent! ingenio, de ipsa de- nique veritate pompatice adeo vidi triumphatum Epist. 21-1 (Oct., 1600). See also a letter to Hein- sius on the same subject. Casaub., Epist. 809. In a. letter to Perron himself, in 1604, he professed to adhere to Scripture alone, against those who vetustatis auctoritatern pro ratione obtendunt. Epist. 417. A change, however, came gradually over his mind, and he grew fascinated by this very au- thority of antiquity. In 1609 he had, by the king's command, a conference on religion with Du Per- ron, but very reluctantly, and, as his biographer owns, quibusdam visus est quodamrnodo cespitasse Casaubon was, for several reasons, no match in such a disputation for Perron. In the first place, he was poor and weak, and the other powerful, which is a reason that might dispense with our giving any others ; but, secondly, he had less learning in the fathers ; and, thirdly, he was entangled by deference for these same fathers ; finally, he was not a man of as much acutenessand eloquence as his antagonist. The issue of battle does not follow the better cause, but the sharper sword, especially when there is so much ignoratio elenchi as in this case. t Perron continued to persecute Casaubon with argument, whenever he met him in the king's li- brary. Je vous confesse (the latter told Wytenbo- gart) qu'il m'a donnd beaucoup des scrupules qui me restent,et auxquels je ne scai pasbien repondre . . . il me fache de rougir. L'escapade que je prens est que je ri'y puis repondre, mais que j'y penserai. Casaubom Vita (ad edit. Epistolarum, 1709). And, in writing to the same Wyteribogart, Jan., 1610, we find similar signs of wavering-. Me, ne quid dissimulem, hasc tanta diversitas a fide veteris ecclesiae non parum turbat. Ne de aliis dicam, in re sacramentaria a majoribus discessit Lutherus, a Luthero Zuinglius, ab utroque Calvinus, a Calvino qui postea scripserunt. Nam constat mini ac certis- simum est, doctrinam Calvini de sacra eucharistia longe aliam esse ab ea qua? in libro observandi viri Molinjei nostri continetur, et quae vulgo in ecclesiis nostris auditur. Itaque Molinoeum qui oppugnant, Calvinum illi non minus objiciunt, quam aliquem e veteribus ecclesiae doctoribus. Si sic pergimns, quis tandem erit exitus ? Jam quod idem Moli- nsus, omnes veterum librossuae doctrinae contrarios respuit, ut uTroSaXi/jatouy, cui mediocriter docto fidem used to assail him with arguments he could not parry. If we may believe this cardi- nal, he was on the point of declaring pub- licly his conversion before he accepted the invitation of James I. to England ; and even while in England he promoted the faciet? Falsus illi Cyrillus, Hierosolymorumepis- copus ; falsus Gregorius Nyssenus, falsus Ambro- sius, falsi omnes. Mihi liquet falli ipsum, et ilia scripta esse verissima, quae ille pronuntiat yevtitm- ypatya. Ep. 670. See also Epist. 1043, written from Pans in the same year. lie came now to Eng land, and to his great satisfaction found the church and its prelates exactly what he would wish, lllud solatio mihi est, quod in hoc regno speciem agnosco veteris ecclesiw, quam ex patrum scriptis didici. Adde qnod episcopis otr^epat avvSiaytit doctissimis, sapientissimis, twefcorrtroij, et quod novum mihi est, prises ecclesia3 amantissimis (Lond., 1611). Ep. 703. His letters are full of similar language. See 743. 7-44, 772, &c. He combined this inordi- nate respect for authority with its natural concom- itant, a desire to restrain free inquiry. Though his patristic lore should have made him not unfavoura- ble to the Arminians, he wrote to Bertius, one of their number, against the liberty of conscience they required. Ilia quam passim celebras, prophetandi libertas, bonis et piis hujus ecclesise viris mirum in modum suspecta res est et odiosa. Nemo enim dubitat de pietate Christiana actum esse inter vos, si quod videris agere, illustrissimis ordinibus fuerit semel persuasum, ut liberum unicuique essevelint, via regia relicta semitam ex animi libidine sibi aliis- que aperire. Atqui veritas, ut scis, in omnibus re- bus scientiis et disciplinis vmica est, et TO fyavtiv ravro inter ecclesiae vera; notas, fateantur omnes, non est postrema. Ut nulli esse dubium possit, quin tot iroXuo-^tiJjif semitos totidem sint errorum diverticula. Quod olim de politicis rebus pruden- tissirni phiiosophorum dixerunt, id mihi videtur multo etiam magis in ecclesiasticis locum habere, rrjv ayav e\tvQcpiav ti; ^ouXeiav E| avay/oys TsXsurav, et xnaavTvpavvi&ii uvap^iaj esse KpetTTtjv [sic !] et Op- tabiliorern. . . . Ego qui inter pontificios diu sum in patria mea versatus.hoc tibi possum affirmare, nul- la re magis stabiliri r>jv rvpavvtSa rov ^^, quam dis- sendonibus nostris et dissidiis. Meric Casaubon's " Pietas contra Maledicos Pa- trii Nominis ac Religionis Hostes" is an elaborate vindication of his father against all charges alleged by his adversaries. The only one that presses ia that of wavering in religion. And here Meric can- didly owns that his father had been shaken by Per- ron about 1610. (See this tract subjoined to Alme- loveen's edition of the Epistles, p. 89.) But after- ward, by dint of theological study, he got rid of the scruples the cardinal had infused into him, and be- came a Protestant of the new Anglican school, admiring the first six centuries, and especially the period after Constantine ; Hoc saeculura cum duo- bus sequentibus nK^/T^; eKK\r]a//npri7roir, quarn ecclesise, et quidern suaj, Ro- manenses ascrtbunt, cum natural! ratione non sit evidens, nam ipsi fatentur Judaicam ecclesiam id privilegium non habuisse, sequitur ut adversus ne- gantes probari debeat ex sacris litcris. Epist., se- cunda series, p. 701 (1020). And again : Qua? scri- bit pater de resituendis rebus in eum statum, qvii ante concilium Tridentinum fuerat, esset quidem hoc perrnultum ; sed transubstaritiatio etei respon- dens adoratio pridem Lateranensi concilio definita est, et invocatio peculiaris sanctorum pridem in otn- nes liturgias recepta, p. 772 (1623). Grotius passed most of his latter years at Paris, in the honourable station of ambassador from the court of Sweden. He seems to have thought it a matter of boast that he did not live as a Protestant. See Ep. 190. The Huguenot ministers of Cha- renton requested him to communicate with them, which he declined, p. 854, 856 (1035). lie now was brooding over a scheme of union among Prot- estants: the English and Swedish churches were to unite, and to be followed by Denmark. Consti- tuto semel aliquo tali ecclesiarum corpore, spes est subinde alios atque alios se aggregaturos. Est au- tem haec res eo magis optanda protestantibus, quod quotidie multi eos deserunt et se coetibus Kotnan- ensium addunt, non alia de causa, quam quod non unutn est eorum corpus, sed partes distracts, gre- ges, segregcs, propna cuique sna sacrorurn com- munio, ingtns praeterea maledicendi certamen Epist. 866. (1637). See also p. 827(1030). He fan- cied that by such a weight of authority, grounded i n the ancient church, the exercise of private judg- ment, on which he looked with horror, might be overruled. Nisi interpretandi sacras literas. he writes to Calixtus, libertatum cohibemes intra line- ns eorum, quae omnes ilia? non sanctitate minus quam primaeva vetustate venerabiles ebclesiae ex ipsa praedicatione scripturis ubique consenliente hau- serint, diuque sub crucis maxime magisterio retin- uerint, nisi deinde in iisquaj liberarn habuere dispu- tationem fraterua lenitate ferre alii alios discimus, quis erit litium saspe in factiones, deinde inbella erumpentium finis? Ep. 674 (Oct., J636). Qui illamoptimam antiquitatern sequuntur ducem, quod te semper fecisse rnemini, iis non eveniet, ut rnul- liim sibi ipsis sint discolores. In Anglia vides VOL. II. E quam bene processerit dogmatum noxiorum repur- gatio, hax maxime de causa quod qui id sanctissi- rnum negotium procurandum suscepere nihil admis- cuerunt novi, nihil sui, sed ad meliora sascula inten- tam habuere oculorum aciem. Ep. 966 (1638). But he could not be long in perceiving that this union of Protestant churches was impossible from the very independence of their original constitution. He saw that there could be no practicable reunion except with Rome itself, nor that, except on an ac- knowledgment of her superiority. From the year 1010 his letters are full of sanguine hopes that this delusive vision would be realized. He still expect- ed some concession on the other side ; but, as usu- al, would have lowered his terms according to the pertinacity of his adversaries, if indeed they were still to be called his adversaries. He now publish- ed his famous annotations on Cassander, and the other tracts mentioned in the text, to which they gave rise. In these he defends almost, everything we deem popery, such as transubstantiation (Opera Theologica, iv., 619), stooping to all the nonsensical evasions of a spiritual mutation of substances and the like ; the authority of the pope (p. 642), the cel- ibacy of the clergy (p. 645), the communion in one kind (ibid.), arid, in fact, is less of a Protestant than Cassander. In his epistles he declares himself de- cidedly in favourof purgatory, as at least aprobable doctrine, p. 930. In these writings he seems to have had the countenance of Richelieu. Cardina- lis qnin cvtatftws negotium in Gallia successurum sit, dubitare se negat. Epist., sec. series, p. 912. Cardinalis Ricelianus rem successuram putat. Ita certe loquitur multis. Archiepiscopus Cantuarien- sis poenas dat honestissimi consilii, quod et aliis boms scepeevenit, p. 911. Grotius is now run away with by vanity, and fancies all will go according to his wishes, showing much ignorance of the real state of tnings. He was left by some from whom he had entertained hopes, and thought the Dutch Arminians timid. Vossius ut video, prae metu, forte et ex Anglia sic jussus, auxilium suum mihi sub- trahit, p. 908. Salmasius adhuc in consiliis fluctu- at. Est in religionis rebus suse parti addictior quarn putabatur, p. 912. De Episcopio doleo; est vir magm iugenii et probus, sed nimium cupidus alen- dse partis. But it is probable that he had misinter- preted some language of these great men, who con- templated with regret the course he was taking, which could be no longer a secret. De Grotii ad pnpam dcfectione, a French Protestant of some em- inence for learning writers, tanquam re certa, quod fama istuc distulit, verum non est. Sed non sine magno metu eum aliquid istiusmodi meditantem et conantem quotidie inviti videmus. Inter Protestan- tes cujuslibet ordmis npmen ejus ascribi vetat.quod eos atrocius sugillavit in Appendice de Antichristo, et Annotatis ad Cassandri consultationem. Sarra- vii Epistolte, p. 58 (1642). And again he expresses his strong .disapprobation of one of the later trea- tises. Verissirne dixit ille qui primus dixit Groti- um pnpissare, p. 196. See also p. 31, 53. In 1642 Grotius had become wholly averse to the Reformation. He thought it had done more harm than good, especially by the habit of interpreting everything on the papal side for the worse Malos mores qni mansere corrigi acquum st. Sed an non hoc melius successurum fuerit, si quisque semet repurgans pro repurgationealiorumprecesad Deum tulisset, et principes et episcopi correctionemdesid- erantes, non rupta compage, per concilia univer- salia in id laborasseht. Dignum est de quo cogite- tur, p 938. Auratus, as he calls him, that is, D'Or, 34 LITERATURE OF EUROPE are collected in the fourth volume of the theological works of Grotius. These treatises display a uniform and progress- ive tendency to defend the Church of Rome a sort of chaplain to Grotius, became a Catholic about this time. The other only says, Quod Au- ratus fecit, idem fecit aritehac vir doctissimus Pe- trus Pithaeus ; idem constituent facere Casaubonus si in Gallia mansisset, affirmavit enim id inter alios etiam Cordesio, p. 939. Of Casaubon he says af- terward : Casaubonus multo saniores puta-bat Ca- tholicos Gallia; quam Carentonianos Anglos au- tem Episcopos putabata schismatis culpa posse ab- solvi, p. 940. Every successive year saw him now draw nearer to Rome. Reperio autem quicquid communiter ab ecclesia occidentali quae Romanae ccJhaeretrecipitur, idem roperiri apud Patres veteres Graecos et Latinos, quorum coinrminionem reti- nendam esse vix quisquam neget. Si quid praeter hoc est, id ad liberas doctorum opinationes perti- net ; in quibus suum quis judicium sequi potest, et communionis jus non amittere, p. 958. Episco- pius was for limiting articles of faith to the creed. But Grotius did not agree with this, and points out that it would not preserve uniformity. Quam mul- ta jam sunt de sacramentis, de ecclesiarum regt- mine, in quibus, vel concordiae causa, certi aliquid observari debet. Alioqui compages ecclesiae tanto- pere nobis commendata retineri noti potest, p. 941. It would be endless to quote every passage tending to the same result. Finally, in a letter to his broth- er in Holland, he expresses his hope that Wyten- bogart, the respectable patriarch of Anninianism, would turn his attention to the means of restoring unity to the church. Velim D. Wytenbogardum, ubi permiserit vaietudo, nisi id jam fecerit, scrip- turn aliquid facere de necessitate restitnenda: in ecclesia unitatis, et quibus modis id iieri possit. Multi pro reinedio monstrant, si necessaria a non necessariis separentur, in non necessariis sive cre- tlitu sive factu relinquatur libertas. At non minor est controversia, quae sint necessaria, quarn quae sint vera. Indicia, aiunt, sunt in scripturis. At certe etiam circa ilia loca variat interpretatio. Quare nondurn video an quid sit melius, quam ea quas ad fitiem et bona opera nos ducunt retinere, ut sunt in ecclesia Catholica.; puto enirn in lis esse quae sunt necessaria ad salutem. In csuteris ea quae conciliorum auctoritate, aut veterum consensu re- cepta sunt, interpretan eo modo quo interpretati sunt illi qui commodissime sunt locuti,quales sem- per aliqui in quaque materia facile reperientur. Si quis id a se impetrare non possit, ut taceat, nee propter res de quibus certus non est, sed opinatio- nem tantum quandam habet, turbet unitatem ec- clesise necessariam, quas nisi retinetur ubi est, et restituitur ubi non est, omnia ibunt in pejus, p. 900 (Nov., 1643). Wytenbogart replied very well : Si ita se res habet, ut indicia necessariorum et non necessariorum in scriptura repenri nequeant, sed quaeri debeant in auctoritate conciliorum aut vete- rum consensn, eo modo quo interpretati sunt illi, qui cotnmodissime locuti sunt, prout Excellentia tua videtur existimare, nescio an viginti quinque anni, etiamsi illi mihi adhuc restarent, omnesque exigui ingenii corporisque inei vires in mea essent potestate, sufficerent ut maturo cum judicio perle- gam et expendam omnia quaa eo pertinent. This letter is in the Epistolae praestantiurn et eruditorum virorum edited by Limborch in 1683, p. 826. And Grotius's answer is in the same collection. It is that of a man who throws off a mask he had re- luctantly worn. There was, in fact, no other means of repelling Wytenbogart's just observation on the moral impossibility of tracing for ourselves the doctrine of the Catholic Church as an historical inquiry. Grotius refers him to a visible standard. Quare considerandum est, an non faciliuset aequius sit, quoniam doctrina de gratia, de libero arbitrio, necessitate fidei bonorumque operutn obtinuit in ecc'esia qua pro se habet universale regimen et or- dinem successionis, privacos se in aliis accommo- dare, pacis causa, iis qua) universaliter sunt recep- ta, sive ea aptissirnis esplicationibus recipiendo, sive tacendo, quam corpus illud Catholicum ec- clesiae se in articulo tolerantias accommodare de- bere uniuscujusque considerationibus et placitis. Exempli gratia : Catholica ecclesia neinini praescri- bit ut precetur pro mortuis, aut opern precum sanc- torunvvita hac defunctorum imploret; solurnmodo requirrt, ne quis morern adeo antiquiim et genera- lem condemnet. The church does, in fact, rather more than he insinuates, though less than Protest- ants generally fancy. I have trespassed on the patience of the general reader in this very long note, which may be thought a superfluous digression in a work of mere litera- ture. But the epistles of Grotius are not much read, nor are they in many private libraries. The index is also very indifferent, so that without the trouble I have taken of going over the volume, it might be difficult to rind these curious passages. I ought to mention that Burigny has given references to most of them, but with few quotations. Lo Clerc, in the first volume of the BibliothSque Uni- verselle, reviewing the epistles of Grotius, slides very gently over his bias towards popery ; and I have met with well-informed persons in England who had no conception of the lengths to which thid had led him. It is of far more importance, and the best apology I can offer for so proiix a note, to per- ceive by wtiat gradual, but, as I think, necessary steps, he was drawn onward by his excessive re- spect for antiquity, and by his exaggerated notions of Catholic unity, preferring at last to err with the many than to be right with the few. If Grotius had learned to look the hydra schism in the face he would have had less fear of its many heads, and, at least, would have dreaded to cut them off at the neck, lest the source of life should be in one of them. That Grotius really thought as the fathers of Trent thought upon all points in dispute, cannot be supposed. It was not in the power of a man of his learning and thoughtfulness to divest himself of his own judgment, unless he had absolutely subjugated his reason to religious awe, which was far from being the case. His aim was to search for subtle interpretations, by which he might profess to be- lieve the words of the church, though conscious that his sense was not that of the imposers. It is needless to say that this is not very ingenuous ; and even if it could be justifiable relatively to the person, would be an abandonment of the multitude to any superstition and delusion which might be put upon them. Via ad pacem expeditissima mihi videtur, si doctrina, communi consensu recepta, commod^ explicetur, mores, sanae doctrinae adversantes, quan- tum fieri potest, tollantur, et in rebus rnedus ac- commodet se pars ingenio totius. Epist. 1524. Peace was his main object ; if toleration had been as well understood as it was afterward, he would, perhaps, have compromised less. Baxter having published a treatise of the Grotian Religion, wherein he imputed to Grotius this incli- nation towards the Church of Rome, Archbishop Bramhall replied, after the Restoration, with a vin- dication of Grotius, in which he does not say much to the purpose, and seems ignorant of the case. The epistles, indeed, were not then published. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 35 in everything that can be reckoned essen- tial to her creed ; and, in fact, he will be found to go farther in this direction than Cassander. 14. But if any one could put a different interpretation on these works, which would require a large measure of prejudice, the epistles of Grotius afford such evidence of his secession from the Protestant side as no reasonable understanding can reject. These are contained in a large folio vol- ume, published in 1687, and amount to 17G6 of one series, and 744 of another, I have quoted the former, for distinction's sake, by the number, and the latter by the page. Few, we may presume, have taken the pains to go through them, in order to extract all the passages that bear upon this subject. It will be found that he be- gan, as I have just said, by extolling the authority of the Catholic or Universal Church, and its exclusive right to estab- lish creeds of faith. He some time after- ward ceased to frequent the Protestant worship, but long kept his middle path, and thought it enough to inveigh against the Jesuits and the exorbitances of the See of Rome. But his reverence for the writers of the fourth and fifth centuries grew continually stronger ; he learned to protest against the privilege, claimed by the reformers, of interpreting Scripture otherwise than the consent of the an- cients had warranted ; visions, first of a union between the Lutheran and English churches, and then of one with Rome it- self, floated before his eyes ; he sought religious peace with the latter, -as men seek it in opposition to civil government, by the redress of grievances and the sub- sequent restoration of obedience. But in proportion as he perceived how little of concession was to be obtained, he grew himself more ready to concede ; and, though at one time he seems to deny the infallibility of the Church, and at another would not have been content with placing all things in the state they were before the Council of Trent, he came ultimately to think such a favourable sense might be put on all the Tridentine decrees as to render them compatible with the Confes- sion of A ugsburg. Besides the passages in these epistles above quo- ted, the reader who wishes to follow this up may consult Epist. 1108, 1460, 15C1, 1570, 1706 of the first series ; and in the second series, p. 875, 896, 940, 943, 959, 9GO, 975. But there are also many to which I have made no reference. 1 do not quote authorities for the design of Grotius to have de- dared himself a convert if he had lived to return to France, though they are easily found ; because the testimony of his writings is far stronger than any anecdote. 15. From the year 1640 his course seems to have been accelerated; he inti- mates no disapprobation of those who went over to Rome ; he found, as he tells us, that whatever was generally received in the Church of Rome had the authority of those Greek and Latin fathers whose communion no one would have refused; and at length, in a remarkable letter to Wytenbogart, bearing date in 1644, he puts it as worthy to be considered, wheth- er it would not be more reasonable for private men, who find the, most essential doctrines in a church of a universal hie- rarchy and a legitimate succession, to wave their differences with it for the sake of peace, by putting the best interpreta- tions they can, only keeping silence o^ their own opinions, than that the Catholic Church should accommodate itself to the separate judgment of such men. Grotius had already ceased to speak of the Ar- minians as if he was one of themselves though with much respect for some of their leaders. 16. Upon a dispassionate examination of all these testimonies, we can hardly deem it an uncertain question whether Grotius, if his life had been prolonged, would have taken the easy leap that still remained; and there is some positive evi- dence of his design to do so. But, dying on a journey, and in' a Protestant country, this avowed declaration was never made. Fortunately, indeed, for his glory, 'since his new friends would speedily have put his conversion to the proof, and his latter years might have been spent, like those of Lipsius, in defending legendary mira- cles, or in waging war against the hon- oured dead of the Reformation. He did not sufficiently remember that a silent neutrality is never indulged to a suspi- cious proselyte. 17. It appears to me, nevertheless, that Grotius was very far from having truly ubjected his understanding to the Church of Rome. The whole bent of his mind was to effect an exterior union among Christians ; and for this end he did not tiesitate to recommend equivocal senses of words, convenient explanations, and respectful silence. Listening attentively, if I may be allowed such a metaphor, we hear the chant of the ^Esculapian cock in all he has written for the Catholic Church. He first took up his reverence for antiqui- ty, because he found antiquity unfavoura- ble to the doctrine of Calvin. His antipa- thy to this reformer and to his followers led him on to an admiration of the Epis- copal succession, the organized hierarchy, the ceremonial and liturgical institutions. 36 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the high notions of sacramental rites, which he found in the ancient Church, and which Luther and Zuingle had cast away. He became imbued with the notion of unity as essential to the Catholic Church ; but he never seems to have gone the length of abandoning his own judgment, or of asserting any positive infallibility to the decrees of man. For it is manifest that, if the Councils of Nice or of Trent were truly inspired, it would be our busi- ness to inquire what they meant them- selves, not to put the most convenient in- terpretations, nor to search out for some author or another who may have strained their language to our own opinion. The precedent of Grotius, therefore, will not serve those who endeavour to bind the reason of the enlightened part of mankind, which he respected like his own. Two predominant ideas seem to have swayed the mind of this great man in the very gradual transition we have indicated ; one, his extreme reverence for antiquity, and for the consent of the Catholic Church ; the other, his Erastian principles as to the authority of the civil magistrate in mat- ters of religion. Both conspired to give him an abhorrence of the " liberty of prophesying," the right of private men to promulgate tenets inconsistent with the established faith. In friendly conversa- tion or correspondence, even perhaps, with due reserve, in Latin writings, much might be indulged to the learned ; room was to be found for an Erasmus and a Cassander ; or, if they would themselves consent, for an Episcopius and a Wyten- bogart, at least for a Montagu and a Laud ; but no pretext was ever to justify a sep- aration. The scheme of Grotius is, in a modified degree, much the same as that of Hobbes. 18. In the Lutheran Church we find an eminent contemporary of Grotius, who may be reckoned his counter- part in the motives which influenced him to seek for an entire union of religious parties, though resembling him far more in his earlier opinions than in those to which he ultimately arrived. This was George Calixtus, of the University of Helmstadt, a theologian the most tolerant, mild, and catholic in his spirit, whom the Confession of Augsburg had known since Melanchthon. This University, indeed, which had never subscribed the Form of Concord, was already distinguished by freedom of inquiry, and its natural con- comitant, a large and liberal spirit. But in his own church generally, Calixtus found as rigid schemes of orthodoxy, and perhaps a more invidious scrutiny into the recesses of private opinion, than in that of Rome, with a less extensive basis of authority. The dream of good men in this age, the reunion of Christian church- es in a common faith, and, meanwhile, the tolerance of differences, were ever the aim of Calixtus. But he fell, like the Angli- can divines, into high notions of primitive tradition, placing, according to Eichhorn and Mosheim, the unanimity of the first six centuries by the side of Scripture it- self. He was assailed by the adherents of the Form of Concord with aggravated virulence and vulgarity ; he was accused of being a papist and a Calvinist ; reproach- es equally odious in their eyes, and there- fore fit to be heaped on his head ; the in- consistency of calumnies being no good reason with bigots against uttering them.* 19. In a treatise, published long after his death, in 1697, De tolerantia msattempts Reformatorum circa quaestiones at concord, inter ipsos et Augustanam confessionem professos controversas consultatio, it is his object to prove that the Calvinists held no such tenets as should exclude them from Christian communion. He does not deny or extenuate the reality of their differences from the Confession of Augsburg. The Lutherans, though many of them, he says, had formerly maintained the absolute decrees of predestination, were now come round to the doctrine of the first four centuries. f And he admits that the Calvinists, whatever phrases they may use, do not believe a true and sub- stantial presence in the Eucharist. J But * Eichhorn, vol. vi., part ii., p. 20. Mosheim. Biogr. Univ. t Nostri e quibus olim multi ibidem absolutum decretum approbarunt, paulatim ad sententiam pri- morum quatuor saeculorum, nempe decretum juxta prascientiam factum, receperunt. Qua in re mul- tutn egregie laboravit ^Egidius Hunnius. Difficile autem est hanc sententiarn it a proponere, ne quid Pelagianismo habere affine videatur, p. 14. J Si tamen non tam quid loquantur quam quid sentiarit attendimus, cerium est eos veri corporis et sanguinis secundum substandard acceptorum prae- sentiam non admittere. Rectius autem fuerit utramque partem simpliciter et ingenue, quod sen- tit, profited, quam alteram alteri ambiguis loquendi formulis imponere. Qualem conciliandi rationem inierunt olim Philippus et Bucerus, nempe ut prae- scriberentur formulas, quarum verba utraque pars amplecteretur, sed singular suo sensu acciperent ac interpretarentur. Quern conatum, quamyis ex pio eoque ingente concordiae desiderio et studio profec- tum, nulla successes felicitas excepit, p. 70. This observation is very just in the abstract; but in the early period of the Reformation, there were strong reasons for evading points of difference, in the hope that truth would silently prevail in the course of time. We, however, who come later, are to follow the advice of Calixtus ; and in judging, as well as we can, of the opinions of men, must not altogethe regard their words. Upon no theological contro versy, probably, has there been so much of studied FROM 1GOO TO 1650. neither of these errors, if such they are, he takes to be fundamental. In a shorter and more valuable treatise, entitled Desi- derium et studium concordiae ecclesiasti- cs, Calixtus proposes some excellent rules for allaying religious heats. But he leans far too much towards the authority of tra- dition. Every church, he says, which af- firms what others deny, is bound to prove its affirmation ; first by Scripture, in which whatever is contained must be out of con- troversy ; and, secondly (as Scripture bears witness to the Church that it is the piHar and foundation of truth, and especially the primitive Church, which is called that of the saints and martyrs), by the unanimous consent of the ancient Church, above all, where the debate is among learned men. The agreement of the Church is therefore a sufficient evidence of Christian doctrine, not that of individual writers, who are to be regarded rather so far as they testify the Catholic doctrine than as they pro- pound their own.* This deference to an imaginary perfection in the Church of the fourth or fifth century must have given a great advantage to that of Rome, which is not always weak on such ground, and doubtless serves to account for those fre- quent desertions to her banner, especially in persons of very high rank, which after- ward occurred in Germany. 20. The tenets of some of those who High-church have been called High-church party in Eng- Anglicans may in themselves be little different from those of Grotius and Calixtus. But the spirit in which they have been conceived is alto- gether opposite. The one is exclusive, intolerant, severe, dogmatical, insisting on uniformity of faith as well as of exterior ambiguity as on that of the Eucharist. Calixtus passes a similar censure on the equivocations of some great men of the preceding century in his oth- er treatise mentioned in the text. * Consensu itaque primae ecclesiae ex symbolis et scriptis manifesto doctrina Christiana rectfe confir- matur. Intelligimus autem doctrinam fundamenta- lem et necessariam. non quasvis appendices et qua?s- tiones, aut etiam quorundam scripturae locorum in- terpretationes. De talibus enim unanimis et uni- versalis consensus non poterit erui vel proferri. Et magis apud plerosque spectandum est, quid tanquam communem ecclesiae sententiam proponunt, quam quomodo earn confirmant aut demonstrant, p. 85. I have not observed, in the little I know of Calix- tus, any proof of his inclination towards the Church of Rome. Gerard Vossius, as Episcopius wrote to Vorstius in 1615, declared, in his inaugural lecture as pro- fessor of theology, his determination to follow the consent of antiquity, in explicatione Scripturarnm et controversiarum diremtionibus diligenter exarni- nare et expendere Catholicum et aniiquissimum consensum, cum sine dubio illud quod a plurihus et antiquissimis dictum est, verissimum sit. Epist. Viroi \m praestantium, p. 6. observances; the other, catholic in out- ward profession, charitable in sentiment, and, in fact, one mode, though a mode as imprudent as it was oblique, in which the latitudinarian principle was manifested. The language both of Grotius and Calix- tus bears this out ; and this ought closely to be observed, les,t we confound the real laxity of one school with the rigid ortho- doxy of the other. One had it in view to reconcile discordant communions by mu- tual concession, and either by such expli- cation of contrarieties as might make them appear less incompatible with outward unity, or by an avowed tolerance of their profession within the Church; the other would permit nothing but submission to its own authority ; it loved to multiply rather than to extinguish the risks of dis- sent, in order to crush it more effectually ; the one was a pacific negotiator, the oth- er a conquering tyrant. 21. It was justly alarming to sincere Protestants that so many brill- Da ,i 16 on the iant ornaments of their party right use of should either desert to the hos- the fathers - tile side, or do their own so much injury by taking up untenable ground.* Nothing, it appeared to reflecting men, could be trusted to the argument from antiquity ; whatever was gained in the controversy on a few points was lost upon those of the first importance. It was become the only secure course to overthrow the tri- bunal. Daille, himself one of the most learned in this patristic erudition whom the French Reformed Church possessed, was the first who boldly attacked the new school of historical theology in their own stronghold, not occupying their fortress, but razing it to the ground. The design of his celebrated Treatise concerning the right use of the Fathers, published in 1628, is, in his own words, to show " that they cannot be the judges of the controversies in religion at this day between the Papist and the Protestant," nor, by parity of rea- * It was a poor consolation for so many losses, that the famous Antonio de Dominis, archbishop of Saoleto, came over to England, and by his books de RepublicaEcclesiastica.aswellas by his conver- sation, seemed an undisguised enemy to the Church of Rome. The object of his work is to prove that the pope has no superiority over other bishops. James gave De Dominis the deanery of Windsor and a liv- ing ; but whether he, strictly speaking, belonged to the Church of England, I do not remember to have read. Preferments were bestowed irregularly in that age He returned, however, to the ancient fold ; but did not avoid suspicion, being thrown into prison at Rome ; and after his death, the im- putations of heresy against him so much increased that his body was dug up and burned. Neither party has been ambitious to claim this vain and insincere, though clever prelate. 38 LITERATURE OF EUROPE soning, of many others; " 1. Because it is, if not an impossible, yet at least a very difficult thing to find out what their sense hath been touching the same. 2. Because that their sense and judgment of these things, supposing it to be certainly and clearly understood, not being infalli- ble, and without all danger of error, can- not carry with it a sufficient authority for the satisfying the understanding." 22. The arguments adduced by Daille in support of the former of these two po- sitions, and which occupy the first book of the treatise, are drawn from the pauci- ty of the early Christian writers ; from the nature of the subjects treated by them, having little relation to the present con- troversies ; from the suspicions of forgery and interpolation affecting many of their works ; the difficulty of understanding their idioms and figurative expressions ; the hab- it of some of the fathers to say what they did not believe ; their changes of mind ; the peculiar and individual opinions of some among them, affording little evidence of the doctrine of the Church ; finally, the probability that many who differed from those called the Fathers, and whose wri- tings have not descended to us, may have been of as good authority as themselves. 23. In the second book, which, in fact, has been very much anticipated in the first, he shows that neither the testimony nor the doctrine of the fathers is infallible (by which word he must be understood to mean that it raises but a slight presump- tion of truth), proving this by their errors and contradictions. Thus he concludes that, though their negative authority is considerable, since they cannot be pre- sumed ignorant of any material doctrine of religion, we are to be very slow in drawing affirmative propositions from their writings, and much more so in rely- ing upon them as undoubted verities. 24. It has been said of this treatise on the right use of the fathers, that its author had pretty well proved they were of no use at all. This, indeed, is by no means the case ; but it has certainly diminished not only the deference which many have been wont to pay to the opinion of the primitive writers, but, what is still more contended for, the value of their testimo- ny, whether as to matters of fact or as to the prevailing doctrines of the Christian Church. Nothing can be more certain, though in the warmth of controversy men are apt to disregard it, than that a witness, who deposes in any one case what can be disproved, is not entitled to belief in other assertions which we have no means of confuting, unless it be shown that the cir- ! cumstances of his evidence render it more I trustworthy in these points than we have found it before. Hence such writers as Justin and Irenaeus ought not, except with great precaution, to be quoted in proof at all, or, at least, with confidence ; their falsehood, not probably wilful, in asser- tions that have been brought to a test, ren- dering their testimony very precarious upon any other points. Daille, it may be added, uses some circumspection, as the times, if not his own disposition, required in -handling this subject, keeping chiefly in view the controversies between the Romish and Protestant churches ; nor does he ever indulge in that tone of banter or acrimony which we find in Whitby, Barbeyrac, Jortin, and Middleton ; and which must be condemned by every one who reflects that many of these writers exposed their lives, and some actually lost them, in the maintenance and propagation of Christianity. 25. This well-timed and important book met with a good reception from d J5 j .IT. u -i ^ chiihng- some m England, though it must worth's have been very uncongenial to Religion of the ruling party. It was extol- Prote led and partly translated by Lord Falk- land ; and his two distinguished friends, Chillingworth and Hales, found in it the materials of their own bold revolt against church authority. They were both Ar- minians, and, especially the former, averse in all respects to the Puritan school. But, like Episeopius, they scorned to rely, as on these points they might have done, on what they deemed so precarious and in- conclusive as the sentiments of the fathers. Chillingworth, as is well known, had been induced to embrace the Romish religion, on the usual ground that a succession of infallible pastors, that is, a collective hie- rarchy, by adhering to whom alone we could be secure from error, was to be found in that church. He returned again to the Protestant religion on being convinced that no such infallible society could be found. And a Jesuit, by name Knott, hav- ing written a book to prove that unrepent- ing Protestants could not be saved, Chil- lingworth published, in 1637, his famous answer, The Religion of Protestants a safe Way to Salvation. In this he closely tracks the steps of his adversary, replying to every paragraph and almost every sen- tence. 26. Knott is by no means a despicable writer ; he is concise, polished, character and places in an advantageous of tins work, light the great leading arguments of his church. Chillingworth, with a more dif- fuse and less elegant style, is greatly su- FROM 1600 TO 1C50. perior in impetuosity and warmth. In his long parenthetical periods, as in those of other old English writers ; in his copious- ness, which is never empty or tautologi- cal, there is an inartificial elegance, spring- ing from strength of intellect and sincer- ity of feeling, that cannot fail to impress the reader. But his chief excellence is the close reasoning, which avoids every dangerous admission, and yields to no am- biguousness of language. He perceived and maintained with great courage, con- sidering the times in which he wrote and the temper of those he was not unwilling to keep as friends, his favourite tenet, that all things necessary to be believed are clearly laid down in Scripture. Of tradi- tion, which many of his contemporary Protestants were becoming as prone to magnify as their opponents, he spoke very slightingly ; not denying, of course, a max- im often quoted from Vincentius Lirinen- sis, that a tradition strictly universal and aboriginal must be founded in truth, but being assured that no such could be shown ; and that what came nearest, both in antiquity and in evidence of Catholic reception, to the name of apostolical, were doctrines and usages rejected alike by all denominations of the Church in modern times.* It will be readily conceived that his method of dealing with the controver- sy is very different from that of Laud in his treatise against Fisher; wherein we meet chiefly with disputes on passages in the fathers, as to which, especially when they are not quoted at length, it is impossi- ble that any reader can determine for him- self. The work of Chillingworth may at least be understood and appreciated vvith- * If there were anything unwritten which had come down to us with as full and universal a tra- dition as the unquestioned books of canonical Scrip- ture, that thing should I believe as well as the Scripture ; but I have long sought for some such thing, and yet I am to seek; nay, I am confident no one point in controversy between papists and Prot- estants can go in upon half so fair cards, for to gain the esteem of an apostolic tradition, as those things which are now decried on all hands ; I mean the opinion of the Chiliasts and the communicating infants." Chap, iii., 82. He dilates upon this insecurity of tradition in some detached papers, subjoined to the best editions of his work. Chil- lingworth might have added an instance if he had been writing against Romanizing Anglicans. No- thing can come so close to the foolish rule above mentioned as the observation of celibacy by bish- ops and priests, not being married before their ordi- nation, which, till the time of Luthpr, was, as far as we have reason to believe, universally enjoined in the Church ; no one, at least, has ever alleged an instance or authority to the contrary. Yet those who talk most of the rule of Vincentius Lirinensis eet aside without compunction the only case in which we can truly say that it may with some show of probability be applied. Oinnia vincit amor. out reference to any other ; the condition, perhaps, of real superiority in all produc- tions of the mind. 27. Chillhigworth was, however, a man versed in patristical learning, by no means less so, probably, than Laud. But he had found so much uncertainty about this course of theological doctrine, seducing as it generally is to the learned, " fathers." as he expresses it, " being set against fa- thers, and councils against councils," that he declares, in a well-known passage, the Bible exclusively to be the religion of Protestants ; and each man's own rea- son to be, as from the general tenour of his volume it appears that he held it, the interpreter of the Bible.* It was a natu- ral consequence that he was a strenuous advocate, not so much for toleration of separate churches, as for such an " order- ing of the public service of God, that all who believe the Scripture, and live ac- cording to it, might, without scruple, or hypocrisy, or protestation against any part, join in it ;"f a scheme, when practica- ble, as it could not possibly be often ren- dered, far more eligible than the separa- tion of sects, and hence the favourite ob- ject of Grotius and Taylor, as well as of Erasmus and Cassander. And in a re- markable and eloquent passage, Chilling- worth declares that " Protestants are in- excusable if they did offer violence to other men's consciences ;" which Knott had said to be notorious, as, in fact, it was, and as Chillingworth ought more explicit- ly to have admitted. | " Certainly," he ob- serves in another place, " if Protestants are faulty in this matter [of claiming au- thority], it is for doing it too much and not too little. This presumptuous impo- sing of the senses of men upon the words of God, the special senses of men upon the general words of God, and laying them upon men's consciences together, under the equal penalty of death and damnation ; this vain conceit that we can speak of the things of God better than in the words of God ; this deifying our own interpreta- tions and tyrannous enforcing them upon others ; this restraining of the word of * This must always be understood with the con- dition that the reason itself shall be competently enlightened : if Chillingworth meant more than this, he carried his principle too far, as others have done. The case is parallel in jurisprudence, med- icine, mechanics, and every human science: any one man, prima facie, maybe a competent judge, but all men are not so. It is hard to prove that there is any different rule for theology ; but parties will always contend for extremes ; for the rights of bigots to think for others, and the rights of fools to think for themselves. t Chap, iii., $ 81. } Chap, v., $ 96. LITERATURE OF EUROPE God from that latitude and generality, and the understandings of men from that lib- erty wherein Christ and the apostles left them, is and hath been the only fountain of all the schisms of the Church, and that which makes them immortal ;* the com- mon incendiary of Christendom, and that which tears in pieces, not the coat, but the bowels and members of Christ. Take away these walls of separation, and all will quickly be one. Take away this per- secuting, burning, cursing, damning of men for not subscribing the words of men as the words of God ; require of Chris- tians only to believe Christ, and to call no man master but him only ; let those leave claiming infallibility that have no title to it, and let them that in their words dis- claim it, disclaim it also in their actions. In a word, take away tyranny," &c.f 28. It is obvious that in this passage, and, indeed, 'throughout the volume, Chil- lingworth contravenes the prevailing theo- ries of the Anglican Church full as dis- tinctly as those of the Roman. He esca- ped, however, unscathed by the censure of that jealous hierarchy ; his private friend- ship with Laud, the lustre of his name, the absence of factious and sectarian con- nexions, and still more, perhaps, the rapid gatherings of the storms that swept both parties away, may be assigned as his pro- tection. In later times his book obtained a high reputation ; he was called the im- mortal Chillingworth ; he was the favourite of all the moderate and the latitudinarian writers ; of Tillotson, Locke, and Warbur- ton. Those of opposite tenets, when they happen to have read his book, can do no- thing else but condemn its tendency. 29. A still more intrepid champion in Hales on the same cause was John Hales ; Schism, for his little tract on Schism, not being in any part directed against the Church of Rome, could have nothing to redeem the strong protestations against church authority, " which," as he bluntly expresses it, " is none ;" words that he afterward slightly qualified. The aim of Hales, as well as of Grotius, Calixtus, and Chillingworth, was to bring about a more comprehensive communion ; but he went still farther; his language is rough and audacious ;| his theology in some of * " This persuasion," he says in a note, " is no singularity of mine, but the doctrine which I have learned from divines of great learning and judg- ment. Let the reader be pleased to peruse the 7th book of Acontius de Stratagematibus Satanas, and Zanchius his last oration delivered by him af- ter the composing of the discord between him and Amerbachius, and he shall confess as much." t Chap, iv., <) 17. + ' I must, for my own part, confess that councils his other writings has a scent of Racow and, though these crept slowly to light, there was enough in the earliest to make us wonder at the high name, the epithet Ever-memorable, which hfc obtained in the English Church. 30. It is unnecessary to say that few disputes in theology have been contmver- so eagerly conducted or so sies " race . , -a i ., and free-will. extensively ramified as those Augustinian which relate to the free-will of scheme. man, and his capacity of turning himself towards God. In this place nothing more will be expected than a brief statement of the principal question, doing no injustice by a tone of partiality to either side. All shades of opinion, as it seems, may be reduced to two, which have long divided and will long divide the Christian world. According to one of these, the corrupt nature of man is incapable of exerting any power towards a state of acceptance with God, or even of willing it with an earnest desire, until excited by preventing (prae- veniens) grace ; which grace is vouch- safed to some only, and is called free, be- cause God is not limited by any respect of those persons to whom he accords this gift. Whether those who are thus called by the influence of the Spirit are so irre- sistibly impelled to it that their perseve- rance in the faith and good works, which and synods not only may and have erred, but, con- sidering the means how they are managed, it were a great marvel if they did not err ; for what men are they of whom those great meetings do consist? Are they the best, the most learned, the most vir- tuous, the most likely to walk uprightly? No, the greatest, the most ambitious, and many times men of neither judgment nor learning ; such are they of whom these bodies do consist. Are these men, in common equity, likely to determine for truth?" Vol. i.,p. 60, edit. 1765. " Universality is such a proof of truth as truth itself is ashamed of; for universality is but a quainter and a trimmer name to signify the multi- tude. Now human authority at the strongest is but weak, but the multitude is the weakest part of human authority ; it is the great patron of error, most easily abused and most hardly disabused. The beginning of error may be and mostly is from pri- vate persons, but the maintainer and continuer of error is the multitude. Private persons first beget errors in the multitude and make them public ; and publicness of them begets them again in private persons. It is a thing which our common experi- ence and practice acquaints us with, that, when some private persons have gained authority with the multitude, and infused some error into them and made it public, the publicness of the error gains authority to it, and interchangeably prevails with private persons to entertain it. The most singular and strongest part of human authority is prouerly in the wisest and most virtuous ; and these, I trow, are not the most universal," iii., 161. The treatise on Schism, from which these last passages are not extracted, was printed at Oxford in 1642, with some animadversio' * by the editor. Wood's Athena;, iii., 414. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 41 are the fruits of their election, may surely be relied upon, or, on the other hand, may either, at first, obdurately resist the divine impulses, or finally swerve from their state of grace, is another question upon which those who agree in the principal doctrine have been at variance. It is also controverted among those who belong to this class of theologians, whether the elec- tion thus freely made out of mankind de- pends upon an eternal decree of predesti- nation, or upon a sentence of God follow- ing the fall of man. And a third difference relates to the condition of man after he has been aroused by the Spirit from a state of entire alienation from God ; some holding that the completion as well as commencement of the work of conversion is wholly owing to the divine influence, while others maintain a co-operation of the will, so that the salvation of a sinner may, in some degree, be ascribed to him- self. But the essential principle of all whom we reckon in this category of di- vines is the necessity of preventing grace, or, in other words, that it is not in the power of man to do any act, in the first instance, towards his own salvation. This, in some or other of its modifications, used to be deemed the orthodox scheme of doctrine ; it was established in the Latin Church by the influence of Augustin ; it was generally held by the schoolmen, by most of the early reformers, and seems to be inculcated by the decrees of the Council of Trent, as much as by the arti- cles of the Church of England. In a loose and modern acceptation of the word, it often goes by the name of Calvinism, which may, perhaps, be less improper, if we do not use the term in an exclusive sense ; but, if it is meant to imply a par- ticular relation to Calvin, leads to contro- versial chicane, and a misstatement of the historical part of the question. 31. An opposite class of theological Semi-pcia- rcasoners belong to what is some- gian hy- times called the Semi-pelagian poihesis. sc hool. These concur with the former in the necessity of assistance from the Spirit to the endeavours of man to- wards subduing his evil tendencies, and renewing his heart in the fear and love of God, but conceive that every sinner is capable of seeking this assistance, which will not be refused him, and, consequently, of beginning the work of conversion by his own will. They therefore either deny the necessity of preventing grace, except such as is exterior, or, which comes ef- fectively to the same thing, assert that it is accorded in a sufficient measure to every one within the Christian Church, VOL. II. F whether at the time of baptism, or by some other means. They think the op- posite opinion, whether founded on the hypothesis of an eternal decree or not, irreconcilable with the moral attributes of the Deity, and inconsistent with the general tenour of Scripture. The Semi- pelagian doctrine is commonly admitted to have been held by the Greek fathers ; but the authority of Augustin and the decision of the Western Church caused it to assume the character of a heresy. Some of the Scotists among the schoolmen appear to have made an approach to it, by their tenet of grace ex congruo. They thought that the human virtues and moral dispositions of unregenerate men were the predispo- sing circumstances which, by a sort of fit- ness, made them the objects of divine goodness in according the benefits of his grace. Thus their own free-will, from which it was admitted that such qualities and actions might proceed, would be the real, though mediate, cause of their con- version. But this was rejected by the greater part, who asserted the absolute irrespective freedom of grace, and appealed to experience for its frequent efficacy over those who had no inherent virtues to merit it. 32. The early reformers, and none more than Luther, maintained the ab- Tenets ofthe SOlllte paSSiveneSS Of the hu- reformers. man will, so that no good actions, even af- ter conversion, could be ascribed in any proper sense to man, but altogether to the operation of the Spirit. Not only, how- ever, Melanchthon espoused the Syner- gistic doctrine, but the Lutheran Church, not in any symbolic book, but in the gen- eral tenets of its members, has been thought to have gone a good way towards Semi-pelagianism, or what passed for such with the more rigid party.* In the Re- formed Church, on the contrary, the Su- pra-lapsarian tenets of Calvin, or the im- mutable decrees of election and reproba- tion from all eternity, were obviously in- compatible with any hypothesis that made the salvation of a sinner depend upon him- self. But, towards the close of the six- teenth century, these severer notions (which, it may be observed, by-the-way, had always been entirely rejected by the Anabaptists, and by some of greater name, such as Sebastian Castalio) began to be impugned by a few learned men. This * LeClerc says that the doctrine of Melanchthon, which Bossuet stigmatizes as Semi-pelagian, is that of ihe Council of Trent. Bibl. Choisie, -v., 341. I should put a different construction upon the Tri- dentine canons : but, of course, my practice in tuese nice questions is not great. 42 LITERATURE OF EUROPE led in England to what are called the Lam- beth articles, drawn up by Whitgift, six of which assert the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination, and three deny that of the Semi-pelagians. But these, being not quite approved by the queen or by Lord Bur- leigh, were never received by authority in our church. There can, nevertheless, be no reasonable or even sincere doubt that Calvinism, in the popular sense, was at this time prevalent ; even Hooker adopted the Lambeth articles, with verbal modifi- cations that do not affect their sense. 33. The few who, in England or in the Rise of Ar- reformed churches upon the Con- minianism. tinent, embraced these novel and heterodox opinions, as they were then ac- counted, within the sixteenth century, ex- cited little attention in comparison with James Arminius, who became professor of theology at Leyden in 1604. The con- troversy ripened in a few years ; it was intimately connected, not, of course, in its own nature, but by some of those collat- eral influences which have so often deter- mined the opinions of mankind, with the political relations between the Dutch cler- gy and the States of Holland, as it was af- terward with the still less theological dif- ferences of that government with its Stadtholder ; it appealed, on one side, to reason ; on the other, to authority and to force ; an unequal conflict till posterity restore the balance. Arminius died in 1609 ; he has left works on the main top- ics of debate ; but, in theological literature, the great chief of the Arminian or Remon- strant Church is Simon Episco- Episcopms. piug The p rillc jpi es o f Episco- pius are more widely removed from those of the Augustinian* school than the five articles, so well known as the leading tenets of Arminius, and condemned at the Synod of Dort. Of this famous assembly it is difficult to speak in a few words. The copious history of Brandt is perhaps the best authority, though we must own that the opposite party have a right to be heard. We are here, however, on merely literary ground, and the proceedings of ecclesiastical synods are not strictly with- in any province of literary history. 34. The works of Episcopius were col- lectively published hi 1650, sev- H writings. gn ycars after hig death They form two volumes in folio, and have been more than once reprinted. The most re- markable are the Confessio Remonstran- tium, drawn up about 1624 ; the Apology for it against a censure of the opposite party ; and, what seems to have been a later work and more celebrated, his Insti- tuliones Theologies. These contain a new scheme of religion, compared with that of the established churches of Eu- rope, and may justly be deemed the repre- sentative of the liberal or latitudinarian theology. For, though the writings of Erasmus, Cassander, Castalio, and Acon- tius had tended to the same purpose, they were either too much weakened by the restraints of prudence, or too obscure and transitory to draw much attention, or to carry any weight against the rigid and ex- clusive tenets which were sustained by power. 35. The earlier treatises of Episcopiua seem to speak on several sub- Their spirit jects less unequivocally than and tendency. the Theological Institutions ; a reserve not perhaps to be censured, and which all parties have thought themselves warrant- ed to employ, so long as either the hope of agreement with a powerful adversary or of mitigating his severity should re- main. Hence the Confession of the Re- monstrants explicitly states that they de- cline the Semi-pelagian controversy, con- tenting themselves with asserting that suf- ficient grace is bestowed on all who are called by the Gospel, to comply with that divine call and obey its precepts.* They used a form of words, which might seem equivalent to the tenet of original sin, and they did not avoid or refuse that term. But Episcopius afterward denies it, at leas in the extended sense of most theologians, almost as explicitly as Jeremy Taylor.f It was common in the seventeenth centu- ry to charge the Arminians, and especial- ly Episcopius, with Socinianism. Bos- suet, who seems to have quarrelled with all parties, and is neither Molinist nor Jansenist, Calvinist nor Arminian, never doubting that there is a firm footing be- tween them, having attacked Episcopius and Grotius particularly for Semi-pelagi- anism and Socinianism, Le Clerc entered * Episcop. Opera, vol. i., p. 64. De eo nemini litem movent Remonstrantes. 1 am not sure that my translation is right ; but I think it is what they meant. By prevenient grace they seemed to have meant only the exterior grace of the Gospel's pro- mulgation, which is equivalent to the Semi-pelagian scheme (p. 180). Grotius latterly came into this opinion, though he had disclaimed everything of the kind in his first dealings with theology. 1 have found the same doctrine in Calixtus ; but I have preserved no reference as to either. t Instit. Theolog., lib. iv., sect, v., c. 2. Corrup- tionis istius universaiisnullasunt indicia nee signa, imo non pauca sunt signa ex quibus colligitur natu- ram totam humanarn sic corruptam non esse. The whole chapter, Ubide peccato,quodyocant,origini9 agitur, et praecipua S. S.loca quibus inniti creditur, examinantur, appears to deny the doctrine entirely ; hut there may be some shades of distinction which have escaped me. Limborch (Theolog. Christiana lib. hi., c. 4} allows it in a qualified sense. FROM 1600 TO 1650. on their defence. But probably he would have passed with Bossuet, and hardly cared if he did pass, for a heretic, at least of the former denomination himself.* 36. But the most distinguishing peculiar- Great laii- ity m the writings of Episcopius tude allow, was his reduction of the funda- cd by ihem. menta l doctrines of Christianity far below the multitudinous articles of the churches ; confining them to propositions which no Christian can avoid acknowledg- ing without manifest blame ; such, namely, wherein the subject, the predicate, and the connexion of the two are declared in Scrip- ture by express or equivalent Avords.f He laid little stress on the authority of the Church, notwithstanding the advan- tage he might have gained by the anti- Calvinistic tenets of the fathers ; admitting, indeed, the validity of the celebrated rule of Vincentius Lirinensis in respect of tradition, which the upholders of primi- tive authority have always had in their mouths, but adding that it is utterly im- possible to find any instance wherein it can be usefully applied. J 37. The Arminian doctrine spread, as Progress of is well known, in despite of Arminianism. obloquy and persecution, over much of the Protestant region of Europe. The Lutheran churches were already come into it ; and in England there was a pre- disposing bias in the rulers of the Church towards the authority of the primitive fathers, all of whom, before the age of * Bihl. Choisie, vol. v. t Necessaria quae scripturis continentur talia esse omnia, ut sine manifesta hominis culpa ignorari, negariaut indubiumvocari nequeant ; quia videlicet turn subjectum, turn prsedicatum, turn subject! cum prardicato connexio necessaria in ipsis scripturis est, aut expresse, aut sc-quipollenter. Inst. Theo., 1. iv., C. 9. J Instit. Theolog., 1. iv., sect, i., c. 15. Dupin eays of Episcopius: II n'a employe dans ses ou- vrages que des passages de l'6criture sainte qu'il possedoit parfaitement. 11 avoit aussi lu les Rab- bins, mais on ne voit pas qu'il cut etudie les peres ni 1'antiquite ecclesiastique. 11 ecrit nettement et rn6thodiquement, pose des principes, ne dissimule rien des objections qu'on peut faire centre, et y repond du mieux qu'il peut. On voit en lui une tolerance parfaite pour les Sociniens qupiqu'il se declare contre eux ; pour le parti d' Armimus, ja- mais il n'a eu de plus zele et de plus habile defen seur. Bibliothcquedes Auteurs separesde FEglise Romaine, ii., 495. The life of Episcopius has been written by Lim- borch. Justice has been done to this eminent per- son, and to the Arminian party which he led, in two recent English works, Nicholls's Calvinism and Arminianism disolayed, and Calder's Life of Epis- copius (1835). The latter is less verbose and more temperate than the former, and may be recom- mended as a fair and useful production to the general reader. Two theological parties in this country, though opposite in most things, are in- veterately prejudiced against the Leyden school. Augustin, and especially the Greek, are acknowledged to have been on that side .vhich promoted the growth of this Bata- vian theology.* Even in France it was lot without considerable influence. ameron, a divine of Saumur, one of the chief Protestant seminaries, devised a scheme of syncretism, which, notwith- standing much opposition, gained ground n those churches. It was supported by some highly distinguished for learning, Amyraut, Daille, and Blondel. Of this scheme it is remarkable, that while, in its iteral purport, it can only seem a modifica- tion of the Augustinian hypothesis, with an awkward and' feeble admixture of the other, yet its tendency was to efface the former )y degrees, and to slide into the Arminian hypothesis, which ultimately became al- most general in the Reformed Church. 38. These perplexities were not con- fined to Protestant theology. The Rise of Church of Rome, strenuous to Jansenism, maintain the tenets of Augustin, and yet to ondemn those who did the same, has been harged with exerting the plenitude of tier infallibility to enforce the belief of an incoherent syncretism. She had con- demned Baius as giving too much efficacy to grace ; she was on the point of con- demning Molina for giving too little. Both Clement VJIII. and Paul V. leaned to the Dominicans against the Jesuits in this controversy; but the great services and influence of the latter order prevented a decision which would have humbled them before so many adversaries. It may never- theless be said that the Semi-pelagian or Arminian doctrine, though consonant to that of the Jesuits, was generally ill re- ceived in the Church of Rome, till the opposite hypothesis, that of Augustin and Calvin, having been asserted by one man in more unlimited propositions than had been usual, a reaction took place, that eventually both gave an apparent triumph to the Molinist party, and endangered the Church itself by the schism to which the controversy gave rise. The Augustinus * Gerard Vossius, in his Historia Pelagiana, the first edition of which, in 1618, was considerably en- larged afterward, admitted that the first four centu- ries did not countenance the predestinarian scheme of Augustin. This gave offence in Holland ; his book was publicly censured, he was excommuni- cated and forbidden to teach in public or private. Vossius, like others, remembered that he had a large family, and made, after some years, a sort of retraction, which, of course, did not express his real opinion. Le Clerc seems to doubt whether he acted from this motive or from what he calls sim- plicity, an expression for weakness. Vossius was, like his contemporary Usher, a man of much more learning than strength of intellect Bibliotheque Universelle, xvii., 3J2, 329. Miceron, vol. xiii. LITERATURE OF EUROPE of Jansenius, Bishop of Ypres, was pub- lished in 1640, and in the very next year was censured at Rome. But as the great controversy that sprung out of the con- demnation of this book belongs more strictly to the next period, we shall defer it for the present. , 39. The Socinian academy at Racow, Socinus. which drew to itself several pros- VoiKeims. elytes from other countries, ac- quired considerable importance in theo- logical literature after the beginning of the century. It was not likely that a sect, regarded with peculiar animosity would escape in the general disposition of the Catholic party in Poland to oppress the dissidents, whom they had long feared; the RacQvian institution was broken up and dispersed in 1638, though some of its members continued to linger in Poland for twenty years longer. The Bibliotheca Fratrum Polonorum, published at Amster- dam (in the title-page, Irenopolis) in 1658, contains chiefly the works of Socinian theologians who belong to the first part of the century. The Preelectiones Theolo- gicae of Faustus Socinus himself, being published in 1609, after his death, fall with- in this class. They contain a systematic theology according to his scheme, and are praised by Eichhorn for the acuteness and depth they often display.* In these, among his other deviations from the general or- thodoxy of Christendom, Socinus aston- ished mankind by denying the evidences of natural religion, resolving our knowl- edge even of a Deity into revelation. This paradox is more worthy of those who have since adopted it, than of so acute a reason- er as Socinus. f It is, in fact, not very con- genial to the spirit of his theology, which, rejecting all it thinks incompatible with reason as to the divine attributes, should, at least, have some established notions of them upon rational principles. The later Socinians, even those nearest to the time, did not follow their master in this part of his tenets. | The treatise of Volkelius, son-in-law of Socinus, De vera Religione, * Eichhorn, vi., part i, p 283. Simon, however, observes that Socinus knew little Greek or Hebrew, as he owns himself, though he pretends to decide questions which require a knowledge of these lan- guages. I quote from Bibliotheque Universelle, vol. xxiii., p. 498. t Tillotson, in one of his sermons (I cannot give the reference, writing from memory), dissents, as might be expected, from this denial of natural re- ligion, but with such encomiums on Socinus as some archbishops would have avoided. J Socinum sectse ejus principes nuper Volkelius, nunc Ruarus non probant, in eo quod circa Dei cognitionem petita e natura rerum argumenta ab- dicaverit. Grotius, Epist. 964. See, too, Ruari, Epist., p. 210. is chiefly taken from the latter. It was printed at Racow in 1633, and again in Holland in 1641 ; but most of the latter impression having been burned by order of the magistrates, it is a very scarce book, and copies were formerly sold at great prices. But the hangman's bonfire has lost its charm, and forbidden books, when they happen to occur, are no longer in much request. The first book out of five, in this volume of Volkelius, on the attributes of God, is by Crellius. 40. Crellius was, perhaps, the most em- inent of the Racovian school in this creiiius. century.* Many of its members, Ruarus. like himself, were Germans, their sect having gained ground in some of the Lu- theran states about this time, as it did also in the United Provinces. Grotius broke a lance with him in his treatise De Satis- factione Christi, to which he replied in another with the same title. Each retired from the field with the courtesies of chiv- alry towards his antagonist. The Dutch Arminians in general, though very erro- neously supposed to concur in all the leading tenets of the Racovian theolo- gians, treated them with much respect.f Grotius was often reproached with the intimacies he kept up among these ob- noxious sectaries ; and many of his let- ters, as well as those of Curcellaous and other leading Arminians, bear witness to the personal regard they felt for them.J * Dupin praises Volkelius highly, but says of Crellius, II avoit beaucoup etudie, mais il n'e"toit pas un esprit fort eleve Bibl. des Auteurs sepa- res, ii., 614, v., 628. Simon, on the contrary (ubi supra), praises Crellius highly, and says no other commentator of his party is comparable to him. t The Remonstrants refused to anathematize the Socinians, Episcopius says, on account of the ap- parent arguments in their favour", and the differen- ces that have always existed on that head. Apolo- gia Confessionis. Episc , Op., vol. i. His own tenets were probably what some would call Arian ; thus he says, personis his tribus divinitatem tribui, non collateraliter ant co-ordinate, sed subordinate. Inst. Theol., 1. iv., c. 2, 32. Grotius says, he finds the Catholics more tractable about the Trinity than the Calvinists. t Grotius never shrunk from defending his inti- macy with Ruarus and Crellius; and, after prais- ing the former, concludes, in one of his letters, with this liberal and honest sentiment. Ego vero ejus sum animi, ejusque instituti, ut mihi cum hominibus cunctis, praecipue cum Christianis quan- tumvis errantibus necessitudinis aliquid putem in- tercedere, idque me neque dictis neque factis pigeat demonstrare. Epist. 860. Haeretici nisi aiiquid haberent veri ac nobiscum commune, jam hajretici non essent. 2da Series, p. 873. JVihil veri eo fac- turn est deterius, quod in id Socinus incidit. P. 880. This, he thought, was the case in some questions, where Socinus, without designing it, had agreed with antiquity. Neque rne pudeat con- sentire Socino, si quando is in veram veteremqua sententiam incidit, ut sane fecit in controversia d> FROM 1600 TO 1650. 45 Several proofs of this will be also found in the Epistles of Ruarus, a book which throws much light on the theological opin- ions of the age. Ruarus was a man of anuleness, learning, and piety, not wholly concurring with the Racovians, but not far removed from them.* The comment- justitia per fidem, et aliis nonnullis. Id., p. 797. Socinus hoc non agens in antiquse ecclesiae sensus nonnunquam incidit, et eas paries, ut ingenio vale- bat, percoluit feliciter. Adrniscuit alia quae etiam vera dicenti auctoritatem detraxere. Epist. 966. Even during his controversy with Crellius he wrote to him in a very handsome manner. Bene autem in cpistola tua, qua; mihi longe gratissima advenit, de me judicas, non esse me eorum in numero, qui ob sententias salva pietate dissentientes, alieno a quoquam sim animo, aut boni alicujus amiuitiam repudiare. Etiarn in libro de vera religions [Vol- kelii], quern jam percurri, relecturus et posthac, multa invenio summo cum judicio observata; illud vero saculo gratulor, repertos homines, qui neuti- quatn in controversiis subtilibus tantum ponunt, quantum in vera vitas emendatione, et quotkliano ad sanctitatem profectu. Epist. 280 (1631). He wrote with kindness and regret on the breaking up of the establishment at Racow in 1638. Epist. 1006. Grotius has been as obnoxious on the score of Socinianism as of Popery. His Commentaries on the Scriptures are taxed with it, and, in fact, he is not in good odour with any but the Armiriian di- vines, nor do they, we see, wholly agree with him. *.Ruams nearly agreed with Grotius as to the atonement ; at least the latter thought so. De satisfactione ita mihi respondit, ut nihil admodum controversies relinqueretur. Grot., Epist., 2da se- ries, p. 881. See also Ruari, Epistolae, p. 148, 282. He paid also more respect to the second century than some of his brethren, p. 100, 439, and even struggles to agree with the ante-Nicene fathers, though he cannot come up to them. P. 275, 296. But, in answer to some of his correspondents who magnified primitive authority, he well replies : Deinde quaere quis illos fixit veritati terminos ? quis duo ilia prima saecula ab omni errore absolvit? Annon ecclesiastica historia satis testatur, nonnul- las opiniones portentosas jam turn inter eos qui nomen Christi deaerant, invaluisse? Quin ut ve- rum fatear, res ipsa docet nonnullos posterioris asvi acutius in enodandis Scripturis versatos ; et ut de nostra setate dicam, valde me posniteret Calvini vestri. ac BezaB si nihilo solidius sacras literas in- terpretarentur, quam video illos ipsos, quos tu mihi obducis, fecisse. P. 183. He lamented the fatal swerving from Protestantism into which reverence for antiquity was leading his friend Grotius : for- tassis et antiquitatis veneratio, quae gravibus qui- busdam Pontificiorum erroribus praluxit, ultra lin- eatn eum perduxit, p. 277 (1642) ; and in answer to Mersenne, who seems to have had some hopes of his conversion, and recommended him to the con- troversy of Grotius with Rivet, he plainly replies, that the former had extenuated some things in the Church of Rome which ought to be altered, p. 258. This he frequently laments in the course of his let- ters, but treats him with gentleness in comparison with some of the sterner Socinians, It is remark- able, that even he and Crellius seem to have exclu- ded the members of the Church of Rome, except the " vulgus ineruditum et Cassandri gregales," from salvation ; and this while almost all churches were anathematizing themselves in the same way. Ruar , Epist., p. 9 and p. 167. This book contains two centuries of epistles, the aries of Grotius on the Scriptures have been also charged with Socinianism ; but he pleaded that his interpretations were those of the fathers. 41. Two questions of great importance, which had been raised in the Erastianism preceding century, became still more interesting in the present, on ac- count of the more frequent occasion that the force of circumstances gave for their investigation, and the greater names that were engaged in it. Both of these arose out of the national establishment of churches, and their consequent relation to the commonwealth. One regarded the power of the magistrate over the church he recognised ; the other involved the right of his subjects to dissent from it by non-conformity, or by a different mode of worship. 42. Erastus, by proposing to substitute for the ancient discipline of ec- maintained clesiastical censures, and espe- b y Hooker, cially for excommunication, a perpetual superintendence of the civil power over the faith and practice of the Church, had given name to a scheme generally denom- inated Erastianism, though in some re- spects far broader than anything he seems to have suggested. It was more elabo^ rately maintained by Hooker in his Ec- clesiastical Polity, and had been, in fact, that on which the English reformation under Henry was originally founded. But, as it was manifestly opposed to the ultra- montane pretensions of the See of Rome, and even to the more moderate theories of the Catholic Church being, of course, destructive of her independence so did it stand in equal contradiction to the Pres- byterian scheme of Scotland and of the United Provinces. In the latter andGro , ins country, the States of Holland had been favourable to the Arminians, so far, at least, as to repress any violence against them ; the clergy were exaspera- ted and intolerant ; and this raised the question of civil supremacy, in which second of which is said to be very scarce ; and 1 doubt whether many have read the first, which must excuse my quotations. The learning, sense, and integrity of Ruarus, as well as the high respect which Calixtus, Curcellaeus, and other groitt men felt for him, render the book of some interest. He tells us that while he was in England, about 1617, a professorship at Cambridge was offered to him, worth 1001. per annum, besides as much more from private pupils, p. 71. But he probably mistook the civil speeches of individuals for an offer : he was not eminent enough for such a proposal on the part of the University ; and, at least, he must have been silent about his Socinianism. The morality of the early Socinians was very strict, and even ascetic ; proofs of which appear in these letters, p. 306, et alibi. 46 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Grotius, by one of his early works, enti- tled Pietas Ordinum Hollandiae, published in 1613, sustained the right of the magis- trate to inhibit dangerous controversies. 43. He returned, after the lapse of some His Treatise Y ears ' to tne same theme, in a on Kcciesias- larger and more comprehensive ticai Power WO rk, De Imperio Summarunf ' Potestatum circa Sacra. It is written upon the Anglican principles of regal supremacy, which had, however, become far less popular with the rulers of our Church than in the days of Cranmer, Whitgift, and Hooker. After stating the question, and proving the ecclesiastical power of the magistrate by natural law, Scripture, established usage, agreement of heathen and Christian writers, and the reason of the thing, he distinguishes con- trol over sacred offices from their exer- cise, and proceeds to inquire whether the magistrate may take the latter on himself; which, though practised in the early ages of the world, he finds inconvenient at present, the manners required for the re- gal and sacerdotal character being wholly different.* 44. Actions may be prescribed or for- bidden by natural divine law, positive di- vine law, or human law ; the latter ex- tending to nothing but what is left indefi- nite by the other two. But, though we are bound not to act in obedience to hu- man laws which contradict the divine, we are also bound not forcibly to resist them. We may defend ourselves by force against an equal, not against a superior, as he proves first from the Digest, and secondly from the New Testament.! Thus the rule of passive obedience is unequivocally laid down. He meets the recent exam- ples of resistance to sovereigns by say- ing that they cannot be approved where the kings have had an absolute power ; but where they are bound by compact, or the authority of a senate or of estates, since their power is not unlimited, they may be resisted on just grounds by that au- thority.J " Which I remark," he proceeds to say, " lest any one, as I sometimes have known, should disgrace a good cause by a mistaken defence." 45. The magistrate can alter nothing which is definitely laid down by the posi- tive law of God ; but he may regulate the circumstantial observance even of such ; * Cap. 4. t Cap. 3. t Sin alicubi regcs tales fuere, qui pactis sive positivis legibus et senatus alicujus aut ordinum decretis adstringerentur, in hos, ut summum impe- rium non obtinent, arma ex optimatum tanquam Buperiorum sententia sumi justis de causis potue- runt. Ibid. and as to things undefined in Scripture, he has plenary jurisdiction ; such as the temporalities of the Church, the convoca- tion of synods, the election of pastors. The burden of proof lies on those who would limit the civil power by affirming anything to be prescribed by the divine law.* The authority attributed in Scrip- ture to churches does not interfere with the power of the magistrate, being per- suasive, and not coercive. The whole Church has no coercive power by divine right. f But, since the visible Church is a society of divine institution, it follows that whatever is naturally competent to a lawful society, is competent also to the Church, unless it can be proved to be withdrawn from it.J ' It has, therefore, a legislative government (regimen constitu- tivum), of which he gives the institution of the Lord's day as an example. But this does not impair the sovereign's au- thority in ecclesiastical matters. In treat- ing of that supremacy, he does not clearly show what jurisdiction he attributes to the magistrate ; most of his instances re- lating to the temporalities of the Church, as to which no question is likely to arise. fy But, on the whole, he means undoubtedly to carry the supremacy as far as is done in England. 46. In a chapter on the due exercise of the civil supremacy over the Church, he shows more of a Protestant feeling than would have been found in him when he approached the latter years of his life ;|| and declares fully against submission to any visible authority in matters of faith, so that sovereigns are not bound to follow the ministers of the Church in what they may affirm as doctrine. Ecclesiastical synods he deems often useful, but thinks the magistrate is not bound to act with their consent, and that they are some- times pernicious. ^f The magistrate may determine who shall compose such syn- ods ;** a strong position, which he endeav- ours to prove at great length. Even if the members are elected by the Church, the magistrate may reject those whom ho * Ibid. t Cap. 4. $ Quandoquidem ecclcsia coetus est divina lego non permissus tantum sed et institutus, de aspecta- bili coetu loquor, sequitur en oinnia quos ccetibus legitimis naturaliter competunt, etiam ecclesiae competere, quatenus adempta non probantur. Ib. <<> Cap. 5. || Cap. 6. He states the question to be this : An post apostolorum setatem aut persona aut ccetus sit aliquis aspectabilis, de qna quove certi esse possi- mus ac debeamus, qufficunque ab ipsis proponantur, esse indubitatse ventatis. Negant hoc Evangelici; aiunt Romanenses. 1T Cap. 7. ** Designare e is, qui ad synodum sunt venturL FROM 1600 TO 1650. 47 reckons unfit ; he may preside in the as- sembly, confirm, reject, annul its decis- ions. He may also legislate about the whole organization of the established Church.* It is for him to determine what form of religion shall be publicly exer- cised ; an essential right of sovereignty, as political writers have laid it down. And this is confirmed by experience ; "for if any one shall ask why the Roman reli- gion flourished in England under Mary, the Protestant under Elizabeth, no cause can be assigned but the pleasure of these queens, or, as some might say, of the queens and parliaments." In this manner Grotius disposes of a great question of casuistry by what has been done ; as if murder and adultery might not be estab- lished by the same logic. Natural law would be resolved into history were we always to argue in a similar way. But this, as will appear more fully hereafter", is not the usual reasoning of Grotius. To the objection from the danger of abuse in conceding so much power to the sovereign, he replies that no other theory will secure us better. On every supposi- tion, the power must be lodged in men, who are all liable to error. We must con- pole ourselves by a trust in Divine Provi- dence alone. f 47. The sovereign may abolish false re- ligions and punish their professors, which no one else can. Here again we find precedents instead of arguments ; but he says that the primitive Church disapproved of capital punishments for heresy, which seems to be his main reason for doing the same. The sovereign may also enjoin si- lence in controversies, and inspect the con- duct of the clergy without limiting himself by the canons, though he will do well to regard them. Legislation and jurisdiction, that is, of a coercive nature, do not belong to the Church, except as they may be con- ceded to it by the civil power.J He fully explains the various kinds of ecclesiasti- cal law that have been gradually introdu- ced. Even the power of the keys, which is by divine right, cannot be so exercised as to exclude the appellant jurisdiction of the sovereign ; as he proves by the Ro- man law, and by the usage of the Parlia- ment of Paris. * Cap. 8. Nulla in re magis elucescit vis suinmi imperil, quam quod in ejus arbitrio est quaenam re- ligip public^ exerceatur, idque praecipuum inter majestatis jura ponunt pmnes qui politick scripse- runt. Docet idem experientia ; si enim quseras cur in Anglia Maria regnante Romana religio, Eliza- hetha vero imperante, Evangelica vigtierit, causa proxima re ofProphe- derived from the Arminian di- sying. vines, as it was in them from Erasmus and Acontiiis, that the funda- mental truths of Christianity are com- prised in narrow compass, not beyond the Apostles' Creed in its literal meaning; that all the rest is matter of disputation, and too uncertain, for the most part, to warrant our condemning those who differ from us, as if their error must be criminal. This one proposition, much expanded, ac- cording to Taylor's diffuse style, and dis- played in a variety of language, pervades the whole treatise ; a small part of which, in comparison to the rest, bears immedi- ately on the point of political toleration, as a duty of civil governments and of churches invested with power. In the greater portion, Taylor is rather arguing against that dogmatism of judgment which induces men, either singly or collectively, to pronounce with confidence where only a varying probability can be attained. This spirit is the religious, though not en- tirely the political, motive of intolerance ; and, by chasing this from the heart, he in- ferred, not that he should lay wide the door to universal freedom, but dispose the ma- gistrate to consider more equitably the claims of every sect. "Whatsoever is against the foundation of faith, or contrary to good life and the laws of obedience, or destructive to human society, and the pub- lic and just interests of bodies politic, is out of the limits of my question, and does not pretend to compliance or toleration ; so that I allow no indiffcrency, nor any countenance to those religions whose prin- ciples destroy government, nor to those religions, if there be any such, that teach ill life." 54. No man, as Taylor here teaches, is Boldness of under any obligation to believe his doctrines, that in revelation which is not so revealed, but that wise men and good men have differed in their opinions about it. And the great variety of opinions in churches, and even in the same church, " there being none that is in prosperi- ty," as he with rather a startling boldness puts it, "but changes her doctrines ev- ery age, either by bringing in new doc- trines, or contradicting her old," shows that we can have no term of union but that wherein all agree, the creed of the apostles.* And hence, though we may 1 Since no churches believe themselves infalli- ble, that only excepted which all other churches VOL. II. G undoubtedly carry on our own private in- quiries as much farther as we see reason, none who hold this fundamental faith are to be esteemed heretics, nor liable to pun- ishment. And here he proceeds to re- prove all those oblique acts which are not direct persecutions of men's persons, the destruction of books, the forbidding the publication of new ones, the setting out fraudulent editions and similar acts of falsehood, by which men endeavour to sti- fle or prevent religious inquiry. " It is a strange industry and an importune dili- gence that was used by our forefathers ; of all those heresies which gave them bat- tle and employment, we have absolutely no record or monument but what them- selves, who are adversaries, have trans- mitted to us ; and we know that adversa- ries, especially such who observed all op- portunities to discredit both the persons and doctrines of the enemy, are not al- ways the best records or witnesses of such transactions. We see it now in this very age, in the present distemperatures, that parties are no good registers of. the actions of the adverse side ; and if we can- not be confident of the truth of a story now, now 1 say that it is possible for any man, and likely that the interested adver- sary will discover the imposture, it is far more unlikely that after ages should know any other truth but such as serves the ends of the represcnters."* 55. None were accounted heretics by the primitive Church who held Hig notions by the Apostles' Creed, till the of uncertain- Council of Nice defined some tv '" llieo '- ., . . , ., . , _, gical tenets. things, rightly indeed, as Tay- lor professes to believe, but perhaps with too much alteration of the simplicity of ancient faith, so that " he had need be a subtle man who understands the very words of the new determinations." And this was carried much farther by later councils, and in the Athanasian Creed, of which, though protesting his own persua- sion in its truth, he intimates not a little disapprobation. The necessary articles of faith are laid down clearly in Scripture ; but no man can be secure, as to myste- rious points, that he shall certainly under- stand and believe them in their true sense. This he shows first from the great dis- crepancy of reading in manuscripts (an ar- say is most of all deceived, it were strange if, in so many articles which make up their several bodies of confessions, they had not mistaken, every one of them, in some thin? or other." This is Taylor'8 fearless mode of grappling with his argument ; and any other must give a church that claims infalli- bility the advantage. * Vol. vii., p. 424, Heber's edition of Taylor. 50 LITERATURE OF EUROPE gument which he overstates in a very un- critical and incautious manner) ; next from the different senses the words will bear, which there is no certain mark to distin- guish, the infinite variety of human under- standings, swayed, it may be, by interest, or determined by accidental and extrinsi- cal circumstances, and the fallibility of those means by which men hope to at- tain a clear knowledge of scriptural truth. And after exposing, certainly with no ex- tenuation, the difficulties of interpretation, he concludes that, since these ordinary means of expounding Scripture are very dubious, " he that is the wisest, and, by consequence, the likeliest to expound tru- est, in all probability of reason, will be very far from confidence ; and, therefore, a wise man would not willingly be pre- scribed to by others ; and if he be also a just man, he will not impose upon others ; for it is best every man should be left in that liberty, from which no man can just- ly take him, unless he could secure him from error ; so here there is a necessity to conserve the liberty of prophesying and in- terpreting Scripture ; a necessity derived from the consideration of the difficulty of Scripture in questions controverted, and the uncertainty of any internal medium of interpretation. 56. Taylor would in much of this have Hisiowopin- found an echo in the advocates ion of the fa- of the Church of Rome, and in some Protestants of his own communion. But he passes onward to as- sail their bulwarks. Tradition, or the tes- timony of the Church, he holds insufficient and uncertain, for the reasons urged more fully by Daille ; the authority of councils is almost equally precarious, from their inconsistency, their liability to factious passions, and the doubtful authenticity of some of their acts ; the pope's claim to infallibility is combated on the usual grounds ; the judgment of the fathers is shown to be inconclusive by their differ- ences among themselves, and their fre- quent errors ; and, professing a desire that " their great reputation should be preserv- ed as sacred as it ought," he refers the reader to Daille for other things ; and " shall only consider that the writings of the fathers have been so corrupted by the intermixture of heretics, so many false books put forth in their names, so many of the writings lost which would more clearly have explicated their sense, "and at last an open profession made, and a trade of making the fathers speak, not what themselves thought, but what other men pleased, that it is a great instance of God's providence and care of his Church that we have so much good preserved in the writings which we receive from the fathers, and that all truth is not as clear gone- as is the certainty of their great au- thority and reputation."* 57. The authority of the Church cannot be any longer alleged, when nei- Difficulty ther that of popes and councils of finding nor of ancient fathers is maintain- Ol able ; since the diffusive Church has no other means of speaking, nor can we dis- tinguish by any extrinsic test the greater or better portion of it from the worse. And thus, after dismissing respectfully the pretences of some to expound Scripture by the Spirit as impertinent to the ques- tion of dictating the faith of others, he comes to the reason of each man as the best judge, for himself, of religious contro- versies ; reason, that may be exercised ei- ther in choosing a guide if it feel its own incompetency, or in examining the grounds of belief. The latter has great advan- tages, and no man is bound to know any- thing of that concerning which he is not able to judge for himself. But reason may err, as he goes on to prove, without being culpable ; that which is plain to one un- derstanding being obscure to another ; and among various sources of error which he enumerates as incidental to mankind, that of education being " so great and in- vincible a prejudice, that he who masters the inconvenience of it is more to be com- mended than he can justly be blamed that complies with it." And thus not only sin- gle men, but whole bodies, take unhesita- tingly and unanimously opposite sides from those who have imbibed another kind of instruction ; and " it is strange that all the D.ominicans should be of one opin- ion in the matter of predestination and im- maculate conception, and all the Francis- cans of the quite contrary 7 , as if their un- derstandings were formed in a different mould, and furnished with various princi- ples by their very rule." These and the like prejudices are not absolute excuses * It seems not quite easy to reconcile this with what Taylor has just before said of his desire to pre- serve the reputation of the fathers sacred. In no writer is it more necessary to observe the animus with which he writes ; for, giving way to his im- petuosity, when he has said anything that would give offence, or which he thought incautious, it was not his custom, so far as we can judge, to expunge or soften it, but to insert something else of an op- posite colour, without taking any pains to harmo- nize his context. He probably revised hardly at all what he had written before it went to the press. This makes it easy to quote passages, especially short ones, from Taylor, which do not exhibit his real way of thinking; if, indeed, his way of thinking itself did not vary with the wind that blew from different regions of controversy. FROM 1600 TO 1650. to every one, and are often accompanied with culpable dispositions of mind ; but the impossibility of judging others ren- ders it incumbent on us to be lenient to- wards all, and neither to be. peremptory in denying that those who differ from us have used the best means in their power to dis- cover the truth, nor to charge their per- sons, whatever we may their opinions, with odious consequences which they do not avow. 58. This diffuse and not very well ar- Grounds of ranged vindication of diversity of toleration, judgment in religion, comprised in the first twelve sections of the Liberty of Prophesying, is the proper basis of the second part, which maintains the justice of toleration as a consequence of the for- mer principle. The general arguments or prejudices on which punishment for reli- gious tenets had been sustained, turned on their criminality in the eyes of God, and the duty of the magistrates to sustain God's honour and to guard his own subjects from sfn. Taylor, not denying that certain and knoAvn idolatry, or any sort of practical impiety, may be punished corporeally, be- cause it is matter of fact, asserts that no matter of mere opinion, no errors that of themselves are not sins, are to be perse- cuted or punished by death or corporeal in- fliction. He returns to his favourite posi- tion, that " we are not sure not to be de- ceived ;" mingling this, in that inconse- quent allocation of his proofs which fre- quently occurs in his writings, with other arguments of a different nature. The governors of the Church, indeed, may con- demn and restrain, as far as their power extends, any false doctrines which en- courages evil life, or destroys the founda- tions of religion ; but if the Church med- dles farther with any matters of question which have not this tendency, so as to dictate what men are to believe, she be- comes tyrannical and uncharitable ; the Apostles' Creed being sufficient to con- serve the peace of the Church and the uni- ty of her doctrine. And, with respect to the civil magistrate, he concludes that he is bound to suffer the profession of differ- ent opinions, which are neither directly impious and immoral, nor disturb the pub- lic peace. 59. The seventeenth chapter, in which inconsistency Taylor professes to consider of one chapter, which among the sects of Christendom are to be tolerated, and in what degree, is written in a tone not easily reconciled with that of the rest. Though he begins by saying that diversity of opin- ions does more concern public peace than religion, it certainly appears in some pas- sages that, on this pretext of peace, which with the magistrate has generally been of more influence than that of orthodoxy, he withdraws a great deal of that liberty of prophesying which he has been so broad- ly asserting. Punishment for religious tenets is doubtless not at all the same as restraint of separate worship ; yet we are not prepared for the shackles he seems in- clined to throw over the latter. Laws of ecclesiastical discipline, which, in Tay- lor's age, were understood to be binding on the whole community, cannot, he holds, be infringed by those who take occasion to disagree, without rendering authority contemptible ; and if there are any as zealous for obedience to the Church, as others may be for their opinions against it, the toleration of the latter's disobe- dience may give offence to the former : an argument strange enough in this treatise ! But Taylor is always more prone to ac- cumulate reasons than to sift their effi- ciency. It is, indeed, he thinks, worthy to be considered in framing a law of church discipline, whether it will be disliked by any who are to obey it ; but, after it is once enacted, there seems no farther in- dulgence practicable than what the gov- ernors of the Church may grant to partic- ular persons by dispensation. The laws of discipline are for the public good, and must not so far tolerate a violation of themselves as to destroy the good that the public ought to derive from them.* 6.0. I am inclined to suspect that Tay- lor, for some cause, interpolated His general this chapter after the rest of the defence of treatise was complete. It has toleration - as little bearing upon, and is as inconsist- ent in spirit with, the following sections as with those that precede. To use a fa- miliar illustration, the effect it produces on the reader's mind is like that of com- ing on deck at sea, and finding that, the ship having put about, the whole line of coast is reversed to the eye. Taylor, however, makes but a short tack. In the next section he resumes the bold tone of an advocate for freedom ; and, after dis- cussing at great length the leading tenet of the Anabaptists, concludes that, resting as it does on such plausible though insuf- * This single chapter is of itself conclusive against the truth of Taylor's own allegation that he wrote his Liberty of Prophesying in order to pro- cure toleration for the Episcopal Church of Eng- land at the hands of those who had overthrown it. No one ever dreamed of refusing freedom of opin- ion to that church : it was only about public wor- ship that any difficulty could arise. But, in truth, there is not one word in the whole treatise which could have been written with the view that Taylor pretends. 52 LITERATURE OF EUROPE ficient grounds, we cannot exclude it by any means from toleration, though they may be restrained from preaching their other notions of the unlawfulness of war, or of oaths, or of capital punishment ; it being certain that no good religion teaches doctrines whose consequences would de- stroy all government. A more remarka- ble chapter is that in which Taylor con- cludes in favour of tolerating the Roman- ists, except when they assert the pope's power of deposing princes or of dispen- sing with oaths. The result of all, he says, is this : " Let the prince and the sec- ular power have a care the commonwealth be safe. For whether such or such a sect of Christians be to be permitted, is a question rather political than religious." 61. In the concluding sections he main- tains Ihe right of particular churches to admit all who profess the Apostles' Creed to their communion, and of private men to communicate with different churches, if they require no unlawful condition. But " few churches, that have framed bodies of confession and articles, will endure any person that is not of the same confession ; which is a plain demonstration that such bodies of confession and articles do much hurt." " The guilt of schism may lie on him who least thinks it ; he being rather the schismatic who makes unnecessary and inconvenient impositions than he who disobeys them, because he cannot do oth- erwise without violating his conscience."* The whole treatise on the Liberty of Prophesying ends with the celebrated par- able of Abraham, found, as Taylor says, "in the Jews' books," but really in an Arabian writer. This story Franklin, as every one now knows, rather unhand- somely appropriated to himself; and it is a strange proof of the ignorance as to our earlier literature which then prevailed, that for many years it continued to be quoted with his name. It was not contained in the first editions of the Liberty of Proph- esying ; and, indeed, the book from which Taylor is supposed to have borrowed it was not published till 1651. 62. Such is this great pleading for reli- gious moderation ; a production not more remarkable in itself than for the quarter from which it came. In the polemical writings of Jeremy Taylor we generally find a stanch and uncompromising adhe- rence to one party ; and from the abundant use he makes of authority, we should in- fer that he felt a great veneration for it. 'This is said also by Hales, in his tract on Schism, which was published some years before the Liberty of Prophesying. It is, however, what l aylor would have thought without a prompter. In the Liberty of Prophesying, as has ap- peared by the general sketch, rather than analysis, we have just given, there is a prevailing tinge of the contrary turn of mind, more striking than the comparison of insulated passages can be. From what motives, and under what circumstances this treatise was written, is not easily dis- cerned. In the dedication to Lord Hatton of the collective edition of his controver- sial writings after the Restoration, he de- clares that " when a persecution did arise against the Church of England, he intend- ed to make a reservative for his brethren and himself, by pleading for a liberty to our consciences to persevere in that pro- fession which was warranted by all the laws of God and our superiors/' It is with regret we are compelled to confess some want of ingenuousness in this part of Taylor's proceedings. No one reading the Liberty of Prophesying can perceive- that it had the slightest bearing on any toleration that the Episcopal Church, in the time of the Civil War, might ask of her victorious enemies. The differences be- tween them were not on speculative points of faith, nor turning on an appeal to fa- thers and councils. That Taylor had an- other class of controversies in his mind is sufficiently obvious to the attentive reader, and T can give no proof in this place to any other. 63. This was the third blow that the new latitudinarian school of Effect of thia Leyden had aimed in England tr(;atite at the positive dogmatists, who, in all the Reformed Churches, as in that of Rome, laboured to impose extensive confessions of faith, abounding in inferences of scho- lastic theology, as conditions of exterior communion, and as peremptory articles of faith. Chillingworlh and Hales were not less decisive ; but the former had but in an incidental manner glanced at the sub- ject, and the short tract on Schism had been rather deficient in proof of its hardy paradoxes. Taylor, therefore, may be said to have been the first who sapped and shook the foundations of dogmatism and pretended orthodoxy ; the first who taught men to seek peace in unity of spirit rather than of belief ; and, instead of extinguish- ing dissent, to take away its sting by charity, and by a sense of human fallibili- ty. The mind, thus freed from bigotry, is best prepared for the public toleration of differences in religion ; but certainly the despotic and jealous temper of govern- ments is not so well combated by Taylor as by later advocates of religious freedom. 64. In conducting his argument, he falla not unfrequently into his usual fault. En- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 53 its defects, dowed with a miud of prodigious fertility, which a vast erudition rendered more luxuriant, he accumulates without selection whatever presents itself to his mind ; his innumerable quotations, his multiplied reasonings, his prodigality of epithets and appositions, are poured along the interminable periods of his wri- tings with a frequency of repetition, some- times of the same phrases, which leaves us to suspect that he revised but little what he had very rapidly composed. Cer- tain it is that, in his different works, he does not quite adhere to himself; and it would be more desirable to lay this on the partial views that haste and impetuosity produce, than on a deliberate employment of what he knew to be insufficient reason- ing. But I must acknowledge that Tay- lor's fairness does not seem his character istic quality. 65. In some passages of the Liberty of Prophesying, he seems to exaggerate the causes of uncertainty, and to take away from ecclesiastical antiquity even that moderate probability of truth which a dis- passionate inquirer may sometimes assign to it. His suspicions of spuriousntfss and interpolation are too vaguely skeptical, and come ill from one who has no sort of hesitation, in some of his controversies, to allege as authority what he here sets aside with little ceremony. Thus, in the Defence of Episcopacy, published in 1642, he maintains the authenticity of the first fifty of the apostolic canons, all of which, in the Liberty of Prophesying, a very few years afterward, he indiscriminately re- jects. But this line of criticism was not then in so advanced a state as at present ; and, from a credulous admission of every- thing, the learned had come sometimes to more sweeping charges of interpolation and forgery than would be sustained on a more searching investigation. Taylor's language is so unguarded that he seems to leave the authenticity of all the fathers precarious. Doubtless there is a greater want of security as to books written be- fore the invention of printing than we are apt to conceive, especially where inde- pendent manuscripts have not been found ; but it is the business of a sagacious criti- cism, by the aid of internal or collateral evidence, to distinguish, not dogmatically, as most are wont, but with a rational though limited assent, the genuine re- mains of ancient writers from the incrus- tations of blundering or of imposture. 66. A prodigious reach of learning dis- Createrum- tinguishes the theologians of tion of tms these fifty years, far greater than even in the sixteenth century ; and also, if I am not mistaken, more criti- cal and pointed, though in these latter qual- ities it was afterward surpassed. And in this erudition the Protestant churches, we may perhaps say, were, upon the whole, more abundant than that of Rome. But it would be unprofitable to enumerate works which we are incompetent to appreciate. Blondel, Daille, and Salmasius on the Con- tinent, Usher in England, are the most conspicuous names. Blondel sustained the equality of the apostolic Church both against the primacy of Rome and the episcopacy for which the Anglicans con- tended ; Salmasius and Daille fought on the same side in that controversy. The writings of our Irish primate, usher. Usher, who maintained the anti- 1'utavms. quity of his order, but not upon such high ground as many in England would have desired, are known for their extraordinary learning, in which he has, perhaps, never been surpassed by an English writer. But for judgment and calm appreciation of evidence, the name of Usher has not been altogether so much respected by posterity as it was by his contemporaries. The Church of Rome had its champions of less eminent renown : Gretser, perhaps the first among them, is not very familiar to our ears ; but it is to be remembered that some of the writings of Bellarmin fall within this period. The Dogmata Theo- logica of the Jesuit Petavius, though but a compilation from the fathers and an- cient councils, and not peculiarly directed against the tenets of the reformed, may deserve mention as a monument of useful labour. * Labbe, Sirmond, and several oth- ers appear to range more naturally under the class of historical than theological writers. In mere ecclesiastical history the records of events rather than opinions this period was far more critical than the preceding. The annals of Baronius were abridged and continued by Spondanus. 67. A numerous list of writers in sacred criticism might easily be produ- g ac red crit- ced. Among the Romanists, >>. Cornelius a Lapide has been extolled above the rest by his fellow-Jesuit An- dres. His Commentaries, published from 1617 to 1642, are reckoned by others too diffuse ; but he seems to have a fair repu- tation with Protestant critics. f The Lu- therans extol Gerhard, and especially * The Dogmata Theologica is not a complete work ; it extends only as far as the head of free- will. It belongs to the class of Loci Communes. Morhof, ii.,539. t Andres. Blount. Simon, however, says he is full of an erudition not to the purpose, which, as his Commentaries on the Scriptures run to twelve volumes, is not wonderful. 54 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Glass, author of the Philologia Sacra, in hermeneutical theology. Rivet was the highest name among the Calvinists. Ar- minius, Episcopius, the Fratres Poloni, and, indeed, almost every one who had to defend a cause, found no course so ready, at least among Protestants, as to explain the Scriptures consistently with his own tenets. Two natives of Holland, opposite in character, in spirit, and principles of reasoning, and, consequently, the found- ers of opposite schools of disciples, stand Grotius. out from the rest Grotius and coccejus. Coccejus. Luther, Calvin, and the generality of Protestant interpreters in the sixteenth century had, in most in- stances, rejected, with some contempt, the allegorical and multifarious senses of Scripture which had been introduced by the fathers, and had prevailed through the dark ages of the Church. This adherence to the literal meaning was doubtless pro- moted by the tenet they all professed, the facility of understanding Scripture. That which was designed for the simple and il- literate was not to require a key to any esoteric sense. Grotius, however, in his Annotations on the Old and New Testa- ments, published in 1633 the most re- markable book of this kind that had ap- peared, and which has had a more durable reputation than any, perhaps, of its pre- cursorscarried the system of literal in- terpretation still farther, bringing great stores of illustrative learning from profane antiquity, but merely to elucidate the pri- mary meaning, according to ordinary rules of criticism. Coccejus followed a wholly opposite course. Every passage, in his method, teemed with hidden senses ; the narratives, least capable of any ulterior application, were converted into typical allusions, so that the Old Testament be- came throughout an enigmatical repre- sentation of the New. He was also re- markable for having viewed, more than any preceding writer, all the relations be- tween God and man under the form of covenants, and introduced the technical language of jurisprudence into theology. This became a very usual mode of treat- ing the subject in Holland, and afterward in England. The Coccejans were numer- ous in the United Provinces, though not, perhaps, fleemed quite so orthodox as their adversaries, who, from Gisbert Voet, a theologian of the most inflexible and po- lemical spirit, were denominated Voetians. Their disputes began a little before the middle of the century, and lasted till near- ly its close.* The Summa Doctrinse of * Eichhorn. vi.. nt. i., D. 264. Mosheim. Coccejus appeared in 1648, and the Dis- sertationes Theologicae of Voet in 1649. 68. England gradually took a prominent share in this branch of sacred English com- literature. Among the divines mediators, of this period, comprehending the reigns of James and Charles, we may mention Usher, Gataker, Mede, Lightfoot, Jackson, Field, and Leigh.* Gataker stood, per- haps, next to Usher in general erudition. The fame of Mede has rested, for the most part, on his interpretations of the Apocalypse. This book had been little commented upon by the reformers ; but, in the beginning of the seventeenth cen- tury, several wild schemes of its applica- tion to present or expected events had been broached in Germany. England had also taken an active part, if it be true, what Grotius tells us, that eighty books on the prophecies had been published here before 1640. f Those of Mede have been received with favour by later interpreters. Lightfoot, with extensive knowledge of the rabbinical writers, poured his copious stores on Jewish antiquities, preceded in this by a more obscure labourer in that region, A ins worth. Jackson had a con- siderable name, but is little read, I sup- pose, in the present age. Field on the Church has been much praised by Cole- ridge ; it is, as it seemed to me, a more temperate work in ecclesiastical theory than some have represented it to be, and written almost wholly against Rome. Leigh's Critica Sacra can hardly be reck- oned, nor does it claim to be, more than a compilation from earlier theologians : it is an alphabetical series of words from the Hebrew and Greek Testaments, the au- thor candidly admitting that he was not very conversant with the latter language. 69. The style of preaching before the Reformation had been often little style of else than buffoonery, and seldom preaching, respectable. The German sermons of Tauler, in the fourteenth century, are alone remembered. For the most part, * " All confess," says Selden, in the Table-talk, there never was a more learned clergy : no man taxes them with ignorance." In another place, in- deed, he is represented to say, " The Jesuits and the lawyers of France, and the Low Countrymen have engrossed all learning; dico. Mors quoquerei unius si nativitas est multa- rum rerum, mala non est. Moritur panis manduca- tus, ut fiat sanguis, et sanguis moritur, ut in carnem nervos et ossa vertatur ac vivat ; neque tamen hoc universe displicet animali, quamvis partibus mors ipsa, hoc est, transmutatio dolorifica sit, displiceat- que. Ita utilis est mundo transmutatio eorum par- ticularium noxia displicensque illis. Totus homo compositus est ex morte ac vita partialibus, quae in- tegrant vitam humanam. Sic mundus totus ex mortibus ac vitabus compositus est, quae totius vitam efficiunt Philosop. Realis, c. 10. J'Sentiant alia magis, alia minus, prout magis minusque opus habent, et me imitentur is essendo. Ibidem ament omnia vivere in proprio esse pnecog- nito ut bono, ne corruat factura mea. Id., c. 10 FROM 1600 TO 1650. in the divine ideas ; they have also a more glorious light than their own, through which they are elevated to a supernatural beatific vision.* We can hardly read this without recollecting the most sublime pas- sage, perhaps, in Shakspeare : " Sit, Jessica ; look how the vault of heaven Is thick iriiayed with palms of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st, But in its motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim ; Such harmony is in immortal souls. But while this muddy vesture of decay Does grossly close us in, we cannot hear it."f 12. The world is full of living spirits, he proceeds ; and when the soul shall be delivered from this dark cavern, we shall behold their subtle essences. But now we cannot discern the forms of the air, and the winds as thsy rush by us ; much less the angels and daemons who people them. Miserable as we are, we recognise no other sensation than that which we ob- serve in animals and plants, slow and half extinguished, and buried under a weight that oppresses it. We will not understand that all our actions, and appetites, and mo- tions, and powers flow from heaven. Look at the manner in which light is diffused over the earth, penetrating every part of it with endless variety of operation, which we must believe that it does not perform without exquisite pleasure. J And hence there is no vacuum in nature, except by violent means ; since all bodies delight in mutual contact, and the world no more desires to be rent in its parts than an ani- mal. 13. It is almost a descent in Campanel- la from these visions of the separate sen- sibility of nature in each particle, when he * Animae beatas habitantes sic vivas lucidasque mansiones, res naturales vident omnes clivinasque ideas, habent quoque lumen gloriosius quo elevan- tur ad visionem supernaturalem beatificam, et ve- luti apud nos luces plurima; sese mutuo tangunt, intersecant, decussant, sentiuntque, ita in crelo luces distinguuntur, uniuntur, sentiunt. De Sensu Kerum, 1. iii, c. 4. f Merchant of Venice, Act v. j Praetervolant in conspectu nostro venti et aer, at nihil eos videmus.multo minus videmus Angelos Dffimonasque, quorum plenus est mundus. Infeli'ces qui sensum alium nullum agnoscimns, nisi obtusum animalium plantarumque, tardum, de- inortuum aggravatum ; sepultutn: nee quidem in- telligere volumus omnem actionem nostrarn et ap- petitum et sensum et motum et vim a ccelo manare. JEccelux quanto acutissimoexpanditur sensu super terram, quo multiplicatur, generatur, amplificatur, idque non sine magna efficere voluptate existiman- da est, 1. iii., c. 5. Campanella used to hear, as he tells us, whenever any evil was impending, a voice calling him by his name, sometimes with other words; he doubted whether this were his proper daemon or the air itself speaking. It is not wonderful that his imagination was affected by length of confinement. seizes hold of some physical fact or anal- ogy to establish a subordinate and less paradoxical part of his theory. He was much pleased with Gilbert's treatise on the magait, and thought it, of course, a proof of the animation of the earth. The world is an animal, he says, sentient as a whole, and enjoying life in all its parts.* It is not surprising that he ascribes intel- ligence to plants ; but he here remarks that we find the male and female sexes in them, and that the latter cannot fructify without the former. This is manifest in siliquose plants and in palms (which on this account he calls in another place the wiser plants, plantac sapientiores), in which the two kinds incline towards each other for the purpose of fructification. f 14. Campanella, when he uttered from his Neapolitan prison these dul- IIig work8 cet sounds of fantasy, had the published by advantage of rinding a pious dis- Adaml - ciple who spread them over other parts of Europe. This was Tobias Adami, initia- ted, as he tells us, in the same mysteries as himself (nostrae philosophise symmys- ta), who dedicated to the philosophers of Germany his own Prodromus Philoso- phic Instauratio, prefixed to his edition of Campanella's Compendium de Rerum Natura, published at Frankfort in 1617. Most of the other writings of the master seem to have preceded this edition; for Adami enumerates them in his Prodro- mus. Campanella did not fully obtain his liberty till 16-29, and died some years af- terward in France, where he had experi- enced the kindness of Peiresc, and the patronage of Richelieu. His philosophy made no very deep impression ; it was too fanciful, too arbitrary, too much tinctured with marks of an imagination rendered morbid by solitude to gain many prose- lytes in an age that was advancing in se- vere science. Gassendi, whose good-na- ture led him to receive Campanella, op- pressed by poverty and ill usage, with ev- ery courteous attention, was of all men the last to be seduced by his theories. No one, probably, since Campanella, aspiring to be reckoned among philosophers, has ventured to assert so much on matters of high, speculative importance, and to prove so little. Yet he seems worthy of the no- * Mundum esse animal, toturn sentiens, omnes- que portiones ejus communi gaudere vita, 1. i., c. 9. t Inveniernus in plantis sexum masculinum et fosmininum, ut in animalibus, et foeminam non fruo- tificare sine masculi congressu. Hoc patet in sili- quis et in palrnis, quarum mas fceminaque inclinan tur mutuo alter in alterum et sese osculaiitur, et fcemina impregnatur, nee fructificat sine mare; immo cpnspicitur dolens, squalida mortuaque, et pulvere illius et odore reviviscit. 64 LITERATURE OF EUROPE tice we have taken of him, if it were only as the last of the mere dogmatists in phi- losophy. He is doubtless much superior to Jordano Bruno, and I should presume, except in mathematics, to Cardan.* 15. A less important adversary of the established theory in physics was n- Sabastian Basson, in his "Philo- sophise Naturalis adversus Aristotelem li- bri XII., in quibus abstrusa veterum phys- iologia restauratur, et Aristotelis errores solidis rationibus refelluntur. Genevas, 1621." This book shows great animosity against Aristotle, to whom, as Lord Bacon has himself insinuated, he allows only the credit of having preserved fragments of the older philosophers, like pearls in mud. It is difficult to give an account of this long work. In some places we perceive signs of a just philosophy ; but, in general, his explanations of physical phenomena seem as bad as those of his opponents, and he displays no acquaintance with the writings and the discoveries of his great contemporaries. We find also some geo- metrical paradoxes ; and, in treating of as- tronomy, he writes as if he had never heard of the Copernican system. 16. Claude Berigard, born at Moulins, Bernard became professor of natural philos- ' ophy at Pisa and Padua. In his Circuli Pisani, published in 1643, he at- tempted to revive, as it is commonly said, the Ionic or corpuscular philosophy of Anaxagoras, in opposition to the Aristo- telian. The book is rare; but Brucker, who had seen it, seems to have satisfac- torily repelled the charge of atheism brought by some against Berigard. f An- other Frenchman domiciled in Italy, Mag- Magnen. ttcn '. trod nearlv the same path as Berigard, professing, however, to follow the modification of the corpuscular theory introduced by Democritus.J It seems to bs observable as to these wri- ters, Basson and the others, that, coming with no sufficient knowledge of what had recently been discovered in mathematical and experimental science, and following the bad methods of the universities, even when they deviated from their usual doc- trines, dogmatizing and asserting when they should have proved, arguing synthet- ically from axioms, and never ascending from particular facts, they could do little Brucker (vol. v., p. 106-144) has given a labo- rious analysis of the philosophy of Campanella Bnicker, iv., 460. Niceron, xxxi., where he is inserted by the name of Beauregard, which is prob- ably more correct, but against usage, t Bnicker (p. 504) tninks that Magnen rnisun- irstood the atomic theory of Democritus, and sub- tituted one quite different in his Democritus revi- viscens, published in 1646. good to philosophy, except by Contribu- ting, so far as they might be said to have had any influence, to shake the authority of 'Aristotle. 17. This authority, which at least re- quired but the deference of mod- Paracelsist9 est reason to one of the greatest of mankind, was ill exchanged, in any part of science, for the unintelligible dreams of the school of Paracelsus, which had many disciples in Germany, and a very few in England. Germany, indeed, has been the native soil of mysticism in Europe. The tendency to reflex observa- tion of the mind, characteristic of that people, has exempted them from much gross error, and given them insight into many depths of truth, but at the expense of some confusion, some liability to self- deceit, and to some want of strictness in metaphysical reasoning. It was accom- panied by a profound sense of the pres-- ence of Deity ; yet one which, acting on their thoughtful spirits, became rather an impression than an intellectual act, and settled into a mysterious indefinite theop- athy, when it did not even evaporate in pantheism. 18. The founder, perhaps, of this sect was Tauler of Strasburg, in the and Theos- fourteenth century, whose ser- ophists. mons in the native language, which, how- ever, are supposed to have been transla- ted from Latin, are full of what many have called by the vague word mysticism, an intense aspiration for the union of the soul with God. An anonymous work generally entitled The German Theology, written in the fifteenth century, pursues the same track of devotional thought. It was a favourite book with Luther, and was translated into Latin by Castalio.* These, indeed, are to be considered chiefly as theological ; but. the study of them led readily to a state of mental emotion, wherein a dogmatic pseudo-philosophy, like that of Paracelsus, abounding with assertions that imposed on the imagina- tion, and appealing frequently both to scriptural authority and the evidence of inward light, was sure to be favourably received. The mystics, therefore, and the theosophists belonged to the same class, and it is not uncommon to use the names indifferently. 19. It may appear not here required to dwell on a subject scarcely falling under any province of literary histo- F ry, but two writers within this period have been sufficiently distinguished to deserve * Episcopius places the author of the Theologia Germanica.with Henry Nicolas and David George among mere enthusiasts. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 65 mention. One of these was Robert Fludd, an English physician, who died in 1637 ; a man of indefatigable diligence in collect- ing the dreams and follies of past ages, blending them in a portentous combina- tion with new fancies of his own. The Rabbinical and Cabalistic authors, as well as the Paracelsists, the writers on magic, and whatever was most worthy to be re- jected and forgotten, form the basis of his creed. Among his numerous works, the most known was his " Mosaic Philoso- phy," in which, like many before his time as well as since, he endeavoured to build a scheme of physical philosophy on the first chapters in Genesis. I do not know whether he found there his two grand principles or forces of nature ; a northern force of condensation, and a southern force of dilatation. These seem to be the Par- menidian cold and heat, expressed in a jargon affected in order to make dupes. In peopling the universe with dsemons, and in ascribing all phsenomena to their invisible agency, he pursued the steps of Agrippa and Paracelsus, or, rather, of the whole school of fanatics and impostors called magical. He took also from older writers the doctrine of a constant analogy between universal nature, or the macro- cosm, and that of man, or the microcosm ; so that what was known in one might lead us to what was unknown in the other.* Fludd possessed, however, some acquaint- ance with science, especially in chymis- try and mechanics ; and his rhapsodies were so far from being universally con- temned in his own age, that Gassendi thought it not unworthy of him to enter into a prolix confutation of the Fluddian philosophy.f 20. Jacob Behmen, or, rather, Boehm, Jacob Beh- a shoemaker of Gorlitz, is far men. more generally familiar to our ears than his contemporary Fludd. He was, however, much inferior to him in reading, and, in fact, seems to have read little but the Bible and the writings of Paracelsus. He recounts the visions and ecstasies during which a supernatural il- lumination had been conveyed to him. It came, indeed, without the gift of transfer- ring the light to others ; for scarce any have been able to pierce the clouds in which his meaning has been charitably presumed to lie hid. The chief work of 1 This was a favourite doctrine of Paracelsus. Campanella was much too fanciful not to embrace it. Mundus, he says, habet spiritum quid est coe- luin, crassum corpus quod est terra, sangtiinem qui est mare. Homo igitur compendium epilogusque mundi est. De Seiisu Rerum, 1. ii., c. 32. t Brucker. iv., 691. Buhle, iii., 157. VOL. II. I Behmen is his Aurora, written about 1612, and containing a record of the visions wherein the mysteries of nature were re- vealed toJftm. It was not published till 1641. Hens said to have been a man of great goodness of heart, which his wri- tings display ; but in literature, this can- not give a sanction to the incoherences of madness. His language, as far as I have seen any extracts from his works, is coloured with the phraseology of the al- chymists and astrologers ; as for his phi- losophy, so to style it, we find, according to Brucker, who has taken some pains with the subject, manifest traces of the system of emanation, so ancient and so attract- ive ; and from this and several other rea- sons, he is inclined to think the unlearned shoemaker of Gorlitz must have had as- sistance from men of more education in developing his visions.* But the emana- tive theory is one into which a mind ab- sorbed in contemplation may very natu- rally fall. Behmen had his disciples, which such enthusiasts rarely want ; and his name is sufficiently known to justify the mention of it even in philosophical history. 21. We come now to an English writer of a different class, little known i, or d Herbert as such at present, but who, Ue Veriiate. without doing much good for the advance- ment of metaphysical philosophy, had at least the merit of devoting to it, with a sincere and independent spirit, the leisure of high rank, and of a life not obscure in the world Lord Herbert of Cherbury. The principal work of this remarkable man is his Latin treatise, published in 1624, " On Truth as it is distinguished from Revelation, from Probability, from Possibility, and from Falsehood." Its ob- ject is to inquire what are the sure means of discerning and discovering truth. This, as, like other authors, he sets out by pro- claiming, had been hitherto done by no one, and he treats both ancient and mod- ern philosophers rather haughtily, as being men tied to particular opinions, from which they dare not depart. " It is not from a hypocritical or mercenary writer that we are to look for perfect truth. Their in- terest is not to lay aside their mask, or think for themselves. A liberal and inde- pendent author alone will do this."f So general an invective after Lord Bacon, and, indeed, after others, like Campanella, * Brucker, iv., 698. t Non est igitur a larvato aliquo ve. stipendioso scriptore ut verurn consummatum opperiaris : Illo- rum apprime interest ne personam deponant, vel al- iter quidem sentiant. Ingenuus et sui arbitrii ista solurnmodo praestabit auctor. Epist. ad Lectorem. LITERATURE OF EUROPE who could not oe charged with following any conceits rather than their own, be- speaks either ignorance of philosophical literature, or a supercilious negtect of it. 22. Lord Herbert lays down Ifcven pri- mary axioms. 1. Truth exists: His axioms. Q I( . ig coeva i w j t h the things to which it relates : 3. It exists everywhere : 4. It is self-evident :* 5. There are as many truths as there are differences in things : 6. These differences are made known to us by our natural faculties : 7. There is a truth belonging to these truths : "Est veritas quaedam harum veritatum." This axiom he explains as obscurely as it is strangely expressed. All truth he then distinguishes into the truth of the thing or object, the truth of the appearance, the truth of, the perception, and the truth of the understanding. The truth of the ob- ject is the inherent conformity of the ob- ject with itself, or that which makes eve- rything what it is.f The truth of appear- ance is the conditional conformity of the appearance with the object. The truth of perception is the conditional conformity of our senses (facultates nostras prodro- mas) with the appearances of things. The truth of understanding is the due conform- ity between the aforesaid conformities. All truth, therefore, is conformity, all con- formity relation. Three things are to be observed in every inquiry after truth : the thing or object, the sense or faculty, and the laws or conditions by which its con- formity or relation is determined. Lord Herbert is so obscure, partly by not thor- oughly grasping his subject, partly by writing in Latin, partly perhaps by the " sphalmata et errata in typographo, quae- dam fortasse in seipso,'" 1 of which he com- plains at the end, that it has been neces- sary to omit several sentences as unintel- ligible, though what I have just given is far enough from being too clear: 23. Truth, he goes on to say, exists as Conditions to the object or outward thing it- of tru-h. se if; W h en our f acu ities are capa- ble of determining everything concerning it ; but, though this definition is exact, it is doubtful whether any such truth exists in nature. The first condition of discern- ing truth in things is that they should have a relation to ourselves (ut intra nos- tram stet anategiam) ; since multitudes of * Hasc veritas est in se manifesta. He observes that what are called false appearances are true as such, though not true according to the reality of the object : sua veritas apparently falsae inest, vero enim ita apparebit, vera tamep ex veritate rei non cnt, t Inhsrens ilia conformitas rei cum seipsa, sive ilia ratio, ex qua rei unaquaeque sibi constat. things may exist which the sense cannot discover. The three chief conditions of this condition seem to be : 1. That it should be of a proper size, neither im- mense, nor too small ; 2. That it should have its determining difference, or princi- ple of individuation, to distinguish it from other things ; 3. That it should be accom- modated to some sense or perceptive facul- ty. These are the universally necessary conditions of truth (that is, of knowledge) as it regards the object. The truth of appearance depends on others, which are more particular; as that the object should be perceived for a sufficient time, through a proper medium, at a due distance, in a proper situation.* Truth of perception is conditional also, and its conditions are, that the sense should be sound, and the attention directed towards it. Truth of understanding depends on the Koivat evvoim, the common notions possessed by every man of sane mind, and implanted by na- ture. The understanding teaches us, by means of these, that infinity and eternity exist, though our senses cannot perceive them. The understanding deals also with universals, and truth is known as to uni- versals when the particulars are rightly apprehended. 24. Our faculties are as numerous a? the differences of things ; and instinctive thus it is that the world corre- t"" 1 ' 8 - sponds by perfect analogy to the human soul, degrees of perception being as much distinct from one another as different modes of it. All our powers may, howev- er, be reduced to four heads : natural in stinct, internal perception, external sensa- tion, and reason. What is not known by one of these four means cannot be known at all. Instinctive truths are proved by universal consent. Here he comes to hii general basis of religion, maintaining the existence of KOIVOI evvoiai, or common no tions of mankind on that subject, princi pies against which no one can dispute without violating the laws of his nature. f Natural instinct he defines to be an act of those faculties existing in every man of sane mind, by which the common notions as to the relations of things not perceived by the senses (rerum internarum), and es- * Lord Herbert defines appearance, icetypum, seu forma vicaria rei, qua? sub conditionibus istis cum prototype suoconformata, cumconceptudenuo sub conditionibus etiam suis, conformari et modo quodam spiritual}, tanquam ab objecto decisa, etiam in objecti absentia conserved potest. t Principia ilia sacrosancta, contra quae disputare nefas, p. 44. I have translated this in the best sense I could give it ; but to use fas or nefas before we have defined their meaning or proved their ex- istence, is but indifferent logic. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 67 pecially such as tend to the conservation of the individual, of the species, and of the whole, are formed without any process of reasoning. These common notions, though excited in us by the objects of sense, are not conveyed to us by them ; they are implanted in us by nature, so that God seems to have imparted to us not only a part of his image, but of his wis- dom,* And whatever is understood and perceived by all men alike, deserves to be accounted one of these notions. Some of them are instinctive, others are deduced from such as are. The former are dis- tinguishable by six marks : priority, inde- pendence, universality, certainty, so that no man can doubt them without putting off, as it were, his nature ; necessity, that is, usefulness for the preservation of man ; lastly, intuitive apprehension, for these common notions do not require to be in- ferred.f 25. Internal perceptions denote the con- intcmaiper- formity of objects with those ceptions. faculties existing in every man of sane mind, which, being developed by his natural instinct, are conversant with the internal relations of things, in a sec- ondary and particular manner, and by means of natural instinct.^ By this ill- worded definition he probably intends to distinguish the general power, or instinct- ive knowledge, from its exercise and ap- plication in any instance. But I have found it very difficult to follow Lord Her- bert. It is by means, he says, of these internal senses that we discern the nature of things in their intrinsic relations, or hidden types of being. And it is neces- sary well to distinguish the conforming faculty in the mind, or internal perception, from the bodily sense. The cloudiness of his expression increases as we pro- ceed, and in many pages I cannot venture to translate or abridge it. The injudi- cious use of a language in which he did not write with facility, and which is not very well adapted, at the best, to meta- physical disquisition, has doubtless in- creased the perplexity into which he has thrown his readers. 26. In the conclusion of this treatise, Five notions Herbert lays down the five com- of natural mon notions of natural religion, religion. implanted, as he conceives, in * P. 48. f P. 60. t Sensus interni sunt actus cqnformitatum pb- jectorum cum facultatibus illis in omni homine sano et integro existentibus, quae ab instinctu nat- ural! expositae, circa analogiam rerum internam, particulariter, secondario, et ratione instinctus nat- uralis versantur, p. 66. () Circa analogiam rerum internarn, sive signatu- ras ct characteras rerum penitiores versantur, p. 68. the breasts of all mankind. 1. That there is- a God : 2. That he ought to be wor- shipped : 3. That virtue and piety are the chief parts of worship : 4. That we are to repent and turn from our sins : 5. That there are rewards and punishments in an- other life.* Nothing can be admitted in religion which contradicts these primary notions ; but if any one has a revelation from Heaven in addition to these, which may happen to him sleeping or waking, he should keep it to himself, since no- thing can be of importance to the human race which is not established by the evi- dence of their common faculties. Nor can anything be known to be revealed which is not revealed to ourselves ; all else being tradition and historic testimo- ny, which does not amount to knowledge. The specific difference of man from other animals he makes not reason, but the ca- pacity of religion. It is a curious coinci- dence, that John Wesley has said some- thing of the same kind.f It is also re- markable that we find in another work of Lord Herbert, De Religione Gentilium, which dwells again on his five articles of natural religion, essential, as he expressly lays it down, to salvation, the same illus- tration of the being of a Deity from the analogy of a watch or clock, which Paley has since employed. I believe that it oc- curs in an intermediate writer.! 27. Lord Herbert sent a copy of his treatise De Veritate, several R emar it 8 of years after its publication, to Gassendion Gassendi. We have a letter to Herbert - the noble author in the third volume of the works of that philosopher, showing, in the candid and sincere spirit natural to him, the objections that struck his mind in reading the book. Gassendi observes that the distinctions of four kinds of truth are not new ; the veritas rei of Lord Her- bert being what is usually called sub- stance ; his veritas apparentiae no more than accident; and the other two being only sense and reason. Gassendi seems * P. 222. t I have somewhere read a profound remark of Wesley, that, considering the sagacity which many animals display, we cannot fix upon reason as the distinction between them and man : the true differ ence is, that we are formed to know God, and they are not. $ Et quidem si horologium per diem et noctem integram horas signanter indicans, viderit quispiam non mente captus, id consilio arteque summa fac- tum judicaverit. Ecquis non plane demens, qui hanc mundi machinam non per viginti quatuor ho- ras tantum, sed per tot sajcula circuitus suos obe- untem animadverterit, non id omne sapientissimo utique potentissimoque alicui autori tribuat? Da Relig. Gentil., cap. xiii. Gassendi, Opera, iii , 411. 68 LITERATURE OF EUKOPE not wholly to approve, but gives, as the best, a definition of truth little differing from Herbert's, the agreement of the cog- nizant intellect with the thing known : " Intellects cognoscentis cum re cognita congruentia." The obscurity of the trea- tise De Veritate could ill suit an under- standing like that of Gassendi, always tending to acquire clear conceptions ; and though he writes with great civility, it is not without smartly opposing what he does not approve. The aim of Lord Her- bert's work, he says, is that the intellect may pierce into the nature of things, knowing them as they are in themsejves, without the fallacies of appearance and sense. But for himself he confesses that such knowledge he has always found above him, and that he is in darkness when he attempts to investigate the real nature of the least thing ; making many of the observations on this which we read also in Locke. And he well says that we have enough for our use in the accidents or appearances of things without knowing their substances, in reply to Herbert, who had declared that we should be miserably deficient, if, while nature has given us senses to discern sounds and colours, and such fleeting qualities of things, we had no sure road to internal, eternal, and ne- cessary truths.* The universality of those innate principles, especially moral and re- ligious, on which his correspondent had built so much, is doubted by Gassendi on the usual grounds, that many have denied or been ignorant of them. The letter is imperfect, some sheets of the autograph having been lost. 28. Too much space may seem to have been bestowed on a writer who cannot be ranked high among metaphysicians. But Lord Herbert was not only a distinguish- ed name, but may claim the precedence among those philosophers in England. If his treatise De Veritate is not, as an en- tire work, very successful, or always found- ed upon principles which have stood the test of severe reflection, it is still a mon- ument of an original, independent thinker, without rhapsodies of imagination, with- out pedantic technicalities, arid, above all, bearing witness to a sincere love of the truth he sought to apprehend. The ambi- tious expectation that the real essences of things might be discovered, if it were truly his, as Gassendi seems to suppose, could not be warranted by anything, at * Misere nobiscum actum esset, si ad percipien- dos colores, sonos et qualitates caHeras caducas at- que momentaneas subessent media, nulla autem ad veritates illas internas, seternas, necessarias sine er- rore superesset via. least, within the knowledge of that age. But, from some expressions of Herbert, I should infer that he did not think our fac- ulties competent to solve the whole prob- lem of quiddity, as the logicians called it, or the real nature of anything, at least, objectively without us.* He is, indeed, so obscure, that I will not vouch for his entire consistency. It has been an addi- tional motive to say as much as I have done concerning Lord Herbert, that I know not where any account of his trea- tise De Veritate 'will be found. Brucker is strangely silent about this writer, and Buhle has merely adverted to the letter of Gassendi. Descartes has spoken of Lord Herbert's book with much respect, though several of their leading principles were far from the same. It was translated into French in 1639, and this translation he found less difficult than the original.! 29. Gassendi himself ought, perhaps, to be counted wholly among the phi- Gassendi's losophers of this period, since defence of many of his writings were pub- E P' curus - lished, and all may have been completed within it. They are contained in six large folio volumes, rather closely printed. The Exercitationes Paradoxica3, published in 1524, are the earliest. These contain an attack on the logic of Aristotle, the for- tress that so many bold spirits were eager to assail. But in more advanced life Gas- sendi withdrew, in great measure, from this warfare ; and his Logic, in the Syn- tagma Philosophicum, the record of his latest opinions, is chiefly modelled on the Aristotelian, with sufficient commendation of its author. In the study of ancient philosophy, however, Gassendi was im- pressed with an admiration of Epicurus. His physical theory, founded on corpus- cles and a vacuum ; his ethics, in their principles and precepts ; his rules of logic and guidance of the intellect, seemed to * Cum facultates nostrae ad analogiam propriam terminate quidditates rerum intimas non pene- trent : ideo quid res naturalis in seipsa sit, tali ex analogia ad nos ut sit constituta, perfecte sciri non potest, p. 165. Instead of sit, it might be better to read est. In another place, he says it is doubtful whether anything exists in nature concerning which we have a complete knowledge. The eternal and necessary truths which Herbert contends for our knowing, seem to have been his communes notitise, subjectively understood, rather than such as relate to external objects. t Descartes, vol. viii, p. 138 and 168. J'y trouv6 plusieurs choses fort bonnes, sed nonpublici saporis , car il y a peu de personnes qui soient capables d'en tendre la metaphysique. Et, pour le general du jivre, il tient un chemin fort different de celui qua j'ai suivi. . . . Enfin, par conclusion, encore que je ne puisse m'accorder en tout aux sentimens de cet auteur, je ne laisse pas de 1'estimer beaucoup au dessus de esprits ordinaires. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 69 trie cool and independent mind of the French philosopher more worthy of re- gard than the opposite schemes prevail- ing in the schools, and not to be rejected on account of any discredit attached to the name. Combining with the Epicu- rean physics and ethics the religious ele- ment which had been unnecessarily dis- carded from the philosophy of the Gar- den, Gassendi displayed both in a form no longer obnoxious. The Syntagma Philo- sophise Epicuri, published in 1649, is an elaborate vindication of this system, which he had previously expounded in a com- mentary on the tenth book of Diogenes Laertius. He had already effaced the prejudices against Epicurus himself, whom he seems to have regarded with the affec- tion of a disciple, in a biographical trea- tise on his life and moral character. 30. Gassendi died in 1656 ; the Syntag- His chief ma Philosophicum, his greatest works after as well as last work, in which 1650- it is natural to seek the whole scheme of his philosophy, was published by his friend Sorbiere in 1658. We may therefore properly defer the consideration of his metaphysical writings to the next period ; but the controversy in which he was involved with Descartes will render it necessary to bring his name forward igain before the close of this chapter. / SECTION II. On the Philosophy of Lord Bacon. 31. IT may be judged, from what has Preparation been said in the former volume, for the phi- as well as in our last pages, that, osophy of at the beginning of tne seven . teenth century, the higher philosophy, which is concerned with general truth, and the means of knowing it, had been little benefited by the labours of any mod- ern inquirer. It was become, indeed, no strange thing, at least out of the air of a college, to question the authority of Aris- totle ; but his disciples pointed with scorn at the endeavours which had as yet been made to supplant it, and asked whether the wisdom so long reverenced was to be set aside for the fanatical reveries of Par- acelsus, the unintelligible chimeras ' of Bruno, or the more plausible, but arbitra- ry hypotheses of Telesio. 32. Francis Bacon was born in 1561.* * Those who place Lord Bacon's birth in 1560, as Mr. Montagu has done, must be understood to fol- low the old style, which creates some confusion. He was born the 22d of January, and died the 9th > tp J, 1626, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, as He came to years of manhood , , . ,, ,. -v nil Lord Bacon at the time when England was rapidly emerging from ignorance and ob- solete methods of study, in an age of pow- erful minds, full himself of ambition, con- fidence, and energy. If we think on the public history of Bacon, even during the least public portion of it, philosophy must appear to have been but his amusement ; it was by his hours of leisure, by time hardly missed from the laborious study and practice of the law, and from the as- siduities of a courtier's life, that he became the father of modern science. This union of an active with a reflecting life had been the boast of some ancients, of Cicero and Antonine ; but what comparison, in depth and originality, between their philosophy and that of Bacon * 33. This wonderful man, in sweeping round the champaign of univer- His plan of sal science with his powerful ge- philosophy, nius, found as little to praise in the re- cent as in the ancient methods of investi- gating truth. He liked as little the em- pirical presumption of drawing conclusions from a partial experience as the sophisti- cal dogmatism which relied on unwarrant- ed axioms and verbal chicane. All, he thought, was to be constructed anew ; the investigation of facts, their arrangement for the purposes of inquiry, the process of eliciting from them the required truth. And for this he saw that, above all, a thorough purgation of the mind itself would be necessary, by pointing out its familiar errors, their sources, and their remedies. 34. It is not exactly known at what age Bacon first conceived the scheme Time of its of a comprehensive philosophy, conception. but it was, by his own account, very early in life.* Such noble ideas are most con- we are told in his life by Rawley, the best authority we have. * In a letter to Father Fulgentio, which bears no date in print, but must have been written about 1621, he refers to a juvenile work about forty years before, which he had confidently entitled The Greatest Birth of Time. Bacon says : Equidem memini me quadraginta abhinc annis juvenile opus- culum circa has res confecisse, quod magna pror- sus CHucia et magnifico titulo, " Temporis partum maximum" inscripsi. The apparent vainglory of this title is somewhat extenuated by the sense he gave to the phrase Birth of Time. He meant that the lapse of time and long experience were the nat- ural sources of a better philosophy, as he says in his dedication of the Instauratio Magna : Ipse certe, ut ingenue fateor, soleo sestimare hoc opus uiagis pro partu temporis quam ingenii. lllud enim in eo solummodo mirabile est.initia rei, et tantasde iis quse invaluerunt suspiciones, alicui in mentem venire potuisse. Cjetera non illibenter sequuntur. No treatise with this precise title appears. But we find prefixed to some of the short pieces a gen- eral title, Temporis Partus Masculus, sive Instau- 70 LITERATURE OF EUROPE genial to the sanguine spirit of youth, and to its ignorance of the extent of labour it undertakes. In the dedication of the No- vum Organum to James in 1620, he says that he had been about some such work near thirty years, "so as I made no haste." "And the reason," he adds, " why I have published it now, specially being imperfect, is, to speak plainly, be- cause I number my days, and would have it saved. There is another reason of my so doing, which is to try whether I can get help in one intended part of this work, namely, the compiling of a natural and experimental history, which must be the main foundation of a true and active phi- losophy." He may be presumed at least to have made a very considerable prog- ress in his undertaking before the close of the sixteenth century. But it was first promulgated to the world by the publica- tion of his Treatise on the Advancement of Learning in 1605. In this, indeed, the whole of the Baconian philosophy may be said to be implicitly contained, except, ratio Magna Imperil Universi in Humanum. These treatises, however, though earlier than his great works, cannot be referred to so juvenile a period as his letter to Fulgentio intimates ; and I should rath- er incline to suspect that the opusculum to which he there refers has not been preserved. Mr. Montagu is of a different opinion. See his Note I. to the Life of Bacon in vol. xvi. of his edition. The Latin tract De Interpretatione Naturae Mr. M. sup- poses to be the germe of the Instauratio, as the Cogitata et Visa are of the Novum Organum. I do not dissent from this ; but the former bears marks of having been written after Bacon had been immersed in active life. The most probable con- jecture appears to be, that he very early perceived the meagerness and imperfection of the academical course of philosophy, and of all others which fell in his way, and formed the scheme of affording something better from his own resources : but that he did not commit much to paper, nor had planned his own method till after he was turned of thirty, which his letter to the king intimates. In a recent and very brilliant sketch of the Ba- conian philosophy (Edinb. Review, July, 1837), the two leading principles that distinguish it through- out all its parts are justly denominated utility and progress. To do good to mankind, and do more and more good, are the ethics of its inductive method. We may only regret that the ingenious author of this article has been hurried sometimes into the low and contracted view of the deceitful word utility, which regards rather the enjoyments of physical convenience than the general well-being of the individual and the species. If Bacon looked more frequently to the former, it was because so large a portion of his writings relates to physical observation and experiment. But it was far enough from his design to set up physics in any sort of op- position to ethics, much less in a superior light. I dissent also from some of the observations in this article, lively as they are, which tend to depreciate ne originality and importance of the Baconian methods. The reader may turn to a note on this subject by Dugald Stewart, at the end of the pres- ent section. perhaps, the second book of the Novum Organum. In 1623 he published his more celebrated Latin translation of this work, if it is not rather to be deemed a new one, entitled De Augmentis Scientiarum. I find, upon comparison, that more than two thirds of this treatise are a version, with slight interpolation or omission, from the Advancement of Learning, the remainder being new matter. 35. The Instauratio Magna had been al- ready published in 1620, while Instauratio Lord Bacon was still chancellor. Magna. Fifteen years had elapsed since he gave to the world his Advancement of Learning, the first fruits of such astonishing vigour of philosophical genius, that, inconceiva- ble as the completion of the scheme he had even then laid down in prospect for his new philosophy by any single effort must appear, we may be disappointed at the deficiencies which this latter work ex- hibits, and which he was not destined to fill up. But he passed the interval in ac- tive life and in dangerous paths, desert- ing, as, in truth, he had all along been prone enough to do, the " shady spaces of philosophy," as Milton calls them, for the court of a sovereign, who, with some real learning, was totally incapable of sound- ing the depths of Lord Bacon's mind, or even of estimating his genius. 36. The Instauratio Magna, dedicated to James, is divided, according First n . to the magnificent groundplot Pamtiones' of its author, into six parts. Scientiarum. The first of these he entitles Partitiones Scientiarum, comprehending a general summary of that kind of knowledge which mankind already possess ; yet not merely treating this affirmatively, but taking spe- cial notice of whatever should seem de- ficient or imperfect ; sometimes even sup- plying, by illustration or precept, these vacant spaces of science. This ffrst part he declares to be wanting in the Instau- ratio. If. has been chiefly supplied by the treatise De Augmentis Scientiarum ; yet perhaps even that does not fully come up to the amplitude of his design. 36. The second part of the Instauratio was to be, as he expresses it, Secondpart: the science of a better and Novum Or- more perfect, use of reason in g anum - the investigation of things, and of the true aids of the understanding," the new logic or inductive method in which what is em- inently styled the Baconian philosophy consists. This, as far as he completed it, is Lnown to all by the name of the No- vum Organum. But he seems to have de- signed a fuller treatise in place of this ; the aphorisms into which he has digested FROM 1600 TO 1650. 71 it being rather the heads or theses of chapters, at least in many places, that would have been farther expanded.* And it is still more important to observe, that he did not achieve the whole of this sum- mary that he had promised ; but out of nine divisions of his method we only pos- sess the first, which he denominates prae- rogitivae instantiarum. Eight others, of exceeding importance in logic, he has not touched at all, except to describe them by name and to promise more. "We will speak," he says, " in the first place, of pre- rogative instances; secondly, of the aids of induction ; thirdly, of the rectification of induction ; fourthly, of varying the in- vestigation according to the nature of the subject ; fifthly, of prerogative natures (or objects) as to investigation, or the choice of what shall be first inquired into ; sixth- ly, of the boundaries of inquiry, or the synoptical view of all natures in the world ; seventhly, on the application of inquiry to practice, and what relates to man ; eighthly, on the preparations (paras- cevis) for inquiry; lastly, on the ascend- ing and descending scale of axioms."! All these, after the first, are wanting, with the exception of some slightly handled in sep- arate parts of Bacon's writings ; and the deficiency, which is so important, seems to have been sometimes overlooked by those who have written about the Novum Organum. 38. The third part of the Instauratio Third Part : Magna was to comprise an en- Naturaiiiis- tire natural history, diligently torv - and scrupulously collected from experience of every kind ; including un- der that name of natural history every- thing wherein the art of man has been employed on natural substances either for practice or experiment ; no method of reasoning being sufficient to guide us to truth as to natural things, if they are not themselves clearly and exactly apprehend- ed. It is unnecessary to observe that very little of this immense chart of nature could be traced by the hand of Bacon, or in his time. His Centuries of Natural History, containing about one thousand observed * It is entitled by himself, Partis secundae Sum- ma, digesta m aphorismos. t Dicemus itaque prirno loco de prserogativis in- stantiarum ; secundo, de adminiculis inductionis ; tertio, de rectificatione inductionis; quarto, de va- riatione inquisitionis pro natura subject! ; quinto, de praerogativis naturarumquatenus ad inquisitionem, sive de eo quod inquirendurn est prius est posteri- us ; sexto, de tenninisinquisitionis, sivede synopsi omnium naturarum in universo; septimo, de de- ductione ad praxin, sive de eoquod est in ordine ad hominem ; octavo, de parascevis ad inquisitionem ; postremo autem,de scala ascensoria et descensoria axiomatum, lib. ii., 22. facts and experiments, are a very slender contribution towards such a description of universal nature as he contemplated : these form no part of the Iiiltauratio Magna, and had been compiled before. But he enumerates one hundred and thir- ty particular histories which ought to be drawn up for his great work. A few of these he has given in a sort of skeleton, as samples rather of the method of col- lecting facts than of the facts themselves ; namely, the History of Winds, of Life and Death, of Density and Rarity, of Sound and Hearing. 39. The fourth 'part, called Scala Intel- lectus, is also wanting, with the F 0urt hparf exception of a very few intro- scala intei- dtictory pages. " By these ta- Iect0s - bles," says Bacon, " we mean not such examples as we subjoin to the several rules of our method, but types and mod- els, which place before our eyes the entire process of the mind in the discovery of truth, selecting various and remarkable in- stances."* These he compares to the di- agrams of geometry, by attending to which the steps of the demonstration become perspicuous. Though the great brevity of his language in this place renders it rather difficult to see clearly what he un- derstood by these models, some light ap- pears to be thrown on this passage by one in the treatise De Augmentis, where he enumerates among the desiderata of logic what he calls traditio lampadis, or a deliv- ery of any science or particular truth ac- cording to the order wherein it was dis- covered.! " The methods of geometers," * Neque de iis exemplis loquimur, quae singulis praeceptis ac regulis illustrandi gratia adjtciuntur hoc enim in secunda operis parte abunde praEstiti- mus, sed plane typos intelligimus ac plasmata, qua? universum mentis processum atque inveniendi con- tinuatatn fabricam et ordinem in certis subjectis, iisque variis et insignibus tanquam sub oculos po- nant. Etenim nobis venit in mentem inmathemat- icis, astante machina, sequi demonstrationem faci- lem et perspicuam ; contra absque hac commodi- tale omnia videri involuta et quam reverasunt sub- tiliora. ^ \ Lib. vi., cap. 2. Scientia qua? aliis tanquam tela pertexendo traditur, eadem methodo, si fieri possit, animo alterius est insinuanda qua primitua inventa est. Atque hoc ipsum fieri sane potest in scientia per inductionem acquisita : sed in antici- pata ista et pramatura scientia, qua utimur, non fa- cile dicat quis quo itinere adaeam quarn nactus est scientiam p'ervenerit. Attamen sane secundum ma- jus et minus possit quis scientiam propriam revi- sere, et vestigia sus cognitionis simul et consensus remetiri ; atque hoc facto scientiam sic transplari- tare in animum alienurn, sicut crevit in suo Cujus quidem generis traditipnis, methodus mathe- maticorum in eo subjecto similitudinem quandam habet. 1 do not well understand the words in eo subjecto ; he may possibly have referred to analyt ical processes. 72 LITERATURE OF EUROPE he there says, " have some resemblance to this art ;" which is not, however, the case as to the synthetical geometry with which we arf generally conversant. It is the history of analytical investigation, and many beautiful illustrations of it have been given since the days of Bacon in all subjects' to which that method of inquiry has been applied. 40. In a fifth part of the Instauratio art- M a S na Bacon had designed to Anticip" give a specimen of the new phi- tiones Phi- losophy which he hoped to raise losophias. after a due uge of his natura j his- tory and inductive method, by way of an- ticipation or sample of the whole. He calls it Prodromi, sive Anticipationes Phi- losophise Secundse. And some fragments of this part are published by the names Cogitata et Visa, Cogitationes de Natura Rerum, Filum Labyrinthi, and a few more, being as much, in all probability, as he had reduced to writing. In his own met- aphor, it was to be like the payment of in- terest till the principal could be raised ; tanquam frenus reddatur, donee sors ha- beri possit. For he despaired of ever sixth part : completing the work by a sixth Ptuiosophia and last portion, which was to Secunda. display a perfect system of phi- losophy, deduced and confirmed by a legit- imate, sober, and exact inquiry according to the method which he had invented and laid down. " To perfect, this last part is above our powers and beyond our hopes. We may, as we trust, make no despicable beginnings; the destinies of the human race must complete it; in such a manner, perhaps, as men, looking only at the pres- ent, would not readily conceive. For upon this will depend not only a speculative good, but all the fortunes of mankind, and all their power." And with an eloquent prayer that his exertions may be rendered effectual to the attainment of truth and happiness, this introductory chapter of the Instauratio, which announces the distribu- tion of its portions, concludes. Such was the temple- of which Bacon saw in vision before hirnlhe stately front and decorated pediments, in all their breadth of light and harmony of proportion, while long vistas of receding columns and glimpses of inter- nal splendour revealed a glory that it was not permitted him to comprehend. In the treatise De Augmentis Scientiarum, and in the Novum Organum, we have less, no doubt, than Lord Bacon, under different conditions of life, might have achieved ; he might have been more emphatically the high-priest of nature, if he had not been the chancellor of James I. ; but no one man could have filled up the vast outline which he alone, in that stage of the world, could have so boldly sketched. 41. The best order of studying the Ba- conian philosophy would be to course of read attentively the Advance- studying ment of Learning ; next, to take Lord E the treatise De Augmentis, comparing it all along with the former, and afterward to proceed to the Novum Organum. A less degree of regard has usually been paid to the Centuries of Natural History, which are the least important of his wri- tings, or even to the other philosophical fragments, some of which contain very excellent passages ; yet such, in great measure, as will be found substantially in other parts of his works. The most re- markable are the Cogitata et Visa. It must be said, that one who thoroughly venerates Lord Bacon will not disdain his repetitions, which sometimes, by varia- tions of phrase, throw light upon each other. It is generally supposed that the Latin works were translated by several assistants, among whom Herbert and Hobbes have been named, under the au- thor's superintendence.* The Latin style of these writings is singularly concise, en- ergetic, and impressive, but frequently crabbid, uncouth, and obscure ; so that we read with more admiration of the sense than delight in the manner of delivering it. But Rawley, in his Life of Bacon, informs us that he had seen about twelve auto- graphs of the Novum Organum, wrought up and improved year by year, till it reached the shape in which it was publish- ed ; and he does not intimate that these were in English, unless the praise he im- mediately afterward bestows on his Eng- lish style may be thought to warrant that supposition.! I do not know that we have evidence as to any of the Latin works being translations from English, except the treatise De Augmentis. * The translation was made, as Archbishop Ten- ison informs us, " by Mr. Herbert and some others, who were esteemed masters in the Roman elo- quence." t Ipse reperi in archivis dominationis suse, auto- grapha plus minus duodecim Organi Novi de anno in annum elaborati, et ad incudem revocati, et sin- gulis annis, ulteriore lima subinde politi et castigati, donee in illud tandem corpus adoleverat, quo in lu- cem editum fuit ; sicut multa ex animaiibus fetus lambere consuescunt usque quo ad membrorum fir- mitudinem eos perducant. In libris suis compo- nendis verborum vigorem et perspicuitatem prseci- pue sectabatur, non elegantiam aut concinnitatem sermonis, et inter scribendum aut dictandum saepe interrogavit, num sensus ejus clare admodum et perspicueredditusesset? Quippe qui sciret aBquurn esse nt verba famularentur rebus, non res verbis. Et si in stylum forsitan politiorem incidisset, siqui- dem apud nostrates eloquii Anglicani artifex habi- tus est, id evenil, quia evitare arduum ei erat. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 73 42. The leading principles of the Baco- nian philosophy are contained in the Ad- vancement of Learning. These are am- plified, corrected, illustrated, and devel- oped in the treatise De Augmentis Sci- entiarum, from the fifth book of which, with some help from other parts, is taken the first book of the Novum Organum, and even a part of the second. I use this phrase, because, though earlier in publi- cation, I conceive that the Novum Orga- num was later in composition. All that very important part of this fifth book which relates to Experientia Litterata, or Venatio Panis, as he calls it, and contains excel- lent rules for conducting experiments in natural philosophy, is new, and does not appear in the Advancement of Learning, except by way of promise of what should be done in it. Nor is this, at least so fully and clearly, to be found in the Novum Organum. The second book of this latter treatise he professes not to anticipate. De Novo Organo silemus, he says, neque de eo quicquam prrelibamus. This can only apply to the second book, which he considered as the real exposition of his method, after clearing away the fallacies which form the chief subject of the first. Yet what is said of Topica particularis, in this fifth book De Augmentis (illustrated by " articles of inquiry concerning gravity and levity"), goes entirely on the princi- ples of the second book of the Novum Organum. 43. Let us now see what Bacon's method Nature of the reall Y was - He has g iven il the Baconian in- name of induction, but carefully ducuon. distinguishes it from what bore that name in the old logic, that is, an in- ference from a perfect enumeration of particulars to a general law of the whole. For such an enumeration, though of course conclusive, is rarely practicable in nature, where the particulars exceed our powers of numbering.* Nor, again, is the Baconian * Induclio quae procedit per enumerationen sim- plicem, res puerilis est, et precario concludit, et periculo exponitur ab instantia contradictoria, et plerumque secundum pauciora quam par est, et ex liis tantummodo qua praesto sunt, pronuntiat. At inductio quae ad mventionem et demonstrationem scientiarum et artiuin erit utilis, naturam separare debet, per rejectiones et exclusiones debitas ; ac deinde post negativas tot quot sufficiunt, super af- firmativas concludere ; quod adhucfactum non est, nee tentatum certe, nisi tantummodo a Platone, qui ad excutiendas definitiones et ideas, hac certe forma inductionis aliquatenus utitur. Nov. Org., i., 105. In this passage Bacon seems to imply that the enumeration of particulars in any induction is or may be imperfect. This is certainly the case in the plurality of physical inductions ; but it does not appear that the logical writers looked upon this as the primary and legitimate sense. Induction was distinguished into the complete and incom- VOL. II. K method to be confounded with the less complete form of the inductive process, namely, inferences from partial experience in similar circumstances ; though this may be a very sufficient ground for practical, which is, probable knowledge. His own plete. "The word," says a very modern writer, " is perhaps unhappy, as indeed it is taken in sev- eral vague senses ; but to abolish it is impossible. It is the Latin translation of tmzyuiyij, which word is used by Aristotle as a counterpart lo a\i\\oyiajios. He seems to consider it in a perfect or dialectic, and in an imperfect or rhetorical sense. Thus, if a genus (G.) contained four species (A. 13. C. D.), syllogism would argue, that what is true of G. is true of any one of the four ; but perfect induction would reason, that what we can prove true of A. B. C. D. separ- ately, we may properly state as true of G., the whole genus. This is evidently a formal argument, as demonstrative as syllogism. But the imperfect or rhetorical induction will perhaps enumerate three only of the species, and then draw the con- clusion concerning G., which virtually includes the fourth ; or, what is the same thing, will argue, that what is true of the three is to be believed true like- wise of the fourth." Newman's Lectures on Logic, p. 73 (1837). The same distinction between per- fect and imperfect induction is made in the Ency- clopedic Francoise, art. Induction, and apparently on the authority of the ancients. It may be observed, that this imperfect induction may be put in a regular logical form, and is only vicious in syllogistic reasoning when the conclusion asserts a higher probability than the premises. If, for example, we reason thus : Some serpents are venomous. This unknown animal is a serpent Therefore this is venomous ; we are guilty of an obvious paralogism. If we infer only, This may be venomous, our reasoning is perfectly valid in itself, it least in the common apprehension of all man- kind, except dialecticians, but not regular in form. The only means that I perceive of making it so, is to put it in some such phrase as the following . All jnknown serpents are affected by a certain proba- bility of being venomous : This animal, &c. It is lot necessary, of course, that the probability should }e capable of being estimated, provided we men- ;ally conceive it to be no other in the conclusion ;han in the major term. In the best treatises on the strict or syllogistic method, as far as I have seen, there seems a deficiency in respect to probable conclusions, which may have arisen from the prac- tice of taking instances from universal or necessary, rather than contingent truths, as well as from the contracted views of reasoning which the Aristote- ian school have always inculcated. No sophisms are so frequent in practice as the concluding gen- erally from a partial induction, or assuming (most commonly tacitly) by what Archbishop Whateley calls " a kind of logical fiction," that a few individu- als are " adequate samples or representations of the class they belong to." These sophisms cannot, in the present state of things, be practised largely in physical science or natural history; but in reason- ng on matter of fact they are of incessant occur- ence. The " logical fiction" may indeed frequent- y be employed, even on subjects unconnected with the physical laws of nature; but to know when this may be, and to what extent, is just that which, far more than any other skill, distinguishes what is called a good reasoner from a bad one. This note will not, by an cttentive reader, be :hought inapposite to the text, or to some passages that will follow in the present chapter. 74 LITERATURE OF EUROPE method rests on the same general princi- ple, namely, the uniformity of the laws of nature, so that in certain conditions of phenomena the same effects or the same causes maybe assumed ; but it endeavour^ to establish these laws on a more exact and finer process of reasoning than partial experience can effect. For the recurrence of antecedents and consequents does not prove a necessary connexion ' between them, unless we can exclude the presence of all other conditions which may deter- mine the event. Long and continued ex- perience of such a recurrence, indeed, raises a high probability of a necessary connexion ; but the aim of Bacon was to supersede experience in this sense, and to find a shorter road to the result ; and for this his methods of exclusion are devised. As complete and accurate a collection of facts connected with the subject of in- quiry as possible, is to be made out by means of that copious natural history which he contemplated, or from any other good sources. These are to be selected, compared, and scrutinized, according to the rules of natural interpretation deliv- ered in the second book of the Novum Organum, or such others as he designed to add to them ; and if experiments are admissible, these are to be conducted ac- cording to the same rules. Experience and observation are the guides through the' Baconian philosophy, which is the hand- maid and interpreter of nature. When Lord Bacon seems to decry experience, which in certain passages he might be thought to do, it is the particular and em- pirical observation of individuals, from which many rash generalizations had been drawn, as opposed to that founded on an accurate natural history. Such hasty in- ferences he reckoned still more pernicious to true knowledge than the sophistical methods of the current philosophy ; and in a remarkable passage, after censuring this precipitancy of empirical conclusions in the chymists, and in Gilbert's Treatise on the Magnet, utters a prediction that, if ever mankind, excited by his counsels, should seriously betake themselves to seek the guidance of experience instead of relying on the dogmatic schools of the sophists, the proneness of the human mind to snatch at general axioms would expose them to much risk of error from the theories of this superficial class of philosophers.* 44. The indignation, however, of Lord Bacon is more frequently directed against * Nov. Organ., lib. i., 64. It may be doubted whether Bacon did full justice to Gilbert. the predominant philosophy of His his age, that of Aristotle and of Arisiotie. the schoolmen. Though he does justice to the great abilities of the former, and acknowledges the exact attention to facts displayed in his History of Animals, he deems him one of the most eminent ad- versaries to the only method that can guide us to the real laws of nature. The old Greek philosophers, Empedocles, Leu- cippus, Anaxagoras, and others of their age who had been in the right track of in- vestigation, stood much higher in his es- teem than their successors, Plato, Zeno, Aristotle, by whose lustre they had been so much superseded, that both their works have perished, and their tenets are with difficulty collected. These more distin- guished leaders of the Grecian schools were, in his eyes, little else than disputa- tious professors (it must be remembered that Bacon had, in general, only physical science in his view), who seemed to have it in common with children, " ut ad garri- endurn prompti sint, generare non pos- sint ;" so wordy and barren was their mi- called wisdom. 45. Those who object to the importance of Lord Bacon's precepts in phi- nj sme th- losophy that mankind have prac- od much tised many of them immemori- re i uired - ally, are rather confirming their utility than taking off much from their originali- ty in any fair sense of that term. Every logical method is built on the common faculties of human nature, which have been exercised since the creation in dis- cerning, better or worse, truth from false- hood, and inferring the unknown from the known. That men might have done this more correctly, is manifest from the quan- tity of error into which, from want of rea- soning well on what came before them, they have habitually fallen. In experi- mental philosophy, to which the more special rules of Lord Bacon are generally referred, there was a notorious want of that very process of reasoning which he has supplied. It is probable, indeed, that the great physical philosophers of the sev- enteenth century would have been led to employ some of his rules had he never promulgated them ; but I believe they had been little regarded in the earlier period of science.* It is also a very defective view of the Baconian method to look only at the experimental rules given in the No- vum Organum. The preparatory steps of * It has been remarked, that the famous experi ment of Pascal on the barometer, by carrying it to a considerable elevation, was " a crucial instance ; one of the first, if not the very first, on record in phys- ics." Herschel, p. 229. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 75 completely exhausting the natural history of the subject of inquiry by a patient and sagacious consideration of it in every light. are at least of equal importance, and equal- ly prominent in the inductive philosophy. 46. The first object of Lord Bacon's philosophical writings is to prove ' Jects ' their own necessity, by giving an unfavourable impression as to the actual state of most sciences, in consequence of the prejudices of the human mind, and of the mistaken methods pursued in their cultivation. The second was to point out a better prospect for the future. One of these occupies the treatise De Augmentis, and the first book of the Novum Organum. The other, besides many anticipations in these, is partially detailed in the second book, and would have been more thor- oughly developed in those remaining por- tions which the author did not complete. We shall now give a very short sketch of these two famous works, which comprise the greater part of the Baconian philoso- phy. 47. The Advancement of Learning is Sketch of the divided into two books only; treatise De the treatise De Augmentis into Augmentis. n j ne The firt Qf theS6) j n tne latter, is introductory, and designed to re- move prejudices against the search for truth by indicating the causes which had hitherto obstructed it. In the second book, he lays down his celebrated ory ' partition of human learning into history, poetry, and philosophy, according to the faculties of the mind respectively concerned in them, the memory, imagina- tion, and reason. History is natural or civil, under the latter of which ecclesias- tical and literary histories are comprised. These, again, fall into regular subdivisions ; all of which he treats in a summary man- ner, and points out the deficiencies which ought to be supplied in many departments of history. Poetry succeeds in the :try ' last chapter of the same book ; but by confining that name to fictitious narra- tive, except as to the ornaments of style, which he refers to a different part of his subject, he much limited his views of that literature ; even if it were true, as it cer- tainly is not, that the imagination alone, in any ordinary use of the word, is the medium of poetical emotion. The word emotion, indeed, is sufficient to show that Bacon should either have excluded poe- try altogether from his enumeration of sciences and learning, or taken into con- sideration other faculties of the soul than those which are merely intellectual. 48. Stewart has praised with justice a short but beautiful paragraph concerning poetry (under which title maybe Fine passage comprehended all the various n poetry. B creations of the faculty of imagination), wherein Bacon ." has exhausted every- thing that philosophy and good sense have yet had to offer on the subject of what has since been called the beau ideal." The same eminent writer and ardent admirer of Bacon observes that D'Alembert im- proved on the Baconian arrangement by classing the fine arts with poetry. Injus- tice had been done to painting and music, especially the former, when, in the fourth book De Augmentis, they were counted as mere " artes voluptariae," subordinate to a sort of Epicurean gratification of the senses, and only somewhat more liberal than cookery or cosmetics. 49. In the third book, science having been divided into theological and Natura i philosophical, and the former, or Theology what regards revealed religion, * n |J ^! et " being postponed for the present, ai he lays it down that all philosophy relates to God, to nature, or to man. Under nat- ural theology, as a sort of appendix, he reckons the doctrine of angels and super- human spirits ; a more favourite theme, especially as treated independently of rev- elation, in the ages that preceded Lord Bacon, than it has been since. Natural philosophy is speculative or practical ; the former divided into physics, in a particu- lar sense, and metaphysics ; " one of which inquireth and handleth the material and efficient causes ; the other handleth the formal and final causes." Hence physics dealing with particular instances, and re- garding only the effects produced, is pre- carious in its conclusions, and does not reach the stable principles of causation. Limus ut hie durescit, et haec nt cera liquescit Uno eodemque igni. Metaphysics, to which word he gave a sense as remote from that which it bore in the Aristotelian schools as from that in which it is commonly employed at pres- ent, had for its proper object the investi- gation of forms. It was " a generally re- ceived and inveterate opinion, that the in- quisition of man is not competent to find out essential forms or true differences." Formae inventio, he says in another place, habetur pro desperata. The word form itself, being borrowed from the old philos- ophy, is not immediately intelligible to every reader. " In the Baconian sense," says Playfair, " form differs only Form of from cause in being permanent, bodies whereas we apply cause to that which ex- ists in order of time." Form (natura na- turans, as it was barbarously called) is the 76 LITERATURE OF EUROPE general law or condition of existence in any substance or quality (natura naturata) which is wherever its form is.* The con- ditions of a mathematical figure, prescri- bed in its definition, might in this sense be called its form, if it did not seem to be Lord Bacon's intention to confine the word to the laws of particular sensible ex- istences. In modern philosophy, it might be defined to be that particular combina- tion of forces which impresses a certain modification upon matter subjected to their influence. 50. To a knowledge of such forms, or might some- laws of essence and existence, times be in- at least in a certain degree, it quired into. mjght be possible? j n Bacon's sanguine estimation of his own logic, for man to attain. Not that we could hope to understand the forms of complex beings, which are almost infinite in variety, but the simple and primary natures, which are combined in them. " To inquire the form of a lion, of an oak, of gold, nay. of water, of air, is a vain pursuit ; but to inquire the forms of sense, of voluntary motion, of vegetation, of colours, of gravity and lev- ity, of density and tenuity, of heat, of cold, and all other natures and qualities, which, like an alphabet, are not many, and of which the essences, upheld by matter, of all creatures do consist ; to inquire, I say, the true forms of these, is that part of me't- aphysic which we now define of."f Thus, in the words he soon afterward uses, " of natural philosophy,* the basis is natural history ; the stage next the basis is phys- ic ; the stage next the vertical point is metaphysic. As for the vertical point, ' Opus quod operatur Deus a principio us- que ad finem,' the summary law of nature, we know not whether man's inquiry can attain unto it."J 51. The second object of metaphysics, Final causes according to Lord Bacon's no- ^ on ^ tne wor d' was tne inves- tigation of final causes. It is * Licet enim in natura nihil vere existat prater corpora individua, edentia actus puros individuos ex iege, in doc.'inis tamen ilia ipsa lex, ejusqne in- quisitio, et inven'io atque explicatio pro fundamen- to est tam ad sciendum quam operandum. Earn autem legem ejusque paragraphos, Formfirum nom- ine intelligimus ; praesertim cum hoc vocabulum invaluerit et familiariter occurrat. Nov Org.,ii.,2. t In the Novum Organum he seems to 'have gone a little beyond this, and to have hoped that the form itself of concrete things might be known. Datae autem natura formam, sive differentiam ve- ram, sive naturam naturantern, sive fontem emana- tionis (ista enim vocabula habemus, quae ad indica- tionem rei proxime accedunt), invenire opus et in- tentio est Human* Scientioe. Lib. ii., 1. t Advancement of Leafcing, book ii. This sen- tence he has scarcely altered in the Latin. well known that he has spoken of this with unguarded disparagement.* " Like a vir- gin consecrated to God, it bears nothing ;" one of those witty conceits that sparkle over his writings, but will not bear a se- vere examination. It has been well re- marked, that almost at the moment he pub- lished this, one of the most important dis- coferies of his age, the circulation of the blood, had rewarded the acuteness of Har- vey in reasoning on the final cause of the valves in the veins. 52. 'Nature, or physical philosophy, ac- cording to Lord Bacon's parti- Man not jn . tion, did not comprehend the eluded by human species. Whether this ' > pny* be not more consonant to pop- ular language, adopted by preceding sys- tems of philosophy, than to a strict and perspicuous arrangement, may by some be doubted ; though a very respectable au- thority, that of Dugald Stewart, is opposed to including man in the province of phys- ics. For it is surely strange to separate the physiology of the human body, as quite a science of another class, from that of in- ferior animals ; and if we place this part of our being under the department of phys- ical philosohpy, we shall soon be embar- rassed by what Bacon has called the "doctrina de foedere," the science of the connexion between the soul of man and his bodily frame ; a vast and interesting field, even yet very imperfectly explored. 53. It has pleased, however, the author to follow his own arrangement. Man in body The fourth book relates to the and mind, constitution, bodily and mental, of man- kind. In this book he has introduced sev- eral subdivisions, which, considered mere- y as such, do not always appear the most Dhilosophical ; but the pregnancy and icuteness of his observations under each lead silences all criticism of this kind. This book has nearly double the extent of the corresponding pages in the Advance- ment of Learning. The doctrine as to the substance of the thinking principle having aeen very slightly touched, or, rather, mssed over, with two curious disquisitions on divination and fascination, he advances, n four ensuing books, to the intellectual and moral faculties, and those sciences which immediately depend upon them. * Causa finalis tantum abest ut prosit, ut etiam scientias corrumpat. nisi in hominis actionibus. ^ov. Org., ii., 2. It must be remembered that Ba- :on had good reason to deprecate the admixture of heological dogmas with philosophy, which had >een, and has often since been, the absolute perver- sion of all legitimate reasoning in science. See what Stewart has said upon Lord Bacon's objection to reasoning from final causes in physics. Philoso- >hy of the Active and Moral Powers, bk. iii., c. 2. s. 4. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 77 Logic and Ethics are the grand di- ^' visions, correlative to the reason and the will of man. Logic, according to Lord Bacon, comprises the sciences of invent- ing, judging, retaining, and delivering the conceptions of the mind. We invent, that is, discover new arts or new arguments ; we judge by induction or by syllogism ; the memory is capable of being aided by artificial methods. All these processes of the mind are the subjects of several sci- ences, which it was the peculiar aim of Bacon, by his own logic, to place on solid foundations. 54. It is here to be remarked, that the extent given sciences of logic and ethics, ac- it by Bacon, cording to the partitions of Lord Bacon, are far more extensive than we are accustomed to consider them. Whatever concerned the human intellect came under the first ; whatever related to the will and affections of the mind fell under the head of ethics. Logicade intellectu et ratione, ethica de voluntate appetitu et affectibus disserit ; altera decreta, altera actiories progignit. But it has been usual to con- fine logic to the methods of guiding the understanding in the search for truth ; and some, though, as it seems to me, in a man- ner not warranted by the best usage of philosophers,* have endeavoured to ex- clude everything but the syllogistic mode of reasoning from the logical province. Whether, again, the nature and operations of the human mind in general ought to be reckoned a part of physics, has already been mentioned as a disputable question. 55. The science of delivering our own Grammar and thoughts to others, branching Rhetoric. mto g rammar a nd rhetoric, and including poetry, so far as its proper ve- hicles, metre and diction, are concerned, occupies the sixth book. In all this he finds more desiderata than, from the great attention paid to these subjects by the an- cients, could have been expected. Thus his ingenious collection of antitheta, or commonplaces in rhetoric, though men- tioned by Cicero as to the judicial species of eloquence, is first extended by Bacon himself to deliberative or political ora- tions. I do not, however, think it prob- able that this branch of topics could have been neglected by antiquity, though the writings relating to it may not have de- scended to us ; nor can we by any means say there is nothing of the kind in Aris- totle's Rhetoric. Whether the utility of these commonplaces, when collected in books, be very great, is another question. * In altera philosophise parte, quae est miaerendi ac disserendi, quae \oymri dicitur. Cic., de Fin., i,, 14. And a similar doubt might be suggested with respect to the elenchs, or refuta- tions, of rhetorical sophisms, " colores boni et mali," which he reports as equally deficient, though a commencement had been made by Aristotle. 56. In the seventh book we come to ethical science. This he deems to E(hics have been insufficiently treated. He would have the different tempers and characters of mankind first considered; then their passions and affections (neither of which, as he justly observes, find a place in the Ethics of Aristotle, though they are sometimes treated, not so appo- sitely, in his Rhetoric) ; lastly, the methods of altering and affecting the will and ap- petite, such as custom, education, imita- tion, or society. " The main and primi- tive division of moral knowledge seemeth to be into the exemplar or platform of good, and the regiment or culture of the mind ; the one describing the nature of good, the other presenting rules how to subdue, apply, and accommodate the will of man thereunto." This latter he also calls " the Georgics of the mind." He seems to place " the platform or essence of good" in seeking the good of the whole rather than that of the individual, applying his to refute the ancient theories as to the summum bonum. But perhaps Ba- con had not thoroughly disentangled this question, and confounds, as is not unusual, the summum bonum, or personal felicity, with the object of moral action, or com- mune bonum. He is right, however, in pre- ferring, morally speaking, the active to the contemplative life against Aristotle and other philosophers. This part is translated in De Augmentis with little variation from the Advancement of Learn- ing ; as is also what follows on the Geor- gics, orculturc, of the mind. The philoso- phy of civil life, as it relates both to the conduct of men in their mutual intercourse, which is properly termed prudence, and to that higher prudence, which is concern- ed with the administration of communi- ties, fills up the chart of the Baconian ethics. In the eighth book, admirable re- flections on the former of these subjects occur at almost every sentence. Many, perhaps most of these, will be found in the Advancement of Learning. But in this he had been, for a reason sufficiently ob- vious and almost avowed, cautiously si- lent upon the art of government, the craft of his king. The motives for si- lence were still so powerful, that he treats only in the De Augmentis of two heads in political science ; the methods of enlarging the boundaries of a state, 78 LITERATURE OF EUROPE which James I. could hardly resent as an interference with his own monopoly, and one of far more importance to the well- being of mankind, the principles of univer- sal jurisprudence, or, rather, of universal legislation, according to which standard all laws ought to be framed. These he has sketched in ninety-seven aphorisms or short rules, which, from the great expe- rience of Bacon in the laws, as well as his peculiar vocation towards that part of philosophy, deserve to be studied at this day. Upon such topics, the progressive and innovating spirit of his genius was less likely to be perceived ; but he is, perhaps, equally free from what he has happily called in one of his essays, the " froward retention of custom," the prejudice of man- kind, like that of perverse children, against what is advised to them for their real good, and what they cannot deny to be conducive to it. This whole eighth book is pregnant with profound and original Theology thinking. The ninth and last, which is short, glances only at some desiderata in theological science, and is chiefly remarkable as it displays a more liberal and catholic spirit than was often to be met with in a period signalized by bigotry and ecclesiastical pride. But as the abjuration of human authority is the first principle of Lord Bacon's philosophy, and the preparation for his logic, it was not expedient to say too much of its use- fulness in theological pursuits. 57. At the conclusion of the whole, we Desiderata mav & n & a summary catalogue enumerated of the deficiencies which, in the by him. course of this ample review, Lord Bacon had found worthy of being supplied by patient and philosophical in- quiry. Of these desiderata, few, I fear, have since been filled up, at least in a col- lective and systematic manner, according to his suggestions. Great materials, use- ful intimations, and even partial delinea- tions, are certainly to be found, as to many of the rest, in the writings of those who have done honour to the last two centu- ries. But with all our pride in modern science, very much even of what, in Bacon's time, was perceived to be want- ing, remains for the diligence and sagacity of those who are yet to come. 58. The first book of the Novum Or- Novum ganum, if it is not better known Organum: than any other part of Bacon's wok. philosophical writings, has at least furnished more of those striking passages which shine in quotation. It is written in detached aphorisms ; the sentences, even where these aphorisms are longest, not flowing much into one another, so as to create a suspicion that he had formed adversaria, to which he committed his thoughts as they arose. It is full of repe- titions ; and, indeed, this is so usual with Lord Bacon, that, whenever we find an acute reflection or brilliant analogy, it is more than an even chance that it will re- cur in some other place. I have already observed that he has hinted the Novum Organum to be a digested summary of his method, but not the entire system as he designed to develop it, even in that small portion which he has handled at all. 59. Of the splendid passages in the No- vum Organum, none are perhaps Fallacies, so remarkable as his celebrated ldola ; division of fallacies ; not such as the dia- lecticians had been accustomed to refute, depending upon equivocal words or faulty disposition of premises, but lying far deeper in the natural or incidental prejudices of the mind itself. These are four in num- ber: idola tribus, to which, from certain common weaknesses of human nature, we are universally liable ; idola specus, which, from peculiar dispositions and circum- stances of individuals, mislead them in different manners; idola fori, arising from the current usage of words, which repre- sent things much otherwise than as they really are ; and idola theatri, which false systems of philosophy and erroneous methods of reasoning have introduced. Hence, as the refracted ray gives us a false notion as to the place of the object whose image it transmits, so our own minds are a refracting medium to the ob- jects of their own contemplation, and re- quire all the aid of a well-directed philoso- phy either to rectify the perception or to make allowances for its errors. 60. These idola, (5w/la, images, illu- sions, fallacies, or, as Lord Bacon confounded calls them in the Advancement of with idols. Learning, false appearances, have been often named in English idols of the tribe, of the den, of the market-place. But it seems better, unless we retain the Latin name, to employ one of the synonymous terms given above. For the use of idol in this sense is unwarranted by the prac- tice of the language, nor is it found in Bacon himself; but it has misled a host of writers, whoever might be the first that applied it, even among such as are con- versant with the Novum Organum. " Ba- con proceeds," says Playfair. " to enumer- ate the causes of error, the idols, as he calls them, or false divinities to which the mind had so long been accustomed to bow." And with a similar misapprehen- sion of the meaning of the word, in speak- ing of the idola specus, he says : " Besides FROM 1600 TO 1650. 79 the causes of error which are common to all mankind, each individual, according to Bacon, has his own dark cavern or den, into which the light is imperfectly ad- mitted, and in the obscurity of which a tutelary idol lurks, at whose shrine the truth is often sacrificed."* Thus also Dr. Thomas Brown : " in the inmost sanctua- ries of the mind were all the idols which he overthrew ;" and a later author on the Novum Organum fancies that Bacon " strikingly, though in his usual quaint style, calls the prejudices that check the progress of the mind by the name of idols, because mankind are apt to pay homage to these instead of regarding truth. "f Thus, too, in the translation of the Novum Organum, published in Mr. Basil Monta- gu's edition, we find idola rendered by idols, without explanation. We may, in fact, say that this meaning has been almost universally given by later writers. By whom it was -introduced I am not able to say. Cudworth, in a passage where he glances at Bacon, has said, "it is no idol of the den, to use that affected language." But, in the pedantic style of the seven- teenth century, it is not impossible that idol may here have been put as a mere translation of the Greek eiSuhov, and in the same general sense of an idea or intellect- ual image. J Although the popular sense would not be inapposite to the general purpose of Bacon in this first part of the Novum Organum, it cannot be reckoned so exact and philosophical an illustration of the sources of human error as the un- faithful image, the shadow of reality, seen through a refracting surface, or reflected from an unequal mirror, as in the Platonic- hypothesis of the cave, wherein we are placed with our backs to the light, to which he seems to allude in his idola specus.^ And as this is also plainly the true mean- * Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopaedia. t Introduction to the Novum Organum, published by the Society fo* the Diffusion of Useful Knowl- edge. Even Stewart seems to have fallen into the same error. " While these idols of the den main- tain their authority, the cultivation of the philo- sophical spirit is impossible ; or, rather, it is in a re- nunciation of this idolatry that the philosophical spirit essentially consists." Dissertation, &c. The observation is equally true, whatever sense we may give to idol. J In Todd's edition of Johnson's Dictionary this sense is not mentioned. But in that of the Encyclo- paedia Metropolitana we have these words : " An idol or image is also opposed to a reality ; thus Lord Bacon (see the quotation from him) speaks of idols or false appearances." The quotation is from the translation of one of his short tracts, which is not made by himself. It is, however, a proof that the word idol was once, at least, used in this sense. () Quisque ex phantasise suas cellulis, tanquam or specu P!atonis,philosophatur. Historia Natura- ing, as a comparison with the parallel pas- sages in the Advancement of Learning demonstrates, there can be no pretence for continuing to employ a word which has served to mislead such men as Brown and Playfair. 61. In the second book of the Novum Or- ganum, we come at length to Sc(;ond book the new logic, the interpretation of Novum of nature, as he calls it, or the Or e anum - rule for conducting inquiries in natural philosophy according to his inductive method. It is, as we have said, a frag- ment of his entire system, and is chiefly confined to the " prerogative instances,"* or phaenomena which are to be selected, for various reasons, as most likely to aid our investigations of nature. Fifteen of these are used to guide the intellect, five to assist the senses, seven to correct the practice. This- second book is written with more than usual want of perspicuity ; and, though it is intrinsically the Baconian philosophy in a pre-eminent sense, I much doubt whether it is very extensively read, though far more so than it was fifty years since. Playfair, however, has given an ex- cellent abstract of it in his Preliminary Dissertation to the Encyclopaedia Britan- nica, with abundant and judicious illus- trations from modern science. Sir John Herschel, in his admirable Discourse on Natural Philosophy, has added a greater number from still more recent discoveries, and has also furnished such a luminous development of the difficulties of the No- vum Organum as had been vainly hoped in former times. The Commentator of Bacon should be himself of an original genius in philosophy. These novel illus- trations are the more useful, because Ba- con himself, from defective knowledge of natural phaenomena, and from what, though contrary to his precepts, his ardent fancy could not avoid, a premature hasten- ing to explain the essences of things in- stead of their proximate causes, has fre- quently given erroneous examples. It is lis, in praefatione. Coleridge has some fine lines in allusion to this hypothesis in that magnificent effusion of his genius, the introduction to the second book of Joan of Arc, hut withdrawn, after the first edition, from that poem ; where he describes us as " Placed with our backs to bright reality." I am not, however, certain that Bacon meant this. See De Angmentis, lib. v., c 4. * The allusion in " prarogativae instantiarum" is not to the English word prerogative, as Sir John Herschel seems to suppose (Discourse on Natural Philosophy, p. 182), but to the praerogativa centuna in the Roman comitia, which being first called, though by lot, was generally found, by some preju- dice or superstition, to influence the rest, which sel- dom voted otherwise. It is rather a forced analogy, which is not uncommon with Bacon. 80 LITERATURE OF EUROPE to be observed, on the other hand, that he often anticipates, with marvellous sagaci- ty, the discoveries of posterity, and that his patient and acute analysis of the phaenom- ena of heat has been deemed a model of his own inductive reasoning. " No one," observes Playfair, " has done so much in such circumstances." He was even igno- rant of some things that he might have known ; he wanted every branch of math- ematics ; and, placed in this remote corner of Europe, without many kindred minds to animate his zeal for physical science, seems hardly to have believed the discov- eries of Galileo. 62. It has happened to Lord Bacon, as confidence it has to many other writers, that of Bacon, he has been extolled for qualities by no means characteristic of his mind. The first aphorism of the Novum Orga- num, so frequently quoted, " Man, the ser- vant and interpreter of nature, performs and understands so much as he has col- lected concerning the order of nature by observation or reason, nor do his power or his knowledge extend farther," has seemed to bespeak an extreme sobriety of imagination, a willingness to acquiesce in registering the phenomena of nature without seeking a revelation of her se- crets. And nothing is more true than that such was the cautious and patient course of inquiry prescribed by him to all the genuine disciples of his inductive method. But he was far from being one of those humble philosophers who would limit hu- man science to the enumeration of partic- ular facts. He had, on the contrary, vast hopes of the human intellect under the guidance of his new logic. The Latens Schematismus, or intrinsic configuration of bodies ; the Latens processus ad formam, or transitional operation through which they pass from one form or condition of nature to another, would one day, as he hoped, be brought to light ; and this not, of course, by simple observation of the senses, nor even by assistance of instru- ments, concerning the utility of which he was rather skeptical, but by a rigorous ap- plication of exclusive and a'ffirmative prop- ositions to the actual phenomena by the inductive method. " It appears," says Playfair, " that Bacon placed the ultimate object of philosophy too high, and too much out of the reach of man, even when his exertions are most skilfully conduct- ed. He seems to have thought that, by giving a proper direction to our research- es, and carrying them on according to the inductive method, we should arrive at the knowledge of the essences of the pow- ers and qualities residing in bodies ; that we should, for instance, become acquaint- ed with the essence of heat, of cold, of colour, of transparency. The fact, how- ever, is that, in as far as science has yet advanced, no one essence has been discov- red, either as to matter in general, or as to any of its more extensive modifications. We are yet in doubt whether heat is a pe- culiar motion of the minute parts of bod- ies, as Bacon himself conceived it to be, or something emitted or radiated from their surfaces ; or, lastly, the vibrations of an elastic medium by which they are pen- etrated and surrounded." 63. It requires a very extensive survey of the actual dominion of sci- Almost jus- ence, and a great sagacity to tifiedoriate; judge, even in the loosest manner, what is beyond the possible limits of human knowledge. Certainly, since the time when this passage was written by Play- fair, more steps have been made towards realizing the sanguine anticipations of Ba- con than in the two centuries that had elapsed since the publication of the Novum Organum. We do not yet know the real an- ture of heat ; but few would pronounce it impossible, or even unlikely, that we may know it, in the same sense that we know other physical realities not immediately perceptible, before many years shall have expired. The atomic theory of Dalton, the laws of crystalline substances discov- ered by Hauy,. the development of others still subtler by Mitscherlich, instead of ex- hibiting, as the older philosophy had done, the idola rerum, the sensible appearances of 'concrete substance, radiations from the internal glory, admit us, as it were, to stand within the vestibule of nature's tem- ple, and to gaze on the very curtain of the shrine. If, indeed, we could know the in- ternal structure of one primary atom, and could tell, not, of course, by immediate tes- timony of sense, but by legitimate infer- ence from it, through what constant laws its component molecules, the atoms of atoms, attract, retain, and repel each other, we should have before our mental vision not only the Latens Schematismus, the real configuration of substances, but their form or efficient nature, and could give as perfect a definition of any one of them of gold, for example as we can of a cone or a parallelogram. The recent discoveries of animal and vegetable development, and especially the . happy application of the microscope to observing chymical and or- ganic changes in their actual course, are equally remarkable advances towards a knowledge of the Latens processus ad formam, the corpuscular motions by which all change must be accomplished, and are, FROM 1600 TO 1650. in iact, a great deal more than Bacon him- self would have deemed possible.* 64. These astonishing revelations of bnt should natural mysteries, fresh tidings DC kept with- of which crowd in upon us eve- m bounds. r y jg^ ma y b e ij^iy to over- whelm all sober hesitation as to the capa- cities of the human mind, and to bring back that confidence which Bacon, in so much less favourable circumstances, has ventured to feel. There seem, however, to be good reasons for keeping within bounds this expectation of future improve- ment, which, as it has sometimes been an- nounced in unqualified phrases, is hardly more philosophical than the vulgar suppo- sition that the capacities of mankind are almost stationary. The phenomena of nature, indeed, in all their possible combi- nations, are so infinite, in a popular sense of the word, that during no period to which the human species can be conceived to reach would they be entirely collected and registered. The case is still stronger as to the secret agencies and processes by means of which their phenomena are dis- played. These have as yet, in no one instance, so far as I know, been fully ascertained. " Microscopes," says Hcr- schel, " have been constructed which mag- nify more than one thousand times in lin- ear dimension, so that the smallest visible grain of sand may be enlarged to the appearance of one million times more bulky ; yet the only impression we receive by viewing it through such a magnifier is that it reminds us of some vast fragment of a rock ; while the intimate structure on which depend its colour, its hardness, and its chymical properties, remains still con- cealed ; we do not seem to have made even an approach to a closer analysis of it by any such scrutiny."! 65. The instance here chosen is not the Limits to our most favourable for the experi- knowiedge mental philosopher. He might by sense. perhaps hope to gain more knowledge by applying the best micro- scope to a regular crystal or to an orga- nized substance. And it is impossible not to regret that the great discovery of the solar microscope has been either so im- perfectly turned to account by philoso- phers, or has disappointed their hopes of * By the Latens processus he meant only what Is the natural operation by which one form or con- dition of being is induced upon another. Thus, when the surface of iron becomes rusty, or when water is converted into steam, some change has ta- ken place, a latent progress from one form to another. This, in numberless cases, we can now answer, at least to a very great extent, by the science of chym- istry. f Discourse on Nat. Philos., p. 191. VOL. II. L exhibiting the mechanism of nature with the distinctness they require. But there is evidently a fundamental limitation of physical science, arising from those of the bodily senses and of muscular motions. The nicest instruments must be construct- ed and directed by the human hand ; the range of the finest glasses must have a limit, not only in their own natural struc- ture, but in that of the human eye. But no theory in science will be acknowledged to deserve any regard, except as it is drawn immediately, and by an exclusive process, from the phenomena which our senses re- port to us. Thus the regular observation of definite proportions in chymical combi- nation has suggested the atomic theory; and even this has been skeptically accept- ed by our cautious school of philosophy. If we are ever to go farther into the mole- cular analysis of substances, it must be through the means and upon the authority of new discoveries exhibited to our senses in experiment. But the existing powers of exhibiting or compelling nature by in- struments, vast as they appear to us, and wonderful as has been their efficacy in many respects, have done little for many years past in diminishing the number of substances reputed to be simple ; and with strong reasons to suspect that some, of these, at least, yield to the crucible of nature, our electric batteries have up to this hour played innocuously round their heads. 66. Bacon has thrown out, once or twice, a hint at a single principle, a sum- mary law of nature, as if all subordi- nate causes resolved themselves into one great process, according to which God works his will in the universe : Opus quod operatur Deus a principio usque ad finem. The natural tendency towards simplification, and what we consider as harmony, in our philosophical systems, which Lord Bacon himself reckons among the idola tribus, the fallacies incident to the species, has led some to favour this unity of physical law. Impact and grav- ity have each had their supporters. But we are as yet at a great distance from es- tablishing such a generalization, nor does it appear by any means probable that it will ever assume any simple form. 67. The close connexion of the inductive process recommended by Ba- i n d uct i ve io- con with natural philosophy, in gic; wheth- the common sense of that word, * c ? nfl ned , . , , , . ,. , to physics. and the general selection of his examples for illustration from that sci- ence, have given rise to a questi n whether he comprehended metaphysical and moral philosophy within the scope of LITERATURE OF EUROPE his inquiry.* That they formed a part of the Installation of Sciences, and, there- fore, of the Baconian philosophy, in the fullest sense of the word, is obvious from the fact that a large proportion of the treatise De Augmentis Scientiarum is ded- icated to those subjects ; and it is not less so that the idols, of the Novum Organum are at least as apt to deceive us in moral as in physical argument. The question, therefore, can only be raised as to the pe- culiar method of conducting investigations, which is considered as his own. This would, however, appear to have been de- cided by himself in very positive lan- guage. " It may be doubted, rather than objected, by some, whether we look to the perfection, by means of our method, of natural philosophy alone, or of the other sciences, also, of logic, of ethics, of poli- tics. But we certainly mean what has here been said to be understood as to them all ; and as the ordinary logic, which proceeds by syllogism, does not relate to physical only, but to every other science ; so ours, which proceeds by induction, comprises them all. For we as much collect a history and form tables .concern- ing anger, fear, shame, and the like, and also concerning examples from civil life, and as much concerning the intellectual operations of memory, combination and partition, judgment and the others, as con- cerning heat and cold, or light, or vegeta- tion, or such things."! But he proceeds to intimate, as far as I understand the next sentence, that, although his method or lo- * This question was discussed some years since by the late editor of the Edinburgh Review on one side, and by Dugald Stewart on the other. See Edinburgh Review, vol. iii., p. 273, and the Prelim- inary Dissertation to Stewart's Philosophical Es- says. t Etiam dubitabit quispiam potius quam objiciet, utrurn nos de natural! tantum philosophia, an etiam de scientiis reliquis, logicis, ethicis, politicis, secun- dum viam nostram perficiendi loquamur. At nos certe de universis haec, quae dicta sunt, intelligimus ; atque quemadmodum vulgaris logica, quse regit res per syllogismum, non tantum ad naturales, sed ad omnes scientias pertinet, ita et nostra, quse procedit per inductionem, omnia complectitur. Tarn enirn Historiam et Tabulas Inveniendi conficimus de ira, metu et verecundia et similibus, ac etiam de exem- plis rerum civilium ; nee minfis de motibus mentali- bus mernoria; compositionis et divisionis, iudicii et reliquorum, quam de calido et frigido, autluce, aut vegetatione aut similibus. Sed tamen cum nostra ratio interpretandi, post historiam prasparatam et ordinatam, non mentis tantum motus et discursus, ut logica vulgaris, sed et rerurn naturam intueatur, ita mentem regimus ut ad rerum naturam se aptis per omnia modis appjicare possit. Atque propterea multa etdiversa in doctrina interpretationis pracip- imus, quae ad subjecti, de quo inquirimus, qualita- tem et conditionem modum inveniendi nonnulla ex parte applicent. -Nov. Org, i., 127. gic, strictly speaking, is applicable to oth- er subjects, it is his immediate object to inquire into the properties of natural things, or what is generally meant by physics. To this, indeed, the second book of the Novum Organum, and the portions that he completed of the remaining parts of the Instauratio Magna, bear witness. 68. It by no means follows, because the leading principles of the induct- ive philosophy are applicable fosop"yb"iit to other topics of inquiry than on observa- what is usually comprehended I 1 e/} n f e n n d l ex ~ under the name of physics, that we can employ all the praerogativae instan- tiarum, and, still less, the peculiar rules for conducting experiments which Bacon has given us, in moral, or even in psy- chological disquisitions. Many of them are plainly referrible to particular manip- ulations, or, at most, to limited subjects of chymical theory. And the frequent occurrence of passages which show Lord Bacon's fondness for experimental pro- cesses, seem to have led some to consider his peculiar methods as more exclusively related to such modes of inquiry than they really are. But when the Baconian phi- losophy is said to be experimental, we are to remember that experiment is only better than what we may call passive ob- servation, because it enlarges our capaci- ty of observing with exactness and expe- dition. The reasoning is grounded on ob- servation in both cases. In astronomy where nature remarkably presents the ob- jects of our observation without liability to error or uncertain delay, we may rea- son on the inductive principle as well as in sciences that require tentative opera- tions. The inference drawn from the dif- ference of time in the occupation of the satellites of Jupiter at different seasons, in favour of the Copernican theory and against the instantaneous motion of light, is an induction of the same kind with any that could be derived from an experiment- urn crucis. It is an exclusion of those hypotheses which might solve many phe- nomena, but fail to explain those immedi- ately observed. 69. But astronomy, from the compara- tive solitariness, if we may so Advantages say, of all its phenomena, and of the latter, the simplicity of their laws, has an advan- tage that is rarely found in sciences of mere observation. Bacon justly gave to experiment, or the interrogation of nature, compelling her to give up her secrets, a decided preference whenever it can be employed : and it is unquestionably true that the inductive method is tedious, if not uncertain, when it cannot resort to FROM 1600 TO 1050. 83 so compendious a process. One of the subjects selected by Bacon, in the third part of the Installation, as specimens of the method by which an inquiry into na- ture should be conducted, the History of Winds, does not greatly admit of experi- ments ; and the very slow progress of meteorology, which has yet hardly de- served the name of a science, when com- pared with that of chymistry or optics, will illustrate the difficulties of employing the inductive method without their aid. It is not, therefore, that Lord Bacon's method of philosophizing is experimental, but that by experiment it is most success- fully developed. 70. It will follow from hence, that in proportion as, in any matter of applicable 8 i n( l lur y> we can separate, in what to phiioso- we examine, the determining con- fiiaiufiiud" ditions, or law of form, from ev- erything extraneous, we shall be more able to use the Baconian method with advantage. In metaphysics, or what Stewart would have called the philosophy of the human mind, there seems much in its own nature capable of being subjected to the inductive reasoning. Such are those facts which, by their intimate con- nexion with physiology, or the laws of the bodily frame, fall properly within the prov- ince of the physician. In these, though exact observation is chiefly required, it is often practicable to shorten its process by experiment. And another important il- lustration may be given from the educa- tion of children, considered as a science of rules deduced from observation ; where- in also we are frequently more able to substitute experiment for mere experi- ence than with mankind in general, whom we may observe at a distance, but cannot control. In politics, as well as in moral Less so to prudence, we can seldom do politics and more than this. It seems, how- inorais. ever, practicable to apply the close attention enforced by Bacon, and the careful arrangement and comparison of phenomena, which are the basis of his induction, to these subjects. Thus, if the circumstances of all popular seditions re- corded in history were to be carefully collected with great regard to the proba- bility of evidence, and to any peculiarity that may have affected the results, it might be easy to perceive such a connexion of antecedent and subsequent events in the great plurality of instances, as would rea- sonably lead us to form probable inferences as to similar tumults when they should occur. This has sometimes been done, with less universality, and with much less accuracy than the Baconian method re- quires, by such theoretical writers on pol- itics as Machiavel and Bodin. But it has been apt to degenerate into pedantry, and to disappoint the practical statesman, who commonly rejects it with scorn; partly because civil history is itself defective, seldom giving a just view of events, and still less frequently of the motives of those concerned in them ; partly because the history of mankind is far less copious than that of nature, and in much that re- lates to politics has not yet had time to furnish the groundwork of a sufficient in- duction; but partly, also, from some dis- tinctive circumstances, which affect our reasonings in moral far more than in phys- ical science, and which deserve to be con- sidered, so far, at least, as to sketch tha arguments that might be employed. 71. The Baconian logic, as has been al- ready said, deduces universal Indnct j on principles from select observa- less conciu- tion, that is, from particular, gj^g",^ 68 * and, in some cases of experi- ment, from singular instances. It may easily appear, to one conversant with the syllogistic method, less legitimate than the old induction, which proceeded by an ex- haustive enumeration of particulars, and, at most, warranting but a probable con- clusion. The answer to this objection can only be found in the acknowledged uniformity of the laws of nature, so that whatever has once occurred will, under absolutely similar circumstances, always occur again. This may be called the suppressed premise of every Baconian enthymem, every inference from observa- tion of phenomena, which extends beyond the particular case. When it is once as- certained that water is composed of one proportion of oxygen to one of hydrogen, we never doubt but that such are its inva- riable constituents. We may repeat the experiment, to secure ourselves against the risk of error in the operation, or of some unperceived condition that may have affected the result ; but, when a sufficient number of trials has secured us against this, an invariable law of nature is infer- red from the particular instance ; no one conceives that one pint of pure water can be of a different composition from anoth- er. All men, even the most rude, reason upon this primary maxim ; but they rea- son inconclusively from misapprehending the true relations of cause and effect in the phenomena to which they direct their at- tention. It is by the sagacity and ingenu- ity with which Bacon h^s excluded the va- rious sources of error, and disengaged the true cause, that his method is distinguish- ed from that which the vulgar practise. LITERATURE OF EUROPE 72. It is required, however, for the va- Reasons for lidit y of this method ' first ' that this diffjr- there should be a strict uniform- ence. j tv j n t jj e general laws of nature, from which we can infer that what has been will, in the same conditions, be again ; and, secondly, that we shall be able to perceive and estimate all the conditions with an entire and exclusive knowledge. The first is granted in all physical phae- nomena; but in those which we cannot submit to experiment, or investigate by some such method as Bacon has pointed out, we often find our philosophy at fault for want of the second. Such at present is the case with respect to many parts of chymistry ; for example, that of organic substances, which we can analyze, but, as yet, can in very few instances recompose. We do not know, and, if we did know, could not, perhaps, command, the entire conditions of organic bodies (even struc- turally, not as living), the form, as Bacon calls it, of blood, or milk, or oak-galls. But, in attempting to subject the actions of men to this inductive philosophy, we are arrested by the want of both the necessa- ry requisitions. Matter can only be di- verted from its obedience to unvarying laws by the control of mind ; but we have to inquire whether mind is equally the passive instrument of any law. We have to open the great problem of human liber- ty, and must deny even a disturbing force to the will before we can assume that all actions of mankind must, under given con- ditions, preserve the same necessary train of sequences as a molecule of matter. But, if this be answered affirmatively, we are still almost as far removed from a con- clusive result as before. We cannot, without contradicting every day experi- ence, maintain that all men are deter- mined alike by the same exterior circum- stances ; we must have recourse to the differences of temperament, of physical constitution, of casual or habitual associa- tion. The former alone, however, are, at the best, subject to our observation, either at the time, or, as is most common, through testimony ; of the latter, no being, which does not watch the movements of the soul itself, can reach more than a probable con- jecture. Sylla resigned the dictatorship ; therefore all men, in the circumstances of Sylla, will do the same, is an argument false in one sense of the word circumstan- ces, and useless, at least, in the other. It is doubted by many whether meteorology will ever be well Understood, on account of the complexity of the forces concerned, and their remoteness from the apprehen- sion of the senses. Do not the same dif- ficulties apply to human affairs 1 And while we reflect on these difficulties, to which we must add those which spring from the scantiness of our means of ob- servation, the defectiveness and falsehood of testimony, especially what is called historical, and a thousand other errors to which the various " idola of the world and the cave" expose us, we shall be rather astonished that so many probable rules of civil prudence have been treasured up and confirmed by experience, than dis- posed to give them a higher place in phi- losophy than they can claim. 73. It might be alleged in reply to these considerations, that, admitting, Considera . the absence of a strictly scien- tions on the tific certainty in moral reason- overside, ing, we have yet, as seems acknowledged on the other side, a great body of proba- ble inferences, in the extensive knowledge and sagacious application of which most of human wisdom consists. And all that is required of us in dealing either with moral evidence or with the conclusions we draw from it, is to estimate the proba- bility of neither too high ; an error from which the severe and patient discipline of the inductive philosophy is most likely to secure us. It would be added by some, that the theory of probabilities deduces a wonderful degree of certainty from things very uncertain, when a sufficient number of experiments can be made ; and thus, that events depending upon the will of mankind, even under circumstances the most anomalous, and apparently irreduci- ble to principles, may be calculated with a precision inexplicable to any one who has paid little attention to the subject. This, perhaps, may appear rather a curious ap- plication of mathematical science than one from which our moral reasonings are likely to derive much benefit, especially as the conditions under which a very high probability can mathematically be obtain- ed involve a greater number of trials than experience will generally furnish. It is, nevertheless, a field that deserves to be more fully explored : the success of those who have attempted to apply analytical processes to moral probabilities has not hitherto been very encouraging, inasmuch as they have often come to results falsi- fied by experience ; but a more scrupulous regard to all the conditions of each prob- lem may perhaps obviate many sources of error.* * A calculation was published not long since, said to be on the authority of an eminent living phi- losopher, according to which, granting a moderate probability that each of twelve jurors would decide rightly, the chances in favour of the rectitude o FROM 1600 TO 1650. 85 J i. It seems, upon the whole, that we Result or should neither conceive the in- the whole, ductive method to be useless in regard to any subject but physical science, nor deny the peculiar advantages it pos- sesses in those inquiries rather than oth- ers. What must in all studies be impor- tant, is the habit of turning round the sub- ject of our investigation in every light, the observation of everything that is peculiar, the exclusion of all that we find on reflec- tion to be extraneous. In historical and antiquarian researches ; in all critical ex- amination which turns upon facts ; in the scrutiny of judicial evidence, a great part of Lord Bacon's method, not, of course, all the experimental rules of the Novum Organum, has, as I conceive, a legitimate application.* I would refer any one who their unanimous verdict were made something ex- travagantly high, I think about 8000 to 1. It is more easy to perceive the fallacies of this pretend- ed demonstration than to explain how a man of great acuteness should have overlooked them. One among many is, that it assumes the giving a verdict at all to be voluntary, whereas, in practice, the jury must decide one way or the other. We must de- duct, therefore, a fraction, expressing the probabil- ity that some of the twelve have wrongly conceded their opinions to the rest. One danger of this rath- er favourite application of mathematical principles to moral probabilities, as indeed it is of statistical tables (a remark of far wider extent), is, that, by considering mankind merely as units, it practically habituates the mind to a moral and social levelling, as inconsistent with a just estimate of men as it is characteristic of the present age. * The principle of Bacon's prerogative instances, and perhaps, in some cases, a very analogous appli- cation of them, appear to hold in our inquiries into historical evidence. The fact sought to be ascer- tained in the one subject corresponds to the physi- cal law in the other. The testimonies, as we, though rather laxly, call them, or passages in books from which we infer the fact, correspond to the observations or experiments from which we de- duce the law. The necessity of a sufficient induc- tion, by searching for all proof that may bear on the question, is as manifest in one case as in the other. The exclusion of precarious and inconclusive evi- dence is alike indispensable in both. The selection of prerogative instances, or such as carry with them satisfactory conviction, requires the same sort of inventive and reasoning powers. It is easy to il- lustrate this by examples. Thus, in the controver- sy concerning the Icon Basilike, the admission of Gauden's claim by Lord Clarendon is in the nature of a prerogative instance ; it renders the supposition of the falsehood of that claim highly improbable. But the many second-hand and hearsay testimonies which may be alleged on the olher side, to prove that the book was written by King Charles, are not prerogative instances, because their falsehood will be found to involve very little improbability. So, in a different controversy, the silence of some of the fathers as to the text, commonly called, of the three heavenly witnesses, even while expounding the context of the passage, is a quasi prerogative in- stance ; a decisive proof that they did not know it, or did not believe it genuine ; because, if they did, no motive can be conceived for the omission. But may doubt this to his History of Winds, as one sample of what we mean by the Baconian method, and ask whether a kind of investigation, analogous to what is therein pursued for the sake of eliciting physical truths, might not be employed in any analytical process where general or even particular facts are sought to be known. Or, if an example is required of such an investigation, let us look at the copious induction from the past and ac- tual history of mankind upon which Mal- thus established his general theory of the causes which have retarded the natural progress of population. Upon all these subjects, before mentioned, there has been an astonishing improvement in the rea- soning of the learned, and perhaps of the world at large, since the time ?f Bacon, though much remains very defective. In what degree it may be owing to the prev- alence of a physical philosophy, founded the silence of Laurentius Valla as to its absence from the manuscripts on which he commented, is no prerogative instance to prove that it was con- tained in them ; because it is easy to perceive that he might have motives for saying nothing ; and, though the negative argument, as it is called, or in- ference that a fact is not true, because such and such persons have not mentioned it, is, taken gen- erally, weaker than positive testimony, it will fre- quently supply prerogative instances where the lat- ter does not. Launoy, in a little treatise, De Auc- toritate Negantis Argumenti, which displays more plain sense than ingenuity or philosophy, lays it down that a fact of a public nature, which is not mentioned by any writer within 200 years of the time, supposing, of course, that there is extant a competent number of writers who would naturally have mentioned it, is not to be believed. The pe- riod seems rather arbitrary, and was possibly so considered by himself; but the general principle is of the highest importance in historical criticism. Thus, in the once celebrated question of Pope Joan, the silence of all writers near the time as to so won- derful a fact was justly deemed a kind of preroga- tive argument when set in opposition to the many repetitions of the story in later ages. But the si- lence of Gildas and Bede as to the victories of Ar- thur is no such argument against their reality, be- cause they were not under a historical obligation, or any strong motive, which would prevent their si- lence. Generally speaking, the more anomalous and interesting an event is, the stronger is the ar- gument against its truth from the silence of con- temporaries, on account of the propensity of man- kind to believe and recount the marvellous; and the weaker is the argument from the testimony of later times for the same reason. A similar analogy holds also in jurisprudence. The principle of our law, rejecting hearsay and secondary evidence, is founded on the Baconian rule. Fifty persons may depose that they have heard of a fact or of its cir- cumstances ; but the eyewitness is the prerogative instance. It would carry usjoo far to develop this at length, even if I were fully prepared to do so ; but this much may lead us to think, that whoever shall fill up that lamentable desideratum, the logic of evidence, ought to have familiarized himself with the Novum Organum. LITERATURE OF EUROPE upon his inductive logic, it might not bi uninteresting to inquire.* 75. It is probable that Lord Bacon nev , rti er much followed up in his owi l>ill Oil a apll* ., , . 1'j." f 1_ * tude former- mind that application of hi ai subjects, method to psychological, am still less to moral and political subjects which he has declared himself to intend The distribution of the Instauratio Magna which he has prefixed to it, relates wholly to physical science. He has in no one instance given an example, in the Novum Organum, from moral philosophy, and one only, that of artificial memory, from what he would have called logic. f But we must constantly remember that the phi- losophy of Bacon was left exceedingly in- complete. Many lives would not nave sufficed for what he had planned, and he gave only the hong subsecwa, of his own. It is evident that he had turned his thoughts to physical philosophy rather for an exercise of his reasoning faculties, and out of his insatiable thirst for knowl- edge, than from any peculiar aptitude for their subjects, much less any advantage of opportunity for their cultivation. He was more eminently the philosopher of human than of general nature. Hence he is exact, as well as profound, in all his re- flections on civil life and mankind, while his conjectures in natural philosophy, though often very acute, are apt to wan- der far from the truth in consequence of * "The effects which Bacon's writings have hitherto produced, have indeed been far more con- spicuous in physics than in the science of mind Even here, however, they have been great and most important, as well as in some collateral branches of knowledge, such as natural jurisprudence, polit- ical economy, criticism, and morals, which spring up from the same root, or, rather, which are branch- es of that tree of which the science of mind is the trunk." Stewart's Philosophical Essays, Prelim. Dissertation. The principal advantage, perhaps, of those habits of reasoning which the Baconian meth- ods, whether learned directly, or through the many disciples of that school, have a tendency to gener- ate, is, that they render men cautious and pains- taking in the pursuit of truth, and therefore restrain them from deciding too soon. Nemo reperitur qui in rebus ipsis et experientia moram fecerit legiti- main. These words are more frequently true of moral and political reasoners than of any others. Men apply historical of personal experience, but they apply it hastily, and without giving themselves time for either a copious or an exact induction ; the great majority being too much influenced by pas- sion, party spirit, or vanity, or perhaps by affections morally right, but not the less dangerous in reason- ing, to maintain the patient and dispassionate sus- pense of judgment (aKaraAjjifia), which ought to be the condition of our inquiries. t Nov. Organ., ii., 26. It may, however, be ob- served, that we find a few passages in the ethical part of De Augmentis, lib. vii., cap. 3, which show that he had some notions of moral induction germi- nating in his mini his defective acquaintance with the phae- nomena of nature. His Centuries of Nat- ural History give abundant proof of this. He is, in all these inquiries, like one doubtfully, and by degrees, making out a distant prospect, but often deceived by the haze. But if we compare what may be found in the sixth, seventh, and eighth books. De Augmentis; in the Essays, the History of Henry VII., and the various short treatises contained in his works on moral and political wisdom, and on human nature, from experience of which all such wisdom is drawn, with the Rhetoric, Eth- ics, and Politics of Aristotle, or with the historians most celebrated for their deep insight into civil society and human char- acter; with Thucydides, Tacitus, Philip de Comines, Machiavel, Davila, Hume, we shall, I think, find that one man may al- most be compared with all of these to- gether. When Galileo is named as equal to Bacon, it is to be remembered that Gal- ileo was no moral or political philosopher, and in this department Leibnitz certainly falls ver) r short of Bacon. Burke perhaps omes, of all modern writers, the nearest to him ; but, though Bacon may not be more profound than Burke, he is still more copious and comprehensive. 76. The comparison of Bacon and Gal- leo is naturally built upon the comparison nlluence which, in the same age, of Bacon and they exerted in overthrowing Gallleo - ;he philosophy of the schools, and in found- ng that new discipline of real science which has rendered the last centuries glo- rious. Hume has given the preference to he latter, who made accessions to the do- main of human knowledge so splendid, so naccessible to cavil, so unequivocal in heir results, that the majority of man- kind would perhaps be carried along with his decision. There seems, however, to be 10 doubt that the mind of Bacon was more comprehensive and profound. But these jomparisons are apt to involve incommen- urable relations. In their own intellect- al characters they bore no great resem- blance to each other. Bacon had scarce my knowledge of geometry, and so far anks much below not only Galileo, but )escartes, Newton, and Leibnitz, all sig- lalized by wonderful discoveries in the cience of quantity, or in that part of mysics which employs it. He has, in me of the profound aphorisms of the No- urn Organum, distinguished the two spe- ies of philosophical genius ; one more apt o perceive the differences of things, the >ther their analogies. In a mind of the lighest order neither of these powers will really deficient, and his own inductive FROM 1600 TO 1650. method is at once the best exercise of both, and the best safeguard against the excess of either. But, upon the whole, it may certainly be said that the genius of Lord Bacon was naturally more inclined to collect the resemblances of nature than to note her differences. This is the case with men like him of sanguine temper, warm fancy, and brilliant wit ; but it is not the frame of mind which is best suit- ed to strict reasoning. 77. It is no proof of a solid acquaintance with Lord Bacon's philosophy to deify his name as the ancient schools did those of their founders, or even to exaggerate the powers of his genius. Powers they were surprisingly great, yet limited in their range, and not in all respects equal ; nor could they overcome every impedi- ment of circumstance. Even of Bacon it may be said that he attempted more than he has achieved, and perhaps more than he clearly apprehended. His objects appear sometimes indistinct, and I am not sure that they are always consistent. In the Advancement of Learning he aspired to fill up, or, at least, to indicate the defi- ciencies in every department of knowl- edge ; he gradually confined himself to philosophy, and at length to physics. But fe,w of his works can be deemed complete, not even the treatise De Aug- mentis, which comes nearer to it than most, of the rest. Hence the study of Lord Bacon is difficult, and not, as I con- ceive, very well adapted to those who have made no progress whatever in the exact sciences, nor accustomed them- selves to independent thinking. They have never been made a textbook in our universities ; though, after a judicious course of preparatory studies by which I mean a good foundation in geometiy and the philosophical principles of grammar the first book of the Novum Organum might be very advantageously combined with the instruction of an enlightened lec- turer.* * It is by no means to be inferred, that, because the actual text of Bacon is not always such as can be well understood by very young men, I object to their being led to the real principles of inductive philosophy, which alone will teach them to think, firmly, but not presumptuously, for themselves. Few defects, on the contrary, in our system of edu- cation are more visible than the want of an ade- quate course of logic ; and this is not likely to be rectified so long as the Aristotelian methods chal- lenge that denomination exclusively of all other aids. to the reasoning faculties. The position that nothing else is to be called logic, were it even agreeable to the derivation of the word, which it is not, or to the usage of the ancients, which is by no means uniformly the case, or to that of modern philosophy and correct language, which is certain- ly not at-all the case> is no answer to the question, 78. The ignorance of Bacon in mathe- matics, and, what was much n is prejudice worse, his inadequate notions against matu- of their utility, must be reck, ematics - whether what we call logic does not deserve to be taught at all. A living writer of high reputation, who has at least fully understood his own subject, and illus- trated it better than his predecessors, from a more enlarged reading and thinking, wherein his own acuteriess has been improved by the writers of the Baconian school, has been unfortunately instru- mental, by the very merits of his treatise on Logic, in keeping up the prejudices on this subject, which have generally been deemed characteristic of the university to which he belonged. All the reflection I have been able to give to the subject has con- vinced me of the inefiicacy of the syllogistic art in enabling us to think rightly for ourselves, or, which is part of thinking rightly, in detecting those falla- cies of others which might impose on our under- standing before we have acquired that art. It has been often alleged, and, as far as I can judge, with perfect truth, that no man who can be worth an- swering ever commits, except through mere inad- vertence, any paralogisms which the common logic serves to point out. It is easy enough to construct syllogisms which sin against its rules; but the question is, by whom they were employed. It is not uncommon, as I am aware, to represent an ad- versary as reasoning illogically ; but this is gener- ally effected by putting his argument into our own words. The great fault of all, over-induction, or the assertion of a general premise upon an insuffi- cient examination- of particulars, cannot be discov- ered or cured by any logical skill ; and this is the error into which men really fall, not that of omit- ting to distribute the middle term, though it comes in effect, and often in appearance, to the same thing. I do not contend that the rules of syllogism, which are very short and simple, ought not to be learned; or that there may not be some advantage in occa- sionally stating our own argument, or calling on another to state his, in a regular form (an advan- tage, however, rather dialectical, which is, in other words, rhetorical, than one which affects the rea- soning faculties) : nor do I deny that it is philo- sophically worth while to know that all general rea- soning by words may be reduced into syllogism, as it is to know that most of geometry may be resolved into the super-position of equal triangles ; but to represent this portion of logical science as the whole, appears to me almost like teaching the scholar Euclid's axioms, and the axiomatic theo- rem to which I have alluded, and calling this the science of geometry. The following passage from the Port-Royal logic is very judicious and candid, giving as much to the Aristotelian system as it de- serves : " Cette partie, que nous avons mainte- nant a trailer, qui comprend les regies du raisonne- ment, est estimee la plus importante de la logique, et c'est presque 1'unique qu'on y traite avec quelque soin ; mais il y a sujet de douter si elle est aussi utile qu'on se Pimagine. La plupart des erreurs des hommes, comme nous avons deja dit ailleurs, viennent bien plus de ce qu'ils raisonnent sur de faux principes, que non pas de ce qu'ils raisonnent mal suivant leurs principes. II arrive rarement qu'on se laisse tromper par des raisonnemens qui ne soient faux que parceque la consequence en est mal tiree ; et ceux qui ne seroient pas capables d'en reconnoitre la faussete par la seule lumiere de la raison, ne le seroient pas ordinairement d'enten- dre les regies que 1'on en donne, et encore moins de les appliquer. Neanmoins, quaud on ne considers 88 LITERATURE OF EUROPE oned among the chief defects in his phil- osophical writings. In a remarkable pas- sage of the Advancement of Learning, he held mathematics to be a part of meta- physics ; but the place of this is altered in the Latin, and they are treated as merely auxiliary or instrumental to phys- ical inquiry. He had some prejudice against pure mathematics, and thought they had been unduly elevated in com- parison with the realities of nature. " I know not," he says, " how it has arisen that mathematics and logic, which ought to be the serving-maids of physical phi- losophy, yet affecting to vaunt the cer- tainty that belongs to them, presume to exercise a dominion over her." It is surely very erroneous to speak of geome- try, which relates to the objective reali- ties of space, and to natural objects so far as extended, as a mere handmaid of phys- ical philosophy, and not rather a part of it. Playfair has made some good remarks on the advantages derived to experimental philosophy itself from the mere applica- tion of geometry and algebra. And one of the reflections which this ought to ex- cite is, that we are not to conceive, as some hastily do, that there can be no real utility to mankind, even of that kind of utility which consists in multiplying the conveniences and luxuries of life, spring- ing from theoretical and speculative in- quiry. The history of algebra, so barren in the days of Tartaglia and Vieta, so productive of wealth when applied to dy- roit ces regies que comme des verites speculatives, elles serviroient toujours a exercer 1'esprit ; et de plus, on ne peut nier qu'elles n'aient quelque usage en quelques rencontres, et a 1'egard de quelques personnes, qui, etant d'un naturel vif et penetrant, ne se laissent quelquefois troinper par des fausses consequences, que faute d'attention, a quoi la re- flexion qu'ils feroient sur ces regies, seroit capable de remedier." Art de Penser, part iii. How dif- ferent is this sensible passage from one quoted from some anonymous writer in Whateley's Logic, p. 34. " A fallacy consists of an ingenious mixture of truth and falsehood, so entangled, so intimately blended, that the fallacy is, in the chymical phrase, held in solution ; one drop of sound logic is that test which immediately disunites them, makes the foreign substance visible, and precipitates it to the bottom." One fallacy, it might be answered, as common as any, is the false analogy, the misleading the mind by a comparison, where there is no real proportion or resemblance. The chymist's test is the necessary means of detecting the foreign substance ; if the " drop of sound logic" be such, it is strange that lawyers, mathematicians, and mankind in general should so sparingly employ it ; the fact being noto- rious, that those most eminent for strong reasoning powers are rarely conversant with the syllogistic method. It is also well known, that these " inti- mately blended mixtures of truth and falsehood" deceive no man of plain sense. So much for the Utt. namical calculations in our own, may be a sufficient answer. 79. One of the petty blemishes which, though lost in the splendour of Bacon's ex- Lord Bacon's excellences, it is cess of wit. not unfair to mention, is connected with the peculiar characteristics of his mind ; he is sometimes too metaphorical and witty. His remarkable talent for discov- ering analogies seems to have inspired him with too much regard to them as ar- guments, even when they must appear to any common reader fanciful and far-fetch- ed. His terminology, chiefly for the same reason, is often a little affected, and, in Latin, rather barbarous. The divisions of his prerogative instances in the Novum Organum are not always founded upon in- telligible distinctions. And the general obscurity of the style, neither himself nor his assistants being good masters of the Latin language, which, at the best, is never flexible or copious enough for our philosophy, renders the perusal of both his great works too laborious for the im- patient reader. Brucker has well ob- served, that the Novum Organum has been neglected by the generality, and proved of far less service than it would otherwise have been in philosophy, in consequence of these very defects, as well as the real depth of the author's mind.* 80. What has been the fame of Bacon, "the wisest, greatest of man- Fameof kind," it is needless to say. What Bacon on has been his real influence over the Conli * mankind : how much of our en- "' larged and exact knowledge may be at- tributed to his inductive method ; what of this, again, has been due to a thorough study of his writings, and what to an indirect and secondary acquaintance with them, are questions of another kind, and less easily solved. Stewart, the philoso- pher who has dwelt most on the praises of Bacon, while he conceives him to have exercised a considerable influence over the English men of science in the seven- teenth century, supposes, on the authority of Montucla, that he did not " command the general admiration of Europe" till the publication of the preliminary discourse to the French Encyclopedia by Diderot and D'Alembert. This, however, is by * Legenda ipsa nobilissima tractatio ab illis est, qui in rerum naturalium inquisitione feliciter pro- gredi cupiunt. Qua si paulo plus luminis et per- spicuitatis haberet, et novorum terminorum et par- titionum artificio lectorem non remoraretur, longd plura, quam factum est, contulisset ad philosophiaa emendationem. His enim obstantibus a plerisque hoc organum neglectum est. Hist. Philos., v.. 99. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 69 much too precipitate a conclusion. He became almost immediately known on the Continent. Gassendi was one of his most ardent admirers. Descartes mentions him, I believe, once only, in a letter to Mer- senne in 1632 ;* but he was of all men the most unwilling to praise a contemporary. It may be said that these were philoso- phers, and that their testimony does not imply the admiration of mankind. But writers of a very different character men- tion him in a familiar manner. Richelieu is said to have highly esteemed Lord Ba- con, f And it may in some measure be due to this, that in the Sentimens de 1'Aca- demie Francaise sur le Cid he is alluded to, simply by the name Bacon, as one well known.! Voiture, in a letter to Costar, about the same time, bestows high eulogy on some passages of Bacon which his cor- respondent had sent to him, and observes that Horace would have been astonished to hear a barbarian Briton discourse in such a style. The treatise De Augmentis was republished in France in 1624, the year after its appearance in England. It was translated into French as early as 1632 ; no great proofs of neglect. Edi- tions came out in Holland, 1645, 1652, and 1662. Even the Novum Organum, which, as has been said, never became so popular as his other writings, was thrice printed in Holland, in 1645, 1650, and 1660.|| Leib- nitz and Puffendorf are loud in their ex- pressions of admiration, the former ascri- bing to him the revival of true philosophy as fully as we can at present.^ I should * Vol. vi., p. 210, edit. Cousin. t The only authority that I can now quote for this is not very good, that of Aubrey's Manuscripts, which 1 find in Seward's Anecdotes, iv., 328. But it seems not improbable. The same book quotes Balzac as saying : " Croyons done, pour 1'amour du Chancelier Bacon, que toutes les folies des anciens Bont sages ; et tous leurs songes mysteres, et de celles-la qui sont estimees pures fables, il n'y en a pas une, quelque bizarre et extravagante qu'elle soit, qui n'ait son fondement dans 1'histoire, si Von en veut croire Bacon, et qui n'ait ete deguisee de 15 sorte par les sages du vieux temps, pour la rendre plus utile aux peuples." t P. 44 (1633). J'ai trouve parfaitement beau tout ce que vons me mandez de Bacon. Mais ne vous semble t'il pas qu' Horace qui disoit, Visam Britannos hospiti- ous feros, seroit bien tonne d'entendre un barbare discourir comme cela? Costar is said by Bayle to have borrowed much from Bacon. La Mothe le Vayer mentions him in his Dialogues ; in fact, in- stances are numerous. II Montagu's Life of Bacon, p. 407. He has not mentioned an edition at Strasburg, 1635, which is in the British Museum. There is also an edition without time or place, in the catalogue of the British Museum. T Brucker, v.,95. Stewart says that "Bayle does not give above twehe lines to Bacon ;" but he calls VOL. II. M be more inclined to do-ubt whether he were adequately valued by his countrymen in his own time, or in-the immediately subse- quent period. Under the first Stuarts, there was little taste among studious, men but for theology, and chiefly for a theolo<- gy which, proceeding with an extreme deference to authority, could not but gen- erate a disposition of mind, even upon other subjects, alien to the progressive and inquisitive spirit of the inductive philoso- phy.* The institution of the Royal Socie- ty, or, rather, the love of physical science out of which that institution arose, in the second part of the seventeenth century, made England, resound with the name of her illustrious chancellor. Few now spoke of him without a kind of homage that only the greatest men receive. Yet still it was by natural philosophers alone that the wri- tings of Bacon were much studied. The editions of his works, except the Essays, were few; the Novum Organum never him one of the greatest men of his age, and the length of an article in Bayle was never designed to be a measure of the merit of its subject. * It is not uncommon to meet with persons, espe- cially who are or have been engaged in teaching oth- ers dogmatically what they have themselves received in the like manner, to whom the inductive philosophy appears a mere school of skepticism, or, at best, wholly inapplicable to any subjects which require entire conviction. A certain deduction from cer- tain premises is the only reason they acknowledge. This is peculiarly the case with theologians, but it is also extended to everything which is taught in a syn- thetic manner. Lord Bacon has a remarkable pas- sage on this in the 9th book De Augmentis. Post- quam articuli et principia religionis jam in sedibus suis fuerint locata, ita ut a rationis examine penitus eximantur, turn demum conceditur ab illis illationea derivare ac deducere, secundum analogiam ipsorum. In rebus quidem naturalibus hoc non tenet. Nam et ipsa principia examini subjiciuntur; per inducli- onem, inquam, licet minime per syllogismum. At- que eadem ilia nullam habent cum ratione repug- nantiam, ut ab eodem fonte cum prima? propositi- ones, turn mediae, deducantur. Aliter fit in religio- ne : ubi et primae propositiones authopystatee sunt, atque per se subsistentes ; et rursus non reguntur ab ilia ratione qua propositiones consequentes de- ducit. Neqne tamen hoc fit in religione sola, sed etiam in aliis scientiis, tam gravioribus, quam levi- oribus, ubi scilicet propositiones humanse placita sunt, non posita ; siquidem et in illis rationis usus absolntus esse non potest. Videmus enim in ludis, puta schaccorum, aut similibus, priores ludi normas et leges mer6 positivas esse, et ad placitum ; quai recipi, non in disputationem vocari, prorsus opor- teat ; ut vero vincas, et peritd lusum instituas, id ar- tificiosum est et rationale. Eodem modo fit et in legibus humanis ; in quibus haud paucae sunt maxi- ma 1 , ut loquuntur, hoc est, placita mera juris, qua auctoritate magis quam ratione nituntur, neque in disceptationem veniunt. Quid vero sit justissi- mum, non absolute, sed relative, hoc est ex analo- gi& illarum maximarum, id demum rationale est, et latum disputation! campum praebet. This passage, well weighed, may show us where, why, and by whom the synthetic and syllogistic methods ha,ve been preferred to the inductive and analytical. 90 LITERATURE OF EUROPE came separately from the English press.* They were not even much quoted ; for I believe it will be found that the fashion of referring to the brilliant passages of the De Augmentis and the Novum Organum, at least in books designed for the general reader, is not much older than the close of the last century. Scotland has the merit of having led the way; Reid, Stew- art, Robison, and Playfair turned that which had been a blind veneration into a rational worship ; and I should suspect that more have read Lord Bacon within these thirty years than in the two prece- ding centuries. It may be a usual con- sequence of the enthusiastic panegyrics lately poured upon his name, that a more positive efficacy has sometimes been at- tributed to his philosophical writings than they really possessed; and it might be asked whether Italy, where he was proba- bly not much known, were not the true school of experimental philosophy in Eu- rope ; whether his methods of investigation were not x"!vlofly such as men of sagacity and lovers of truth might simultaneously have devised. But, whatever may have been the case with respect to actual dis- coveries in science, we must give to writ- ten wisdom its proper meed ; no books prior to those of Lord Bacon carried man- kind so far on the road to truth ; none have obtained so thorough a triumph over arrogant usurpation without seeking to substitute another ; and he may be com- pared with those liberators of nations, who have given them laws by which they might govern themselves, and retained no hom- age but their gratitude. f SECTION III. * The De Augmentis was only once published after the first edition, in 1638. An indifferent trans- lation, by Gilbert Watts, came out in 1640. No edition of Bacon's Works was published in Eng- land before 1730; another appeared in 1740, and there have been several since. But they had been printed at Frankfort in 1665. It is unnecessary to observe that many copies of the foreign editions were brought to this country. This is mostly ta- ken from Mr. Montagu's account. t I have met, since this passage was written, with one in Stewart's Life of Reid, which seems to state the effects of Bacon's philosophy in a just and tem- perate spirit, and which I rather quote, because this writer has, by his eulogies on that philosophy, led some to an exaggerated notion. " The influence of Bacon's genius on the' subsequent progress of physical discovery has been seldom duly apprecia- ted ; by some writers almost entirely overlooked, and by others considered as the sole cause of the reformation in science which has since taken place. Of these two extremes, the latter certainly is the least wide of the truth : for in the whole history of letters no other individual can be mentioned whose exertions have had so indisputable an etfect in forwardinj the intellectual progress of mankind. On the other hand, it must be acknowledged that, be- fore the xra when Bacon appeared, various philoso- On the Metaphysical Philosophy of Descartes. 81. RENE DESCARTES was born in 1596, of an ancient family in Touraine. Early life of An inquisitive curiosity into the Descartes, nature and causes of all he saw is said to have distinguished his childhood, and this was certainly accompanied by an uncom- mon facility and clearness of apprehen- sion. At a very early age he entered the, college of the Jesuits at La Heche, and passed through their entire course of liter- ature and philosophy. It was now, at the age of sixteen, as he tells us, that he be- gan to reflect, with little satisfaction, on his studies, finding his mind beset with error, and obliged to confess that he had learned nothing but the conviction of his ignorance. Yet he knew that he had been educated in a famous school, and that he was not deemed behind his contempora- ries. The ethics, the logic, even the geometry of the ancients, did not fill his mind with that clear stream of truth for which he was ever thirsting. On leaving La Fleche, the young Descartes mingled for some years in the world, and served as a volunteer both under Prince Maurice and in the Imperial army. Yet during this period there were intervals when he withdrew himself wholly from society, and devoted his leisure to mathematical science. Some gennes, also, of his peculiar philosophy were already ripening in his mind. 82. Descartes was twenty-three years phers in different parts of Europe had struck into the right path ; and it may perhaps be doubted whether any one important rule with respect to the true method of investigation be contained in his works, of which no hint can be traced in those of his predecessors. His great merit lay in concen- trating their feeble and scattered lights ; fixing the attention of philosophers on the distinguishing char- acteristics of true and of false science, by a 1 felici- ty of illustration peculiar to himself, seconded by the commanding powers of a bold and figurative eloquence. The method of investigation which he recommended had been previously followed in every instance in which any solid discovery had been made with respect to the laws of nature ; but it had been followed accidentally and without any regular preconceived design ; and it was reserved for him to reduce to rule and method what others had effected either fortuitously, or from some mo- mentary glimpse of the truth. These remarks are not intended to detract from the just glory of Ba- con ; for they apply to all those, without exception, who have systematized the principles of any of the arts. Indeed, they apply less forcibly to him than to any other philosopher whose studies have been directed to objects analogous to his ; inasmuch as we know of no -art of which the rules have been reduced successfully into a didactic form, when the art itself was as much in infancy as experimental philosophy was when Bacon wrote." Account of Life and Writings of Reid, sect. 2. FROM JGOO TO 1650. 91 His beginning old when, passing a solitary to philosophize, winter in his quarters at Neu- burg on the Danube, he began to resolve in his mind the futility of all existing sys- tems of philosophy, and the discrepance of opinions among the generality of man- kind, which rendered it probable that no one had yet found out the road to real science. He determined, therefore, to set about the investigation of truth for him- self, erasing from his mind all precon- ceived judgments, as having been hastily and precariously taken up. He laid down for his guidance a few fundamental rules of logic, such as to admit nothing as true which he did not clearly perceive, and to proceed from the simpler notions to the more complex, taking the method of geom- eters, by which they had gone so much farther than others, for the true art of reasoning. Commencing, therefore, with the mathematical sciences, and observing that, however different in their subjects, they treat properly of nothing but the re- lations of quantity, he fell, almost acci- dentally, as his words seem to import, on the great discovery that geometrical curves may be expressed algebraically.* This gave him more hope of success in applying his method to other parts of philosophy. 83. Nine years more elapsed, during He retires which Descartes, though he quit- to Holland, ted military service, continued to observe mankind in various parts of Eu- rope, still keeping his heart fixed on the great aim he had proposed to himself, but, as he confesses, without having framed the scheme of any philosophy beyond those of his contemporaries. He deemed his time of life immature for so stupendous a task. But at the age of thirty-three, with little notice to his friends, he quitted Paris, convinced that absolute retirement was indispensable for that rigorous in- vestigation of first principles he now de- termined to institute, and retired into Hol- land. In this country he remained eight years, so completely aloof from the dis- tractions of the world that he concealed his very place of residence, though pre- serving an intercourse of letters with many friends in France. 84. In 1637 he broke upon the world His pubii- with a volume containing the Dis- cations. course upon Method, the Dioptrics, the Meteors, and the Geometry. It is only with the first that we are for the present concerned.! In tms discourse, the most in- teresting, perhaps, of Descartes' writings, on account of the picture of his life and of the progress of his studies that it fur- * CEuvres de Descartes, par Cousin, Paris, 1824, vol. i.,p. 143. f W, p. 121-212. nishes, we find the Cartesian metaphysics, which do not consist of many articles, al- most as fully detailed as in any of his later works. In the Meditationes de Prima Philosophia, published in Latin, 1641, these fundamental principles are laid down again more at length. He invited the criticism of philosophers on these famous Medita- tions. They did not refuse the challenge ; and seven sets of objections, from as many different quarters, with seven replies from Descartes himself, are subjoined to the later editions of the Meditations. The Principles of Philosophy, published in Latin in 1644, contains what may be reck- oned the final statement, which occupies most of the first book, written with un- common conciseness and precision. The beauty of philosophical style which dis- tinguished Descartes is never more seen than in this first book of the Principia, the translation of which was revised by Cler- selier, an eminent friend of the author. It is a contrast at once to the elliptical brev- ity of Aristotle, who hints, or has been supposed to hint, the most important posi- tion in a short clause, and to the verbose, figurative declamation of many modern metaphysicians. In this admirable perspi- cuity Descartes was imitated by his dis- ciples Arnaud and Malebranche, especially the former. His unfinished posthumous treatise, the " Inquiry after Truth by Nat- ural Reason," is not carried farther than a partial development of the same lead- ing principles of Cartesianism. There is, consequently, a great deal of apparent repetition in the works of Descartes, but such as, on attentive consideration, will show, not perhaps much real variance, but some new lights that had occurred to the author in the course of his reflections.* R5. In pursuing the examination of the first principles of knowledge, HO begins by Descartes perceived not only doubting ail. that he had cause to doubt of the various opinions he had found current among men, from that very circumstance of their va- riety, but that the sources of all that he had received for truth themselves, namely, the senses, had afforded him no indispu- table certainty. He began to recollect how often he had been misled by appearances, which had at first sight given no intimation * A work has lately been published, Essais Philo- sophiques, suivis de la Metaphysique, de Descartes resemblee et mise en ordre, par L. A. Gruyer, 4 vols., Bruxelles, 1832. In the fourth volume we find the metaphysical passages in the writings ol Descartes, including his correspondence, arranged methodically in his own words, but with the omis sion of a large part of the objections to the Medita tions and of his replies I did not, however, see thu work in time to make use of it. 92 LITERATURE OF EUROPE of their fallacy, and asked himself in vain, by what infallible test he could discern the reality of external objects, or, at least, their conformity to his idea of them. The strong impressions made in sleep led him to inquire whether all he saw and felt might not be in a dream. It was true that there seemed to be some notions more elementary than the rest, such as exten- sion, figure, duration, which could not be reckoned fallacious ; nor could he avoid owning that, if there were not an existing triangle in the world, the angles of one conceived by the mind, though it were in sleep, must appear equal to two right angles. But even in this certitude of demonstration he soon found something deficient ; to err in geometrical reasoning is not impossible: why might he not err in tins'! especially in a train of conse- quences, the particular terms of which are not at the same instant present to the mind. But, above all, there might be a superior being, powerful enough and will- ing to deceive him. It was no kind of answer to treat this as improbable, or as an arbitrary hypothesis. He had laid down as a maxim that nothing could be received as truth which was not demonstrable ; and in one place rather hyperbolically, and, in- deed, extravagantly in appearance, says that he made little difference between merely probable and false suppositions ; meaning this, however, as we may pre- sume, in the sense of geometers, who would say the same thing. 86. But, divesting himself thus of al His first belief in what the world deemec step in most unquestionable, plunged in knowledge. an a by ss , as it seemed for a time he soon found his feet on a rock, from which he sprang upward to an uncloudec sun. Doubting all things, abandoning al things, he came to the question, what is it that doubts and denies 1 ? Something it must be ; he might be deceived by a su- perior power, but it was he that was de- ceived. He felt his own existence ; the proof of it was that he did feel it ; that he had affirmed, that he now doubted, in a word, that he was a thinking substance Cogito; Ergo sum this famous en thy mem of the Cartesian philosophy veiled in rather formal language that which was to him, and must be to us all, the eterna basis of conviction, which no argumen can strengthen, which no sophistry can impair, the consciousness of a self within a percipient indivisible Ego.* The only * This word, introduced by .the Germans, o originally, perhaps, by the old Cartesians, is rathe awkward, but far less so than the English pronoui I, which is also equivocal in sound. Stewart ha roof of this is that it admits of no prool ; hat no man can pretend to doubt of his wn existence with sincerity, or to express a doubt without absurd and inconsistent anguage. 87. The skepticism of Descartes, it ap- ears, which is merely provision- His mind al, is not at all similar to that of not skepti- he Pyrrhonists, though some of cal - his arguments may have been shafts from heir quiver. Nor did he make use, which s somewhat remarkable, of the reason- ngs afterward employed by Berkeley against the material world, though no one more frequently distinguished than Des- artes between the objective reality, as it was then supposed to be, of ideas in the mind, and the external or sensible reality of things. Skepticism, in fact, was so far rom being characteristic of his disposi- tion, that his errors sprang chiefly from ;he opposite source, little as he was aware of it, from an undue positiveness in theo- ries which he could not demonstrate, or ven render highly probable.* 88. The certainty of an existing Ego easily led him to that of the op- He arrive8 erations of the mind, called af- at more terward by Locke ideas of reflec- certaint y- adopted it as the lesser evil, and it seems reason- able not to scruple a word so convenient, if not necessary, to express the unity of the conscious principle. If it had been employed earlier, I am apt to think that some great metaphysical extrava- gances would have been avoided, and some funda- mental truths more clearly apprehended. Fichte is well known to have made the grand division of Ich and Nicht Ich, Ego and Non Ego, the basis of his philosophy ; in other words, the difference of subjective and objective reality. * One of the rules Descartes lays down in his posthumous art of logic, is that we ought never to busy ourselves except about objects concerning which our understanding appears capable of acqui- ring an unquestionable and certain knowledge, vol. xi., p. 204. This is, at least, too unlimited a propo- sition, and would exclude, not indeed all probabili- ty, but all inquiries which must, by necessity, end in nothing more than probability. Accordingly, we find in the next pages that he made little account of any sciences but arithmetic and geometry, or such others as equal them in certainty. " From all this," he concludes, " we may infer, not that arithmetic and geometry are the only sciences which we must learn, but that he who seeks the road to truth should not trouble himself with any object of which he cannot have as certain a knowl- edge as of arithmetical or geometrical demonstra- tions." It is unnecessary to observe what havoc this would make with investigations, even in physics, of the highest importance to mankind. Beattie, in the essay on Truth, part ii., chap. 2, has made some unfounded criticisms on the skepti- cism of Descartes, and endeavours to turn into ridicule his Cogito ; ergo sum. Yet, if any one should deny his own or our existence, I do not see how we could refute him, were he worthy of refu- tation, but by some such language ; and, in fact, it is what Beattje himself says, more paraphrastically, in answering Hume. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 93 tion, the believing, doubting, willing, lov- ing, fearing, which he knew by conscious- ness, and, indeed, by means of which alone he knew that the Ego existed. He now proceeded a step farther ; and, reflect- ing on the simplest truths of arithmetic and geometry, saw that it was as impos- sible to doubt of them as of the acts of his mind. But as he had before tried to doubt even of these, on the hypothesis that he might be deceived by a superior intelligent i power, he resolved to inquire whether such a power existed, and if it did. whether it could be a deceiver. The affirmative of the former, and the negative of the latter question Descartes established by that extremely subtle reasoning so much cele- brated in the seventeenth century, but which has less frequently been deemed conclusive in later times. It is, at least, that which no man, not fitted by long practice for metaphysical researches, will pretend to embrace. 89. The substance of his argument was His proof this. He found within himself of a Deiiy. the idea of a perfect Intelligence, eternal, infinite, necessary. This could not come from himself, nor from external things, because both were imperfect, and there could be no more in the effect than there is in the cause. And this idea re- quiring a cause, it could have none but an actual being ; not a possible being, which is undistinguishable from mere nonentity. If, however, this should be denied, he in- quires whether he, with this idea of God, could have existed by any other cause if there were no God. Not, he argues, by himself; for if he were the author of his own being, he would have given himself every perfection ; in a word, would have been God. Not by his parents, for the same might be said of them, and so forth, if we remount to a series of productive beings. Besides this, as much power is required to preserve as to create, and the continuance of existence in the effect implies the continued operation of the cause. 90. With this argument, in itself suffi- Another ciently refined, Descartes blended proof of it. another still more distant from common apprehension. Necessary ex- istence is involved in the idea of God. All other beings are conceivable in their essence as things possible ; in God alone his essence and existence are inseparable. Existence is necessary to perfection ; hence a perfect being, or God, cannot be conceived without necessary existence. Though I do not know that I have mis- represented Descartes in this result of his very subtle argument, it is difficult not to treat it as a sophism. And it was always objected by his adversaries, that he infer- red the necessity of the thing from the necessity of the idea, which was the very point in question. It seems impossible to vindicate many of his expressions, from which he never receded in the controver- sy to which his meditations gave rise. But the long habit of repeating in his mind the same series of reasonings gave Des- cartes, as it will always do, an inward as- surance of their certainty, which could not be weakened by any objection. The former argument for the being of God, whether satisfactory or not, is to be dis- tinguished from the present.* * " From what is said already of the ignorance we are in of the essence of mind, it is evident that we are not able to know whether any mind may be necessarily existent by a necessity & priori founded in its essence, as we have showed time and space to be. Some philosophers think that such a neces- sity may be demonstrated of God from the nature of perfection. For God being infinitely, that is, ab- solutely perfect, they say he must needs be neces sarily existent ; because, say they, necessary exist- ence is one of the greatest of perfections. But I take this to be one of those false and imaginary ar- guments that are founded in the abuse of certain terms ; and of all others, this word perfection seems to have suffered most this way. I wish I could clearly understand what these philosophers mean by the word perfection, when they thus say that necessity of existence is perfection. Does per fection here signify the same thing that it does when we say that God is infinitely good, omnipo- tent, omniscient ? Surely perfections are properly asserted of the several powers that attend the es- sences of things, and not of anything else but in a very unnatural and improper sense. Perfection is a term of relation, and its sense implies a fitness or agreement to some certain end, and most properly to some power in the thing that is denominated per- fect. The term, as the etymology of it shows, is taken from the operation of artists. When an art- ist proposes to himself to make anything that shall be serviceable to a certain effect, his work is called more or less perfect, according as it agrees more or less with the design of the artist. From arts, by a similitude of sense, this word has been introduced into morality, and signifies that quality of an agent by which it is able to act agreeably to the- end its actions tend to. The metaphysicians, who reduce everything to transcendental considerations, have also translated this term into their science, and use it to signify the agreement that anything has with that idea which it is required that thing should an- swer to. This perfection therefore belongs to those attributes that constitute the essence of a thing ; and that being is properly called the most perfect which has all, the best, and each the com pletest in its kind of those attributes which can be united in one essence. Perfection therefore be- longs to the essence of things, and not properly U their existence ; which is not a perfection of any thing, no attribute of it, but only the mere constitu tion of it in rentm natura. Necessary existence, therefore, which is a mode of existence, is not 4 perfection, it being no attribute of the thing, no more than existence is, which it is a mode of. Bui it may be said that, though necessary existence i not a perfection in itself, yet it is so in its cause. HISTORY OF CHRISTIANITY. 91. From the idea of a perfect being iibdedoe- Descartes immediately deduced lions from the truth of his belief in an exter- tbu. na i W orld, and in the inferences of his reason. For to deceive his crea- tures would be an imperfection in God ; but God is perfect. Whatever, therefore, is clearly and distinctly apprehended by our reason, must be true. VV have only to be on our guard against our own pre- cipitancy and prejudice, or surrender of our reason to the authority of others. It is not by our understanding, such as God gave it to us, that we are deceived ; but the exercise of our free-will, a high pre- rogative of our nature, is often so incau- tious as to make us not discern truth from falsehood, and affirm or deny, by a volun- tary act, that which we do not distinctly apprehend. The properties of quantity, founded on our ideas of extension and number, are distinctly perceived by our 'minds, and hence the sciences of arithme- tic and geometry are certainly true. But when he turns his thoughts to the phe- nomena of external sensation, Descartes cannot wholly extricate himself from his original concession, the basis of his doubt, that the senses do sometimes deceive us. He endeavours to reconcile this with his own theory, which had built the certainty of all that we clearly hold certain on the perfect veracity of God. 92. It is in this inquiry that he reaches Primary and that important distinction be- secomiary tween the primary and second- tles - ary properties of matter, the latter being modifications of the former, relative only to our apprehension, but not upon account of that attribute of the entity from whence it flows; that that attribute must of all others be the most perfect and most excellent which necessary existence flows from, it being such as cannot be conceived otherwise than as existing. But what 'excellence, what perfection is there in all this ? Spnce is necessarily existent on account of extension, which cannot be conceived otherwise than as existing. But what perfection is there in space upon this account, which can in no manner art on anything, which is entirely devoid of all pow- er, wherein I have showed all perfections to con- sist ? Therefore necessary existence, abstractedly considered, is no perfection ; and, therefore, the idea of infinite perfeciion does not include, and con- sequently not prove, God to be necessarily exist- ence [sic]. If he be so, it is on account of those attributes of his essence which we have no knowl- edge of." 1 have made this extract from a very short tract, called Contemplatio Philosophica, by Brook Tay- lor, which I found in an unpublished memoir of his life printed bv the late Sir William Young in 1793. It bespeaks the clear and acute understanding of this celebrated philosopher, and appears to me an entire refutation of the scholastic argument of Des- cartes ; one more fit for the Anselms and such deal- ers \r. words, from whom it came, than for himself. inherent in things, which, without being wholly new, contradicted the Aristotelian theories of the schools;* and he remarked that we are never, strictly speakiug, de- ceived by our senses, but by the infer- ences which we draw from them. 93. Such is nearly the substance, ex- clusive of a great variety of more or less episodical theories, of the three mataphys- ical works of Descartes, the history of the soul's progress from opinion to doubt, and from doubt to certainty. Few would dispute, at the present day, that he has de- stroyed too much of his foundations to render his superstructure stable ; and to readers averse from metaphysical reflec- tion, he must seem little else than an idle theorist, weaving cobwebs for pastime which common sense sweeps away. It is fair, however, to observe, that no one was more careful than Descartes to guard against any practical skepticism in the af- fairs of life. He even goes so far as to maintain, that a man, having adopted any practical opinion on such grounds as seem probable, should pursue it with as much steadiness as if it were founded on de- monstration ; observing, however, as a general rule, to choose the most moder- ate opinions among those which he should find current in his own country f 94. The objections adduced against the Meditations are in a series of objections seven. The first are by a the- made to his ologian named Caterus, the sec- Wedltatlolls - ond by Mersenne, the third by Hobbes, the fourth by Arnauld, the fifth by Gas- sendi, the sixth by some anonymous wri- ters, the seventh by a Jesuit of the name of Bourdin. To all of these Descartes * See Stewart's First Dissertation on the Prog- ress of Philosophy. Thi." writer has justly observ- ed, that many persons conceive colour to be inherent in the object, so that the censure of Reid on Des- cartes and his followers, as having pretended to dis- cover what no one doubted, is at least unreasonable in this respect. A late writer has gone so far as to say : " Nothing at first can seem a more rational, obvious, and incontrovertible conclusion, than that the colour of a body is an inherent quality, like its weight, hardness, &c. ; and that to see the object, and to see it of its own colour, when nothing inter- venes between our eyes and it, are one and the same thing. Yet this is only a prejudice," &c. Her- schel's Discourse on Nat. Philos., p. 82. I almost even suspect that the notion of sounds and smells being secondary or merely sensible qualities, is not distinct in all men's minds. But after we are be- come familiar with correct ideas, it is not easy to revive prejudices in our imagination. In the same page of Stewart's Dissertation, he has been led, by dislike of the University of Oxford, to misconceive, in an extraordinary manner, a passage of Addison in the Guardian, which is evidently a sportive ridi- cule of the Cartesian theory, and is absolutely in applicable to the Aristotelian. t Vol. i., p. 147. Vol. iii., p. 04. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 95 leplied with spirit and acuteness. By far the most important controversy was with Gassendi, whose objections were stated more briefly, and, I think, with less skill, by Hobbes. It was the first trumpet in the new philosophy of an ancient war be- tween the sensual and ideal schools of pyschology. Descartes had revived, and placed in a clear light, the doctrine of mind, as not absolutely dependant upon the sen- ses, nor of the same nature as their ob- jects. Stewart does not acknowledge him as the first teacher of the soul's im- materiality. " That many of the school- men, and that the wisest of the ancient philosophers, when they described the mind as a spirit, or as a spark of celestial fire, employed these expressions, not with any intention to materialize its essence, but merely from want of more unexcep- tionable language, might be shown with demonstrable evidence, if this were the proper place for entering into the discus- sion."* But though it cannot be said that Descartes was absolutely the first who maintained the strict immateriality of the soul, it is manifest to any one who has read his correspondence, that the tenet, instead of being general, as we are apt to presume, was by no means in accordance with the common opinion of his age. The fathers, with the exception, perhaps the single one, of Augustin, had taught the corporeity of the thinking substance. Ar- nauld seems to consider the doctrine of Descartes as almost a novelty in modern times. " What you have written con- cerning the distinction between the soul and body appears to me very clear, very evident, and quite divine ; and, as nothing is older than truth, I have had singular pleasure to see that almost the same things have formerly been very perspicu- ously and agreeably handled by St. Au- gustin in all his tenth book on the Trinity, but chiefly in the tenth chapter."! But Arnauld himself, in his objections to the Meditations, had put it as at least ques- tionable, whether that which thinks is not something extended, which, besides th,e usual properties of extended substances, such as mobility and figure, has also this particular virtue and power of thinking.! The reply of Descartes removed the diffi- culties of the illustrious Jansenist, who became an ardent and almost complete disciple of the new philosophy. In a placard against the Cartesian philosophy, printed in 1647, which seems to have come from Revius, professor of theology * Dissertation, ubi suprik. t Descartes, x., 138. t Id., ii., 14. at Leyden, it is said : " As far as regards the nature of things, nothing seems to hin- der but that the soul may be either a sub- stance, or a mode of corporeal substance.' 1 * And More, who had carried on a meta- physical correspondence with Descartes, whom he professed to admire, at least at that time, above all philosophers that had ever existed, without exception of his fa- vourite Plato, extols him after his death in a letter to Clerselier, as having best es- tablished the foundations of religion. " For the Peripatetics," he says, " pretend that there are certain substantial forms ema- nating from matter, and so united to it that they cannot exist without it, to which these philosophers refer the souls of al- most all living beings, even those to which they allow sensation and thought ; while the Epicureans, on the other hand, who laugh at substantial forms, ascribe thought to matter itself; so that it is M. Descartes alone, of all philosophers, t who has at once banished from philosophy all these sub- stantial forms or souls derived from mat- ter, and absolutely divested matter itself of the faculty of feeling and thinking."! 95. It must be owned that the firm be- lief of Descartes in the immate- Theory or riality of the Ego or thinking memory and principle, was accompanied with iraa smauon. what, in later; times, would have been deemed rather too great concessions to the materialists. He held the imagina- tion and the memory to be portions of the brain, wherein the images of our sensa- tions are bodily received ; and even as- signed such a motive force to the imagi- nation as to produce those involuntary actions which we often perform, and all the movements of brutes. " This ex- * Vol. x , p. 73. f Vol.- x., p. 386. Even More seems to have been perplexed at one time by the difficulty of ac- counting for the knowledge and sentiment of dis- imbodied souls, and almost inclined to admit their corporeity. " J'aimerois mieux dire avec les Pla- toniciens, les anciens pe.res, et presque tous les philosophes, que les ames humaines, tous les g6nies tant bons que mauvais, sont corporels, et que par consequent ils out un sentiment i<$el, c'est a dire, qui leur vient du corps dont ils sont revetus." This is in a letter to Descartes in 1649, which I have not read in Latin (vol. x , p. 249). I do not quite un- derstand whether he meant only that the soul, when separated from the gross body, is invested with a substantial clothing, or that there is what we ma^ call an interior body, a supposed monad, to which the thinking principle is indissolubly united. This is what all materialists mean, who have any clear notions whatever ; it is a possible, perhaps a plausible, perhaps even a highly probable hypothe- sis, but one which will rrot prove their theory. The former seems almost an indispensable suppo sition, if we admit sensibility to phenomena at al) in the soul after dea'h ; but it is rather, perhaps, a theological than a r..etaphysical speculation. LITERATURE OF EUROPE plains how all the motions of all animals arise, though we grant them no knowledge of things, but only an imagination entirely j corporeal, and how all those operations j which do not require the concurrence of reason are produced in us." But the whole of his notions as to the connexion of the soul and body, and, indeed, all his physiological theories, of which he was most enamoured, do little credit to the Cartesian philosophy. They are among those portions of his creed which have lain most open to ridicule, and which it would be useless for us to detail. He seems to have expected more advantage to pyschology from anatomical research- es than, in that state of the science, or even, probably, in any future state of it, anatomy could afford. When asked once where was his library, he replied, showing a calf he was dissecting, This is my libra- ry.* His treatise on the passions, a sub- ject so important in the philosophy of the human mind, is made up of crude hypothe- ses, or, at best, irrelevant observations on their physical causes and concomitants. 96. It may be considered as a part of seat of the tn i s syncretism, as we may call BOU! in the it, of the material and immate- pineai gland. r j a i hypotheses, that Descartes fixed the seat of the soul in the conarion, or pineal gland, which he selected as the only part of the brain which is not double. By some mutual communication, which he did not profess to explain, though later metaphysicians have attempted to do so, the unextended intelligence, thus confined to a certain spot, receives the sensations which are immediately produced through impressions on the substance of the brain. If he did not solve the problem, be it re- membered that the problem has never since been solved. It was objected by a nameless correspondent, who signs him- self Hyperaspistes, that the soul, being incorporeal, could not leave, by its opera- tions, a trace on the brain, which his the- ory seemed to imply. Descartes answer- ed, in rather a remarkable passage, that as to things purely intellectual, we do not, properly speaking, remember them at all, as they are equally original thoughts ev- ery time they present themselves to the mind, except that they are habitually join- ed, as it were, and associated with certain names, which being bodily, make us re- member them.f * Descartes was very fond of dissection : C'est un exercise qQ je me suis souvent occupe depuis onze ans, et je crois qu'il n'y a guere de m^decins qui y ait regard^ de si pres que moi. Vol. viii., p. 100 ; also p 174 and 180. + This passage I must give in French, finding it 07. If the orthodox of the age were not yet prepared for a doctrine whicli _ j f , Gassendi's seemed so favourable, at least to attacks cm natural religion, as the immateri- theMedUa- ality of the soul, it may be readi- tlo " s> ly supposed that Gassendi, like Hobbes, had imbibed too much of the Epicurean theory to acquiesce in the spiritualizing principles of his adversary. In a sportive style he addresses him, O animal and Descartes, replying more angrily, retorts upon him the name O euro ! which he fre- quently repeats. Though we may lament such unhappy efforts at wit in these great men, the names do not ill represent the spiritual and carnal philosophies ; the school that produced Leibnitz, Kant, and Stewart, contrasted with that of Hobbes, Condillac, and Cabanis. 98. It was a matter of course that the vulnerable passages of the six superiority Meditations would not escape of Descartes, the spear of so skilful an antagonist as Gassendi. But many of his objections appear to be little more than cavils ; and, upon the whole, Descartes leaves me with the impression of his great superiority in metaphysical acuteness. It was, indeed, impossible that men should agree who persisted in using a different definition of the important word idea; and the same source of interminable controversy has flowed ever since for their disciples. Gassendi, adopting the scholastic maxim, " Nothing is in the understanding which has not been in the sense," carried it so much farther than those from whom it came, that he denied anything to be an idea but what was imagined by the mind. Descartes repeatedly desired both him and Hobbes, whose philosophy Avas built on the same notion, to remark that he meant by idea whatever can be conceived by the understanding, though not capable of being represented by the imagination.* very obscure, and having translated more according to what 1 guess than literally. Mais pour ce qui est des choses purement intellectuelles, a propre- ment parler on n'en a aucun ressouvenir ; et la pre- miere fois qu'elles se pvesentent a 1'esprit, on lea pense aussi bien que la seconde, si ce n'est peut-e'tre qu'elles ont coutume d'etre jointes et comme at- tachees a certains noms qui, etant corporels, font que nous nous ressouvenons aussi d'elles. VoL viii., p. 271. * Par le nom d'idee, il veut seulement qu'on en- tende ici les images des choses materielles depein tes en la fantaisie corporelle ; et cela etant suppose, il lui est ais6 de montrer qu'pn ne peut avoir propre et veritable idee de Dieu ni d'un ange ; mais j'ai souvent averti, et principalement en celui la me'me, que je prends le nom d'idee pour tout ce qui esl congu immediatement par 1'esprit ; en sorte que, lorsque je veux et que je crains, parceque je con- cois en meme temps que je veux et que je crains, ce vouloir et cette crainte sont mis par moi en nom- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 97 Thus we imagine a triangle, but we can only conceive a figure of a thousand sides ; we know its existence, and can reason about its properties, but we have no image whatever in the mind by which we can distinguish such a polygon from one of a smaller or .greater number of sides. Hobbes, in answer to this, threw out a paradox, which he has not, at least in so unlimited a manner, repeated, that by rea- son, that is, by the process of reasoning, we can infer nothing as to the nature of things, but only as to their names.* It is singular that a man, conversant at least with the elements of geometry, should have fallen into this error. For it does not appear that lie meant to speak -only of natural substances, as to which his lan- guage might seem to be a bad expression of what was afterward clearly shown by Locke. That the understanding can con- ceive and reason upon that which the im- agination cannot delineate, is evident not only from Descartes' instance of a poly- bre des idces ; et je me suis servi de ce mot, parce- tju'il etoit rieja comrnunetnent rec.u par les philoso- phes pour signifier les formes des conceptions de rentendernent divin, encore que nous ne reconnois- sions en Dieu aucune fantaisie on imagination cor- porelle, et je n'en savois point de plus propre. Et je pense avoir assez exphque 1'idee de Dieu pour ceux qni veulent conc.evoir les sens que je donne a mes paroles ; mais pour ceux qui s'attachent a les entendre autrement que je ne fais, je ne le pourrais iamais ass<-z. Vol. i., p. 404. This is in answer to Hobbes ; the objections of Hobbes, and Descartes' replies, turn very much on this primary difference between ideas as images, which alone our country- man could understand, and ideas as intellections, conceptions, vtovneva, incapable of being imagined, but not less certainly known and reasoned upon. The French is a translation, but made by Clerselier under the eye of Descartes, so that it may be quo tod as an original. * Que dirons nous maintenant si peu-tetre le rai sonnement n'est rien autre chose qu'un assemblage et un enchainemeut de noms par ce mot est ? D'ou il s'ensuivroit que par la raison nous ne concluons rien de tout touchant la nature des choses, mais seulemont touchant leurs appellations, c'est a dire que par elle nous voyons simplernent si nous as- semblons bien on mal les noms des choses selon les conventions que nous avons faites a notre fan- taisie touchant leurs significations, p. 476. Descar tes merely answered : L'assemblage qui se fail dans le raisonnement n'est pas celui des noms, mais bien celui des choses signifiees par les noms ; et je.in' etonne que le contraire puisse venir en 1'es- prit de personne. Descartes treated Hobbes, whom lie did not esteem, with less attention than his other correspondents. Hobbes could not understand what have been called ideas of reflection, such as fear, and thought it was 1 nothing more than the idea of the object feared. " For what else is the fear of a lion," he says, " than the idea of this lion, and the effect Which it produces in the heart, which leads us to run away ? But this running is not a thought ; so that nothing of thought exists in fear but the idea of the object." Descartes only replied, " it is self-evident that it is not the same thing to see a lion and fear him that it is to see him only," p. 483. VOL. II. N gon, but more strikingly by the whole theory of infinites, which are certainly somewhat more than bare words, what- ever assistance words may give us in ex- plaining them to others or to ourselves.* 99. Dugald Stewart has justly dwelt on the signal service rendered by Stevmt , g Descartes to psychological phi- remarks on losophy, by turning the mental ^cartes, vision inward upon itself, and accustoming us to watch the operations of our intellect, which, though employed upon ideas ob- tained through the senses, are as distin- guishable from them as the workman from his work. He has given, indeed, to Des- cartes a very proud title, Father of the experimental philosophy of the human mind, as if he were to man what Bacon was to nature.f By patient observation of what passed within him ; by holding his soul as it were an object in a microscope, * 1 suspect, from what I have since read, that Hobbes had a different, and what seems to me a very erroneous view of infinite, or infinitesimal quantities in geometry. For lie answers the old sophism of Zrno, Qnicquid dividi potest in partes infinitns est infinitum, in a manner which does not meet the real truth of the case : Dividi posse in partes infinites nihil aliud est quam dividi posse in partes quotcgnque quis velit. Logica sive Computa- tio, c. 5, p. 38 (edit. 1667). ' t Dissertation on Progress of Philosophy. The word experiment must be taken in the sense of ob- servation. Stewart very early took up his admira- tion for Descartes. " He was the first philosopher who stated in a clear and satisfactory manner the distinction between mind and matter, and who pointed out the proper plan for studying the intel- lectual philosophy. It is chiefly in consequence of his precise ideas with respect to this distinction that we may remark in all his metaphysical wri- tings a perspicuity which is not observable in those of any of his predecessors." Elem. of Philos. of Human Mind, vol. i. (published in 1792), note A. " When Descartes," he says in the dissertation be- fore quoted, ''established it as a general principle that nothing conceivable by the power of imagination could throw any light on the operations of thought, a principle which I consider as exclusively his own, lie hii'.l the foundations of the experimental philos- ophy of the human mind. That the same truth had been previously perceived more or less dis- tinctly by Bacon and others, appears probable from the general complexion of their speculations; but which of them has expressed it with equal precision, or laid it down as a fundamental maxim in their loeic ?" Tho words whicli 1 have put in italics seem too vaguely and not very clearly expressed, nor am I aware that they are borne out in their literal sense by any position of Descartes; nor do I apprehend the allusion to Bacon. But it is certain that Des- cartes, and still more his disciples Arnaud and Malebranche, take better care to distinguish what can be imagined from what can be conceived or un- derstood, than any of the school of Gassendi in this or other countries. One of the great merits ot Descartes as a metaphysical writer, not unconnect ed with this, is that he is generally careful to avoid figurative language in speaking of rneiital opera- tions, wherein he has much the advantage over Locke. LITERATURE OF EUROPE which is the only process of a good meta- physician, he became habituated to throw away those integuments of sense which hide us from ourselves. Stewart has cen- sured him for the paradox, as he calls it, that the essence of mind consists in think- ing, and that of matter in extension. That the act of thinking is as inseparable from the mind vis extension is from matter, cannot indeed be proved; since, as our thoughts are successive, it is not incon- ceivable that there may be intervals of duration between them ; but it can hardly be reckoned a paradox. But whoever should be led by the word essence to sup- pose that Descartes confounded the per- cipient thinking substance, the Ego, upon whose bosom, like that of the ocean, the waves of perception are raised by every breeze of sense, with the perception itself, or even, what is scarcely more tenable, with the reflective action or thought ; that he anticipated this strange paradox of Hume in his earliest work, from which he silently withdrew in his Essays, would not only do great injustice to one 6f the acutest understandings that ever came to the subject, but overlook several clear as- sertions of the distinction, especially in his answer to Hobbes. "The thought," he says, " differs from that which thinks, as the mode from the substance."* And Stewart has in his earliest work justly corrected Reid in this point as to the Cartesian doctrine. f 100. Several singular positions, which Paradoxes of have led to an undue deprecia- Descanes tion of Descartes in general as a philosopher, occur in his metaphysical writings. Such was his denial of thought, and, as is commonly said, sensation to. brutes, which he seems to have founded on the mechanism of the bodily organs ; a cause sufficient, in his opinion, to explain all the phenomena of the motions of ani- mals, and to obviate the difficulty of as- signing to them immaterial souls ;| his * Vol. i., p. 470. Arnaud objected, in a letter to Descartes, Comment se pent il faire que la pensee constitue I'essence de Tesprit^puisque 1'esprit est une substance, et qne la pensee seinble n'en etre qu'un mode? Descartes replied that thought in general, la pensee, ou la nature qui pense, in which he placed the essence of soul, was very different from such or such particular acts of thinking, vol. vi., p. 153, 100. t Philosophy of Human Mind, vol. i., note A. See the Principia, 63. } It is a common opinion that Descartes denied all life and sensibility to brutes. But this seems not so clear. 11 faut remarquer, he says in a letter to More, where he has been arguing against the ex- istence in brutes of any thinking principle, que je parle de la pensee. non de la vie, on du sentiment ; car je n'ote la vie a aucun animal, ne la faisant con- sister que dans la seule chaleur du coeur. Je ne rejection of final causes in the explanation of nature, as far above our comprehension, and unnecessary to those who had the in- ternal proof of "God's existence; his still more paradoxical tenet, that the truth of geometrical theorems, and every other axiom of intuitive certainty, depended upon the will of God; a notion that seems to be a relic of his original skepti- cism, but which he pertinaciously defends throughout his letters.* From remarkable leur refuse pas me'me le sentiment autant qu'il de- pend des organes du corps. Vol. x., p. 208. Jn a longer passage, if he docs not express himself very clearly, he admits passions in brutes, and it seems impossible that he could have ascribed passion? to what has no sensation. Much of what he here says is very good. Bien que Montaigne et Charron aient du, qu'il y a plus de difference d'homme a homme que d'homme a bete, il n'est toutefois jamais trouve aucune be'ie si parfaite, qu'elle ait use de quelqne signe pour faire entendre a d'autres animaux quel- que chose que n'eut point de rapport a ses passions ; et il n'y a point d'homme si irnparfait qu'il n'en use ; en sortequeceux qui sontsourdset muetsmventent des signes particuliers par lesquels ils expriment leur pensees; ce qui me semble un tres fort argu- ment pour prouver que ce qui fait que les be'tes ne parlcnt point comme nous, est qu'elles n'ont aucune pensee, et non point que les organes leur manquent. Et on ne peut dire qu'elles parlent entre elles, mais que nous ne les entendons pas; car contme les chiens et rjuelqties autrts animaux nous exprimtnt leurs pas- sions, ils nous exprimeroient aussi bien leurs pen- sees s'ils en avoient. Je sais bien que les be'tes font beaucoup de choses mieux qne nous, mais je ne m'en etonne pas; car cela me'me sert a prouver qu'elles agissent naturellement, et par ressorts, ainsi qu'un horloge ; laquelle montre bien mieux 1'heure qu'il est, que notre jugement nous 1'enseigne. . . On peut seulement dire que, bien que les be'tes ne fassent aucune action qui nous assure qu'elles pen- sent, toutefois, a causeque les organes de leurs corps ne sont pas fort difterens des notres, on peut conjecturer qu'il y a quelque pensee jointe a ces or- ganes, ainsi qne nous experimentons en nous, bien que la leur soil beaucoup moins parfaite ; a quoi je n'ai rien a repondre, si non que si elles pensoient aussi que nous, elles auroient une ame immortelle aussi bien qne nous ; ce qui n'est pas vraisemblable, a cause qu'il n'y a point de raison pour le croire de quelques animaux, sans le croire de tous, et qu'il y en a plusieurs trop imparfaits pour pouvoir croire cela d'eux, comme sont les huitres, les eponges, &c. Vol. ix., p. 425. I do not see the meaning of une ame immortelle in the last sentence; if the words had been une ame immaterielle, it would be to the purpose. More, in a letter to which this is a reply, had argued as if Descartes took brutes for insensible machines, and combats the paradox with the argu- ments which common sense furnishes. He would even have preferred ascribing immortality to them, as many ancient philosophers did. But surely Des cartes, who did not acknowledge any proofs of the immortality of the soul to be valid, except those founded on revelation, needed not to trouble him self much about this difficulty. * C'est en effet parler de Dieu comme d'un Jupi- ter ou d'nn Snturne, et 1'assujettir au Styx et aux destinees, que de dire que ces verites sont inde- pendantes de lui. Ne craignez point, je vous prie, d'assurer et de publier partout que c'est Dieu qui a etabli ces lois en la nature, ainsi qu'un roi etablit les lois en son royaume. Vol. vi., p. 109. He ar- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 99 errors men of original and independent genius are rarely exempt ; Descartes had pulled down an edifice constructed by the labours of near two thousand years, with great reason in many respects, yet, per- haps, with too unlimited a disregard of his predecessors ; it was his destiny, as it had been theirs, to be sometimes refuted and depreciated in his turn. But the single fact of his having first established, both in philosophical and popular belief, the im- materiality of the soul, were we even to forget the other great accessions which he made to psychology, would declare the influence he has had on human opinion. From this immateriality, however, he did not derive the tenet of its immortality. He was justly contented to say, that from the intrinsic difference between mind and body, the dissolution of the one could not necessarily take away the existence of the other, but that.it was for God to determine whether it should continue to exist; and this determination, as he thought, could only be learned from his revealed will. The more powerful arguments, according to general apprehension, which reason af- fords for the sentient being of the soul after death, did not belong to the meta- physical philosophy of Descartes, and would never have been very satisfactory to his mind. He says in one of his let- ters, that, " laying aside what faith assures us of, he owns that it is more easy to make conjectures for our own advantage and entertain promising hopes, than to feel any confidence iu their accomplish- ment."* 101. Descartes was perhaps the first His just no- who saw that definitions of tipn of defi- words, already as cloar as they nuions. ean jj e ma( j ej are nugatory or impenetrable. This alone would distin- guish his philosophy from that of the Aristotelians, who had wearied and con- fused themselves for twenty centuries with unintelligible endeavours to grasp by definition what refuses to be defined. " Mr. Locke," says Stewart, " claims this improvement as entirely his own, but the merit of it unquestionably belongs to Des- cartes, although it must be owned that he has not always sufficiently attended to it in his researches.''! A still more decisive gues as strenuously the same point in p. 132 and p. 307. * Vol.ix., p. 369. t Dissertation, uhi suprJu Stewart, in his Philo- sophical Essays, note A, had censured Reid for as- signing this remark to Descartes and Locke, but without giving any better reason than that it is found in a work written by Lord Stair ; earlier, certainly, than Locke, but not before Descartes. It may be doubtful, as we shall see hereafter, whether Locke has not gone beyond Descartes, or, passage to this effect than that referred to by Stewart in the Principia will be found in the posthumous dialogue on the Search after Truth. It is objected by one of the interlocutors, as it had actually been by Gassendi, that, to prove his existence by the act of thinking, he must first know what existence and what thought is. " I agree with you," the representative of Descartes replies, " that it is necessary to know what doubt is, and what thought is, before we can be fully persuaded of this reasoning ; I doubt, therefore I am, or, what is the same thing, I think, there- fore I am. But do not imagine that for this purpose you must torture your mind to find out the next genus, or the essen- tial differences, as the logicians talk, and so compose a regular definition. Leave this to such as teach or dispute in the schools. But whoever will examine things by himself, and judge of them according to his understanding, cannot be so sense- less as not to see clearly, when he pays attention, what doubting, thinking, being are, and as to have any need to learn their distinctions. Besides, there are things which we render more obscure in at- tempting to define them, because, as they are very simple and very clear, we cannot know and comprehend them better than by themselves. And it should be reckon- ed among the chief errors that can be committed in science for men to fancy that they can define that which they can only conceive, and distinguish what is clear in it from what is obscure, while they do not see the difference between that which must be defined before it is understood, and that which can be fully known by itself. Now, among things which can thus be clearly known by them- selves, we must put doubting, thinking, being. For I do not believe any one ever existed so stupid as to need to know what being is before he could affirm that he is ; and it is the same of thought and doubt. Nor can he learn these things except by himself, nor be convinced of them but by his own experience, and by that con- sciousness and inward witness which ev- ery man finds in himself when he exam- ines the subject. And as we should de- fine whiteness in vain to a man who can see nothing, while one who can open his eyes and see a white object requires no more, so to know what doubting is, and what thinking is, it is only necessary to doubt and to think."* Nothing could more tend to cut short the verbal cavils of the schoolmen than this limitation of at least, distinguished undefinable words more strictly. * Vol. xi., p. 369. 100 LITERATURE OF EUROPE their favourite exercise, definition. It is due, therefore, to Descartes, so often ac- cused of appropriating the discoveries of others, that we should establish his right to one of the most important that the new logic has to boast. 102. He seems, at one moment, to His notion or have been on the point of taking substances another step very far in ad- vance of his age. " Let us take," he says, " a piece of wax from the honey- comb ; it retains some taste and smell ; it is hard ; it is cold ; it has a very marked colour, form, and size. Approach it to the fire ; it becomes liquid, warn), inodor- ous, tasteless; its form and colour are changed ; its size is increased. Does the same wax remain after these changes ? It must be allowed that it does ; no one doubts it, no one thinks otherwise. What was it, then, that we so distinctly knew to exist in this piece of wax ] Nothing, ' certainly, that we observed by the senses, since all that the taste, the smell, the sight, the touch reported to us has disap- peared, and still the same wax remains." This something which endures under ev- ery change of sensible qualities cannot be imagined ; for the imagination must rep- resent some of these qualities, and none of them are essential to the thing ; it can only be conceived by the understanding.* 103. It may seem almost surprising to not quite us, after the writings of Locke and correct. j u ' s followers on the one hand, and the chymist with his crucible on the oth- er, have chased these abstract substances of material objects from their sanctuaries, that a man of such prodigious acuteness and intense reflection as Descartes should not have remarked that the identity of wax after its liquefaction is merely nomi- nal, and depending on arbitrary language, which in many cases gives new appella- tions to the same aggregation of particles after a change of their sensible qualities ; and that all we call substances are but aggregates of resisting moveable corpus- cles, which, by the laws of nature, are ca- pable of affecting our senses differently, according to the combinations they may enter into, and the changes they may suc- cessively undergo. But, if he had dis- tinctly seen this, which I do not appre- hend that he did, it is not likely that he would have divulged the discovery. He had already given alarm to the jealous spirit of orthodoxy by what now appears to many so self-evident, that they have treated the supposed paradox as a trifling with words the doctrine that colour, heat, smell, and other secondary qualities, or accidents of bodies, do not exist in them, but in our own minds, and are the effects of their intrinsic or primary qualities. It was the tenet of the schools that these were sensible realities, inherent in bodies ; and the Church held as an article of faith, that the substance of bread being with- drawn from the consecrated wafer, the accidents of that substance remained as before, but independent, and not inherent in any other. Arnauld raised this objec- tion, which Descartes endeavoured to re- pel by a new theory of transubstantia- tion ; but it always left a shade of suspi- cion, in the Catholic Church of Rome, on the orthodoxy of Cartesianism. 104. " The paramount and indisputable authority which, in all our rea- IIis notion8 sonings concerning the human of intuitive mind, he ascribes to the evidence truth - of consciousness," is reckoned by Stewart among the great merits of Descartes. It is certain that there are truths which we know, as it is called, intuitively, that is, by the mind's immediate inward glance. And reasoning would be interminable if it did not find its ultimate limit in truths which it cannot prove. Gassendi imputed to Descartes, that, in his fundamental en- thymem, Cogito, ergo sum, he supposed a knowledge of the major premise, Quod cogitat, est. But Descartes replied that it was a great error to believe that our knowledge of particular propositions must always be deduced from universals, ac- cording to the rules of logic ; whereas, on the contrary, it is by means of our knowl- edge of particulars that we ascend to generals, though it is true that we descend again from them to infer other particular propositions.* It is probable that Gas- sendi did not make this objection very seriously. 105. Thus .the logic of Descartes, using that word for principles that guide our reasoning, was an instrument of defence both against the captiousness of ordinary skepticism, that of the Pyrrhonic school, and against the disputatious dogmatism of those who professed to serve under the banner of Aristotle. He who reposes on his own consciousness, or who recurs to first principles of intuitive knowledge, though he cannot be said to silence his adversary, should have the good sense to be silent himself, which puts equally an end to debate. But, so far as we are con- cerned with the investigation of truth, the Cartesian appeal to our own conscious- Meditation Seconde, i., 256. * Vol. ii., p. 305. See, too, the passage quoted above, in his posthumous dialogue, FROM 1600 TO 1650. It)! ii^-ss, of which Stewart was very fond, just as it is in principle, may end in an assumption of our own prejudices as the standard of belief. Nothing can be truly self-evident but that which a clear, an honest, and an experienced under- standing in another man acknowledges to be so. 106. Descartes has left a treatise high- Treatise on ly valuable, but not very much an of logic, known, on the art of logic, or rules for the conduct of the understand- ing.* Once only, in a letter, he has al- luded to the name of Bacon. f There are, perhaps, a few passages in this short tract that remind us of the Novum Organum. But I do not know that the coincidence is such as to warrant a suspicion that he was indebted to it; we may reckon it rather a parallel than a derivative logic ; written in the same spirit of cautious, in- ductive procedure, less brilliant and origi- nal in its inventions, but of more general application than the Novum Organum, which is with some difficulty extended beyond the province of natural philosophy. Descartes is as averse as Bacon to syllo- gistic forms. "Truth," he says, "often escapes from these fetters, in which those who employ them remain entangled. This is less frequently the case with those who * M. Cousin has translated and republished two works of Descartes, which had only appeared in OperajPosthuma Cartesii, Amsterdam, 1702. Their authenticity, from external and intrinsic proofs, is out of question. One of these is that mentioned in the text ; entitled " Rules for the Direction of the Understanding ;" which, though logical in its sub- ject, takes most of its illustrations from mathe- matics. The other is a dialogue, left imperfect, in which he sustains the metaphysical principles of his philosophy. Of these two little tracts their editor has said, that " they equal in vigour, and perhaps surpass in arrangement, the Meditations and Discourse on Method. We see in these more unequivocally the main object of Descartes, and the spirit of the revolution which has created mod- ern philosophy, and placed in the understanding itself the principle of all certainty, the point of de- parture for all legitimate inquiry. They might seem written but yesterday, and for the present age." Vol. xi., preface, p. 1. I may add to this, that I consider the Rules for the Direction of the Understanding 1 as one of the best works on logic (in the enlarged sense) which I have ever read ; more practically useful, perhaps, to young students than the Novum Organum ; and though, as 1 have said, his illustrations are chiefly mathematical, most of his rules are applicable to the general dis- cipline of the reasoning powers. It occupies little more than one hundred pages, and I'think that 1 am doing a service in recommending it. Many of the rul^s will, of course, be found in later books ; some possibly in earlier. This tract, as well as the dia- logue which follows it, is incomplete, a portion be- ing probably lost. t Si quelqu'un de celte humeur vouloit entre- prendre d'ecrire 1'histoire des apparences celestes selon la methode de Verulamius. Vol. vi., p. 210. make no use of logic, experience showing that the most subtle of sophisms cheat none but sophists themselves, not those who trust to their natural reason. And to convince ourselves how little this syl- logistic art serves towards the discovery of truth, we may remark that the logicians can form no syllogism with a true conclu- sion, unless they are already acquainted with the truth that the syllogism develops. Hence it follows that the vulgar logic is wholly useless to him who would discover truth for himself, though it may assist in explaining to others the truth he already knows, and that it would be better to transfer it as a science from philosophy to rhetoric."* 107. It would occupy too much space to point out the many profound Merits of his and striking thoughts which this writings, treatise on the conduct of the understand- ing, and, indeed, most of the writings of Descartes, contain. " The greater part of the questions on which the learned dispute are but questions of words. These occur so frequently, that, if philosophers would agree on the signification of their words, scarce any of their controversies would remain." This has been continually said since ; but it is a proof of some progress in wisdom, when the original thought of one age becomes the truism of the next. No one had been so much on his guard against the equivocation of words, or knew so well their relation to the operations of the mind. And it may be said generally, though not without exception, of the meta- physical writings of Descartes, that we find in them a perspicuity which springs from his unremitting attention to the logi- cal process of inquiry, admitting no doubt- ful or ambiguous position, and never re- quiring from his reader a deference to any authority but that of demonstration. It is a great advantage in reading such writers that we are able to discern when they are manifestly in the wrong. The sophisms of Plato, of Aristotle, of the schoolmen, and of a great many recent metaphy- sicians, are disguised by their obscurity^; and while they creep insidiously into the mind of the reader, are always denied and explained away by partial disciples. 108. Stewart has praised Descartes for having recourse to the evidence His notions of consciousness in order to prove of free-will, the liberty of the will. But he omits to tell us that the notions entertained by this philosopher were not such as have been generally thought compatible with free agency in the only sense that admits of * Vol. xi., p. 255 102 LITERATURE OF EUROPE controversy. It was an essential part of I the theory of Descartes, that God is the ! cause of all human actions. " Before God sent us into the world," he says in a let- ter, " he knew exactly what all the incli- nations of our will would be ; it is he that has implanted them in us ; it is he also that has disposed all other things, so that such or such objects should present them- selves to us au such or such times, by means of which he has known that our free-will would determine us to such or such actions, and he has willed that it should be so ; but he has not willed to compel us thereto."* " We could not demonstrate," he says at another time, " that God exists, except by considering him as a being absolutely perfect; and he could not be absolutely perfect if there could happen anything in the world which did not spring entirely from him. . . Mere philosophy is enough to make us know that there cannot enter the least thought into the mind of man, but God must will and have willed from all eternity that it should enter there, "f This is in a letter to his highly intelligent friend, the Prin- cess Palatine Elizabeth, granddaughter of James I. ; and he proceeds to declare him- self strongly in favour of predestination, denying wholly any particular providence, to which she had alluded, as changing the decrees of God, and all efficacy of prayer, except as one link in the chain of his de- terminations. Descartes therefore, what- ever some of his disciples may have be- come, was far enough from an Arminian theology. " As to free-will," he says else- where, " I own, that thinking only of our- selves, we cannot but reckon it independ- ent ; but when we think of the infinite pow- er of God, we cannot but believe that all things depend on him, and that, conse- quently, our free-will must do so too. . . But since our knowledge of the existence of God should not hinder us from being as- sured of our free-will, because we feel and are conscious of it in ourselves, so that of our free-will should not make us doubt of the existence of God. For the inde- pendence which we experience and feel in ourselves, and which is sufficient to make our actions praiseworthy or blame- able, is not incompatible with a depend- ance of another nature, according to which all things are subject to God."j 109. A system so novel, so attractive to * Vol. is., p. 374. f Id., p. 246. JVol. ix., p. 368. This had originally been sta- in the Principia with less confidence, the free- will of man and predetermination of God being both asserted as true, but their coexistence incom- prehensible, Vol. iii., p. 86. the imagination by its bold and , .,,. T * .1 . /. rameof his brilliant paradoxes as that of system, and Descartes, could not but excite attacks upon the attention of an age already "' roused to the desire of a new philosophy, and to the scorn of ancient authority. His first treatises appeared in French ; and, though he afterward employed Latin, his works were very soon translated by his disciples, and under his own care. He wrote in Latin with great perspicuity ; in French with liveliness and elegance. His mathematical and optical writings gave him a reputation which envy could not take away, and secured his philosophy from that general ridicule which some- times overwhelms an obscure author. His very enemies, numerous and vehement as they were, served to enhance the celebrity of the Cartesian system, which he seems to have anticipated by publishing their ob- jections to his Meditations with his own replies. In the universities, bigoted for the most part to Aristotelian authority, he had no chance of public reception ; but the influence of the universities was much diminished in France, and a new theory ha.d perhaps better chances in its favour on account of their opposition. But the Jesuits, a more powerful body, were in general adverse to the Cartesian system, and especially some time afterward, when it was supposed to have the countenance of several leading Jansemsts. The Epi- curean school, led by Gassendi and Hobbes, presented a formidable phalanx ; since it, in fact, comprehended the wits of the world, the men of indolence and sensuali- ty, quick to discern the many weaknesses of Cartesianism, with no capacity for its excellences. It is unnecessary to say how predominant this class was in the sev- enteenth and eighteenth centuries, both in France and England. 110. Descartes was evidently in con- siderable alarm lest the Church controversy should bear with its weight withvoet. upon his philosophy.* He had the cen- sure on Galileo before his eyes, and cer- tainly used some chicane of words as to the earth's movement upon this account. It was, however, in the Protestant coun- try, which he had chosen as his harbour of refuge, that he was doomed to encoun- ter the roughest storm. Gisbert Voet, an * On a tellement assujetti la theologie a. Aris- totle, qu'il est impossible d'expliquer une antre phi- losophie qu'il ne semble d'abord qu'elle soil contre la foi. Et a-propos de ceci, je vous prie de me mander s'il n'y a rien de determine en la foi tou- chant 1'etendue du monde: savoir s'il est fini ou plu- tot infini, et si tout ce qu'on appelle espaces imagi- nairessoient des corps crees et veritables. Vol. vi.. p. 73. FROM 1GOO TO 1650. 103 eminent theologian in the University of Utrecht, and the head of the party in the Church of Holland, which had been victo- rious in the Synod of Dort, attacked Des- cartes with all the virulence and bigotry characteristic of his school of divinity. The famous demonstration of the being of God he asserted to be a cover for athe- ism, and thus excited a flame of contro- versy, Descartes being not without sup- porters in the University, especially Re- gius, professor of medicine. The philos- opher was induced, by these assaults, to change his residence from a town in the province of Utrecht to Leyden. Voet did not cease to pursue him with outra- geous calumny, and succeeded in obtain- ing decrees of the senate and University, which interdicted Regius from teaching that "new and unproved (praesumpta) phi- losophy" to his pupils. The war of libels on the Voetian side did not cease for some years, and Descartes replied with no small acrimony against Voet himself. The latter had recourse to the civil pow- er, and instituted a prosecution against Descartes, which was quashed by the in- terference of the Prince of Orange. But many in the University of Leyden, under the influence of a notable theologian of that age, named Triglandius, one of the stoutest champions of Dutch orthodoxy, raised a cry against the Cartesian philos- ophy as being favourable to Pelagianism and popery, the worst names that could be given in Holland ; and it was again through the protection of the Prince of Orange that he escaped a public censure. Regius, the most zealous of his original advocates, began to swerve from the fidel- ity of a sworn disciple, and published a book containing some theories of his own, which Descartes thought himself olliged to disavow. Ultimately he found, like many benefactors of mankind, that he had purchased reputation at the cost of peace ; and, after some visits to France, where, probably from the same cause, he never designed to settle, found an honourable asylum and a premature death at the court of Christina. He died in 1651, having worked a more important change in spec- ulative philosophy than any who had pre- ceded him since the revival of learning ; for there could be no comparison in that age between the celebrity and effect of his writings and those of Lord Bacon. The latter had few avowed enemies till it was too late to avow enmity.* * The life of Dcartes was written, very fully and with the warmth of a disciple, by Baillet, in two volumes quarto, 1691, of which he afterward published an abridgment. In this we find at length 111. The prejudice against Desc"rtes, especially in his own country, charges of was aggravated by his indiscreet P la g'ansm. and not very warrantable assumption of perfect originality.* No one, I think, can fairly refuse to own that the Cartesian metaphysics, taken in their consecutive ar- rangement, form truly an original system ; and it would be equally unjust to deny the splendid discoveries he developed in alge- bra and optics. But upon every one sub- ject which Descartes treated, he has not escaped the charge of plagiarism ; pro- fessing always to be ignorant of what had been done by others, he falls perpetually into their track ; more, as his adversaries maintained, than the chances of coinci- dence could fairly explain. Leibnitz has Slimmed up the claims of earlier writers to the pretended discoveries of Descar- tes ; and certainly it is a pretty long bill to be presented to any author. I shall in- sert this passage in a note, though much of it has no reference to this portion of the Cartesian philosophy.! It may, per- the attacks made on him by the Voetian theologi- ans. Brucker has given a long and valuable ac- count of the Cartesian philosophy, but not favour- able, and perhaps not quite fair. Vol. v., p. 200- 334. Buhle is, as usual, much inferior to Brucker. But those who omit the mathematical portion will not find the original works of Descartes very long, and they are well worthy of being read. * I confess, he says in his logic, that I was born with such a temper, that the chief pleasure I find in study is not from learning the arguments of oth- ers, but by inventing my own. This disposition alone impelled me in youth to the study of science ; hence, whenever a new book promised by its title some new discovery, before sitting down to read it, 1 used to try whether my own natural sagacity could lead me to anything of the kind, and 1 took care not to lose this innocent pleasure by too hasty a perusal. This answ <,red so often that 1 at length perceived that I arrived at truth, not as other men do, after blind and precarious guesses, by good luck rather than skill, but that long experience had taught rne certain fixed rules, which were of sur- prising utility, and of which I afterward made use to discover more truths. Vol. xi , p. 252. t Dogmata ejus metaphysica, velut circa ideas a sensibus remotas, et animae distinctionem a corpore, et fluxam per se rerum rnatenalium fidem, prorsus Platonica sunt. Argumentum pro existentia Dei, ex eo, quod ens perfectissimum, vel quo majus in- telligi non potest, existentiam includit, fui Anselmi, et in libro " Contra insipientern" inscripto extat in- ter ejus opera, passimque ascholasticis examinatur. In doctrina de continuo, pleno et loco Aristotelem noster secutus est, Stoicosque in re morali penitus expressit, floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant. In explicatione rerum mechanica Leucippum et Democritum praaeuntes habuit, qui et vortices ipsos jam docuerant. Jordanus Brunus easdem fere de magnitudine universi ideas habuisse dicitur, quern- admodum et notavit V. CC. Stephanus Spleissius, ut de Gilberto ml dicatn, cujus magnetica? consid- erationes turn per se, turn ad systema universi ap- phcatao, Cartesio plurimum profuerunt. Explica- tionem gravitatis per materias solidioris rejectionem in tangente, quod in physica Cartesiana prope pul- 104 LITERATURE OF EUROPE haps, be thought by candid minds that we I cannot apply the doctrine of chances to coincidence of reasoning in men of acute and inquisitive spirits as fairly as we may \ to that of style or imagery ; but if we hold strictly that the older writer may claim the exclusive praise of a philosoph- ical discovery, we must regret to see such a multitude of feathers plucked from the wing of an eagle. 112. The name of Descartes as a great Recent in- metaphysical writer has revived crease of his in some measure of late years ; fame. an( j this has been chiefly owing, among ourselves, to Dugald Stewart ; in France, to the growing disposition of their philosophers to cast away their idols of the eighteenth century. " I am disposed," rherrimum est, didicit ex Keplero, qui similitudine palearum motu aquae in vase gyrantis ad centrum contrursarum rem explicuit primus. Actionein lu- cis in distans, similitudine baculi pressi jam veteres adutnbravere. Circa iridem a M. Antonio de Dpm- inis non parum lucis accepit. Keplerum fuisse primum suum in dioptricis magistrum, et in eo ar- gumento omnes ante se mortales Ipngo intervallo antegressum, fatetur Cartesius in epistolis familiar- ibus ; nam in scriptis, quae ipse edidit, longe abest a tali confessione aut laude, tametsi ilia ratio, quae rationum directionem explicat, ex compositione nimirum duplicis conatus perpendicularis ad super- iiciem et ad eandem parallel!, disertfe apud Keple- rum extet, qui eodem, ut Cartesius, modo aequali- tatem angulorum incidentiae et reflexionis hinc de- ducit. Idque gratam mentionem ideo merebatur, quod omnis prope Cartesii ratiocinatio huic inriiti- tur principio. Legem refractionis primum invenisse Willebroodum Snellium, Isaacus Vossius patefecit, quanquam non ideo negare ausim, Cartesiurn in eadem incidere potuisse de sno. Negavit in Epis- tolis Vietam sibi lectum, sed Thomas Harrioti An- gli libros analyticos posthumos anno 1631 editos vidisse multi vix dubitant ; usque adeo magnus est eprum consensus cum calculo geometriae Carte- sianae. Sane jam Harriotus asquationem nihilo squalem posuit, et hinc derivavit, quomodo oriatur aequatio ex multiplicatione radicum in se invicem, et quomodo radiorum auctione, diminutione, multi- plicatione aut divisione variari jequatio possit, et quomodo proinde natura, etconstitutio aequationum et radicum cognosci possit ex terminorum habitu- dine. Itaque narrat celeberrirnus Wallisius, Kober- valium, qui miratus erat, unde Cartesio in rnentem venisset palmarium illud, aequationem ponere squa- lem nihilo ad instar unius quantitatis, ostenso sibi a Domino de Cavendish libro Harrioti exclarnasse, il 1'a vu ! il 1'a vu ! vidit, vidit. Reductionem quadrato-quadratae asquationis ad cubicam superipri jam sasculo invenit Ludpvicus Ferrarius, cujus vitarn reliquit Cardanus ejns familiaris. Denique fuit Cartesius, ut a viris doctis dudum notatum est, et ex epistolis nimium apparet, immodicus con- temptor aliorum, et famae cupiditate abartificiis non abstinens, qu33 parum generosa videri possunt. At- que hsec profecto non dico animo obtrectandi viro, quem mirific^ aestimo, sed eo consilio, ut cuique suum tribuatur, nee unus omnium laudes absorbeat ; justissirnum enim est, ut inventoribus suus honos cpnstet, nee sublatis virtutum praemiis praeclara fa- ciendi studiium refrigescat. Leibnitz apud Bruck- er,7.,255 says our Scottish philosopher, " to dale the origin of the true philosophy of mind from the Principia (why not the earlier works 1) of Descartes, rather than from the Organum of Bacon or the Essays of Locke ; without, however, meaning to compare the French author with our two countrymen, either as a contributor to our stock of facts relating to the intellect- ual phenomena, or as the author of any important conclusion concerning the gen- eral laws to which they may be referred." The excellent edition by M. Cousin, in which alone the entire works of Descartes can be found, is a homage that France has recently offered to his memory, and an important contribution to the studious both of metaphysical and mathematical philosophy. I have made use of no oth- er, though it might be desirable for the in- quirer to have the Latin original at his side, especially in those works which have not been seen in French by their author. SECTION IV. On the Metaphysical Philosophy of Hobbes. 113. THE metaphysical philosophy of Hobbes was promulgated in his Metapiiysi- treatise on Human Nature, which cai treatises appeared in 1650. This, with his of other works, De Give and De Corpore Po- litico, were fused into that great and gen- eral system, which he published in 1651, with the title of Leviathan. The first part of the Leviathan, " Of Man," follows the several chapters of the treatise on Human Nature with much regularity ; but so numerous are the enlargements or omissions, so great is the variance with which the author has expressed the same positions, that they should much rather be considered as two works than as two editions of the same. They differ more than Lord Bacon's treatise De Augmentis Scientiarum does from his Advancement of Learning. I shall, however, blend the two in a single analysis, and this I shall generally give, as far as is possible, con- sistently with my own limits, in the very words of Hobbes. His language is so lu- cid and concise, that it would be almost as improper to put an algebraical process in different terms as some of his meta- physical paragraphs. But, as a certain degree of abridgment cannot be dispensed with, the reader must not take it for granted, even where mverted commas denote a closer attention to the text, that nothing is omitted, although, in such cases, FROM 1600 TO 1650. 105 I never hold it permissible to make any change. 114. All single thoughts, it is the prima- His theory of ry tenet of Hobbes, are repre- eensatioa sentations or appearances of some quality of a body without us, which is commonly called an object. " There is no conception in a man's mind which hath not at first totally, or by parts, been be- gotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are derived from that original."* In the treatise on Human Nature he dwells long on the immediate causes of sensa- tion ; and. if no alteration had been made in his manuscript since he wrote his dedi- cation to the Earl of Newcastle in 1640, he must be owned to have anticipated coincident Descartes in one of his most cel- witn DOS- ebrated doctrines. " Because the cartes. j ma g e j n vision, consisting in col- our and shape, is the knowledge we have of the qualities of the object of that sense, it is no hard matter for a man to fall into this opinion, that the same colour and shape are the very qualities themselves ; and for the same cause that sound and noise are the qualities of the bell or of the air. And this opinion hath been so long received, that the contrary must needs appear a great paradox ; and yet the introduction of species visible and in- telligible (which is necessary for the maintenance of that opinion), passing to and fro from the object, is worse than any paradox, as being a plain impossibility. I shall therefore endeavour to make plain these points : 1. That the subject wherein colour and image are inherent, is not the object or thing seen. '2. That there is nothing without us (really) which we call an image or colour. 3. That the said im- age or colour is but an apposition unto us of the motion, agitation, or alteration which the object worketh in the brain or spirits, or some external substance of the head. 4. That as in vision, so also in conceptions that arise from the other senses, the subject of their inherence is not the object, but the sentient."! And this he goes on to prove. Nothing of this will be found in the Discourse sur la Methode, the only work of Descartes then published ; and, even if we believe Hobbes to have interpolated this chapter after he had read the Meditations, he has stated the principle so clearly and illustrated it so copiously, that, so far especially as Locke and the English metaphysicians took it up, we may almost reckon him another original source. 115. The second chapter of the Levia- * Leviathan, c. 1. VOL. II. O t Hum. Nat., c. 2. than, " On Imagination," begins imagination with one of those acute and and memory, original observations we often find in Hobbes : " That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir it, it will lie still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts of. But that, when a thing is in motion, it will eternally be in motion, unless some- what stay it, though the reason be the same, namely, that nothing can change itself, is not so easily assented to. For men measure, not only other men, but all other things, by themselves ; and because they find themselves subject, after motion, to pain and lassitude, think everything else grows weary of motion and seeks repose of its own accord." The physical principle had lately been established, but the reason here given for the contrary prejudice, though not the sole one, is in- genious, and even true. Imagination he defines to be " conception remaining, and by little and little decaying after, the act of sense."* This he afterward expressed less happily, " the gradual decline of the motion in which sense consists " his phraseology becoming more and more tinctured with the materialism he affected in all his philosophy. Neither definition seems at all applicable to the imagination which calls up long past perceptions. " This decaying sense, when we would express the thing itself (I mean fancy it- self), we call imagination; but when we would express the decay, and signify that the sense is fading, old and past, it is call- ed memory. So that imagination and memory are but one thing, which, for di- vers considerations, have divers names."! It is, however, evident that imagination and memory are distinguished by some- thing more than their names. The sec- ond fundamental error of Hobbes in his metaphysics, his extravagant nominalism, if so it should be called, appears in this sentence, as the first, his materialism, does in that previously quoted. 11G. The phenomena of dreaming and the phantasms of waking men are con- sidered in this chapter with the keen ob- servation and cool reason of Hobbes. J I am not sure that he has gone more pro- foundly into pyschological speculations in the Leviathan than in the earlier treatise ; but it bears witness more frequently to what had probably been the growth of the intervening period, a proneness to politi- cal and religious allusion, to magnify civil and to depreciate ecclesiastical power. " If this superstitious fear of spirits were * Hum. Nat., c. 3. J Hum. Nat., c. 3. t'Lev., c. 2. 106 LITERATURE OF EUROPE taken away, and with it prognostics from dreams, false prophecies, and many other things depending thereon, by which crafty and ambitious persons abuse the simple people, men would be much more fitted than they are for civil obedience. And this ought to be the work of the schools ; but they rather nourish such doctrine."* 117. The fourth chapter on Human Na- Discourseor ture ' ar >d the corresponding third train of ima- chapter of the Leviathan, enti- gination. tled On Discourse, or the Con- sequence and Train of Imagination, are among the most remarkable in Hobbes, as they contain the elements of that theory of association, which was slightly touch- ed afterward by Locke, but developed and pushed to a far greater extent by Hartley. " The cause," he says, " of the coherence or consequence of one conception to an- other is their first coherence or conse- quence at that time when they are pro- duced by sense : As, for instance, from St. Andrew the mind runneth to St. Peter, because their names are read together ; from St. Peter to a stone, from the same cause ; from stone to foundation, because we see them together ; and, for the same cause, from foundation to Church, and from Church to people, and from people to tumult ; and, according to this exam- ple, the mind may run almost from any- thing to anything."! This he illustrates in the Leviathan by the well-known ques- tion suddenly put by one in conversation about the death of Charles I., "What was the value of a Roman penny ?" Of this discourse, as he calls it, in a larger sense of the word than is usual with the logicians, he mentions several kind* ; and, after observing that the remem- brance of succession of one thing to an- other, that is, of what was antecedent, and what consequent, and what concomitant, is called an experiment, adds, that " to have had many experiments is what we call experience, which is nothing else but re- membrance of what antecedents have been followed by what consequents."! 118. "No man can have a conception Experience. of the futllr e, for the future is not yet, but of our conceptions of the past we make a future, or, rather, call past future relatively."^ And again: "The present only has a being in nature ; things past have a being in the memory only, but things to come have no being at all ; the future being but a fiction of the mind, ap- plying the sequels of actions past to the actions that are present, which with most * Hum. Nat., c. 3. t Id. ibid. t Id., c. 4, 2. $ Id., c. 4, $ 7. certainty is done by him that has most experience, but not with certainty enough. And though it be called prudence when the event answereth our expectation, yet in its own nature it is but presumption."* " When we have observed antecedents and consequents frequently associated, we take one for a sign of the other, afe clouds foretel rain, and rain is a sign there have been clouds. But signs are but conjectu- ral, and their assurance is never full or evident. For though a man have always seen the day and night follow to one an- other hitherto, yet can he not thence con- clude they shall do so, or that they have done so, eternally. Experience conclu- deth nothing universally. But those who have most experience conjecture best, be- cause they have most signs to conjecture by ; hence old men, caeteris paribus, and men of quick parts, conjecture better than the young or dull."f " But experience is not to be equalled by any advantage of natural and extemporary wit, though per- haps many young men think the contra- ry." There is, a presumption of the past as well as the future founded on experi- ence, as when, from having often seen ashes after fire, we infer, from seeing them again, that there has been fire. But this is as conjectural as our expectations of the future.J 1 19. In the last paragraph of the chapter in the Leviathan he adds, what Unconceive . is a very leading principle in the ; wer.ess of philosophy of Hobbes, but seems i n(ililt y- to have no particular relation to what has preceded : " Whatsoever we imagine is finite ; therefore there is no idea or con- ception of anything we call infinite. No man can have in his mind an image of infinite magnitude, nor conceive infinite swiftness, infinite time, or infinite force, or infinite power. When we say anything is infinite, we signify only that we are not able to conceive the ends and bounds of the things named, having no conception of the thing, but of our own inability. And therefore the name of God is used, not to make us conceive him, for he is incom- prehensible, and his greatness and power are inconceivable, but that we may honour him. Also, because whatsoever, as I said before, we conceive has been perceived first by sense, either all at once or by parts, a man can have no thought, repre- senting anything, not subject to sense. Js T o man, therefore, can conceive anything, but he must conceive it in some place, and, indeed, with some determinate mag- nitude, and which may be divided into * Lev., c. 3. f Hum. Nat. {Lev. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 107 parts, nor that anything is all in this place and all in another place at the same time, nor that two or more things can be in one and the same place at once. For none of these things ever have or can be incident to sense, but are absurd speeches, taken upon credit, without any signification at all, from deceived philosophers, and deceived or de- ceiving schoolmen.'} This, we have seen in the last section, had been already dis- cussed with Descartes. The paralogism of Hobbes consists in his imposing a limited sense on the word idea or concep- tion, and assuming that what cannot be conceived according to that sense has no signification at all. 120. The next chapter, being the fifth in Origin of one treatise and the fourth in the language, other, may be reckoned, perhaps, the most valuable, as well as original, in the writings of Hobbes. It relates to speech and language. " The invention of printing," he begins by observing, " though ingenious, compared with the invention of letters, is no great matter But the most noble and profitable invention of all others was that of speech, consist- ing of names or appellations, and their connexion, whereby men register their thoughts, recall them when they are past, and also declare them one to another for mutual utility and conversation ; without which there had been among men neither commonwealth, nor society, nor content, nor peace, no more than among lions, bears, and wolves. The first author of speech was God himself, that instructed Adam how to name such creatures as he presented to his sight ; for the Scripture goeth no farther in this matter. But this was sufficient to direct him to add more names, as the experience and use of the creatures should give him occasion, and to join them in such manner by degrees as to make himself understood ; and so, by succession of time, ,so much language might be gotten as he iiad found use for, though not so copious as an orator or philosopher has need of."* 121. This account of the original of His political language appears in general as theory iniur- probable as it is succinct and feres. clear. But the assumption that there could have been no society or mutual peace among mankind without language, the ordinary instrument of contract, is too much founded upon his own political speculations. Nor is it proved by the comparison to lions, bears, and wolves, even if the analogy could be admitted ; since the state of warfare which he here * Leviathan, c. 4. intimates to be natural to man does not commonly subsist in these wild animals of the same species.- S&vis inter se con- venit ursis is an old remark. But, taking mankind with as much propensity to vio- lence towards each other as Hobbes could suggest, is it speech, or reason and the sense of self-interest, which has restrained this within the boundaries imposed on it by civil society ? The position appears to be, that man, with every other faculty and attribute of his nature except language, could never have lived in community with his fellows. It is manifest that the mechanism of such a community would have been very imperfect. But, possessing his rational powers, it is hard to see why he might not have devised signs to make known his special wants, or why he might not have attained the peculiar prerogative of his species and foundation of society, the exchange of what he liked less for what he liked better. 12.2. This will appear more evident, and the exaggerated notions of the Necessity of school of Hobbes as to the ab- speech exag- solute necessity of language to s eratei the mutual relations of mankind, will be checked by considering, what was not so well understood in his age as at present, the intellectual capacities of those who are born deaf, and the resources which they are able to employ. It can hardly be questioned but that a number of fam- ilies, thrown together in this unfortunate situation, without other intercourse, could, by the exercise of their natural reason, as well as the domestic and social affections, constitute themselves into a sort of com- monwealth, at least as regular as that of the ants and bees ; and, if the want of language would deprive them of many ad- vantages of polity, it would also secure them from much fraud and conspiracy. But those whom we have known to want the use of speech have also wanted the sense of hearing, and have thus been shut out from many assistances to the reason- ing faculties which our hypothesis need not exclude. The fair supposition is that of a number of persons merely dumb ; and, although they would not have laws or learning, it does not seem impossible that they might maintain at least a patri- archal, if not a political, society for many generations. Upon the lowest supposi- tion, they could not be inferior to the Chimpanzees, who are said to live in com- munities in the forests of Angola. 123. The succession of conceptions in the mind depending wholly on that use of they had one to another when pro- nair duced by the senses, they cannot be ".-. - 108 LITERATURE OF EUROPE called at our choice and the need we have of them, " but as it chanceth us to hear and see such things as shall bring them to our mind. Hence brutes are unable to call what they want to mind, and often, though they hide food, do not know where to find it. But man has the power to set up marks or sensible objects, and remem- ber thereby somewhat past. The most eminent of these are names or articulate sounds, by which we recall some concep- tion of things to which we give those names ; as the appellation white bringeth to remembrance the quality of such ob- jects as produce that colour or conception in us. It is by names that we are capable of science, as, for instance, that of num- ber; for beasts cannot number for want of words, and do not miss one or two out of their young ; nor could a man, without repeating orally or mentally the words of number, know how many pieces of money may be before him."* We have here an- other assumption, that the numbering fac- ulty is not stronger in man than in brutes, and also that the former could not have found out how to divide a heap of coins into parcels without the use of words of number. The experiment might be tried with a deaf and dumb child. 124. Of names, some are proper, and Names uni- some COmmOll to many Or Uni- versal not versal, there being nothing in the realities. world universal but names, for the things named are every one of them individual and singular. " One universal name is imposed on many things for their similitude in some quality or other acci- dents ; and whereas a proper name bring- eth to mind one thing only, universals re- call any one of those many,"f " The uni- versality of one name to many things hath been the cause that men think the things are themselves universal, and so seriously contend that besides Peter and John, and all the rest of the men that are, have been, or shall be in the world, there is yet some- thing else that we call man ; viz., man in general, deceiving themselves by taking the universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth.J For if one should * Hum. Nat., c. 5. t Lev., c. 4. J " A universal," he says in his Logic, " is not a name of many things collectively, but of each taken separately ^sigillatim sumptorum). Man is not the name of the human species in general, but of each single man, Peter, John, and the rest, separately. Therefore this universal name is not the name of * anything existing in nature, nor of any idea or phan- tasm formed in the mind, but always of some word or name. Thus, when an animal, or a stone, or a ghost (spectrum), or anything else is called univer- sal, we are not to understand that any man, or stone, or anything else was, or is, or can be a universal, desire the painter to make him the picture of a man, which is as much as to say of a man in general, he meaneth no more but that the painter should choose what man he pleaseth to draw, which must needs be some of them that are, or have been, or may be, none of which are uni- versal. But when he would have him to draw the picture of the king, or any par- ticular person, he limiteth the painter to that one person he chooseth. It is plain, therefore, that there is nothing universal but names, which are therefore called in- definite."* 125. "By this imposition of names, some of larger, some of stricter significa- HOW im- tion, we turn the reckoning of the P s ed- consequences of things imagined in the mind into a reckoning of the consequences of appellations."! Hence he thinks that though a man born deaf and dumb might, by meditation, know that the angles of one triangle are equal to two right ones, he could not, on seeing another triangle of different shape, infer the same without a similar process. But by the help of words, after having observed the equality is not consequent on anything peculiar to one triangle, but. on the number of sides and angles which is common to all, he regis- ters his discovery in a proposition. This is surely to confound the antecedent pro- cess of reasoning with what he calls the registry, which follows it. The instance, however, is not happily chosen, and Hobbes but only that these words animal, stone, and the like are universal names, that is, names common to many things, and the conceptions corresponding to them in the mind are the images and phantasms of single animals or other things. And therefore we do not need, in order to understand what is meant by a universal, any other faculty than that of imagination, by which we remember that such words have excited the conception in our minds, sometimes of one particular thing, sometimes of another." Cap. 2, 9. Imagination and memory are used by Hobbes almost as synonymes. * Hum. Nat., c. 5. t It may deserve to be remarked that Hobbe himself, Nominalist as he was, did not limit reason- ing to comparison of propositions, as some later writers have been inclined to do, and as, in his ob- jections to Descartes, he might seem to do himself. This may be inferred from the sentence quoted in the text, and more expressly, though not quite per- spicuously, from a passage in the Computatio, she Logica, his Latin treatise published after the Levi- athan. Quomodo autem anirno sine verbis tacita co- gitatione ratiocinando adde.re et subtrahere solemus uno aut altero exemplo ostendendum est. Si quis ergo e longinquo aliquid obscure videat, etsi nulla sint imposita vocabula, habet tamen ejus rei ideam ean- dem propter quam impositis nunc vocabulis dicit earn rem esse corpus. Postquam autem propius accesserit, videritque eandem rem certo quodain modo nunc uno, nunc alio in loco esse, habebit ejus- dem ideam novam, propter quam nunc talem rem animatam vocat, &C., p. 2. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 109 has conceded the whole point in question by admitting that the truth of the proposi- tion could be observed, which cannot re- quire the use of words.* He expresse the next sentence with more felicity. " And thus the consequence found in one particular comes to be registered and re- membered as a universal rule, and dis- charges our mental reckoning of time and place ; and delivers us from all labour of the mind saving the first, and makes that which was found true here and now to be true in all times and places."! 126. The equivocal use of names makes The subject it often difficult to recover those continued conceptions for which they were designed, " not only in the language of others, wherein we are to consider the drift, and occasion, and contexture of the speech, as well as the words themselves, but in our own discourse, which, being de- rived from the custom and common use of speech, representeth unto us not our own conceptions. It is, therefore, a great ability in a man, out of the words, con- texture, and other circumstances of lan- guage, to deliver himself from equivoca- tion, and to find out the true meaning of what is said ; and this is it we call under- standing. "J " If speech be peculiar to man, as for aught I know it is, then is un- derstanding peculiar to him also ; under- standing being nothing else but conception caused by speech. " This definition is arbitrary, and not conformable to the usual sense. " True and false," he observes afterward, " are attributes of speech, not of things ; where speech is not, there is neither truth nor falsehood, though there may be error. Hence, as truth consists in the right ordering of names in our af- firmations, a man that seeks precise truth hath need to remember what every word * The demonstration of the thirty-second propo- sition of Euclid could leave no one in doubt wheth- er this property were common to all triangles, after it had been proved in a single instance. It is said, however, to be recorded by an ancient writer, that this discovery was first made as to equilateral, af- terward as to isosceles, and lastly as to other trian- gles. Stewart's Philosophy of Human Mind, vol. ii., chap, iv , sect. 2. The mode of proof must have been different from that of Euclid. And this might possibly lead us to suspect the truth of the tradition. For if the equality of the angles of a triangle to two right angles admitted of any elementary demonstra- tion, such as might occur in the infancy of geome- try, without making use of the property of parallel lines assumed in the twelfth axiom of Kuciid, the difficulties consequent on that assumption would readily be evaded. See the Note on Kuciid, i , 29, in Playfair, who has given a demonstration of his own, but one which involves the idea of motion rather more than was usual with the Greeks in their elementary propositions. t Lev. t Hum. Nat. Lev. he uses stands for, and place it according- ly. In geometry, the only science hither- to known, men begin by definitions. And every man who aspires to true knowledge should examine the definitions of former authors, and either correct them or make them anew. For the errors of definitions multiply themselves, according as the reckoning proceeds, and lead men into ab- surdities, which at last they see, but can- not avoid without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which lies the foundation of their errors In the right defini- tion of names lies the first use of speech, which is the acquisition of science. And in wrong or no definitions lies the first abuse from which proceed all false and senseless tenets, which make those men that take their instruction from the au- thority of books, and not from their own meditation, to be as much below the con- dition of ignorant men, as men endued with true science are above it. For, be- tween true science and erroneous doctrine, ignorance is in the middle. Words are wise men's counters ; they do but reckon by them ; but they are the money of fools."* 127. " The names of such things as af- fect us, that is, which please and \ ame s dif- displease us, because all men be feremiy im- not alike affected with the same posed- thing, nor the same man at all times, are, in the common discourse of men, of in- constant signification. For, seeing all names are imposed to signify our concep- tions, and all our affections are but con- ceptions, when we conceive the same thoughts differently, we can hardly avoid different naming of them. For, though the nature of that we conceive be the same, yet the diversity of our reception of it, in respect of different constitutions of body and prejudices of opinion, gives every- thing a tincture of our different passions. And, therefore, in reasoning, a man must take heed of words, which, besides the signification of what we imagine of their nature, have a signification also of the nature, disposition, and interest of the speaker ; such as are the names of virtues and vices ; for one man calleth wisdom what another calleth fear, and one cruelty what another justice ; one prodigality what another magnanimity, and one grav- ity what another stupidity, &c. And, therefore, such names can never be true grounds of any ratiocination. No more can metaphors and tropes of speech ; but these are less dangerous, because they profess their inconstancy, which the other do not."f Thus ends this chapter of the * Lev. f Id. 110 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Leviathan, which, with the corresponding one in the Treatise on Human Nature, are, notwithstanding what appear to me some erroneous principles, as full, perhaps, of deep and original thoughts as any other pages of equal length on the art of reason- ing and philosophy of language. Many have borrowed from Hobbes without na- ming him ; and, in fact, he is the founder of the nominalist school in England. He may probably have conversed with Bacon on these subjects ; we see much of that master's style of illustration. But as Ba- con was sometimes too excursive to sift particulars, so Hobbes has sometimes wanted a comprehensive view. 128. " There are," to proceed with Knowledge. Hobbes ' " two kinds of knowl- edge ; the one, sense, or knowl- edge original, and remembrance of the same ; the other, science, or knowledge of the truth of propositions, derived from understanding. Both are but experience, one of things from without, the other from the proper use of words in language; and experience being but remembrance, all knowledge is remembrance. Knowledge implies two things, truth and evidence ; the latter is the concomitance of a man's conception with the words that signify such conception in the act of ratiocina- tion." If a man does not annex a mean- ing to his words, his conclusions are not evident to him. " Evidence is to truth as the sap to the tree, which, so far as it creepeth along with the body and branches, keepeth them alive ; when it forsaketh them they die ; for this evidence, which is meaning with our words, is the life of truth." " Science is evidence of truth, from s\)me beginning or principle of sense. The first principle of knowledge is that we have such and such conceptions ; the second, that we have thus and thus named the things whereof they are conceptions ; the third is that we have joined those names in such manner as to make true propositions; the fourth and last is that we have joined these propositions in such manner as they be concluding, and the truth of the conclusion said to be known."* 129. Reasoning is the addition or sub- Reasoning. traction f Panels. "In what- ever matter there is room for addition and subtraction, there is room for reason ; and where these have no place, then reason has nothing at all to do."f This is neither as perspicuously express- ed, nor as satisfactorily illustrated, as is usual with Hobbes ; but it is true that all syllogistic reasoning is dependant upon Hum. Nat., c. 6. t Lev., c. 5. quantity alone, and, consequently, upon that which is capable of addition and sub- traction. This seems not to have been clearly perceived by some writers of the old Aristotelian school, or perhaps by some others, who, as far as I can judge, have a notion that the relation of a genus to a species, or a predicate to its subject, con- sidered merely as to syllogism or deduct- ive reasoning, is something different from that of a whole to its parts ; which would deprive that logic of its chief boast, its axiomatic evidence. But, as this would appear too dry to some readers, I shall pursue it farther in a nte.* * Dugald Stewart (Elements of Philosophy, &c., vol. ii., ch. ii., sect. 2) has treated this theory of Hobbes on reasoning, as well as that of Condillac, which seems much the same, with great scorn, as ' too puerile to admit of (i. e., require) refutation." [ do not myself think the language of Hobhes, ei- ;her here, or as quoted by Stewart from his Latin treatise on Logic, so perspicuous as usual. But I cannot help being of opinion that he is substantially right. For surely, when we assert that A is B, we \ssert that all things which fall under the class B, aken collectively, comprehend A ; or that B=A -f-X : B being here put, it is to be observed, not for ;he res prcedicata itself, but for the concrete, de qui- bus pradicandum est. I mention this, because this lliptical use of the word predicate seems to have occasioned some confusion in writers on logic. The Dredicate strictly taken, being an attribute or quali- :y, cannot be said to include or contain the subject. But to return : when we say B=A-)-X, or B X= A, since we do not compare, in such a proposition, as is here supposed, A with X, we only mean that A=A,or that a certain part of B is the same as it- self. Again, in a particular affirmative, Some A is B, we assert that part of A, or A Y is contained in B, or that B may be expressed by A Y-f-X. So also when we say, Some A is not B, we equally di- vide the class or genus B into A Y and X, or as- sert that B=A Y+X; but in this case the sub- ject is no longer A Y, but the remainder, or other part of A, namely, Y ; and this is not found in ei- ther term of the predicate. Finally, in the umver- sal negative, No A (neither A Y nor Y) is B, the A Y of the predicate vanishes or has no value, and B becomes equal to X, which is incapable of meas- urement with A, and, consequently, with either A Y or Y, which make up A. Now if we combine this with another proposition, in order to form a syl- logism, and say that C is A, we find, as before, that A=C-|-Z ; and, substituting this value of A in the former proposition, it appears that B=C+Z-)-X. Then, in the conclusion, we have C is B ; that is, C is a part of C+Z-f-X. And the same in the three other cases or moods of the figure. This seems to be, in plainer terms, what Hobbes means by addition or subtraction of parcels, and what Condillac means by rather a lax expression, that equations and prop- ositions are at bottom the same, or, as he phrases it better, " Pevidence de raison consiste uniquement dans 1'identite." If we add to this, as he probably intended, non-identity as the condition of all nega- tive conclusions, it seems to be no more than is ne- cessarily involved in the fundamental principle of syllogism, the dictum de omni et nullo ; which may be thus reduced to its shortest terms : " Whatevei can be divided into parts includes all those parts, FROM 1600 TO 1650. 130. A man may reckon without the use False rea- of words in particular things, as soiling. m conjecturing from the sight of and nothing else." This is not limited to mathe- matical quantity, but includes everything which ad- mits of more and less. Hobbes has a good passag in his Logic on this : Non putandum est computa- tion}, id est, ratiocination! innumeris tantum locum esse, tanquam homo a casteris animantibus, quod [ censuisse narratur Pythagoras, sola numerandi fac- ilitate distirictus esset ; nam et magnitude magmtu- dini, corpus corpori, motus motui, tempus tempori, gradus qualitatis gradui, actio actioni, conceptus conceptui, proportio proportion!, oratio orationi, no- men noimni, in qnibus onme philosophise genus con- tiniHur, adjici adimique potest. But it does not follow by any means that we should assent to the strange passages quoted by Stewart from Condillac and Diderot, which reduce all kwiwli-ili-e to identical propositions. Even in ge- ometry, -where the objects are strictly magnitudes, the countless variety in which their relations may be exhibited constitutes the riches of that inex- haustible science ; and in moral or physical propo- sitions, the relation of quantity between the subject and predicate, as concretes, which enables them to be compared, though it is the sole foundation of all general deductive reasoning or syllogism, has nothing to do with the other properties or relations, of which we obtain a knowledge by means of that compari- son. In mathematical reasoning, we infer as to quantity through the medium of quantity; in other reasoning, we use the same medium, but our infer- ence is as to truths which do not lie within that category. Thus, in the hackneyed instance, All men are mortal ; that is, mortal creatures include men and something more, it is absurd to assert that we only know that men are men. It is true that our knowledge of the truth of the proposition comes by the help of this comparison of men in the subject with men in the predicate; but the very nature of the proposition discovers a constant relation be- tween the individuals 6f the human species and that mortality which is predicated of them along with others ; and it is in this, not in an identical equation, as Diderot seerns to have thought, that our knowledge consists. The remarks of Stewart's friend, M. Prevost of Geneva, on the principle of identity as the basis of mathematical science, and which the former has . candidly subjoined to his own volume, appear to me very satisfactory. Stewart comes to admit that the dispute is nearly verbal ; but we cannot say that he originally treated it as such ; and the principle it- ; Belf, both as applied to geometry and to logic, is, in my opinion, of some importance to the clearness of our conceptions as to those sciences. It may be added, that Stewart's objection to the principle of identity as the basis of geometrical reasoning is less forcible in its application to syllogism. He is will- ing to admit that magnitudes capable of coincidence by immediate superposition may be reckoned iden- tical, but scruples to apply such a word to those which are dissimilar in figure, as the rectangles of the means and extremes of four proportional lines. Neither one nor the other are, in fact, identical as real quantities, the former being necessarily conceiv- ed to differ from each other by position in space as much as the latter ; so that the expression he quotes from Aristotle, ev rourot? ij norm ivory;, or any sim- ilar one of modern mathematicians, can only refer to the abstract magnitude of their areas, which be- ing divisible into the same number of equal parts, they are called the same. And there seems no real j difference in this respect between two circles of anything what is like.y to follow ; and if he reckons wrong, it is error. But in rea- soning on general words, to fall on a false inference is not error, though often so call- ed, but absurdity.* " If a man should talk to me of a round quadrangle, or accidents of bread in cheese, or immaterial substan- ces, or of free subject, a free will, or any free, but free from being hindered by op- position, I should not say he were in error, but that his words were without meaning, that is to say, absurd." Some of these propositions, it will occur, are intelligible in a reasonable sense, and not contradic- tory, except by means of an arbitrary def- inition, which he who employs them does not admit. It will be observed here, as equal radii and two such rectangles as are supposed above, the identity of their magnitudes being a dis- tinct truth, independent of any consideration either of their figure or their position. But, however this may be, the identity of the subject with part of the predicate in an affirmative proposition is nev- er fictitious, but real. It means that the persons or things in the one are strictly the same beings with the persons or things to which they are compared in the other, though, through some difference of re- lations or other circumstance, they are expressed in different language. It is needless to give examples, as all those who can read this note at all will know how to find them. I will here take the liberty to remark, though not closely connected with the present subject, that Archbishop Wh'iteley seems not quite right in say- ing (Elements of Logic, p. 4U) that in affirmative propositions the predicate is never distributed. Be- sides the numerous instances where this is, in point of fact, the case, all which he excludes, there are* many in which it is involved in the very form of the proposition. Such are all those which assert iden- tity or equality, and such also are all those particu- lar affirmations which have previously been convert- ed from universals. Of the first sort are all the the- . orems in geometry, asserting an equality of magni- tudes or ratios, in which the subject and predicate may always change places. It is true that in the in- stance given in the work quoted, that equilateral triangles are equiangular, the converse requires a separate proof, and so in many similar cases. But in these the predicate is not distributed by the form of the proposition ; they assert no equality of mag- nitude. The position, that where such equality is affirm- ed, the predicate is not logically distributed, would lead to the consequence that it can only be converted into a particular affirmation. Thus, after proving that the square of the hypothenuse, in all right- angled triangles, is equal to those of the sides, we could only infer that the squares of the sides are sometimes equal to that of the hypothenuse, which could not be maintained without rendering the rules of logic ridiculous. The most general mode of considering the question is to say, as we have done above, that in a universal affirmative, the predicate B (that is, the class of which B is predicated) is composed of A the subject, and X an unknown remainder. But if, by the very nature of the proposition, we perceive that X is nothing or has no value, it is plain that the subject measures the entire predicate, and vice versa, the predicate measures the subject ; in other words, each is taken universally, or distributed. * Lev. r. 5 112 LITERATURE OF EUROPE we have done before, that Hobbes does not confine reckoning or reasoning to uni- versals, or even to words. 131. Man has the exclusive privilege of forming general theorems. Its frequency. ^^ ^ & p r { v ii e g e j s allayed by another, that is, by the privilege of ab- surdity, to which no living creature is subject, but man only. And of men those are of all men most subject to it that profess philosophy. For there is not one that begins his ratiocination from the definitions or explications of the names they are to use, which is a method used only in geometry, whose conclusions have thereby been made indisputable. He then enumerates seven causes of absurd con- clusions ; the first of which is the want of definitions, the others are erroneous impo- sition of names. If we can avoid these errors, it is not easy to fall into absurdity (by \vhich he, of course, only means any wrong conclusion), except, perhaps, by the length of a reasoning. " For all men," he says, "by nature reason alike, and well, when they have good principles. Hence it appears that reason is not, as sense and memory, born with us, nor got- ten by experience only, as prudence is, but attained by industry, in apt imposing of names, and in getting a good and or- derly method of proceeding from the ele- ments to assertions, and so to syllogisms. Children are not endued with reason at all till they 'have attained the use of speech, but are called reasonable crea- tures for the possibility of having the use of reason hereafter. And reasoning serves the generality of mankind very little, though, with their natural prudence with- out science they are in better condition than those who reason ill themselves, or trust those who have done so."* It has been observed by Buhle, that Hobbes had more respect for the Aristotelian forms of logic than his master Bacon. He has, in fact, written a short treatise, in his Ele- menta Philosophise, on the subject ; ob- serving, however, therein, that a true logic w r ill be sooner learned by attending to ge- ometrical demonstrations than by drudg- ing over the rules of syllogism, as chil- dren learn to walk, not by precept, but by habit, f * Id. ibid. t Citius multo veram logicam discunt qui math- ematicorum demonstrationibus, quam qui logicorum syllogizandi prseceptis legendis tempus conterurit, hand alitBr quam parvuli pueri gressutn formare dis- cnnt non praeceptis sed saepe gradiendo. C. iv., p. 30. Atque haec sufficiunt (he says afterward), de syl- logismo, qui est tanquam gressus philosophise ; nam et quantum necesse est ad cognpscendum Qndevim suam habeat omnis argumentatio legitima, tantum 132. " No discourse whatever," he says truly in the seventh chapter of Know]e( , geof the Leviathan, " can end in ab- fact not den- solute knowledge of fact past ^ in f m rea " or to come. For as to the knowledge of fact, it is originally sense ; and ever after memory. And for the knowledge of consequences, which I have said before is called science, it is not abso- lute, but conditional. No man can know by discourse that this or that is, has been, or will be, which is to know absolutely ; but only that if this is, that is ; if this has been, that has been ; if this shall be, that shall be ; which is to know conditionally, and that not the consequence of one thing to another, but of one name of a thing to another name of the same thing. And, therefore, when the discourse is put into speech, and begins with the definitions of words, and proceeds by connexion of the same into general affirmations, and of those again into syllogisms, the end or last sum is called the conclusion, and the thought of the mind by it signified is that conditional knowledge of the consequence of words which is commonly called sci- ence. But if the first ground of such dis- course be not definitions, or if definitions be not rightly joined together in syllo- gisms, then the end or conclusion is again opinion, namely, of the truth of somewhat said, though sometimes in absurd and senseless words, without possibility of be- ing understood."* 133. " Belief, which is the admitting of propositions upon trust,*in many ca- ses is no less free from doubt than perfect and manifest knowledge ; for as there is nothing whereof there is not some cause, there must be some cause thereof conceived. Now there be many things which we receive from the report of others, of which it is impossible to im- agine any cause of doubt ; for what can be opposed against the consent of all men, in things they can know and have no cause to report otherwise than they are, such as is great part of our histories, un- less a man would say that all the world had conspired to deceive him T'f What- ever w^ believe on the authority of the speaker, he is the object of our faith. Consequently, when we believe that the Scriptures arc the word of God, having no immediate revelation from God him- diximus; et omnia accumulare qu?R dici possnnt, seque superflunm esset ac si qnis ut dixi puerulo ad gradiendum pnecepta dare velit ; acquiritur enim ratiocinandi ars non praeceptis sed usu et lectione eorum librorum in quibus omnia sevens demon- strationibus transiguntur. C. v., p. 35. * Lev., c. 7. f Hum. Nat., c. 6. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 113 self, our belief, faith, and trust is in th Church, whose word we take, and ac quiesce therein. Hence all we believe 01 the authority cf me,n, whether they b sent from God or not, is faith in men only. We have no certain knowledge of th( truth of Scripture, but trust the holy mei of God's Church succeeding one anothe from the time of those who saw the won drous works of God Almighty in the flesh And as we believe the Scriptures to be the word uf God on the authority of the Church, the interpretation of the Scrip- ture in case of controversy ought to be trusted to the Church rather than private opinion. f 134. The ninth chapter of the Leviathar chart of contains a synoptical chart of hu- science. mau science, or " knowledge of con- sequences," also called philosophy. He divides it into natural and civil : the for- mer into consequences from accidents common to all bodies, quantity and mo- tion, and those from qualities, otherwise called physics. The first includes astron- omy, mechanics, architecture, as well as mathematics. The second he distinguish- es into consequences from qualities of bodies transient, or meteorology, and from 'hose of bodies permanent, such as the stars, the atmosphere, or terrestrial bod- ies. The last are divided again into those without sense and those with sense ; and these into animals and men. In the con- sequences from the qualities of animals generaltyhe reckons optics and music; in those from men we find ethics, poetry, rhetoric, and logic. These altogether con- stitute the first great head of natural phi- losophy. In the second, or civil philoso- phy, he includes nothing but the rights and duties of sovereigns and their sub- jects. This chart of human knowledge is one of the worst that has been propound- ed, and falls much below that of Bacon. J 135. 'This is the substance of the phi- Anaiysis of losophy of Hobbes, so far as it passions, relates to the intellectual facul- ties, and especially to that of reasoning. In the seventh and two following chapters of the treatise on Human Nature, in the ninth and tenth of the Leviathan, he pro- ceeds to the analysis of the passions. The motion in some internal substance of the head, if it does not stop there, pro- ducing mere conceptions, proceeds to the heart, helping or hindering the vital mo- tions, which he distinguishes from the voluntary, exciting in us pleasant or pain- ful affections, called passions. We are * Lev., c. 7. t Lev., c. 9. VOL. II. P fHum. Nat., c.l 1. solicited by these to draw near to that which pleases us, and the contrary. Hence pleasure, love, appetite, desire, are divers names for divers considerations of the same thing. As all conceptions we have immediately by the sense are delight, or pain, or appetite, or fear, so are all the imaginations after sense. But, as they are weaker imaginations, so are they also weaker pleasures or weaker pains.* -All delight is appetite, and presupposes a far- ther end. There is no utmost end in this world ; for while we live we have desires, and desire presupposes a farther end. We are not, therefore, to wonder that men desire more the more they possess ; for felicity, by which we mean continual de- light, consists not in having prospered, but in prospering.! Each passion being, as he fancies, a continuation of the mo- tion which gives rise to a peculiar con- ception, is associated with it. They all, except such as are immediately connected with sense, consist in the conception of a power to produce some effect. To hon- our a man is to conceive that he has an excess of power over some one with whom he is compared ; hence qualities indicative of power, and actions signifi- cant of it, are honourable ; riches are hon- oured as signs of power, and nobility is lonourable as a sign of power in anees- ;ors.J 136. "The constitution of man's body s in perpetual mutation, and Gooi i and icnce it is impossible that all evil relative the same things should always terins - ause in him the same appetites and aver- sions ; much less can all men consent in he desire of any one object. But what- soever is the object of any man's appetite or desire, that is it which he, for his part, ?alls good ; and the object of his hate and iversion, evil, or of his contempt, vile and nconsiderable. For these words of good, jvil, and contemptible are ever used with elation to the person using them, there teing nothing simply and absolutely so ; lor any common rule of good and evil, to e taken from the nature of the objects hemselves, but from the person of the nan where there is no commonwealth, r in a commonwealth from the person hat represents us, or from an arbitrator >r judge, whom men disagreeing shall by onsent set up, and make his sentence the ule thereof."^ 137. In prosecuting this analysis, all the assions are resolved into self-love, His para- he pleasure we take in our own doxes - * Hum. Nat., c. 7. t Hum. Nat., c. 8. t Id., Lev., c. 11. $ Lev., c. 8. LITERATURE OF EUROPE power, the pain we suffer in wanting it. Some of his explications are very forced. Thus, weeping is said to be from a sense of our want of power. And here comes one of his strange paradoxes. " Men are apt to weep that prosecute revenge, when the revenge is suddenly stopped or frus- trated by the repentance of their adversa- ry ; and such are the tears of reconcilia- tion."* So resolute was he to resort to anything the most preposterous, rather than admit a moral feeling in human na- ture. His account of laughter is better known, and perhaps more probable, though not explaining the whole of the case. Af- ter justly observing that whatsoever it be that moves laughter, it must be new and unexpected, he defines it to be " a sudden glory arising from a sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by compari- son with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly, for men laugh at the follies of themselves past." It might be objected, that those are most prone to laughter who have least of this glorying in themselves, or undervaluing of their neighbours. 138. ' There is a great difference be- His notion tween the desire of a man when of love. indefinite, and the same desire limited to one person ; and this is that love which is the great theme of poets. But, notwithstanding their praises, it must be defined by the word need ; for it is a conception a man hath of his need of that one person desired."! " There is yet an- other passion sometimes called love, but more properly good-will or charity. There can be no greater argument to a man of his own power than to find himself able not only to accomplish his own desires, but also to assist other men in theirs ; and this is that conception wherein con- sists charity. In which first is contained that natural affection of parents towards their children which the Greeks call 0-1-0/3777, as also that affection wherewith men seek to assist those that adhere unto them. But the affection wherewith men many times bestow their benefits on strangers is not to be called charity, but either contract, whereby they seek to purchase friendship, or fear, which makes them to purchase peace. "t This is equally contrary to no- torious truth, there being neither fear nor contract in generosity towards strangers. It is, however, not so extravagant as a subsequent position, that in beholding the danger of a ship in a tempest, though there is pity, which is grief, yet "the * Hum. Nat., c. 9. Lev., c. 6 and 10. t Hum Nat., c. 9. J Id. ibid. delight in our own security is so far pre- dominant, that men are usually content, in such a case, to be spectators of the mis- ery of their friends."* 139. As knowledge begins from experi- ence, new experience is the be- _ / i IT -iit-i i Curiosity. ginning of new knowledge. vV hat- ever, therefore, happens new to a man, gives him the hope of knowing somewhat he knew not before. This appetite of knowledge is curiosity. It is peculiar to man ; for beasts never regard new things except to discern how far they may be useful, while man looks for the cause and beginning of all he sees.f This attribute of curiosity seems rather hastily denied to beasts. And as men, he says, are al- ways seeking new knowledge, so are they always deriving some new gratification. There is no such thing as perpetual tran- quillity of mind while we live here, be- cause life itself is but motion, and can never be without desire, nor without fear, no more than without sense. " What kind of felicity God hath ordained to them that devoutly honour him, a man shall no sooner know than enjoy, being joys that now are as incomprehensible as the word of schoolmen, beatifical vision, is unintel- ligible.'t 140. From the consideration of the pas- sions Hobbes advances to in- Difference of quire what are the causes of the intellectual difference in the intellectual ca- ca P ilcities - pacities and dispositions of men.$ Their bodily senses are nearly alike, whence he precipitately infers there can be no great difference in the brain. Yet men differ much in their bodily constitution, whence he derives the principal differences in their minds ; some, being addicted to sensual pleasures, are less curious as to knowl- edge or ambitious as to power. This is called dulness, and proceeds from the ap- petite of bodily delight. The contrary to this is a quick ranging of mind, accompa- nied with curiosity in comparing things that come into it, either as to unexpected similitude, in which fancy consists, or dis- similitude in things appearing the same, which is properly called judgment ; " for to judge is nothing else but to distinguish and discern. And both fancy and judg- ment are commonly comprehended under the name of wit, which seems to be a te- nuity and agility of spirits contrary to that restiness of the spirits supposed in those who are dull."|| * Hum. Nat., c. 9. This is an exaggeration of some well-known lines of Lucretius, which are themselves exaggerated. t Id. ibid. J Lev., c. 6 and c. 11. vas to unlock every ward of the human ioul. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 119 154. In nothing does Hobbes deserve more credit than in having set an exam- ple of close observation in the philosophy of the human mind. If he errs, he errs like a man who goes a little out of the right track, not like one who has set out in a wrong one. The eulogy of Stewart on Descartes, that he was the father of this experimental psychology, cannot be strictly wrested from him by Hobbes, in- asmuch as the publications of the former are of an earlier date ; but we may fairly say that the latter began as soon, and prosecuted his inquiries farther. It seems natural to presume that Hobbes, who is said to have been employed by Bacon in translating some of his works into Latin, had at least been led by him to the induc- tive process he has more than any other employed. But he has seldom mentioned his predecessor's name ; and, indeed, his mind was of a different stamp ; less ex- cursive, less quick in discovering analo- gies, and less fond of reasoning from them, but more close, perhaps more patient, and more apt to follow up a predominant idea, which sometimes become one of the " idola specus" that deceive him. CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, AND OF JURISPRUDENCE. FROM 1GOO TO 1650. SECT. I. ON MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Casuists of the Roman Church. Suarez on Moral Law. Selden. Charron. La Mothe le Vayer. Bacon's Essays. Feltham. Browne's Religio Medici. Other Writers. 1. IN traversing so wide a field as mor- al and political philosophy, we must still endeavour to distribute the subject ac- cording to some order of subdivision, 'so far, at least, as the contents of the books themselves which come before us will permit. And we give the first place to those which, relating to the moral law botft of nature and revelation, connect the proper subject of the present chapter with that of the second and third. 2. We meet here a concourse of vol- Casuisticai umes, occupying no small space writers. j n o id libraries, the writings of the casuists, chiefly within the Romish Church. None, perhaps, in the whole compass of literature are more neglected by those who do not read with what we may call a professional view; but to the ecclesiastics of that communion they have still a certain value, though far less than when they were first written. The most vital discipline of that church, the secret of the power of its priesthood, the source importance of most of the good and evil it ofconiession. can work, is found in the con- fessional. It is there that the keys are kept ; it is there that the lamp burns, whose rays diverge to every portion of hu- man life. No church that has relinquished this prerogative can ever establish a per- manent dominion over mankind ; none that retains it in effective use can lose the hope or the prospect of being their ruler. 3. It is manifest that in the common course of this rite, no particular Necessity of difficulty will arise, nor is the rules for the confessor likely to weigh in confessor - golden scales the scruples or excuses of ordinary penitents. But peculiar circum- stances might be brought before him, wherein there would be a necessity for possessing some rule, lest, by sanctioning the guilt of the party before him, he should incur as much of his own. Treatises, therefore, of casuistry were written as guides to the confessor, and became the textbooks in every course of ecclesiasti- cal education. These were commonly digested in a systematic order, and, what is the unfailing consequence of system, or, rather, almost part of its definition, spread into minute ramifications, and aim- ed at comprehending every possible emer- gency. Casuistry is itself allied to juris- prudence, especially to that of the canon law ; and it was natural to transfer the subtlety of distinction and copiousness of partition usual with the jurists, to a sci- ence which its professors were apt to treat upon very similar principles. 4. The older theologians seem,^ike the Greek and Roman moralists, i ncrea seor when writing systematically, to casuistical have made general morality their llleralure - subject, and casuistry but their illustra- tion. Among the monuments of their ethical philosophy, the Secunda Secundae of Aquinas is the most celebrated. Trea- tises of casuistry, which is the expansion and application of ethics, may be found both before and during the sixteenth cen- - tury ; and while the confessional was ac- tively converted to so powerful an engine, they could not conveniently be wanting. Casuistry, indeed, is not much required by 120 the Church in an ignorant age ; but the sixteenth century was not an age of ig- norance. Yet it is not till about the end of that period that we find casuistical lit- erature burst out, so to speak, with a profusion of fruit. " Uninterruptedly af- terward," says Eichhorn, " through the whole seventeenth century, the moral and casuistical literature of the Church of Rome was immensely rich ; and it caused a lively and extensive movement in a province which had long been at peace. The first impulse came from the Jesuits, to whom the Jansenists opposed themselves. We must distinguish from both the theological moralists, who re- mained faithful to their ancient teaching."* 5. We may be blamed, perhaps, for ob- Distraction trading a pedantic terminology, ofsubjec- if we ma ke the most essential live and oh- , . .. . ,.. jectivemo- distinction in morality, and one raiity. for want of which, more than any other, its debatable controversies have arisen, that between the subjective and objective rectitude of actions : in clear- er language, between the provinces of conscience and of reason ; between what is well meant and what is well done. The chief business of the priest is natu- rally with the former. The walls of the confessional are privy to the whispers of self-accusing guilt. No doubt can ever arise as to the subjective character of ac- tions which the conscience has condemn- ed, and for which the penitent seeks ab- solution. Were they even objectively lawful, they are sins in him, according to the unanimous determination of casuists. But, though what the conscience reclaims against is necessarily wrong, relatively to the agent, it does not follow that what it may fail to disapprove is innocent. Choose whatever theory we may please as to the moral standard of actions, they must have an objective rectitude of their own, inde- pendently of their agent, without which there could be no distinction of right and wrong, or any scope for the dictates of conscience. The science of ethics, as a science, can only be conversant with ob- jective morality. Casuistry is the in- strument of applying this science, which, like every other, is built on reasoning, to the moral nature and volition of man. It rests for its validity on the great princi- ple that it is our duty to know, as far as lies in us, what is right, as well as to do what we know to be such. But its ap- plication was beset with obstacles ; the extenuations of ignorance and error were so various, the difficulty of representing * GescMchte der Cultur, vol. vi., part i., p. 390. OF LUROPE the moral position of the penitent to the judgment of the confessor by any process of language so insuperable, that the most acute understanding might be foiled in the task of bringing home a conviction of guilt to the self-deceiving sinner. Again, he might aggravate needless scruples, or disturb the tranquil repose of innocence. 6. But, though past actions are the pri mary subject of auricular con- n irectory fession, it was a necessary con- office of the sequence that the priest would C01lfessor be frequently called upon to advise as to the future, to bind or loose the will in in- complete or meditated lines of conduct. And as all, without exception, must come before his tribunal, the rich, the noble, the counsellors of princes, and princes them- selves, were to reveal their designs, to ex- pound their uncertainties, to call, in ef- fect, for his sanction in all they might have to do, to secure themselves against transgression by shifting the responsibility on his head. That this tremendous au- thority of direction, distinct from the rite of penance, though immediately spring- ing from it, should have produced a no more overwhelming influence of the priest- hood than it has actually done, great as that has been, can only be ascribed to the reaction of human inclinations, which will not be controlled, and of human reason, which exerts a silent force against the au- thority it acknowledges. 7. In the directory business of the con- fessional, far more than in the Difficulties penitential, the priest must strive f casuistry, to bring about that union between subjec- tive and objective rectitude in which the perfection of a moral act consists, with- out which in every instance, according to their tenets, some degree of sinfulness, some liability to punishment remains, and which must at least be demanded from those who have been - made acquainted with their duty. But when he came from the broad lines of the moral law, from the decalogue and the Gospel, or even from the ethical systems of theology, to the indescribable variety of circumstance which his penitents had to recount, there arose a multitude of problems, and such as, perhaps, would most command his at- tention, when they involved the practice of the great, to w'hich he might hesitate to apply an unbending rule. The ques- tions of casuistry, like those of jurispru- dence, were often found to turn on the great and ancient doubt of both sciences, whether we should abide by the letter or a general law, or let in an equitable in- terpretation of its spirit. The consulting party would be apt to plead for the one, FROM 1600 TO 1650. 121 the guide of conscience would most se curely adhere to the other. But he migh also perceive the severity of those rule of obligation which conduce, in the par- ticular instance, to no apparent end, or even defeat their own principle. Hence there arose two schools of casuistry, first in the practice of confession, and after- ward in the books intended to assist it; one strict and uncomplying, the other more indulgent and flexible to circumstances. 8. The characteristics of these systems strict and were displayed in almost the lax schemes whole range of morals. They were, however, chiefly seen in the rules of veracity, and especially in promissory obligations. According to the fathers of the Church, and to the rigid casuists in general, a lie was never to be uttered, a promise was never to be bro- ken. The precepts especially of revela- tion, notwithstanding their brevity and figurativeness, were held complete and literal. Hence, promises obtained by mis- take, fraud, or force, and, above all, gra- tuitous vows, where God was considered as the promisee, however lightly made, or become intolerably onerous by superve- nient circumstances, were strictly to be fulfilled, unless the dispensing power of the Church might sometimes be sufficient to release them. Besides the respect due to moral rules, and especially those of Scripture, there had been, from early times, in the Christian Church, a strong disposition to the ascetic scheme of reli- gious morality ; a prevalent notion of the intrinsic meritoriousness of voluntary self- denial, which discountenanced all regard in man to his own happiness, at least in this life, as a sort of flinching from the discipline of suffering. And this had, doubtless, its influence upon the severe casuists. 9. But there had not been wanting those Convenience who, whatever course they might of the latter, pursue in the confessional, found the convenience of an accommodating mo- rality in the secular affairs of the Church. Oaths were broken, engagements entered into without faith, for the ends of the clergy, or of those whom they favoured in the struggles of the world. And some of the ingenious sophistry, by which these breaches of plain rules are usually defend- ed, was not unknown before the Reforma- tion. But casuistical writings at that time were comparatively few. The Jesuits have the credit of first, rendering public a scheme of false morals, which has been denominated from them, and enhanced the obloquy that overwhelmed their order. Their volumes of casuistry were exceed- VOL. II. Q ingly numerous ; some of them belong to the last twenty years of the sixteenth, but a far greater part to the following century. 10. The Jesuits were prone, for several reasons, to embrace the laxer Favoured by theories of obligation. They the Jesuits. were less tainted than the old monastic or- ders with that superstition which had flow- ed into the Church from the East, the meri- toriousness of self-inflicted suffering for its own sake. They embraced a life of toil and danger, but not of habitual privation and pain. Dauntless in death and torture,- they shunned the mechanical asceticism of the convent. And, secondly, their eyes were bent on a great end, the good of the Catholic Church, which they identified with that of their own order. It almost invariably happens, that men who have the good of mankind at heart, and active- ly prosecute it, become embarrassed, at some time or other, by the conflict of par- ticular duties with the best method of pro- moting their object. An unaccommoda- ting veracity, an unswerving good faith, will often appear to stand, or stand really, in the way of their ends ; and hence the little confidence we repose in enthusiasts, even when, in a popular mode of speaking, they are most sincere, that is, most con- vinced of the rectitude of their aim. 1 1 . The course prescribed by Loyola led his disciples, not to solitnde, but The causes to the world. They became the of this - associates and counsellors, as well as the confessors of the great. They had to wield the powers of the earth for the ser- vice of Heaven. Hence, in confession it- elf, they were often tempted to look be- yond the penitent, and to guide his con- science rather with a view to his useful- ness than his integrity. In questions of morality, to abstain from action is gener- ally the means of innocence, but to act is ndispensable for positive good. Thus ;heir casuistry had a natural tendency to Become more objective, and to entangle he responsibility of personal conscience n an inextricable maze of reasoning. They had also to retain their influence over men not wholly submissive to reli- ious control, nor ready to abjure the )leasant paths in which they trod ; men of the court and the city, who might serve he Church though they did not adorn it, and for whom it was necessary to make some compromise in furtherance of the nain design. 12. It must also be fairly admitted that he rigid casuists went to ex- Extravau.-.nce ravagant lengths. Their de- or th strict :isions were often not only Ci mrsh, but unsatisfactory ; the reason de- 122 LITERATURE OF EUROPE manded in vain a principle of their iron law ; and the common sense of mankind imposed the limitations, which they were incapable of excluding by anything better than a dogmatic assertion. Thus, in the cases of promissory obligation, they were compelled to make some exceptions, and these left it open to rational inquiry wheth- er more might not be found. They di- verged unnecessarily, as many thought, from the principles of jurisprudence ; for the jurists built their determinations, or professed to do so, on what was just and equitable among men ; and though a dis- tinction, frequently very right, was taken between the forum exterius and interius, the provinces of jurisprudence and casu- istry, yet the latter could not, in these questions of mutual obligation, rest upon wholly different ground from the former. 13. The Jesuits, however, fell rapidly Opposite mto the opposite extreme. Their faults of subtlety in logic, and great ingenu- Jesuits. j t y m (j ev isi n g arguments, were employed in sophisms that undermined the foundations of moral integrity in the heart. They warred with these arms against the conscience which they were bound to protect. The offences of their casuistry, as charged by their adversaries, are very multifarious. One of the most celebrated is the doctrine of equivoca- tion ; the innocence of saying that which is true in the sense meant by the speaker, though he is aware that it will be other- wise understood. Another is that of what was called probability ; according to which it is lawful, in doubtful problems of mo- rality, to take the course which appears to ourselves least likely to be right, pro- vided any one casuistical writer of good repute has approved it. The multiplicity of books, and want of uniformity in their decisions, made this a broad path for the conscience. In the latter instance, as in many others, the subjective nature of mor- al obligation was lost sight of ; and to this the scientific treatment of casuistry inev- itably contributed. 14. Productions so little regarded as those of the Jesuitical casuists cannot be dwelt upon. Thomas Sanchez, of Cor- dova, is author of a large treatise on mat- rimony, published in 1592 ; the best, as far as the canon law is concerned, which has yet been published. But in the casuis- tical portion of this work the most extra- ordinary indecencies occur, such as have consigned it to general censure.* Some * Bayle, art. Sanchez, expatiates on this, and condemns the Jesuit ; Catilma Cethegum. The later editions of Sanchez De Matrimonio are cas- tigate. of these, it must be owned, belong to the rite of auricular confession itself, as man- aged in the Church of Rome, though they give scandal by their publication and ap- parent excess beyond the necessity of the case. The Summa Casuum Conscientiae of Toletus, a Spanish Jesuit and cardinal, which, though published in 1602, belongs to the sixteenth century, and the casuis- tical writings of Less, Busenbaum, and Es- cobar, may just be here mentioned. The Medulla Casuum Conscientiae of the sec- ond (Minister, 1645) went through fifty- two editions, the Theologia Moralis of the last (Lyon, 164G) through forty.* Of the opposition excited by the laxity in moral rules ascribed to the Jesuits, though it be- gan in some manner during this period, we shall have more to say in the next. 15. Suarez of Granada, by far the great- est man in the department of Suarez, moral philosophy whom the or- De Legibus. der of Loyola produced in this age, or perhaps in any other, may not improbably have treated of casuistry in some part of his numerous volumes. We shall, how- ever, gladly leave this subject to bring be- fore the reader a large treatise of Suarez, on the principles of natural law, as well as of" all positive jurisprudence. This is entitled, Tractatus de legibus ac Deo le- gislatore in decem libros distributus, utri- usque fori hominibus non minus utilis, quam necessarius. It might, with no great impropriety perhaps, be placed in any of the three sections of this chapter, rela- ting not only to moral philosophy, but to politics in some degree, and to jurispru- dence. 16.. Suarez begins by laying down the position that all legislative, as Titles of bis well as all paternal, power is de- ten books - rived from God, and that the authority of every law resolves itself into his. For either the law proceeds immediately from God, or, if it be human, it proceeds from man as his vicar and minister. The titles of the ten books of this large treatise are as follows : 1. On the nature of law in general, and on its causes and consequen- ces : 2. On eternal natural law, and that of nations : 3. On positive human law in itself, considered relatively to human nature, which is also called civil law: 4. On positive ecclesiastical law : 5. On the differences of human laws, and especially of thtse that are penal, or in the nature of penal : 6. On the interpretation, the al- teration, and the abolition of human laws : 7. On unwritten law, which is called cus- tom ; 8. On those human laws which are * Ranke, die Papste, vol. iii. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 123 called favourable, or privileges : 9. On the positive divine law of the old dispensa- tions : 10. On the positive divine law of the new dispensation. 17. This is a very comprehensive chart Heads of the of general la\v, and entitles Sua- second book. rez to be accounted such a pre- cursor of Grotius and Puffendorf as occu- pied most of their ground, especially that of the latter, though he cultivated it in a different manner. His volume is a close- ly printed folio of 700 pages in double col- umns. The following heads of chapters in the second book will show the ques- tions in which Suarez dealt, and, in some degree, his method of stating and conduct- ing them. 1. Whether there be any eter- nal law, and what is its necessity : 2. On the subject of eternal law, and on the acts it commands : 3. In what act (actus, not actio, a scholastic term, as I conceive) the eternal law exists (existit), and whether it be one or many : 4. Whether the eternal law be the cause of other laws, and obli- gatory through their means : 5. In what natural law consists : 6. Whether natural law be a preceptive divine law : 7. On the subject of natural law, and on its precepts : 8. Whether natural law be one : 9. Wheth- er natural law bind the conscience : 10. Whether natural law obliges not only to the act (actus), but to the mode (modum) of virtue. This obscure question seems to refer to the subjective nature, or mo- tive, of virtuous actions, as appears by the next : 11. Whether natural law obliges us to act from love or charity (ad modum operandi ex caritate) : 12. Whether nat- ural law not only prohibits certain ac- tions, but invalidates them when done : 13. Whether the precepts of the law of nature are intrinsically immutable : 14. Whether any human authority can alter or dispense with the natural law : 15. Whether God, by his absolute power, can dispense with the law of nature : 16. Whether an equitable interpretation can ever be admitted in the law of nature : 17. Whether the law of nature is dis- tinguishable from that of nations : 18. Whether the law of nations enjoins or for- bids anything : 19. By what means we are to distinguish the law of nature from that of nations : 20. Certain corollaries : and that the law of nations is both just and also mutable. 18. These heads may give some slight niaru-ter not i n to tne reader of the char- or such ' r acter of the book, as the book it- Bchoiastic S elf may serve as a typical in- 1 stance of that form of theology, of methaphysics, of ethics, of jurispru- dence, which occupies the unread and un- readable folios of the sixteenth and sev- enteenth centuries, especially those issu- ing from the Church of Rome, and may be styled generally the scholastic method. Two remarkable characteristics strike us in these books, which are sufficiently to be judged by reading their table of con- tents, and by taking occasional samples of different parts. The extremely sys- tematic form they assume, and the multi- plicity of divisions, render this practice more satisfactory than it can be in works of less regular arrangement. One of these characteristics is that spirit of system it- self, and another is their sincere desire to exhaust the subject by presenting it to the mind in every light, and by tracing all its relations and consequences. The fertili- ty of those men who, like Suarez, superior to most of the rest, were trained in the scholastic discipline, to which I refer the methods of the canonists and casuists, is sometimes surprising ; their views are not one-sided; they may not solve objections to our satisfaction, but they seldom sup- press them ; they embrace a vast compass of thought and learning ; they write less for the moment, and are less under the in- fluence of local and temporary prejudices than many who have lived in better ages of philosophy. But, again, they have great defects ; their distinctions confuse instead of giving light ; their systems, being not founded on clear principles, become em- barrassed and incoherent ; their method is not always sufficiently consecutive ; the difficulties which they encounter are too arduous for them ; they labour under the multitude, and are entangled by the dis- cordance, of their authorities. 19. Suarez, who discusses all these im- portant problems of his second Quotations book with acuteness, and, for his of suarcz. circumstances, with an independent mind, is weighed down by the extent and nature of his learning. If Grotius quotes philos- ophers and poets too frequently, what can we say of the perpetual reference to Aqui- nas, Cajetan, Soto, Turrecremata, Vasqui- us, Isidore, Vincent of Beauvais or Alen- sis, not to mention the canonists and fa- thers which Suarez employs to prove or disprove every proposition"? The syllo- gistic forms are unsparingly introduced. Such writers as Soto or Suarez held all sort of ornament not less unfit for philo- sophical argument than it would be for geometry. Nor do they ever appeal to experience or history for the rules of de- termination. Their materials are, never- theless, abundant, consisting of texts of Scripture, sayings of the fathers and schoolmen, established theorems in naturr* 124 LITERATURE OF EUROPE theology and metaphysics, from which they did not find it hard to select premises which, duly arranged, gave them conclusions. 20. Suarez, after a prolix discussion, His deHni- comes to the conclusion that tion of eter- " eternal law is the free deter- nai law. mination of the will of God, or- daining a rule to be observed, either, first, generally by all parts of the universe as a means of a common good, whether imme- diately belonging to it in respect of the entire universe, or, at least, in respect of the singular parts thereof; or, secondly, to be specially observed by intellectual creatures in respect of their free opera- tions."* This is not instantly perspicu- ous ; but definitions of a complex nature cannot be rendered such; and I do not know that it perplexes more at first sight than the enunciation of the last proposi- tion in the fifth book of Simson's Euclid, or many others in the conic sections and other parts of geometry. It is, however, what the reader may think curious, that this crabbed piece of scholasticism is no- thing else, in substance, than the Celebra- ted sentence on law which concludes the first book of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Poli- ty. Whoever takes the pains to under- stand Suarez, will perceive that he asserts exactly that which is unrolled in the ma- jestic eloquence of our countryman. 21. By this eternal law God is not ne- cessarily bound. But this seems to be said rather for the sake of avoiding phra- ses which were conventionally rejected by the scholastic theologians, since, in ef- fect, his theory requires the affirmative, as we shall soon perceive ; and he here says that the law is God himself (Deus ipse), and is immutable. This eternal law is not immediately known to man in this life, but either " in other laws, or through them," which he thus explains. " Men, while pilgrims here (viatores homines), cannot learn the Divine will in itself, but only as much as by certain signs or effects is proposed to them ; and hence it is pe- culiar to the blessed in heaven, that, con- templating the Divine will, they are ruled by it as by a direct law. The former know the eternal law, because they par- take of it by other laws, temporal and pos- itive ; for, as second causes display the * Legem asternam esse decretum liberum volun- tatis Dei statuentis ordinem servandum, aut gene- raliter ab omnibus partihus universi in ordme ad commune bonum, vel immediate illi conveniens ra- tione totius universi, vel saltern ratione singularum specierum ejus, aut specialiter servandum a creatu- ns intellectualibus quoad liberas operationes earum, c. 3, 6. Compare with Hooker : Of Law no less can be said than that her throne is the bosom of God, &c. first, and creatures the Creator, so tem- poral laws (by wiiioh. he means laws re spective of man on earth), being streams from that eternal law, manifest the fount- ain whence they spring. Yet all do not arrive even at this degree of knowledge, for all are not able to infer the ca,use from the effect. And thus, though all men ne- cessarily perceive some participation of the eternal laws in themselves, since there is no one endowed with reason who does not, in some manner, acknowledge that what is morally good ought to be chosen, and what is evil rejected, so that, in this sense, men have all some notion of the eternal law, as St. Thomas, and Hales, and Augustin say ; yet, nevertheless, they do not all know it formally, nor are aware of their participation of it, so that it may be said the eternal law is not universally known in a direct manner. But some at- tain that knowledge either by natural rea- soning, or, more properly, by revelation of faith ; and hence we have said that it is known by some only in the inferior laws, but by others through the means of those laws."* 22. In every chapter Snarez propounds the arguments of doctors on either whether side of the problem, ending with G d is a his own determination, which is e frequently a middle course. On the ques- tion, Whether natural law is of itself pre- ceptive, or merely indicative of what is intrinsically right or wrong 1 or, in other words, whether God, as to this law, is a legislator ] he holds this line with Aquinas and most theologians (as he says), con- tending that natural law does not merely indicate right and wrong, but commands the one and prohibits the other ; though this will of God is not the whole ground of the moral good and evil which belongs to the observance or transgression of nat- ural law, inasmuch as it presupposes a certain intrinsic right and wrong in the actions themselves, to which it superadds the special obligation of a divine law. God therefore may be truly called a legis- lator in respect of natural law.f 23. He next comes to a profound but important inquiry, Whether God whether could have permitted by his own God could law actions against natural rea- ^mTen" son? Ockham and Gerson had wrong ac- resolved this in the affirmative, tions? * Lib. ii., c. 4, (/ 9. t Hsec Dei voluntas, prohibitio aut praceptio non est tota ratio bonitatis et malitise quae est in observalione vel transgressione legis naturalis, sed supponit in ipsis actubus necessarian! quandam ho- nestatem vel turpitudinem, et illis adjungit specia- lem legis divinae obligationem, c. 6, 11. FROM 1500 TO 1GOO. 125 Aquinas the contrary way. Suarez as- sents to the latter, and thus determines that the law is strictly immutable. It must follow of course that the pope can- not alter or dispense with the law of na- ture, and he might have spared the four- teenth chapter, wherein he controverts the doctrine of Sanchez and some casuists who had maintained so extraordinary a prerogative.* This, however, is rather epi- sodical. In the fifteenth chapter he treats more at length the question, Whether God can dispense with the law of nature 1 which is not, perhaps, at least according to the notions of many, decided in denying his power to repeal it. He begins by dis- tinguishing three classes of moral laws. The first are the most general, such as that good is to be done rather than evil ; and with these it is agreed that God can- not dispense. The second is of such as the precepts of the decalogue, where the chief difficulty had arisen. Ockham, Pe- ter d'Ailly, Gerson, and others, incline to say that he can dispense with all these, inasmuch as they are only prohibitions which he has himself imposed. These were the heads of the nominalist party ; and their opinion might be connected, though not necessarily, with the denial of the reality of mixed modes. This tenet, Suarez observes, is rejected by all other theologians as false and absurd. He de- cidedly holds that there is an intrinsic goodness in actions independent of the command of God. Scotus had been of opinion that God might dispense with the commandments of the second table, but not those of the first. Durand seems to have thought the fifth commandment (our sixth) more dispensable than the rest, probably on account of the case of Abra- ham. But Aquinas, Cajetan, Soto, with many more, deny absolutely the dispensa- bility of the decalogue in any part. The Gordian knot about the sacrifice of Isaac is cut by a distinction, that God did not act here as a legislator, but in another ca- pacity, as lord of life and death, so that he only used Abraham as an instrument for that which he might have done himself. The third class of moral precepts is of those not contained in the decalogue, as to which he decides also that God cannot dispense with them, though he may change the circumstances upon which their obli- gation rests, as when he releases a vow. 24. The Protestant churches were not generally attentive to casuistical divinity, * Nulla potestas humana, etiainsi pontifica sit, po< test proprium aliquod praeceptum legis naturalis ab- rogare, nee illud proprie et in se minuere, neque in ipso dispensare, f) 8. which smelt too much of the English fas . opposite system. Eichhornob- uists- ier- serves, that the first book of k " il)s ' Ila11 - that class published among the Luther- ans was by a certain Baldwin of Witten- berg, in 16-28.* A few books of casuistry were published in England during this pe- riod, though nothing, as well as 1 remem- ber, that can be reckoned a system or even a treatise of moral philosophy. Per- kins, an eminent Calvinistic divine of the reign of Elizabeth, is the first of these in point of time. His Cases of Conscience appeared in 1606. Of this book I can say nothing from personal knowledge. In the works of Bishop Hall several par- tic-ular questions of this kind arc treated, but not with much ability. His distinc- tions are more than usually feeble. Thus usury is a. deadly sin, but it is very diffi- cult to commit it unless we love the sin for its own sake ; for almost every possi- ble case of lending money will be found, by the limitations of the rule, to justify the taking a profit for the loan.f His casuistry about selling goods is of the same descrip- tion : a man must take no advantage of the scarcity of the commodity, unless there should be just reason to raise the price, which he admits to be often the case in a scarcity. He concludes by observing that in this, as in other well-ordered nations, it would be a happy thing to have a regula- tion of prices. He decides, as all the old casuists did, that a promise extorted by a robber is binding. Sanderson was the most celebrated of the English casuists. His treatise, De Juramenti Obligalione, ap- peared in 1647. 25. Though no proper treatise of moral philosophy came from any Eng- gelden De lish writer in this period, we jure Natu- have one which must be placed ra'U'"^ in this class, strangely as the subject has been handled by its distinguish- ed author. Seldcn, published in 1640, his learned work, De Jure Naturali et Genti- um juxta Disciplinam Ebraeorum.J Tho object of the author was to trace the opinions of the Jews on the law of nature and nations, or of moral obligation, as distinct from the Mosaic law; the former being a law to which they held all man- kind to be bound. This theme had been, of course, untouched by the Greek and Roman philosophers, nor was much to be found upon it in modern writers. His * Vol. vi., part i., p. 346. t Hall's Works (edit. Pratt), vol. viii., p. 375. j Juxta for secundwn, we need hardly say, is bad Latin : it was, however, very common, and is even used by Joseph Scaliger, as Vossius mentions in his treatise De Vitiis Sermonis. 126 LITERATURE OF EUROPE purpose is therefore rather historical than argumentative ; but he seems so general- ly to adopt the Jewish theory of natural law that we may consider him the disciple of the rabbis as much as their historian. 26. The origin of natural law was not Jewish theo- drawn by the Jews, as some of /y or natural the jurists imagined it ought to Uw - be, from the habits and instincts of all animated beings, quod natura omnia animalia docuit, according to the defini- tion of the Pandects. Nor did they deem, as many have done, the consent of mankind and common customs of na- tions to be a sufficient basis for so perma- nent and invariable a standard. Upon the discrepance of moral sentiments and prac- tices among mankind, Selden enlarges in the tone which Sextus Empiricus had taught scholars, and which the world had learned from Montaigne. Nor did unas- sisted reason seem equal to determine moral questions, both from its natural fee- bleness, and because reason alone does not create an obligation, which depends wholly oil the command of a superior.* But God, as the ruler of the universe, has partly implanted in our minds, partly made known to us by exterior revelation, his own will, which is our law. These positions he illustrates with a superb dis- play of erudition, especially Oriental, and certainly with more prolixity, and less re- gard to opposite reasonings, than we should desire. 27. The Jewish writers concur in main- seven precepts taining that certain short pre- of the sons of cepts of moral duty were oral- ly enjoined by God on the pa- rent of mankind, and afterward on the sons of Noah. Whether these were sim- ply preserved by tradition, or whether, by an innate moral faculty, mankind had the power of constantly discerning them, seems to have been an unsettled point. The principal of these divine rules are called, for distinction, The Seven Precepts of the Sons of Noah. There appears, however, to be some variance in the lists, as Selden has given them from the an- cient writers. That most received con- sists of seven prohibitions; namely, of idolatry, blasphemy, murder, adultery, theft, rebellion, and cutting a limb from a living animal. The last of these the sense of which, however, is controverted, as well as the third, but no other are in- dicated in the ninth chapter of Genesis. * Selden says, in his Table-talk, that he can understand no law of nature but a law of God. He might mean this in the sense of Suarez, with- out denying an intrinsic distinction of right and wrong. 28. Selden pours forth his unparalleled stores of erudition on all these character of subjects, and upon those which Seiden-s work. are suggested in the course of his expla- nations. These digressions are by no means the least useful part of his long treatise. They elucidate some obscure passages of Scripture. But the whole work belongs far more to theological than to philosophical investigation, and I have placed it here chiefly out of conformity to usage ; for undoubtedly Selden, though a man of very strong reasoning faculties, had not greatly turned them to the princi- ples of natural law. His reliance on the testimony of Jewish writers, many of them by no means ancient, for those pri- meval traditions as to the sons of Noah, was in the character of his times, but it will scarcely suit the more rigid criticism of our own. His book, however, is ex- cellent for its proper purpose, that of rep- resenting Jewish opinion, and is among the greatest achievements in erudition that any English writer has performed. 29. The moral theories of Grotius and Hobbes are so much interwoven Grotius and with other parts of their philos- Hobbes. ophy, in the treatise De Jure Belli and in the Leviathan, that it would be dissecting those works too much were we to separ- ate what is merely ethical from what falls within the provinces of politics and juris- prudence. The whole must therefore be deferred to the ensuing sections of this chapter. Nor is there much in the wri- tings of Bacon or Descartes which falls, in the sense we have hitherto been con- idering it, under the class of moral phi- losophy. We may therefore proceed to another description of books, relative to the passions and manners of mankind, rather than, in a strict sense, to their du- ;ies, though of course there will frequent- y be some intermixture of subjects so in- imately allied. 30. In the year 1601, Peter Charron, a French ecclesiastic, published his cnarron on Treatise on Wisdom. The rep- wisdom. utation of this work has been considera- )le ; his countrymen are apt to name him with Montaigne ; and Pope has given him the epithet of " more wise" than his pred- cessor, on account, as Warburton ex- presses it, of his " moderating every- where the extravagant Pyrrhonism of his riend." It is admitted that he has cop- ed freely from the Essays of Montaigne ; n fact, a very large portion of the Treatise on Wisdom, not less, I should conjecture, han one fourth, is extracted from them with scarce any verbal alteration. It is not the case that he moderates the skep- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 127 tical tone which he found there ; on the contrary, the most remarkable passages of that kind have been transcribed ; but we must do Charron the justice to say, that he has retrenched the indecencies, the egotism, and the superfluities. Char- ron does not dissemble his debts. " This," he says in his preface, " is the collection of a part of my studies ; the form and method are my own. What I have taken from others I have put in their words, not being able to say it better than they have done." In the political part he has bor- rowed copiously from Lipsius and Bodin, and he is said to have obligations to Du- vair.* The ancients also must have con- tributed their share. It becomes, there- fore, difficult to estimate the place of Charron as a philosopher, because we feel a good deal of uncertainty whether any passage may be his own. He ap- pears to have been a man formed in the school of Montaigne, not much less bold in pursuing the novel opinions of others, but less fertile in original thoughts, so that he often falls into the commonplaces of ethics ; with more reading than his model, with more disciplined habits, as well of arranging and distributing his subject, as of observing the sequence of an argument; but, on the other hand, with far less of ingenuity in thinking and of sprightlincss of language. 31. A writer of rather less extensive LaMothe celebrity than Charron belongs le vayer. full as much to the school of Mon- io"ues' a taigne, though he does not so much pillage his Essays. This was La Mothe le Vayer, a man distin- guished by his literary character in the court of Louis XIII., and ultimately pre- ceptor both to the Duke of Orleans and the young king (Louis XIV.) himself. La Mothe was habitually and universally a skeptic. Among several smaller works we may chiefly instance his Dialogues, published many years after his death un- der the name of Horatius Tubero. They must have been written in the reign of Louis XIII., and belong, therefore, to the present period. In attacking every estab- lished doctrine, especially in religion, he goes much farther than Montaigne, and seems to have taken much of his meta- physical system immediately from Sextus Empiricus. He is profuse of quotation, especially in a dialogue entitled Le Ban- quet Sceptique, the aim of which is to show that there is no uniform taste of mankind as to their choice of food. His mode of arguing against the moral sense Biogr. Universelle. is entirely that of Montaigne ; or, if there be any difference, is more full of the two fallacies by which that lively writer de- ceives himself; namely, the accumulating examples of things arbitrary and fanciful such as modes of dress and conventional usages, with respect to which no one pre- tends that any natural law can be found and, when he comes to subjects more trulj moral, the turning our attention solely tc the external action, and not to the motive or principle, which, under different cir- cumstances, may prompt men to opposite courses. 32. These dialogues are not unpleasing to read, and exhibit a polite though rather pedantic style, riot uncommon in the sev- enteenth century. They are, however, very diffuse, and the skeptical paradoxes become merely commonplace by repeti- tion. One of them is more grossly inde- cent than any part of Montaigne. La Mothe le Vayer is not, on the whole, much to be admired as a philosopher ; little ap- pears to be his own, and still less is real- ly good. He contributed, no question, as much as any one to the irreligion and con- tempt for morality prevailing in that court where he was in high reputation. Some other works of this author may be classed under the same description. 33. We can hardly refer Lord Bacon's Essays to the school of Montaigne, Bacon's though their title may lead us to Essays, suspect that they were, in some measure, uggested by that most popular writer. The first edition, containing ten essays only, and those much shorter than as we low possess them, appeared, as has been already mentioned, in 1597. They were eprinted, with very little variation, in 1606. But the enlarged work was published in 1612, and dedicated to Prince Henry. He ;alls them, in this dedication, " certain )rief notes, set down rather significantly han curiously, which I have called Es- says. The word is late, but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's Epistles to Lucil- us, if you mark them well, are but Es- says, that is, dispersed meditations, though conveyed in the form of epistles." The resemblance, at all events, to Montaigne s not greater than might be expected in ,wo men equally original in genius, and mtirely opposite in their characters and urcumstances. One, by an instinctive fe- icity, catches some of the characteristics of human nature ; the other, by profound eflection, scrutinizes and dissects it. One is too negligent for the inquiring read- sr, the other too formal and sententious for one who seeks to be amused. We de- ight in one, we admire the other; but 128 LITERATURE OF EUROPE this admiration has also its own delight. In one we find more of the sweet temper and tranquil contemplation of Plutarch, in the other more of the practical wisdom and somewhat ambitious prospects of Sen- eca. It is characteristic of Bacon's phil- osophical writings that they have in them a spirit of movement, a perpetual refer- ence to what man is to do in order to an end, rather than to his mere speculation upon what is. In his Essays, this is naturally still more prominent. They are, as quaintly described in the title-page of the first edition, " places (loci) of persua- sion and dissuasion ;" counsels for those who would be great as well as wise. They are such as sprang from a mind ar- dent in two kinds of ambition., and hesita- ting whether to found a new philosophy or to direct the vessel of the state. We per- ceive, however, that the immediate reward attending greatness, as is almost always the case, gave it a preponderance in his mind, and hence his Essays are more oft- en political than moral ; they deal with mankind, not in their general faculties or habits, but in their mutual strife, their en- deavours to rule others or to avoid their rule. He is more cautious and more com- prehensive, though not more acute, than Machiavel, who often becomes too dog- matic through the habit of referring every- thing to a particular aspect of political so- cieties. Nothing in the Prince or the Discourses on Livy is superior to the Es- says on Seditions, on Empire, on Innova- tions, or generally those which bear on the dexterous management of a people by their rulers. Both these writers have what, to our more liberal age, appears a counselling of governors for their own rather than their subjects' advantage ; but as this is generally represented to be the best means, though not, as it truly is, the real end, their advice tends, on the whole, to advance the substantial benefits of gov- ernment. 34. The transcendent strength of Ba- Theirex- con's mind is visible in the whole ceiience. tcnour of these Essays, unequal as they must be from the very nature of such compositions. They are deeper and more discriminating than any earlier, or almost any later, work in the English language, full of recondite observation, long matured and carefully sifted. It is true that we might wish for more vivacity and ease ; Bacon, who had much wit, had little gay- ety ; his Essays are, consequently, stiff and grave where the subject might have been touched with a lively hand ; thus it is in those on Gardens and on Building. The sentences have sometimes too apoph- thegmatic a form, and want coherence, the historical instances, though far less frequent than with Montaigne, have a lit- tle the look of pedantry to our eyes. But it is from this condensation, from this gravity, that the work derives its peculiar impressiveness. Few books are more quoted, and, what is not always the case with such books, we may add, that few are more generally read. In this respect they lead the van of our prose literature ; for no gentleman is ashamed of owning that he has not read the Elizabethan writers ; but it would be somewhat derogatory to a man of the slightest claim to polite let- ters were he unacquainted with the Es- says of Bacon. It is, indeed, little worth while to read this or any other book for reputation' sake ; but very few in our lan- guage so well repay the pains, or afford more nourishment to the thoughts. They might be judiciously introduced, with a small number more, into a sound method of education ; one that should make wis- dom, rather than mere knowledge, its ob- ject, and might become a textbook of ex- amination in our schools. 35. It is rather difficult to fix upon the fittest place for bringing forward Feitham's some books, which, though moral Resolves. in they; subject, belong to the general lit- erature of the age ; and we might strip the province of polite letters of what have been reckoned its chief ornaments. I shall, therefore, select here such only as are more worthy of consideration for their matter than for the style in which it is de- livered. Several that might range, more or less, under the denomination of moral essays, were published both in English and in other languages. But few of them are now read, or even much known by name. One, which has made a better fortune than the rest, demands mention, the Resolves of Owen Feltham. Of this book, the first part of which was published in 1R27, the second not till after the middle of the cen- tury, it is not uncommon to meet with high praises in those modern writers who profess a faithful allegiance to our older literature. For myself, I can only say that Feltham appears not only a laboured and artificial scholar, but a shallow writer. Among his many faults, none strikes me more than a want of depth, which his pointed and sententious manner renders more ridiculous. Sallust, among the an- cients, is a great dealer in such oracular truisms, a style of writing that soon be- comes disagreeable. There are certainly exceptions to this vacuity of original meaning in Feltham ; it would be possible to fill a few pages with extracts not unde- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 129 serving of being read, with thoughts just and judicious, though never deriving much lustre from his diction. He is one of our worst writers in point of style ; with little vigour, he has little elegance ; his English is impure to an excessive degree, and full of words unauthorized by any usage. Pedantry and the novel phrases which Greek and Latin etymology was supposed to warrant, appear in most productions of this period ; but Feltham attempted to bend the English idiom to his own affec- tations. The moral reflections of a se- rious and thoughtful mind are generally pleasing, and to this, perhaps, is partly ow- ing the kind of popularity which the Re- solves of Feltham have obtained ; but they may be had more agreeably and prof- itably in other books.* 36. A superior genius to that of Felt- Browne's nam is exhibited in the Religio Religio Medici of Sir Thomas Browne. 3icL This little book made a remark- able impression ; it was soon translated into several languages, and is highly ex- tolled by Coringius and others, who. could only judge through these versions. Putin, though he rather slights it himself, tells us m one of his letters that it was very pop- ular at Paris. The character which John- son has given of the Religio Medians well known ; and though, perhaps, rather too fa- vourable, appears in general just.f The * This is a random sample of Feltharrvs style : " Of all objects of sorrow, a distressed king is the most pitiful, because it presents us most, the frailty of humanity, and cannot but most midnight the sou! of him that is fallen. The sorrows of a deposed king are like the distorquements of a darted con- science, which none can know but he that hath lost a crown. 1 ' Cent, i., 61. We find, not long after, the following precious phrase : " The nature that is arted with the subtleties of time and practice," i., 63. In one page we have obnubilate, nested, parallel (as a verb), fails (failings), uncurtain, depraving (ca- lumniating), i., 50. And we are to be disgusted with such vile English, or, properly, no English, for the sake of the sleepy saws of a trivial morality. Such defects are not compensated by the better and more striking thoughts we may occasionally light upon. In reading Feltham, nevertheless, I seemed to perceive some resemblance to the tone and way of thinking of the Turkish Spy, which is a great compliment to the former; for the Turkish Spy is neither disagreeable nor superficial. The resetn- jlance must lie in a certain contemplative melan- :holy, rather serious than severe, in respect to the \orld and its ways; and as Feltham's Resolves seem to have a charm, by the editions they have gone through and the good name they have gained, 1 can only look for it in this. t "The Religio Medici was no sooner published than it excited the attention of the public by the novelty of paradoxes, the dignity of sentiment, the quick succession of images, the multitude of ab- struse allusions, the subtlety of disquisition, and the strength of language." Life of Browne (in John- son's Works, xii., 275). VOL. II. R mind of Browne was fertile, and, according to the current use of the word, ingenious : his analogies are original and sometimes brilliant ; and as his learning is also of things out of the beaten path, this gives a peculiar and uncommon air to all his wri- tings, and especially to the Religio Medici. He was, however, far removed from real philosophy, both by his turn of mind and by the nature of his erudition ; he seldom reasons ; his thoughts are desultory ; some- times he appears skeptical or paradoxical, but credulity and deference to authority prevail. He belonged to the class, numer- ous at that time incur church, who halted between popery and Protestantism ; and this gives him, on all such topics, an ap- pearance of vacillation and irresoluteness which probably represents the real state of his mind. His paradoxes do not seem very original, nor does he arrive at them by any process of argument; they are more like traces of his reading casually suggesting themselves, and supported by his own Higenuity. His style is not flow- ing, bat vigorous ; his choice of words not elegant, and even approaching to barba- rism as English phrase ; yet there is an im- pressiveness, an air of reflection and sin- cerity iu Browne's writings, which redeem many of their faults. His egotism is equal to that of Montaigne, but with this differ- ence, that it is the egotism of a melan- choly mind, which generally becomes un- pleasing. This melancholy temperament is characteristic of Browne. " Let's talk of graves, and worms, and epitaphs" seems his motto. His best written work, the Hydriotaphia, is expressly an essay on se- pulchral urns ; but the same taste for the circumstances of mortality leavens also the Religio Medici. 37. The thoughts of Sir Walter Raleigh on moral prudence are few, but seiden's Ta- precious. And some of the ble - talk - bright sallies of Selden recorded in his Table-talk are of the same description, though the book is too miscellaneous to fall under any single head of classification. The editor of this very short and small volume, which gives, perhaps, a more ex- alted notion of Selden's natural talents than any of his learned writings, requests the reader to distinguish times, and " in his fancy to carry along with him the when and the why many of these things were spoken." This intimation accounts for the different spirit in which he may seem to combat the follies of the prelates at one time, and of the Presbyterians or fanatics at another. These sayings are not always, apparently, well reported ; ome seem to have been misunderstood, LITERATURE OF EUROPE and in others the limiting clauses to have been forgotten. But, on the whole, they are full of vigour, raciness, and a kind of scorn of the half-learned, far less rude, but more cutting than that of Scaliger. It has been said that the Table-talk of Selden is worth all the Ana of the Continent. In this I should be disposed to concur ; but they are not exactly works of the same class. 38. We must now descend much lower, Osbom's and . c ul(i mid little worth remem- Adviceto bering. Osborn's Advice to his his Son g on ma y b e reckoned among the moral and political writings of this period. It is not very far above mediocrity, and contains a good deal that is commonplace, yet with a considerable sprinkling of sound sense and observation. The style is rath- er apophthegmatic, though by no means more so than was then usual. 39. A few books, English as well as John Vaien- foreign, are purposely deferred tine Andrea;. f or t,jj e present; I am rather ap- prehensive that I shall be fountf to have overlooked some not unworthy of notice. One, written in Latin by a German writer, has struck me as displaying a spirit which may claim for it a place' among the livelier and lighter class, though with serious in- tent, of moral essays. John Valentine Andreac was a man above his age, and a singular contrast to the narrow and pedan- tic herd of German scholars and theologi- ans. He regarded all things around him with a sarcastic but benevolent philosophy, keen in exposing the errors of mankind, yet only for the sake of amending them. It has been supposed by many that he in- vented the existence of the famous Rosi- crucian society, not so much, probably, for the sake of mystification, as to suggest an institution so praiseworthy and philan- thropic as he delineated for the imitation of mankind. This, however, is still a de- bated problem in Germany.* But, among his numerous writings, that alone of which I know anything is entitled in the original Latin Mythologia? Christiana?, sive Virtu- turn et Vitiorum Vita? Humana? Imaginum Libri Tres (Strasburg, 1618). Herder has translated a part of this book in the fifth volume of his Zerstreute Blatter ; and it is here that I have met with it. Andrea^ wrote, I believe, solely in Latin, and his works appear to be scarce, at least in Eng- land. These short apologues, which Her- der has called Parables, are written with uncommon terseness of language, a hap- py and original vein of invention, and a * Brucker, Lv., 735. Biogr. Univ., art. Andreae, et alibi. philosophy looking down on common life without ostentation and without passion. He came, too, before Bacon ; but he had learned to scorn the disputes of the schools, and had sought for truth with an entire love, even at the hands of Cardan and Campanella. I will give a specimen, in a note, of the peculiar manner of An- drea? ; but my translation does not, per- haps, justice to that of Herder. The idea, it may be observed, is now become more trite.* SECT. II. ON POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. Change in the Character of Political Writings. Bellenden and others. Patriarchal Theory refu- ted by Suarez. Allhusius. Political Economy of Serra. Hobbes and Analysis of his Politi- cal Treatises. 40. THE recluse philosopher, who, like Descartes in his country-house near Utrecht, investigates the properties of quantity or the operations of the human mind while nations are striving for con- quest and factions for ascendancy, hears that tumultuous uproar but as the dash of the ocean waves at a distance ; and it may even serve, like music that falls upon the poet's ear, to wake in him some new train of high thought, or, at the least, to confirm his love of the absolute and the eternal by comparison with the imperfec- * " The Pen and the Sword strove with each other for superiority, and the voices of the judges were divided. The men of learning talked much and persuaded many ; the men of arms were fierce, and compelled many to join their side. Thus no- thing could be determined ; it followed that both were left to fight it out, and settle their dispute in single combat. " On one side books rustled in the libraries, on the other arms rattled in the arsenals ; men looked on in hope and fear, and waited the end. "The Pen, consecrated to truth, 'was notorious for much falsehood ; the Sword, a servant of God, was stained with innocent blood ; both hoped for the aid of Heaven, both found its wrath. "The State, which had need of both, and disli- ked the manners of both, would put on the appear- ance of caring for the weal and wo of neither. The Pen was weak, but quick, glib, well exercised, and very bold when one provoked it. The Sword was stern, implacable, but less compact and subtle, so that on both sides the victory remained uncertain. At length, for the security "of both, the common weal pronounced that both in turn should stand by her side and bear with each other. For that only is a happy country where the Pen and the Sword are faithful servants, not where either governs by its arbitrary will and passion." If the touches in this little piece are not always clearly laid on, it may be ascribed as much, perhaps, to their having passed through two translations as to the fault of the excellent writer. But in this early age we seldom find the entire neatness and felicity which later times attained. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 131 tion and error that besets the world. Such is the serene temple of philosophy which the Roman poet has contrasted with the storm and the battle, with the passions of the great and the many, the perpetual struggle of man against his fellows. But if he who might dwell on this vantage- ground descends into the plain, and takes so near a view of the world's strife that he sees it as a whole very imperfectly, while the parts to which he approaches are magnified beyond their proportion ; if especially he mingles with the combat, and shares its hopes and its perils, though in many respects he may know more than those who keep aloof, he will lose some- thing of that faculty of equal and compre- hensive vision, in which the philosophical temper consists. Such has very frequent- ly, or more or less, perhaps, in almost ev- ery instance, been the fate of the writer on general politics ; if his pen has not been solely employed with a view to the ques- tions that engage attention in his own age, it has generally been guided, in a certain degree, by regard to them. 41. In the sixteenth century we have seen that notions of popular Abandon- . , , , - ., . ., ,-^ /. mcntof ami- rights and of the amissibility of monarchical sovereign power for miscon- theories {]l]ct were a j ternat ely broached by the two great religious parties of Eu- rope, according to the necessity in which they stood for such weapons against their adversaries. Passive obedience was preached as a duty by the victorious, re- bellion was claimed as a right by the vanquished. The history of France and England, and partly of other countries, was the clew to these politics. But in the following period, a more tranquil state of public opinion, and a firmer hand upon the reins of power, put an end to such books as those of Languet, Buchanan, Rose, and Mariana. The last of these, by the vindi- cation of tyrannicide in his treatise De Rege, contributed to bring about a reaction in political literature. The Jesuits in France, whom Henry IV. was inclined to favour, publicly condemned the doctrine of Mariana in 1606. A book by Becanus, and another by Suarez, justifying regicide, were condemned by the Parliament of Paris in 1612.* The assassination, in- deed, of Henry IV., committed by one, not, perhaps, metaphysically speaking, sane, but whose aberration of intellect had evi- dently been either brought on or nourished by the pernicious theories of that school, created such an abhorrence of the doc- trine, that neither the Jesuits nor others * Mezeray, Hist, de la M&re et du Fils. ventured afterward to teach it. Those, also, who magnified, as far as circum- stances would permit, the alleged suprem- acy of the See of Rome over temporal princes, were little inclined to set up, like Mariana, a popular sovereignty, a right of the multitude not emanating from the Church, and to which the Church itself might one day be under the necessity of submitting. This became, therefore, a pe- riod favourable to the theories of absolute power ; not so much shown by means of their positive assertion through the press, as by the silence of the press, compara- tively speaking, on all political theories whatever. 42. The political writings of this part of the seventeenth century assumed, in consequence, more of an his- literature torical, or, as we might say, a sta- becomes tistical character. Learning was hlslorical - employed in systematic analyses of an- cient or modern forms of government, in dissertations explanatory of institutions, in copious and exact statements of the true, rather than arguments upon the right or the expedient. Some of the very nu- merous works of Herman Coringius, a professor at Helmstadt, seem to fall with- in this description. But none are better known than a collection made by the El- zevirs, at different times near the middle of this century, containing accounts, chiefly published before, of the political constitu- tions of European commonwealths. This collection, which is in volumes of the smallest size, may be called, for distinction, the Elzevir Republics. It is very useful in respect of the knowledge of facts it im- parts, but rarely contains anything of a philosophical nature. Statistical descrip- tions of countries are much allied to these last; some, indeed, are included in the Elzevir series. They were, as yet, not frequent ; but I might have mentioned in the first volume one of the earliest, the Description of the Low Countries by Lu- dovico Guicciardini, brother of the his- torian. 43. Those, however, were not entirely wanting who took a more philo- Beiienden sophical view of the social rela- destaiu. tions of mankind. Among these a very re- spectable place should be assigned to a Scotsman, by name Beiienden, whose trea- tise De Statu,in three books, is dedicated to Prince Charles in 1615. The first of these books is entitled De Statu prisci orbis in religione, re politica et literis; the sec- ond, Ciceronis Princeps, sive de statu principis et imperii ; the third, Ciceronis Consul, Senator, Senatusque Romanus, sive de statu reipublicae et urbis imperan- LITERATURE OF EUROPE lis orbi. The first two books are, in a general sense, political ; the last relates entirely to the Roman polity, but builds much political precept on this. Bellenden seems to have taken a more comprehen- sive view of history in his first book, and to have reflected more philosophically on it, than perhaps any one had done before ; at least I do not remember any work of so early an age which reminds me so much of Vico and the Grandeur et Deca- dence of Montesquieu. We can hardly make an exception for Bodin, because the Scot is so much more regularly historical, and so much more concise. The first book contains little more than forty pages. Bellenden's learning is considerable, and without that pedantry of quotation which makes most books of the age intolerable. The latter parts have less originality and reach of thought. This book was re- printed, as is well known, in 1787 ; but the celebrated preface of the editor has had the effect of eclipsing the original author ; Parr was constantly read and talked of, Bellenden never. 44. The Politics of Campanella are Campa- w ^ r P e d by a desire to please the lieiia's court of Rome, which he recom- Poiitics. m ends as fit t enjoy a universal monarchy, at least by supreme control ; and observes with some acuteness, that no prince had been able to obtain a uni- versal ascendant over Christendom, be- cause the presiding vigilance of the Holy See has regulated their mutual conten- tions, exalting one and depressing another, as seemed expedient for the good of re- ligion.* This book is pregnant with deep reflection on history ; it is enriched, per- haps, by the study of Bodin, but is much LaMothe more concise. In one of the Dia- le vayer. logues of La Mothe le Vayer, we find the fallacy of some general maxims in politics drawn from a partial induction well exposed, by showing the instances where they have wholly failed. Though he pays high compliments to Louis XIII. and to Richelieu, he speaks freely enough, in his skeptical way, of the general advan- tages of monarchy. 45. Gabriel Naude, a man of extensive Naude's learning, acute understanding, and coups many good qualities, but rather lax in religious and moral principle, ex- cited some attention by a very small vol- ume, entitled Considerations sur les coups d'etat, which he wrote while young, at * Nullus hacterras Christianus princeps mo- narchiam super cunctos Christianos populos sibi cpnservare potuit. Quoniam papa praeest illis, et dissipat erigitque illorum conatus prout religion! expedit. C. 8. Rome, in the service of the Cardinal de Bagne. In this he maintains the bold contempt of justice and humanity in po- litical emergencies which had brought dis- grace on the Prince of Machiavel, blaming those who, in his own country, had aban- doned the defence of the St. Bartholomew massacre. The book is, in general, heavy and not well written ; but, coming from a man of cool head, clear judgment, and considerable historical knowledge, it con- tains some remarks not unworthy of notice. 46. The ancient philosophers, the civil lawyers, and by far the majority Pa , ri8rchal of later writers had derived the iiieory of origin of government from some overnme '- agreement, or tacit consent, of the com- munity. Bodin, explicitly rejecting this hypothesis, referred it to violent usurpa- tion. But in England, about the begin- ning of the reign of James, a different theory gained with the Church; it was assumed, for it did not admit of proof, that a patriarchal authority had been transfer- red by primogeniture to the heir-general of the human race -, so that kingdoms were but enlarged families, and an indefeasible right of monarchy was attached to their natural chief, which, in consequence of the impossibility of discovering him, devolved upon the representative of the first sov- ereign who could be historically proved to have reigned over any nation. This had not, perhaps, hitherto been maintained at length in any published book, but will be found to have been taken for granted in more than one. It was, of course, in favour with James I., who had a very strong hereditary title ; and it might seem to be countenanced by the fact of Highland and Irish clanship, which does really affect to rest on a patriarchal basis. 47. This theory as to the origin of po- litical society, or one akin to it, Refuted by appears to have been espoused Suarez. by some on the Continent. Suarez, in the second book of his great work on law, observes, in a remarkable passage, that certain canonists hold civil magistracy to have been conferred by God on some prince, and to remain always in his heirs by succession ; but " that such an opinion has neither authority nor foundation. For this power, by its very nature, belongs to no one man, but to a multitude of men. This is a certain conclusion, being com- mon to all our authorities, as we find by St. Thomas, by the civil laws, and by the great canonists and casuists ; all of whom agree that the prince has that power of law-giving which the people have given him. And the reason is evident^ since all FROM 1600 TO 1650. 133 injn are born equal, and, consequently, no one has a political jurisdiction over an- other, nor any dominion ; nor can we give any reason from the nature of the thing why one man should govern another rath- er than the contrary. It is true that one might allege the primacy which Adam at his creation necessarily possessed, and hence deduce his government over all men, and suppose that to be derived by some one, either through primogenitary descent, or through the special appoint- ment of Adam himself. Thus Chrysostom has said that the descent of all men from Adam signifies their subordination to one sovereign. But, in fact, we could only in- fer from the creation and natural origin of mankind that Adam possessed a domestic or patriarchal (oeconomicam), not a po- litical authority ; for he had power over his wife, and afterward a paternal power over his sons till they were emancipated ; and he might even, in course of time, have servants and a complete family, and that power in respect of them which is called patriarchal. But after families began to be multiplied, and single men who were heads of families to be separated, they had each tho same power with respect to their own families. Nor did political power begin to exist till many families began to be collected into one entire community. Hence, as that community did not begin by Adam's creation, nor by any will of his, but by that of all who formed it, we cannot properly say that Adam had nat- urally a politicial headship in such a so- ciety ; for there are no principles of reason from which this could be inferred, since, by the law of nature, it is no right of the progenitor to be even king of his own posterity. And if this cannot be proved by the principles of natural law, we have no ground for asserting that God has given such a power by a special gift or provi- dence, inasmuch as we have no revelation or Scripture testimony to the purpose."* So clear, brief, and dispassionate a refuta- tion might have caused our English di- vines, who became very fond of this patri- archal theory, to blush before the Jesuit of Granada. 48. Suarez maintains it to be of the es- His opinion sence of a law that it be exacted of law. f or th e public good. An unjust law is no law, and does not bind the con- science.! In this he breathes the spirit of Mariana. But he shuns some of his bolder assertions. He denies the right of rising in arms against a tyrant unless he * Lib. ii., c. 2, 3. t Lib. i., c 7; and lib. iii., c. 22. is a usurper; and though he is strongly for preserving the concession made by the kings of Spain to their people, that no taxes shall be levied without the consent of the Cortes, does not agree with those who lay it down as a general rule, that no prince can impose taxes on his people by his own will.* Suarez asserts the di- rect power of the Church over heretical princes, but denies it as to infidels. f In this last point, as has been seen, he fol- lows the most respectable authorities of his nation. 49. Bayle has taken notice of a sys- tematic treatise on Politics by John Al- thusius, a native of Germany. Of this I have only seen an edition published at Groningen in 1615, and dedicated to the states of West Friesland. It seems, how- ever, from the article in Bayle, that there was one printed at Herborn in 1603. Sev- eral German writers inveigh against this work as full of seditious principles, in- imical to every government. It is a po- litical system, taken chiefly from prece- ding authors, and very freely from Bodin ; with great learning, but not very profitable to read. The ephori, as he calls them, by which he means the estates of a kingdom, have the right to resist a tyrant. But this right he denies to the private citizen. His chapter on this subject is written more in the tone of the sixteenth than the seven- teenth century, which, indeed, had scarcely" commenced.! He answers in it Albericus Gentilis, Barclay, and others who had con- tended for passive obedience, not failing to draw support from the canonists and civilians whom he quotes. But the strong- est passage is in his dedication to the States of Friesland. Here he declares his principle, that the supreme power or sov- ereignty (jus majestatis) does not reside in the chief magistrate, but in the people themselves, and that no other is proprietor or usufructuary of it, the magistrate being the administrator of this supreme power, but not its owner, nor entitled to use it for his benefit. And these rights of sov- ereignty are so mucl^ponfined to the whole community, that they can no more alien- ate them to another, whether they will or not, than a man can transfer his own life. 50. Few, even among the Calvinists, whose form of government was in some * Lib. v., c. 17. t Lib. iii., c. 10. Cap. 38. De tyrannide et ejus remediis. Adininistratorem, procuratorem, gubernatorem jurium majestatis, principem agnosco. Proprietari- um vero et usui'ructuarium majestatis nullum alium quam populum universum in corpus unum symbi- oticum ex pluribus minoribus consociationibus con- sociatum, &c. 134 LITERATURE OF EUROPE cases republican, would, in the seventeenth century, have approved this strong lan- guage of Althusius. But one of their no- ted theologians, Paraeus, incurred the cen- sure of the University of Oxford in 1623 for some passages in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans which seemed to impugn their orthodox tenet of unlimit- ed submission. He merely holds that sub- jects, when not private men, but inferior magistrates, may defend themselves, and the state, and the true religion even by arms against the sovereign under certain conditions ; because these superior magis- trates are themselves responsible to the laws of God and of the state.* It was, in truth, impossible to deny the right of resistance in such cases without " brand- ing the unsmirched brow" of Protestant- ism itself ; for by what other means had the reformed religion been made to flour- ish in Holland and Geneva, or in Scot- land 1 But in England, where it had been planted under a more auspicious star, there was little occasion to seek this vin- dication of the Protestant Church, which had not, in the legal phrase, come in by disseisin of the state, but had united with the state to turn out of doors its predeces- sor. That the Anglican refugees under Mary were ripe enough for resistance, or even regicide, has been seen in the former volume, by an extract from one of their most distinguished prelates. 51. Bacon ought to appear as a promi- Bacon ? ent name m political philosophy, if we had never met with it in any other. But we have anticipated much of his praise on this score ; and it is- suffi- cient to repeat generally, that on such sub- jects he is among the most sagacious of mankind. It would be almost ridiculous to descend from Bacon, even when his gi- ant shadow does but pass over our scene, to the feebler class of political moralists, such as Saavedra, author of Idea di un principe politico, a wretched effort of Spain in her degeneracy ; but an Italian writer must not be neglected, from the remarkable circumstance that he is es- teemed one of the first who have treated * Subditi non privati, sed in magistratu inferiori constitui adversus superiorem magistratum se et rempublicam et ec.clesiam seu veram religionem etiam armis defendere jure possurit, his positis conditionibus : 1. Cum superior magistratus de- generat in tyrannum ; 2. Aut ad manifestam idolo- latriam atque blasphemias ipsos vel subditos alios vult cogere ; 3. Cum ipsis atrox infertur injuria ; 4. Si aliter incolumes fortunis vita et conscientia esse non possint ; 5. Ne prsetextu religionis aut justitiap sua quaerant ; 6. Servata semper cxuiKcia et moderamine inculpatae tutelse juxta leges. Pa- raeus in Epist. ad Roman., col. 1350. the science of political oeconomy. political It must, however, be understood, economy, that besides what may be found on the subject in the ancients, many valuable ob- servations which must be referred to po- litical ceconomy occur in Bodin ; that the Italians had, in the sixteenth century, a few tracts on coinage ; that Botero touch- es some points of the science, and that in English there were, during the same age, pamphlets on public wealth, especially one entitled A Brief Conceit of English Policy.* 52. The author to whom we allude is Antonia Serra, a native of Co- Serra on the senza, whose short treatise on jnwuisofob- ... . (aiding mod- ule causes which may render e \ without gold and silver abundant in m ilie3 - countries that have no mines is dedicated to the Count de Lemos, " from the prison of Vicaria, this tenth day of July, 1613." It has hence been inferred, but without a shadow of proof, that Serra had been en- gaged in the conspiracy of his fellow-citi- zen Campanella fourteen years before. The dedication is in a tone of great flat- tery, but has no allusion to the cause of his imprisonment, which might have been any other. He purposes, in his preface, not to discuss political government in gen- eral, of which he thinks that the ancients have treated sufficiently, if we well un- derstood their works, and still less of jus- tice and injustice, the civil law being enough for this ; but merely of what are the causes that render a country destitute of mines abundant in gold and silver, which no one has ever considered, though some have taken narrow views, and fan- cied that a low rate of exchange is the sole means of enriching a country. 53. In the first part of this treatise, Serra divides the causes of wealth, that His causes is, of abundance of money, into of wealth. general and particular accidents (accident! communi e proprj), meaning by the for- mer circumstances which may exist in any country, by the latter such as are pe- culiar to some. The common accidents are four : abundance of manufactures, character of the inhabitants, extent of commerce, and wisdom of government. The peculiar are, chiefly, the fertility of the soil and convenience of geographical position. Serra prefers manufactures to * This bears the initials of W. S., which some have idiotically taken for William Shakspeare. I have some reason to believe that there was an edi- tion considerably earlier than that of 1584, but, from circumstances unnecessary to mention, can- not produce the manuscript authority on which this opinion is founded. It has been reprinted more than once, if 1 mistake not, in modern times. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 135 agriculture ; one of his reasons is their indefinite capacity of multiplication ; for no man whose laud is fully cultivated by sowing a hundred bushels of wheat, can sow with profit a hundred and fifty ; but in manufactures he may not only double the produce, but do this a hundred times over, and that with less proportion of ex- pense. Though this is now evident, it is, perhaps, what had not been much remark- ed before. 54. Venice, according to Serra, held His praise the first place as a commercial of Venice. c [ t y^ not on ly j n Italy, but ill Eu- rope ; " for experience demonstrates that all the merchandises which come from Asia to Europe pass through Venice, and thence are distributed to other parts." But, as this must, evidently exclude all the traffic by the Cape of Good Hope, we can only understand Serra to mean the trade with the Levant. It is, however, worthy of observation, that we are apt to fall into a vulgar error in supposing that Venice was crushed, or even materially affected, as a commercial city, by the dis- coveries of the Portuguese. She was, in fact, more opulent, as her buildings of themselves may prove, in the sixteenth century than in any preceding age. The French trade from Marseilles to the Le- vant, which began later to flourish, was what impoverished Venice, rather than that of Portugal with the East Indies. This republic was the perpetual theme of admiration with the Italians. Serra com- pares Naples with Venice : one, he says, exports grain to a vast amount, the other imports its whole subsistence ; money is valued higher at Naples, so that there is a profit in bringing it in : its export is for- bidden : at Venice it is free ; at Naples the public revenues are expended in the kingdom ; at Venice they are principally hoarded. Yet Naples is poor and Venice rich. Such is the effect of her commerce and of the wisdom of her government, which is always uniform, while in king- doms, and far more in viceroyalties. the system changes with the persons. In Venice the method of choosing magis- trates is in such perfection, that no one can come in by corruption or favour, nor can any one rise to high offices who has liot been tried in the lower. 55. All causes of wealth except those he has enumerated, Serra holds exchange to be subaltern or temporary ; not essential thus the low rate of exchange allh- is subject to the common acci- dents of commerce. It seems, however, to have been a theory of superficial rea- eoners on public wealth, that it depended on the exchanges far more than is really the, case ; and, in the second part of this treatise, Serra opposes a particular writer, named De Santis, who had accounted in this way alone for abundance of money in a state. Serra thinks that to reduce the weight of coin may sometimes be an al- lowable expedient, and better than to raise its denomination. The difference seems not very important. The coin of Naples was exhausted by the revenues of absentee proprietors, which some had proposed to withhold; a measure" to which Serra just- ly objects. This book has been reprinted at Milan in the collection of the Italian (Economists, and, as it anticipates the principles of what has been called the mercantile theory, deserves some atten- tion in following the progress of opinion. The once celebrated treatise of Mun, Eng- land's Treasure by foreign Trade, is sup- posed to have been written before 1640 ; but, as it was not published till after the Restoration, we may postpone it to the next period. 56. Last in time among political phi- losophers before the middle of the Hobbes. century we find the greatest and HIS poiiti- most famous, Thomas Hobbes. calworks - His treatise De Cive was printed in 1642 for his private friends. It obtained, how- ever, a considerable circulation, and exci- ted some animadversion. In 1647 he pub- lished it at Amsterdam, with notes to vin- dicate and explain what had been cen- sured. In 1650 an English treatise, with the Latin title De Corpore Politico, ap- peared ; and in 1651 the complete system of his philosophy was given to the world in the Leviathan. These three works bear somewhat the same relation to one another as the Advancement of Learning does to the treatise de Augmentis Scien- tiarum ; they are, in effect, the same ; the same order of subjects, the same argu- ments, and, in most places, either the same words, or such variances as occur- red to the second thoughts of the writer ; but much is more copiously illustrated and more clearly put in the latter than in the former ; while much also, from whatever cause, is withdrawn or considerably mod- ified. Whether the Leviathan is to be reckoned so exclusively his last thoughts that we should presume him to have re- tracted the passages that do not apnear in it, is what every one must determine for himself. I shall endeavour to present a comparative analysis of the three treati- ses, with some preference to the last. 57. Those, he begins by observing, who have hitherto written upon civil polity have assumed that man is an animal fra- 136 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Analysis of nied for society; as if nothing his three else were required for the insti treatises. tution of commonwealths than that men should agree upon some terms o compact which they call laws. But thi: is entirely false. That men do naturally seek each other's society he admits in note on the published edition of De Give but political societies are not mere meet- ings of men, but unions founded on the faith of covenants. Nor does the desire of men for society imply that they are fit for it. Many may desire it who will not readily submit to its necessary condi- tions.* This he left out in the two other treatises, thinking it, perhaps, too great a concession to admit any desire of society in man. 58. Nature has made little odds among men of mature age as to strength 'or knowledge. No reason, therefore, can be given why one should, by any intrinsic superiority, command others, or possess more than they. But there is a great dif- ference in their passions ; some through vainglory seeking pre-eminence over their fellows, some willing to allow equality, but not to lose what they know to be good for themselves. And this contest can only be decided by battle, showing which is the stronger. 59. All men desire to obtain good and to avoid evil, especially death. Hence they have a natural right to preserve their own lives and limbs, and to use all means necessary for this end. Every man is judge for himself of the necessity of the means and the greatness of the danger. And hence he has a right by nature to all things, to do what he wills to others, to possess and enjoy all he can. For he is the only judge whether they tend or not to his preservation. But every other man has the same right. Hence there can be no injury towards another in a state of nature. Not that in such a state a man may not sin agaihst God, or transgress the laws of nature. f But injury, which is doing anything without right, implies hu- man laws that limit right. 60. Thus the state of man in natural * Societates autem c'viles non sunt meri con- gressus, sed foedera, quibus faciendis fides et pacta necessaria sunt. . . . Alia res est appetere, alia esse capacem. Appetunt enim illi qui tamen condi- tiones aquas, sine quibus societas esse non potest, accipere per superbiam non dignantur. t Non quod in tali statu peccare in Deum, aut leges naturales violare impossible sit. Nam injus- titia erga homines supponit leges humanas, quales in statu natural! nullae sunt. De Give, c. 1. This he left out in the later treatises. He says after- ward (sect. 28), omne damnum homini illatumlegis naturalis violatio atque in Deum injuria est. liberty is a state of war, a war of every man against every man, wherein the no- tions of right and wrong, justice and in- justice, have no place. Irresistible might gives of itself right, which is nothing but the physical liberty of using our power as we will for our own preservation, and what we deem conducive to it. But as, through the equality of natural powers, no man possesses this irresistible superiority, this state of universal war is contrary to his own good, which he necessarily must desire. Hence his reason dictates that he should seek peace as far as he can, and strengthen himself by all the helps of war against those with whom he cannot have peace. This, then, is the first fundament- al law of nature. For a law of nature is nothing else than a rule or precept found out by reason for the avoiding what may be destructive to our life. 61. From this primary rule another fol- lows, that a man should be willing, when others are so too, as far forth as for peace and defence of himself he shall think it necessary, to lay down his right to all things, and to be contented with so much liberty against other men as he would al- low to other men against himself. This may be done by renouncing his right to anything, which leaves it open to all, or by transferring it specially to another. Some rights, indeed, as those to his life and limbs, are inalienable, and no man lays down the right of resisting those who attack them. But, in general, he is bound not to hinder those to whom he has grant- ed or abandoned his own right from avail- ing themselves of it ; and such hinderance is injustice or injury ; that is, it is sinejtire, his jus being already gone. Such injury may be compared to absurdity in argu- ment, being in contradiction to what he ias already done, as an absurd proposition s in contradiction to what the speaker has already allowed. 62. The next law of nature, according o Hobbes, is that men should fulfil their :ovenants. What contracts and cove- lants are he explains in the usual manner. Mone can 1 covenant with God unless by special revelation ; therefore vows are not binding, nor do oaths add anything to the swearer's obligation. But covenants en- tered into by fear he holds to be binding n a state of nature, though they may be annulled by the law. That the observ- mce of justice, that is, of our covenants, s never against reason, Hobbes labours o prove; for, if ever its violation may lave turned out successful, this being con- rary to probable expectation, ought not o influence us. "That which gives to FROM 1600 TO 1650. 137 human actions the relish of justice is certain nobleness or gallantness of cour age rarely found ; by which a man scorn to be beholden for the contentment of hi life to fraud or breach of promise."* 1 short gleam of something above the creep ing selfishness of his ordinary morality ! 63. He then enumerates many othe laws of nature, such as gratitude, com plaisance, equity, all subordinate to th main one of preserving peace by the limi tation of the natural right, as he supposes to usurp all. These laws are immutable and eternal ; the science of them is the only true science of moral philosophy For that is nothing but the science of wha is good and evil in the conversation am society of mankind. In a state of nature private appetite is the measure of gooc and evil. But all men agree that peace is good ; and, therefore, the means of peace which are the moral virtues or laws of nature, are good also, and their contrarie evil. These laws of nature are not prop- erly called such, but conclusions of reason as to what should be done or abstained from ; they are but theorems concerning what conduces to conservation and de- fence ; whereas law is strictly the word of him that by right has command over others. But, so far as these are enacted by God in Scripture, they are truly laws. 64. These laws of nature, being contra- ry to our natural passions, are but words of no strength to secure any one without a controlling power. For, till such a power is erected, every man will rely on his own force and skill. Nor will the conjunction of a few men or families be sufficient for security, nor that of a great multitude guided by their own particular judgments and appetites. " For if we could suppose a great multitude of men to consent in the observation of justice and other laws of nature, without a common power to keep them all in awe, we might as well suppose all mankind to do the same, and then there neither would be, nor need to be, any civil government or commonwealth at all, because tl^ere would be peace with- out subjection."! Hence it becomes ne- cessary to confer all their power on one man or assembly of men, to bear their person or represent them ; so that every one shall own himself author of what shall be done by such representative. It is a covenant of each with each, that he will be governed in such a manner if the other will agree to the same. This is the gen- eration of the great Leviathan or mortal God, to whom, under the immortal God, * Leviathan, c. 15. VOL. II. S t Id., c. 17. we owe our peace and defence. In him consists the essence of the commonwealth, which is one person, of whose acts a greal multitude, by mutual covenant, have made themselves the authors. 65. This person (including, of course, an assembly as well as individual) is the sovereign, and possesses sovereign pow- er. And such power may spring from agreement or from force. A common- wealth by agreement or institution is when a multitude do agree and covenant one with another, that whatever the major part shall agree to represent them shall be the representative of them all. After this has been done, the subjects cannot change their government without its consent, be- ing bound by mutual covenant to own its actions. If any one man should dissent, the rest would break their covenant with him. But there is no covenant with the sovereign. He cannot have covenanted with the whole multitude as one party, because it has no collective existence till the commonwealth is formed ; nor with each man separately, because the acts of the sovereign are no longer his sole acts, but those of the society, including him who would complain of the breach. Nor can the sovereign act unjustly towards a subject ; for he who acts by another's au- thority cannot be guilty of injustice to- wards him ; he may, it is true, commit ini- quity, that is, violate the laws of God and nature, but not injury. 66. The sovereign is necessarily judge of all proper means of defence, of what doctrines shall be taught, of all disputes and complaints, of rewards and punish- ments, of war and peace with neighbour- ng commonwealths, and even of what shall be held by each subject in property. Property, he Admits in one place, existed n families before the institution of civil society ; but between different families .here was no meum and tuum. These are jy the law and command of the sover- ign ; and hence, though every subject may have a right of property against his "ellow, he can have none against the sov- 3reign. These rights are incommunica- ble, and inseparable from the sovereign xnver ; there are others of minor impor- ance which he may alienate ; but if any one of the former is taken away from him, ceases to be truly sovereign. 67. The sovereign power cannot be lim- ted nor divided. Hence there can be but hree simple forms of commonwealth ; monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. The first he greatly prefers. The king las no private interest apart from the peo- le, whose wealth, honour, security from 138 LITERATURE OF EUROPE enemies, internal tranquillity, are evident- ly for his own good. But in the other forms each man may have a private ad- vantage to seek. In popular assemblies there is always an aristocracy of orators, interrupted sometimes by the temporary monarchy of one orator. And though a king may deprive a man of all he possess- es to enrich a flatterer or favourite, so may also a democratic assembly, where there may be as many Neros as orators, each- with the whole power of the people he governs. And these orators are usu- ally more powerful to hurt others than to save them. A king may receive counsel of whom he will, an assembly from those only who have a right to belong to it ; nor can their counsel be secret. They are also more inconstant both from passion and from their numbers ; the absence of a few often undoing all that had been done before. A king cannot disagree with him- self, but an assembly may do so, even to producing civil war. 68. An elective or limited king is not the sovereign, but the sovereign's minis- ter ; nor can there be a perfect form of government where the present ruler has not power to dispose of the succession. His power, therefore, is wholly without bounds, and correlative must be the peo- ple's obligation to obey. Unquestionably there are risks of mischiefs and inconve- niences attending a monarchy ; but these are less than in the other forms ; and the worst of them is not comparable to those of civil war, or the anarchy of a state of nature, to which the dissolution of the commonwealth would reduce us. 69. In the exercise of government, the sovereign is to be guided by one maxim, which contains all his duty : Salus populi suprema lex. And in this is to be reck- oned not only the conservation of life, but all that renders it happy. For this is the end for which men entered into civil soci- ety, that they might enjoy as much hap- piness as human nature can attain. It would be, therefore, a violation of the law of nature, and of the trust reposed in them, if sovereigns did not study, as far as by their power it may be, that their subjects should be furnished with every- thing necessary, not for life alone, but for the delights of life. And even those who have acquired empire by conquest must desire to have men fit to serve them, and should, in consistency with their own aims, endeavour to provide what will in- crease their strength and courage. Tax- es, in the opinion of Hobbes, should be laid equally, and rather on expenditure than on revenue ; the prince should pro- mote agriculture, fisheries, and commerce, and, in general, whatever makes men hap- py and prosperous. Many just reflections on the art of government are uttered by Hobbes, especially as to the inexpediency of interfering too much with personal lib- erty. No man, he observes in another place, is so far free as to be exempted from the sovereign power ; but if liberty consists in the paucity of restraining laws, he sees not why this may riot be had in monarchy as well as in a popular govern- ment. The dream of so many political writers, a wise and just despotism, is pic- tured by Hobbes as the perfection of po- litical society. 70. But, most of all, is the sovereign to be without limit by the power of the priest- hood. This is chiefly to be dreaded, that he should command anything under the penalty of death, and the clergy forbid it under the penalty of damnation. The pretensions of the See of Rome, of some bishops at home, and those of even the lowest citizens, to judge for themselves and determine upon public religion, are dangerous to the state, and the frequent cause of wars. The sovereign, therefore, is alone to judge whether religions are safely to be admitted or not. And it may be urged, that princes are bound to cause such doctrine as they think conducive to their subjects' salvation to be taught, for- bidding every other, and that they cannot do otherwise in conscience. This, how- ever, he does not absolutely determine. But he is clearly of opinion that, though it is not the case where the prince is infidel,* the head of the state, in a Christian com- monwealth, is head also of the Church ; that he, rather than any ecclesiastics, is the judge of doctrines ; that a church is the same as a commonwealth under the same sovereign, the component members of each being precisely the same. This is not very far removed from the doctrine of Hooker, and still less from the practice of Henry VIII. 71. The second class of commonwealths, those by forcible acquisition, differ more in origin than in their subsequent character from such as he has been discussing. The rights of sovereignty are the same in both. Dominion is acquired by generation or by conquest : the one parental, the other des- potical. Parental power, however, he de- rives not so much from having given birth * Imperantibus autem non Christianis in tempo- ralibus quidem omnibus eandem d^beri obedienti- am etiarn a cive Christiano extra controversial!! est : in spiritualibus vero, hoc est, in iis quas perti- nent ad modum colendi Dei sequenda est ecclesia aliqua Christianorum. De Cive, c. 18, 3. FROM 1600 TO 1C50. 139 to, as from having preserved ttie child, and, with originality and acuteness, thinks it belongs by nature to the mother rather than to the father, except where there is some contract between the parties to the contrary. The act of maintenance and nourishment conveys, as he supposes, an unlimited power over the child, extending to life and death, and there can be no state of nature between parent and child. In his notion of patriarchal authority he seems to go as far as Filmer ; but, more acute than Filmer, perceives that it affords no firm basis for political society. By conquest and sparing the lives of the van- quished they become slaves; and, so long as they are held in bodily confinement, there is no covenant between them and their master; but, in claiming corporeal liberty, they expressly or tacitly covenant to obey him as their lord and sovereign. 72. The political philosophy of Hobbes had much to fix the attention of the world and to create a sect of admiring partisans. The circumstances of the time, and the character of the passing generation, no doubt powerfully conspired with its intrin- sic qualities ; but a system so original, so intrepid, so disdainful of any appeal but to the common reason and common interests of mankind, so unaffectedly and perspicu- ously proposed, could at no time have failed of success. From the two rival theories, on the one hand that of original compact between the prince and people, derived from antiquity, and sanctioned by the authority of fathers and schoolmen ; on the other, that of an absolute patri- archal transmuted into an absolute regal power, which had become prevalent among part of the English clergy, Hobbes took as much as might conciliate a hearing from both, an original covenant of the multi- tude, and an unlimited authority of the sovereign. But he had a substantial ad- vantage over both these parties, and es- pecially the latter, in establishing the hap- piness of the community as the sole final cause of government, both in its institu- tion and its continuance ; the great funda- mental theorem upon which all political science depends, but sometimes obscured or lost in the pedantry of theoretical wri- ters. 73. In the positive system of Hobbes we find less cause for praise. We fall in at the very outset with a strange and in- defensible paradox ; the natural equality of human capacities, which he seems to have adopted rather in opposition to Aris- totle's notion of a natural right in some men to govern, founded on their superior qualities, than because it was at all requi- site for his own theory. By extending this alleged equality, or slightness of dif- ference, among men to physical strength, he has more evidently shown its incom- patibility with experience. If superiority in mere strength has not often been the source of political power, it is for two rea- sons : first, because, though there is a vast interval between the strongest man and the weakest, there is generally not much between the former and him who comes next in vigour ; and, secondly, because physical strength is multiplied by the ag- gregation of individuals, so that the strong- er few may be overpowered by the weak- er many ; while in mental capacity, com- prehending acquired skill and habit as well as natural genius and disposition, both the degrees of excellence are remo- ved by a wider distance, and, what is still more important, the aggregation of indi- vidual powers does not regularly and cer- tainly augment the value of the whole. That the real or acknowledged superiority of one man to his fellows has been the or- dinary source of power, is sufficiently evi- dent from what we daily see among chil- dren, and must, it should seem, be admit- ted by all who derive civil authority from choice, or even from conquest ; and, there- fore, is to be inferred from the very sys- tem of Hobbes. 74. That a state of nature is a state of war ; that men, or, at least, a very large proportion of men, employ force of every kind in seizing to themselves what is in the possession of others, is a proposition for which Hobbes incurred as much oblo- quy as for any one in his writings ; yet it is one not easy to controvert. But, soon after the publication of the Leviathan, a dislike of the Calvinistic scheme of uni- versal depravity, as well as of his own, led many considerable men into the opposite extreme of elevating too much the dignity of human nature, if by that term they meant, and in no other sense could it be applicable to this question, the real prac- tical character of the majority of the spe- cies. Certainly the sociableness of man is as much a part of his nature as his self- ishness ; but whether this propensity to society would necessarily or naturally have led to the institution of political communities, may not be very clear; while we have proof enough in historical traditions, and in what we observe of sav- age nations, that mutual defence by mutu- al concession, the common agreement not to attack the possessions of each other, or to permit strangers to do so, has been the true basis, the final aim of those insti- tutions, be they more or less complex, t<* 140 LITERATURE OF EUROPE which we give the appellation of common- wealths. 75. In developing, therefore, the origin of civil society, Hobbes, though not essen- tially differing from his predecessors, has placed the truth in a fuller light. It does not seem equally clear that his own the- ory of a mutual covenant between the members of a unanimous multitude to be- come one people, and to be represented, in all lime to come, by such a sovereign gov- ernment as the majority should determine, affords a satisfactory groundwork for the rights of political society. It is, in the first place, too hypothetical as a fact. That such an agreement may have been sometimes made by independent families, in the first coming together of communi- ties, it would be presumptuous to deny ; it carries upon the face of it no improbabili- ty except as to the design of binding pos- terity, which seems too refined for such a state of mankind as we must suppose ; but it is surely possible to account for the general fact of civil government in a sim- pler way ; and what is most simple, though not always true, is, on the first appear- ance, most probable. If we merely sup- pose an agreement, unanimous, of course, in those who concur in it, to be governed by one man or by one council, promising that they shall wield the force of the whole against any one who shall contra- vene their commands issued for the pub- lic good, the foundation is as well laid, and the commonwealth as firmly estab- lished, as by the double process of a mu- tual covenant to constitute a people, and a popular determination to constitute a gov- ernment. It is true that Hobbes distin- guishes a commonwealth by institution, which he supposes to be founded on this unanimous consent, from one by acquisi- tion, for which force alone is required. But as the force of one man gpes but a little way towards compelling the obe- dience of others, so as to gain the name of sovereign power, unless it is aided by the force of many who voluntarily con- spire to its ends, this sort of common- wealth by conquest will be found to in- volve the previous institution of the more peaceable kind. 76. This theory of a mutual covenant is defective also in a most essential point. It furnishes no adequate basis for any commonwealth beyond the lives of those who established it. The right, indeed, of men to bind their children, and, through them, a late posterity, is sometimes as- serted by Hobbes, but in a very transient manner, and as if he was aware of the weakness of his ground. It might be in- quired Whether the force on which alone he rests the obligation of children to obey can give any right beyond its own contin- uance ; whether the absurdity he imputes to those who do not stand by their en- gagements is imputable to such as disre- gard the covenants of their forefathers ; whether, in short, any law of nature re- quires our obedience to a government we deem hurtful, because, in a distant age, a multitude whom we cannot trace bestow- ed unlimited power on some unknown persons from whom that government pre- tends to derive its succession. 77. A better ground for the subsisting rights of his Leviathan is sometimes sug gested, though faintly, by Hobbes himself. " If one refuse to stand to what the major part shall ordain, or make protestation against any of their decrees, he does con- trary to his covenant, and therefore un- justly ; and whether he be of the congre- gation or not, whether his consent be asked or not, he must either submit to their decrees, or be left in the condition of war he was in before, wherein he might, without injustice, be destroyed by any man whatsoever."* This renewal of the state of war, which is the state of nature ; this denial of the possibility of doing an injury to any one who does not obey the laws of the commonwealth, is enough to silence the question why we are obliged still to obey. The established government and those who maintain it being strong enough to wage war against gainsayers, give them the option of incur- ring the consequences of such warfare or of complying with the laws. But it seems a corollary from this, that the stronger part of a commonwealth, which may not always be the majority, have not only a right to despise the wishes, but the inter- ests of dissentients. Thus the more we scrutinize the theories of Hobbes, the more there appears a deficiency of that which only a higher tone of moral senti- ment can give, a security against the ap- petites of others, and for them against our own. But it may be remarked, that his supposition of a state of war, not. as a permanent state of nature, but as just self- defence, is perhaps the best footing on which we can place the right to inflict se- vere, and especially capital, punishment upon offenders against the law. 78. The positions so dogmatically laid down as to the impossibility of mixing different sorts of government were, even in the days of Hobbes, contradicted by experience. Several republics had lasted * Lev., c. 18. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 141 for ages under a mixed aristocracy and democracy ; and there had surely been sufficient evidence that a limited mon- archy might exist, though, in the revolu- tion of ages, it might, one way or other, pass into some new type of polity. And these prejudices in favour of absolute power are rendered more dangerous by paradoxes unusual from an Englishman, even in those days of high prerogative when Hobbes began to write, that the subject has no property relatively to the sovereign, and, what is the fundamental error of his whole system, that nothing done by the prince can be injurious to any one else. This is accompanied by the other portents of Hobbism, scattered through these treatises, especially the Leviathan, that the distinctions of right and wrong, moral good and evil, are made by the laws ; that no man can do amiss who obeys the sovereign authority ; that, though private belief is, of necessity, be- yond the prince's control, it is according to his will, and in no other way, that we must worship God. 79. The political system of Hobbes, like his moral system, of which, in fact, it is only a portion, sears up the heart. It takes away the sense of wrong, that has Consoled the wise and good in their dan- gers ; the proud appeal of innocence under oppression, like that of Prometheus to the elements, uttered to the witnessing world, to coming ages, to the just ear of Heaven. It confounds the principles of moral ap- probation, the notions of good and ill de- sert, in a servile idolatry of the monstrous Leviathan it creates ; and, after sacrificing all right at the altar of power, denies to the Omnipotent the prerogative of dicta- ting the laws of his own worship. SECTION III. Roman Jurisprudence. Grotius on the Laws of War and Peace. Analysis of this Work. De- fence of it against some Strictures. 80. IN the Roman jurisprudence we do civil jurists not find such a cluster of emi- of this period nen t men during this period as in the sixteenth century ; and it would, of course, be out of our province to search for names little how remembered, perhaps, even in forensic practice. Many of the writings of Fabre of Savoy, who has been mentioned in the former volume, belong to the first years of this century. Farinacci or Farinaceus, a lawyer of Rome, obtain- ed a celebrity which, after a long dura- tion, has given way in the progress of le- gal studies, less directed than formerly towards a superfluous erudition.* But the work of Menochius de praesumptioni- bus, or, as we should say, on the rules of evidence, is said to have lost none of its usefulness, even since the decline of the civil law in France. f No book, perhaps, belonging to this period is so generally known as the commentaries of Vinnius on the Institutes, which, as far as I know, has not been superseded by any of later date. Conringius of Helmstadt may be reckoned, in some measure, among the writers on jurisprudence, though chiefly in the line of historical illustration. The Elementa Juris Civilis, by Zouch, is a mere epitome, but neatly executed, of the principal heads of the Roman law, and nearly in its own words. Arthur Duck, another Englishman, has been praised, even by foreigners, for a succinct and learned, though elementary and popular, treatise on the use and authority of the civil law in different countries of Europe. This little book is not disagreeably writ- ten ; but it is not, of course, from England that much could be contributed towards Roman jurisprudence. 81. The larger principles of jurispru- dence, which link that science with s-mezon general morals, and especially such i aws - as relate to the intercourse of nations, were not left untouched in the great work of Suarez on laws. I have not, however, made myself particularly acquainted with this portion of his large volume. Spain appears to have been the country in which, these questions were originally discussed upon principles broader than precedent, as well as upon precedents themselves ; and Suarez, from the general comprehen- siveness of his views in legislation and ethics, is likely to have said well whatev- er he may have said on the subject of in- ternational law. It does not appear, how- ever, that he is much quoted by later wri- ters. 82. The name of Suarez is obscure in comparison of one who soon orotiux, Pe came forward in the great field JureBeiiiet of natural jurisprudence. This Pacis> was Hugo Grotius, whose famous work, De Jure Belli et Pacis, was published at Paris in 1625. It may be reckoned a proof of the extraordinary diligence, as well as quickness of parts which distinguishes this writer, that it had occupied a very short part of his life. He first mentions, in a letter to the younger Thuanus in August, 1623, that he was employed in examining the principal questions which belong to * Biogr. Univ. 142 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the law of nations.* In the same year he recommends the study of that law to an- other of his correspondents in such terms as bespeak his own attention to it.f Ac- cording to one of his letters to Gassendi, quoted by Stewart, the scheme was sug- gested to him by Peiresc. 83. It is acknowledged by every one Successor that the publication of this trea- this work, tise made an epoch in the philo- sophical, and almost, we might say, in the political history of Europe. Those who sought a guide to their own conscience or that of others ; those who dispensed jus- tice ; those who appealed to the public sense of right in the intercourse of na- tions, had recourse to its copious pages for what might direct or justify their ac- tions. Within thirty or forty years from its publication, we find the work of Gro- tius generally received as authority by professors of the Continental universities, and deemed necessary for the student of civil law, at least in the Protestant coun- tries of Europe. In England, from the difference of laws, and from some other causes which might be assigned, the in- fluence of Grotius was far slower, and even, ultimately, mucft less general. He was, however, treated with great respect as the founder of the modern law of na- tions, which is distinguished from what formerly bore that name by its more con- tinual reference to that of nature. But when a book is little read it is easily mis- represented ; and, as a new school of phi- losophers rose up, averse to much of the principles of their predecessors, but, above * Versor in examinandis controversiis prascipuis quse ad jus gentium pertinent. Epist. 75. This is" not from the folio collection of his epistles, so often quoted in the second chapter of this volume, hut from one antecedently published in 1648, and enti- tled Grotii Epistolse ad Gallos. t Hoc spatio exacto, nihil restat quod tibi seque commendem atque studium juris, non illius privati, ex quo leguleii et rabulae victitant, sed gentium ac publici ; quam prsestabilem scientiam Cicero vocans consistere ait in fcoderibus, pactionibus, conditioni- bus populorum, regum, nationum, in omni deniqne jure belli et pads. Hujus juris principia quomodo ex morali philosophia petenda sunt, monstrare po- terunt Platonis ac Ciceronis de legibus liber. Sed Platpnis summas aliquas legisse suffecerit. Neque posniteat ex scholasticis Thomam Aquinatem, si non perlegere, saltern inspicere secunda parte se- cundaj partis libri, quern Summam Theologian in- scripsit ; praesertim ubi de justitia agit ac de legi- bus. ITsum propius monstrabunt Pandectse, libro prime atque ultimo ; et codex Justinianeus, libro primo et tnbus postremis. Nostri temporis juris consult! pauci juris gentium ac publici controversias attigere, eoque magis eminent, qui id fecere, Vas- quius, Hpttomannus, Gentilis. Epist. xvi. This passage is useful in showing the views Grotius himself entertained as to the subject and trround- work of his treatise. 1 all things, to their tediousness, it became the fashion, not so much to dispute, the tenets of Grotius, as to set aside his whole work among the barbarous and obsolete schemes of ignorant ages. For this pur- pose various charges have been alleged against it by men of deserved eminence, not, in my opinion, very candidly, or with much real knowledge of its contents. They have had, however, the natural ef- fect of creating a prejudice, which, from the sort of oblivion fallen upon the book, is not likely to die away. I shall, there- fore, not think myself performing a useless task in giving an analysis of the treatise De Jure Belli et Pacis ; so that the reader, having seen for himself what it is, may not stand in need of any arguments or tes- timony to refute those who have repre- sented it as it is not. 84. The book may be considered as nearly original, in its general plat- nsorigi- form, as any work of man in an naiity. advanced stage of civilization and learning can be. It is more so, perhaps, than those of Montesquieu and Smith. No one had before gone to the foundations of inter- national law so as to raise a complete and consistent superstructure; few had han- dled even separate parts, or laid down any satisfactory rules concerning it. Grotius enumerates a few preceding writers, es- pecially Ayala and Albericus Gentilis, but does not mention Soto in this place. Gen- tilis, he says, is wont, in determining con- troverted questions, to follow either a few precedents not always of the best descrip- tion, or even the authority of modern law- yers in their answers to cases, many of which are written with more regard to what the consulting parties desire, than to what real justice and equity demand. 85. The motive assigned for this under- taking is the noblest. " I saw," i ts motive he says, " in the whole Christian and object. world a license of fighting, at which even barbarians might blush; wars begun on trifling pretexts, or none at all, and carried on without reverence for any divine or human law, as if that one declaration of war let loose every crime." The sight of such a monstrous state of things had induced some, like Erasmus, to deny the lawfulness of any war to a Christian. But this extreme, as he justly observes, is rather pernicious than otherwise ; for when a tenet so paradoxical and impracti- cable is maintained, it begets a prejudice against the more temperate course which he prepares to indicate. " Let, therefore," he says afterward, " the laws be silent in the midst of arms ; but those laws only which belong to peace ; the laws of civil FROM 1600 TO 1G50. 143 life and public tribunals; not such as are eternal, and fitted for all seasons, unwrit- ten laws of nature, which subsist in what the ancient form of the Romans denomi- nated ' a pure and holy war.' "* 86. "I have employed, in confirmation I'is au- of this natural and national law, thoritics. the testimonies of philosophers, of historians, of poets, lastly, even of ora- tors ; not that we should indiscriminately rely upon them, for they are apt to say what may serve their party, their subject, or their cause ; but because, when many at different times and places affirm the same thing for certain, we may refer this unanimity to some general cause, which, in such questions as these, can be no other than either a right deduction from some natural principle or some common agree- ment. The former of these denotes the law of nature, the latter that of nations ; the difference whereof must be understood, not by the language of these testimonies, for writers are very prone to confound the two words, but from the nature of the subject. For, whatever cannot be clearly deduced from true premises, and yet ap- pears to have been generally, admitted, must have had its origin in free consent. .... The sentences of poets and orators have less weight than those of history; and we often make use of them, not so much to corroborate what we say, as to throw a kind of ornament over it." "1 have abstained," he adds afterward, " from all that belongs to a different subject, as what is expedient to be done ; since this has its own science, that of politics, which Aristotle has rightly treated by not inter- mingling anything extraneous to it, while Bodin has confounded that science with this which we are about to treat. If we sometimes allude to utility, it is but in passing, and distinguishing it from the question of justice. v f 87. Grotius derives the origin of natural Foundation ^ avv ^ rom t ^ ie sociable character of of natural mankind. " Among things corn- law. mon to mankind is the desire of society ; that is, not of every kind of so- ciety, but of one that is peaceable and or- dered according to the capacities of his nature with others of his species. Even in children, before all instruction, a propen- sity to do good to others displays itself, just as pity in that age is a spontaneous affection." We perceive by this -remark that Grotius looked beyond the merely rational basis of natural law to the moral * Eas res puro pioque duello repetundas censeo. It was a case prodigiously frequent in the opinion of the Romans. t Prolegomena in librum de Jure Belli. constitution of human nature. The con- servation of such a sociable life is the source of that law which is strictly called natural ; which comprehends, in the first place, the abstaining from all that belongs to others, and the restitution of it if by any means in our possession, the fulfil- ment of promises, the reparation of injury, and the right of human punishment. In a secondary sense, natural law extends to prudence, temperance, and fortitude, as being suitable to man's nature. ' And in a similar lax sense we have that kind of jus- tice itself called distributive (dto^ayr of nations, or of revelation. The proof is, as usual with Grotius, very dif- fuse ; his work being, in fact, a magazine of arguments and examples with rather a supererogatory profusion. J But the Ana- baptist and Quaker superstition has pre- vailed enough to render some of his ref- utation not unnecessary. After dividing war into public and private, and showing that the establishment of civil justice does not universally put an end to the right of private war, since cases may arise when the magistrate cannot be waited for, and others where his interference cannot be obtained, he shows that public war may be either solemn and regular according to the law of nations, or less regular on a sudden emergency of self-defence ; class- ing also under the latter any war which magistrates not sovereign* may in peculiar circumstances levy. And this leads him to inquire what constitutes sovereignty ; defining, after setting aside other descrip- tions, that power to be sovereign whose acts cannot be invalidated at the pleasure of any other human authority, except one, which, as in the case of a successor, has exactly the same sovereignty as itself. || 91. Grotius rejects the opinion of those * Lib. i., c. 1. + Id. ibid. J C. 2. $ C. 3. II Summa potestas ilia dicitur, cujus actus alte- rius juri non suhjacet, ita ut alterius voluntatis hu- manae arbitrio irriti possint reddi, $ 7. who hold the people to be every- Resistanca where sovereign, so that they i>y subject* may restrain and punish kings U1|law( ' u| - for misgovernment ; quoting many author- ities for the irresponsibility of kings. Here he lays down the principles of non-resist- ance, which he more fully inculcates in the next chapter. But this is done with many distinctions as to the nature of the principality, which may be held by very different conditions. He speaks of patri- monial kingdoms, which, as he supposes, may be alienated like an inheritance. But where the government can be traced to popular consent, he owns that this power of alienation should not be presumed to be comprised in the grant. Those, he says, are much deceived who think that in kingdoms where the consent of a senate or other body is required for new laws, the sovereignty itself is divided ; for these restrictions must be understood to have been imposed by the prince on his own will, lest he should be entrapped into something contrary to his deliberate in- tention.* Among other things in this chapter, he determines that neither an unequal alliance, that is, where one party retains great advantages, nor a feudal homage, takes away the character of sov- ereignty, so far, at least, as authority over subjects is concerned. 93. In the next chapter Grotius dwells more at length on the alleged right of subjects to resist their governors, and al- together repels it, with the exception of strict self-defence, or the improbable case of a hostile spirit, on the prince's part, ex- tending to the destruction of his people. Barclay, the opponent of Buchanan and the Jesuits, had admitted the right of re- sistance against enormous cruelty. If the king has abdicated the government, or manifestly relinquished it, he may, after a time, be considered merely a private per- son. But mere negligence in government is by no means to be reckoned a relin- quishment.f And he also observes, that if the sovereignty be divided between a king and part of his subjects or the whole, he may be resisted by force in usurping their share, because he is no longer sover- eign as to that ; which he holds to be the case even if the right of war be in him, since that must be understood of a foreign war, and it could not be maintained that those who partake the sovereignty have not the t Si rex aut alius quis imperium abdicavit, aut manifeste habet pro derelicto, in eum post id tern- pus omnia licent, quae in privatum. Sed minirnd pro derelicto habere rem censendus est, qui earn tractat negligentius. C. 4, 9. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 145 right to defend it ; in which predicament a king may lose even his own share by the right of war. He proceeds to the case of usurpation ; not such as is warranted by long prescription, but while the circum- stances that led to the unjust possession subsist. Against such a usurper he thinks it lawful to rebel, so long as there is no treaty or voluntary act of allegiance ; at least, if the government de jure sanctions the insurrection. But where there may be a doubt whether the lawful ruler has not acquiesced in the usurpation, a private person ought rather to stand by possession than to take the decision upon himself.* 93. The right of war, which we must Aitmennat- nere understand in"the largest uraiiy have sense, the employment of force right of war. to res i s t force, though by private men, resides in all mankind. Solon, he says, taught us that those commonwealths would be happy wherein each man thought the injuries of others were like his own.f The mere sociability of human nature ought to suggest this to us. And, though Grotius does not proceed with this sub- ject, he would not have doubted that we are even bound by the law of nature, not merely that we have a right, to protect the lives and goods of others against law- less violence, without the least reference to positive law or the command of a ma- gistrate. If this has been preposterously doubted, or affected to be doubted, in Eng- land of late years, it has been less owing to the pedantry which demands an ex- press written law upon the most pressing emergency, than to lukewarmncss, at the best, in the public cause of order and jus- tice. The expediency of vindicating these by the slaughter of the aggressors must depend on the peculiar circumstances ; but the right is paramount to any positive law, even if, which with us is not the case, it were difficult to be proved from them. 94. We now arrive at the first and fun- night or damental inquiry, what is the seifdefence. r jg] u O f self-defence, including the defence of what is our own. There can, says Grotius, be no just cause of war (that is, of using force, for he is now on the most general ground) but injury. For this reason he will not admit of wars to preserve the balance of power. An im- minent injury to ourselves or our proper- ty renders repulsion of the aggressor by force legitimate. But here he argues rather weakly and inconsistently through excess of charity, and, acknowledging the strict right of killing one who would oth- erwise kill us, thinks it more praiseworthy to accept the alternative.* The right of killing one who inflicts a smaller personal injury he wholly denies; and with re- spect to a robber, while he admits he may be slain by natural law, is of opinion that the Gospel has greatly limited the privi- lege of defending our property by such means. Almost all jurists and theolo- gians of his day, he says, carry it farther than he does.f To public warfare he gives a greater latitude than to private self-de- fence, but without assigning any satisfac- tory reason ; the true reason being that so rigid a school of ethics would have ren- dered his book a Utopian theory instead of a practicable code of law. 95. Injury to our rights, therefore, is a just cause of war. But what are our rights 1 What is property ? whence does it come 1 what may be its subjects ? in whom does it reside ? Till these ques- tions are determined, we can have but crude and indefinite notions of injury, and, consequently, of the rights we have to re- dress it. The disquisition is necessary, but it must be long; unless, indeed, we acquiesce in what we find already written, and seek for no stable principles upon which this grand and primary question in civil f society, the rights of property and dominion, may rest. Here then begins what has seemed to many the abandon- ment by Grotius of his general subject, and what certainly suspends for a consid- erable time the inquiry into international law, but still not, as it seems to me, an episodical digression, at least for the great- er part, but a natural and legitimate in- vestigation, springing immediately from the principal theme of the work, connected with it more closely at several intervals, and ultimately reverting into it. But of this the reader will judge as we proceed with the analysis. 96. Grotius begins with rather too ro- mantic a picture of the early its origin and state of the world, when men '""'""'ons- lived on the spontaneous fruits of the earth, with no property except in what each had taken from the common mother's lap. But this happy condition did not, of course, last very long, and mankind came to separate and exclusive possession, each man for himself and against the world. Original occupancy by persons, and di- Lib. ii., c. 1, $ 8. Gronovius observes pithily and truly on this: rnelius occidi quam occidere in- uria : n<>n melius occidi injuna quam occidere jure. t Hodie omnes ferine tarn jurisconsult! quam the- * $20. J 1 Ev r; TU>V aSiKoufievaiv ov% I'ITTOV ol ftrj aSiKOVficvot epo6a\\ovTai nai KoA,i|on rou? a&iKovvras. Ut cautera i ologt doeeant recte homines 'a nobis interfici rerum desint vincula, sufficit humans naturae commanio. dcfendendarum causa, 6 13. VOL. II. T 146 LITERATURE OF EUROPE visions of lands by the community, he rightly holds to be the two sources of ter- ritorial propriety. Occupation is of two sorts, one by the community (per univer- sitatem), the other (per fundos) by sever- al possession. What is not thus occupied is still the domain of the state. Grotius conceives that mankind have reserved a right of taking what belongs to others in extreme necessity. It is a still more re- markable limitation of the right of proper- ty, that he carries very far his notions of that of transit, maintaining that not only rivers, but the territory itself of a state may be peaceably entered, and that per- mission cannot be refused, consistently with natural law, even in the case of ar- mies ; nor is the apprehension of incur- ring the hostility of the power who is thus attacked by the army passing through our territory a sufficient excuse.* This, of course, must now be exploded. Nor can, he thinks, the transit of merchandise be forbidden or impeded by levying any far- ther tolls than are required for the incident expenses. Strangers ought to be allowed to settle on condition of obeying the laws, and even to occupy any waste tracts in the territory ;f a position equally unten- able. It is less unreasonably that he maintains the general right of mankind to buy what they want, if the other party can spare it ; but he extends too far his principle that no nation can be excluded by another from privileges which it con- cedes to the rest of the world. In all these positions, however, we perceive the en- larged and philanthropic spirit of the sys- tem of Grotius, and his disregard of the usages of mankind when they clashed with his Christian principles of justice. But as the very contrary supposition has been established in the belief of the pres- ent generation, it may be doubtful wheth- er his own testimony will be thought suf- ficient. 97. The original acquisition of property night of was, in the infancy of human so- occupancy. c i e ti e s, by division or by occu- pancy; it is now by occupancy alone. Paullus has reckoned as a mode of origi- nal acquisition, if we have caused any- thing to exist, si quid ipsi, ut in rerum nat- ura esset. fecimus. This, though not well expressed, must mean the produce of la- bour. Grotius observes, that this resolves itself into a continuance of a prior right, or a new one by occupancy, and, therefore, no peculiar mode of acquisition. In those * Sic etiam metus ab eo in quern bellum justum movet is qui transit, ad negandum trai.sitnm non valet. Lib. ii., c. 2, $ 13. f $ 16, 17. things which naturally belong to no one, there may be two sorts of occupation, do- minion or sovereignty, and property. And in the former sense, at least, rivers and bays of the sea are capable of occupation. In what manner this may be done he ex- plains at length.* But those who occupy a portion of the sea have no right to ob- struct others in fishing. This had been the subject of a controversy with Selden ; the one in his Mare Liberum denying, the other in his Mare Clausum-sustaining, the right of England to exclude the fishermen of Holland from the seas which she as- serted to be her own. 98. The right of occupancy exists as to things derelict or abandoned Relinquish- by their owners. But it is of mem of u. more importance to consider the presump- tions of such relinquishment by sovereign states, as distinguished from mere pre- scription. The nonclaim of the owner during a long period seems the only means of giving a right where none originally existed. It must be the silent acquies- cence of one who knows his rights and has his free will. But when this abandonment has once taken place, it bars unborn claim- ants ; for he who is not born. Grotius says, has no rights ; ejus qui nondum est natus nullum est jus.f 99. A right over persons may be ac- quired in three ways by genera- Rj ht ovej . tion, by their consent, by their persons, crime. In children we are to By genera- consider three periods : that of tlon ' imperfect judgment or infancy, that of adult age in the father's family, and that of emancipation or foris-familiation, when they have ceased to form a part of it. In the first of these, a child is capable of property in possession, but not in enjoy, ment. In the second, he is subject to the parent only in actions which affect the family. In the third, he is wholly his own master. All beyond this is positive law. The paternal power was almost peculiar to the Romans, though the Persians are said to have had something of the same. Grotius, we perceive, was no ally of those who elevated the patriarchal power in or- der to found upon it a despotic polity ; nor does he raise it by any means so high as Bodin. The customs of Eastern na- tions would perhaps have warranted some- what more than he concedes.! 100. Consent is the second mode of ac- quiring dominion. The conso- By consent, ciation of male and female is in marriage the first species of it, which is principally in marriage, for which the promise of the * C.3. t C.4. . 5. FROM 1600 TO 1650. woman to be faithful is required. But he thinks that there is no mutual obligation by the law of nature ; which seems de- signed to save the polygamy of the patri- archs. He then discusses the chief ques- tions as to divorce, polygamy, clandestine marriages, and incest ; holding that no unions are forbidden by natural law ex- cept in the direct line. Concubines, in 1 the sense of the Roman jurisprudence, are true Christian wives.* 101. In all other consociations except in common- marriage, it is a rule that the wealths. majority can bind the minority. Of these the principal is a commonwealth. And here he maintains the right of every citizen to leave his country, and that the state retains no right over those it has banished. Subjection, which may arise from one kind of consent, is either pri- vate or public ; the former is of several species, among which adoption, in the Roman sense, is the noblest, and servitude the meanest. In the latter case, the mas- ter has not the right of life and death over his servants, though some laws give him impunity. He is perplexed about the right over persons born in slavery, since his theory of its origin will not support it. But in the case of public subjection, where one state becomes voluntarily sub- ject to another, he finds no difficulty in the unborn, because the people is the same, notwithstanding the succession of individ- uals ; which seems paying too much def- erence to a legal fiction. f 102. The right of alienating altogether Right of the territory he grants to patri- uiienaung monial sovereigns. But he de- Bubjects. n j es |- nat a p art can j-, e separated from the rest without its consent, either by the community or by the sovereign, however large his authority may be. This lie extends to subjection of the kingdom to vassalage. The right of alienating pri- Aiienation vate property by testament is by testament, founded, he thinks, in natural law ;| a position wherein I can by no means concur. In conformity with this, he derives the right of succession by in- testacy from the presumed intention of the deceased, and proceeds to dilate on the different rules of succession establish- ed by civil laws. Yet the rule that pater- nal and maternal heirs shall take respect- ively what descended from the ancestors on each side, he conceives to be founded in the law of nature, though subject to the right of bequest.^ * C. 5. f Id. J C. 6, 6 14. 4 C. 7. In this chapter Grotius decides mat pa- rents are not bound by strict justice to maintain their children. The case is stronger the other 147 103. In treating of the acquisition of property by the law of nations, Righlsof he means only the arbitrary con- property by stitutions of the Roman and oth- P sit i y e ia*. er codes! Some of these he deems found- ed in no solid reason, though the lawgiv- ers of every country have a right to deter- mine such matters as they think fit. Thus the Roman law recognises no property in animals fera nature, which that of modern nations gives, he says, to the owner of the soil where they are found, not unreason- ably any more than the opposite maxim is unreasonable. So of a treasure found in the earth, and many other cases, wherein it is hard to say that the law of nature and reason prescribes one rule more than an- other.* 104. The rights of sovereignty and prop- erty may terminate by extinction Extinction of the ruling or possessing family of rights, without provision of successors. Slaves then become free, and subjects their own masters. For there can be no new right by occupancy in such. Even a people or community may cease to exist, though the identity of persons or even of race is not necessary for its continuance. It may ex- pire by voluntary dispersion, or by subju- gation to another state. But mere change of place by simultaneous emigration will not destroy a political society, much less a change of internal government. Hence a republic becoming a monarchy, it stands in the same relation to other communities as before, and, in particular, is subject to all its former debts. f 105. In a chapter on the obligations which the right of property im- Some casu . poses on others than the propri- istical ques- etor, we find some of the more ttons- delicate questions in the casuistry of nat- ural law, such as relate to the bona fide way, in return for early protection. Barbeyrac thinks that aliment is due to children by strict right during infancy. * $ S. t (f 2. At the end of this chapter, Grotius un- fortunately raises a question, his solution of which laid him open to censure. He inquires to whom the countries formerly subject to the Roman empire belong? And here he comes to the inconceivable paradox, that that empire and the rights of the cit- izens of Rome still subsist. Gronovius bitterly re- marks, in a note on this passage, Mirum est hoc loco summum virum, cum in praecipua questione non male sentiret, in tot salebras se conjecisse, totque monstra et chimseras confmxisse, ut aliquid novum diceret, et Gerrnanis potius ludibrium debe- ret, quam Gallis et Papae parum placeret. This, however, is very uncandid, as Barbeyrac truly points out; since neither of these could take much interest in a theory which reserved a supremacy over the world to the Roman people. It is proba- bly the weakest passage in all the writings of Gro- tius, though there are too many which do not en- hance his fame. 148 LITERATURE OF EUROPE possessor of another's property. Gro- tius, always siding with the stricter mor- alists, asserts that he is bound not only to restore the substance, but the interme- diate profits, without any claim for the valuable consideration which he may have paid. His commentator Barbeyrac, of a later and laxer school of casuistry, denies much of this doctrine.* 106. That great branch of ethics which relates to the obligation of prom- '' ises has been so diffusely handled by the casuists, as well as philosophers, that Grotius deserves much credit for the brevity with which he has laid down the simple principles, and discussed some of the more difficult problems. That mere promises, or nuda pacta, where there is neither mutual benefit, nor what the ju- rists call synallagmatic contract, are bind- ing on the conscience, whatever they may be, or ought to be, in law, is maintained against a distinguished civilian, Francis Connan ; nor does Barbeyrac seem to dispute this general tenet of moral phi- losophers. Puffendorf, however, says that there is a tacit condition in promises of this kind, that they can be performed without great loss to the promiser; and Cicero holds them to be released, if their performance would be more detrimental to one party than serviceable to the other. This gives a good deal of latitude ; but perhaps they are, in such cases, open to compensation without actual fulfilment. A promise given without deliberation, ac- cording to Grotius himself, is not binding. Those founded on deceit or error admit of many distinctions ; but he determines, in the celebrated question of extorted promises, that they are valid by the natu- ral, though their obligation may be an- nulled by the civil law. But the promisee is bound to release a promise thus unduly obtained.* Thus also the civil law may * C. 10. Onr own jurisprudence goes upon the principles of Grotins, and even denies the possessor by a bad title, though bona fide, any indemnification for what he may have laid out to the benefit of the property, which seems hardly consonant to the strictest rules of natural law. t C. 11, 7? It is not very probable that the promisee will fulfil this obligation in such a case ; and the decision of Grotius, though conformable to that of the theological casuists in general, is justly rejected by Puffendorf and Barbeyrac, as well as by many writers of the last century. The princi- ple seems to be, that right and obligation in mat- ters of agreement are correlative, and where the first does not arise, the second cannot exist. Adam Smith and Paley incline to think the promise ought, under certain circumstances, to be kept ; but the reasons they give are not founded on the justitia expletrix, which the proper obligation of promises, as such, requires. It is also a proof how little the moral sense of mankind goes along with annul other promises, which would natu- rally be binding, as one of prospective marriage between persons already under that engagement towards another. These instances are sufficient to show the spirit in which Grotius always approaches the decision of moral questions ; serious and learned rather than profound in seeking a principle, or acute in establishing a dis- tinction. In the latter quality he falls much below his annotator Barbeyrac, who had, indeed, the advantage of coming near- ly a century nfter him. 107. In no part of his work has Grotius dwelt so much on the rules and n . ,. . . .. , Contracts. distinctions of the Roman law as in his chapter on contracts ; nor was it very easy or desirable to avoid it.* The wisdom of those great men, from the fragments of whose determinations the existing jurisprudence of Europe, in sub- jects of this kind, has been chiefly derived, could not be set aside without presump- tion, nor appropriated without ingratitude. Less fettered, at least in the best age of Roman jurisprudence, by legislative in- terference than our modern lawyers have commonly been, they resorted to no other prinoiples than those of natural justice. That the Roman law, in all its parts, coin- cides with the best possible platform of natural jurisprudence, it would be foolish to assert ; but that in this great province, or, rather, demesne land of justice, the regulation of contracts between man and man, it does not considerably deviate from the right line of reason, has never been disputed by any one in the least conver- sant with the Pandects. 108. It will be manifest, however, to the attentive reader of Grotius in this considered chapter, that he treats the subject ethically, of contract as a part of ethics rather than of jurisprudence ; and it is only by the frequent parallelism of the two sciences that the contrary could be suspected. Thus he maintains that, equality being the principle of the contract by sale, ei- ther party is forced to restore the differ- ence arising from a misapprehension of the other, even without his own fault, and this whatever may be the amount, though the civil law gives a remedy only where the difference exceeds one half of the price.f And in several other places he the rigid casuists in this respect, that no one is blamed for defending himself against a bond given through duress or illegal violence, if the plea be a true one. In a subsequent passage, 1. iii., c. 19, 4, Grotius seems to carry this theory of the duty of releasing an unjust promise so far as to deny its obligation, and thus circuitously to agree with the opposite class of casuists. * C. 12. f C. 12, $ 12. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 149 diverges equally from that law. Not tha he ever contemplated what Smith seems to have meant by " natural jurispru dence," a theory of the principles whicl ought to run through and to be the found ation of the laws of all nations. But he knew that the judge in the tribunal, am the inward judge in the breast, ever where their subjects of determination ap- pear essentially the same, must have dif- ferent boundaries to their jurisdiction and that, as the general maxims and in- flexible forms of external law, in attempt to accommodate themselves to the subtle- ties of casuistry, would become uncertain and arbitrary, so the finer emotions of the conscience would lose all their moral effi- cacy by restraining the duties of justice to that which can be enforced by the law. In the course of this twelfth chapter we come to a question much debated in the time of Grotius, the lawfulness of usury. After admitting, against the common opin- ion, that it is not repugnant to the law of nature, he yet maintains the prohibition in the Mosaic code to be binding on all man- kind.* An extraordinary position, it would seem, in one who had denied any part of that system to be truly a universal law. This was, however, the usual determina- tion of casuists ; but he follows it up, as was also usual, with so many exceptions as materially relax and invalidate the ap- plicatioifcof his rule. 109. The next chapter, on promissory Promissory oaths, is a corollary to the last oaths. two. It was the opinion of Gro- tius, as it had been of all theologians, and, in truth, of all mankind, that a promise or contract not only becomes more solemn, and entails on its breach a severer penal- ty, by means of this adjuration of the Su- preme Being, but may even acquire a sub- stantial validity by it in cases where no prior obligation would subsist.! This chapter is distinguished by a more than usually profuse erudition. But, notwith- standing the rigid observance of oaths which he deems incumbent by natural and revealed law, he admits of a considerable authority in the civil magistrate or other superior, as a husband or father, to annul the oaths of inferiors beforehand, or to dispense with them afterward ; not that they can release a moral obligation, but that the obligation itself is incurred under a tacit condition of their consent. And he seems, in rather a singular manner, to hint a kind of approval of such dispensa- tions by the Church.J * 6 20. t C. 13. t 9 20. Ex hoc fundamento defendi ppssunt abaolutiones juramentorum, quse oliin aprincipibus, 110. Whatever has been laid down by Grotius in the last three chap- Vn i , r t-ngazemenw ters as to the natural obhga- of kings to- tions of mankind, has an espe- wards 8Ub * cial reference to the main pur- Jecl port of this great work, the duties of the supreme power. But the engagements of sovereigns give rise to many questions which cannot occur in those of private men. In the chapter which ensues, on the promises, oaths, and contracts of sov- ereigns, he confines himself to those en- gagements which immediately affect their subjects. These it is of great importance, in the author's assumed province of the general confessor or casuist of kings, to place on a right footing; because they have never wanted subservient counsel- lors, who would wrest the law of con- science, as well as that of the land, to the interests of power. Grotius, in denying that the sovereign may revoke his own contracts, extends this case to those made by him during his minority, without lim- itation to such as have been authorized by his guardians.* His contracts with his subjects create a true obligation, of which they may claim, though not enforce the performance. He hesitates whether to call this obligation a civil, or only a natu- ral one ; and, in fact, it can only be deter- mined by positive law.f Whether the successors of a sovereign are bound by his engagements, must depend on the po- litical constitution, and on the nature of the engagement. Those of a usurper he determines not to be binding, which should probably be limited to domestic contracts, ihough his language seems large enough to comprise engagements towards foreign states.:}: 111. We now return from what, in strict language, may pass for a long Public digression, though not a needless treaties, one, to the main stream of international aw. The title of the fifteenth chapter is on Public Treaties. After several divis- ons, which it would at present be thought unnecessary to specify so much at length, 3rotius enters on a question not then set- led by theologians, whether alliances with infidel powers were in any circum- stances lawful. Francis I. had given 'real scandal in Europe by his league with he Turk. And, though Grotius admits the general lawfulness of such alliances, unc ipsorum principum voluntate, quo magis cau- urn sit pietati, ab ecclesiae prassidibus exercentur. * C. 14, $ 1. t$6. J Contractibus vero eorum qui sine jure imperi- um invaserunt, non tenebuntur populi aut veri eges, nam hi jus obligandi populum non habue unt, $ 14. 150 it is under limitations which would hardly have borne out the court of France in pro- moting the aggrandizement of the com- mon enemy of Christendom. Another and more extensive head in the casuistry of nations relates to treaties that have been concluded without the authority of the sovereign. That he is not bound by these engagements is evident as a leading rule ; but the course which, according to natural law, ought to be taken in such circumstances is often doubtful. The fa- mous capitulation of the Roman army at the Caudine Forks is in point. Grotius, a rigid casuist, determines that the senate were not bound to replace their army in the condition from which the treaty had delivered them. And this seems to be a rational decision, though the Romans have sometimes incurred the censure of ill faith for their conduct. But if the sovereign has not only by silence acquiesced in the en- gagement of his ambassador or general, which of itself, according to Grotius, will not amount to an implied ratification, but recognised it. by some overt act of his own, he cannot afterward plead the defect of sanction.* 112. Promises consist externally in Their inter- words, really in the intention of pretation. the parties. But as the evidence of this intention must usually depend on words, we should adapt our general rules to their natural meaning. Common usage is to determine the interpretation of agree- ments, except where terms of a technical sense have been employed. But if the ex- pressions will bear different senses, or if there is some apparent inconsistency in different clauses, it becomes necessary to collect the meaning conjecturally, from the nature of the subject, from the conse- quences of the proposed interpretation, and from its bearing on other parts of the agreement. This serves to exclude un- reasonable and unfair constructions from the equivocal language of treaties, such as was usual in former times to a degree which the greater prudence of contracting parties, if not their better faith, has rendered impossible in modern Europe. Among other rules of interpretation, whether in private or public engagements, he lays down one, familiar to the jurists, but concerning the validity of which some have doubted, that things favourable, as they style them, or conferring a benefit, are to be construed largely ; things odious, or erroneous to one party, are not to be stretched beyond the letter. Our own law, as is well known, adopts this distinction * C. 15. between remedial and penal statutes ; and it seems (wherever that which is favour- able in one sense is not odious in another; the most equitable principle in public con- ventions. The celebrated question, the cause, or, as Polybius more truly calls it, the pretext of the second Punic war, whether the terms of a treaty binding each party not to attack the allies of the other will" comprehend those who had entered subsequently into alliance, seems, but rather on doubtful grounds, to be decided in the negative. Several other cases from history are agreeably introduced in this chapter.* 113. It is often, he observes, important to ascertain whether a treaty be personal or real, that is, whether it affect only the contracting sovereign or the state. The treaties of republics are always real or permanent, even if the form of govern- ment should become monarchical ; but the converse is not true as to those of kings, which are to be interpreted according to the probable meaning where there are no words of restraint or extension. A treaty subsists with a king, though he may be expelled by his subjects ; nor is it any breach of faith to take up arms against a usurper with the lawful sovereign's con- sent. This is not a doctrine which would now be endured. f 114. Besides those rules of interpreta- tion which depend on explaining the words of an engagement, there are otlArs which must sometimes be employed to extend or limit the meaning beyond any natural construction. Thus, in the old law-case, a bequest, in the event of the testator's posthumous son dying, was held valid where none was born, and instances of this kind are continual in the books of jurisprudence. It is equally reasonable sometimes to restrain the terms of a prom- ise, where they clearly appear to go be- yond the design of the promiser, or where supervenient circumstances indicate an exception which he would infallibly have made. A few sections in this place seem, perhaps, more fit to be inserted in the eleventh chapter. 115. There is a natural obligation to make amends for injury to the Obligation to natural rights of another, which re i> air in J ur y- is extended by means of the establishment of property and of civil society to all which the laws have accorded him.J Hence a correlative right arises, but a right which is to be distinguished from fitness or mer- it. The jurists were accustomed to treat expletive justice, which consists in giving * C. 16. t C. 16, $ 17. t C. 17 FROM 1600 TO 1650. 151 to every one what is strictly his own, sep- arately from attributive justice, the equi- table and right dispensation of all things according to desert. With the latter Gro- tius has nothing to do ; nor is he to be charged with introducing the distinction of perfect and imperfect rights, if, indeed, those phrases are as objectionable as some have accounted them. In the far greater part of this chapter he considers the prin- ciples of this important province of natu- ral law, the obligation to compensate dam- age, rather as it affects private persons than sovereign states. As, in most in- stances, this falls within the jurisdiction of civil tribunals, the rules laid down by Grotius may, to a hasty reader, seem rath- er intended as directory to the judge than to the conscience of the offending party. This, however, is not by any means the .case; he is here, as almost everywhere else, a master in morality and not in law. That he is not obsequiously following the Roman law will appear by his determining against the natural responsibility of the owner for injuries committed, without his fault, by a slave or a beast.* But sover- eigns, he holds, are answerable for the pi- racies and robberies of their subjects when they are able to prevent them. This is the only case of national law which he discusses. But it is one of high impor- tance, being, in fact, one of the ordinary causes of public hostility. This liability, however, does not exist where subjects, having obtained a lawful commission by letters of marque, become common pi- rates, and do not return home. 116. Thus far, the author begins in the nights by eighteenth chapter, we have treat- law of na- ed of rights founded on natural turns. i aWj w j t h some little mixture of the arbitrary law of nations. We come now to those which depend wholly on the latter. Such are the rights of ambassadors. Those of am- We have now, therefore, to have bassadors. recourse more to the usage of civilized people than to theoretical prin- ciples. The practice of mankind has, in fact, been so much more uniform as to the privileges of ambassadors than other matters of national intercourse, that they early acquired the authority and denomi- nation of public law. The obligation to receive ambassadors from other sovereign states, the respect due to them, their im- punity in offences committed by their principals or by themselves, are not, in- deed, wholly founded on custom, to the exclusion of the reason of the case, nor * This is in the 8th title of the 4th hook of the Institutes: Si quadrupes pauperiem fecerit. Pau- peries means damnum sine injuria. have the customs of mankind, even here, been so unlike themselves as to furnish no contradictory precedents ; but they af- ford, perhaps, the best instance of a tacit agreement, distinguishable both from moral right and from positive convention, which is specifically denominated the lAw of na- tions. It may be mentioned that Grotius determines in favour of the absolute im- puE'ty of ambassadors; that is, their irre- sponsibility to the tribunals of the country where they reside, in the case of personal crimes, and even of conspiracy against the government. This, however, he founds altogether upon what he conceives to have been the prevailing usage of civilized states.* 117. The next chapter, on the right of sepulture, appears more excursive Right of than any other in the whole trea- sepulture, tise. The right of sepulture can hardly become a public question except in time of war, and, as such, it might have been short- ly noticed in the third book. It supplies Grotius, however, with a brilliant prodigal- ity of classical learning, f But the next is far more important. It is entitled On Pun- ishments. The injuries done to _ us by others give rise to our Pumshment3 - right of compensation and to our right of punishment. We have to examine the latter with the more care, that many have fallen into mistakes from not duly appre- hending the foundation and nature of pun- ishment. Punishment is, as Grotius rather quaintly defines it, Malum passionis, quod infligitur ob malum actionis, evil inflicted on another for the evil which he has com- mitted. It is not a part of attributive and hardly of expletive justice, nor is it, in its primary design, proportioned to the guilt of the criminal, but to the magnitude of the crime. All men have naturally a right to punish crimes, except those who are themselves equally guilty ; but though the criminal would have no ground to com- plain, the mere pleasure of revenge is not a sufficient motive to warrant us ; there must be a useful end to render punish- ment legitimate. This end may be the ad- vantage of the criminal himself, or of the injured party, or of mankind in general. The interest of the injured party here considered is not of reparation, which, though it may be provided for in punish- ment, is no proper part of it, but security against similar offences of the guilty party or of others. AH men may naturally seek this security by punishing the offender; and though it is expedient in civil society that this right should be transferred to the * C. 18. f C. 19. 152 LITERATURE OF EUROPE judge, it is not taken away where recourse cannot be had to the law. Every man may even, by the law of nature, punish crimes by which he has sustained no in- jury ; the public good of society requiring security against offenders, and rendering them common enemies.* 118. Grotius next proceeds to consider whether these rights of punishment are restrained by revelation, and concludes that a private Christian is not at liberty to punish any criminal, especially with death, for his own security or that of the public, but that the magistrate is expressly empowered by Scripture to employ the sword against malefactors. It is rather an excess of scrupulousness that he holds it unbecoming to seek offices which give a jurisdiction in capital cases. f 119. Many things essentially evil are not properly punishable by human laws. Such are thoughts and intentions, errors of frailty, or actions from which, though morally wrong, human society suffers no mischief; or the absence of such voluntary virtues as compassion and gratitude. Nor is it always necessary to inflict lawful punishment, many circumstances war- ranting its remission. The ground of pun- ishment is the guilt of the offender, its motive is the advantage expected from it. No punishment should exceed what is de- served, but it may be diminished accord- ing to the prospect of utility, or according to palliating circumstances. But, though punishments should bear proportion to of- fences, it does not follow that the criminal should suffer no more evil than he has occasioned, which would give him too easy a measure of retribution. The gen- eral tendency of all that Grotius has said in this chapter is remarkably indulgent and humane, beyond the practice or even the philosophy of his age.J 120. War is commonly grounded upon the right of punishing injuries, so that the general principles upon which this right depends upon mankind ought well to be understood before we can judge of so great a matter of national law. States, Grotius thinks, have a right, analogous to that of individuals out of society, to punish heinous offences against the law of nature or of nations, though not affecting them- selves, or even any other independent community. But this is to be done very cautiously, and does not extend to viola- tions of the positive divine law, or to any merely barbarous and irrational customs. Wars undertaken only on this score are commonly suspicious. But he goes on to C. 20. t Id. J Id. determine that war may be justly waged against those who deny the being and providence of God, though not against idolaters, much less for the sake of com- pelling any nation to embrace Christianity, unless they persecute its professors, in which case they are justly liable to pun- ishment. He pronounces strongly in this place against the persecution of her- etics.* 121. This is the longest chapter in the work of Grotius. Several of his positions, as the reader may probably have observed, would not bear a close scrutiny ; the rights of individuals in a state of nature, of ma- gistrates in civil society, and of independ- ent communities, are not kept sufficiently distinct : the equivocal meaning of right, as it exists correlatively between two par- ties, and as it comprehends the general obligations of moral law, is not always guarded against. It is, notwithstanding these defects, a valuable commentary, re- gard being had to the time when it ap- peared, on the principles both of penal jurisprudence and of the rights of war. 122. It has been a great problem wheth- er the liability to punishment can Their re- be transmitted from one person sponsibiiuy. to another. This may be asked as to those who have been concerned in the crime and those who have not. In the first case they are liable as for their own offence, in having commanded, connived at, permit- ted, assisted, the actors in the crime before or after its perpetration. States are an- swerable for the delinquencies of their subjects when unpunished. They are also bound either to punish or to deliver up those who take refuge within their domin- ions from the justice of their own country. He seems, however, to admit afterward, that they need only command such per- sons to quit the country. But they have a right to inquire into and inform them- selves of the guilt alleged, the ancient privileges of suppliants being established for the sake of those who have been un- justly persecuted at home. The practice of modern Europe, he owns, has limited this right of demanding the delivery or punishment of refugees within narrow bounds. As to the punishment of those who have been wholly innocent of the of- fence, Grotius holds it universally unjust, but distinguishes it from indirect evil, which may often fall on the innocent. Thus, when the estate of a father is con- fiscated, his children suffer, but are not punished ; since their succession was only a right contingent on his possession at his * C. 20. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 153 death.* It is a consequence from this principle, that a people, so far subject to its sovereign as to have had no control upon his actions, cannot justly incur pun- ishment on account of them. 123. After distinguishing the causes of insufficient war ulto pretexts and motives, causes of and setting aside wars without war - any assignable justification as mere robberies, he mentions several pre- texts which he deems insufficient ; such as the aggrandizement of a neighbour; his construction of fortresses ; the right of discovery, where there is already a pos- sessor, however barbarous ; the necessity of occupying more land. And here he denies, both to single men and to a people, the right of taking up arms in order to recover their liberty. He laughs at the pretended right of the emperor or of the pope to govern the world ; and concludes with a singular warning against wars un- dertaken upon any pretended explanation Duty of of scriptural prophecies. f It will Bvoidingit.be anticipated from the scrupu- lousness of Grotius in all his casuistry, that he enjoins sovereigns to abstain from war in a doubtful cause, and to use all convenient methods of avoiding it by con- ference, arbitration, or even by lot. Single combat itself, as a mode of lot, he does not wholly reject. In answer to a ques- tion often put, Whether a war can be just on both sides ? he replies that, in relation to the cause or subject, it cannot be so, since there cannot be two opposite rights ; but since men may easily be deceived as to the real right, a war may be just on both sides with respect to the agents. J In another part of his work, he observes that resistance, even where the cause is not originally just, may become such by the excess of the other party. 124. The duty of avoiding war, even in And expe- a just cause, as long as possible, diency. j s mther part of moral virtue in a large sense than of mere justice. But, besides the obligations imposed on us by humanity and by Christian love, it is often * C. 21, 10. Hence it would follow, by the principle of Grotius, that our law of forfeiture in nigh treason is just, being part of the direct punish- ment of the guilty ; hut that of attainder, or corrup tion of blood, is unjust, being an infliction on the innocent alone. I incline to concur ui this distinc- tion, and think it at least plausible, though it was seldom or never taken in the discussions concern- ing those two laws. Confiscation is no more un- just towards the posterity of an offender than fine, from which, of course, it only differs in degree : and, on the other hand, the law has as much right to exclude that posterity from enjoying property at all, as from enjoying that which descends from a third party through the blood, as we call it, of a criminal ancestor. t C. 22. t C. 23. VOL. II. U expedient for our own interests to avoid war. Of this, however, he says little, it being plainly a matter of civil prudence with which he has no concern.* Dismiss- ing, therefore, the subject of this chapter, he comes to the justice of wars under- takert for the sake of others. Sovereigns, he conceives, are not bound to War for lhe take up arms in defence of any sake of other one of their subjects who may sub J ecls - be unjustly treated. Hence a state may abandon those whom it cannot protect without great loss to the rest ; but whether an innocent subject may be delivered up to an enemy is a more debated question. Soto and Vasquez, casuists of great name, had denied this ; Grotius, however, deter- mines it affirmatively. This seems a re- markable exception from the general in- flexibility of his adherence to the rule of right. For on what principle of strict justice can a people, any more than private persons, sacrifice or put in jeopardy the life of an innocent man 1 ? Grotius is in- fluenced by the supposition that the sub- ject ought voluntarily to surrender him- self into the hands of the enemy for the public good : but no man forfeits his natu- ral rights by refusing to perform an action not of strict social obligation.! 125. Next to subjects are allies, whom the state has bound itself to succour ; and friendly powers, though without Allies ' alliance, may also be protected from un- just attack. This extends even to all mankind; though war in behalf of strangers is not obligatory. It is Sl also lawful to deliver the subjects of others from extreme manifest oppression of their rulers ; and though this has often been a mere pretext, we are not, on that account, to deny the justice of an honest inter- ference. He even thinks the right of foreign powers, in such a case, more un- equivocal than that of the oppressed peo- ple themselves. At the close of this chap- ter he protests strongly against those who serve in any cause for the mere sake of pay, and holds them worse than the com- mon executioner, who puts none but crim- inals to death. | 126. In the twenty-sixth and conclu- ding chapter of this second book. None , Grotius investigates the lawful- serve in an ness of bearing arms at the com- u "J l mand of superiors, and determines that subjects are indispensably bound not to serve in a war which they conceive to be clearly unjust. He even inclines, though admitting the prevailing opinion to be otherwise, to think that, in a doubtful * C. 24. t C.25. JId. 154 LITERATURE OF EUROPE cause, they should adhere to the general moral rule in case of doubt, and refuse their personal service. This would evi- dently be impracticable, and ultimately subversive of political society. It, how- ever, denotes the extreme scrupulosity of his mind. One might smile at another proof of this, where he determines that the hangman, before the performance of his duty, should satisfy himself as to the justice of the sentence.* 127. The rights of war, that is, of com- Righis in mencing hostility, have thus far war. been investigated with a compre- hensiveness that has sometimes almost hidden the subject. We come now, in the third book, to rights in war. Whatever may be clone in war is permitted either by the law of nature or that of nations. Gro- tius begins with the first. The means morally, though not physically, necessary to attain a lawful end are themselves law- ful ; a proposition which he seems to un- derstand relatively to the rights of others, not to the absolute moral quality of ac- tions : distinctions which are apt to em- barrass him. We have, therefore, a right to employ force against an enemy, though it may be the cause of suffering to inno- cent persons. The principles of natural law authorize us to prevent neutrals from furnishing an enemy with the supplies of war, or with anything else essential for his resistance to our just demands of re- dress, such as provisions in a state of siege. And it is remarkable that he refers this latter question to natural law, because he had not found any clear decision of it by the positive law of nations. f 128. In acting against an enemy, force iT 8e of is the nature of war. But it may be deceit, inquired whether deceit is not also a lawful means of success '! The practice of nations and the authority of most wri- ters seem to warrant it. Grotius dilates on different sorts of artifice, and, after ad- mitting the lawfulness of such as deceive by indications, comes to the question of words equivocal or wholly false. This he first discusses on the general moral principle of veracity, more prolixly, and with more deference to authority, than would suit a. modern reader ; yet this basis is surely indispensable for the sup- port of any decision in public casuistry. The right, however, of employing false- hood towards an enemy, which he gen- erally admits, does not extend to promises, which are always to be kept, whether ex- press or implied, especially when con- firmed by oath. And more greatness of C.26. t L. iii., c. 1. nind, as well as more Christian simplicity, would be shown by abstaining wholly from falsehood in war. The law of nature does lot permit us to tempt any one to do that which in him would be criminal, as to as- sassinate his sovereign or to betray his rust. But we have a right to make use of his voluntary offers.* 129. Grotius now proceeds from the onsideration of natural law or Rules an( , justice to that of the general cus- customs of ,oms of mankind, in which, ac- nauons - :ording to him, the arbitrary law of na- vions consists. By this, in the first jlace, though naturally no one is l ' pri!>a * answerable for another, it has been estab- ished that the property of every citizen s, as it were, mortgaged for the liabilities of the state to which he belongs. Hence, if justice is refused us by the sovereign, we have a right to indemnification out of he property of his subjects. This is com- monly called reprisals ; and it is a right which every private person would enjoy, were it not for the civil laws of most ountries, which compel him to obtain the authorization of his own sovereign or of some tribunal. By an analogous right, the ubjects of a foreign state have sometimes aeen seized in return for one of our own subjects unjustly detained by their govern- ment.! 130. A regular war, by the law of na- tions, can only be waged between Declarations political communities. Wher-fwar. ever there is a semblance of civil justice and fixed law, such a community exists, however violent may be its actions. But a body of pirates or robbers are not one. Absolute independence, however, is not required for the right of war. A formal declaration of war, though not necessary by the law of nature, has been rendered such by the usage of civilized nations. But it is required, even by the former, that we should demand reparation for an injury before we seek redress by force. A decla- ration of war may be conditional or abso- lute ; and it has been established as a rati- fication of regular hostilities, that they may not be confounded with the unwar- ranted acts of private men. No interval of time is required for their commence- ment after declaration-! 131. All is lawful during war, in one sense of the word, which by the , ,. ' ,. j- Rights tiy law and usage of nations is dis- lawofna- punishable. And this, in formal ^ons over hostilities, is as much the right of el one side as of the other. The subjects of our enemy, whether active on his side or * L. iii., c. 1. fC.2. {C. 3. FROM 1GOO TO 1650. 155 not, become liable to these extreme rights of slaughter and pillage ; but it seems that, according to the law of nations, strangers should be exempted from them, unless, by remaining in the country, they serve his cause. Women, children, and prisoners may be put to death ; quarter or capitula- tion for life refused. On the other hand, if the law of nations is less strict in this respect than that of nature, it forbids some things which naturally might be allowable means of defence, as the poisoning an enemy, or the wells from which he is to drink. But the assassination of an enemy is not contrary to the law of nations un- less by means of traitors, and even this is held allowable against a rebel or robber, who are not protected by the rules of for- mal war. But the violation of women is contrary to the law of nations.* The rights of war with respect to enemies' property are unlimited, without exception even of churches or sepulchral monu- ments, sparing always the bodies of the dead.f 132. By the law of nature, Grotius thinks we acquire a property in as much of the spoil as is sufficient to indemnify us and to punish the aggressor. But the law of nations carries this much farther, and gives an unlimited property in all that has been acquired by conquest, which mankind are bound to respect. This right com- mences as soon as the enemy has lost all chance of recovering his losses ; which is, in moveables, as soon as they are in a place within our sole power. The trans- fer of property in territories is not so speedy. The goods of neutrals are not thus transferred when found in the cities or on board the vessels of an enemy. Whether the spoil belongs to the captors or to their sovereign, is so disputed a ques- tion, that it can hardly be reckoned a part of that law of nations, or universal usage, with which Grotius is here concerned. He thinks, however, that what is taken in public enterprises appertains to the state ; and that this has been the general practice of mankind. The civil laws of each peo- ple may modify this, and have frequently done so.J 133. Prisoners, by the law of nations, Prisoners be- become slaves of the captor, come slaves. an( j their posterity also. He may treat them as he pleases with im- punity. This has been established by the custom of mankind, in order that the con- queror might be induced to spare the lives of the vanquished. Some theologians deny the slave, even when taken in an unjust * C. 4. f C. 5. C. 6. war, the right of making his escape, from whom Grotius dissents. But he has not a right, in conscience, to resist the ex- ercise of his master's authority. This law of nations, as to the slavery of prisoners, as he admits, has not been universally received, and is now abolished in Christian countries out of respect to religion.* But, strictly, as an individual may be reduced into slavery, so may a whole conquered people. It is, of course, at the discretion of the conqueror to remit a portion of his right, and to leave as much of their liber- ties and possessions untouched as he pleases. f 134. The next chapter relates to the right of postliminium; one de- Right of post- pending so much on the pecu- limmium. liar fictions of the Roman jurists, that it seems strange to discuss it as part of a universal law of nations at all. Nor does it properly belong to the rights of war, which are between belligerant parties. It is certainly consonant to natural justice, that a citizen returning from captivity should be fully restored to every privilege and all property that he had enjoyed at home. In modern Europe there is little to which the jus postliminii can even by analogy be applied. It has been deter- mined, in courts of admiralty, that vessels recaptured after a short time do not revert to their owner. This chapter must be reckoned rather episodical.J 135. We have thus far looked only at the exterior right accorded by the Moral law of nations to all who wage jetton of" regular hostilities in a just or un- "S ht! in just quarrel. This right is one of wan impunity alone ; but before our own con- science, or the tribunal of moral approba- tion in mankind, many things hitherto spoken of as lawful must be condemned. In the first, place, an unjust war renders all acts of force committed in its prose- cution unjust, and binds the aggressor be- fore God to reparation. Every one, gen- eral or soldier, is responsible in such cases for the wrong he has commanded or per- petrated. Nor can any one knowingly retain the property of another obtained by such a war, though he should come to the possession of it with good faith. $ And as nothing can be done, consistently with moral justice, in an unjust war, so, how- ever legitimate our ground for hostilities may be, we are not at liberty to transgress the boundaries of equity and humanity. In this chapter, Grotius, after dilating with a charitable abundance of examples and authorities in favour of clemency in war, * C.7. f C. 8. C. 9. C. 10 156 LITERATURE OF EUROPE even towards those who have been most guilty in provoking it, specially indicates women, old men, and children as always to be spared, extending this also to all whose occupations are not military. Pris- oners are not to be put to death, nor are towns to be refused terms of capitulation. He denies that the law of retaliation, or the necessity of striking terror, or the ob- stinate resistance of an enemy, dispense with the obligation of saving his life. No- thing but some personal crime can warrant the refusal of quarter or the death of a prisoner. Nor is it allowable to put hos- tages to death.* 136. All unnecessary devastation ought Moderation to be avoided, SUch as the de- required as struction of trees, of houses, es- to spoil, pecially ornamental and public buildings, and of everything not service- able in war, nor tending to prolong it, as pictures and statues. Temples and sep- ulchres are to be spared for the same or even stronger reasons. Though it is not the object of Grotius to lay down any po- litical maxims, he cannot refrain in this place from pointing out several consider- ations of expediency which should induce us to restrain the license of arms within the limits of natural law.f There is no right by nature to more booty, strictly speaking, than is sufficient for our indem- nity, wherein are included the expenses of the war. And the property of innocent persons, being subjects of our enemies, is only liable in failure of those who are primarily aggressors.^ 137. The persons of prisoners are only And as to liable, in strict moral justice, so prisoners. f ar as j s required for satisfaction of our injury. The slavery into which they may be reduced ought not to extend farther than an obligation of perpetual servitude in return for maintenance. The power over slaves by the law of nature is far short of what the arbitrary law of na- tions permits, and does not give a right of exacting too severe labour, or of inflict- ing punishment beyond desert. The pe- c^ulium, or private acquisitions of a slave by economy or donation, ought to be reck- oned his property. Slaves, however, cap- tured in a just war, though one in which they have had no concern, are not war- ranted in conscience to escape and recov- er their liberty. But the children of such slaves are not in servitude by the law of nature, except so far as they have been obliged to their master for subsistence in infancy. With respect to prisoners, the better course is to let them redeem them- C. ll. t C. 12. t C. 13. selves by a ransom, which ought to be moderate.* 138. The acquisition of that sovereignty which was enjoyed by a conquer- Also in ed people or by their rulers is not con Boileau seems to acknowledge himself indebt- ed to Tassoni for the Lutrin ; and Pope may have followed both in the Rape of the Lock, though what he has added is a purely original conception. Out, in fact, the mock-heroic or burlesque style, in a general sense, is so natural, and, moreover, so common, that it is idle to talk of its inventor. What else is Rabelais, Don Quixote, or, in Italian, the romance of Bertoldo, all older than Tassoni '. What else are the popular tales of children, John the Giganticide, and many more? The poem of Tassoni had a very great reputation. Voltaire did it injustice, though it was much in his own line. t Cantos x. and xi. It was intended as a ridi- cule on Marini, but represents a rnal personage. Salfi, xiii., 147. 166 LITERATURE OF EUROPE sions are as frequent in their verse, as those to Valclusa and the Sorga in the followers of Petrarch. Chiabrera bor- rowed from Pindar that grandeur of sound, that pomp of epithets, that rich swell of imagery, that unvarying majesty of con- ception, which distinguish the odes of both poets. He is less frequently harsh or turgid, though the latter blemish has been sometimes observed in him, but wants also the masculine condensation of his prototype ; nor does he deviate so fre- quently, or with so much power of ima- gination, into such digressions as those which generally shade from our eyes, in a skilful profusion of ornament, the victors of the Grecian games whom Pindar pro- fesses to celebrate. The poet of the house of Medici and of other princes of Italy, great at least in their own time, was not so much compelled to desert his imme- diate subject as he who was paid for an ode by some wrestler or boxer, who could only become worthy of heroic song by attaching his name to the ancient glories of his native city. The profuse employ- ment of mythological allusions, frigid as it appears at present, was so customary that we can hardly impute to it much blame ; and it seemed peculiarly appro- priate to a style which was studiously formed on the Pindaric model.* The odes of Chiabrera are often panegyrical, and his manner was well fitted for that style, though sometimes we have ceased to ad- mire those whom he extols. But he is not eminent for purity of taste, nor, I be- lieve, of Tuscan language : he endeavoured to force the idiom, more than it would bear, by constructions and inventions bor- rowed from the ancient tongues ; and these odes, splendid and noble as they are, bear, in the estimation of critics, some marks of the seventeenth century. f The satiri- cal epistles of Chiabrera are praised by Salfi as written in a moral Horatian tone, abounding with his own experience and allusions to his time.J But in no other kind of poetry has he been so highly suc- cessful as in the lyric; and, though the Grecian robe is never cast away, he imi- tated Anacreon with as much skill as Pindar. " His lighter odes," says Cres- cimbeni, " are most beautiful and elegant, * Salfi justifies the continual introduction of mythology by the Italian poets, on the ground that it was a part of their national inheritance, asso- ciated with the monuments and recollections of their giory. This would be more to the purpose if this mythology had not been almost exclusively Greek. But perhaps all that was of classical an- tiquity might be blended in their sentiments with the memory of Rome. t Salfi, xii., 250. $ Id., xiii., 2012. full of grace, vivacity, spirit, and delicacy and adorned with pleasing inventions, and differing in nothing but language from those of Anacreon. His dithyrambics I hold incapable of being excelled, all the qualities required in such compositions being united with a certain nobleness of expression which elevates all it touches upon."* 10. The greatest lyric poet of Greece was not more the model of Chiabrera than his Roman competitor was of Testi. " Had he been more attentive to the choice of his expression," says Crescimbeni, '* he might have earned the name of the Tuscan Horace." The faults of his age are said to be frequently discernible in Testi ; but there. is, to an ordinary reader, an Horatian elegance, a certain charm of grace and ease in his canzoni, which render them pleasing. One of these, beginning Ruscelletto orgog- lioso, is highly admired by Muratori, the best, perhaps, of the Italian critics, and one not slow to censure any defects of taste. It apparently alludes to some ene- my in the court of Modena.f The charac- ter of Testi was ambitious and restless, his life spent in seeking and partly in en- joying public offices, but terminated in prison. He had taken, says a later writer, Horace for his model ; and perhaps, like him, he wished to appear sometimes a stoic, sometimes an epicurean ; but he knew not, like him, how to profit by the lessons either of Zeno or Epicurus, so as to lead a tranquil and independent life.J 11. The imitators of Chiabrera were generally unsuccessful ; they H . sfollowere . became hyperbolical and ex- aggerated. The translation of Pindar by Alessandro Adimari, though not very much resembling the original, has been praised for its own beauty. But these poets are not to be confounded with the Marinists, to whom they are much superior. Ciam- poli, whose Rime were published in 1628, may perhaps be the best after Chiabrera. Several obscure epic poems, some of which are rather to be deemed romances, are commemorated by the last historian of Italian literature. Among these is the Conquest of Granada by Graziani, pub- lished in 1650. Salfi justly observes that the subject is truly epic ; but the poem it- self seems to be nothing but a series of episodical intrigues without unity. The * Storia della volgar Poesia, ii., 483. t This canzon is in Matthias, Componimenti Lirici, ii., 190. J Salfi, xii., 281. $ Id., p. 303. Tiraboschi, xi., 364. Baillet, on the authority of others, speaks less honourably of Ciampoli. N. 1451. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 167 style, according to the same writer, is re- dundant, the similes too frequent and mo- notonous ; yet he prefers it to all the heroic poems which had intervened since that of Tasso.* SECT. II. ON SPANISH POETRY. Romances. The Argensolas. Villegas. Gongo- ra and his School. 12. THE Spanish poetry of the sixteenth The styles century might be arranged in three orspanish classes. In the first we might PO^T- place that which was formed in the ancient school, though not always preserving its characteristics ; the short trochaic metres, employed in the song or the ballad, altogether national, or aspiring to be such, either in its subjects or in its style. In the second would stand that to which the imitation of the Italians had given rise, the school of Boscan and Garci- lasso ; and with these we might place also the epic poems, which do not seem to be essentially different from similar produc- tions of Italy. A third and not incon- siderable division, though less extensive than the others, is composed of the poetry of good sense ; the didactic, semi-satirical. Horatian style, of which Mendoza was the founder, and several specimens of which occur in the Parnaso Espanol of Sedano. 13. The romances of the Cid and many others are referred by the most The romances. , . , * it. competent judges to the reign of Philip Ill.f These are by no means among the best of Spanish romances ; and we should naturally expect that so arti- ficial a style as the imitation of ancient manners and sentiments by poets in wholly a different state of society, though some men of talent might succeed in it, would * Salfi, vol. xiii., p. 94-129. + Duran, Roman(;ero de romances doctrinales, amatorios. festivos, &c., 1829. The Moorish ro- mances, with a few exceptions, and those of the Cid, are ascribed by this author to the latter part of the sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth century. In the preface to a former publication, Romances Monscos, this writer has said, Cosi todos los romances que publicamos en este libro perten- ecen al siglo 16 mo , y algunos pocos a principio del 17 mo . Los autores son desconoscidos, pero sus obras han llegado, y merecido llegar a la posteridad. It seems manifest from internal eiwlrnco, without critical knowledge of the language, that those re- lating to the Cid are not of the middle ages, though some seem still inclined to give them a high an- tiquity. It is not sufficient to say that the language has been modernized ; the whole structure of these ballads is redolent of a low age ; and if the Spanish critics agree in this, I know not why foreigners should strive against them. soon degenerate into an affected manner- ism. The Italian style continued to be cultivated : under Philip III., the decline of Spain in poetry, as in arms and national power, was not. so striking as afterward. Several poets belong to the age of that prince, and even that of Philip IV. was not destitute of men of merited reputation.* Among the best were two brothers, Luper- cio and Bartholomew Argensola. The brothers These were chiefly distinguish- Argensola. ed in what I have called the third or Hora- tian manner of Spanish poetry, though they by no means confined themselves to any peculiar style. " Lupercio," says Bouterwek, " formed his style after Hor- ace with no less assiduity than Luis de Leon ; but he did not possess the soft en- thusiasm of that pious poet, who, in the reli- gious spirit of his poetry, is so totally unlike Horace. An understanding at once solid and ingenious, subject to no extravagant illusion, yet full of true poetic feeling, and an imagination more plastic than creative, impart a more perfect Horatian colouring to the odes, as well as to the canciones and sonnets of Lupercio. He closely imitated Horace in his didactic satires, a style of composition in which no Spanish poet had preceded him. But he never succeeded in attaining the bold combination of ideas which characterizes the ode style of Hor- ace ; and his conceptions have therefore seldom any thing like the Horatian energy. On the other hand, all his poems express no less precision of language than the models after which he formed his style. His odes, in particular, are characterized by a picturesque tone of expression, which he seems lo have imbibed from Virgil rather than from Horace. The extrava- gant metaphors by which some of Her- rera's odes are deformed were uniformly avoided by Lupercio. "f The genius of Bartholomew Argensola was very like that of his brother, nor are their writings easily distinguishable ; but Bouterwek as- signs, on the whole, a higher place to Bar- tholomew. Dieze inclines to the same judgment, and thinks the eulogy of Nicolas * Antonio bestows unbounded praise on a poem of the epic class, the Bernardo of Balbuena, pub- lished at Madrid in 1624, though he complains that in his own age it lay hid in the corners of book- sellers' shops. Balbuena, in his opinion, has left all Spanish poets far behind, him. The subject of his poem is the very common fable of Koncesvalles. Dieze, a more judicious and reasonable critic than Antonio, while he denies this absolute pre-eminence of Balbuena, gives him a respectable place among the many epic writers of Spain. But t do not find him mentioned in Bouterwek ; in fact, most of these poems are very scarce, and are treasures for the bibliomaniacs. t Hist, of Spanish Literature, p. 395. 168 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Antonio on these brothers, extravagant as it seems, not beyond their merits. 14. But another poet, Manuel Estevan de Villegas, whose poems, written 181 in very early youth, entitled Ama- torias or Eroticas, were published in 1620, has attained a still higher reputation, es- pecially in other parts of Europe. Dieze calls him " one of the best lyric poets of Spain, excellent in the various styles he has performed, but, above all, in his odes and songs. His original poems are full of genius ; his translations of Horace and Anacreon might often pass for original. Few surpass him in harmony of verse ;, he is the Spanish Anacreon, the poet of the Graces."* Bouterwek, a more dis- criminating judge than Dieze, who is, per- haps, rather valuable for research than for taste, has observed that " the graceful luxuriance of the poetry of Villegas has no parallel in modern literature ; and, generally speaking, no modern writer has so well succeeded in blending the spirit of ancient poetry with the modern. But constantly to observe that correctness of ideas which distinguished the classical compositions of antiquity, was by Ville- gas, as by most Spanish poets, considered too rigid a requisition, and an unnecessa- ry restraint on genius. He accordingly sometimes degenerates into conceits and images, the monstrous absurdity of which are characteristic of the author's nation and age. For instance, in one of his odes, in which he entreats Lyda to suffer her tresses to flow, he says that, ' agitated by Zephyr, her locks would occasion a thou- sand deaths, and subdue a thousand lives ;' and then he adds, in a strain of extrava- gance surpassing that of the Marinists, ' that the sun himself would cease to give light if he did not snatch beams from her radiant countenance to illumine the east.' But faults of this glaring kind are by no means frequent in the poetry of Villegas ; and the fascinating grace with which he emulates his models operates with so powerful a charm, that the occasional oc- currence of some little affectations, from which he could scarcely be expected en- tirely to abstain, is easily overlooked by the reader."! 15. Quevedo, who, having borne the Quevedo surname of Villegas, has some- times been confounded with the poet we have just named, is better known in Europe for his prose than his verse ; but he is the author of numerous poems, both serious and comic or satirical. The * Geschichte der Spanischen Dichtkunst, p. 210. * Bouterwek, i., 479. latter are by much the more esteemed of the two. He wrote burlesque poetry with success, but it is frequently unintelligible except to natives. In satire he adopted the Juvenalian style.* A few more might be added, perhaps, especially Espinel, a poet of the classic school, Borja of Es- quillace, once viceroy of Peru, who is called by Bouterwek the last representa- tive of that style in Spain, but more wor- thy of praise for withstanding the bad taste of his contemporaries than for any vigour of genius, and Christopher de la Mena.f No Portuguese poetry about this time seems to be worthy of notice in Eu- ropean literature, though Manuel Faria y Sousa and a few more might attain a lo- cal reputation by sonnets and other ama- tory verse. 16. The original blemish of Spanish writing, both in prose and verse, Defects of had been an excess of effort to fas'e in span- say everything in an unusual lsh verse ' manner; a deviation from the beaten paths of sentiment and language in a wider curve than good taste permits. Taste is the presiding faculty which regulates, in all works within her jurisdiction, the struggling powers of imagination, emo- tion, and reason. Each has its claim to mingle in the composition ; each may sometimes be allowed, in a great meas- ure, to predominate ; and a phlegmatic ap- plication of what men call common sense in aesthetic criticism is almost as repug- nant to its principles as a dereliction of all reason for the sake of fantastic absurd- ity. Taste also must determine, by an intuitive sense of right somewhat analo- gous to that which regulates the manners of life, to what extent the most simple, the most obvious, the most natural, and, therefore, in a popular meaning, the most true, is to be modified by a studious intro- duction of the new, the striking, and the beautiful, so that neither what is insipid and trivial, nor yet what is forced and af- fected, may' displease us. In Spain, as we have observed, the latter was always the prevailing fault. The public taste had been formed on bad models on the Ori- ental poetry, metaphorical beyond all per- ceptible analogy, and on that of the Pro- vencjals, false in sentiment, false in con- ception, false in image and figure. The national chapacter, proud, swelling, and ceremonious, conspired to give an inflated tone ; it was also grave and sententious rather than lively or delicate, and there- fore fond of a strained and ambitious style. These vices of writing are car- Bouterwek, p. 468. t Id., p. 488 FROM 1600 TO 1050. 169 tied to excess in romances of chivalry, which became ridiculous in the eyes of sensible men, but were certainly very popular ; they affect also, though in a dil- ferent manner, much of the Spanish prose of the sixteenth century, and they belong to a great deal of the poetry of that, age, though it must be owned that much ap- pears wholly exempt from them, and written in a very pure and classical spirit. Cervantes strove by example and by pre- cept to maintain good taste ; and some of his contemporaries took the same line.* But they had to fight against the predom- inant turn of their nation, which soon gave the victory to one of the worst man- ners of writing that ever disgraced public favour. 17. Nothing can be more opposite to Pedantry and what is strictly called a classi- far-fetched cal style, or one formed upon allusions. the best models of Greece and Rome, than pedantry. This was, never- theless, the weed that overspread the face of literature in those ages when Greece and Rome were the chief objects of ven- eration. Without an intimate discern- ment of their beauty, it was easy to copy allusions that were no longer intelligible, to counterfeit trains of thought that be- longed to past times, to force reluctant idioms into modern forms, as some are said to dress after a lady for whom nature has done more than for themselves. From the revival of letters downward this had been more or less observable in the learn- ed men of Europe, and, after that class grew more extensive, in the current lit- erature of modern languages. Pedantry, which consisted in unnecessary, and per- haps unintelligible, references to ancient learning, was afterward combined with other artifices to obtain the same end, far- fetched metaphors and extravagant con- ceits. The French versifiers of the latter end of the sixteenth century were emi- nent in both, as the works of Ronsard and Du Bartas attest. We might, indeed, take the Creation of Du Bartas more properly than the Euphues of our English Lilly, which, though very affected and unpleas- ing, does hardly such violence to common speech and common sense, for the proto- type of the style which, in the early part of the seventeenth century, became popu- lar in several countries, but Specially in Spain, through the misplaced labours of Gongora. 18. Luis de Gongora, a man of very * Cervantes, in his Viage del Parnaso, praises Gongora, and even imitates his style ; but this, Dieze says, is all ironic*!. Gesch. der Dichtkunst, p. 250. VOL II. Y considerable talents, and capable Go of writing well, as he has shown, in different styles of poetry, was unfortu- nately led, by an ambitious desire of pop- ularity, to introduce one which should ren- der his name immortal, as it has done in a mode which he did not design. This was his estilo culto, as it was usually call- ed, or highly-polished phraseology, where- in every word seems to have been out of its natural place. " In fulfilment of this object," says Bouterwek, " he formed for himself, with the most laborious assiduity, a style as uncommon as affected, and op- posed to all the ordinary rules of the Span- ish language, either in prose or verse. He particularly endeavoured to introduce into his native tongue the intricate construc- tions of the Greek and Latin, though such an arrangement of words had never been attempted in Spanish composition. He consequently found it necessary to invent a particular system of punctuation, in or- der to render the sense of his verses in- telligible. Not satisfied with this patch- work kind of phraseology, he affected to attach an extraordinary depth of meaning to each word, and to diffuse an air of su- perior dignity over his whole style. In Gongora's poetiy the most common words received a totally new signification ; and, in order to impart perfection to his estilo culto, he summoned all his mythological learning to his aid."* " Gongora," says an English writer, " was the founder of a sect in literature. The style called in Castilian cultismo owes its origin to him. This affectation consists in using language so pedantic, metaphors so strained, and constructions so involved, that few read- ers have the knowledge requisite to un- derstand the words, and still fewer inge- nuity to discover the allusion, or patience to unravel the sentences. These authors do not avail themselves of the invention of letters for the purpose of conveying, but of concealing their ideas. "f 19. The Gongorists formed a strong party in literature, and carried The schools with them the public voice. If formed by we were to believe some writers llltn - of the seventeenth century, he was the greatest poet of Spain.J The age of Cer- * Bouterwek, p. 434. t Lord Holland's Lope de Vega, p. 64. j Dieze, p. 250. Nicolas Antonio, to the disgrace of his judgment, maintains this with the most ex- travagant eulogy on Gongora ; and Baillet copies him ; but the next age unhesitatingly reversed the sentence. The Portuguese have laid claim to the estilo culto as their property ; and one of their wri- ters who practises it, Manuel de Faria y Sousa, gives Don Sebastian the credit of having been the first who wrote it in prose. 170 LITERATURE OF EUROPE vantes was over, nor was there vitality enough in the criticism of the reign of Philip IV. to resist the contagion. Two sects soon appeared among these cultoris- tos ; one who retained that name, and, like their master, affected a certain precision of style ; another, called conceptistos, which went still greater lengths in extravagance, desirous only of expressing absurd ideas in unnatural language.* The prevalence of such a disease, for no other analogy can so fitly be used, would seem to have been a bad presage for Spain ; but, in fact, like other diseases, it did but make the tour of Europe, and rage worse in some countries than in others. It had spent itself in France, when it was at its height in Italy and England. I do not perceive the close connexion of the estilo culto of Gongora with that of Marini. whom both Bouter- wek and Lord Holland suppose to have formed his own taste on the Spanish school. It seems rather too severe an imputation on that most ingenious and fertile poet, who, as has already been ob- served, has no fitter parallel than Ovid. The strained metaphors of the Adone are easily collected by critics, and seem ex- travagant in juxtaposition, but they recur only at intervals , while those of Gongora are studiously forced into every line, and are, besides, incomparably more refined and obscure. His style, indeed, seems to be like that of Lycophron, without the excuse of that prophetical mystery which breathes a certain awfulness over the symbolic lan- guage of the Cassandra. Nor am I con- vinced that our own metaphysical poetry in the reigns of James and Charles had much to do with either Marini or Gongo- ra, except as it bore marks of the same vice, a restless ambition to excite wonder bv overstepping the boundaries of nature. SECTION III. Malherbe. Regnier. Other French Poets. 20. MALHERBE, a very few of whose po- Waiherbe eras Belong to the last century, but the greater part to the first twenty years of the present, gave a polish and a grace to the lyric poetry of France which has rendered his name celebrated in her criticism. The public taste of that country is (or, I should rather say, used to be) more intolerant of defects in poetry than rigorous in its demands of excellence. Malherbe, therefore, who substituted a reg- ular and accurate versification, a style pure * Bouterwek, p. 438. and generally free from pedantic or collo- quial phrases, and a sustained tone of what were reckoned elevated thoughts, for the more unequal strains of the sixteenth cen- tury, acquired a reputation which may lead some of his readers to disappointment. And this is likely to be increased by a very few lines of great beauty which are known by heart. These stand too much alone in his poems. In general, we find in them neither imagery nor sentiment that yield us delight. He is less mytho- logical, less affected, less given to frigid hyperboles than his predecessors, but far too much so for any one accustomed to real poetry. In the panegyrical odes Mal- herbe displays some felicity and skill -, the poet of kings and courtiers, he wisely, perhaps, wrote, even when he could have written better, what kings and courtiers would understand and reward. Polished and elegant, his lines seldom pass the conventional tone of poetry ; and, while he is never original, he is rarely impress- ive. Malherbe may stand in relation to Horace as Chiabrera does to Pindar : the analogy'is not very close ; but he is far from deficient in that calm philosophy which forms the charm of the Roman poet; and we are willing to believe thai he sacrificed his time reluctantly to the praises of the great. It may be suspected that he wrote verses for others ; a prac- tice not unusual, I believe, among these courtly rhymers ; at least his Alcandre seems to be Henry IV., Chrysanthe or Oranthe the Princess of Conde. He seems himself, in some passages, to have affected gallantry towards Mary of Medi- cis, which at that time was not reckoned an impertinence. It is hardly, perhaps, worth mentioning, that Malherbe uses lines of an uneven number of syllables ; an in- novation, as I believe it was, that has had no success. 21. Bouterwek has criticised Malherbe with some justice, but with great- criticisms er severity.* He deems him no upon liis poet, which, in a certain sense, is P 0611 ^- surely true. But we narrow our defini- tion of poetry too much when we exclude from it the versification of good sense and select diction. This may probably be ascribed to Malherbe ; though Bouhours, an acute and somewhat rigid critic, has pointed out some passages which he deems nonsensical. Another writer of the same age, Rapin, whose own taste was not very glowing, observes that there is much prose in Malherbe ; and that, well as he merits to be called correct, he is a * Vol. v., p. 238. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 171 little too desirous of appearing so, and of ten becomes frigid.* Boileau has extollec him, perhaps, somewhat too highly, anc La Harpe is inclined to the same side but in the modern state of French criti- cism, the danger is that the Malherbe will be too much depreciated. 22. The satires of Regnier have been Satires of highly praised by Boileau, a com- Rognier. petent judge, no doubt, in such matters. Some have preferred Regnier even to himself, and found in this old Ju- venal of France a certain stamp of satiri- cal genius which the more polished critic wanted. f These satires are unlike al other French poetry of the age of Henry IV. ; the tone is vehement, somewhat rug- ged and coarse, and reminds us a little of his contemporaries Hall and Donne, whom, however, he will generally and justly be thought much to excel. Some of his sa- tires are borrowed from Ovid or from the Italians. J They have been called gross and licentious ; but this only applies to one ; the rest are unexceptionable. Reg- nier, who had probably some quarrel with Malherbe, speaks with contempt of his elaborate polish. But the taste of France, and especially of that highly cultivated nobility who formed the court of Louis XIII. and his son, no longer endured the rude, though sometimes animated, versifi- cation of the older poets. Next to Mal- Racan. herbe in reputation stood Racan Mi.vnard. and Maynard, both more or less of his school. Of these it was said by their master that Racan wanted the dili- gence of Maynard, as Maynard did the spirit of Racan, and that a good poet might be made out of the two.fy A for- eigner will, in general, prefer the former, who seems to have possessed more ima- gination and sensibility, and a keener rel- ish for rural beauty. Maynard's verses, according to Pelisson, have an ease and elegance that few can imitate, which pro- ceeds from his natural and simple con- struction.! He had more success in epi- gram than in his sonnets, which Boileau has treated with little respect. Nor does * Reflexions sur la Poetique, p. 147. Malherbe a este le premier qui nous a remis dans le bon che- inin, joignant la purite au grand style ; maiscomme il commenca cetie maniere, il ne put la porter jus- ques dans sa perfection ; il y a bien de la prose dans ses vers. In another place he says, Malherbe est exact et correct ; mais il ne hazarde rien, et par I'envie qu'il a d'etre trop sage, il est souvent froid, p. 209. t Bouterwek, p. 216. La Harpe. Biogr. Univ. j Niceron, xi., 397. () Pelisson, Hist, de 1'Academie, i., 260. Baillet, Jugemens des Savans (Poetes), n. 1510. La Harpe, Cours de Litterature. Bouterwek, v., 260. II Idem. he speak better of MalleviJe, who chose no other species of verse, but seldom pro- duced a finished piece, though not deficient in spirit and delicacy. Viaud, more fre- quently known by the name of Theophile, a writer of no great elevation of style, is not destitute of imagination. Such, at least, is the opinion of Rapin and Bouter- wek.* 23. The poems of Gombauld were, in general, published before the middle of the century ; his epigrams, which are most es- teemed, in 1657. These are often lively and neat. But a style of playfulness and gayety had been introduced by Voi- Voiture> ture. French poetry under Ron- sard and his school, and even that of Mal- herbe, had lost the lively tone of Marot, and became serious almost to severity. Voiture, with an apparent ease and grace, though without the natural air of the old writers, made it once more amusing. In reality, the style of Voiture is artificial and elaborate, but, like his imitator Prior among us, he has the skill to disguise thia from the reader. He must be admitted to have had, in verse as well as prose, a con- siderable influence over the taste of France. He wrote to please women, and women are grateful when they are pleas- ed. Sarrazin, says his biographer, though less celebrated than Voi- ture, deserves, perhaps, to be rated above him ; with equal ingenuity, he is far more natural.f The German historian of French literature has spoken less respectfully of Sarrazin, whose verses are the most in- ipid rhymed prose, such as he not unhap- pily calls toilet-poetry. J This is a style which finds little meFcy on the right bank of the Rhine ; but the French are better udges of the merit of Sarrazin. SECTION IV. Rise of Poetry in Germany. Opitz and his follow- ers. Dutch Poets. 24. THE German language had never )een more despised by the learn- r, ow state of 3d and the noble than at the be- German iit- jinning of the seventeenth cen- er ,ury, which seems to be the lowest point n its native literature. The capacity was * Bouterwek, 252. Rapin says, Theophile a 'imagination grande et le sens petit. II a des har diesses heureuses a force de se permettre tout. inflexions sur la Poetique, p. 209. t Biogr. Univ. Baillet, n. 1532. t Bouterwek, v., 256. Specimens of all these ioets will be found in the collection of Auguis, voL r i. : and I must own, that, with the exoaptiuOf av i es > whose poem on the Immortality of the Soul, published in 1600, has had its due honour in our former volume. Davies is eminent for perspicuity ; but this cannot be said for another philosophical poet, Sir Fulk Greville, afterward Lord Brooke, the bosom friend of Sir Philip Sidney, and once the patron of Jordano Bruno. The titles of Lord Brooke's poems, A Treatise of Human Learning, A Treatise of Mon- archy, A Treatise of Religion, An Inquisi- tion upon Fame and Honour, lead us to anticipate more of sense than fancy. In this we are not deceived ; his mind was pregnant with deep reflection upon multi- farious learning, but he struggles to give utterance to thoughts which he had not fully endowed with words, and amid the shackles of rhyme and metre which he had not learned to manage. Hence, of all our poets, he may be reckoned the most obscure; in aiming at condensation, he becomes elliptical beyond the bounds of the language, and his rhymes, being forced for the sake of sound, leave all meaning behind. Lord Brooke's poetry is chiefly worth notice as an indication of that think- ing spirit upon political science which was to produce the riper speculations of Hobbes, and Harrington, and Locke. 36. This argumentative school of verse was so much in unison with the character of that generation, that Daniel, a poet of a very different temper, adopted it in his panegyric addressed to James soon after his accession, and in some other poems. It had an influence upon others, who trod generally in a different track, as is espe- cially perceived in Giles Fletcher. The Cooper's Hill of Sir John Den- Dcnham's ham, published in 1643, belongs, cooper's in a considerable degree, to this H ' 1L reasoning class of poems. It is also de- scriptive, but the description is made to slide into philosophy. The plan is origi- nal as far as our poetry is concerned, and I do not recollect any exception in other languages. Placing himself upon an emi- nence not distant from Windsor, he takes a survey of the scene : he finds the tower of St. Paul's on his farthest horizon, the Castle much nearer, and the Thames at his feet. These, with the ruins of an ab- bey, supply, in turn, materials for a re- flecting rather than imaginative mind, and, with a stag-hunt which he has very well described, fill up the canvass of a poem of no great length, but once of no trifling reputation. 37. The epithet majestic Denham, con- ferred by Pope, conveys rather too much ; jut Cooper's Hill is no ordinary poem. It is nearly the first instance of vigorous and rhythmical couplets ; for Denham is ncomparably less feeble than Browne, and less prosaic than Beaumont. Close n thought, and nervous in language like Davies, he is less hard and less monoto- lous ; his cadences are animated and va- rious, perhaps a little beyond the regulari- y that metre demands ; they have been ;he guide to the finer ear of Dryden. Those who cannot endure the philosophic )oetry must ever be dissatisfied with ooper's Hill ; no personification, no ar- dent words, few metaphors beyond the ommon use of speech, nothing that warms, or melts, or fascinates the heart, i is rare to find lines of eminent beauty n Denham, and equally so to be struck )y any one as feeble or low. His lan- guage is always well chosen and perspic- uous, free from those strange turns of xpression, frequent in our older poets, 176 LITERATURE OF EUROPE where, the reader is apt to suspect some error of the press, so irreconcilable do they seem with grammar or meaning. The expletive do, which the best of his predecessors use freely, seldom occurs in Denham ; and he has, in other respects, brushed away the rust of languid and in- effective redundancies which have ob- structed the popularity of men with more native genius than himself.* 38. Another class of poets in the reigns Poets called f James and his son were those metaphysi- whom Johnson has called the cal - metaphysical ; a name rather more applicable, in the ordinary use of the word, to Davies and Brooke. These were such as laboured after conceits, or novel turns of thought, usually false, and resting upon some equivocation of lan- guage or exceedingly remote analogy. This style Johnson supposes to have been derived from Marini. But Donne, its founder, as Johnson imagines, in Eng- land, wrote before Marini. It is, in fact, as we have lately observed, the style which, though Marini has earned the dis- creditable reputation of perverting the taste of his country by it, had been gain- ing ground through the latter half of the sixteenth century. It was, in a more comprehensive view, one modification of that vitiated taste which sacrificed all ease and naturalness of writing and speak- ing for the sake of display. The mytho- logical erudition and Grecisms of Ron- sard's school, the Euphuism of that of Lilly, the "estilo culto" of Gongora, even the pedantic quotations of Burton and many similar writers, both in Eng- land and on the Continent, sprang, like the concetti of the Italians and of their English imitators, from the same source, a dread of being overlooked if they paced on like their neighbours. And when a * The comparison by Denham between the Thames and his own poetry was once celebrated : Oh, could I flow like thee, awd make thy stream My bright example, as it is my theme, Though deep, yet clear ; though gentle, yet not dull ; Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. Johnson, while he highly extols these lines, truly observes, that " most of the words thus artfully opposed are to be understood simply on one side of the comparison, and metaphorically on the oth- er ; and if there be any language which does not express intellectual operations by material images, into that language they cannot be translated." Perhaps these metaphors are so naturally applied to style, that no language of a cultivated people is without them. But the ground of objection is, in fact, that the lines contain nothing but wit, and that wit which turns on a play of words. They are rather ingenious in this respect, and remarka- bly harmonious, which is probably the secret of their popularity ; but, as poetry, they deserve no great praise. few writers had set the example of suc- cessful faults, a bad style, where no sound principles of criticism had been estab- lished, readily gaining ground, it became necessary that those who had not vigour enough to rise above the fashion should seek to fall in with it. Nothing is more injurious to the cultivation of verse than the trick of desiring, for praise or profit, to attract those by poetry whom nature has left destitute of every quality which genuine poetry can attract. The best, and perhaps the only secure basis for pullic taste, for an aesthetic appreciation of beauty, in a court, a college, a city, is so general a diffusion of classical knowl- edge, as, by rendering the finest models familiar, and by giving them a sort of au- thority, will discountenance and check at the outset the vicious novelties which al- ways exert some influence over uneduca- ted minds. But this was not yet the case in England. Milton was perhaps the first writer who eminently possessed a genu- ine discernment and feeling of antiquity; though it may be perceived in Spenser, and also in a very few who wrote in prose. 39. Donne is generally esteemed the earliest, as Cowley was afterward the most conspicuous model of this manner. Many instances of it, however, occur in the lighter poetry of the queen's reign. Donne is the most inharmonious of our versifiers, if he can be said to have deserved such a name by lines too rugged to seem metre. Of his earlier poems many are very licentious ; the later are chiefly devout. Few are good for much ; the conceits have not even the merit of being intelligible ; it would perhaps be difficult to select three passages that we should care to read again. 40. The second of these poets was Crashaw, a man of some imagi- nation and great piety, but whose softness of heart, united with feeble judg- ment, led him to admire and imitate whatever was most extravagant in the mystic writings of Saint Teresa. He was, more than Donne, a follower of Ma- rini, one of whose poems, The Massacre of the Innocents, he translated with suc- cess. It is difficult, in general, to find anything in Crashaw that bad taste has not deformed. His poems were first pub- lished in 1646. 41. In the next year, 1647, Cowley's Mistress appeared; the most cele- brated performance of the mis- called metaphysical poets. It is a series of short amatory poems, in the Italian style of the age, full of analogies that FROM 1600 TO 1C50. 177 have no semblance of truth except from the double sense of words, and thought that unite the coldness of subtlety with the hyperbolical extravagance of counter- feited passion. The Anacreontic lines, and some other light pieces of Cowley, have a spirit and raciness very unlike these frigid conceits ; and in the ode on the death of his friend Mr. Harvey, he gave some proofs of real sensibility and poetic grace. The Pindaric odes of Cow- ley were not published within this period. But it is not worth while to defer mention of them. They contain, like all his po- etry, from time to time, very beautiful lines, but the faults are still of the same kind ; his sensibility and good sense nor has any poet more are choked by false taste ; and it would be difficult to fix on any one poem in which the beauties are more frequent than the blemishes. John- son has selected the elegy on Crashaw as the finest of Cowley's works. It begins with a very beautiful couplet, but I con- fess that very little else seems, to my taste, of much value. The Complaint, probably better known than any other po- em, appears to me the best in itself. His disappointed hopes give a not unpleasing melancholy to several passages. But his Latin ode in a similar strain is much more perfect. Cowley, perhaps, upon the whole, has had a reputation more .above his de- serts than any English poet ; yet it is very easy to perceive that some who wrote better than he did not possess so fine a genius. Johnson has written the life of Cowley with peculiar care ; and as his summary of the poet's character is more favourable than my own, it may be candid to insert it in this place, as at least very discriminating, elaborate, and well expressed. 42. "It may be affirmed, without any en- Johnson's comiastic fervour, that he brought character to his poetic labours a mind re- ar him. piete with learning, and that his pages are embellished with all the orna- ments which books could supply ; that he was the first who imparted to English numbers the enthusiasm of the greater ode, and the gayety of the less ;* that he was equally qualified for sprightly sallies and for lofty flights ; that he was among those who freed translation from servility, and, instead of following his author at a distance, walked by his side ; and that, if he left versification yet improvable, he left likewise, from time to time, such spe- * Was not M ikon's Ode on the Nativity written as early as any of Cowley's ? And would Johnson have thought Cowley superior in gayety to Sir John Suckling '! VOL. II. Z cimens of excellence as enabled succeed- ing poets to improve it." 43. The poets of historical or fabulous narrative belong to another class. N ,, rrative Of these the earliest is Daniel, poets . whose minor poems fall partly Danie '- within the sixteenth century. His Histo- ry of the Civil Wars between York and Lancaster, a poem in eight books, was published in 1604. Faithfully adhering to truth, which he does not suffer so much as an ornamental episode to interrupt, and equally studious to avoid the bolder fig- ures of poetry, it is not surprising that Daniel should be little read. It is, indeed, certain that much Italian and Spanish po- etry, even by those whose name has once stood rather high, depends chiefly upon merits which he abundantly possesses, a smoothness of rhythm, and a lucid narra- tion in simple language. But that which, from the natural delight in sweet sound, is enough to content the ear in the southern tongues, will always seem bald and tame in our less harmonious verse. It is the chief praise of Daniel, and must have con- tributed to what popularity he enjoyed in his own age, that his English is eminently pure, free from affectation of archaism and from pedantic innovation, with very little that is now obsolete. Both in prose and in poetry, he is, as to language, among the best writers of his time, and wanted but a greater confidence in his own power, or, to speak less indulgently, a greater share of it, to sustain his correct taste, calm sense, and moral feeling. 44. Next to Daniel in time, and much above him in reach of mind, we niton's place Michael Drayton, whose Poiyoibion. Barons' Wars have been mentioned under the preceding period, but whose more fa- mous work was published partly in 1613, and partly in 1622. Drayton's Poiyoibion is a poem of about 30,000 lines in length, written in Alexandrine couplets, a meas- ure, from its monotony, and perhaps from its frequency in doggerel ballads, not at all pleasing to the ear. It contains a to- pographical description of England, illus- trated with a prodigality of historical and legendary erudition. Such a poem is es- sentially designed to instruct, and speaks to the understanding more than to the fancy. The powers displayed in it are, however, of a high cast. It has generally seen a difficulty with poets to deal with a necessary enumeration of proper names. The catalogue of ships if not the most de- iightful part of the Iliad, and Ariosto never encounters such a roll of persons or pla- ces without sinking into the tamest insi- pidity. Virgil is splendidly beautiful upon 178 LITERATURE OF EUROPE similar occasions ; but his decorative ele- gance could not be preserved, nor would continue to please in a poem that kept up, through a great length, the effort to fur- nish instruction. The style of Drayton is sustained, with extraordinary ability, on an equable line, from which he seldom much deviates, neither brilliant nor pro- saic; few or no passages could be mark- ed as impressive, but few are languid or mean. The language is clear, strong, va- rious, and sufficiently figurative ; the sto- ries and fictions interspersed, as well as the general spirit and liveliness, relieve the heaviness incident to topographical description. There is probably no poem of this kind in any other language com- parable together in extent and excellence to the Polyolbion ; nor can any one read a portion of it without admiration for its learned and highly-gifted author. Yet perhaps no English poem, known as well by name, is so little known beyond its name ; for, while its immense length de- ters the common reader, it affords, as has just been hinted, no great harvest for se- lection, and would be judged very unfairly by partial extracts. It must be owned, also, that geography and antiquities may, in modern times, be taught better in prose than in verse ; yet whoever consults the Polyolbion for such objects will probably be repaid by petty knowledge which he may not have found anywhere else. 45. Among these historical poets I Browne's should incline to class William Britannia's Browne, author of a poem with Pastorals. the quaint title of Britannia's Pastorals, though his story, one of little interest, seems to have been invented by himself. Browne, indeed, is of no distinct school among the writers of that age ; he seems to recognise Spenser as his master, but his own manner is more to be traced among later than earlier poets. He was a native of Devonshire ; and his principal poem, above mentioned, relating partly to the local scenery of that county, was printed in 1613. Browne is truly a poet, full of imagination, grace, and sweetness, though not very nervous or rapid. I know not why Headley, favourable enough, for the most part, to this generation of the sons of song, has spoken of Browne with unfair contempt. Justice, however, has been done to him by later critics.* But I * " Browne," Mr. SoiUhey says, " is a poet who produced no slight effect upon his contemporaries. George Wither, in his happiest pieces, has learned the manner of his friend, and Milton may be traced to him. And in our days his peculiarities have been caught, and his beauties imitated, by men who will themselves find admirers and imitators hereafter." 'His poetry," Mr. Campbell, a far less indulgent have not observed that they take notice of what is remarkable in the history of our poetical literature, that Browne is an ear- ly model of ease and variety in the regu- lar couplet. Many passages in his un- equal poem are hardly excelled by the fables of Dryden. It is manifest that Mil- ton was well acquainted with the writings of Browne. 46. The commendation of improving the rhythm of the couplet is due sir John also to Sir John Beaumont, au- Beaumont thor of a short poem on the battle of Bos- worth Field. It was not written, how- ever, so early as the Britannia's Pastorals of Browne. In other respects it has no pretensions to a high rank. But it may be added that a poem of Drummond, on the visit of James I. to Scotland in 1617, is perfectly harmonious ; and, what is very remarkable in that age, he concludes the verse at every couplet with the regularity of Pope. 47. Far unlike the poem of Browne was Gondibert, published by Sir Wil- Davenam's liam Davenant in 1650. It may Gondibert. probably have been reckoned by himself an epic ; but in that age the practice of Spain and Italy had effaced the distinction between the regular epic and the heroic romance. Gondibert belongs rather to the latter class by the entire want of truth in the story, though the scene is laid at the court of the Lombard kings, by the de- ficiency of unity in the action, by the in- tricacy of the events, and by the resources of the fable, which are sometimes too much in the style of comic fiction. It is so imperfect, only two books and part of the third being completed, that we can hardly judge of the termination it was to receive. Each book, however, after the manner of Spenser j is divided into several cantos. It contains about 6000 lines. The metre is the four-lined stanza of alternate rhymes ; one capable of great vigour, but not, perhaps, well adapted to poetry of imagination or of passion. These, how- ever, Davenant exhibits but sparingly in Gondibert; they are replaced by a philo- sophical spirit, in the tone of Sir John Da- vies, who had adopted the same metre, and, as some have thought, nourished by the author's friendly intercourse with Hobbes-. Gondibert is written in a clear, nervous P^nglish style ; its condensation produces some obscurity, but pedantry, at least that of language, will rarely be found in it ; and judge of the older bards, observes, " is not without beauty ; but it is the beauty of mere landscape and allegory, without the manners and passions that constitute human interest." Specimens of English Poetry, iv., 323. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 179 Davenant is less infected by the love of conceit and of extravagance than his con- temporaries, though I would not assert that he is wholly exempt from the former blemish. But the chief praise of Gondi- bert is for masculine verse in a good met- rical cadence ; for the sake of which we may forgive the absence of interest in the story, and even of those glowing words and breathing thoughts which are the soul of genuine poetry. Gondibert is very little read ; yet it is better worth reading than the Purple Island, though it may have less of that which distinguishes a poet from another man. 48. The sonnets of Shakspeare, for we Sonnets of now come to the minor, thai is, Shakspeare. the shorter and more lyric, poe- try of the age, were published in 1609, in a manner as mysterious as their subject and contents. They are dedicated by an editor (Thomas Thorpe, a bookseller) " to Mr. W. H., the only begetter of these sonnets."* No one, as far as I remember, has ever doubted their genuineness; no one can doubt that they express not only real, but intense emotions of the heart ; but when they were written, who was the W. H. quaintly called their begetter, by which we can only understand the cause of their being written, and to what persons or circumstances they allude, has of late years been the subject of much curiosity. These sonnets were long overlooked ; Steevens spoke of them with the utmost scorn, as productions which no one could read ; but a very different suffrage is gen- erally given by the lovers of poetry, and perhaps there is now a tendency, especial- ly among young men of poetical tempers, to exaggerate the beauties of these re- markable productions. They rise, indeed, in estimation as we attentively read and reflect upon them ; for I do not think that, at first, they give us much pleasure. No one ever entered more fully than Shaks- peare into the character of this species of poetry, which admits .of no expletive imagery, no merely ornamental line. But, though each sonnet has generally its proper unity, the sense, I do not mean the * The precise words of the dedication are the following : To the only Begetter Of these ensuing sonnets Mr. W. H. All Happiness And that eternity promised By our ever living poet Wisheth the Well-wishing Adventurer In setting forth T. T. The title-page runs : Shakspeare's Sonnets, nev- ei before imprinted, 4to, 1609. G. Eld for T. T. grammatical construction, will sometimes be found to spread from one to another, independently of that repetition of the leading idea, like variations of an air, which a series of them frequently exhibits, and on account of which they have latterly been reckoned by some rather an integral poem than a collection of sonnets. But this is not uncommon among the Italians, and belongs, in fact, to those of Petrarch himself. They may easily be resolved into several series according to their sub- jects ;* but, when read attentively, we find them relate to one definite, though obscure period of the poet's life ; in which an attachment to some female, which seems to have touched neither his heart nor his fancy very sensibly, was over- powered, without entirely ceasing, by one to a friend ; and this last is of such an enthusiastic character, and so extravagant in the phrases that the author uses, as to have thrown an unaccountable mystery over the whole work. It is true that, in the poetry as well as in the fictions of arly ages, we find a more ardent tone of affection in the language of friendship than has since been usual ; and yet no instance las been adduced of such rapturous de- votedness, such an idolatry of admiring ove, as the greatest being whom nature ?ver produced in the human form pours brth to some unknown youth in the ma- jority of these sonnets. 49. The notion that a woman was their general object is totally unten- The J)ersori able, and it is strange that Cole- whom they idge should have entertained it.f address - Those that were evidently addressed to a woman, the person above hinted, are by nuch the smaller part of the whole, but twenty-eight out of one hundred and fifty- * This has been done in a late publication, Shakspeare's Autobiographical Poems, by George Armitage Brown" (1838). It might have occurred o any attentive reader, but I do not know that the analysis was ever so completely made before, ;hough almost every one has been aware that dif- erent persons are addressed in the former and lat- ter part of the sonnets. Mr. Brown's work did not all into my hands till nearly the time that these sheets passed through the press, which I mention on account of some coincidences of opinion, es- jecially as to Shakspeare's knowledge of Latin. f " It. seems to me that the sonnets could only lave come from a man deeply in love, and in love with a woman ; and there is one sonnet which, rom its incongruity, I take to be a purposed blind." Table-talk, vol. ii., p. 180. This sonnet, the ditor supposes to be the twentieth, which cer- .ainly could not have been addressed to a woman ; nit the proof is equally strong as to most of the rest. Coleridge's opinion is absolutely untenable; nor do I coruceive that any one else is likely to maintain it after reading the sonnets of Shakspeare ; but to those who have not done this the authority may justly seem imposing. 180 LITERATURE OF EUROPE four. And this mysterious Mr. W. H. must be presumed to be the idolized friend of Shakspeare. But who could he be? No one recorded in literary history or anec- dote answers the description. But if we seize a clew which innumerable passages give us, and suppose that they allude to a youth of high rank as well as personal beauty and accomplishment, in whose fa- vour and intimacy, according to the base prejudices of the world, a player and a poet, though he were the author of Mac- beth, might be thought honoured, some- thing of the strangeness, as it appears to us, of Shakspeare's humiliation in address- ing him as a being before whose feet he crouched, whose frown he feared, whose injuries, and th se of the most insulting kind the seduction of the mistress to whom we have alluded he felt and be- wailed without resenting; something. I say, of the strangeness of this humiliation, and at best it is but little, may be lightened and, in a certain sense, rendered intelli- gible. And it has been ingeniously con- jectured within a few years, by inquirers independent of each other, that William Herbert, earl of Pembroke, born in 1580, and afterward a man of noble and gallant character, though always of a licentious life, was shadowed under the initials of Mr. W. H. This hypothesis is not strictly proved, but sufficiently so, in my opinion, to demand our assent.* 50. Notwithstanding the frequent beau- ties of these sonnets, the pleasure of their perusal is greatly diminished by these cir- * In the Gentleman's Magazine for 1832, p. 217. et post, it will be seen that this occurred both to Mr. Boaden and Mr. Hey wood Bright. And it does not appear that Mr. Brown, author of the work above quoted, had any knowledge of their priority. Drake has fixed on Lord Southampton as the object of these sonnets, induced probably by the tradition of his friendship with Shakspeare, and by the letter's having dedicated to him his Venus and Adonis, as well as by what is remarkable on the face of the series of sonnets, that Shakspeare looked up to his friend " with reverence and hom- age." But, unfortunately, this was only the rever- ence and homage of an inferior to one of high rank, and not such as the virtues of Southampton might have challenged. Proofs of the low moral charac- ter of " Mr. W . H." are continual. It was also im- possible that Lord Southampton could be called " beauteous and lovely youth," or " sweet boy." Mrs. Jameson, in her " Loves of the Poets," has adopted the same hypothesis, but is forced, in con- sequence, to suppose some of the earlier sonnets to be" addressed to a woman. Pembroke succeeded to his father in 1601: I in- cline to think that the sonnets were written about that time, some probably earlier, some later. That they were the same as Meres, in 1598, has men- tioned among the compositions of Shakspeare, "his sugred sonnets among his private friends," I do not believe, both on account of the date, and from the peculiarly personal allusions they contain. cumstances ; and it is impossible not to wish that Shakspeare had never written them. There is a weakness and folly in all excessive and misplaced affection, which is not redeemed by the touches of nobler sentiments that abound in this long series of sonnets. But there are also faults of a merely critical nature. The obscurity is often such as only conjecture can penetrate ; the strain of tenderness and adoration would be too monotonous were it less unpleasing ; and so many frigid conceits are scattered around, that we might almost fancy the poet to have written without genuine emotion, did not such a host of other passages attest the contrary. 51. The sonnets of Drummond of Haw- thornden, the most celebrated in sonnets of that class of poets, have obtain- Drummond ed, probably, as much praise as and olhers - they deserve.* But they are polished and elegant, free from conceit and bad taste, in pure, unblemished English ; some are pathetic or tender in sentiment, and if they do not show much originality, at least would have acquired a fair place among the Italians of the sixteenth cen- tury. Those of Daniel, of Drayton, and of Sir William Alexander, afterward Earl of Stirling, are perhaps hardly inferior. Some may doubt, however, whether the last poet should be placed on such a level. f But the difficulty of finding the necessary rhymes in our language has caused most who have attempted the sonnet to swerve from laws which cannot be transgressed, at least to the degree they have often dared, without losing the unity for which that complex mechanism was contrived. Certainly three quatrains of alternate rhymes, succeeded by a couplet, which * I concur in this with Mr. Campbell, iv., 343. Mr. Southey thinks Drummond "has deserved the high reputation he has obtained ;" which seems to say the same thing, but is, in fact, different. He observes that Drummond " frequently borrows, and sometimes translates from the Italian and Spanish poets." Southey's British Poets, p. 798. The fu- rious invective of Gifford against. Drummond for having written private memoranda of his conversa- tions with Ben Jonson, which he did not publish, and which, for aught we know, were perfectly faithful, is absurd. Any one else would have been thankful for so much literary anecdote. t Lord Stirling is rather monotonous, as sonnet- teers usually are, and he addresses his mistress by the appellation, " Fair tygress." Campbell ob- serves that there is elegance of expression in a few of Stirling's shorter pieces, vol. iv., p. 206. The longest poem of Stirling is entitled Domesday, in twelve books, or, as he calls them, hours. It is written in the Italian octave stanza, and has some- what of the condensed style of the philosophical school, which he seems to have imitated, but his numbers are harsh. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 181 Lrummond, like many other English po- ets, has sometimes given us, is the very worst form of the sonnet, even if, in def- erence to a scanty number of Italian precedents, we allow it to pass as a son- net at all.* We possess, indeed, noble poetry in the form of sonnet ; yet with us it seems more fitted for grave than am- atory composition ; in the latter we miss the facility and grace of our native Eng- lish measures, the song, the madrigal, or the ballad. 52. Carew is the most celebrated among the lighter poets, though no collec- tion has hitherto embraced his en- tire writings. Headley has said, and Ellis echoes the praise, that " Carew has the ease without the pedantry of Waller, and perhaps less conceit. Waller is too ex- clusively considered as the first man who brought versification to anything like its present standard. Carew's pretensions to the same merit are seldom sufficiently either considered or allowed." Yet, in point of versification, others of the same age seem to have surpassed Carew, whose lines are often very harmonious, but not so artfully constructed or so uniformly pleasing as those of Waller. He is re- markably unequal ; the best of his little poems (none of more than thirty lines are good) excel all of his time ; but, after a few lines of great beauty, we often come to some ill expressed, or obscure, or weak, or inharmonious passage. Few will hesi- tate to acknowledge that he has more fancy and more tenderness than Waller, but less choice, less judgment and knowl- edge where to stop, less of the equability which never offends, less attention to the unity and thread of his little pieces. I should hesitate to give him, on the whole, the preference as a poet, taking collect- ively the attributes of that character ; for we must not, in such a comparison, over- look a good deal of very inferior merit * The legitimate sonnet consists of two quatrains and two tercets ; as much skill, to say the least, is required for the management of the latter as of the former. The rhymes of the last six lines are capa- ble of many arrangements ; but by far the worst, and alsc the least common in Italy, is that we usu- ally adopt, the fifth and sixth rhyming together, frequently after a full pause, so that the sonnet ends with the point of an epigram. The best form, as the Italians hold, is the rhyming together of the three uneven and the three even lines ; but, as our language is less rich in consonant terminations, there can be no objection to what has abundant precedents even in theirs, the rhyming of the first and fourth, second and fifth, third and sixth lines. This, with a break in the sense at the third line, will make a real sonnet, which Shakspeare, Mil- ton, Bowles, and Wordsworth have often failed to give us, even where they have given us something good instead. which may be found in the short volume of Carew's poems. The best has great beauty, but he has had, in late criticism, his full share of applause. Two of his most pleasing little poems appear also among those of Herrick ; and as Carew's were, I believe, published posthumously, I am rather inclined to prefer the claim of the other poet, independently of some in- ternal evidence as to one of them. In all ages, these very short compositions circu- late for a time in polished society, while mistakes as to the real author are natu- ral.* 53. The minor poetry of Ben Jonson is extremely beautiful. This is partly mixed with his masques and interludes, poetical and musical rather than dramatic pieces, and intended to grati- fy the imagination by the charm of song, as well as by the varied scenes that were brought before the eye ; partly in very short effusions of a single sentiment, among which two epitaphs are known by heart. Jonson possessed an admirable taste and feeling in poetry, which his dramas, except the Sad Shepherd, do not entirely lead us to value highly enough ; and when we consider how many other intellectual excellences distinguished him, wit, observation, judgment, memory, learn- ing, we must acknowledge that the inscrip- tion on his tomb, Oh rare Ben Jonson ! is not more pithy than it is true. 51. George Wither, by siding with the less poetical, though more prosper- w ous party in the civil war, and by a profusion of temporary writings to serve the ends of faction and folly, has left a name which we were accustomed to despise till Ellis did justice to " that playful fancy, * One of these poems begins, " Among the myrtles as I walked, Love and my sighs thus in- tertalked." Herrick wants four good lines which, are in Carew ; and, as they are rather more likely to have been interpolated than left out, this leads to a sort of inference that he was the original ; there are also some other petty improvements. The second poem is that beginning, " Ask me why I send you here This firstling of the infant year." Herrick gives the second line strangely, " This sweet infanta of the year," which is little else than nonsense ; and all the other variances are for the worse. I must leave it in doubt whether he bor- rowed and disfigured a little, or was himself im- proved upon. I must own that he has a trick of spoiling what he takes. Suckling has an incom- parable image on a lady dancing. Her feet beneath the petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light Herrick has it thus : Her pretty feet, like snails, did creep A little out ; A most singular parallel for an elegant dancer. 182 LITERATURE OF EUROPE pure taste, and artless delicacy of senti- ment which distinguish the poetry of his early youth." His best poems were pub- lished in 1622, with the title " Mistress of Philarete." Some of them are highly beautiful, and bespeak a mind above the grovelling Puritanism into which he after- ward fell. I think there is hardly anything in our lyric poetry of this period equal to Wither's lines on his Muse, published by Ellis.* 55. The poetry of Habington is that of a pure and amiable mind, turned Habington. tQ vers jfi cat i on by t h e custom of the age, during a real passion for a lady of birth and virtue, the Castara whom he afterward married ; but it displays no great original power, nor is it by any means exempt from the ordinary blemishes of hyperbolical compliment and far-fetched Earl of imagery. The poems of William, Pembroke. ear \ o f Pembroke, long known by the character drawn for him by Claren- don, and now as the object of Shakspeare's doting friendship, were ushered into the world after his death, with a letter of ex- travagant flattery addressed by Donne to Christiana, countess of Devonshire.! But there is little reliance to be placed on the freedom from interpolation of these post- humous editions. Among these poems attributed to Lord Pembroke, we find one of the best known of Carew's,J and even the famous lines addressed to the Soul, which some have given to Silvester. The poems, in general, are of little merit ; some are grossly indecent ; nor would they be mentioned here except for the interest re- cently attached to the author's name. But they throw no light whatever on the son- nets of Shakspe'are. 56. Sir John Suckling is acknowledged Buckling to nave ^^ ^ ar behind him all for- ' mer writers of song in gayety and ease ; it is not equally clear that he has ever since been surpassed. His poetry aims at no higher praise ; he shows no sentiment or imagination, either because he had them not, or because he did not re- quire either in the style he chose. Per- haps the Italians may have poetry in that style equal to Suckling's ; I do not know that they have, nor do I believe that there is any in French ; that there is none in * Ellis's Specimens of Early English Poets, iii. 96. t The only edition that I have seen, or that I find mentioned, of Lord Pembroke's poems is in 1660. But as Donne died in 1631, 1 conceive thai there must be one of earlier date. The Countess of Devonshire is not called dowager ; her husband died in 1643. t Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day. Lovelace. Latin I know.* Lovelace is chief- y known by a single song ; his other poetry is much inferior; and, in- deed, it may be generally remarked, that the flowers of our early verse, both in the Elizabethan and the subsequent age, have 3een well culled by good taste and a friend- y spirit of selection. We must not judge of them, or shall judge of them very fa- vourably, by the extracts of Headley or Ellis. 57. The most amorous, and among the jest of our amorous poets, was Robert Herrick, a clergyman eject- d from his living in Devonshire by the Long Parliament, whose " Hesperides, or Poems Human and Divine," were pub- dshed in 1648. Herrick's divine poems are, of course, such as might be presumed ay their title and by his calling ; of his human, which are poetically much su- perior, and probably written in early life, the greater portion is light and voluptuous, while some border on the licentious and indecent. A selection was published in 1815, by which, as commonly happens, the poetical fame of Herrick does not suffer ; a number of dull epigrams are omitted, and the editor has a manifest preference for what must be owned to be the most elegant and attractive part of his author's rhymes. He has much of the lively grace that distinguishes Anacreon and Catullus, and approaches also, with a less cloying monotony, to the Basia ol Joannes Secundus. Herrick has as much variety as the poetry of kisses can wel/ have ; but his love is in a very slight de- gree that of sentiment, or even any intense passion ; his mistresses have little to rec- ommend them, even in his own eyes save their beauties, and none of these art omitted in his catalogues. Yet he is abun- dant in the resources of verse ; without the exuberant gayety of Suckling, or perhaps the delicacy of Carew, he is sportive, fanciful, and generally of polished lan- guage. The faults of his age are some- times apparent ; though he is not often obscure, he runs, more, perhaps, for the sake of variety than any other cause, into occasional pedantry ; he has his conceits and false thoughts, but these are more than redeemed by the numerous very little poems (for those of Herrick are frequent- ly not longer than epigrams), which may be praised without much more qualification than belongs to such poetry. 58. John Milton was born in 1609. Few * Suckling's Epithalamium, though not writter for those " Qui Musas colitis severiores," has beer read by almost all the world, and is a matchlest piece of li veliness and facility. FROM 1GOO TO 1C50. 183 IWnton. are ignorant of his life, in recover- ing and recording every circum- stance of which no diligence has been spared, nor has it often been unsuccessful. Of his Latin poetry some was written at the age of seventeen ; in English we have nothing, I believe, the date of which i known to be earlier than the sonnet 0! entering his twenty- third year. In 163 he wrote Comus, which was published in 1637. Lycidas was written in the latte year, and most of his shorter pieces sooi afterward, except the sonnets, some o: which do not come within the first hal of the century. 09. Comus was sufficient to convince any one of taste and feeling tha His Comus. * , j -i-i a great poet had arisen in JrMig land, and one partly formed in a different school from his contemporaries. Man} of them had produced highly beautiful anc imaginative passages ; but none had evin- ced so classical a judgment, none hac aspired to so regular a perfection. Jon- son had learned much from the ancients ; but there was a grace in their best model which he did not quite attain. Neither his Sad Shepherd nor the Faithful Shep- dignity of Comus. A noble virgin and her young brothers, by whom this masque was originally represented, required an eleva- tion, a purity, a sort of severity of senti- ment which no one in that age could have given but Milton. He avoided, and no- thing loth, the more festive notes which dramatic poetry was wont to mingle with its serious strain. But for this he com- pensated by the brightest hues of fancy and the sweetest melody of song. In Co- mus we find nothing prosaic or feeble ; no false taste in the incidents, and not much in the language ; nothing over which we should desire to pass on a second perusal. The want of what we may call personali- ty, none of the characters having names, except Comus himself, who is a very in- definite being, and the absence of all pos- itive attributes of time and place, enhance the ideality of the fiction by a certain in- distinctness not unpleasing to the imagin- ation. 60. It has been said, I think very fairly, that Lycidas is a good test of a 8 ' real feeling for what is peculiarly called poetry. Many, or, perhaps we might say, most readers, do not taste its excellence ; nor does it follow that they may not greatly admire Pope and Dry- den, or even Virgil and Homer. It is, however, somewhat remarkable, that John- son, who has committed his critical repu- tation by the most contemptuous depre- ciation of this poem, had in an earlier part of his life selected the tenth eclogue of Virgil for peculiar praise ;* the tenth ec- logue, which, beautiful as it is, belongs to the same class of pastoral and personal allegory, and requires the same sacrifice of reasoning criticism as the Lycidas it- self. In the age of Milton, the poetical world had been accustomed, by the Italian and Spanish writers, to a more abundant use of allegory than has been pleasing to their posterity ; but Lycidas is not so much in the nature of an allegory as of a masque ; the characters pass before our eyes in imagination as on the stage ; they are chiefly mythological, but not creations of the poet. Our sympathy with the fate of Lycidas may not be much stronger than for the desertion of Callus by his mistress ; but many poems will yield an exquisite pleasure to the imagination that produce no emotion in the heart ; or none, at least, except through associations inde- pendent of the subject. 61. The introduction of St. Peter after the fabulous deities of the sea has appear- en an incongruity deserving of censure to some admirers of this poem. It would be very reluctantly that we could abandon to this criticism the most splendid passage it presents. But the censure rests, as I think, on too narrow a principle. In nar- rative or dramatic poetry, where some- thing like illusion or momentary belief is to be produced, the mind requires an ob- jective possibility, a capacity of real ex- istence, not only in all the separate por- tions of the imagined story, but in their oherency and relation to a common whole. Whatever is obviously incongru- ous, whatever shocks our previous knowl- dge of possibility, destroys, to a certain xtent, that acquiescence in the fiction which it is the true business of the fiction ;o produce. But the case is not the same n such poems as Lycidas. They pretend :o no credibility, they aim at no illusion ; ,hey are read with the willing abandon- ment of the imagination to a waking dream, and require only that general pos- ibility, that combination of images which ommon experience does not reject as ncompatible, without which the fancy of he poet would be only like that of the lu- natic. And it had been so usual to blend sacred with mythological personages in allegory, that no one, probably, in Milton's age would have been struck by the objec- ion. 62. The Allegro and Penseroso are per- laps more familiar to us than any part of Adventurer, No. 92. 184 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Allegro and the writings of Milton. They Penseroso. satisfy the critics, and they de- light mankind. The choice of images is so judicious, their succession so rapid, the allusions are so various and pleasing, the leading distinction of the poems is so felicitously maintained, the versification is so animated, that we may place them at the head of that long series of descrip- tive poems which our language has to boast. It may be added, as in the greater part of Milton's writings, that they are sustained at a uniform pitch, with but few blemishes of expression, and scarce any feebleness ; a striking contrast, in this re- spect, to all the contemporaneous poetry, except, perhaps, that of Waller. Johnson has thought that, while there is no mirth in his melancholy, he can detect some melancholy in his mirth. This seems to be too strongly put ; but it may be said that his Allegro is rather cheerful than gay, and that even his cheerfulness is not always without effort. In these poems he is indebted to Fletcher, to Burton, to Browne, to Withers, and probably to more of our early versifiers ; for he was a great collector of sweets from those wild flow- ers. 63. The Ode on the Nativity, far less ode on the popular than most of the poetry Nativity. O f Milton, is perhaps the finest in the English language. A grandeur, a sim- plicity, a breadth of manner, an imagina- tion at once elevated and restrained by the subject, reign throughout it. If Pin- dar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be. hard to name any other ode so truly Pin- daric ; but more has naturally been deri- ved from the Scriptures. Of the other short poems, that on the Death of the Mar- chioness of Winchester deserves particu- lar mention. It is pity that the first lines are bad, and the last much worse ; for rarely can we find more feeling or beauty than in some other passages. 64. The sonnets of Milton have obtain- ed, of late years, the admiration His sonnets, r -11 i i r of all real lovers of poetry. Johnson has been as impotent to fix the public taste in this instance as in his other criticisms on the smaller poems of the author of Paradise Lost. These sonnets are indeed unequal ; the expression is sometimes harsh and sometimes obscure ; sometimes too much of pedantic allusion interferes with the sentiment ; nor am I reconciled to his frequent deviations from the best Italian structure. But such blem- ishes are lost in the majestic simplicity, the holy calm, that ennoble many of these short compositions. 65. Many anonymous songs, many pop- ular lays, both of Scottish and Anonymous English minstrelsy, were pour- poetry, ed forth in this period of the seventeenth century. Those of Scotland became, af- ter the union of the crowns, and the con- sequent cessation of rude border frays, less warlike than before ; they are still, however, imaginative, pathetic, and nat- ural. It is probable that the best are a little older; but their date is seldom de- terminable with much precision. The same may be said of the English ballads, which, so far as of a merely popular na- ture, appear, by their style and other cir- cumstances, to belong more frequently to the reign of James I. than any other pe- riod. SECT. VI. ON LATIN POETRY. Latin Poets of France and other Countries. Of England : May. Milton. 66. FRANCE, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, had been re- i, a tin poew markably fruitful of Latin poe- f France, try ; it was the pride of her scholars, and sometimes of her statesmen. In the age that we have now in review, we do not find so many conspicuous names ; but the custom of academical institutions, and especially of the seminaries conducted by the Jesuits, kept up a facility of Latin versification, which it was by no means held pedantic or ridiculous to exhibit in riper years. The French enumerate sev- eral with praise : Guijon, Bourbon (Bor- bonius), whom some have compared with the best of the preceding century, and among whose poems that on the Death of Henry IV. is reckoned the best ; Cerisan- tes, equal, as some of his admirers think, to Sarbievius, and superior, as others pre- sume, to Horace ; and Petavius, who, hav- ing solaced his leisure hours with Greek and Hebrew, as well as Latin versifica- tion, has obtained in the last the general suffrage of critics.* 1 can speak of none of these from direct knowledge, except * Baillet, Jugemens des Sc,avans, has criticised all these and several more. Rapin's opinion on Latin poetry is entitled to much regard from his own excellence in it. He praises three lyrists, Cas- imir, Magdelenet, and Cerisantes ; the two latter being French. Sarhieuski a de 1'elevalion mail sans purete ; Magdelenet est pur mais sans Eleva- tion. Cerisantes a joint dans ses odes 1'un et I'au tre ; car il ecrit noblement, et d'un style assez pur Apres tout, il n'a pas tant de feu, que Casimir, !e quel avoit hien de 1'esprit, et de cet esprit heureuj qui fait les potes. Bucanan a des odes dignes d I'antiquite, mais ilaile grandes inegalitespar le m6 lange de son caractere qui n'est pas assez uni. R flexions sur la Poetique, p. 208. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 185 of Borbonius, whose Dirae on the death of Henry have not appeared to my judg- ment deserving of so much eulogy. 67. The Germans wrote much in Latin, in Germany especially in the earlier decads and Italy. o f this period. Melissus Sche- dius, not undistinguished in his native tongue, might have been mentioned as a Latin poet in the former volume, since most of his compositions were published in the sixteenth century. In Italy we have not many conspicuous names. The bad taste that infested the school of Mari- ni, spread also, according to Tiraboschi, over Latin poetry. Martial, Lucan, and Claudian became in their eyes better mod- els than Catullus and Virgil. Baillet, or, rather, those whom he copies, and among whom Rossi, author of the Pinacotheca Virorum illustrium, under the name of Erythraeus, a profuse and indiscriminating panegyrist, for the most part, of his con- temporaries, furnishes the chief materials, bestows praise on Cesarini and Queren- ghi, whom even Tiraboschi selects from the crowd, and Maffei Barberini, best known as Pope Urban VIII. 68. Holland stood at the head of Eu- in Holland, rope in this line of poetry. Gro- Heinsius. tins has had the reputation of writing with spirit, elegance, and imagina- tion. But he is excelled by Heinsius. whose elegies, still more than his hexam- eters, may be ranked high in modern Lat- in. The habit, however, of classical imi- tation has so much weakened all individ- j ual originality in these versifiers, that it is often difficult to distinguish them, or to pronounce of any twenty lines that they might not have been written by some oth- er author. Compare, for example, the el- egies of Buchanan with those of Hein- sius, wherever there are no proper names to guide us ; a more finished and contin- ued elegance belongs, on the whole (as at least I should say), to the latter, but in a short passage this may not be perceptible, and 1 believe few would guess with much confidence between the two. Heinsius, however, like most of .the Dutch, is re- markably fond of a polysyllabic close in the pentameter; at least in his Juvenilia, which, notwithstanding their title, are per- haps better than his later productions. As it is not necessary to make a distinct head for the Latin drama, we may here advert to a tragedy by Heinsius, Herodes Infanticida. This has been the subject of a critique by Balzac, for the most part very favourable ; and it certainly contains some highly beautiful passages. Perhaps the description of the Virgin's feelings on the Nativity, though praised by Balzac, and VOL. II. A A exquisitely classical in diction, is not quite in the best taste.* 69. Sidonius Hoschius, a Flemish Jesu- it, is extolled by Baillet and his casimir authorities. But another of the surbievius same order, Casimir Sarbievius, a Pole, is far better known, and in lyric poetry, which he almost exclusively cultivated, obtained a much higher reputation. He had lived some years at Rome, and is full of Roman allusion. He had read Horace, as Sanna- zarius had Virgil, and Heinsius Ovid, till the style and tone became spontaneous ; but he has more of centonism than the other two. Yet, while he constantly re- minds us of Horace, it is with as constant an inferiority ; we feel that his Rome was not the same Rome ; that Urban VIII. was not Augustus, nor the Polish victories on the Danube like those of the sons of Livia. Hence his flattery of the great, though not a step beyond that of his master, seems rather more displeasing, because we have it only on his word that they were truly great. Sarbievius seldom rises high or pours out an original feeling ; but he is free from conceits, never becomes prosa- ic, and knows how to put in good lan- guage the commonplaces with which his subject happens to furnish him. He is, to a certain degree, in Latin poetry what Chiabrera is in Italian, but does not de- serve so high a place. Sarbievius was perhaps the first who succeeded much in the Alcaic stanza, which the earlier poets seem to avoid, or to use unskilfully. But he has many unwarrantable licenses in his metre, and even false quantities, as is com- mon to the great majority of these Latin versifiers. 70. Caspar Barlaeus had as high a name, perhaps, as any Latin poet of this Bar[ age. His rhythm is indeed excel- lent ; but if he ever rises to other excel- lence. I have not lighted on the passages. A greater equality I have never found than in Barlaeus ; nothing is bad, nothing is striking. It was the practice with * Oculosque nunc hue pavida mine illuc jacit, Interque matrem virginemque haerent adhuc Suspensa rnatris gaudia, ae trepidus pudor. * * * ssepe, cum blandus puer Aut a sopore languidas jactat manus, Tenerisque labris pectus intactum petit, Virginea subitus ora perfundit rubor, Laudemque matris virginis crimen putat. A critique on the poems of Heinsius will be found in the Retrospective Review, vol. i., p. 49 ; but, not withstanding the laudatory spirit, which is, for tha most part, too ^discriminating in that publication, the reviewer has not done justice to Heinsius, and hardly seems, perhaps, a very competent judge of Latin verse. The suffrages of those who were so in favour of this Batavian poet, are collected *>; Baillet, n. 1482. 186 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Dutchmen on their marriage to purchase epithalamiums in hexameter verse; and the muse of Barlaeus was in request. These nuptial songs are of course about Peleus and Thetis, or similar personages, interspersed with fitting praises of the bride and bridegroom. Such poetry is not likely to rise high. The epicedia, or fu- neral lamentations, paid for by the heir, are little, if at all, better than the epitha- lamia ; and the panegyrical effusions on public or private events rather worse. The elegies of Barlaeus, as we generally find, are superior to the hexameters ; he has here the same smoothness of versifi- cation, and a graceful gayety which gives us pleasure. In some of his elegies and epistles he counterfeits the Ovidian style extremely well, so that they might pass for those of his model. Still there is an equability, a recurrence of trivial thoughts and forms, which, in truth, is too much characteristic of modern Latin to be a re- proach to Barlaeus. He uses the polysyl- labic termination less than earlier Dutch poets. One of the epithalamia of Barte- rs, it may be observed before we leave him, is entitled Paradisus, and recounts the nuptials of Adam and Eve. It is pos- sible that Milton may have seen this ; the fourth book of the Paradise Lost, com- presses the excessive diffuseness of Bar- laeus, but the ideas are in g^reat measure the same. Yet, since this must naturally be the case, we cannot presume imitation. That Milton availed himself of all the po- etry he had read, we cannot doubt ; if Lau- der had possessed as much learning as ma- lignity, he might have made out his case (such as it would have been) without hav- ing recourse to his own stupid forgeries. Few of the poems of Barlaeus are so re- dundant as this ; he has the gift of string- ing together mythological parallels and descriptive poetry without stint, and his discretion does not inform him where to stop. 71. The eight books of Sylvae by Balde, Baide. a German ecclesiastic, are ex- Greek poems tolled by Baillet and Bouterwek of Heinsms. are tumid and unclassical ; yet some have called him equal to Horace. Heinsius tried his skill in Greek verse. His Peplus Graecorum Epigrammatum was published in 1613. These are what our schoolboys would call very indifferent in point of ele- gance, and, as I should conceive, of accu- racy : articles and expletives (as they used to be happily called) are perpetually em- ployed for the sake of the metre, not of the sense. 72. Scotland might perhaps compete with Holland in this as well as , ,. , Latin poets in the preceding age. IntheDe- of Scotland litiae Poetarum Scotorum, pub- Jonston's lished in 1637 by Arthur Jon- Pl ston, we find about an equal produce of each century, the whole number being thirty-seven. Those of Jonston himself, and some elegies by Scot of Scotstarvet, are among the best. The Scots certainly wrote Latin with a good ear and consider- able elegance of phrase. A sort of crit- ical controversy was carried on in the last century as to the versions of the Psalms by Buchanan and Jonston. Though the national honour may seem equally secure by the superiority of either, it has, I be- lieve, been usual in Scotland to maintain the older poet against all the world. I am, nevertheless, inclined to think that Jon- ston's Psalms, all of which are in elegiac metre, do not fall short of those of Bur chanan, either in elegance of style or in correctness of Latinity. In the 137th, with which Buchanan has taken much pains, he may be allowed the preference, but not at a great interval, and he has at- tained this superiority by too much dif- fuseness. 73. Nothing good, and hardly tolerable, in a poetical sense, had appear- Owen's Epi ed in Latin verse among our- grams, selves till this period. Owen's Epigrams (Audoeni Epigrammata), a well-known collection, were published in 1607 ; une- qual enough, they are sometimes neat, and more often witty : but they scarcely as- pire to the name of poetry. Ala- Alabaster's baster, a man of recondite He- Re his own,& the ancient theatre began to be studied, rules were laid down and par- tially observed, a perfect decorum replaced the licentiousness and gross language of the old writers. Mairet and Rotrou, though without rising, in their first plays, much ibove Hardy, just served to prepare the way for the father and founder of the na- tional theatre. || 18. The Melite of Corneille, his first production, was represented in 1G29, when he was twenty-three years of age. This is only distinguished, as some say, from those of Hardy by a greater vigour of style ; but Fontenelle gives a very differ- ent opinion. It had at least a success which caused a new troop of actors to be established in the Marais. His next, * Fontenelle, Hist, du Theatre Francois (in fEuvres de Fontenelle, iii., 72). Suard, Melanges de Litterature, vol. iv. t Suard, p. 134. Rotrou boasts, that since he wrote for the theatre, it had become so well rpgn- l;-:ted that respectable women might go to it with as little scruple as to the Luxembourg garden Cor- neille, however, has in general the credit of having purified the stage ; after his second piece, Clitan- dre, he admitted nothing licentious in his comedies. The only remain of grossness, Fontenelle observes, was that the lovers se tutoyoient ; but, as he gravely poes on to remark, le tutoiement ne cheque pas Irs bonnes mcetirs ; il ne choque que la politesse ft la vraie galanterie, p. 91. But the last instance of this heinous offence is in Le Menteur. J Suard, ubi supra. t> Fontenelle, p. 84, 96. 11 Id., p. 78. It is difficult in France, as it is with us, to ascertain the date of plays, because they were often represented for years before they came from the press. It is conjectured by Fontenelle that one or two pieces of Mairet and Rotrou may have preceded any by Corneille. VOL. II. BB Clitandre, it is agreed, is not so good. But La Veuve is much better; irregular in ac- tion, but with spirit, character, and well- invented situations, it is the first model of the higher comedy.* These early come- dies must, in fact, have been relatively of considerable merit, since they raised Cor- neille to high reputation, and connected him with the literary men of his time. The Medea, though much borrowed from Seneca, gave a tone of grandeur and dig- nity unknown before to French tragedy. This appeared in 1635, and was followed by the Cid next year. 19. Notwithstanding the defence made by La Harpe, I cannot but agree with the French Academy, in their criticism on this play, that the subject is essentially ill-chosen. No circumstances can be imagined, no skill can be employed, that will reconcile the mind to the mar- riage of a daughter with one that has shed her father's blood. And the law of unity of time, which crowds every event of thd drama within a few hours, renders the promised consent of Chimene (for such it is) to this union still more revolting and improbable.! The knowledge of this ter- mination reacts on the reader during a second perusal, so as to give an irresisti- ble impression of her insincerity in her previous solicitations for his death. She seems, indeed, in several passages, little else than a tragic coquette, and one of the most odious kind.J The English stage at that time was not exempt from great vio- lations of nature and decorum ; yet had the subject of the Cid fallen into the hands of Beaumont and Fletcher, and it is one which they would have willingly selected, for the sake of the effective situations and contrasts of passion it affords, the part of Chimene would have been managed by them with great warmth and spirit, though probably not less incongruity and extrava- gance ; but I can scarcely believe that the conclusion would have been so much in * Suard. Fontenelle. La Harpe. t La Harpe has said that Chimene does not promise at last to marry Rodrigue, though the spectator perceives that she will do so. He forgets that she has commissioned her lover's sword in the duel with Don Sanrho: Sors vainquenr d'un combat dont Chimene est le prix. Act v., sc. 1. J In these lines, /or example, of the third act, scene 4th : Malgre les feux si beaux qui rompent ma colAre, Je ferai mon possible a bien venger mon pere ; Mais malgre la rigueur d'un si cruel devoir, Mon unique souhait est de ne rien pouvoir. It is true that he found this in his Spanish ori- ginal, but that does not render the imitation judi- cious, or the sentiment either moral, or even theatri- cally specious. 194 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the style of comedy. Her death, or re- tirement into a monastery, would have seemed more consonant to her own dignity and to that of a tragic subject. Corneille was, however, borne out by the tradition of Spain, and by the authority of Guillen, de Castro, whom he imitated. 20. The language of Corneille is ele- siyic of vatcd ; his sentiments, if some- corneiiie. times hyperbolical, generally no- ble, when he has not to deal with the passion of love ; conscious of the nature of his own powers, he has avoided sub- jects wherein this must entirely predomi- nate ; it was to be, as he thought, an ac- cessory, but never a principal source of dramatic interest. In this, however, as a general law of tragedy, he was mistaken ; love is by no means unfit for the chief source of tragic distress, but comes in generally with a cold and feeble effect as a subordinate emotion. In those Roman stories he most affected, its expression could hardly be otherwise than insipid and incongruous. Corneille probably would have dispensed with it, like Shakspeare in Coriolanus and Julius Csesar; but the taste of his contemporaries, formed in the pedantic school of romance, has im- posed fetters on his genius in almost ev- ery drama. In the Cid, where the subject left him no choice, he has, perhaps, suc- ceeded better in the delineation of love than on any other occasion; yet even here we often find the cold exaggerations of complimentary verse instead of the voice of nature. But other scenes of this play, especially in the first act, which bring forward the proud Castilian charac- ters of the two fathers of Rodrigo and Chimene, are full of the nervous elo- quence of Corneille ; and the general style, though it may not have borne the fastidious criticism either of the Academy or of Voltaire, is so far above anything which had been heard on the French stage, that it was but a very frigid eulogy in the former to say that it " had acquired a considerable reputation among works of the kind." It had at that time aston- ished Paris ; but the prejudices of Cardi- nal Richelieu and the envy of inferior au- thors, joined, perhaps, to the proverbial unwillingness of critical bodies to commit themselves by warmth of praise, had some degree of influence on the judgment which the Academy pronounced on the Cid, though I do not think it was altogether so unjust and uncandid as has sometimes been supposed. 21. The next tragedy of Corneille, Les Horaces, is hardly open to less ces ' objection than the Cid ; not so much because there is, as the French critics have discovered, a want of unity in the subject, which I do not quite per- ceive, nor because the fifth act is tedious and uninteresting, as from the repulsive- ness of the story, and the jarring of the sentiments with our natural sympathies, Corneille has complicated the legend in Livy with the marriage of the younger Horatius to the sister of the Curiatii, and thus placed his two female personages in a nearly similar situation, which he has taken little pains to diversify by any con- trast in their characters. They speak, on the contrary, nearly in the same tone ; and we see no reason why the hero of the tragedy should not, as he seems half disposed, have followed up the murder of his sister by that of his wife. More skill is displayed in the opposition of character between the combatants themselves ; but the mild, though not less courageous or patriotic Curiatius attaches the spectator, who cares nothing for the triumph of Rome or the glory of the Horatian name. It must be confessed that the elder Hora- tius is nobly conceived ; the Roman ener- gy, of which we find but a caricature in his brutish son, shines out in him with an ad- mirable dramatic spirit. I shall be accu- sed, nevertheless, of want of taste, when I confess that his celebrated Qu'il mour&t has always seemed to me less eminent- ly sublime than the general suffrage of France has declared it. There is nothing very novel or striking in the proposition, that a soldier's duty is to die in the field rather than desert his post by flight ; and in a tragedy full of the hyperboles of Ro- man patriotism, it appears strange that we should be astonished at that which is the principle of all military honour. The words are emphatic in their position, and calculated to draw forth the actor's ener- gy ; but this is an artifice of no great skill ; and one can hardly help thinking that a spectator in the pit would sponta- neously have anticipated the answer of a warlike father to the feminine question, Que vouliez-vous qu'il fit contre trois ? The style of this tragedy is reckoned by the critics superior to that of the Cid ; the nervousness and warmth of Corneille is more displayed ; and it is more free from incorrect and trivial expression. 22. Cinna, the next in order of time, is probably that tragedy of Corneille Cinn ^ which would be placed at the head by a majority of suffrages. His elo- quence reached here its highest point ; the speeches are longer, more vivid in narration, more philosophical in argu- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 195 ment, more abundant in that strain of Roman energy which he had derived chiefly from Lucan, more emphatic and condensed in their language and versifi- cation. But, as a drama, this is deserv- ing of little praise ; the characters of Cinna and Maximus are contemptible ; that of Emilia is treacherous and un- grateful. She is, indeed, the type ,of a numerous class, who have followed her in works of fiction, and sometimes, unhap- pily, in real life ; the female patriot, the- oretically, at least, an assassin, but com- monly compelled, by the iniquity of the times, to console herself in practice with safer transgressions. We have had some specimens ; and other nations, to their shame and sorrow, have had more. But even the magnanimity of Augustus, whom we have not seen exposed to instant dan- ger, is uninteresting ; nor do we perceive why he should bestow his friendship, as well as his forgiveness, on the detected traitor that cowers before him. It is one of those subjects which might, by the in- vention of a more complex plot than his- tory furnishes, have better excited the spectator's attention, but not his sympa- thy. 23. A deeper interest belongs to Poly- Pol eucte euct;e ; an d this is the only trage- dy of ^Corneille wherein he af- fects the heart. * There is, indeed, a cer- tain incongruity which we cannot over- come between the sanctity of Christian martyrdom and the language of love, es- pecially when the latter is rather the more prominent of the two in the con- duct of the drama.* But the beautiful character of Pauline would redeem much greater defects than can be ascribed to this tragedy. It is the noblest, perhaps, on the French stage, and conceived Avith admirable delicacy and dignity. f In the style, however, of Polyeucte, there seems to be some return towards the languid * The coterie at the Hotel Rambonillet thought that Polyencte would not succeed, on account of its religious character. Corneille, it is said, was about to withdraw his tragedy, but was dissuaded by an actor of so little reputation that he did not even bear a part in the performance. Fontenelle, p. 101. f- Fontenelle thinks that it shows " un grand at- tachement a son devoir, et un grand caracterel? in Pauline to desire that Severus should save her hus- band's life, instead of procuring the latter to be ex- ecuted that she might marry her lover. Reflexions sur la Poetique, sect. 16. This is rather an odd notion of what is sufficient to constitute an heroic character. It is not the conduct of Pauline, which in every Christian and virtuous woman must natu- rally be the same, but the fine sentiments and lan- guage which accompany it, that, render her part so noble. tone of commonplace, which had been wholly thrown off in Cinna.* 24. Rodogune is said to have been a fa- vourite with the author. It can hardly be so with the generality of his readers. The story has all the atrocity of the older school, from which Corneille had emancipated the stage. It borders even on ridicule. Two princes, kept by their mother one of those furies whom our own Webster or Marston would have delighted to draw in ignorance which is the elder, and consequently entitled to the throne, are enamoured of Rodogune. Their mother makes it a condition of de. claring the succession, that they shall shed, the blood of this princess. Struck with horror at such a proposition, they refer their passion to the choice of Rodogune, who, in her turn, demands the death of their mother. The embarrassment of these amiable youths may be conceived^ La Harpe extols the first act of this tra- gedy, and it may perhaps be effective in representation. 25. Pompey, sometimes inaccurately called the Death of Pompey, is Pom more defective in construction than even any other tragedy of Corneille. The hero, if Pompey is such, never ap- pears on the stage ; and his death being re- counted at the beginning of the second act, the real subject of the piece, so far as it can be said to have one, is the punish- ment of his assassins; a retribution de- manded by the moral sense of the specta- tor, but hardly important enough for dra- matic interest. The character of Caesar is somewhat weakened by his passion for Cleopatra, which assumes more the tone of devoted gallantry than truth or proba- bility warrant ; but Cornelia, though with some Lucanic extravagance, is full of a Roman nobleness of spirit, which renders her, after Pauline, but at a long interval, the finest among the female characters of Corneille. The language is not beneath that of his earlier tragedies. 26. In Heraclius we begin to find an in- feriority of style. Few passages, HeracUu8 especially after the first act, are written with much vigour; and the plot, instead of the faults we may ascribe to some of the former dramas, a too great simplicity and want of action, offends by the perplexity of its situations, and still more by their nature, since they are * In the second scene of the second act, between Severus and Paulino, two characters of the most elevated class, the former quits the stage with this line: Adieu, trop vertueux objet, et trop charmant. The latter replies, Adieu, trop malheureux, et trop parfait auiunt. 196 LITERATURE OF EUROPE wholly among the proper resources of comedy. The true and the false Herac- lius, each uncertain of his paternity, each afraid to espouse one who may or may not be his sister ; the embarrassment of Pho- cas, equally irritated by both, but aware that, in putting either to death, he may punish his own son; the art of Leontine, who produces this confusion, not by si- lence, but by a series of inconsistent false- hoods ; all these are in themselves ludi- crous, and such as in comedy could pro- duce no other effect than laughter. 27. Nicomede is generally placed by the . , critics below Heraclius, an opin- Nicomede. . . i u T u ui.ii ion in which I should hardly con- cur. The plot is feeble and improbable, but more tolerable than the strange en- tanglements of Heraclius ; and the spirit of Corneille shines out more in the char- acters and sentiments. None of his later tragedies deserve much notice, except that we find one of his celebrated scenes in Sertorius, a drama of little general merit. Nicomede and Sertorius were both first represented after the middle of the century. 28. Voltaire has well distinguished the Faults and nne scenes of Corneille and the beauties of fine tragedies of Racine. It can, Corneille p erna ps 5 hardly be said that, with the exception of Polyeucte, the former has produced a single play, which, taken as a whole, we can commend. The keys of the passions were not given to his cus- tody. But in that which he introduced upon the French stage, and which long continued to be its boast impressive, en- ergetic declamation; thoughts masculine, bold, and sometimes sublime, conveyed in a style for the most part clear, con- densed, and noble, and in a rhythm sono- rous and satisfactory to the ear he has not since been equalled. Lucan, it has always been said, was the favourite study of Corneille. No one, indeed, can admire one who has not a strong relish for the other. That the tragedian has ever sur- passed the highest flights of his Roman prototype, it might be difficult to prove ; but if his fire is not more intense, it is ac- companied with less smoke ; his hyper- boles, for such he has, are less frequent and less turgid ; his taste is more judi- cious ; he knows better, especially in de- scription, what to choose and where to stop. Lucan, however, would have dis- dained the politeness of the amorous he- roes of Corneille ; and, though often te- dious, often offensive to good taste, is never languid or ignoble. 29. The first French comedy written in LeMenteur P! ite lan g ua g e > without low wit or indecency, is due to Corneille, or, rather, in some degree, to the Span- ish author whom he copied in Le Men- teur. This has been improved a little by Goldoni, and our own well-known farce, The Liar, is borrowed from both. The incidents are diverting, but it belongs to the subordinate class of comedy, and a better moral would have been shown in the disgrace of the principal character. Another comedy about the same time, Le Pedant Joue, by Cyrano de Bergerac, had much success. It has been called the first comedy in prose, and the first where- in a provincial dialect is introduced ; the remark as to the former circumstance shows a forgetfulness of Larivey. Mo- liere has borrowed freely from this play. 30. The only tragedies, after those of Corneille, anterior to 1650, other French which the French themselves tragedies, hold worthy of remembrance, are the So- phonisbe of Mairet, in which some char- acters and some passages are vigorously conceived ; but the style is debased by low and ludicrous thoughts, which later critics never fail to point out with severity ;* the Scevole of Duryer, the best of several good tragedies, full of lines of great sim- plicity in expression, but which seem to gain force by their simplicity, by one who, though never sublime, adopted with suc- cess the severe and reasoning style of Corneille ;f the Marianne of Tristan, which, at its appearance in 1637, passed for a rival of the Cid, and remained for a century on the stage, but is now ridiculed for a style alternately turgid and ludi- crous ; and the Wenceslas of Rotrou, which had not ceased thirty years since to be represented, and perhaps is so still. 31, This tragedy, the best work of a fertile dramatist, who did himself wencesias honour by a ready acknowledg- of Rotrou. ment of the superiority of Corneille, in- stead of canvassing the suffrages of those who always envy genius, is by no means so much below that great master, as, in the unfortunate efforts of his later years, lie was below himself. Wenceslas was represented in 1647. It may be admitted that Rotrou had conceived his plot, which is wholly original, in the spirit of Cor- neille ; the masculine energy of the senti- ments, the delineation of bold and fierce passions, of noble and heroic love, the at- tempt even at political philosophy, are copies of that model. It seems, indeed, that in several scenes, Rotrou must, out of mere generosity to Corneille, have deter- mined to out-do one of his most unexcep- tionable passages, the consent of Chimene * Suard, ubi supra. t Id., p. 196. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 197 tu sspouse the Cid. His own curtain droos on the vanishing reluctance of his heroine to accept the hand of a monster whom she hated, and who had just mur- dered her lover in his own brother. It is the Lady Anne of Shakspeare ; but Lady Anne is not a heroine. Wenceslas is not unworthy of comparison with the second class of Corneille's tragedies. But the ridiculous tone of language and sentiment which the heroic romances had rendered popular, and from which Corneille did not wholly emancipate himself, often appears in this piece of Rotrou ; the intrigue is rather too complex, in the Spanish style, for tragedy ; the diction seems frequently obnoxious to the most indulgent criticism ; but, above all, the story is essentially ill- contrived, ending in the grossest violation of poetical justice ever witnessed on the stage, the impunity and even the triumph of one of the worst characters that was ever drawn. SECT. III. ON THE ENGLISH DRAMA. London Theatres. Shakspeare. Jonson. Beau- mont and Fletcher. Massinger. Other English Dramatists. 32. THE English drama had been en- Ponuiaritv coura g ed through the reign of of the stage Elizabeth by increasing populari- under Eiiz- ty, notwithstanding the strenuous aheth. opposition of a party sufficiently powerful to enlist the magistracy, and, in a certain measure, the government on its side. A progressive improvement in dra- matic writing, possibly also, though we know less of this, in the skill of the ac- tors, ennobled, while it kept alive, the public taste ; the crude and insipid com- positions of an Edwards or a Whetstone, among numbers more whose very names are lost, gave way to the real genius of Greene and Marlowe, and, after them, to Shakspeare. 33. At the beginning of this century, Number of not less than eleven regular play- theatres, houses had been erected in Lon- don and its suburbs ; several of which, it appears, were still in use, an order of the privy council in 1600, restraining the num- ber to two, being little regarded. Of these, the most important was that of the Black Friars, with which another, called the Globe, on the opposite side of the river, was connected ; the same company per- forming at the former in winter, at the, latter in summer. This was the company of which Burbage, the best actor of the day, was chief, and to which Shakspeare, who was also a proprietor, belonged. Their names appear in letters patent and other legal instruments.* 34. James was fond of these amuse- ments, and had encouraged them Encouraged in Scotland. The Puritan influ- by James. ence, which had been sometimes felt in the council of Elizabeth, came speedily to an end ; though the representation of plays on Sundays, a constant theme of com- plaint, but never wholly put down, was now abandoned, and is not even tolerated by the declaration of sports. The several companies of players, who, in her reign, had been under the nominal protection of some men of rank, were now denominated the servants of the king, the queen, or other royal personages. f They were re- lieved from some of the vexatious control they had experienced, and subjected only to the gentle sway of the Master of the Revels. It was his duty to revise all dra- matic works before they were represent- ed, to exclude profane and unbecoming language, and specially to take care that there should be no interference with mat- ters of state. The former of these func- tions must have been rather laxly exer- cised ; but there are instances in which a license was refused on account of very recent history being touched ''a a play. 35. The reigns of James and Charles were the glory of our theatre. General Public applause, and the favour of taste for princes, were well bestowed on thesta e e - those bright stars of our literature who then appeared. In 1623, when Sir Henry Herbert became Master of the Revels, there were five companies of actors in London. This, indeed, is something less than at the accession of James, and the latest historian of the drama suggests the increase of Puritanical sentiments as a likely cause of this apparent decline. But we find little reason to believe that there * Shakspeare probably retired from the stage, as a performer, soon after 1603; his name appears among the actors of Sejanus in 1603, but not among those of Volpone in 1605. There is a tradi- tion that James I. wrote a letter thanking Shaks- peare for the compliment paid to him in Macbeth. Malone, it seems, believed this: Mr. Collier does not, and probably most people will be equally skep- tical. Collier, 1., 370. t Id., p 347. But the privilege of peers eo grant licenses to itinerant players, given by statute 14 Eliz , c. 5, and 39 Eli/,., c. 4, was taken away by 1 Jac. I., c. 7, so that they became liable to be treated as vagrants. Accordingly, there were no estab- lished theatres in any provincial city, and strollers, though dear to the lovers of the buskin, were al- ways obnoxious to grave magistrates. The license, however, granted to Burbage, Shaljspeare, Hem- mings, and others in 1603, authorizes them to act plays, not only at the usual house, but in any other part of the kingdom. Burbage was reckoned the best actor of his time, and excelled as Richard III 193 LITERATURE OF EUROPE was any decline in the public taste for the theatre ; and it may be as probable an hy- pothesis, that the excess of competition at the end of Elizabeth's reign had ren- dered some undertakings unprofitable ; the greater fishes, as usual in such cases, swallowing up the less. We learn from Howes, the continuator of Stow, that within sixty years before 1631, seventeen playhouses had been built in the metropo- lis. These were now larger and more convenient than before. They were divi- ded into public and private ; not that the former epithet was inapplicable to both ; but those styled public were not com- pletely roofed, nor well provided with seats, nor were the performances by can- dlelight ; they resembled more the rude booths we still see at fairs, or the con- structions in which interludes are repre- sented by day in Italy; while private theatres, such as that of the Black Friars, were built in nearly the present form. It seems to be the more probable opinion that moveable scenery was unknown on these theatres. " It is a fortunate circum- stance," Mr. Collier has observed, " for the poetry of our old plays that it was so ; the imagination of the auditor only was appealed to ; and we owe to the absence of painted canvass many of the finest descriptive passages in Shakspeare, his contemporaries and immediate followers. The introduction of scenery gives the date to the commencement of the decline of our dramatic poetry." In this remark, which seems as original as just, I entirely concur. Even in this age, the prodigality of our theatre in its peculiar boast, scene- painting, can hardly keep pace with the creative powers of Shakspeare ; it is well that he did not live when a manager was to estimate his descriptions by the cost of realizing them on canvass, or we might never have stood with Lear on the cliffs of Dover, or amid the palaces of Venice with Shylock and Antonio. The scene is perpetually changed in our old drama, precisely because it was not changed at all. A powerful argument might other- wise have been discovered in favour of the unity of place, that it is very cheap. 36. Charles, as we might expect, was Theatres not less inclined to this liberal closed by the pleasure than his predecessors. Parliament. lt wag to his Qwn CQst thaj . Prynne assaulted the stage in his immense volume, the Histrio-mastix. Even Milton, before the foul spirit had wholly entered into him, extolled the learned sock of 3on-n son, and the wild wood-notes of Shaks- peare. But these days were soon to pass away; the ears of Prynne were avenged ; by an order of the two houses of Parlia- ment, Sept. 2, 1642, the theatres were closed, as a becoming measure during the season of public calamity and impending civil war ; but, after some unsuccessful attempts to evade this prohibition, it was thought expedient, in the complete suc- cess of the party who had always abhor- red the drama, to put a stop to it altogeth- er ; and another ordinance of Jan. i?2, 1648, reciting the usual objections to all such entertainments, directed the theatres to be rendered unserviceable. We must refer the reader to the valuable work which has supplied the sketch of these pages for far- ther knowledge ;* it is more our province to follow the track of those who most dis- tinguish a period so fertile in dramatic genius ; and, first, that of the greatest of them all. 37. Those who originally undertook to marshal the plays of Shakspeare sh according to chronological or- *Tweiftii der, always attending less to Nl s ht - internal evidence than to the very fallible proofs of publication they could obtain, placed Twelfth Night last of all, in 1612 or 1613. It afterward rose a little higher in the list ; but Mr. Collier has finally proved that it was on the stage early in 1602, and was at that time chosen, proba- bly as rather a new piece, for representa- tion at one of the Inns of Court.t The general style resembles, in my judgment, that of Much Ado about Nothing, which is referred with probability to the year 1600. Twelfth Night, notwithstanding some very beautiful passages, and the humorous ab- surdity of Malvolio, has not the corusca- tions of wit and spirit of character that distinguish the excellent comedy it seems to have immediately followed ; nor is the plot nearly so well constructed. Viola would be more interesting if she had not indelicately, as well as unfairly towards Olivia, determined to win the duke's heart before she had seen him. The part of Sebastian has all that improbability which belongs to mistaken identity, without the comic effect for the sake of which that is forgiven in Plautus and in the Comedy of Errors. 38. The Merry Wives of Windsor is that * I have made no particular references to Mr. Collier's double work, The History of English Dra- matic Poetry and Annals of the Stage ; it will be necessary for the reader to make use of his index : but few books lately published contain so much valuable and original information, though not en- tirely arranged in the most convenient manner. He seems, nevertheless, to have obligations to Dodsley'a preface to his Collection of Old Plays, or rather, perhaps, to Reed's edition of it. t Vol. i., p. 327. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 199 Merry wives work of Shakspeare in which or Windsor, he has best displayed English manners ; for, though there is something of this in the historical plays, yet we rare- ly see in them such' a picture of actual life as comedy ought to represent. It may be difficult to say for what cause he has abstained from a source of gayety whence his prolific invention and keen eye for the diversities of character might have drawn so much. The Masters Knowell and Well-born, the young gentlemen who spend their money freejy and make love to rich widows, an insipid race of person- ages, it must be owned, recur for ever in the old plays of James's reign ; but Shaks- peare threw an ideality over this class of characters, the Eassanios, the Valentines, the Gratianos, and placed them in scenes which, neither by dress nor manners, re- called the prose of ordinary life.* In this play, however, the English gentleman, in age anfl youth, is brought upon the stage, slightly caricatured in Shallow, and far more so in Slender. The latter, indeed, is a perfect satire, and, I think, was so in- tended, on the brilliant youth of the prov- inces, such as we may believe it to have been before the introduction of newspa- pers and turnpike roads ; awkward and boobyish among civil people, but at home in rude sports, and proud of exploits at which the town would laugh, yet perhaps with more courage and good-nature than the laughers. No doubt can be raised that the family of Lucy is ridiculed in Shallow; but those who have had re- course to the old fable of the deer- steal- ing forget that Shakspeare never lost sight of his native county, and went, perhaps every summer, to Stratford. It is not impossible that some arrogance of the provincial squires towards a player, whom, though a gentleman by birth and the re- cent grant of arms, they might not reckon such, excited his malicious wit to those admirable delineations. 39. The Merry Wives of Windsor was first printed in 1602, but very materially altered in a subsequent edition. It is wholly comic ; so that Dodd, who pub- lished the Beauties of Shakspeare, con- fining himself to poetry, says it is the only play which afforded him nothing to ex- tract. This play does not excite a great deal of interest ; for Anne Page is but a * " No doubt," says Coleridge, " they (Beaumont find Fletcher) imitated the ease of gentlemanly conversation better than Shakspeare, who was un- able not to be too much associated to succeed in this." Table talk, ii., 396. I am not quite sure that I understand this expression ; but probably the meaning is not very different from what I have said. sample of a character not very uncom- mon, which, under a garb of placid and decorous mediocrity, is still capable of pursuing its own will. But in wit and hu- morous delineation no other goes beyond it. If Falstaff seems, as Johnson has in- timated, to have lost some of his powers of merriment, it is because he is humilia- ted to a point where even his invention and impudence cannot bear him off victo- rious. In the first acts he is still the same Jack Falstaff of the Boar's Head. Jon- son's earliest comedy, Every Man in his Humour, had appeared a few years before the Merry Wives of Windsor; they both turn on English life in the middle classes, and on the same passion of jealousy. If, then, we compare these two productions of our greatest comic dramatists, the vast superiority of Shakspeare will appear un- deniable. Kitely, indeed, has more ener- gy, more relief, more, perhaps, of what might appear to his temper matter for jealousy, than the wretched, narrow-mind- ed Ford ; he is more of a gentleman, and commands a certain degree of respect ; but dramatic justice is better dealt upon Ford by rendering him ridiculous, and he suits better the festive style of Shaks- peare's most amusing play. His light- hearted wife, on the other hand, is drawn with more spirit than Dame Kitely ; and the most ardent admirer of Jonson would not" oppose Master Stephen to Slender, or Bobadil to Falstaff. The other charac- ters are not parallel enough to admit of omparison ; but in their diversity (nor is Shakspeare, perhaps, in any one play more fertile) and their amusing peculiarity, as well as in the construction and arrange- ment of the story s the brilliancy of the wit, he perpetual gayety of the dialogue, we 3erceive at once to whom the laurel must given. Nor is this comparison insti- tuted to disparage Jonson, whom we have Braised, and shall have again to praise so lighly, but to show how much easier it was to vanquish the rest of Europe than to contend with Shakspeare. 40. Measure for Measure, commonly referred to the end of 1603, is Measure for perhaps, after Hamlet, Lear, Measure, and Macbeth, the play in which Shaks- aeare struggles, as it were, most with the ivermastering power of his own mind ; ;he depths and intricacies of being, which tie has searched and sounded with intense reflection, perplex and harass him ; his personages arrest their course of action to pour forth, in language tlpe most re- mote from common use, thoughts which few could grasp in the clearest expres- sion ; and thus he loses something of 200 LITERATURE OF EUROPE dramatic excellence in that of his con- templative philosophy. The Duke is de- signed as the representative of this philo- sophical character. He is stern and mel- ancholy by temperament, averse to the exterior shows of power, and secretly conscious of some unfitness for its practi- cal duties. The subject is not very hap- pily chosen, but artfully improved by Shakspeare. In most of the numerous stories of a similar nature which before or since his time have been related, the sacrifice of chastity is really made, and made in vain. There is, however, some- thing too coarse and disgusting in such a story ; and it would have deprived him of a splendid exhibition of character. The virtue of Isabella, inflexible and independ- ent of circumstance, has something very grand and elevated ; yet one is disposed to ask whether, if Claudio had been really executed, the spectator would not have gone away with no great affection for her ; and at least we now feel that her reproaches against her miserable brother, when he clings to life like a frail and guilty being, are too harsh. There is great skill in the invention of Mariana, and without this the story could not have had anything like a satisfactory termina- tion ; yet it is never explained how the Duke had become acquainted with this secret, and, being acquainted with it, how he had preserved his esteem and confi- dence in Angelo. His intention, as hint- ed towards the end, to marry Isabella, is a little too commonplace ; it is one of Shakspeare's hasty half-thoughts. The language of this comedy is very obscure, and the text seems to have been printed with great inaccuracy. I do not value the comic parts highly ; Lucio's impudent profligacy, the result rather of sensual de- basement than of natural ill disposition, is well represented : but Elbow is a very in- ferior repetition of Dogberry. In dramatic effect, Measure for Measure ranks high ; the two scenes between Isabella and An- gelo, that between her and Claudio, those where the Duke appears in disguise, and the catastrophe in the fifth act, are admi- rably written and very interesting, ex- cept so far as the spectator's knowledge of the two stratagems which have deceived Angelo may prevent him from participa- ting in the indignation at Isabella's imagi- nary wrong which her lamentations would , excite. Several of the circumstances and characters are borrowed from the old play of Whetstone, Promos and Cassandra ; 'but very little of the sentiments or lan- guage. What is good in Measure for Measure is Shakspeare's own. 41. If originality of invention did not so much stamp almost every play of Shakspeare, that to name one as the most original seems, a disparagement to others, we might say that this great pre- rogative of genius was exercised above all in Lear. It diverges more from the model of regular tragedy than Macbeth or Othello, and even more than Hamlet ; but the fable is better constructed than in the last of these, and it displays full as much of the almost superhuman inspiration of the poet as the other two. Lear himself is perhaps the most wonderful of dra- matic conceptions, ideal to satisfy the most romantic imagination, yet idealized from the reality of nature. In preparing us for the most intense sympathy with this old man, he first abases him to the ground ; it is not (Edipus, against whose respected age the gods themselves have conspired ; it is not Orestes, noble-minded and affectionate, whose crime has been vir- tue ; it is a headstrong, feeble, and selfish being, whom, in the first act of the trage- dy, nothing seems capable of redeeming in our eyes ; nothing but what follows, intense wo, unnatural wrong. Then comes on that splendid madness, not absurdly sudden, as in some tragedies, but in which the strings that keep his reasoning power together give way, one after the other, in the phrensy of rage and grief. Then it is that we find what in life may sometimes be seen, the intellectual ener- gies grow stronger in calamity, and espe- cially under wrong. An awful eloquence belongs to unmerited suffering. Thoughts burst out, more profound than Lear in his prosperous hour could ever have conceiv- ed ; inconsequent for such is the condi- tion of madness but in themselves frag- ments of coherent truth, the reason of an unreasonable mind. 41. Timon of Athens is cast, as it were, in the same mould as Lear ; it is Timon or the same essential character ; the Athens, same generosity, more from wanton os- tentation than love of others ; the same fierce rage under the smart of ingrati- tude ; the same rousing up, in that tem- pest, of powers that had slumbered un- suspected in some deep recess of the soul ; for, had Timon or Lear known that philosophy of human nature in their calm- er moments which fury brought forth, they would never have had such terrible occasion to display it. The thoughtless confidence of Lear in his children has something in it far more touching than the self-beggary of Timon ; though both one and the other have prototypes enough in re'al life. And as we give the old king FROM 1600 TO 1650. 201 more of our pity, so a more intense ab- horrence accompanies his daughters and the worse characters of that drama than we spare for the miserable sycophants of the Athenian. Their thanklessness is an- ticipated, and springs from the very na- ture of their calling ; it verges on the beaten road of comedy. Ifl this play there is neither a female personage, ex- cept two courtesans, who hardly speak, nor any prominent character (the honest steward is not such) redeemed by virtue enough to be estimable ; for the cynic Apemantus is but a cynic, and ill replaces the noble Kent of the other drama. The fable, if fable it can be called, is so extra- ordinarily deficient in action a fault of which Shakspeare is not guilty in any other instance that we may wonder a little how he should have seen in the sin- gle delineation of Timon a counterbal- ance for the manifold objections to this subject.* But there seems to have been a period of Shakspeare's life when his heart was ill at ease, and ill content with the world or his own conscience ; the memo- ry of hours misspent, the pang of affec- tion misplaced or unrequited, the experi- ence of man's worser nature, which in- tercourse with ill-chosen associates, by choice or circumstance, peculiarly teach- es ; these, as they sank down into the depths of his great mind, seem not only to have inspired into it the conception of Lear and Timon, but that of one primary character, the censurer of mankind. This type is first seen in the philosophic mel- ancholy of Jacques, gazing with an undi- minished serenity, and with a gayety of fancy, though not of manners, on the fol- lies of the world. It assumes a graver cast in the exiled Duke of the same play, and next one rather more severe in the Duke of Measure for Measure. In all these, however, it is merely contempla- tive philosophy. In Hamlet this is min- gled with the impulses of a perturbed heart under the pressure of extraordinary circumstances ; it shines no longer, as in the former characters, with a steady light, but plays in fitful coruscations amid feign- ed gayety and extravagance. In Lear it is the flash of sudden inspiration across the incongruous imagery of madness ; in Timon it is obscured by the exaggera- tions of misanthropy. These plays all belong to nearly the same period : As You Like It being usually referred to 1600, Hamlet, in its altered form, to about 1602, Timon to the same year, Measure for Measure to 1603, and Lear to 1604. In the later plays of Shakspeare, espe- cially in Macbeth and the Tempest, much VOL. II. C c of moral speculation will be found, but he has never returned to this type of charac- ter in the personages. Timon is less and less pleasing than the great majority of Shakspeare's plays, but it abounds with signs of his genius. Schlegel ob- serves, that of all his works, it is that which has most satire ; comic in representation of the parasites, indignant and Juvenalian in the bursts of Timon himself. 43. Pericles is generally reckoned to be in part, and only in part, the work of Shakspeare. From the poverty and bad management of the fable, the want of any effective or distinguishable charac- ter, for Marina is no more than the com- mon form of female virtue, such as all the dramatists of that age could draw, and a general feebleness of the tragedy as a whole, I should not believe the structure to have been Shakspeare's. But many passages are far more in his manner than in that of any contemporary writer with whom I am acquainted ; and the extrinsic testimony, though not conclusive, being of some value, I should not dissent from the judgment of Steevens and Malone, that it was, in no inconsiderable degree, re- paired and improved by his touch. Drake has placed it under the year 1590, as the earliest of Shakspeare's plays, for no better reason, apparently, than that, he thought it inferior to all the rest. But if, as most will agree, it were not quite his own, this reason will have less weight ; and the language seems to me rather that of his second or third manner than of his first. Pericles is not known to have existed before 1609. 44. The majority of readers, I believe, assign to Macbeth, which seems to have been written about 1606, the pre-eminence among the works of Shakspeare ; many, however, would rather name Othello, one of his latest, which is referred to 1611 ; and a few might prefer Lear to either. The great epic drama, as the first may be called, deserves, in my own judgment, the post it has attained, as being, in the lan- guage of Drake, " the greatest effort of our author's genius, the most sublime and im- pressive drama which the world has ever beheld." It will be observed that Shaks- peare had now turned his mind towards the tragic drama. No tragedy but Romeo and Juliet belongs to the sixteenth century ; ten, without counting Pericles, appeared in the first eleven years of the present. It is not my design to distinguish each of his plays separately ; and it will be evi- dent that I pass over some of the greatest. No writer, in fact, is so well known as Shakspeare, or has been so abundantly, and, on the whole, so ably criticised; I 202 LITERATURE OF EUROPE might have been warranted in saying even less than I have done. 45. Shakspeare was, as I believe, con- versant with the better class of His Roman ,.,,.. i i .-, tragedies. English literature which the Julius Caesar. re ig n o f Elizabeth afforded. Among other books, the translation by North of A myot's Plutarch seems to have fallen into his hands about 1607 V It was the source of three tragedies, founded on the lives of Brutus, Antony, and Coriolanus, the first bearing the name of Julius Caesar. In this the plot wants even that historical unity which the romantic drama requires ; the third and fourth acts are ill connected ; it is deficient in female characters, and in that combination which is generally ap- parent amid all the intricacies of his fable. But it abounds in fine scenes and fine pas- sages ; the spirit of Plutarch's Brutus is well seized, the predominance of Caesar himself is judiciously restrained, the char- acters have that individuality which Shaks- peare seldom misses ; nor is there, per- haps, in the whole range of ancient and modern eloquence, a speech more fully realizing the perfection that orators have striven to attain than that of Antony. 46. Antony and Cleopatra is of rather Antony and a different order ; it does not fur- cieopatra. nish, perhaps, so many striking beauties as the last, but is, at least, equally redolent of the genius of Shakspeare. Antony, indeed, was given him by history, and he has but imbodied in his own vivid colours the irregular mind of the triumvir, ambitious and daring against all enemies but himself. In Cleopatra he had less to guide him ; she is another incarnation of the same passions, more lawless and in- sensible to reason and honour, as they are found in women. This character being not one that can please, its strong and spirited delineation has not been sufficient- ly observed. It has, indeed, only a poet- ical originality ; (the type was in the cour- tesan of common life, but the resemblance is that of Michael Angelo's Sibyls to a muscular woman. In this tragedy, like Julius Caesar, as has been justly observed by Schlegel, the events that do not pass on the stage are scarcely made clear enough to one who is not previously ac- quainted with history, and some of the persons appear and vanish again without sufficient reason. He has, in fact, copied Plutarch too exactly. 47. This fault is by no means discern- ed in the third Roman tragedy Coftotamu. Qf shakspeare> Coriolanus. He luckily found an intrinsic historical unity which he could not have destroyed, and which his mangnificent delineation of the chief personage has thoroughly maintain- ed. Coriolanus himself has the grandeur of sculpture ; his proportions are colossal; nor would less than this transcendent superiority, by which he towers over his fellow-citizens, warrant, or seem for the moment to warrant, his haughtiness and their pusillanimity. The surprising judg- ment of Shakspeare is visible in this. A dramatist of the second class, a Corneille, a Schiller, or an Alfieri, would not have lost the occasion of representing the plebeian form of courage and patriotism. A tribune would have been made to utter noble speeches, and some critics would have extolled the balance and contrast of the antagonist principles. And this might have degenerated into the general saws of ethics and politics which philosophical tragedians love to pour forth. But Shaks- peare instinctively perceived that, to ren- der the arrogance of Coriolanus endurable to the spectator or dramatically probable he must abase the plebeians to a con- temptible populace. The sacrifice of his- toric truth is often necessary for the truth of poetry. The citizens of early Rome, " rusticorum mascula miliium proles" are indeed calumniated in his scenes, and might almost pass for burgesses of Strat- ford ; but the unity of emotion is not dis- sipated by contradictory energies. Cori- olanus is less rich in poetical style than the other two, but the comic parts are full of humour. In these three tragedies it ia manifest that Roman character, and, still more, Roman manners, are not ^exhibited with the precision of a scholar; yet there is something that distinguishes them from the rest, something of a grandiosity in the sentiments and language, which shows us that Shakspeare had not read that history without entering into its spirit. 48. Othello, or perhaps the Tempest, is reckoned by many the latest His retire , of Shakspeare's works. In the ment and zenith of his faculties, in posses- death - sion of fame disproportionate, indeed, to what, has since accrued to his memory, but beyond that of any contemporary, at the age of about forty-seven, he ceased to write, and settled himself, at a distance from all dramatic associations, in his own native town; a home of which he had never lost sight, nor even permanently quitted ; the birthplace of his children, and to which he brought what might then seem affluence in a middle station, with the hope, doubtless, of a secure decline into the yellow leaf of years. But he was cut off in 1616, not, probably, in the midst of any schemes for his own glory, but to the loss of those enjoyments which he FROM 1600 TO 1650. 203 had accustomed himself to value beyond it. His descendants, it is well known, became extinct in little more than half a century. 49. The name of Shakspeare is the Greatness of greatest in our literature it is his genius, the greatest in all literature. No man ever came near to him in the creative powers of the mind ; no man had ever such strength at once, and such va- riety of imagination. Coleridge has most felicitously applied to him a Greek epi- thet, given before to I know not whom, certainly none so deserving of it, pvpiovovf, he thousand-souled Shakspeare.* The number of characters in his plays is as- tonishingly great, without reckoning those who, although transient, have often their individuality ; all distinct, all types of hu- man life in well-defined differences. Yet he never takes an abstract quality to im- body it ; scarcely, perhaps, a definite con- dition of manners, as Jonson does ; nor did he draw much, as I conceive, from living models ; there is no manifest ap- pearance of personal caricature in his comedies, though, in some slight traits, of character, this may not improbably have been the case. Above all, neither he nor his contemporaries wrote for the stage in the worst, though most literal, and, of late years, the most usual sense ; making the servants and handmaids of dramatic in- vention to lord over it, and limiting the capacities of the poet's mind to those of the performers. If this poverty of the representative department of the drama had hung, like an incumbent fiend, on the creative power of Shakspeare. how would he have poured forth, with such inexhaust- ible prodigality, the vast diversity of char- acters that we find in some of his plays'? This it is in which he leaves far behind, not the dramatists alone, but all writers of fiction. Compare with him Homer, the tragedians of Greece,, the poets of Ita- ly, Plautus, Cervantes, Moliere, Addison, Le Sage, Fielding, Richardson, Scott, the romancers of the elder or later schools one man has far more than surpassed them all. Others may have been as sub- lime, others may have been more pathet- ic, others may have equalled him in grace and purity of language, and have shunned some of its faults ; but the philosophy of Shakspeare, his intimate searching out. of the human heart, whether in the gnomic form of sentence, or in the dramatic exhi- * Table-talk, vol. ii., p. 301. Coleridge had pre- viously spoken of Shakspeare's oceanic mind, which, if we take it in the sense of multitudinous unity, irovnwv KVftarwv nvTiptBiiov ytXaer/^i, will present the same idea as pvptovovsi i a beautiful image. bition of character, is a gift peculiarly his own. It is, if not entirely wanting, very little manifested, in comparison with him, by the English dramatists of his own and the subsequent period, whom we are about to approach. 50. These dramatists, as we shall speed ily perceive, are hardly less infe- iiisjudg rior to Shakspeare in judgment, mem. To this quality I particularly advert, be cause foreign writers, and sometimes OUT own, have imputed an extraordinary bar- barism and rudeness to his works. They belong, indeed, to an age sufficiently rude and barbarous in its entertainments, and are, of course, to be classed with what is called the romantic school, which has hardly yet shaken off that reproach. But no one who has perused the plays anterior to those of Shakspeare, or contemporary with them, or subsequent to them down to the closing of the theatres in the civil war, will pretend to deny that there is far less regularity, in regard to everything where regularity can be desired, in a large proportion of these (perhaps in all the tra- gedies) than in his own. We need only repeat the names of the Merchant of Ven- ice, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Othello, the Merry Wives of Windsor, Measure for Measure. The plots in these are excel- lently constructed, and in some with un- common artifice. But even where an analysis of the tory might excite criti- cism, there is generally a unity of interest which tones the whole. The Winter's Tale is not a model to follow, but we feel that the Winter's Tale is a single story ; it is even managed, as such, with consum- mate skill. It is another proof of Shaks- peare's judgment, that he has given action enough to his comedies without the bus- tling intricacy of the Spanish stage. If his plots have any little obscurity in some parts, it is from copying his novel or his- tory too minutely. 51. The idolatry of Shakspeare has been carried so far of late years, that Drake and perhaps greater authorities have been unwilling to acknowledge any faults in his plays. This, however, is an extravagance rather derogatory to the critic than hon- ourable to the poet. Besides the blem- ishes of construction in some of his plots, which are pardonable, but still blemishes, there are too many in his style. His con- ceits and quibbles often spoil the effect of his scenes, and take off from the passion he would excite. In the last act of Rich- ard II., the Duke of York is introduced demanding the punishment of his son Au- male for a conspiracy against the king, while the duchess implores mercy. Th- 204 LITERATURE OF EUROPE His obscurity. scene is ill conceived and worse executed throughout ; but one line is both atrocious and contemptible. The duchess having dwelt on the word pardon, and urged the king to let her hear it from his lips, York takes her up with this stupid quibble : Speak it in French, king ; say Pardonnez moi. It would not be difficult to find several other instances, though none, perhaps, quite so bad, of verbal equivocations, mis- placed and inconsistent with the person's, the author's, the reader's sentiment. 52. Few will defend these notorious faults. But is there not one, less frequently mentioned, yet of more continual recurrence the ex- treme obscurity of Shakspeare's diction ] His style is full of new words and new senses. It is easy to pass this over as obsoleteness ; but, though many expres- sions are obsolete and many provincial ; though the labour of his commentators has never been so profitably, as well as so diligently employed as in tracing this by the help of the meanest and most for- gotten books of the age, it is impossible to deny that innumerable lines in Shaks- peare were not more intelligible in his time than they are at present. Much of this may be forgiven, or, rather, is so in- corporated with the strength of his reason and fancy that we love it as the proper body of Shakspeare's soul. Still, can we justify the very numerous passages which yield to no interpretation ; knots which are never unloosed ; which conjecture does but cut ; or even those which, if they may at last be understood, keep the attention in perplexity till the first emotion has passed away ! And these occur not merely in places where the struggles of the speaker's mind may be well denoted by some obscurities of language, as in the soliloquies of Hamlet and Macbeth, but in dialogues between ordinary personages, and in the business of the play. We learn Shakspeare, in fact, as we learn a language, or as we read a difficult passage in Greek, with the eye glancing on the commentary ; and it is only after much study that we come to forget a part, it can be but a part, of the perplexities he has caused us. This was no doubt one reason that he was less read formerly, his style passing for obsolete, though in many parts, as we have just said, it was never much more intelligible than it is.* * " Shakspeare's style is so pestered with figu- rative expressions, that it is as affected as it is ob- scure. It is true that in his latter plays he had worn off somewhat of this rust." Dryden's Works (Malone), vol. h., part ii, p. 252. This is by no 53. It does not appear probable tha Shakspeare was ever placed be- nispopu low, or merely on a level with the laritv - other dramatic writers of this period. \ That his plays were not so frequently represented as those of Fletcher is little to the purpose ; they required a more ex- pensive decoration, a larger company of good performers, and, above all, they were less intelligible to a promiscuous audience. But it is certain that through out the seventeenth century, and even in the writings of Addison and his contem- poraries, we seldom or never meet with that complete recognition of his suprema- cy, that unhesitating preference of him to all the world, which has become the faith of the last and the present century. And it is remarkable that this apotheosis, so to speak, of Shakspeare was originally the work of what has been styled a frigid and tasteless generation, the age of George II. Much is certainly due to the stage it- self, when those appeared who could guide and control the public taste, and discover that in the poet himself which sluggish imaginations could not have reached. The enthusiasm for Shakspeare is nearly co- incident with that for Garrick ; it was kept up by his followers, and especially by that highly-gifted family which has but recently been withdrawn from our stage. 54. A mong the commentators on Shaks- peare, Warburton, always stri- critics on ving to display his own acute- Shakspeare. ness and scorn of others, deviates more than any one else from the meaning. Theobald 'Avas the first who did a little. Johnson explained much well, but there means the truth, but rather the reverse of it ; Dry- den knew not at all which were earlier or which later of Shakspeare's plays. t A certain William Cartwright, in commenda- tory verses addressed to Fletcher, has the assurance to say, Shakspeare to thee was dull, whose best wit lies 1' th' ladies' questions, and the fools' replies. But the suffrage of Jonson himself, of Milton, and of many more that might be quoted, tends to prove that his genius was esteemed beyond that of any other, though some might compare inferior writers to him in other qualifications of the dramatist. Even Dryden, who came in a worse period, and had no undue reverence for Shakspeare, admits that " he was the man who, of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily : when he describes any- thing, you more than see it ; you feel it too. Those who accuse him to haVe wanted learning give him the greater recommendation ; he was naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inward, and found her there." Dryden's Prose Works (Malorie's edition), vol. i., part ii., p. 99. FROM 1550 TO 1600. 205 is something magisterial in the manner wherein he dismisses each play, like a boy's exercise, that irritates the reader. His criticism is frequently judicious, but betrays no ardent admiration for Shaks- peare. Malone and Steevens were two laborious commentators on the meaning of words and phrases ; one dull, the other clever ; but the dulness was accompanied by candour and a love of truth, the clev- erness by a total absence of both. Nei- ther seems to have had a full discernment of Shakspeare's genius. The numerous critics of the last age who were not edit- ors have poured out much that is trite and insipid, much that is hyperbolical ar?d erroneous ; yet, collectively, they not only bear witness to the public taste for the poet, but taught men to judge and feel more accurately than they would have done for themselves. Hurd and Lord Kaimes, especially the former, may be reckoned among the best of this class ;* Mrs. Montagu, perhaps, in her celebrated Essay, not very far from the bottom of the list. In the present century, Cole- ridge and Schlegel, so nearly at the same time that the question of priority and even plagiarism has been mooted, gave a more philosophical, and, at the same time, a more intrinsically exact view of Shaks- peare than their predecessors. What has since been written has often been highly acute and aesthetic, but occasional- ly with an excess of refinement which substitutes the critic for the work. Mrs. Jameson's Essays on the Female Char- acters of Shakspeare are among the best. It was right that this province of illustra- tion should be reserved for a woman's hand. 55. Ben Jonson, so generally known Ben Jonson b >" that familiar description that some might hardly recognise him without it, was placed next to Shaks- peare by his own age. They were much acquainted, and belonged to the oldest, perhaps, and not the worst of clubs, form- ed by Sir Walter Raleigh about the be- ginning of the century, which met at the Mermaid in Friday-street. We may ea- sily believe the testimony of one of its * Hurd, in his notes on Horace's Art of Poetry, vol. i., p. 52, has some very good remarks on the diction of Shakspeare, suggested by the " calluia junctura" of the Roman poet, illustrated by many instances. These remarks both serve to bring out the skill of Shakspeare, and to explain the disputed passage in Horace. Hurd justly maintains the ob- vious construction of that passage, " Notum si cal- lida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum." That proposed by Lambinus and -Beanie, which begins with no7. The Elder Brother has been gen- erally reckoned among the best The Elder of Fletcher's comedies. It dis- Brother, plays in a new form an idea not very new in fiction, the power of love, on the first sight of a woman, to vivify a soul utterly ignorant of the passion. Charles, the Elder Brother, much unlike the Cymonof Dryden, is absorbed in study ; a mere scholar, without a thought beyond his books. His indifference, perhaps, and ig- norance about the world are rather exag- gerated, and border on stupidity ; but it was the custom of the dramatists in that age to produce effect in representation by very sudden developments, if not chan- ges, of character. The other persons are not ill-conceived ; the honest, testy Mira- mont, who admires learning without much more of it than enables him to sign his name ; the two selfish, worldly fathers of Charles and Angelina, believing them- selves shrewd, yet the easy dupes pf cox- comb manners from the court ; the spirit- ed Angelina ; the spoiled but not worth- less Eustace, show Fletcher's great talent in dramatic invention. In none of his mere comedies has he sustained so uni- formly elegant and pleasing a style of poe- try ; the language of Charles is naturally FROM 1600 TO 1650. 209 that of a refined scholar, but now and then, perhaps, we find old Miramont talk above himself. The underplot hits to the life the licentious endeavours of an old man to seduce his inferior ; but, as usual, it re- veals vice too broadly. This comedy is of very simple construction, so that Cib- ber was obliged to blend it with another, The Custom of the Country, in order to compose from the two his Lo\ Man, by no means the worst play of that age. The two plots, however, do not har- monize very well. C8. The Spanish Curate is, in all prob- The span- ability, taken from one of those ish curaie. comedies of intrigue, capa y cs- pada, which the fame of Lope dc Vega hud made popular in Europe. It is one of the best specimens of that manner; the plot is full of incident and interest, without being difficult of comprehension, nor, with fair allowance for the conventions of the stage and manners of the country, improb- able. The characters are in full relief without caricature. Fletcher, with an ar- tifice of which he is very fond, has made the fierce resentment of Violantc break out unexpectedly from the calmness she had shown in the first scenes ; bui. it is <(> well accounted for, that we see nothing unnatural in the development of passions ! for which there had been no previous call. Ascanio is again one of Fletcher's favour- ite delineations ; a kind of Bcllario in his modest, affectionate disposition ; one in whose prosperity the reader takes so much pleasure that he forgets it is, in a worldly sense, inconsistent with that of the honest-hearted Don Jamie. Tl ting husband, Don Henrique, cor well with the jealous Bartolus ; and both afford, by their fate, the sort of moral which is looked for in comedy. The underpiot of the lawyer and his wife, while it shows how licentious in principle as well as in- decent in language the stage ha:! become, is conducted with incomparable humour and amusement. Cougreve borrowed part of this in the Old Bachelor, without by any means equalling it. Upon the whole, as a comedy of this class, it de- serves to be placed in the highest rank. f>9. The Custom of the Country is much The custom or deformed by obscenity, espe- thc country, cially the first act. But it is full of nobleness in character and senti- ment, of interesting situations, of unceas- ing variety of action. Fletcher lias never shown what he so much delights in draw- ing, the contrast of virtuous dignity with ungoverned passion in woman, with more success than in '/enocia and Uippolyta. Of these three plays we may say, perhaps> VOL. II. D D that there is more poetry in the Elder Brother, more interest in the Custom of the Country, more wit and spirit in the Spanish Curate. 70. The Loyal Subject ought also to be placed in a high rank among the The i.oyni works of Beaumont and Fletcher, suiijoct. There is a play by Heywood, The Royal King and Loyal Subject, from which the general idea of several circumstances of this have been taken. That Hey wood's was the original, though the only edition of it is in 1(537, while the Loyal Subject was represented in 1615, cannot bear a doubt. The former is expressly mention- ed in the epilogue as an old play, belong- ing to a style gone out of date, and not to be judged with rigour. Hcywoud has, re, the praise of having conceived the character of Earl Marshal, upon which Fletcher somewhat improved in Archas ; a brave soldier of that, disinterested and devoted loyalty, which bears all ingrati- tude and outrage at the hands of an un- worthy and misguided sovereign. In the days of James there could be no more courtly moral. In each play the prince, after depriving his most deserving subject of honours and fortune, tries his fidelity by commanding him to send two daugh- ter; , whom he had educated in seclusion, to the court, with designs that the father may easily suspect. The loyalty, how- ever, of these honest soldiers, like the hospitality of Lot. submits to encounter this danger ; and the conduct of the young ladies soon proves that they might be trust- ed in the fiery trial. In the Loyal Sub- ject, Fletcher has beautifully, and with his light touch of pencil, sketched the two virtuous sisters ; one nigh-spirited, intrep- id, undi-siMii-ed, the other shrinking with n modesty, a tremulous dcwdrop in the- cup of a violet. But, unfortunate- ly, his original taint betrays itself, and the elder sister cannot display her scorn of licenliousne'-s without borrowing some of its language. If Shakspeare had put tin se 5 <>s into the mouth of Isa- bella, how differently we should have es- teemed her character! 71. We find in the Loyal Subject what is neither pleasing nor probable, the dis- guise of a youth as a girl. This was, of . not offensive to those who saw nothing else on the stage. Fletcher (lid not take this from Heywood. In the whole management of the story he is much superior ; the nobleness of Arc-has and his injuries are still more displayed than those of the Earl Marshal; and he has several new characters, especially Theodore, the impetuous son of the Loyal Subject, who 210 does not brook the insults of a prince as submissively as his father, which fill the play with variety and spirit. The language is in some places obscure and probably corrupt, but abounding with that kind of poetry which belongs to Fletcher. 1-2." Beggar's Bush is an excellent com- lieggar's edy ; the serious parts interesting, Jiusti. the comic diverting. Every char- acter supports itself well ; if some parts of the plot have been suggested by As You Like It, they are managed so as to be original in spirit. Few of Fletcher's plays furnish more proofs of his characteristic qualities. It might be represented with no great curtailment. 73. The Scornful Lady is one of those The Scorn- comedies which exhibit English fui Lady, domestic life, and have, therefore, a value independent of their dramatic merit. It does not equal Beggar's Bush, but is full of effective scenes, which, when less regard was paid to decency, must have rendered it a popular play. Fletcher, in fact, is much superior to Shakspeare in his knowledge of the stage, as he falls be- low him in that of human nature. His fertile invention was turned to the man- agement of his plot (always with a view to representation), the rapid succession of incidents, the surprises and embarrass- ments which keep the spectator's atten- tion alive. His characters are but vehicles to the story ; they are distinguished, for rthe most part, by little more than the slight peculiarities of manner, which are easily caught by the audience ; and we do not often meet, especially in his comedies, with the elaborate delineations of Jonson, cr the marked idiosyncracies of Shaks- peare. Of these his great predecessors, one formed a deliberate conception of a character, whether taken from general nature or from manners, and drew his figure, as it were, in his mind before he transferred it to the canvass ; with the other, the idea sprang out of the depths of his soul, and, though suggested by the story he had chosen, became so much the favourite of his genius as he wrote, that in its development, he sometimes grew negligent of his plot. 74. No tragedy of Fletcher would de- serve higher praise than Valen- Valentmian. . ?_ iT j timan, if he had not. by an in- conceivable want of taste and judgment, descended from beauty and dignity to the most preposterous absurdities. The ma- tron purity of the injured Lucina, the rav- ages of unrestrained self-indulgence on a mind not wholly without glimpses of vir- tue in Valentinian, the vileness of his courtiers, the spirited contrast of uncon- querable loyalty in Aetius, with the natural indignation at wrong in Maximus, are brought before our eyes in some of Fletch- er's best poetry, though in a text that seems even more corrupt than usual. But after the admirable scene in the third act, where Lucina (the Lucretia of this story) reveals her injury, perhaps almost the only scene in this dramatist, if we ex- cept the Maid's Tragedy, that can move us to tears, her husband Maximus, who even here begins to forfeit our sympathy by his ready consent, in the Spanish style of perverted honour, to her suicide, be- comes a treacherous and ambitious villain ; the loyalty of Aetius turns to downright folly, and the rest of the play is but such a series of murders as Marston or the author of Andronicus might have devised. If Fletcher meant, which he very probably did, to inculcate as a moral that the worst of tyrants are to be obeyed with unflinch- ing submission, he may have gained ap- plause at court at the expense of his reputation with posterity. 75. The Two Noble Kinsmen is a play that has been honoured by a The TWO NO- tradition of Sinkspeare's con- b!e Kinsmen. cern in it. The evidence as to this is the title-page of the first edition; which, though it may seem much at first sight, is next to nothing in our old drama, full of misnomers of this kind. The editors of Beaumont and Fletcher have insisted upon what they take for marks of Shakspeare's style ; and Schlegel, after " seeing no rea- son for doubting so probable an opinion," detects the spirit of Shakspeare in a certain ideal purity which distinguishes this from other plays of Fletcher, and in the con- scientious fidelity with which it follows the Knight's Tale in Chaucer. The Two Noble Kinsmen has much of that elevated sense of honour, friendship, fidelity, and love which belongs, I think, more charac- teristically to Fletcher, who had drunk at the fountain of Castilian romance, than to one in whose vast mind this conventional morality of particular classes was subor- dinated to the universal nature of man. In this sense Fletcher is always, in his tragic compositions, a very ideal poet. The subject itself is fitter for him than for Shakspeare. In the language and conduct of this play, with great deference to better and more attentive critics, I see imitations of Shakspeare rather than such resem- blances as denote his powerful stamp. The madness of the jailer's daughter, where some have imagined they saw the master-hand, is doubtless suggested by that of Ophelia, but with an inferiority of taste and feeling which it seems impossi- _,, . 1 ble not to recognise. The painful and de- grading symptom of female insanity, which Shakspeare has touched vyith his gentle hand, is dwelt upon by Fletcher with all his innate impurity. Can any one believe that the former would have written the last scene in which the jailer's daughter ap- pears on the stage ? Schlegel has too fine taste to believe that this character came from Shakspeare, and it is given up by the latest assertor of his claim to a par- ticipation in the play.* 76. The Faithful Shepherdess, deserved- The Faithful ly among the most celebrated shepherJess. productions of Fletcher, stands alone in its class, and admits of no com- parison with any other play. It is a pas- toral drama, in imitation of the Pastor Fido, at that time very popular in Eng- land. The Faithful Shepherdess, howev- er, to the great indignation of the poets, did not succeed on its first representation. There is nothing in this surprising ; the tone of pastoral is too far removed from the possibilities of life for a stage which appealed, like ours, to the boisterous sym- pathies of a general audience. It is a play very characteristic of Fletcher, be- ing a mixture of 'tenderness, purity, inde- cency, and absurdity. There is some jus- tice in Schlegers remark, that it is an im- modest eulogy on modesty. But this crit- ic, who does not seem to appreciate the beauty of Fletcher's poetry, should hardly have mentioned Guarini as a model whom he might have followed. It was by copy- ing the Corisca of the Pastor Fido that Fletcher introduced the character of the vicious shepherdess Cloe ; though, ac- cording to his times, and, we must own, to his disposition, he has greatly aggrava- ted the faults to which just exception has been taken in his original. 77. It is impossible to withhold our * A " Letter on Shaksprare's Authorship of the drama entitled the Two Noble Kinsmen," Edin- burgh, 1833, notwithstanding this title, does not deny a considerable participation to Fletcher. He lays no great stress on the external evidence. But, in arguing from the similarity of style in many pas- sages to that of Shakspeare, the author, with whose name I am unacquainted, shows so much taste and so competent a knowledge of the two dramatists, that I should perhaps scruple to set up my own doubts in opposition. His chief proofs are drawn from the force and condensation of language in par- ticular passages, which, doubtless, is one of the great distinctions between the two. But we might wish to have seen this displayed in longer extracts than such as the author of this Letter has generally given us. It is difficult to say of a man like Fletch er that he could not have written single lines ii the spirit of his predecessor. A few instances however, of longer passages will be found ; and believe that it is a subject upon which there wil long be a difference of opinion. praise from the poetical beauties of this pastoral drama. Every one knows that it contains the germe of Comus ; the be- nevolent Satyr, whose last proposition to " stray in the middle air, and stay the sailing rack, or nimbly take hold of the moon," is riot much in the character of these sylvans, has been judiciously met- amorphosed by Milton to an attendant spirit ; and a more austere, as well as more uniform language has been given to the speakers. .But Milton has borrowed largely from the imagination of his prede- cessor ; and, by quoting the lyric parts of the Faithful Shepherdess, it would be easy to deceive any one not accurately familiar with the songs of Comus. They abound with that rapid succession of ideal scen- ery, that darting of the poet's fancy from earth to heaven, those picturesque ind novel metaphors, which distinguish nost of the poetry of this age, and which re ultimately, perhaps, in great measure eferrible to Shakspeare. 78. Kule a Wife and Have a Wife is imong the superior comedies of R Ule a W jf e tS class. That it has a protO- and Have a ype on the Spanish theatre VVlft; ' nust appear likely ; but I should be sur- prised if the variety and spirit of charac- er, the vivacity of humour, be not chiefly lue to our own authors. Every person- age in this comedy is drawn with a vigor- .- ous pencil, so that it requires a good company to be well represented. It is, ndeed, a mere picture of roguery ; for ;ven Leon, the only character for whom we can feel any sort of interest, has gain- d his ends by stratagem ; but his gallant pirit redeems this in our indulgent views of dramatic morality, and we are justly pleased with the discomfiture of fraud and effrontery in Estifania and Margarita. 79. The Knight of the 'Burning Pestle s very diverting, and more sue- some other cessful, perhaps, than any pre- i' la 3's. vious attempt to introduce a drama within a drama. I should hardly except the In- duction to the Taming of a Shrew. The burlesque, though very ludicrous, does not transgress all bounds of probability. The Wild-goose Chase, The Chances, The Hu- morous Lieutenant, Women Pleased, Wit without Money, Monsieur Thomas, and several other "comedies, deserve to be praised for the usual excellences of Fletch- er, his gayety, his invention, his ever-va- rying rapidity of dialogue and incident. None are without his defects ; and we may add, what is not, in fairness, to be called a defect of his, since it applies, perhaps, to every dramatic writer except Shakspeare and Moliere, that being cast, v LITERATURE OF EUROPE as it were, in a common mould, we find both a monotony in reading several of these plays, and a difficulty of distinguishing them in remembrance. 80. The later writers, those especially after the Restoration, did not fail to ap- propriate many of the inventions of Fletcher. He and his colleague are the proper founders of our comedy of in- trigue, which prevailed through the sev- enteenth century the comedy of Wycher- ley, Drydcn, Behn, and Shadwell. Their manner, if not their actual plots, may still be observed in many pieces that are pro- duced on our stage. But few of those im- itators came up to the sprightliness of their model. It is to be regretted that it is rarely practicable to adapt any one of his comedies to representation without such changes as destroy their original raciness, and dilute the geniality of their wit. 81. There has not been much curiosity Origin or to investigate the sources of his Flea-tier's humorous plays. A few are his- piays. torical ; but it seems highly prob- able that the Spanish stage of Lope de Vega and his contemporaries often fur- nished the subject, and perhaps many of the scenes, to his comedies. These pos- sess all the characteristics ascribed to the comedies of intrigue so popular in that country. The scene, too, is more com- monly laid in Spain, and the costume of Spanish manners and sentiments more closely observed, than we should expect "rom the invention of Englishmen. It rould be worth the leisure of some lover of theatrical literature to search the col- lection of Lope de Vega's works, and, if possible, the other Spanish writers at the beginning of the century, in order to trace the footsteps of our two dramatists. Sometimes they may have had recourse to novels. The Little French Lawyer seems to indicate such an origin. No- thing had as yet been produced, I believe, on the French stage from which it could have been derived ; but the story and most of the characters are manifestly of French derivation. The comic humour of La Writ in this play we may ascribe to the invention of Fletcher himself.* 82. It is, however, not improbable that * Dryden reckons this play, with the Spanish Curate, the Chances, and Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, among those which he supposes to be drawn from Spanish novels Essay on Dramatic Poetry, p. 204. By novels we should probably understand plays ; for those which he mentions are little in the style of novels. But the Little French Lawyer has all the appearance of coming from a French novel ; the scene lies in France, and I see nothing Spanish about it. Dryden was seldom well inform- ed about the early stage. the entire plot was sometimes Defects of original. Fertile as their inven- their plots. lion was, to an extraordinary degree, in furnishing the incidents of their rapid and animated comedies, we may believe the fable itself to have sometimes sprung from no other source. It seems, indeed, now and then, as if the authors had' gone forward w r ith no very clear determination of their catastrophe ; there is a want of unity in the conception, a want of consist- ency in the characters, which appear sometimes rather intended to surprise by incongruity than framed upon a definite model. That of Ruy Diaz, in the Island Princess, of whom it is hard to say whether he is a brave man or a coward, or alter- nately one and the other, is an instance to which many more might easily be added. In the Bloody Brother, Rollo sends to execution one of his counsellors, whose daughter Edith vainly interferes in a scene of great pathos and effect. In the progress of the drama she arms herself to take away the tyrant's life ; the whole of her character has been consistent and ener- getic ; when Fletcher, to the reader's as- tonishment, thinks fit to imitate the scene between Richard and Lady Anne ; and the ignominious fickleness of that lady, whom Shakspeare,with wonderful skill, but in a manner not quite pleasing, sacrifices to the better display of the cunning crook- back, is here transferred to the heroine of the play, and the very character upon whom its interest ought to depend. Edith is on the point of giving up her pin-pose, when, some others in the conspiracy com- ing in, she recovers herself enough to ex- hort them to strike the blow.* 83. The sentiments and style of Fletch- er, where not concealed by ob- . scurity or corruption of the text, me f^ a InT are very dramatic. We cannot style dra- deny that the depths of Shaks- niatic - peare's mind were often unfathomable by an audience ; the bow was drawn by a matchless hand, but the shaft went out of sight. All might listen to Fletcher's pleas- ing, though not profound or vigorous lan- guage ; his thoughts are noble, and tinged with the ideality of romance; his metaphors vivid, though sometimes too forced ; he possesses the idiom of English without * Rotrou, in his Wenceslas, as we have already observed, has done something of the same kind ; it may have been meant as an ungenerous and calum nious attack on the constancy of the female sex. If lions were painters, the old fable snys, they would exhibit a very different view of their conten- tions with men. But lionesses are become very good painters ; and it is but through their clemency that we are not delineated in such a style as would retaliate the injuries of these tragedians. FROM 1600 TO 1C50. 213 much pedantry, though in many passages he strains it beyond common use ; his versification, though studiously irregular, is often rhythmical and sweet. Yet we are seldom arrested by striking beauties ; good lines occur in every page, fine ones but rarely; we lay down the volume with a sense of admiration of what we have read, but little of it remains distinctly in the memory. Fletcher is not much quoted, and has not even afforded copious mate- rials to those who cull the beauties of an- cient lore. 84. In variety of character there can be Their char no comparison between Fletcher aeters. an d Shakspeare. A few types return upon us in the former ; an old gen- eral, proud of his wars, faithful and pas- sionate ; a voluptuous and arbitrary king (for his principles of obedience do not seem to have inspired him with much confidence in royal virtues), a supple cour- tier, a high-spirited youth, or one more gentle in manners, but not less stout in ac- tion; a lady, fierce, and not always very modest in her chastity, repelling the soli- citations of licentiousness, another impu- dently vicious, form the usual pictures for his canvass. Add to these, for the lighter comedy, an amorous old man a gay spend- thrift, and a few more of the staple char- acters of the stage, and we have the mate- rials of Fletcher's dramatic world. It must be remembered that we compare him only with Shakspeare, and that, as few dramatists have been more copious than Fletcher, few have been so much called upon for inventions, in which the custom of the theatre has not exacted much originality. The great fertility of his mind in new combinations of circumstance gives as much appearance of novelty to the per- sonages themselves as an unreflecting au- dience requires. In works of fiction, even those which are read in the closet, this variation of the mere dress of a character is generally found sufficient for the public. 85. The tragedies of Beaumont and Their trage- Fletcher, by which our ancestors dies ' seem to have meant only plays wherein any of the personages, or, at least, any whom the spectator would wish to keep alive, dies on the stage, are not very numerous, but in them we have as copious an effusion of blood as any contemporary dramas supply. The conclusion, indeed, of these, and of the tragi-comedies, which form a larger class, is generally misman- aged. A propensity to take the audience by surprise leads often to an unnatural and unsatisfactory catastrophe ; it seems their aim to disappoint common expecta- tion, to baffle reasonable conjecture, to mock natural sympathy. This is frequent- ly the practice of our modern novelists, who find no better resource in the poverty of their invention to gratify the jaded palate of the world. 86. The comic talents of these authors far exceeded their skill in trage- jnferjor , dy. In comedy they founded a iiieir come- new school, at least in England, dies - the vestiges of which are still to be traced in our theatre. Their plays are at once distinguishable from those 'of their con- temporaries by the regard to dramatic effect which influenced the writers' imagi- nation. Though not personally connected with the stage, they had its picture ever before their eyes. Hence their incidents are numerous and striking, their characters sometimes slightly sketched ; not drawn, like those of .Tonson, from a preconceived design, but preserving that degree of indi- vidual distinctness which a common audi- ence requires, and often highly humorous without extravagance ; their language brill- iant with wit ; their measure, though they do not make great use of prose, very lax and rapid, running frequently to lines of thirteen and fourteen syllables. Few of their comedies are without a mixture of grave sentiments or elevated characters ; and, though there is much to condemn in their indecency and even licentiousness of principle, they never descend to the coarse buffoonery not unfrequent in their, age. Never were dramatic poets more thoroughly gentlemen, according to the standard of their times ; and, when we consider the court of James I., we may say that they were above that standard.* 87. The best of Fletcher's characters are female ; he wanted that Their female large sweep of reflection and characters, experience which is required for the great- er diversity of the other sex. None of * " Their plots were generally more regular than Shakspeare's, especially those which were made before Beaumont's death; and they under- stood and imitated thp conversation of gentlemen much better, whose wild debaucheries and quick- ness of wit in repartees no poet before them could paint as they have done. Humour which Ben Jon- son derived from particular persons, they made it not their business to describe ; they represented all the pass-ions very lively, but, above all, love. I am apt to believe the English language in them arrived to its highest perfection ; what words have since been taken in are rather superfluous than orna- mental. Their plays are now the most pleasant and frequent entertainments of the slage, two of theirs being acted through the year for one of Shakspeare's or Jonson's ; the reason is, because there is a certain gayety in their comedies, and pathos in their more serious plays, which suits generally with all men's humours. Shakspeare's language is likewise a little obsolete, and Jonson's wit falls short of theirs." Dryden, p. 101. 214 LITERATURE OF EUROPE his womer. delight us like Imogen and Desdemona; but he has many Imogens and Desdewonas of a fainter type. Spa- celia, Zenocia, Celia, Aspasia, Evantho, Lucina, Ordella, Oriana, present the pic- ture that cannot be greatly varied without departing from its essence, but which can never be repeated too often to please us, of faithful, tender, self-denying female love, superior to everything but virtue. Nor is he less successful, generally, in the contrast of minds stained by guilty passion, though in this he sometimes ex- aggerates the outline till it borders on caricature. But it is in vain to seek in Fletcher the strong conceptions of Shaks- peare, the Shylocks, the Lears, the Othel- los. Schlegel has well said, that " scarce anything has been wanting to give a place to Beaumont and Fletcher among the great dramatists of Europe but want of seriousness and depth, and the regulating judgment which prescribes the due limits in every part of composition/' It was for want of the former qualities that they conceive nothing in tragedy very forcibly ; for want of the latter that they spoil their first conception by extravagance and in- congruity.* 88. The reputation of Beaumont and Fletcher was at its height, and most of their plays had been given to the stage, when a worthy inheritor of their mantle appeared in Philip Massinger. Of his ex- tant dramas the Virgin Martyr, published in 1622, seems to be the earliest ; but we have reason to believe that several are lost ; and even this tragedy may have been represented some years before. The far greater part of his remaining pieces followed within ten years ; the Bashful Lover, which is the latest now known, f * " Shakspeare," says Dryden, " writ better be- tween man and man, Fletcher betwixt man and woman ; consequently, the one described friendship better, the other love ; yet Shakspeare taught Fletcher to write love, and Juliet and Desdemona are originals. It is true the scholar had the softer soul, but the master had the kinder. . . Shakspeare had a universal mind, which comprehended all char- acters and passions ; Fletcher a more confined and limited ; for, though he treated love in perfection, yet honour, ambition, revenge, and, generally, all the stronger passions, he either touched not, or not masterly. To conclude all, he was a limb of Shakspeare." P. 301. This comparison is rather generally than strictly just, as is often the case with the criticisms of Dryden. That Fletcher wrote better than Shakspeare " between man and woman," or in displaying love, will be granted whpn he shall be shown to have excelled Ferdi- nand and Miranda, or Posthiirnus and [mogen. And, on the other hand, it is unjust to deny him credit for having sometimes touched the stronger emotions, especially honour and ambition, with great skill, though much inferior to that of Shaks- peare. was published in 1636. Massinger was, a gentleman, but in the service, according to the language of those times, of the Pembroke family ; his education was at the University ; his acquaintance botli with books and with the manners of the court is familiar ; his style and sentiments are altogether those of a man polished by in- tercourse of good society. 89. Neither in his own age nor in mod- ern times does Massinger seem to have been put on a level with Fletcher or Jon- son. Several of his plays, as has been just observed, are said to have perished in manuscript ; few were represented after the^lestoration ; and it is only in conse- quence of his having met with more than one editor, who has published his collect- ed works in a convenient form, that he is become tolerably familiar to the general reader. He is, however, far more intelli- gible than Fletcher ; his text has not given so much embarrassment from corruption, and his general style is as perspicuous as we ever find it in the dramatic poets of that age. The obscure passages in Mas- singer, after the care that Gifford has ta- ken, are by no means frequent. 90. Five of his sixteen plays are trage- dies, that is, are concluded in G ene rai na- death ; of the rest, no one be- iure of his longs to the class of mere com- dramas - edy, but, by the depth of the interest, the danger of the virtuous, or the atrocity of the vicious characters, as well as the ele- vation of the general style, must be rank- ed with the serious drama, or, as it was commonly termed, tragi-comedy. A shade of melancholy tinges the writings of Mas- singer ; but he sacrifices less than his contemporaries to the public taste for su- perfluous bloodshed on the stage. In sev- eral of his plays, such as the Picture, or the Renegado, where it would have been easy to determine the catastrophe towards tragedy, he has preferred to break the clouds with the radiance of a setting sun. He consulted in this his own genius ; not eminently pathetic, nor energetic enough to display the utmost intensity of emo- tion, but abounding in sweetness and dig- nity, apt to delineate the loveliness of vir- tue, and to delight in its recompense after trial. It has been surmised that the reli- gion of Massinger was that of the Church of Rome ; a conjecture not improbable, though, considering the ascetic and imagi- native piety which then prevailed in that of England, we need not absolutely go so far for his turn of thought in the Virgin Martyr or the Renegado. 91. The most striking excellence of this poet is his conception of character ; and FROM 1600 TO 1C50. 215 His deiinea- m this I must incline to place tions of char- him above Fletcher, and, if I may venture to say it, even above Jonson. He is free from the hard outline of the one, and the negligent looseness of the other. He has, indeed, no great variety, and sometimes repeats, with such bare modifications as the story demands, the type of his first design. Thus the extravagance of conjugal affec- tion is portrayed, feeble in Theodosius, frantic in Domitian, selfish in Sforza, sus- picious in Mathias ; and the same im- pulses of doting love return upon us in the guilty eulogies of Mallefort on his daugh- ter. The vindictive hypocrisy of Montre- ville in the Unnatural Combat has nearly its counterpart in that of Francesco in the Duke of .Milan, and is again displayed with more striking success in Luke. This last villain, indeed, and that original, mas- terly, inimitable conception, Sir Giles Overreach, are sufficient to establish the rank of Massinger in this great province of dramatic art. But his own disposition led him more willingly to pictures of mor- al beauty. A peculiar refinement, a mix- ture of gentleness and benignity with no- ble daring, belong to some of his favour- ite characters ; to Pisander in the Bond- man, to Antonio in a Very Woman, to Charolois in the Fatal Dowry. It may be readily supposed that his female char- acters are not wanting in these graces. It seems to me that he has more variety in his women than in the other sex, and that they are less mannered than the hero- ines of Fletcher. A slight degree of error or passion in Sophia, Eudocia, Marcelia, without weakening our sympathy, serves both to prevent the monotony of perpetual rectitude, so often insipid in fiction, and to bring forward the development of the story. 92. The subjects chosen by Massinger are sometimes historical, but His subjects. , , ' , others seem to have been taken from French or Italian novels, and those so obscure, that hjs editor, Gifford, a man of much reading and industry, lias seldom traced them. This, indeed, was a usual practice with our ancient dramatists. Their works have, consequently, a ro- mantic character, presenting as little of the regular Plaulino comedy as of the Greek forms of tragedy. They are mere- ly novels in action, following, probably, their models with no great variance, ex- cept the lower and lighter episodes, which it was always more or less necessary to combine with the story. It is from this choice of subjects, perhaps, as much as from the peculiar temper of the poets, that love is the predominant affection pf the mind which they display ; not cold and conventional, as we commonly find it on the French stage, but sometimes, as the novelists of the South were prone to delineate its emotions, fiery, irresistible, and almost resembling the fatalism of an- cient tragedy, sometimes a subdued cap- tive at the chariot-wheels of honour or religion. The range of human passion is, consequently, far less extensive than in Shakspeare ; but the variety of cir- cumstance, and the modifications of the paramount affection itself, compensated for this deficiency. 93. Next to the grace and dignity of sentiment in Massinger, we must Heautyof praise those qualities in his style. llis s 'y^- Every modern critic has been struck by the peculiar beauty of his language. In his harmonious swell of numbers, in his pure and genuine idiom, which a text, by good fortune and the diligence of its last editor, far less corrupt than that of Fletch- er, enables us to enjoy, we find an un- ceasing charm. The poetical talents of Massinger were very considerable ; his taste superior to that of his contempora- ries ; the colouring of his imagery is rarely overcharged ; a certain redundan- cy, as some may account it, gives fulness, or what the painters call impasto, to his style ; and, if it might not always conduce to effect on the stage, is, on the whole, suitable to the character of his composi- tion. 94. The comic powers of this w-ritcr are not on a level with the serious ; i nfer j ori ,y with some degree of humorous of ins comic conception he is too apt to aim r wers - at exciting ridicule by caricature, and his dialogue wants altogether the sparkling: wit of Shakspeare and Fletcher. Wheth- er from a consciousness of this defect, or from an unhappy compliance with the viciousncss of the age, no writer is more contaminated by gross indecency. It be- longs, indeed, chiefly, not perhaps exclu- sively, to the characters lie would render odious ; but upon them he has bestowed this flower of our early theatre with no sparing hand. Few, it must be said, of his plays are incapable of representation merely on this account, and the offence is therefore more incurable in Fletcher. 95. Among the tragedies of Massinger I should incline to prefer the ? meofiiis Duke of Milan. The plot bor- trashes par- rows enough from history to tl< give it dignity, and to counterbalance in some measure the predominance of the passion of love which the invented parts of the drama exhibit. The charac- * 216 LITERATURE OF EUROPE I ters of Sforza, Marcelia, and Francesco are in Massinger's best manner; the story is skilfully and not improbably developed ; the pathos is deeper than we generally find in his writings ; the eloquence of lan- guage, especially in the celebrated speech of Sforza before the emperor, has never been surpassed by him. Many, however, place the Fatal Dowry still higher. This tragedy furnished Rowe with the story of the Fair Penitent. The superiority of the original, except in suitableness for repre- sentation, has long been acknowledged. In the Unnatural Combat, probably among the earliest of Massinger's works, we find a greater energy, a bolder strain of figu- rative poetry, more command of terror, and perhaps of pity, than in any other of his dramas. But the dark shadows of crime and misery which overspread, this tragedy belong to rather an earlier period of the English stage than that of Massin- ger, and were not congenial to his temper. In the Virgin Martyr he has followed the Spanish model of religious Autos, with many graces of language and a beautiful display of Christian heroism in Dorothea ; but the tragedy is in many respects un- pleasing. 96. The Picture, The Bondman, and A And of tils Very Woman may, perhaps, be other plays, reckoned the best among the tragi-comedics of Massinger. But the general merits as well as defects of this writer are p-erceptible in all ; and the dif- ference between these and the rest is not such as to be apparent to every reader. Two others are distinguishable as more English than the rest; the scene lies at home, and in the age ; and to these the common voice has assigned a superiority. They are A New Way to Pay Old Debts, and the City Madam. A character drawn, as it appears, from reality, and, though darkly wicked, not beyond the province of the higher comedy, Sir Giles Overreach, gives the former drama a striking origi- nality and an impressive vigour. It retains alone, among the productions of Massin- ger, a place on the stage. Gifford inclines to prefer the City Madam ; which, no doubt, by the masterly delineation of Luke, a villain of a different order from Over- reach, and a larger portion of comic hu- mour and satire than is usual with this writer, may dispute the palm. It seems to me that there is more violent improba- bility in the conduct of the plot than in A New Way to Pay Old Debts. 97. Massinger, as a tragic writer, ap- Ford. P ears to me second only to Shaks- peare ; in the higher comedy I can hardly think him inferior to Jonson. In I wit and sprightly dialogue, as well as in ! knowledge and theatrical effect, he falls very much below Fletcher. These, how- ever, are the great names of the English stage. At a considerable distance below Massinger we may place his contempora- ry John Ford. In the choice of tragic subjects from obscure fictions, which have to us the charm of entire novelty, they re- semble each other ; but in the conduct of their fable, in the delineation of their char- acters, each of these poets has his distin- guishing excellences. " I know," says Gifford, " few things more difficult to ac- count for than the deep and lasting im- pression made by the more tragic portions of Ford's poetry." He succeeds, howev- er, pretty well in accounting for it; 'the situations are awfully interesting, the dis- tress intense, the thoughts and language becoming the expression of deep sorrow. Ford, with none of the moral beauty and elevation of Massinger, has, in a much higher degree, the power over tears ; we sympathize even with his vicious charac- ters ; with Giovanni, and Annabella, and Bianca. Love, and love in guilt or sor- row, is almost exclusively the emotion he portrays ; no heroic passion, no sober dignity, will be found in his tragedies. But he conducts his stories well and with- out confusion ; his scenes are often highly wrought and effective ; his characters, with no striking novelty, are well support- ed ; he is seldom extravagant or regard- less of probability. The Broken Heart has generally been reckoned his finest tragedy ; and, if the last act had been bet- ter prepared by bringing the love of Ca- lantha for Ithocles more fully before the reader in the earlier part of the play, there would be very few passages of deeper pa- thos in our dramatic literature. " The style of Ford." it is said by Gifford, "is altogether original and his own. Without the majestic inarch which distinguishes the poetry of Massinger, and with little or none of that light and playful humour which characterizes the dialogue of Fletch- er, or even of Shirley, he is yet elegant, and easy, and harmonious ; and, though rarely sublime, yet sufficiently elevated for the most pathetic tones of that pas- sion on whose romantic energies he chief- ly delighted to dwell." Yet he censures afterward Ford's affectation of uncouth phrases and perplexity of language. Of comic ability this writer does not display one particle. Nothing can be meaner than those portions of his dramas which, in compliance with the prescribed rules of that age, he devotes to the dialogue of servants or buffoons. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 217 Shirley. 98. Shirley is a dramatic writer much inferior to those who have been mentioned, but has acquired some degree of reputation, or, at least, notorie- ty of name, in consequence of the new edition of *his plays. These are between twenty and thirty in number ; some of them, however, written in conjunction with his fellow-dramatists. A few of these are tragedies, a few are comedies drawn from English manners ; but in the greater part we find the favourite style of that age, the characters foreign and of el- evated rank, the interest serious, but not always of buskined dignity, the catastro- phe fortunate ; all, in short, that has gone under the vague appellation of tragi-come- dy. Shirley has no originality, no force in conceiving or delineating character, lit- tle of pathos, and less, perhaps, of wit ; his dramas produce no deep impression in reading, and, of course, can leave none in the memory. But his mind was poetical ; his better characters, especially females, express pure thoughts in pure language ; he is never tumid or affected, and seldom obscure ; the incidents succeed rapidly, the personages are numerous, and there is a general animation in the scenes, which causes us to read him with some pleasure. No very good play, nor, possi- bly, any very good scene, could be found in Shirley ; but he has many lines of con- siderable beauty. Among his comedies the Gamesters may be reckoned the best. Charles I. is said to have declared that it was " the best play he had seen these sev- en years ;" and it has even been added that the story was of his royal suggestion. It certainly deserves praise both for language and construction of the plot, and it has the advantage of exposing vice to ridicule ; but the ladies of that court, the fair forms whom Vandyke has immortalized, must have been very different indeed from their posterity, as, in truth, I believe they were, if they could sit it through. The Ball, and also some more among the comedies ol Shirley, are so far remarkable and worthy of being read, that they bear witness to a more polished elegance of manners, and a more free intercourse in the higher class than we find in the comedies of the pre- ceding reign. A queen from France, anc that queen Henrietta Maria, was better fitted to give this tone than Anne of Den- mark. But it is not. from Shirley's pictures that we can draw the most favourable no- tions of the morals of that age. 99'. Hey wood is a writer still more fer- tile than Shirley L between forty and fifty plays are Ascribed to him We have mentioned one of the best in the VOL. II. E E former volume, ante-dating, perhaps, its appearance by a few years. In the Eng- ish Traveller he has returned to some- .hing like the subject of A Woman Killed with Kindness, but with less success. This play is written in verse, and with hat ease and perspicuity, seldom rising o passion or figurative poetry, which dis- inguishes this dramatist. Young Gcral- line is a beautiful specimen of the Pla- onic, or, rather, inflexibly virtuous lover whom the writers of this age delighted to portray. On the other hand, it is difficult o pronounce whether the lady is a thor- ough-paced hypocrite in the first acts, or alls from virtue, like Mrs. Frankfort, on the first solicitation of a stranger. In either :ase the character is unpleasing. and, we may hope, improbable. The under plot of this play is largely borrowed from the Mostellaria of Plautus, and is diverting, ,hough somewhat absurd. Heywood sel- dom rises to much vigour of poetry ; but lis dramatic invention is ready, his style is easy, his characters do not transgress the boundaries of nature, and it is not sur- prising that he was popular in his own age. 100. Webster belongs to the first part of the reign of James. He pos- sessed very considerable powers, and ought to be ranked, I think, the next below Ford. With less *f poetic grace than Shirley, he had incomparably more vigour ; with less of nature and simplicity than Heywood, he had a more elevated*%* genius, and a bolder pencil. But the deep sorrows an4 terrors of tragedy were pe- culiarly his province. " His imagination," says his last editor, " had a foncT familiar- ity wtih objects of awe and fear. The silence of the sepulchre, the sculptures of marble monuments, the knolling of church bells, the cerements of the corpse, the yew that roots itself in dead men's graves, are the illustrations that most readily pre- sent themselves to his imagination." I think this well-written sentence a little one-sided, and hardly doing justice to the variety of Webster's power ; but, in fact, he was as deeply tainted as any of his contemporaries with the savage taste of the Italian school, and in the Duchess of Malfy scarcely leaves enough on the stage to bury the dead. 101. This is the most celebrated of Webster's dramas. The story m s Duchess is taken from Bandello, and has oiMairy. all that accumulation of wickedness and horror which the Italian novelists per- versely described, and our tragedians as perversely imitated. But the scenes are wrought up with skill, and produce a strong 218 LITERATURE OF EUROPE impression. Webster has a superiority in delineating character above many of the old dramatists ; he is seldom extravagant beyond the limits of conceivable nature ; we find the guilt, or even the atrocity, of human passions, but not that, incarnation of evil spirits which some more ordinary dramatists loved to exhibit. In the char- acter of the Duchess of Malfy herself there wants neither originality nor skill of management, and I do not know that any dramatist after Shakepeare would have succeeded better in the difficult scene where she discloses her love to an in- ferior. There is, perhaps, a little failure in dignity and delicacy, especially towards the close ; but the Duchess of Malfy is not drawn as an Isabella or a Portia ; she is a love-sick widow, virtuous and true- hearted, but more intended for our sym- pathy than our reverence. 102. The White Devil, or Vittoria Co- Vittoria rombona, is not much inferior in Corombona. language and spirit to the Duch- ess of Malfy ; but the plot is more con- fused, less interesting, and worse con- ducted. Mr. Dyce, the late editor of Web- ster, praises the dramatic vigour of the part of Vittoria, but justly differs from Lamb, who speaks of " the innocence-re- sembling boldness" she displays in the trial scene. It is rather a delineation of desperate guil^ losing in a counterfeited audacity all that could seduce or conciliate the tribunal. Webster's other plays are less striking ; in Appius and Virginia he has done, perhaps, better than any one who has attempted a subject not, on the whole, very promising for tragedy ; several of the scenes are dramatic and effective ; the language, as is usually the case with Web- ster, is written so as to display an actor's talents, and he has followed the received history sufficiently to abstain from any excess of slaughter at the close. Webster is not without comic wit, as well as a power of imagination ; his plays have late- ly met with an editor of taste enough to admire his beauties, and not very over- partial in estimating them. 103. Below Webster we might enumer- ate a long list of dramatists under the first Stuarts. Marston is a tumid and ranting tragedian, a wholesale dealer in murders and ghosts. Chapman, who assisted Ben Jonson and some others in comedy, de- serves no great praise for his Bussy d'Amboise. The style in this, and in all his tragedies, is extravagantly hyperbolical ; he is not very dramatic, nor has any power of exciting emotion except in those who sympathize with a tumid pride and self- confidence. Yet he has more thinking than many of the old dramatists ; and the praise of one of his critics, though strongly worded, is not without some foundation, that we " seldom find richer contempla- tions on the nature of man and the world." There is also a poetic impetuosity in Chap- man, such as has redeemed his translation of Homer, by which we are hurried along. His tragi-comedies, All Fools and The Gentleman-usher, are perhaps superior to his tragedies.* Rowley and Le Tourneur, especially the former, have occasionally good lines, but we cannot say that they were very superior dramatists. Rowley, however, was often in comic partnership with Massinger. Dekker merits a higher rank; he co-operated with Massinger in some of his plays, and in his own displays some energy of passion and some comic humour. Micldleton belongs to this lower class of dramatic writers ; his tragedy entitled " Women beware Women," is founded on the story of Bianca Cappello ; it is full of action, but the characters are all too vicious to be interesting, and the lan- guage does not rise much above medioc- rity. In comedy, Middleton deserves more praise. " A Trick to catch the Old One," and several others that bear his name, are amusing and spirited. But Middleton wrote chiefly in conjunction with others, and sometimes with Jonson and Massinger. * Chapman is well reviewed, and at length, in an article of the Retrospective Review, vol. iv., p. 333 : and again in vol. v. - FROM 1600 TO 1650. 219 CHAPTER VII. HISTORY OF POLITE LITERATURE IN PROSE FROM 1600 TO 1G50. SECTION I. Italian Writers. Boccalini. Grammatical and Critical Works. Gracian French Writers. Balzac. Vulture. French Academy. Vauge- las Fatru and Le Maistre. Style of English Prose. Earl of Essex. Knolles. Several other English Writers. 1. IT would be vain, probably, to inquire Decline of from what.' general cause we taste in luiiy. should deduce the decline of taste in Italy. None, at least, have oc- curred to my mind, relating to political or social circumstances, upon which we could build more than one of those sophistical theories which assume a causal relation between any concomitant events. Bad taste, in fact, whether in literature or the arts, is always ready to seize upon the public, being, in many cases, no more than a pleasure in faults which are really fitted to please us, and of which it can only be said that they hinder or impair the great- er pleasure we should derive from beau- ties. Among these critical sins, none are so dangerous as the display of ingenious and novel thoughts or turns of phrase. For, as such enter into the definition of good writing, it seems very difficult to persuade the world that they can ever be the characteristics of bad writing. The metes and bounds of ornament, the fine shades of distinction which regulate a ju- dicious choice, are only learned by an at- tentive as well as a naturally susceptible mind ; and it is rarely, perhaps, that an unprepared multitude does not prefer the worse picture, the worse building, the worse poem, the worse speech to the bet- ter. Education, an acquaintance with just criticism, and, still more, the habitual ob- servation of what is truly beautiful in na- ture or art, or in the literature of taste, will sometimes generate almost a nation- al tact that rejects the temptations of a meretricious and false style ; but experi- ence has shown that this happy state of public feeling will not be very durable. Whatever might be the cause of it, this age of the Italian seicentisti has been reckoned almost as inauspicious to good writing in prose as in verse. " If we ex- cept," says Tiraboschi, "the Tuscans and a very few more, never was our language so neglected as in this period. We can scarce bear to read most of the books that were published, so rude and full of barba- risms is their style. Few had any other aim than to exercise their wit in conceits and metaphors ; and, so long as they could scatter them profusely over their pages, cared nothing for the choice of phrases or the purity of grammar. Their eloquence on public occasions was intended only for admiration and applause, not to per- suade or move."* And this, he says, is applicable alike to their Latin and Italian, their sacred and profane harangues. The academical discourses, of which Dati has collected many in his Prose Florentine, are poor in comparison with those of the sixteenth. f 2. A later writer than Tiraboschi has thought this sentence against the seicen- tisti a little too severe, and, condemning equally with him the bad taste character- istic of that age, endeavours to rescue a few from the general censure. J It is at least certain that the insipidity of the cinque cento writers : their long periods, void of any but the most trivial meaning ; their affectation of the faults of Cicero's manner in their own language, ought not to be overlooked or wholly pardoned, while we dwell on an opposite defect of their successors, the perpetual desire to be novel, brilliant, or profound. These may doubtless be the more offensive of the two ; but they are, perhaps, not. less likely to be mingled with something really worth reading. 3. It will not be expected that we can mention many Italian books, after what has been said, which come very precisely within the class of polite literature, or claim any praise on the ground of style. Their greatest luminary, Galileo, style of wrote with clearness, elegance, and f-'anieo. spirit ; no one among the moderns had so entirely rejected a dry and technical man- ner of teaching, and thrown such attrac- tions round the form of truth. Himself a poet and a critic, he did not hesitate to ascribe his own philosophical perspicuity to the constant perusal of Ariosto. This 1 have mentioned in another place ; but we cannot too much remember that all objects of intellectual pursuit are as bod- ies acting with reciprocal forces in one * Vol. xi., p. 415. t Salfi, xiv., 11. t Id. ibid. 220 LITERATURE OF EUROPE system, being all in relation to the facul- ties of the mind, which is itself but one ; and that the most extensive acquaintance with the various provinces of literature will not fail to strengthen our dominion over those we more peculiarly deem our own. The school of Galileo, especially Torricelli and Redi, were not less distin- guished than himself for their union of elegance with philosophy.* 4. The letters of Bentivoglio are com- monly known. This epistolary art was always cultivated by the Italians, first in the Latin tongue, and af- terward in their own. Bentivoglio has written with equal dignity and ease. Gal- ileo's letters are also esteemed on account of their style, as well as of what they con- tain. In what is more peculiarly called eloquence, the Italians of this age are rath- er emulous of success than successful ; the common defects of taste in themselves, and in those who heard or read them, as well as, in most instances, the uninterest- ing nature of their subjects, exclude them from our notice. 5. Trajan Boccalini was, by his dispo- Boccaiim's sition, inclined to political satire, News from and, possibly, to political intrigue ; Parnassus, j^t we have here only to men- tion the work by which he is best known, Advices from Parnassus (Ragguagli di Parnaso). If the idea of this once popu- lar and celebrated book is not original, which I should rather doubt, though with- out immediately recognising a similarity to anything earlier (Lucian, the common prototype, excepted), it has at least been an original source. In the general turn of Boccalini's fictions, and perhaps in a few particular inventions, we may some- times perceive what a much greater man has imitated ; they bear a certain resem- blance to those of Addison, though the vast superiority of the latter in felicity of execution and variety of invention may almost conceal it. The Ragguagli are a series of despatches from the court of Apollo on Parnassus, where he is sur- rounded by eminent men of all ages. This fiction becomes, in itself, very cold and monotonous ; yet there is much variety in the subjects of the decisions made by the god with the advice of his counsellors, and some strokes of satire are well hit. though more, perhaps, fail of effect. But we cannot now catch the force of every passage. Boccalini is full of allusions to his own time, even where the immediate subject seems ancient. This book was published at Venice in 1612; at a time Salfi, iiv., 12. when the ambition of Spain was regarded with jealousy by patriotic Italians, who thought that pacific republic their bulwark and their glory. He inveighs, therefore, against the military spirit and the profes- sion of war, "necessary sometimes, but so fierce and inhuman that no fine expres- sions can make it honourable."* Nor is he less severe on the vices of kings, nor less ardent in his eulogies of liberty ; the government of Venice being reckoned, and not altogether untruly, an asylum of free thought and action in comparison with that of Spain. Aristotle, he reports in one of his depatches, was besieged in his villa on Parnassus by a number of armed men belonging to different princes, who insisted on his retracting the defini- tion he had given of a tyrant, that he was one who governed for his own good, and not that of the people, because it would apply to every prince, all reigning for their own good. The philosopher, alarmed by this demand, altered his definition, which was to run thus, that tyrants were certain persons of old time, whose race was now quite extinct. f Boccalini, however, takes care, in general, to mix something of play- fulness with his satire, so that it could not be resented without apparent ill-na- ture. It seems, indeed, to us free from invective, and rather meant to sting than to wound. But this, if a common rumour be true, did not secure him against a beat- ing of which he died. The style of Boc- calini is said by the critics to be clear and fluent rather than correct or elegant ; and he displays the taste of his times by ex- travagant metaphors. But to foreigners, who regard this less, his News from Par- nassus, unequal, of course, and occasion- ally tedious, must appear to contain many ingenious allusions, judicious criticisms, and acute remarks. 6. The Pietra del Paragone, by the same author, is an odd, and rather His Pietra awkward mixture of reality del Paragone. and fiction, all levelled at the court of Spain, and designed to keep alive a jeal- ousy of its ambition. It is a kind of epi- sode or supplement to the Ragguagli di Parnaso, the leading invention being pre- served. Boccalini is an interesting wri- ter, on account of the light he throws on the history and sentiments of Italy. He is in this work a still bolder writer than in the former; not only censuring Spain without mercy, but even the Venetian aristocracy, observing upon the insolence of the young nobles towards the citizens, though he justifies the senate for not pun- t Id., 76. FROM 1000 TO 1650. 221 ishing the former more frequently with death by public execution, which would lower the nobility in the eyes of the peo- ple. They were, however, he says, as severely punished, when their conduct was bad, by exclusion from offices of trust. The Pietr.a del Paragone is a kind of po- litical, as the Ragguagli is a critical mis- cellany. 7. About twenty years after Boccalini, Ferrame a young man appeared, by name > Paiiavicino Ferrante Pallavicino, who, with a fame more local and transitory, with less respectability of character, and probably with inferior talents, trod, ,to a certain de- gree, in his steps. As Spain had been the object of satire to the one, so was Rome to the other. Urban VIII., an am- bitious pontiff, and vulnerable in several respects, was attacked by an imprudent and self-confident enemy, safe, as he ima- gined, under the shield of Venice. But Pallavicino, having been trepanned into the power of the pope, lost his head at Avignon. None of his writings have fall- en in my way ; that most celebrated at the time, and not wholly dissimiiar in the conception to the News from Parnassus, was entitled The Courier Robbed ; a series of imaginary letters which such a fiction gave him a pretext for bringing together. Perhaps we may consider Pallavicino as rather a counterpart to Jordano Bruno, in (he satirical character of the latter, than to Boccalini.* 8. The Italian language itself, gram- Dictionary matically considered, was still Delia crusca. assiduously cultivated. The Academicians of Florence published the first edition of their celebrated Vocabola- rio della Crusca in 1613. It was avowed- ly founded on Tuscan principles, setting up the fourteenth century as the Augustan period of the language, which they dis- dained to call Italian ; and, though not ab- solutely excluding the great writers of the sixteenth age whom Tuscany had not produced, giving, in general, a manifest preference to their own. Italy has re- belled against this tyranny of Florence, as she did, in the Social War, against that of Rome. Her Lombard, and Romagnol, and Neapolitan writers have claimed the rights of equal citizenship, and fairly won them in the field of literature. The Vo- cabulary itself was not received as a le- gislative code. Beni assailed it by his Anti-Crusca the same year : many invidi- ously published marginal notes to point out the inaccuracies ; and, in the frequent revisions and enlargements of this dic- * Corniani, viii., 205. Salfi, xiv., 46. tionary, the exclusive character it affected has, I believe, been nearly lost. 9. Buonmattei, himself a Florentine, was the first who completed an extensive and methodical gram- ea?wwk mar, " developing," says Tira- Buomaiiei. boschi, " the whole economy Bartoli - and system of our language." It was published entire, after some previous im- pressions of parts, with the title Delia Lingua Toscana, in 1643. This has been reckoned a standard work, both for its authority, and for the clearness, precision, and elegance with which it is written ; but it betrays something of an academical and Florentine spirit in the rigour of its gram- matical, criticism.* Bartoli. a Fcrrarese Jesuit, and a man of extensive learning, attacked that dogmatic school, who were accustomed to proscribe common phrases with a Non si pud (It cannot be used), in a treatise entitled II torto ed il diritto del Non si pud. His object was to justify many expressions, thus authoritatively condemned, by the examples of the best writers. This book was a little later than the middle of the century. f 10. Petrarch had been the idol, in gen- eral, of the preceding age : and, Tassoni - srp . above all, he was the peculiar marksonPe- divinity of the Florentines. But trarcil - this seventeenth century was, in the pro- ductions of the mind, a period of revolu- tionary innovation ; men dared to ask why, as well as what, they ought to wor- ship ; and sometimes the same who re- belled against Aristotle as an infallible guide, were equally contumacious in deal- ing with the great names of literature. Tassoni published in 1C09 his Observa- tions on the Poems of Petrarch. They are not written, as we should now think, adversely to one whom he professes to honour above all lyric poets in the world ; and, though his critical remarks are some- what minute, they seem hardly unfair. A writer like Petrarch, whose fame has been raised so high by his style, is surely amenable to this severity of examination. The finest sonnets Tassoni generally ex- tols, but gives a preference, on the whole, to the odes ; which, even if an erroneous judgment, cannot be called unfair upon the author of both.J He produces many parallel passages from the Latin poems of Petrarch himself, as well as from the ancients, and from the earlier Italians and * Tiraboschi, xi., 409. Salfi, xiii., 398. t Corniani, vii., 250. Salfi, xiii., 417. j Tutte Ic rime, tutti i versi in Renrralo alru uiown out of their own country, and whom I cannot refer with absolute pro- priety to this rather than to the ensu- ng period, except by a certain character and manner of writing, which belongs more to the antecedent than the later moiety of the seventeenth century. These were two lawyers, Patru and Le Maistre. I'he pleadings of Patru appear to me ex- cellent in their particular line of forensic eloquence, addressed to intelligent and experienced judges. They greatly re- semble what are called the private ora- tions of Demosthenes, and those of Ly- sias and Isajus, especially, perhaps, the last. No ambitious ornament, no appeal to the emotions of the heart, no bold fig- ures of rhetoric are permitted in the Attic severity of this style ; or, if they ever oc- cur, it is to surprise us as things rather uncommon in the place where they appear than in themselves. Patru does not even employ the exordium usual in speeches, but rushes instantaneously, though al- ways perspicuously, into his statement of the case. In the eyes of many this is no eloquence at all ; and it requires, per- haps, some taste for legal reasoning to enter fully into its merit. But the Greek orators are masters whom a motlern law- yer need not blush to follow, and to fol- low, as Patru did, in their respect for the tribunal they addressed. They spoke to rather a numerous body of judges ; but those were Athenians, and, as we have reason to believe, the best and most up- right, the salt of that vicious city. Patru again spoke to the Parliament of Paris ; men too well versed in the ways of law and justice to be the dupes of tinkling sound. He is therefore plain, lucid, well arranged, but not emphatic or impetuous ; the subjects of his published speeches would not admit of such qualities; though Patru is said to have employed on some occasions the burning words of the high- est oratory His style has always been reckoned purely and rigidly French; but * This was Gomberville, in whose immense ro- mance, Polexandre, it is said that this word only occurs three times ; a discovery which does vast honour to the person who took the pains to make it. LITERATURE OF EUROPE I have been led rather to praise what has struck me in the substance of his plead- ing^-, which, whether read at this day in France or not, are, I may venture to say, worthy to be studied by lawyers, like those to which I have compared them, the strictly forensic portion of Greek oratory. In some speeches of Patru which are gy, rather striking to the common hearer, than likely to weigh much with a tribunal. He has less simplicity, less purity of taste than Patni ; his animated language would, in our courts, be frequently effective with a jury, but would seem too indefinite and commonplace to the judges ; we should crowd to hear Le Maistre, we should be more generally praised that on his own J compelled to decide with Patru. They reception in the Academy, and one corn- 1 are both, however, very superior advo- plimentary to Christina it seemed to me j cates, and do great honour to the French that he falls very short of his judicial bar. style ; the ornaments are commonplace, and such as belong to the panegyrical de- partment of oratory, in all ages less im- portant and valuable than the ottier two. It should be added, that Patru was not only one of the purest writers, but one of the best critics which France possessed.* 28. The forensic speeches of Le Mais- and of Le tre are more eloquent, in a popu- Maistre. \ ar sense o f the word, more ar- dent, more imaginative, than those of Pa- tru; the one addresses the judges alone, that are unintelligible, none that the other has a view to the audience ; the ; offence. But to this next period belong one seeks the success of his cause alone, j most of those whom we commonly reckon, the other that and his own glory together. | our old English writers; men often of The one will be more prized by the lov- i such sterling worth for their sense, that ers of legal reasoning, the other by the | we might read them with little regard to majority of mankind. The one more re- i their language, yet, in some instances at sembles the orations of Demosthenes for j least, possessing much that demand? his private clients, the other those of Ci- i praise in this respect. They are general cero. Le Maistre is fervid and brilliant ; ly nervous and effective, copious to re he hurries us with him ; in all his plead- ': dundancy in their command of words, '29. A sensible improvement in the gen- eral style of English writers had improvement come on before the expiration in English of the sixteenth century ; the slyle ' rude and rough phrases, sometimes re- quiring a glossary, which lie as spots of rust on the pages of Latimer, Grafton, Aylmer, or even Ascham, had been chief- ly polished away ; if we meet in Sidney, Hooker, or the prose of Spenser with ob- solete expressions or forms, we find none ings, warmth is his first characteristic, and a certain elegance is the second. In the to employ what seemed to them oriia ment with much imagination rather tha? power of statement I do not perceive that judicious taste r yet seldom degenerating he is inferior to Patru ; both are excellent, j into commonplace and indefinite phrase- Wherever great moral or social topics, or , ology. They have, however, many de- extensive views of history and human na- fects ; some of them, especially the most Hire can be employed, Le Maistre has the learned, are full of pedantry, and deform advantage. Both are consise, relatively their pages by an excessive and prepos- lo the common verbosity of the bar ; but j terous mixture of Latinisms unknown be- Le Maistre has much more that might be i fore ;* at other times we are disgusted by retrenched ; not that it is redundant in { colloquial and even vulgar idioms or prov- erbs ; nor is it uncommon to find these opposite blemishes not only in the same author, but in the same passages. Their expression, but unnecessary in substance. This is owing to his ambitious display of general erudition ; his quotations are too frequent and too ornamental, partly drawn from the ancients, but more from the fa-' thers. Ambrose, in fact, Jerome and Au- gustin, Chrysostom, Basil, and Gregory were the models whom the writers of this age were accustomed to study ; and hence they are often, and Le Maistre among the rest, too apt to declaim where they should prove, and to use arguments from analo- * Perrault says of Patru in his Hommes Illustres de France, vol. ii., p. 66, Ses plaidoyers servent en- core ctujoiu-d'hui de modele pour ecrire correctement en notre langue. Yet they were not much above thirty years old so much had the language chan- ged, as to rules of writing, within that time. periods, except in a very few, are ill-con- structed and tediously prolonged ; their ears (again with some exceptions) seem to have been insensible to the beauty of rhythmical prose ; grace is commonly wanting, and their notion of the artifices of style, when they thought at all about them, was not congenial to our own lan- guage. This may be deemed a general description of the English writers under * In Pratt's edition of Bishop Hall's works, we have a glossary of obsolete or unusual words em- ployed by him. They amount to more than 1100, the greater part being of Latin or Greek origin ; some are Gallicisms. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 229 jamcs and Charles ; we shall now pro- ceed to mention some of the most famous, and who may, in a certain degree, be deemed to modify this censure. *- 30. I will begin with a passage of very Earl or considerable beauty, which is here Essex, out of its place, since it was written in the year 1598. It is found in the Apol- ogy for the Earl of Essex, published among the works of Lord Bacon, and pass- ing, 1 suppose, commonly for his. It seems, nevertheless, in my judgment, far more probably genuine. We have no- where in our early writers a flow of words so easy and graceful, a structure so har- monious, a series of antitheses so spirited without affectation, an absence of quaint- ness, pedantry, and vulgarity so truly gen- tleman-like, a paragraph so worthy of the most brilliant man of his age. This could not have come from Bacon, who never divested himself of a certain didactic for- mality, even if he cduld have counterfeit- ed that chivalrous generosity which it was not in his nature to feel. It is the lan- guage of a soldier's heart, with the un- studied grace of a noble courtier.* * " A word for my friendship with the chief men of action, and favour generally to the men of war; and then I come to their main objection, which is my crossing .of the treaty in hand. For most of f them that are accounted the chief men of action, I do confess, I do entirely love them. They have been my companions both abroad and at home ; some of them began the wars with me, most have had place under me, and many have had me a wit- ness of their rising from captains, lieutenants, and private men to those charges which since, by their virtue, they have obtained. Now that I have tried them, I would choose them for friends if I had them not ; before 1 had tried them, God, by hisprov- idence, chose them for me. I love them for mine own sake ; for I find sweetness in their conversa- tion, strong assistance in their employments with me, and happiness in their friendship. I love them for their virtues' sake, and for their greatness of mind (for little minds, though never so full of vir- tue, can be but a little virtuous), and for their great understanding ; for to understand little things, or things not of use, is little better than to understand nothing at all. I love them for their affections ; for self-loving men love ease, pleasure, and profit; but ihey that love pains, danger, and fame, show that they love public profit more than themselves. I love them for my country's sake ; for they are Eng- land's best armour of defence and weapons of of- fence. If we may have peace, they have purchased it ; if we must have war, they must manage it. Vet, while we are doubtful and in treaty, we must value ourselves by what may be done, and the enemy will value us by what hath been done by our chief men of action. " That generally I am affected to the men of war, it should not seem strange to any reasonable man. Every man doth love them of his own profession. The grave judges favour the students of the law ; the reverend bishops the labourers in the ministry ; and I (since her majesty hath yearly user 1 my ser- vice in her late actions) must reckon myself in the number of her men of war. Before action, Provi- 31. Knolles, already known by a spirit- ed translation of Bodin's Com- K noiies' 8 monwealth, published, in 1610, a History 01 copious History of the Turks, theTurk - bringing down his narrative to the most recent times. Johnson, in a paper of the Rambler, has given him the superiority over all English historians. " He has displayed all the excellences that narra- tion can admit. His style, though some- what obscured by time and vitiated by false wit, is pure, nervous, elevated, and dear. . . . Nothing could have sunk this author into obscurity but the remoteness and barbarity of the people whose story he relates. It seldom happens that all circumstances concur to happiness or fame. The nation which produced this great historian has the grief of seeing his genius employed upon a foreign and unin- teresting subject ; and that writer who might have secured perpetuity to his name by a history of his own country, has exposed himself to the danger of ob- livion by recounting enterprises and revo- lutions of which none desire to be inform- ed."* The subject, however, appeared to Knolles, and I know not how we can say erroneously, one of the most splendid he could have selected. It was the rise and growth of a mighty nation, second only to Rome in the constancy of success and in the magnitude of empire ; a nation fierce and terrible, the present scourge of half Christendom ; and though, from our remoteness, not very formidable to our- selves, still one of which not the bookish man in his closet or the statesman in coun- cil had alone heard, but the smith at his anvil, and the husbandman at his plough. A long decrepitude of the Turkish em- pire on one hand, and our frequent alli- ance with it on the other, have obliterated the apprehensions and interests of every kind which were awakened throughout Europe by its youthful fury and its ma- tun- strength. The subject was also new in England, yet rich in materials ; vari- ous, in comparison with ordinary history, though not, perhaps, so fertile of philo- sophical observation as some others, arid furnishing many occasions for the pecu- liar talents of Knolles. These were dis- played, not in depth of thought or copi- ousness of collateral erudition, but in a style and in a power of narration which Johnson has not too highly extolled. His descriptions are vivid and animated ; dence makes me cherish them for what they can do ; in action, necessity makes me value them for~ the service they do ; and after action, experience and thankfulness make me love them for the ser- vice they have done." * Rambler, No. 122. 230 LITERATURE OF EUROPE circumstantial, but not to feebleness ; his characters are drawn with a strong pencil. It is, indeed, difficult to estimate the mer- its of an historian very accurately without having before our eyes his original sour- c'es ; he may probably have translated much that we admire, and he had shown that he knew how to translate. In the style of Knolles there is sometimes, as Johnson has hinted, a slight excess of de- sire to make every phrase effective ; but he is exempt from the usual blemishes of his age ; and his command of the lan- guage is so extensive, that we should not err in placing him among the first of our elder writers. Comparing, as a specimen of Knolles's manner, his description of the execution of Mustapha, son of Soly- maii, with that given by Robertson, where the latter historian has been as circum- stantial as his limits would permit, we shall perceive that the former paints bet- ter his story, and deepens better its inter- .est.* 33. Raleigh's History of the World is Raleigh's a proof of the respect for labori- History of ous learning that had long distin- tbe world. guished Europe. We should ex- pect from the prison-hours of a soldier, a courtier, a busy intriguer in state affairs, a poet and man of genius, something well worth our notice ; but hardly a prolix his- tory of the ancient world, hardly disqui- sitions on the site of Paradise and the trav- els of Cain. These are probably transla- ted with little alteration from some of the learned writings of the Continent ; they are by much the least valuable portion of Raleigh's work. The Greek and Roman story is told more fully and exactly than by any earlier English writer, and with a plain eloquence, which has given this book a classical reputation in our language ; though from its length, and the want of that critical sifting of facts which we now justly demand, it is not greatly read. Ra- leigh has intermingled political reflections, and illustrated his history by episodes from modern times, which, .perhaps, are now the most interesting passages. It descends only to the second Macedonian war ; the continuation might have been more generally valuable ; but either the death of Prince Henry, as Raleigh himself tells us, or the new schemes of ambition which unfortunately opened upon his eyes, prevented the execution of the large plan he had formed. There is little now ob- solete in the words of Raleigh, nor, to any great degree, in his turn of phrase ; the periods, when pains have been taken with them, show that artificial structure which we find in Sidney and Hooker ; he is less pedantic than most of his contemporaries, seldom low, never affected.* 33. Daniel's History of England from the Conquest to the Reign of Ed- Daniel's ward III., published in 1G18. is History oj deserving of some attention on En s |and account of its language. It is written with a freedom from all stiffness, and a purity of style which hardly any other work of so early a date exhibits. These qualities are, indeed, so remarkable, that it would require a good deal of critical ob- servation to distinguish it even from wri- tings of the reign of Anne ; and where it differs from them (I speak only of the secondary class of works, which have not much individuality of manner), it is by a more select idiom, and by an absence of the Gallicism or vulgarity which are often found in that age. It is true that the merits of Daniel are chiefly negative ; he is never pedantic, or antithetical, or low, as his contemporaries were apt to be ; but his periods are ill constructed ; he has lit- tle vigour or elegance ; and it is only by observing how much pains he must have taken to reject phrases which were grow- ing obsolete, that we give him credit for having done more than follow the com- mon stream of early writing. A slight tinge of archaism, and a certain majesty of expression, relatively to colloquial usage, were thought by Bacon and Ra- leigh congenial to an elevated style ; but Daniel, a gentleman of the king's house- hold, wrote as the court spoke ; and his facility would be pleasing if his sentences had a less negligent structure. As an his- torian, he has recourse only to common authorities ; but his narration is fluent and * Knolles, p. 515. Robertson, book xi. * Raleigh's History was so little known, that Warburton, in the preface to his Julian, took from it a remarkable passage without acknowledgment : and Dr. Parr, though a man of very extensive reading, extolled it as Warburton's, not knowing, what he afterward discovered, the original source. The passage is as follows in Raleigh, Warburton, of course, having altered some of the expressions." " We have left it (the Roman empire) flourishing in the middle of the field, having rooted up or cut down all that kept it from the eyes and admiration of the world. But, after some continuance, it shall begin to lose the beauty it had ; the storms of am bition shall beat her great boughs and branches one against another ; her leaves shall fall off, her limbs wither, and a rabble of barbarous nations enter the field and cut her down." Raleigh's History, ad finem. Notwithstanding the praise that has been be- stowed on this sentence, it is open to some cen- sure ; the simile and subject are too much con- founded ; a rabble of barbarous nations might be required to subvert the Roman empire, but make an odd figure in cutting down a tree. The rhythm and spirit, indeed, are admirable. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 231 perspicuous, with a regular vein of good sense, more the characteristic of his mind, both in verse and prose, than any com- manding vigour. 34. The style of Bacon has an idiosyn- cracy which we might expect from con ' his genius. It can rarely, indeed, happen, and only in men of secondary talents, that the 'anguage they use is not, by its very choice and collocation, as w r eil as its meaning, the representative of an individuality that distinguishes their turn of thought. Bacon is elaborate, senten- tious, often witty, often metaphorical ; nothing could be spared ; his analogies are generally striking and novel; his style is clear, precise, forcible ; yet there is some degree of stiffness about it, and in mere language he is inferior to Raleigh. The I History of Henry VII., admirable as many ; passages are, seems to be written rather j too ambitiously, and with too great an ab- sence of simplicity. 35. The polemical writings of Milton, which chieliy fall within this period, >n ' contain several bursts of his splendid imagination and grandeur of soul. They are, however, much inferior to the Areo- pagitica, or Pica for the Liberty of Un- licensed Printing. Many passages in this famous tract are admirably eloquent ; an intense love of liberty and truth glows through it; the majestic soul of Milton breathes .such high thoughts as had not been uttered before ; yet even here he frequently sinks in a single instant, as is usual with our old writers, from his high- est flights to the ground ; his intermixture of familiar with learned phraseology is tin- pleasing, his structure is affectedly elabo- rate, and he seldom reaches any harmony. If he turns to invective, as sometimes in this treatise, and more in his Apology for Smectymnuus, it is mere ribaldrous vul- garity blended with pedantry ; his wit is always poor and without ease. An ab- sence of idiomatic grace, and a use of harsh inversions, violating the rules of the language, distinguish, in general, the wai- tings of Milton, and require, in order to compensate them, such high beauties as will sometimes occur. 36. The History of Clarendon may be considered as belonging rather to 3on " this than to the second period of the century, both by the probable date of composition and by the nature of its style. He is excellent in everything that \\p has performed with care ; his characters are beautifully delineated ; his sentiments have often a noble gravity, which the length of his periods, far too "great in itself, seems to befit ; but in the general course of his narration he is negligent of grammar and perspicuity, with little choice of words, and, therefore, sometimes idiomatic with- out ease or elegance. The official papers on the royal side, which are generally at- tributed to him, are written in a masculine and majestic tone, far superior to those of the Parliament. The latter had, however, a writer who did them honour: May's History of the Parliament is a good model of genuine English; he is plain, terse, and vigorous, never slovenly, though with few remarkable passages, and is, in style as well as substance, a kind of contrast to Clarendon. 37. The famous Icon Basilice, ascribed to Charles I., may deserve a place The icon in literary history. If we could uasiiice. trust its panegyrists, few books in our language have done it more credit by dig- nity of sentiment and beauty of style. It can hardly be necessary for me to express my unhesitating conviction that it was solely written by Bishop Gaudcn, who, after the Restoration, unequivocally claim- ed it as his own. The folly and impudence of such a claim, if it could not be substan- tiated, arc not to be presumed as to any man of good understanding, fair character, and high station, without stronger evidence than has been alleged on the other side ; especially when we find that those who had the best means of inquiry, at a time when it seems impossible that the false- hood of Gauden's assertion should not have been demonstrated if it were false, acquiesced in his pretensions. We have very little to place against this except secondary testimony, vague, for the most part, in itself, and collected by those whose veracity has not been put to the test like that of Gauden.* The style, also, of the Icon Basilice has been identified by Mr. Todd with that of Gauden, by the use of several phrases so peculiar that we can hardly conceive them to have suggested * There is only one claimant, in a proper sense, for the Icon Basilice, which is Uaudcn himself; the king neither appears by himself nor representative. And, though we may find several instances of plagiarism in literary history (one of the grosses: being the publication, by a Spanish friar, under another title, of a book already in print with tho name of Hyperius of Marpurg, its real author), yet I cannot call to mind any, where a man known to the world has asserted in terms his own authorship of a hook not written by himself, but universally ascribed to another, and which hml never been in his possession. A story is told, and I believe truly, that, a young man assumed the credit, of Macken- zie's Man of Feelinsr while it was still anonymous. But this is widuly different from the case of the Icon Basilice. We have had an interminable dis- cussion as to the Letters of Junius. But no one has ever claimed this derelict property to himself, or told the world. I am Junius. LITERATURE OF EUROPE themselves to more than one person. It is, nevertheless, superior to his acknowl- edged writings. A strain of majestic mel- ancholy is well kept up ; but the person- ated sovereign is rather too theatrical for real nature, the language is too rhetorical and amplified, the periods too artificially elaborated. None but scholars and prac- tised writers employ such a style as this. 38. Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy belongs, by its systematic divis- Ariatomy i ns an d its accumulated quota- of Meian- tions, to the class of mere erudi- choly. jj on . j t seems> a t fj rs t sight, like those tedious Latin folios, into which scholars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries threw the materials of their Ad- versaria, or commonplace books, pain- fully selected and arranged by the labour of many years. But writing fortunately in English, and in a style not by any means devoid of point and terseness, with much good sense, and observation of men as well as of books, and having, also, the skill of choosing his quotations for their rareness, oddfty, and amusing character, without losing sight of their pertinence to the subject, he has produced a work of which, as is well known, Johnson said that it was the only one which had ever caused him to leave his bed earlier than he had intended. Johnson, who seems to have had some turn for the singularities of learning which fill the Anatomy of Melancholy, may perhaps have raised the credit of Burton higher than his desert. He is clogged by excess of reading, like others of his age, and we may peruse en- tire chapters without finding more than a few lines tljat belong to himself. This becomes a wearisome style, and, for my- self, I have not found much pleasure in glancing over the Anatomy of Melancholy. It may be added, that he has been a col- lector of stories far more strange than true, from those records of figments, the old medical writers of the sixteenth cen- tury, and other equally deceitful sources. Burton lived at Oxford, and his volumes are apparently a great sweeping of mis- cellaneous literature from the Bodleian library. 39. John Earle, after the Restoration F.arie's bishop of Worcester, and then Characters. o f Salisbury, is author of " Mi- | crocosmographia, or a Piece of the Worlde \ discovered in Essays and Characters," j published anonymously in 1628. In some I of these short characters, Earle is worthy of comparison with La Bruyere ; in oth- ers, perhaps the greater part, he has con- j tented himself with pictures of ordinary ! manners, such as the varieties of occupa- ] tion, rather than of intrinsic character, supply. In all, however, we find an acute observation and a happy humour of ex- pression. The chapter entitled the Skep- tic is best known; it is witty, but an in- sult, throughout, on the honest searcher after truth, which could have come only from one that was content to take up his own opinions for ease or profit. Earle is always gay, and quick to catch the ridic- ulous, especially that of exterior appear- ances ; his style is short, describing well with a few words, but with much of the affected quaintness of that age. It is one of those books which give us a picturesque idea of the manners of our fathers at a period now become remote, and for this reason it would deserve to be read. 40. But the Microcosmography is not an original work in its plan or overbuys mode of execution ; it is a close Characters, imitation of the Chai'acters of Sir Thomas Overbury. They both belong to the fa- vourite style of apophthegm, in which ev- ery sentence is a point or a witticism. Yet the entire character so delineated pro- duces a certain effect ; it is a Dutch pic- ture, a Gerard Dow, somewhat too elab- orate. Earle has more natural humour than Overbury, and hits his mark more neatly ; the other is more satirical, but often, abusive and vulgar. The " Fair and Happy Milkmaid," often quoted, is the best of his characters. The wit is often trivial and flat ; the sentiments have no- thing in them general or worthy of much resemblance ; praise is only due to the raphic skill in delineating character. Earle is as clearly the better, as Overbury is the more original writer. 41. A book by Ben Jonson, entitled Timber, or Discoveries made jonson's upon Men and Matter," is alto- Discoveries, gether miscellaneous, the greater part be- ng general moral remarks, while another portion deserves notice as the only book of English criticism in the first part of the eventeenth century. The observations are unconnected, judicious, sometimes witty, frequently severe. The style is what was called pregnant, leaving much to be filled up by the reader's reflection. Good sense, and a vigorous manner of grappling with every subject, will gener- ally be found in Jonson, but he does not reach any very profound criticism. His English Grammar is said by Giftbrd to have been destroyed in the conflagration of his study. What we have, therefore, under that name is, he thinks, to be con- sidered as properly the materials of a more complete work that is lost. We have, as I apprehend, no earlier grammar FROM 1600 TO 1C50. 233 npon so elaborate a plan; every rule is illustrated by examples, almost to redun- dance ; but he is too copious on what is common to other languages, and perhaps not full enough as to our peculiar idiom. Nothing else deserving of the slightest no- tice can be added to this book of Jonson. SECT. II. ON FICTION. Cervantes. French Romances. Calprenede. Scuderi. Latin and English Works of Fiction. 42. THE first part of Don Quixote was Publication published in 1605. We have no or Don reason, I believe, to suppose that Quixote. j t was wr itten long before. It became immediately popular; and the ad- miration of the world raised up envious competitors, one of whom, Avellenada, published a continuation in a strain of in- vective against the author. Cervantes, who cannot be imagined to have ever de- signed the leaving his romance in so un- finished a state, took time about the sec- ond part, which did not appear till 1615. 43. Don Quixote is the only book in the its repu- Spanish language which can now union. be said to possess much of a Eu- ropean reputation. It has, however, en- joyed enough 1o compensate for the neg- lect of all the rest. It is to Europe in general what Ariosto is to Italy, and vShakspeare to England ; the one book to which the slightest allusions may be made without affectation, but not missed with- out discredit. Numerous translations, and countless editions of them, in every language, -bespeak its adaptation to man- kind ; no critic has been paradoxical enough to withhold his admiration; no reader has ventured to confess a want of relish for that in which the young and old, in every climate, have, age after age, taken delight. They have doubtless be- lieved that they understood the author's meaning ; and, in giving the reins to the gayety that his fertile invention and comic humour inspired, never thought of any deeper meaning than he announces, or delayed their enjoyment for any meta- physical investigation of his plan. 44. A new school of criticism, howev- Newviewa er, has of late years arisen in of iu design. Germany, acute, ingenious, and sometimes eminently successful in philo- sophical, or, as they denominate it, aes- thetic analysis of works of taste, but gli- ding too much into refinement and con- jectural hypothesis, and with a tendency to mislead men of inferior capacities for this kind of investigation into mere para- VOL. II. G o dox and absurdity. An instance is sup- plied, in my opinion, by some remarks of Bouterwek, still more explicitly developed by Sismondi, on the design of Cervantes in Don Quixote, and which have been re- peated in other publications. According to these writers, the primary idea is that of a " man of elevated character, excited by heroic and enthusiastic feelings to the extravagant pitch of wishing to restore the age of chivalry ; nor is it possible to form a more mistaken notion of this work than by considering it merely as a satire, intended by the author to ridicule the ab- surd passion for reading old romances."* " The fundamental idea of Don Quixote," says Sismoudi, " is the eternal contrast between the spirit of poetry and that of prose. Men of an elevated soul propose to themselves, as the object of life, to be the defenders of the weak, the support of the oppressed, the champions of justice and innocence. Like Don Quixote, they find on every side the image of the virtues they worship ; they believe that disinter- estedness, nobleness, courage, in short, knight-errantry, are still prevalent ; and, with no calculation of their own powers, they expose themselves for an ungrateful world, they offer themselves as a sacrifice to the laws and rules of an imaginary state of society."! 45. If this were a true representation of the scheme of Don Quixote, we cannot wonder that some persons should, as M. Sismondi tells us they do, consider it as the most melancholy book that has ever been written. They consider it also, no doubt, one of the most immoral, as chill- ing and pernicious in its influence on the social converse of. mankind as the Prince of Machiavel is on their political inter- course. " Cervantes," he proceeds, " has shown us, in some measure, the vanity of greatness of soul and the delusion of heroism. He has drawn, in Don Quixote, a perfect man (un homme accompli), who is, nevertheless, the constant object of ridicule. Brave beyond the fabled knights he imitates, disinterested, honourable, gen- erous, the most faithful and respectful of lovers, the best of masters, the most ac- complished and well-educated of gentle- men, all his enterprises end in discomfi- ture to himself and in mischief to others." M. Sismondi descants upon the perfec- tions of the Knight of La Mancha with a gravity which is not quite easy for his readers to preserve. 46. It might be answered by a phleg- * Bouterwek, p. 334. t Litterature du Midi, vol. iii., p. 339. 234 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Probably matic observer, that a mere en- erroneous, thusiasm for doing good, if excited by vanity, and not accompanied by com- mon sense, will seldom be very service- able to ourselves or to others; that men who, in their heroism and care for the oppressed, would throw open the cages of lions, and set galley-slaves at liberty, not forgetting to break the limbs of harmless persons whom they mistake for wrong- doers, are a class of whom Don Quixote is the real type ; and that the, world being much the worse for such heroes, it might not be immoral, notwithstanding their be- nevolent enthusiasm, to put them out of countenance by a little ridicule. This, however, is not, as I conceive, the primary aim of Cervantes ; nor do I fliink that the exhibitioa of one. great truth, as the pre- dominant, but concealed moral of a long work, is in the spirit of his age. He pos- sessed a very thoughtful mind and a pro- found knowledge of humanity; yet the generalization which the hypothesis of Bouterwek and Sismondi requires for the leading conception of Don Quixote, be- sides its being a little inconsistent with the valorous and romantic character of its author, belongs to a more advanced period of philosophy than his own. It will, at all events, I presume, be admitted, that we can not reason about Don Quixote except from the book, and I think it may be shown in a few words that these ingenious wri- ters have been chiefly misled by some want of consistency which circumstances produced in the author's delineation of his hero. 47. In the first chapter of this romance, Difference Cervantes, with a few strokes between the of a great master, sets before two pans. us t ] ie p au p er gentleman, an early riser and keen sportsman, who, " when he was idle, which was most part of the year," gave himself up to reading books of chivalry till he lost his wits. The events that follow are in every one's recollection; his lunacy consists, no doubt, only in one idea : but this is so absorbing that it perverts the evidence of his senses, and predominates in all his language. It is to be observed, therefore, in relation to the nobleness of soul ascribed to Don Quixote, that every sentiment he utters is borrowed with a punctilious rigpur from the romances of his library ; he resorts to them on every occasion for precedents ; if he is intrepidly brave, it is because his madness and vanity have made him believe himself unconquerable ; if he bestows king- doms, it is because Amadis would have done the same ; if he is honourable, cour- teous, a redresser of wrongs, it is in pur- suance of these prototypes, from whom, except that he seems rather more scrupu- lous in chastity, it is his bnly boast not to diverge. Those who talk of the exalted character of Don Quixote seem really to forge't, that on these subjects he has no character at all : he is the echo of romance ; and to praise him is merely to say that the tone of chivalry, which these produc- tions studied to keep up, and, in the hands of inferior artists, foolishly exaggerated, was full of moral dignity, and has, in a subdued degree of force, modelled the character of a man of honour in the pres- ent day. But throughout the first two volumes of Don Quixote, though in a few unimportant passages he talks rationally, I cannot find more than two in which he displays any other knowledge or strength of mind than the original delineation of the character would lead us to expect. 48. The case is much altered in the last two volumes. Cervantes had acquired an immense popularity, and perceived the op- portunity, of which he had already availed himself, that this romance gave for dis- playing his own mind. He had become attached to a hero who had made him illustrious, and suffered himself to lose sight of the clear outline he had once traced for Quixote's personality. Hence we find in all this second part, that, al- though the lunacy as to knights errant re- mains unabated, he is, on all other sub- jects, not only rational in the low sense of the word, but clear, acute, profound, sarcastic, cool-headed. His philosophy is elevated, but not enthusiastic ; his imagina- tion is poetical, but it is restrained by strong sense. There are, in fact, two Don Quixotes ; one, whom Cervantes first de- signed to draw, the foolish gentleman of La Mancha, whose foolishness had made him frantic ; the other a highly gifted, ac- complished model of the best chivalry, trained in all the court, the camp, or the college could impart, but scathed in one portion of his mind by an inexplicable visitation of monomania. One is inclined to ask why this Don Quixote, who is Cervantes, should have been more likely to lose his intellects by reading romances than Cervantes himself. Asa matter of bodily disease, such an event is doubtless possible ; but nothing can be conceived more improper for fiction, nothing more incapable of affording a moral lesson than the insanity which arises wholly from disease. Insanity is, in no point of view, a theme for ridicule ; and this is an in- herent fault of the romance (for those who have imagined that Cervantes has not rendered Quixote ridiculous have a strange FROM 1600 TO 1650 notion of the word) ; but the thoughtless- ' ness of mankind, rather than their insen- ] sibility for they do not connect madness j with misery furnishes some apology for the first two volumes. In proportion as we perceive below the veil of mental de- lusion ;i noble intellect, we feel a painful sympathy with its humiliation; the char- acter becomes more complicated and in- teresting, but has less truth and natural- ness ; an objection which might also be : made, comparatively speaking, to the in- 1 cidents in the latter volumes, wherein I [ do not find the admirable probability that reigns through the former. But this con- j trast of wisdom and virtue with insanity i in the same subject would have been re- pulsive in the primary delineation ; as I think any one may judge by supposing that Cervantes had, in the first chapter, drawn such a picture of Quixote as Bou- terwek and Sismondi have drawn for him. 49. I must therefore venture to think, as, I believe, the world has generally thought for two centuries;, that Cervantes had no more profound aim than he pro- poses to the reader. If the fashion of reading bad romances of chivalry pervert- ed the taste of his contemporaries and rendered their language ridiculous, it was natural that a zealous lover of good liter- ature should expose this folly to the world by exaggerating its effects on a fictitious personage. It has been said by some modern writer, though I cannot remember by whom, that there was a prose side in the mind of Cervantes. There was, in- deed, a side of calm strong sense, which some took for unpoctical. He thought the tone of those romances extravagant. It might naturally occur how absurd any one must appear who should attempt to realize in actual life the adventures of Amadis. Already a novelist, he perreiv< ! the opportunities this idea suggested. It was a necessary consequence that the hero must be represented as literally in- sane, since his conduct would have been extravagant beyond the probability of fic- tion on any other hypothesis ; and from this happy conception germinated in a very prolific mind the whole history of Don Quixote. Its simplicity is perfect ; no limit could be found save the author's discretion, or sense that he had drawn sufficiently on his imagination; but the' death of Quixote, which Cervantes has ] been said to have determined upon, lest some one else should a second time pre- sume to continue the story, is, in fact, the, only possible termination that could be given, after he had elevated the character to that pitch of mental dignity which we find iii the last two volumes. 50. Few books of moral philosophy dis- play as deep an insight into the Excellence mechanism of the mind as Don r nu ro- Quixote. And when we look " ia " cc - also at the fertility of invention, the gen- eral -probability of the events, and the great simplicity of the story, wherein no artifices are practised to create suspense 'or complicate the action, we shall think Cervantes fully deserving of the glory that attends this monument of his genius. It is not merely that he is superior to all his predecessors and contemporaries. This, though it might account for the Eu- ropean fame of his romance, would be an inadequate testimony to its desert. Cer- vantes stands on an eminence below which we must place the best of his successors. We have only to compare him with Le Sage or Fielding to judge of his vast su- periority. To Scott, indeed, he must yield in the variety of his power ; but in the line of comic romance we should hardly think Scott his equal. 51. The moral novels of Cervantes, as he calls them (Novellas Exem- Minor novels plares), are written, I believe, orcervantes. in a good style, but too short, and con- structed with too little artifice to rivet our interest. Their simplicity otimr nov- and truth, as in many of the c!s: Spanish old novels, have a certain charm ; but in the present age, our sense of satiety in works of iiction cannot be. overcome but by excellence. Of the Spanish comic ro- mances in the picaresque style, several re- main : Justina was the most famous. One that does not strictly belong to this lower class is the Marcos de Obregon of Espinel. This is supposed to have suggested much to Le Sage in Gil Bias ; in fact, the first story we meet with is that of Mergellina, the physician's wife. The style, though not dull, wants the grace and neatness of Le Sage. This is esteemed one of the best novels that Spain has pro- , i -I IA i i .1 ""*' tuition. duced. Italy was no longer the seat of this literature. A romance of chivalry by Marini (not the poet of that name), entitled II Caloandro (1640), was translated but indifferently into French by Scuderi, and has been praised by Salfi as full of imagination, with characters skil- fully diversified, and an interesting, well- conducted story.* 52 France in the sixteenth century, content with Amadis de Gaul and French the numerous romances of the romances- Spanish school, had contributed Astree ' * Salfi, vol. xiv., p. 88. LITERATURE OF EUROPE very little to that literature. But now she had native writers of both kinds, the pastoral and heroic, who completely su- perseded the models they had before them. Their earliest essay was the Astree of D'Urfe. Of this pastoral romance the first volume was published in 1610 ; the second in 1620 ; three more came slowly forth, that the world might have due leisure to admire. It contains about 5500 pages. It would be almost as discreditable to have read such a book through at present, as it was to be ignorant of it in the age of Lou- is XIII. Allusions, however, to real cir- cumstances served, in some measure, to lessen the insipidity of a love-story, which seems to equal any in absurdity and want of interest. The style, and I can judge no farther, having read but a few pages, seems easy and not unpleasing ; but the pastoral tone is insufferably puerile, and a monotonous solemnity makes us almost suspect that one source of its popularity was its gentle effect, when read in small portions before retiring to rest. It was, nevertheless, admired by men of erudi- tion like Camus and Huet, or even by men of the world like Rochefoucault.f 53. From the union of the old chival- rous romance with this newer Heroic ro- , , mances. style, the courtly pastoral, sprang Comber- another kind of fiction, the French heroic romance. Three nearly contemporary writers, Gomberville, Cal- prenede, Scuderi, supplied a number of voluminous stories, frequently historical in some of their names, but utterly desti- tute of truth in circumstances, characters, and manners. Gomberville led the way in his Polexandre, first published in 1632, and reaching in later editions to about 6000 pages. " This," says a modern wri- ter, " seems to have been the model of the works of Calprenede and Scuderi. This ponderous work may be regarded as a sort of intermediate production between the later compositions and the ancient fa- bles of chivalry. It has, indeed; a close affinity to the heroic romance ; but many of the exploits of the hero are as extrav- agant as those of a paladin or knight of the round table. v f No romance in the language has so complex an intrigue, in- somuch that it is followed with difficulty ; and the author has, in successive editions, capriciously remodelled parts of his story, which is wholly of his own invention. J 54. Calprenede, a poet of no contempt- caiprentde. Me powers of imagination, pour- ed forth his stores of rapid m- * Dunlop's History of Fiction, vol. iii, p. ]84 Biographic Universclle. Bouterwek, vol. v., p. 295 t Dunlop, iii., 230. } Biogr. Univ. vention in several romances more cele- brated than that of Gomberville. The first, whicli is contained in ten octavo volumes, is the Cassandra. This ap- peared in 1642, and was followed by the Cleopatra, published, according to the cus- tom of romancers, in successive parts, the earliest in 1646. La Harpe thinks this unquestionably the best work of Calpre- nede ; Bouterwek seems to prefer the Cassandra. Pharamond is not wholly his own ; five out of twelve volumes be- long to one De Vaumoriere, a continua- tor.* Calprenede, like many others, had but a life-estate in the temple of fame ; and, more happy, perhaps, than greater men, lived out the whole favour of the world, which, having been largely show- ered on liis head, strewed no memorials on his grave. It became, soon after his death, through the satire of Boileau and the influence of a new style in fiction, a Ynatter of course to turn him into ridicule. It is impossible that his romances should be read again ; but those who, for the purposes of general criticism, have gone back to these volumes, find not a little to praise in his genius, and, in some meas- ure, to explain his popularity. " Calpre- nede," says Bouterwek, " belonged to the extravagant part}-, which endeavoured to give a triumph to genius at the expense of taste, and by that very means played into the hands of the opposite parly, which saw'nothing so laudable as the observa- tion of the rules which taste prescribed. We have only to become acquainted with any one of the prolix romances of Cal- prenede such, for instance, as the Cas- sandra to see clearly the spirit which animates the whole invention. We find there, again, the heroism of chivalry, the enthusiastic raptures of love, the struggle of duty with passion, the victory of mag- nanimity, sincerity, and humanity, over force, fraud, and barbarism, in the genuine characters and circumstances of romance. The events are skilfully interwoven, and a truly poetical keeping belongs to the whole, however extended it may be. The diction of Calprenede is a little monoto- nous, but not at all trivial, and seldom af- fected. It is, like that of old romance, grave, circumstantial, somewhat in the chronicle style, but picturesque, agreea- ble, full of sensibility and simplicity. Many passages might, if versified, find a place in the most beautiful poem of this class."! 55. The honours of this romantic liter- ature have long been shared by the female Dunlop, iii., 259. t Bouterwek, vi., 230. FROM 1500 TO 1650. 237 Scuderi. sex In the age of Richelieu and I old chivalrous romance. She, like Cal- Mazarin, this was represented by Mademoiselle de Scuderi, a name very glorious for a season, but which, unfortu- nately, did not, like that of Calprenede, prenede, had derived from this source the predominant characteristics of her per- sonages, an exalted generosity, a disdain of all selfish considerations, a courage continue to be sucli during the whole life- j which attempts impossibilities and is re time of her who bore it. The old age of j warded by achieving them, a love outra- .Maderaoiselle de Scuderi was ignomin- geously hyperbolical in pretence, yet in- 'iously treated by the pitiless Boileau ; j trinsically without passion; all, in short and, reaching more than her ninetieth that Cervantes has bestowed on Don year, she almost survived her only off- j Quixote. Love, however, or its counter- spring, those of her pen. In her youth feit, gallantry, plays a still more leading she had been the associate of the Ram- part in the French romance than in its bouillet circle, and caught, perhaps, in Castilian prototype ; the feats of heroes, some measure, from them what she gave I though not less wonderful, are less prom- back with interest, a tone of perpetual af- 1 inent on the canvass, and a metaphysical fectation and a pedantic gallantry, which ! pedantry replaces the pompous metaphors could not withstand the first approach of I in which the knight of sorrowful counte- ridicule. Her first romance was Ibrahim, published in 1635 ; but the more celebra- ted were the Grand Cyrus and the Clelie. Each of these two romances is in ten vol- umes.* The persons chiefly connected with the Hotel Rambouillct sat for their pictures, as Persians or Babylonians, in Cyrus. Julie d'Angenncs herself bore the name of Artenice, by which she was afterward distinguished among her friends; , and it is a remarkable instance, not only of the popularity of these romances, but of the respectful sentiment which, from the elevation and purity no one can deny them to exhibit, was always associated in the gravest persons with their fictions, nance had taken so much delight. The approbation of many persons, far better judges than Don Quixote, makes it im- possible to doubt that the romances of Calprenede and Scuderi were better than his library. But, as this is the least pos- sible praise, it will certainly not tempt any one away from the rich and varied repast of fiction which the last and present cen- tury have spread before him. Mademoi- selle de Scuderi has perverted history still more than Calprenede, and changed her Romans into languishing Parisians. It is not to be forgotten, that the taste of her party, though it did not, properly speak- ing, infect Corneille, compelled him to that a prelate of eminent taste and elo- : weaken some of his tragedies. And this quence, Flechier, in his funeral sermon must be the justification of Boileau's cut- on this lady, calls her " the incomparable ting ridicule upon tins truly estimable Artenice. "f Such an allusion would ap- woman. She had certainly kept up a pear to us misplaced; but we may pre- tone of severe and high morality, with sume that it was not so thought. Scu- which the aristocracy of Paris could ill deri's romances seem to have been re- j dispense ; but it was one not difficult to markably the favourites of the clergy ; j feign, and there might be Tartufies of Huet, Mascaron, Godeau, as much Flechier, were her ardent admirers. find," says the second of these, one of the chief ornaments of the French pulpit, in writing to Mademoiselle de Scuderi, " so much in your works calculated to reform the world, that in the sermons I am now preparing for the court, you will often be on my table by the side of St. Augustin and St. Bernard."); In the writings of this lady we see the last footstep of the * Biogr. Univ. Dunlop. Bouterwek. t Sermons de Flechier, ii., 325 (edit. 1690). But probably Bossuet would not have stooped to this allusion. t Biogr. Univ. Mademoiselle de Sender! was not gifted by nature with beauty, or, as this biogra- pher more bluntly says, etoit d'un extreme laideur. She would probably have wished this to have been otherwise, out carried off the matter very well, as appears by her epigram on her own picture by Nan- teuil: sentiment as well as of religion. "What- ever is false in taste is apt to be allied to what is insincere in character. 50. The Argenis of Barclay, a son of the defender of royal authority Argenis of against republican theories, is a "arc-lay. Latin romance, superior to those which the Spanish or French language could boast. It has, indeed, always been reck- oned among political allegories. That the state of France, in the last years of Henry III., is partially shadowed in it, can admit of no doubt; several characters are fatnfly veiled, either by anagram or Greek translation of their names; but, whether to avoid the insipidity of servile allegory, or to excite the reader by per- Nanteuil, en faisant mon image, A de son art divin signalo le ppuyoir: Je hais rnes yeux dans mon miroir, Je les aime dans son ouvrage '238 plexity, Barclay has mingled so much of mere 'fiction with his story, that no at- tempts at, a regular key to the whole work can be successful, nor, in fact, does the fable of this romance run in any parallel stream with real events. His object seems, in great measure, to have been the discussion of political questions in feigned dialogue. But, though in these we find no want of acuteness or good sense, they have not, at present, much novelty in our eyes ; and, though the style is really pleasing, or, as some have judged, excel- lent,* and the incidents not ill-contrived, it might be hard to go entirely through a Latin romance of 700 pages, unless, in- deed, we had no alternative given but the perusal of the similar works in Spanish or French. The Argenis was published at Rome in 1622 : some of the personages introduced by Barclay are his own con- temporaries ; a proof that he did not in- tend a strictly historical allegory of the His EU- events of the last age. The Eu- piiormio. phormio of the same author re- sembles, in some degree, the Argenis, but, with less of story and character, has a more direct reference to European poli- tics. It contains much political disquisi- tion, and one whole book is employed in a description of the manners and laws of different countries, with no disguise of names. 57. Campanella gave a loose to his fan- Campanei- Cl ^ humour in a fiction, entitled la's city of the City of the Sun, published at the sun. Frankfort in 1623, in imitation, perhaps, of the Utopia. The City of the Sun is supposed to stand upon a mountain situated in Ceylon, under the equator. A community of goods and women is estab- lished in this republic ; the principal ma- gistrate of which is styled Sun, and is elected after a strict examination in all kinds of science. Campanella has brought in so much of his own philosophical sys- tem, that we may presume that to have been the object of this romance. The Solars, he tells us, abstained at first from flesh, because they thought it cruel to kill animals. " But afterward, considering that it would be equally cruel to kill plants, which are not less endowed with sensation, so that they must perish by famine, they understood that ignoble * Coleridge has pronounced an ardent, and rath- er excpssive eulogy on the language of the Argenis, preferring it to that of Li vy or Tacitus. Coleridge's Remains, vol. i., p. 257. I cannot by any means go this length ; it has struck me that the Latinity is more that of Petronius Arbiter, but 1 am not well enough acquainted with this writer to speak confi- dently. The same observation seems applicable to the Euphormio. [ things were created for the use of nobler i things, and now eat all things without | scruple." Another Latin romance had I some celebrity in its day, the Monarchia ! Solipsorum, a satire on the Jesuits in the fictitious name of Lucius Cornelius Euro- peus. It has been ascribed to more than one person ; the probable author is one Scotti, who had himself belonged to the - order.* This book did not seem to me in the least interesting; if it is so in any de- gree, it must be not as mere fiction, but as a revelation of secrets. 58. It is not so much an extraordinary as an unfortunate deficiency in F ewbooks our own literary annals, that or fiction in England should have been desti- En land - tute of the comic romance, or that derived from real life, to a late period ; since, in fact, we may say the same, as has been seen, of France. The picaresque novels of Spain were thought well worthy of translation ; but it occurred to no one, or no one had the gift of genius, to shift the scene, and imitate their delineation of na- tive manners. Of how much value would have been a genuine English novel, the mirror of actual life in the various ranks of society, written under Elizabeth or un- der the Stuarts ! We should have seen. if the execution had not been very coarse, and the delineation absolutely confined to low characters, the social habits of our forefathers better than by all our other sources of that knowledge, the plays, the letters, the traditions and anecdotes, the pictures or buildings of the time. Not- withstanding the interest all profess to take in the history of manners, our no- tions of them are generally meager and imperfect ; and hence modern works of fiction are but crude and inaccurate de- signs when they endeavour to represent the living England of two centuries since. Even Scott, who had a fine instinctive perception of truth and nature, and who had read much, does not appear to have seized the genuine tone of conversation, and to have been a little misled by the style of Shakspeare. This is rather elab- orate, and removed from vulgar use by a sort of archaism in phrase and a pointed turn in the dialogue, adapted to theatrical utterance, but wanting the ease of ordina- ry speech. 59. I can only produce two books by English authors, in this first part Mundas A1 . of the seventeenth century, ter ct idem which fall properly under the ofHa11 - class of novels or romances ; and of these * Biogr. Univ., arts. Scotti and Inchoffer. Nice- ron, vols. xxxv. and xxxix. FROM 1COO TO 1G50. one is written in Latin. This is the Mun- dus Alter 'et Idem of Bishop Hall, an imi- tation of the latter and weaker volumes of Rabelais. A country in Terra Austra- lia is divided into four regions, Crapulia, Viraginia, Moronea, and Lavernia. Maps of the whole land, and of particular re- gions, are given ; and the nature of the satire, not much of which has any espe- cial reference to England, may easily be collected, it is not a very successful ef- l fort. 60. Another prelate, or one who became tioJ win's such, Francis Godwin, was the journey to author of a much more curious the Moon. story _ j t is ( .. l ]] Cfl th( , Man in the Moon, and relates the journey of one Domingo Gonzalez to that planet. This was written by (i:>d\vin, according to An- tony Wood, while he was a student at Oxford.* By some internal proofs, it must have been later than 15!)9, and be- fore the death of .Elizabeth in 1603. But it was not published till 1G38. It was translated into French, and became the model of Cyrano de Bergerac, as he was of Swift. Godwin himself had no proto- type, as fir as 1 know, but Lucian. Me resembles those writers in the natural and veracious tone of his lies. The fiction is rather ingenious and amusing throughout ; but the most remarkable part is the Inpny conjectures, if we must say no more, of his philosophy. Not only does the writer declare positively for the Copernican sys- tem, which was uncommon at that time, but he lias surprisingly understood the principle of gravitation, it being distinctly supposed 1 ;:;it the earth's attraction dimin- ishes with the distance. Nor is the fol- lowing passage less curious. " I must let you understand that the globe of the moon is not altogether destitute of an attractive power ; but it is far weaker than that of the earth ; as, if a man do but spring up- ward with all his force, as dancers do when they show their activity by caper- ing, he shall be able to mount fifty or sixty feet high, and then he is quite beyond all attraction of the moon." By this device Gonzalez returns from his sojourn in the latter, though it required a more complex device to bring him thither. " The moon," he observes, " is covered with a sea, ex- cept the parts which seem somewhat * Athense Oxonienses, vol. ii.. col. 558. It is re- markable that Mr. Dunlop has been ignorant of Godwin's claim to this work, and takes Dominic Gonzalez for the real author. Hist, of Fiction, iii., darker to us. and are dry land." A con- trary hypothesis came afterward to pre- vail ; but we must not expect everything from our ingenious young student. 61. Though I can mention nothing else in English which comes exactly Howcll , 8 within our notions of a romance, ]>oii.>naN we may advert to the Dodona's Grove - Grove of James Howell. This is a strange allegory, without any ingenuity in maintaining the analogy between the outer and inner story, which alone can give a reader any pleasure in allegorical writing. The subject is the state of Eu- rope, especially of England, about 1640, under the guise of animated trees in a forest. The style is like the following: li The next morning the royal olive sent some prime elms to attend Prince Roco- lino in quality of officers of state ; and a little after he was brought to the royal palace in the same state Elaiana's kings use to be attended the day of their coro- nation." The contrivance is all along so clumsy and unintelligible ; the invention so poor and absurd ; the story, if story there be, so dull an echo of well-known events, that it is impossible to reckon Dodona's Grove anything but an entire failure. Howell has no wit, but he has abundance of conceits, flat and commonplace enough. With all this, he was a man of some sense and observation. His letters are enter- taining, but they scarcely deserve consid- eration in this volume. 6-2. It is very possible that some small works belonging to this extensive Ach-cnm class have been omitted, which of Baron da my readers, or myself on second Ficnesle - consideration, might think not unworthy of notice. It is also one so miscellane- ous, that we might fairly doubt as to some which have a cc 'tain claim to be admitted into it. Such are the Adventures of the Baron de Freneste, by the famous Agrippa d'Aubigne (whose autobiography, by-the- way, has at least the liveliness of fiction) ; a singular book, written in dialogue, where an imaginary Gascon baron recounts his tales of the camp and the court. He is made to speak a patois not quite easy for us to understand, and not, perhaps, worth the while ; but it seems to contain much that illustrates the state of France about the beginning of the seventeenth century. Much in this book is satirical; and the satire falls on the Catholics, whom Fa>- neste, a mere foolish gentleman of Gas- cony, is made to defend against an acuto Huguenot. 240 LITERATURE OF EUROPE CHAPTER VIII. HISTORY OF MATHEMATICAL AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE FROM 1600 TO 1650. SECTION I. Invention of Logarithms by Napier. New Geome- try of Kepler and Cavalien. Algebra. Harriott. Dsscartes. Astronomy. Kepler. Galileo. Copernican System begins to prevail. Cartesian Theory of the World. Mechanical Discoveries of Galileo. Descartes. Hydrostatics. Optics. 1. IN the first volume of this work we etatn or sci- have followed the progress of ence in the mathematical and physical sci- 16(11 century. ence d(mn to the c]ose of the sixteenth century. The ancient geome- ters had done so much in their own prov- ince of lines and figures, that little more of importance could be effected, except by new methods extending the limits of the science, or derived from some other source of invention. Algebra had yielded a more abundant harvest to the genius of the sixteenth century ; yet something here seemed to be wanting to give that science a character of utility and refer- ence to general truth ; nor had the for- mulas of letters and radical Signs that perceptible beauty which often wins us to delight in geometrical theorems of as lit- tle apparent usefulness in their results. Meanwhile, the primary laws, to which all mathematical reasonings, in their relation to physical science, must be accommoda- ted, lay hidden, or were erroneously con- ceived ; and none of these sciences, with the exception of astronomy, were beyond their mere infancy, either as to observa- tion or theory.* 2. Astronomy, cultivated in the latter Tediousness part of the sixteenth century or caicuis- with much industry and suc- Uons- cess, was repressed, among oth- er more insuperable obstacles, by the la- borious calculations it required. The trigonometrical tables of sines, tangents, and secants, if they were to produce any tolerable accuracy in astronomical obser- vation, must be computed to six or seven places of decimals, upon which the regu- lar processes of multiplication and divis- ion were perpetually to be employed. The consumption of time, as well as risk of error which this occasioned, was a se- rious evil to the practical astronomer. * In this chapter, my obligations to Montucla are so continual, that 1 shall make no single reference to his Histoire de Mathematiqnes, which must be ierstood to be my principal authority. 3. John Napier, laird of Merchiston, after several attempts to diminish this . labour by devices of his invention, invention was happy enough to discover of lo^a- his famous method of logarithms. mhins - This he first published at Edinburgh in 1614. with the title, Logarithmorutn Can- onis Descriptio, seu Arithmeticarum Sup- putationum Mirabilis Abbreviatio. He died in 1618 ; and in a posthumous edition, entitled Mirifici Logarithmorum Canonis Descriptio, 1618. the method of construc- tion, which had been at first withheld, is given ; and the system itself, in conse- quence, perhaps, of the suggestion of his friend Briggs, underwent some change. '4. The invention of logarithms is one of the rarest instances of sagacity Their na- in the history of mankind ; and it (ure - has been justly noticed as remarkable, that it issued complete from the mind of its author, and has not received any im- provement since his time. It is hardly necessary to say, that logarithms are a series of numbers, arranged in tables par- allel to the series of natural numbers, and of such a construction, that, by adding the logarithms of two of the latter, we ob- tain the logarithm of their product ; by subtracting the logarithm of one number from that of another, we obtain that of their quotient. The longest processes, therefore, of multiplication and division are spared, and reduced to one of mere addition or subtraction. 5. It has been supposed that an arith- metical fact, said to be mention- Property of ed by Archimedes, and which is numbers dis- certainly pointed out in the work ?. ov r ei : ed bv ',/-, -.. UT- Sfifeliiw. of an early German writer, Mi- chael Stifelius, put Napier in the right course for this invention. It will, at least, serve to illustrate the principle of loga- rithms. Stifelius shows that if, in a geo- metrical progression, we add the indices of any terms in the series, we shall obtain the index of the products of those terms. Thus, if we compare the geometrical pro- gression, 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, with the arithmetical one which numbers the pow- ers of the common ratio, namely, 0, 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, we see that, by adding two terms of the latter progression, as 2 and 3, to which 4 and 8 correspond in the geometri- cal series, we obtain 5, to which 32, the FROM 1600 TO 1650. 241 product of 4 by 8, corresponds ; and the quotient would be obtained in a similar manner. But though this, whicl becomes self-evident when algebraical expressions are employed for the terms of a series, seemed at the time rather a curious prop- erty of numbers in geometrical progres- sion, it was of little value in facilitating calculation. 6. If Napier had simply considered num- Extended to bers in themselves as repeti- magnitudes, tions of unity, which is their only intelligible definition, it does not seem that he could ever have carried this observation upon progressive series any farther. Nu- merically understood, the terms of a geo- metrical progression proceed per saltum ; and in the series 2, 4, 8, 16, it is as un- meaning to say that 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, in any possible sense, have a place, or can be in- troduced to any purpose, as that |, 1, i, T ' ? , or other fractions are true numbers at all.* The case, however, is widely different when we use numbers as merely the signs of something capable of continuous in- crease or decrease ; of space, of duration, of velocity. These are, for our conve- nience, divided by arbitrary intervals, to which the numerical unit is made to cor- respond. But as these intervals are indefi- nitely divisible, the unit is supposed capa- ble of division into fractional parts, each of them a representation of the ratio which a portion of the interval bears to the whole. And thus, also, we must see, that as fractions of the unit bear a relation to uniform quantity, so all the integral num- bers, which do not enter into the terms of a geometrical progression, correspond to certain portions of variable quantity. If a body failing down an inclined plane ac- quires a velocity at one point which would carry it through two feet in a second, and at a lower point one which would carry it through four feet in the same time, there must, by the nature of a continually ac- * Few hooks of arithmetic, or even algebra, as far as I know, draw the reader's attention at the outset to this essential distinction between discrete and continuous quantity, which is sure to be over- looked in all their subsequent reasonings. Wallis has done it very well ; after stating very clearly that there are no proper numbers but integers, he meets the objection, that fractions are called inter- mediate numbers. Concedo quidem sic responderi posse ; concedo etiam numeros quos fractos vocant, eive fractiones. esse quidam uni et nulli quasi inter- ruedios. Sec' addo, quod jam transitur us a\\o ytvo;. Kespondetr.r enim non de quot, se.d de auanto. Portinet ieitur hasc responsio proprie loquendo, non tarn ad quantitatem discretam, sen numerurn, quam ad contmuain ; prout hora supponitiir esse quid continuum- in partes dtvisibile, quamvis quidem harum partium ad totum ratio numeris exprimatur. Mathesis Universalis, c. 1. VOL. II. II K celerated motion, be some point between these where the velocity might be repre- sented by the number three. Hence, wherever the numbers of a common geo- metrical series, like 2, 4, 8, 16, represent velocities at certain intervals, the inter- mediate numbers will represent velocities at intermediate intervals ; and thus it may be said that all numbers are terms of a geometrical progression, but one which should always be considered as what it is : a progression of continuous, not dis- crete quantity, capable of being indicated by number, but not number itself. 7. It was a necessary consequence, that if all numbers could he treated as terms of a progression, and if : their indices could be found like those of an ordinary series, the method of finding products of terms by addition of indices would be universal. The means that Na- pier adopted for this purpose were sur- prisingly ingenious ; but it would be diffi- cult to make them clear to those who are likely to require it, especially without the use of lines. It may suffice to say that his process was laborious in the highest degree, consisting of the interpolation of 6931472 mean proportionals between 1 and 2, and repeating a similar and still more tedious operation for all prime numbers. The logarithms of other numbers were easily obtained, according to the funda- mental principle of the invention, by add- ing their factors. Logarithms appear to have been so called, because they are the sum of these mean ratios, Aoywv apiO/wc;. 8. In the original tables of Napier the logarithm of 10 was 3.0225850. Tables or In those which were published Napier and afterward (1618), he changed this **"<&* for 1.0000000, making, of course, that of 100, 2.0000000, and so forth. This con- struction has been followed since ; but those of the first method are not wholly neglected; they are called hyperbolical logarithms, from expressing a property of that curve. Napier found a coadjutor well worthy of him in Henry Briggs, professor of geometry at Gresham College. It is un- certain from which of them the change in the form of logarithms proceeded. Briggs, in 1618, published a table of logarithms up to 1000, calculated by himself. This was followed in 1624 by his greater work, Arithmetica Logarithmica, containing the logarithms of all natural numbers as high as 20.000, and again from 90,000 to 100,000. These are calculated to fourteen places of decimals, thus reducing the error, which, strictly speaking, must always ex- ist from the principle of logarithmical con struction, to an almost infinitesimal frac- 242 LITERATURE OF EUROPE tion. He had designed to publish a second table, with the logarithms of sines and tangents to the 100th part of a degree. This he left in a considerably advanced state ; and it was published by Gellibrand in 1633. Gunter had, as early as 1620, given the logarithms of sines and tangents on the sexagesimal scale as far as seven decimals. Vlacq,aDutch bookseller, print- ed in 1628 j. translation of Briggs's Arith- metica Logarithmica, filling up the interval from 20,000 to 90.000 with logarithms cal- culated to eleven decimals. He published, also, in 1633, his Trigonometrica Artificia- lis, the most useful work, perhaps, that had appeared, as it incorporated the la- bours of Briggs and Gellibrand, but with no great regard to the latter's fair advan- tage. Kepler came like a master to the subject ; and observing that some foreign mathematicians disliked the theory upon which Napier had explained the nature of logarithms, as not rigidly geometrical, gave one of his own to which they could not object. But it may probably be said that the very novelty to which the disci- ples of the ancient geometry were averse, the introduction of the notion of velocity into mathematical reasoning, was that which linked the abstract science of quan- tity with nature, and prepared the way for that expansive theory of infinites which bears at once upon the subtlest truths that can exercise the understanding, and the most evident that can fall under the senses. 9. It was, indeed, at this time that the Kepler's new modern geometry, which, if it geometry. deviates something from the clearness and precision of the ancient, has incomparably the advantage over it in its reach of application, took its rise. Kepler was the man that led the way. He pub- lished in 1615 his Nova Stereometria Do- liorum, a treatise on the capacity of casks. In this he considers the various solids which may be formed by the revolution of a segment of a conic section round a line which is not its axis, a condition not unfrequent in the form of a cask. Many of the problems which he starts he is un- able to solve. But what is most remark- able in this treatise is, that he here sug- gests the bold idea that a circle may be deemed to be composed of an infinite num- ber of triangles, having their bases in the circumference, and their common apex in the centre ; a cone, in like manner, of in- finite pyramids, and a cylinder of infinite prisms.* The ancients had shown, as is well known, that a polygon inscribed in a circle, and another described about it, may, by continual bisection of their sides, be made to approach nearer to each other than any assignable differences. The circle itself lay, of course, between them. Euclid contents himself with saying that the circle is greater than any polygon that can be inscribed in it, and less than any polygon that can be described about it. The method by which they approximated to the curve space by continual increase or diminution of the rectilineal figure was called exhaustion, and the space itself is properly called, by later geometers, the limit. As curvilineal and rectilineal spaces cannot possibly be compared by means of superposition, or by showing that their several constituent portions could be made to coincide, it had long been acknowledged impossible by the best geometers to quad- rate by a direct process any curve surface. j But Archimedes had found, as to the para- ! bola, that there was a rectilineal space, of ! which he could indirectly demonstrate | that it was equal, that is, could not be un- equal, to the curve itself. 10. In this state of the general problem, the ancient methods of indefinite Its Differ, approximation having prepared ence from the way, Kepler came to his solu- the anclem - tion of questions which regarded the ca- pacity of vessels. According to Fabroni, he supposed solids to consist of an infinite number of surfaces, surfaces of an infinity of lines, lines of infinite points.* If this be strictly true, he must have left little, in point of invention, for Cavalieri. So long as geometry is employed as a method ol logic, an exercise of the understanding on those modifications of quantity which the imagination cannot grasp, such as points, lines, infinites, it must appear almost an offensive absurdity to speak of a circle as a polygon with an infinite number of sides. But when it becomes the handmaid of practical art, or even of physical science, there can be no other objection than al- ways arises from incongruity and incor- rectness of language. It has been found possible to avoid the expressions attributed to Kepler; but they seem to denote, in fact, nothing more than those of Euclid or Archimedes : that the difference be- tween a magnitude and its limit may be regularly diminished, till, without strictly Fabroni, Vitee Ita'orum, i., 272. * Idem quoque solida cogitavit ex infinite numero superficierum existere, superficies aiitem ex lineis infinitis, ac lineis ex infinitis punctis. Ostendit ipse quantum ea ratione brevior fieri via possit ad vera quoedam captu difficiliora, cum antiquarum demonstrationnm circuitus ac methodus inter ^e comparand! figuras circumscriptas et inscriptas iis planis aut soliriis, quse mensuranda essent, ita de- clinarentur. Ibid. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 243 vanishing, it becomes less than any as- signable quantity, and may consequently be disregarded in reasoning upon actual bodies. 11. Galileo, says Fabroni, trod in the Adopted by steps of Kepler, and in his first Galileo. dialogue on mechanics, when treating on a cylinder cut out of a hemi- sphere, became conversant with indivisi- bles (familiarem habere ccepit cum indivisi- bilibus usum). But in that dialogue he con- fused the metaphysical notions of divisible quantity, supposing it to be composed of unextended indivisibles ; and, not ventu- ring to affirm that infinites could be equal or unequal to one another, he preferred to say that words denoting equality or ex- cess could only be used as to finite quan- tities. In his fourth dialogue on the centre of gravity, he comes back to the exhaust- ive method of Archimedes.* 12. Cavalieri, professor of mathematics Extended by at Bologna, the generally repu- Cavaiieri. ted father of the new geometry, though Kepler seems to have so greatly an- ticipated him, had completed his method of indivisibles in 1626. The book was not published till 1835. His leading principle is, that solids are composed of an infinite number of surfaces, placed one above an- other as their indivisible elements. Sur- faces are formed in like manner by lines, and lines by points. This, however, he asserts with some excuse and explana- tion ; declaring that he does not use the words so strictly as to have it supposed that divisible quantities truly and literally consist of indivisibles, but that the ratio of solids is the same as that of an infinite number of surfaces, and that of surfaces the same as of an infinite number of lines ; and, to put an end to cavil, he demonstra- ted that the same consequences would follow if a method should be adopted bor- rowing nothing from the consideration of indivisibles.! This explanation seems to * Fabroni, Vita; Italorum. i., 272. t Non eo rigore a se voces adhiberi, ac si dividuae quantitates vere ac proprie ex indivisibilibus existe- rent ; verumtarnen id sibi duntaxat velle, ut propor- tio solidorum eadem esset ac ratio superficierum omnium nurnero infinitarum, et proportio superfi- cierum eadem ac ilia infinitarum linearum : denique ut omnia, quae contra dici poterant, in radice praeci- deret, demonstravit, easdem omnino consecutiones erui, si methodi aut rationes adhiberentur omnino diversoe, qua? nihil ab indivisibilium consideratione penderent. Fabroni. II n'est aucun cas dans la geometric des indivisi- bles, qu'on ne puisse facilement reduire h. la forme ancienne de demonstration. Ainsi, c'est s'arr4ter a 1'ecorce que de chicaner sur le mot d'indivisibles. 11 est impropre si 1'on veut, mais il n'en resulte au- cun danger pour la geometric ; et loin de conduire a 1'erreur, cette methode, au contraire, a ete utile pour atteindre a des v^rites qui avoient 6chappe have been given after his method had been attacked by Guldin in 1640. 13. It was a main object of Cavalieri's geometry to demonstrate the pro- Applied to portions of different solids. This 'be ratios is partly done by Euclid, but gen- of solids - e rally in an indirect manner. A cone, ac- cording to Cavalieri, is composed of an in- finite number of circles decreasing from the base to the summit, a cylinder of an infinite number of equal circles. He seeks, therefore, the ratio of the sum of all the former to that of all the latter. The method of summing an infinite series of terms in arithmetical progression was already known. The diameters of the circles in the cone, decreasing uniformly, were in arithmetical progression, and the circles would be as their squares. He found that when the number of terms is infinitely great, the sum of all the squares described on lines in arithmetical pro- gression is exactly one third of the great- est square multiplied by the nutnber of terms. Hence the cone is one third of a cylinder of the same base and altitude, and the same may be shown of other solids. 14. This bolder geometry was now very generally applied in difficult in- Problem or vestigations. A proof was given the cycloid, in the celebrated problems relative to the cycloid, which served as a test of skill to the mathematicians of that age. The cy- cloid is the curve described by a point in a circle, while it makes one revolution along a horizontal base, as in the case of a carriage-wheel. It was far more diffi- cult to determine its area. It was at first taken for the segment of a circle. Galileo considered it, but with no success. Mer- senne, who was also unequal to the prob- lem, suggested it to a very good geome- ter, Roberval, who, after some years, in 1634, demonstrated that the area of the cycloid is equal to thrice the area of the generating circle. Mersenne communi- cated this discovery to Descartes, who, treating the matter as easy, sent a short demonstration of his own. On Rober- val's intimating that he had been aided by a knowledge of the solution, Descartes found out the tangents of the curve, and challenged Roberval and Fermat to do the same. Fermat succeeded in this ; but Roberval could not achieve the problem, in which Galileo also and Cavalieri fail- ed ; though it seems to have been solved afterward by Viviani. " Such," says Mon- tucla, " was the superiority of Descartes over all the geometers of his age, that jusqu'alors aux efforts des geometres.-^Montucla, vol. ii , p. 39. 244 LITERATURE OF EUROPE questions which most perplexed them caused him but an ordinary degree of at- tention." In this problem of the tan- gents (and it might not. perhaps, have been worth while to mention it otherwise in so brief a sketch), Descartes made use of the principle introduced by Kepler, considering the curve as a polygon of an infinite number of sides, so that an infi- nitely small arc is equal to its chord. The cycloid has been called by Montucla the Helen of geometers. This beauty was at least the cause of war, and produced a long controversy. The Italians claim the original invention as their own ; but Mon- tucla seems to have vindicated the right of France to every solution important in geometry. Nor were the friends of Ro- berval and Fermat disposed to acknowl- edge so much of the exclusive right of Descartes as was challenged by his disci- ples. Pascal, in his history of the cy- cloid, enters the lists on the side of Ro- berval. This was not published till 1658. 15. Without dwelling more minutely on Progress of geometrical treatises of less im- aigebra. portance, though in themselves valuable, such as that of Gregory St. Vin- cent in 1647, or the Cyclometricus of Willebrod Snell in 1621, we come to the progress of analysis during this period. The works of Vieta, it may be observed, were chiefly published after the year 1600. They left, as must be admitted, not much in principle for the more splendid gener- alizations of Harriott and Descartes. It is not unlikely that the mere employment of a more perfect notation would have led the acute mind of Vieta to truths which seem to us who are acquainted with them but a little beyond what he discov- ered. 16. Briggs,in his Arithmetica Logarith- Briggs. mica, was the first who clearly sho w- Girard. e( j w hat is called the Binomial The- orem, or a compendious method of invo- lution, by means of the necessary order of coefficients in the successive powers of a binomial quantity. Cardan had par- tially, and Vieta much more clearly, seen this, nor was it likely to escape one so observant of algebraic relations as the lat- ter. Albert Girard, a Dutchman, in his Invention Nouvelle en Algebre, 1629, con- ceived a better notion of negative roots than his predecessors. Even Vieta had not paid attention to them in any solution. Girard, however, not only assigns their form, and shows that in a certain class of cubic equations there must always be one or two of this description, but uses this remarkable expression : " A negative so- lution means, in geometry, that the minus recedes as the plus advances."* It seems manifest that, till some such idea sug- gested itself to the minds of analysts, the consideration of negative roots, though they could not possibly avoid perceiving their existence, would merely have con- fused their solutions. It cannot, there- fore, be surprising, that not only Cardan and Vieta, but Harriott himself, should have disregarded them. 17. Harriott, the companion of Sir Wal- ter Raleigh in Virginia, and the Harriotu friend of the Earl of Northumber- land, in whose house he spent the latter part of his life, was destined to make the last great discovery in the pure science of algebra. Though he is mentioned here after Girard, since the Artis Analyticae Praxis was not published till 1631, this was ten years after the author's death. Harriott arrived at a complete theory of the genesis of equations, which Cardan and Vieta had but partially conceived. By bringing all the terms on one side, so as to make them equal to zero, he found out that every unknown quantity in an equa- tion has as many values as the index of its powers in the first term denotes ; and that these values, in a necessary sequence of combinations, form the coefficients of the succeeding terms into which the de- creasing powers of the unknown quantity enter, as they do also, by their united prod- uct, the- last or known term of the equa- tion. This discovery facilitated the solu- tion of equations, by the necessary com- positions of their terms which it display- ed. It was evident, for example, that each root of an equation must be a factor, and, consequent^, a divisor, of the last term.f 18. Harriott introduced the use of small letters instead of capitals in algebra; he employed vowels for unknown, conso- nants for known quantities, and joined them to express their product. J There * La solution par moins s'explique en geometric en retrogradant, et le moms recule ou le plus avance. Montucla, p. 112. t Harriott's book is a thin folio of 180 pages, with very little besides examples ; for his principles are shortly and obscurely laid down. Whoever is the author of the preface to this work cannot be said to have suppressed or extenuated the merits of Vie- ta, or to have claimed anything for Harriott but what he is allowed to have deserved. Montucla justly observes, that Harriott very rarely makes an equation equal to zero, by bringing all the quanti- ties to one side of the equation. J: Oughtred, in his Clavis Mathematica, publish- ed in 1631, abbreviated the rules of Vieta, though he still used capital letters. He also gives suc- cinctly the praxis of algebra, or the elementary rules we find in our common books, which, though what are now first learned, were, from the singular course of algebraical history, discovered late. They FROM 1600 TO 1650. 245 is certainly not much in this ; but its evi- dent convenience renders it wonderful that it should have been reserved for so late an era. Wallis, in his History of Algebra, ascribes to Harriott a long list of discov- eries, which have been reclaimed for Car- dan and Vieta, the great founders of the higher algebra, by Cossali and Montucla.* The latter of these writers has been char- ged, even by foreigners, with similar in- justice towards our countryman ; and that he has been provoked by what he thought the unfairness of Wallis to some- thing like a depreciation of Harriott, seems as clear as that he has himself robbed Cardan of part of his due credit in swell- ing the account of Vieta's discoveries. From the general integrity, however, of Montucla's writings, I am much inclined to acquit him of any wilful partiality. 19. Harriott had shown what were the Descartes. nil Wen laws of algebra, as the science of symbolical notation. But one man, the pride of France, and wonder of his contemporaries, was des- tined to flash light upon the labours of the analyst, and to point, out what those symbols, so darkly and painfully traced, and resulting commonly in irrational or even impossible forms, might represent and explain. The use of numbers, or of letters denoting numbers, for lines and rectangles capable of division into aliquot parts, had long been too obvious to be over- looked, and is only a compendious abbre- viation of geometrical proof. The next step made was the perceiving that irra- tional numbers, as they are called, repre- sent incommensurable quantities ; that is, if unity be taken for the side of a square, the square-root of two will represent its diagonal. Gradually the application of numerical and algebraical calculation to the solution of problems respecting mag- nitude became more frequent and refined. f It is certain, however, that no one before Descartes had employed algebraic for- mula in the construction of curves ; that is, had taught the inverse process, not only how to express diagrams by algebra, but how to turn algebra into diagrams. The ancient geometers, he observes, were scrupulous about using the language of arithmetic in geometry, which could only proceed from their not perceiving the re- lation between the two ; and this has pro- are, however, given also by Harriott. Wallisii Al- gebra. * These may be found in the article Harriott of the Biographia Britannica. Wallis, however, does not suppress the honour due to Vieta quite as much as is intimated by Montucla. j- See note in vol. i., p. 392. duced a great deal of obscurity and em- barrassment in some of their demonstra- tions.* 20. The principle which Descartes es- tablishes is, that every curve of H! xi i-i His annli- those which are called geometn- cation or cal has its fundamental equation algebra to expressing the constant relation Cl between the absciss and the ordinate. Thus the rectangle under the abscisses of a diameter of the circle is equal to the square of the ordinate, and the other conic sections, as well as higher curves, have each their leading property, which deter- mines their nature, and shows how they may be generated. A simple equation can only express the relation of straight lines ; the solution of a quadratic must be found in one of the four conic sections ; and the higher powers of an unknown quantity lead to curves of a superior or- der. The beautiful and extensive theory developed by Descartes in this short trea- tise displays a most consummate felicity of genius. That such a man, endowed with faculties so original, should have en- croached on the just rights of others, is what we can only believe with reluctance. 21. It must, however, be owned that, independently of the suspicions Suspected of an unacknowledged appropria- plagiarism tion of what others had thought j Uar - before him, which, unfortunately, hang over all the writings of Descartes, he has taken to himself the whole theory of Harriott on the nature of equations in a manner which, if it is not a remarkable case of simultaneous invention, can only be reckoned a very unwarrantable plagia- rism. For not only he does not name Harriott, but he evidently introduces the subject as an important discovery of his own, and in one of his letters asserts his originality in the most positive language.! * OZuvres de Descartes, v., 323. t Tant s'en faut que les choses que j'ai 6crites puissent etre aisement tirees de Viete, qu'au con traire ce qui est cause que mon traite est difficile & entendre, c'est que j'ai tache a n'y rien inettre que ce que j'ai cru n'avoir point fete 1 su ni par lui ni par aucun autre ; comme on peut voir si on confere ce que j'ai ecrit du nombre des racines qui sont en chaque equation, dans la page 372, qui est 1'endroit oil je commence a donner les regies de mon alge- bre, avec ce que Viete en a 6crit tout a la fin de son livre, De Emendatione ^Equationum ; car on verra que je le determine g6neralement en toutes Equa- tions, an lieu que lui n'en aiant donn6 que quelques exemples particuliers, dont il fait toutefois si grand etat qu'il a voulu conclure son livre par IJk, il a mon tre qu'il ne le pouvoit determiner en general. Et ainsi j'ai commence oQ il avoit acheve\ ce que j'ai fait toutefois sans y penser ; car j'ai plus feuillete Viete depuis que j'ai recu votre derniere que je n'avois jamais fait auparavant, 1'ayant trouye ici par hasard entre les mains d'un de mes amis et 246 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Still it is quite possible that, prepared as the way had been by Vieta, and gifted as Descartes was with a wonderfully intui- tive acuteness in all mathematical reason- ing, he may in this, as in other instances, have struck out the whole theory by him- self. Montucla extols the algebra of Des- cartes, that is, so much of it as can be fairly claimed for him without any pre- cursor, very highly ; and some of his in- ventions in the treatment of equations have long been current in books on that science. He was the first who showed what were called impossible or imagina- ry roots, though he never assigns them, deeming them no quantities at all. He was also, perhaps, the first who fully un- derstood negative roots, though he still retains the appellation false roots, which is not so good as Harriott's epithet, priva- tive. According to his panegyrist, he first pointed out that in every equation (the terms being all on one side) which has no imaginary roots, there are as many chan- ges of signs as positive roots, as many continuations of them as negative. 22. The geometer next in genius to Descartes, and perhaps nearer to him than to any third, was Fermat, a man of various acquirements, of high rank in the Parliament of Toulouse, and of a mind incapable of envy, forgiving of detraction, and delighting in truth, with almost too much indifference to praise. The works of Fermat were not published till long after his death in 1665 ; but his frequent discussions with Descartes, by the intervention of their common corre- spondent, Mersenne, render this place more appropriate for the introduction of his name. In these controversies Des- cartes never behaved to Fermat with the respect due to his talents ; in fact, no one was ever more jealous of his own pre-em- inence, or more unwilling to acknowledge entre nous, je ne trouve pas qu'il en ait tant su que je pensois, non obstant qu'il fut fort habile. This is in a letter to Mersenne in 1637. OSuvres de Descartes, vol. vi., p. 300. The charge of plagiarism from Harriott was brought against Descartes in his lifetime : Rober- val, when an English gentleman showed him the Artis Analytics Praxis, exclaimed eagerly, II 1'a vu ! il 1'a vu ! It is also a very suspicious circum- stance, if true, as it appears to be, that Descartes was in England the year (1631) that Harriott's work appeared. Carcavi, a friend of Roberval, in a letter to Descartes in 1649, plainly intimates to him that he has only copied Harriott as to the nature of equations. CEiavres des Descartes, vol. x., p. 373. To this accusation Descartes made no reply. See Biographia Britannica, art. Harriott. The Riogra- phie Universe! le unfairly suppresses all mention of this, and labours to depreciate Harriott. See Leib- nitz's catalogue of the supposed thefts of Descartes in p. 103 of this volume. the claims of those who scrupled to fol- low him implicitly, and who might in any manner be thought rivals of his fame. Yet it is this unhappy temper of Descar- tes which ought to render us more unwill- ing to credit the suspicions of his design- ed plagiarism from the discoveries of oth- ers ; since this, combined with his unwill- ingness to acknowledge their merits, and affected ignorance of their writings, would form a character we should not readily ascribe to a man of great genius, and whose own writings give many apparent indications of sincerity and virtue. But, in fact, there was in this age a great prob- ability of simultaneous invention in sci- ence from developing principles that had been partially brought to light. Thus Roberval discovered the same method of indivisibles as Cavalieri, and Descartes must equally have been led to his theory of tangents by that of Kepler. Fermat also, who was in possession of his princi- pal discoveries before the geometry of Descartes saw the light, derived from Kepler his own celebrated method, de maximis et minimis ; a method of discov- ering the greatest or least value of a va- riable quantity, such as the ordinate of a curve. It depends on the same principle as that of Kepler. From this he deduced a rule for drawing tangents to curves dif- ferent from that of Descartes. This led to a controversy between the two geome- ters, carried on by Descartes, who yet is deemed to have been in the wrong, with his usual quickness of resentment. Sev- eral other discoveries, both in pure alge- bra and geometry, illustrate the name of Fermat.* 23. The new geometry of Descartes was not received with the uni- A] fibrajc versal admiratipn it deserved, geometry" Besides its conciseness, and the not success- inroad it made on old prejudices fu as to geometrical methods, the general boldness of the author's speculations in physical and metaphysical philosophy, as well as his indiscreet temper, disinclined many who ought to have appreciated it ; and it was in his own country,. where he had ceased to reside, that Descartes had the fewest admirers. Roberval made some objections to his rival's algebra, but with little success. A commentary on the treatise of Descartes, by Schooten, professor of geometry at Leyden, first ap- peared in 1649. 24. Among those who devoted them- selves ardently and successfully to astro- * A good article on Fermat, by M. Maurice, wilJ be found in the Biographic Universelle. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 247 Astronomy : nomical observations at the enc Kepicr. o f the sixteenth century wa John Kepler, a native of Wirtemburg, who had already shown that he was likely to inherit the mantle of Tycho Brahe. He published some astronomical treatises, of comparatively small importance, in the first years of the present period. But ii 1601} he made an epoch in that science by his Astronomia Nova amoAoy^rof, or Com- mentaries on the Planet Mars. It hac been always assumed that the heavenly bodies revolve in circular orbits round their centre, whether this were taken to be the sun or the earth. There was, how- ever, an apparent eccentricity or deviation from this circular motion, which it had been very difficult to explain, and for this Ptolemy had devised his complex system of epicycles. No planet showed more of this eccentricity than Mars ; and it was to Mars that Kepler turned his attention. After many laborious researches, he was brought, by degrees, to the great discov- ery, that the motion of the planets, among which, having adopted the Copernican system, he reckoned the earth, is not per- formed in circular, but in elliptical orbits, the sun not occupying the centre, but one of the foci of the curve ; and, secondly, that it is performed with such a varying velocity, that the areas described by the radius vector, or line which joins this fo- cus to the revolving planet, are always proportional to the times. A planet, there- fore, moves less rapidly as it becomes more distant from the sun. These are the first and second of the three great laws of Kepler. The third was not dis- covered by him till some years afterward. He tells us himself, that, on the 8th of May, 1018, after long toil in investigating the proportion of the periodic times of the planetary movements to their orbits, an idea struck his mind, which, chancing to make a mistake in the calculation, he soon rejected. But, a week after, returning to the subject, he entirely established his grand discovery, that the squares of the times of revolution are as the cubes of the mean distances of the planets. This was first made known to the world in his Mysterium Cosmographicum, published in 1619; a work mingled up with many strange effusions of a mind far more ec- centric than any of the planets with which it was engaged. In the Epitome Astrono- miae Copernicanae, printed the same year, he endeavours to deduce this law from his theory of centrifugal forces. He had a very good insight into the principles of universal gravitation as an attribute of matter ; but several of his assumptions as to the laws of motion are not consonant to truth. There seems, indeed, to have been a considerable degree of good for- tune in the discoveries of Kepler ; yet this may be deemed the reward of his indefat- igable laboriousness, and of the ingenu- ousness with which he renounced any hypothesis that he could not reconcile with his advancing knowledge of the phae- nomena. 25. The appearance of three comets in 1619 called once more the as- conjectures tronomers of Europe to specu- as to comets, late on the nature of those anomalous bodies. They still passed for harbingers of worldly catastrophes ; and those who feared them least could not interpret their apparent irregularity. Galileo, though Tycho Brahe had formed a juster notion, unfortunately took them for atmospheric meteors. Kepler, though he brought them from the far regions of space, did not sus- pect the nature of their orbits, and thought that, moving in straight lines, they were finally dispersed and came to nothing. But a Jesuit, Grassi, in a treatise De Tribus Cometis, Rome, 1618, had the honour of explaining what had baffled Galileo, and first held them to be planets moving in vast ellipses round the sun.* 26. But long before this time the name of Galileo had become immortal . by discoveries which, though co'very'orju^ they would certainly have soon itcr's satei- been made by some other, per- Iltes " tiaps far inferior observer, were happily reserved for the most philosophical genius of the age. Galileo assures us that, hav- ing heard of the invention of an instrument n Holland which enlarged the size of dis- ;ant objects, but knowing nothing of its ionstruction, he began to study the theory of refractions till he found by experiment hat, by means of a convex and concave glass in a tube, he could magnify an ob- ect threefold. He was thus encouraged to make another, which magnified thirty imes ; and this he exhibited in the autumn of 1609 to the inhabitants of Venice. Hav- ng made a present of his first telescope o the senate, who rewarded him with a jension, he soon constructed another ; and n one of the first nights of January, 1610, directing it towards the moon, was aston- shed to see her surface and edges covered with inequalities. These he considered o be mountains, and judged by a sort of measurement that some of them must ex- eed those of the earth. His next obser- vation was of the milky way ; and this he * The Biographic Universelle, art. Grassi, as- cribes this opinion to Tycho. 248 LITERATURE OF EUROPE found to derive its nebulous lustre from myriads of stars, not distinguishable, through their remoteness, by the unassist- ed sight of man. The nebulae in the con- stellation Orion he perceived to be of the same character. Before his delight at these discoveries could have subsided, he turned his telescope to Jupiter, and was surprised to remark three small stars, which, in a second night's observation, had changed their places. In the course of a few weeks, he was able to determine by their revolutions, which are very rapid, that these are secondary planets, the moons or satellites of Jupiter; and he had added a fourth to their number. These marvellous revelations of nature he hast- ened to announce in a work, aptly en- titled Sidereus Nuncius, published in March, 1610. In an age when the fasci- nating science of astronomy had already so much excited the minds of philosophers, it may be guessed with what eagerness this intelligence from the heavens was circulated. A few, as usual, through envy or prejudice, affected to contemn it. But wisdom was justified of her children. Kepler, in his Narratio de observatis a se Quatuor Jovis Satellitibus, 1610, confirmed the discoveries of Galileo. Peiresc, an inferior name, no doubt, but deserving of every praise for his zeal in the cause of knowledge, having with difficulty procured a good telescope, saw the four satellites in November, 1610, and is said by Gassendi to have conceived at that time the inge- nious idea that their occultations might be used to ascertain the longitude.* 27. This is the greatest and most im- otherdiscov- portant of the discoveries of cries by him. Galileo. But several others were of the deepest interest. He found that the planet Venus had phases, that is, periodical differences of apparent form like the moon ; and that these are exactly such as would be produced by the variable re- flection of the sun's light on the Coperni- can hypothesis ; ascribing also the faint light on that part of the moon which does not receive the rays of the sun, to the re- flection from the earth, called by some late writers earth-shine ; which, though it had been suggested by Maestlin, and be- fore him by Leonardo da Vinci, was not generally received among astronomers. Another striking phenomenon, though he did not see the means of explaining it, was the triple appearance of Saturn, as if smaller stars were conjoined, as it were, like wings to the planet. This, oT course, was the ring. * Gassendi, Vita Peirescii, p. 77. 28. Meantime, the new auxiliary of vis ion, which had revealed so many Spots of lh wonders, could not lie unem- sun discov ployed in the hands of others. ercd - A publication by John Fabricius, at Wit tenberg, in July, 1611, De Maculis in Sole visis, announced a phenomenon in con- tradiction of common prejudice. The sun had passed for a body of liquid flame, or, if thought solid, still in a state of perfect ignition. Kepler had some years before observed a spot, which he unluckily mis- took for the orb of Mercury in its passage over the solar orb. Fabricius was not permitted to claim this discovery as his own. Scheiner, a Jesuit, professor of mathematics at Ingolstadt, asserts, in a le.Uer dated 12th of November, 1611, that he first saw the spots in the month of March in that year, but he seems to have paid little attention to them before that of October. Both Fabricius, however, and Scheiner may be put out of the ques- tion. We have evidence that Harriott observed the spots on the sun as early as December 8th, 1610. The motion of the spots suggested the revolution of the sun round its axis, completed in twenty-four days, as it is now determined ; and their frequent alterations of form, as well as occasional disappearance, could only be explained by the hypothesis of a luminous atmosphere in commotion, a sea of flame, revealing at intervals the dark central mass of the sun's body which it envelopes. 29. Though it cannot be said, perhaps, that the discoveries of Galileo copemican would fully prove the Coperni- sysiem held can system of the world to those by Galileo - who were already insensible to reasoning from its sufficiency to explain the phe- nomena, and from the analogies of na- ture, they served to familiarize the mind to it, and to break down the strong ram- part of prejudice which stood in its way. For eighty years, it has been said, this theory of the earth's motion had been maintained without censure ; and it could only be the greater boldness of Galileo in its assertion which drew down upon him the notice of the Church. But, in these eighty years since the publication of the treatise of Copernicus, his proselytes had been surprisingly few. They were now becoming more numerous : several had written on that side ; and Galileo had be- gun to form a school of Copernicans, who were spreading over Italy. The Lincean Society, one of the most useful and re- nowned of Italian academies, founded at Rome by Frederic Cesi, a young man of noble birth, in 1603, had, as a fundament- al law, to apply themselves to natural FROM 1600 TO 1650. 249 philosophy ; and it was impossible that so attractive and rational a system as that of Copernicus could fail of pleasing an acute and ingenious nation strongly bent upon science. The Church, however, had taken alarm ; the motion of the earth was conceived to be as repugnant to Scripture as the existence ,of antipodes had once been reckoned ; and in 1616, Galileo, 1 though respected and in favour with the court of Rome, was compelled to promise that he would not maintain that doctrine in any manner. Some letters that he had published on the subject were put, with the treatise of Copernicus and other works, into the Index Expurgatorius, where, I believe, they still remain.* 30. He seems, notwithstanding this, to His dialogues, have flattered himself that, after and persecu- ' several years had elapsed, he might elude the letter of this prohibition by throwing the arguments in favour of the Ptolemaic and Copernican systems into the form of a dialogue. This was published in 1632 ; and he might, from various circumstances, not unreasonably hope for impunity. But his expectations were deceived. It is well known that he was compelled by the In- quisition at Rome, into whose hands he fell, to retract, in the most solemn and explicit manner, the propositions he had BO well proved, and which he must have still believed. It is unnecessary to give a circumstantial account, especially as it has been so well done in a recent work, the Life of Galileo, by Mr. Drinkwater Bethune. The papal court meant to hu- miliate Galileo, and, through him, to strike an increasing class of philosophers with shame and terror; but not otherwise to punish one, of whom even the inquisitors must, as Italians, have been proud ; his confinement, though Montucla says it lasted for a year, was very short. He continued, nevertheless, under some re- * Drinkvvater's Life of Galileo. Fabroni, Vita? Italorum, vol. i. The former seems to be mistaken in supposing that Galileo did not endeavour to prove las system compatible with Scripture. In a letter to Christina, the grand-duchess of Tuscany, the author (Brenna) of the Life in Fahroni's work tells us, he argued very elaborately for that purpose. In ea videlicit epistola philosophus noster ita disse- nt, ut nihil etiam ab hominibus, qui omnem in sa- crarum literarum studio consumpsissent astatem, aut subtilins aut verius aut etiam accurntius expli- catum expectari potuerit, p. 118. It fjeems, in fact, to have been this over-tl-ssire to prove his theory or- thodox which incensed the Church against it. See an extraordinary article on this subject in the eighth number of the Dublin Review (1838). Many will tolerate propositions inconsistent with orthodoxy, when they are not brought into immediate juxta- position with it. VOL. II. 1 1 straint for the rest of his life ; and, though he lived at his own villa near Florence, was not permitted to enter the city.* 31. The Church was not mistaken in supposing that she should intimi- Descartes date the Copernicans, but very aiarmw much so in expecting to suppress by tUl8< the theory. Descartes was so astonished at hearing of the sentence on Galileo, that he was almost disposed to burn his papers, or, at least, to let no one see them. " 1 cannot collect," he says, " that he who is an Italian, and a friend of the pope, as I understand, has been criminated on any other account than for having attempted to establish the motion of the earth. I know that this opinion was formerly cen- sured by some cardinals ; but I thought I had since heard that no objection was now made to its being publicly taught even at Rome."f It seems not at all unlikely that Descartes was induced, on this account, to pretend a greater degree of difference from Copernicus than he really felt, and even to deny, in a certain sense of his own, the obnoxious tenet of the earth's motion. { He was not without danger of a sentence against truth nearer at hand ; Cardinal Richelieu having had the intention of procuring a decree of the Sorbonne to the same effect, which, by the good sense of some of that society, fell to the ground. $ 32. The progress, however, of the Co- pernican theory in Europe, if it p rogress O j may not actually be dated from the copemi- its condemnation at Rome, was ean svstem - certainly not at all slower after that time. Gassendi rather cautiously took that side ; the Cartesians brought a powerful re-en- forcement ; Bouillaud and several other astronomers of note avowed themselves favourable to a doctrine which, though in Italy it lay under the ban of the papal power, was readily saved on this side of the Alps by some of the salutary distinc- tions long in use to evade that authority. || But in the middle of the seventeenth * Fabroni. His Life is written in good Latin, with knowledge and spirit, more than Tiraboschi has ventured to display. It appears from some of Grotius's Epistles, that Galileo had thoughts, about 1635, of seeking the protection of the United Provinces. But, on ac- count of his advanced age, he gave this up : fessus senio constituit manere in quibus est locis, et potiua quae ibi sunt incommoda perpeti, quam malae setati migrandi onus, et novas parandi amicitias impo nere. The very idea shows that he must have deeply felt the restraint imposed upon him in his country. Epist. Grot., 407, 446. t Vol. vi., p. 239 : he says here of the motion of the earth, Je confesse que s'il est faux, tous les fondemons de ma philosophic le sont aussi. Vol. vi., p. 50. Montucla, ii., 297 Montucla, p. 50. 250 LITERATURE OF EUROPE century, and long afterward, there were mathematicians of no small reputation, who struggled stanchly for the immo- bility of the earth ; and, except so far as Cartesian theories might have come in vogue, we have no reason to believe tha any persons unacquainted with astronomy either in this country or on the Conti nent, had embraced the system of Coper nicus. Hume has censured Bacon for re jecting it ; but, if Bacon had not done so he would have anticipated the rest of his countrymen by a full quarter of a century 33. Descartes, in his new theory of the Descartes solar s y stem > aspired to explain denies gen- the secret springs of nature, while erai gravi- Kepler and Galileo had merely Ion - showed their effects. By what force the heavenly bodies were impelled by what law they were guided, was cer- tainly a very different question from thai of the orbit they described or the period of their revolution. Kepler had evidently some notion of that universally mutual gravitation which Hooke saw more clear- ly, and Newton established on the basi of his geometry.* But Descartes rejected this with contempt. " For," he says, " to conceive this, we must not only suppose that every portion of matter in the uni- verse is animated, and animated by several different souls, which do not obstruct one another, but that those souls are intelli- gent and even divine ; that they may know what is going on in the most remote places, without any messenger to give them notice, and that they may exert their powers there."! Kepler, who took the world for a single animal, a leviathan that roared in caverns and breathed in the ocean-tides, might have found it difficult to answer this, which would have seemed no objection at all to Campanella. If Des- cartes himself had been more patient to- wards opinions which he had not formed in his own mind, that constant divine agency, to which he was, on other occa- sions, apt to resort, could not but have suggested a sufficient explanation of the gravity of matter, without endowing it with self-agency. He had, however, fallen upon a complicated and original scheme ; the most celebrated, perhaps, though not the most admirable, of the novelties which Descartes brought into philosophy. * " If the earth and moon,'' he says, " were not retained in their orbits, they would fall one on another, the moon moving about 33-34ths of the way, the earth the rest, supposing them equally flense." By this attraction of the moon he accounts for tides. He compares the attraction of the planets towards the sun to that of heavy bodies towards the earth. t Vol. ix., p. 560. 34. In a letter to Mersenne, Jan. 9th, 1639, he shortly states that notion Cartesian of the material universe which he theory or afterward published in the Princip- ttle world - j ia Philosophies. " I will tell you," he says, " that I conceive, or, rather, can demon- strate, that, besides the matter which com- poses terrestrial bodies, there are two other kinds ; one very subtle, of which the parts are round, or nearly round, like grains of sand, and this not only occupies the pores of terrestrial bodies, but constitutes the substance of all the heavens ; the other incomparably more subtle, the parts of which are so small, and move with such velocity, that they have no determinate figure, but readily take at every instant that which is required to fill all the little intervals which the other does not oc- cupy."* To this hypothesis of a double a5ther he was driven by his aversion to admit any vacuum in nature ; the rotundi- ty of the former corpuscles having been produced, as he fancied, by their continual circular motions, which had rubbed off their angles. This seems, at present, rather a clumsy hypothesis, but it is liter- ally that which Descartes presented to the world. 35. After having thus filled the universe with different sorts of matter, he supposes that the subtler particles, formed by the perpetual rubbing off of the angles of the larger in their progress towards spherici- ty, increased by degrees till there was a superfluity that was not required to fill up the intervals ; and this, flowing towards the centre of the system, became the sun, a very subtle and liquid body, while, in like manner, the fixed stars were formed in other systems. Round these centres the whole mass is whirled in a number of distinct vortices, each of which carries along with it a planet. The centrifugal motion impels every particle in these vor- tices at each instant to fly off from the un in a straight line ; but it is retained )y the pressure of those which have al- ready escaped, and form a denser sphere beyond it. Light is no more than the jffect of particles seeking to escape from :he centre, and pressing one on another, hough perhaps without actual motion. f The planetary vortices contain sometimes * Vol. viii., p. 73. t J'ai souvent averti que par la Inmiere je n'en- endois pas tant le mouvement que cette inclination iu propension que ces petits corps ont a se mouvoir, t que ce que je dirois du mouvement, pour etre >lus aisement entendu, se devoit rapporter a cette ropension ; d'ofi il est manifeste que selon moi Ton le doit entendre autre chose par les couleurs que es differentes varictes q>ai arrivent en ces propen- ions. Vol. vii., p. 193. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 251 smaller vortices, in which the satellites are whirled round their principal. 36. Such, in a fc\v words, is the famous Cartesian theory, which, fallen in esteem as it now is, stood its ground on the Con- tinent of Europe for nearly a century, till the simplicity of the Newtonian system, and, above all, its conformity to the reality of things, gained an undisputed predomi- nance. Besides the arbitrary suppositions of Descartes, and the various objections that were raised against the absolute plenum of space and other parts of his theory, it has been urged that his vortices are not reconcilable, according to the laws of motion in fluids, with the relation, as- certained by Kepler, between the periods and distances of the planets ; nor does it appear why the sun should be in the focus rather than in the centre of their orbits. Yet within a few yeai's it has seemed not impossible that a part of his bold conjec- tures will enter once more with soberer steps into the schools of philosophy. His doctrine as to the nature of light, impro- ved as it was by Huygens, is daily gaining ground over that of Newton ; that of a subtle aether pervading space, which, in fact, is nearly the same thing, is becoming a favourite speculation, if we are not yet to call it an established truth ; and the affirmative of a problem, which an eminent writer has started, whether this rether has a vorticose motion round the sun, would not leave us very far from the philosophy it has been so long our custom to turn into ridicule. 37. The passage of Mercury over the Transits of sim was witnessed by Gassen- Mercury di in 1631. This phenomenon, and Venus, though it excited great interest in that age, from its having been previous- ly announced, so as to furnish a test of astronomical accuracy, recurs too fre- quently to be now considered as of high importance. The transit of Venus is much more rare. It occurred on Dec. 4, 1639, and was then only seen by Horrox, a young Englishman of extraordinary mathematical genius. There is reason to ascribe an invention of great importance, though not, perhaps, of extreme difficulty, that of the micrometer, to Horrox. 38. The satellites of Jupiter and the Laws of phases of Venus are not so glo- Mechanics r i O us in the scutcheon of Galileo as his discovery of the true principles of mechanics These, as we have seen in the former volume, were very imperfectly known till he appeared ; nor had the ad- ditions to that science since the time of Archimedes been important. The treatise of Galileo, Delia Scienza Mecanica, has been said, I know not on what authority, to have been written in 1592. It was not published, however, till 1634, and then only in a French translation by Mersenne. the original not appearing till 1649. This is chiefly confined to statics, or the doctrine of equilibrium ; it was in his dialogues on motion, Delia Nuova Scienza, pub- statics ol lished in 1638, that he developed ^\iieo. his great principles of the science of dy- namics, the moving forces of bodies. Gal- ileo was induced to write his treatise on mechanics, as he tells us, in consequence of the fruitless attempts he witnessed in engineers to raise weights by a small force, " as if with their machines they could cheat nature, whose instinct, as it were, by fundamental law is, that no re- sistance can be overcome except by a superior force." But as one man may raise a weight to the height of a foot by dividing it into equal portions, commensu- rate to his power, which many men could not raise at once, so a weight, which rais- es another greater than itself, may be con- sidered as doing so by successive instal- ments of force, during each of which it traverses as much space as a correspond- ing portion of the larger weight. Hence the velocity, of which space uniformly traversed in a given time is the measure, is inversely as the masses of the weights; and thus the equilibrium of the straight lever is maintained when the weights are inversely as their distance from the ful- crum. As this equilibrium of unequal weights depends on the velocities they would have if set in motion, its law has been called the principle of virtual veloci- ties. No theorem has been of more im- portant utility to mankind. It is one of those great truths of science, which, com- bating and conquering enemies from op- posite quarters, prejudice and empiricism, justify the name of philosophy against both classes. The waste of labour and ex- pense in machinery would have been in- calculably greater in modern times, could we imagine this law of nature not to have been discovered ; and as their misapplica- tion prevents their employment in a prop- er direction, we owe, in fact, to Galileo the immense effect which a right applica- tion of it has produced. It is possible that Galileo was ignorant of the demon- stration given by Stevinus of the law of equilibrium in the inclined plane. His own is different ; but he seems only to consider the case when the direction of the force is parallel to that of the plane. 39. Still less was known of the princi- ples of dynamics than of those of His Dy statics, till Galileo came to investi- nftlhic8 252 LITERATURE OF EUROPE gate them. The acceleration of falling bodies, whether perpendicularly or on in- clined planes, was evident ; but in what ratio this took place, no one had succeed- ed in determining, though many had offer- ed conjectures. He showed that the ve- locity acquired was proportional to the time from the commencement of falling. This might now be demonstrated from the laws of motion ; but Galileo, who did not, perhaps, distinctly know them, made use of experiment. He then proved by rea- soning that the spaces traversed in falling were as the squares of the times or veloci- ties ; that their increments in equal times were as the uneven numbers, 1, 3, 5, 7, and so forth; and that the whole space was half what would have been traversed uniformly from the beginning with the final velocity. These are the great laws of accelerated and retarded motion, from which Galileo deduced most important theorems. He showed that the time in which bodies roll down the length of in- clined planes is equal to that in which they would fall down the height, and in different planes is proportionate to the height ; and that their acquired velocity is in the same ratios. In some proposi- tions he was deceived ; but the science of dynamics owes more to Galileo than to any one philosopher. The motion of pro- jectiles had never been understood ; he showed it to be parabolic ; and in this he not only necessarily made use of a prin- ciple of vast extent, that of compound mo- tion, which, though it is clearly mentioned in one passage by Aristotle,* and may probably be implied in the mechanical reasonings of others, does not seem to have been explicitly laid down by modern writers, but must have seen the principle of curvilinear deflection by forces acting in infinitely small portions of time. The ratio between the times of vibration in pendulums of unequal length had early attracted Galileo's attention. But he did not reach the geometrical exactness of which this subject is capable. f He de- veloped a new principle as to the resist- ance of solids to the fracture of their parts, which, though Descartes, as usual, treat- ed it with scorn, is now established in philosophy. " One forms, however," says Playfair, " a very imperfect idea of this philosopher from considering the discov- eries and inventions, numerous and splen- did as they are, of which he was the un- disputed author. It is by following his reasonings, and by pursuing the train of Drinkwater's Life of Galileo, p. 80. Fabroiv. his thoughts, in hi.s own elegant, though somewhat diffuse exposition of them, that we become acquainted with the fertility of his genius, with the sagacity, penetra- tion, and comprehensiveness of his mind. The service which he rendered to real knowledge is to be estimated, not only from the truths which he discovered, but from the errors which he detected ; not merely from the sound principles which he established, but from the pernicious idols he overthrew. Of all the writers who have lived in an age which was yet only emerging from ignorance and barba- rism, Galileo has most entirely the tone of true philosophy, and is most free from any contamination of the times in taste, sentiment, and opinion."* 40. Descartes, who left nothing in phi- losophy untouched, turned his Mechanics acute mind to the science of of Descartes, mechanics, sometimes with signal credit, sometimes very unsuccessfully. He re- duced all statics to one principle, that it requires as much force to raise a body to a given height, as to raise a body of double weight to half the height. This is the theorem of virtual velocities in another form. In many respects he displays a jealousy of Galileo, and an unwillingness to acknowledge his discoveries, which puts himself often in the wrong. " I be- lieve," he says, " that the velocity of very heavy bodies, which do not move very quickly in descending, increases nearly in a duplicate ratio ; but I deny that this is exact, and I believe that the contrary is the case when the movement is very rapid."! This recourse to the air's re- sistance, a circumstance of which Galileo was well aware, in order to diminish the credit of a mathematical theorem, is un- worthy of Descartes ; but it occurs more than once in his letters. He maintained also, against the theory of Galileo, that bodies do not begin to move with an in- finitely small velocity, but have a certain degree of motion at the first instance r which is afterward accelerated.^ In this, too, as he meant to extend his theory to falling bodies, the consent of philosophers lias decided the question against him. It was a corollary from these notions that tie denies the increments of spaces to be * Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclop. Britan. t GEuvres de Descartes, vol. viii., p. 24. j II faut savoir, quoique Galilee et qnelques au- tres disent au contraire, que les corps qui com- mencent a descendre, ou a se mouvoir en quelque fagon que ce soil, ne passent point par tous les de- grfes de tardivete ; mais que des le premier moment ils ont certaine vitesse qui s'augmente apres de beaucoup, et c'est de cette augmentation que vient la force de la percussion, viii., 181. FROM 1000 TO 1650. 253 according to the progression of uneven numbers.* Nor would he allow that the velocity of a body augments its force, though it is a concomitant. f 41. Descartes, however, is the first who Law of motion ^' d ^ down the laws of motion ; laid down by especially that all bodies per- Descartes. g j st j n faeir p resen t s ; a t e O f rest, or uniform rectilineal motion, till af- fected by some force. Many had thought, as the vulgar always do, that a continu- ance of rest was natural to bodies, but did not perceive that the same principle of in- ertia or inactivity was applicable to them in rectilineal motion. Whether this is de- ducible from theory, or depends wholly on experience, by which we ought to mean experiment, is a question we need not dis- cuss. The fact, however, is equally cer- tain ; and hence Descartes inferred that every curvilinear deflection is produced by some controlling force, from which the body strives to escape in the direction of a tangent to the curve. The most er- roneous part of his mechanical philosophy is contained in some propositions as to the collision of bodies, so palpably incom- patible with obvious experience that it seems truly wonderful he could ever have adopted them. But he was led into these paradoxes by one of the arbitrary hypoth- eses which always governed him. He fancied it a necessary consequence from the immutability of the divine nature that there should always be the same quantity of motion in the universe ; and, rather than abandon this singular assumption, he did not hesitate to assert, that two hard bodies striking each other in opposite directions would be reflected with no loss of velocity ; and, what is still more outrageously para- doxical, that a smaller body is incapable of communicating motion to a greater; for example, that the red billiard-ball can- not put the white into motion. This mani- fest absurdity he endeavoured to remove by the arbitrary supposition, that when we see, as we constantly do, the reverse of his theorem take place, it is owing to * Cette proportion d'augmentation selon les nom- fares impairs, 1,3,5, 7, &c., que est dans Galilee, et que je crois vous avoir aussi ecrite autrefois, ne peut-e'tre vraie, qu'en supposant deux ou trois choses qui sont tres fausses, dont 1'une est que le mouvement croisse par degr6s depuis le plus lent, ainsi que le songe Galilee, et 1'autre que la resist- ance de I'air n'ernpe'che point, vol. ix., p. 319. t Je pense que la vitesse n'est pas la cause de I'augmentation de la force, encore qu'elle 1'accom- pagne toujours. Id., p. 356. See also vol. viii., p. 14. He was probably perplexed by the metaphysical notion of causation, which he knew not how to as- cribe to. mere velocity. The fact, that increased velocity is a condition or antecedent of augmented force could not be doubted. the air, which, according to him, renders bodies more susceptible of motion than they would naturally be. 42. Though Galileo, as well as otlers, must have been acquainted with A ,. n _, 4.1 1 t* 1 " f " 15> ' J '1 *" the laws of the composition of or compound moving forces, it does not ap- foroes - pear that they had ever been so distinctly enumerated as by Descartes, in a passage of his Dioptrics.* That the doctrine was in some measure new may be inferred from the objections of Fermat ; and Cler- selier, some years afterward, speaks of persons " not much versed in mathematics, who cannot understand an argument taken from the nature of compound motion."! 43. Roberval demonstrated what seems to have been assumed by Galileo, Other dis . that the forces on an oblique or coveries in crooked lever balance each other meclia " i ' >< - when they are inversely as the perpendicu- lars drawn from the centre of motion to their direction. Fermat, more versed in geometry than physics, disputed this the- orem, which is now quite elementary. Descartes, in a letter to Mersenne, un- graciously testifies his agreement with it.| Torricelli, the most illustrious disciple of Galileo, established that when weights balance each other in all positions, their common centre of gravity does not ascend or descend, and conversely. 44. Galileo, in a treatise entitled Delle Cose che stanno nell r Acqua, Inhydro . lays down the principles of hy- statics and drostatics already established pneumatics, by Stevin, and, among others, what is call- ed the hydrostatical paradox. Whether he was acquainted with Stevin's writings may be perhaps doubted ; it does not ap-' pear that he mentions them. The more difficult science of hydraulics was entirely created by two disciples of Galileo, Cas- tellio and Torricelli. It is one every- where of high importance, and especially in Italy. The work of Castellio, Delia Misura dell' Acque Correnti, and a con- tinuation, were published at Rome in 1628. His practical skill in hydraulics, displayed in carrying off the stagnant waters of the * Vol. v., p. 18. f Vol. vi., p. 508. J Je suis de 1'opinion, says Descartes, de ceux qui disent que pondera sunt in (equilibria quando sunt in ratione reciproca linenrum perpend icularium, &c., vol. ix., p. 357. He would not name Roberval ; one of those littlenesses which appear too frequently in his letters, and in all his writings. Descartes, in fact, could not bear to think that another, even though not an enemy, had discovered anything. In the preceding page he says : C'est une chose ridi- cule que de vouloir employer la raison du levier dans la poulie, ce qui est, si j'ai bonne memoire, une imagination de Guide Ubalde. Yet this ima- gination is demonstrated in all our elementary books on mechanics. 254 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Arno, and in many other public works, seems to have exceeded his theoretical science. An error into which he fell, sup- posing the velocity of fluids to be as the height down which they had descended, led to false results. Torricelli proved that it was as the square root of the alti- tude. The latter of these two was still more distinguished by his discovery of the barometer. The principle of the si- phon or sucking-pump, and the impossi- bility of raising water in it more than about thirty-three feet, were both well known ; but even Galileo had recourse to the clumsy explanation that nature limit- ed her supposed horror of a vacuum to this altitude. It occurred to the sagacity of Torricelli that the weight of the atmo- spheric column, pressing upon the fluid which supplied the pump, was the cause of this rise above its level ; and that the degree of rise was, consequently, the measure of that weight. That the air had weight was known indeed to Galileo and Descartes ; and the latter not only had some notion of determining it by means of a tube filled with mercury, but, m a passage which seems to have been much overlooked, distinctly suggests as one reason why water will not rise above eighten brasses in a pump, " the weight of the water which counterbalances that of the air."* Torricelli happily thought t>f using mercury, a fluid thirteen times heav- ier, instead of water, and thus invented a portable instrument by which the varia- tions of the mereunal column might be readily observed. These he found to fluctuate betweefi certain well-known lim- its, and in circumstances which might justly be ascribed to the variations of at- mospheric gravity. This discovery he made in 1643 ; and in 16-18, Pascal, by his celebrated experiment on the Puy de Dome, established the theory of atmo- spheric pressure beyond dispute. He found a considerable difference in the height of the mercury at the bottom and the top of that mountain ; and a smaller, yet perceptible variation was proved on taking the barometer to the top of one of the loftiest churches in Paris. 45. The science of optics was so far optics : f rom Ailing behind other branch- Discoveries es of physics in this period, that, of Kepler, including the two great practical discoveries which illustrate it, no former or later generation has witnessed such an advance. Kepler began, in the year 1604, by one of his first works, Paralipomena ad Vitellionem, a title somewhat more * Vol. vii., p. 437. modest than he was apt to assume. In this supplement to the great Polish phi- losopher of the middle ages, he first ex- plained the structure of the human eye, and its adaptation to the purposes of vis- ion. Porta and Maurolycus had made important discoveries, but left the great problem untouched. Kepler had the sa- gacity to perceive the use of the retina as the canvass on which images were paint- ed. In his treatise, says Montucla, we are not to expect the precision of our own age ; but it is full of ideas novel and worthy of a man of genius. He traced the causes of imperfect vision in its two principal cases, where the rays of light converge to a point before or behind the retina. Several other optical phenomena are well explained by Kepler ; but he was unable to master the great enigma of the science, the law of refraction. To this he turned his attention again in 1611, when he pub- lished a treatise on Dioptrics. He here first laid the foundation of that science. The angle of refraction, which Mauroly- cus had supposed equal to that of inci- dence, he here assumed to be one third of it ; which, though very erroneous as a general '.heorem, was sufficiently accurate for l he sort of glasses he employed. It was his object to explain the i nvc mion principle of the telescope ; and of the teie- in this he well succeeded. That scope - admirable invention was then quite recent. Whatever endeavours have been made to carry up the art of assisting vision by means of a tube to much more ancient times, it seems to be fully proved that no one had made use of combined lenses for that purpose. The slight benefk which a hollow tube affords by obstructing the lat- eral ray must have been early familiar, and will account for passages which have been construed to imply what the writers never dreamed of.* The real inventor of the telescope is not certainly known. Metius of Alkmaer long enjoyed that hon- our ; but the best claim seems to be that of Zachary Jens, a dealer in spectacles at Middleburg. The date of the invention, or, at least, of its publicity, is referred, be- yond dispute, to 1609. The news of so wonderful a novelty spread rapidly through Europe ; and in the same year Galileo, as has been mentioned, having heard of the discovery, constructed by his own sagaci- ty the instrument which he exhibited at Venice. It is, however, unreasonable to * Even Dutens, whose sole aim is to depreciate those whom modern science has most revered, can not pretend to show that the ancients made use of glasses to assist vision. Origine des Decouvertes, i., 218. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 255 regard himself as the inventor; and in this respect his Italian panegyrists have gone too far. The original sort of tele- scope, and the only one employed in Eu- rope for above thirty years, was formed of a convex object-glass with a concave eyeglass. This, however, has the dis- advantage of diminishing too much the space which can be taken in at one point of view ; " so that," says Montucla, " one can hardly believe that it could render astronomy such service as it did in the hands of a Galileo or a Scheiner." Kep- ler saw the principle upon which another kind might be framed with both glasses convex. This is now called the astro- nomical telescope, and was first employed a little before the middle of the century. The former, called the Dutch telescope, is chiefly used for short spying glasses. 46. The microscope has also been as- or the mi- cribed to Galileo ; and so far with croscope. better cause, that we have no proof of his having known the previous invention. It appears, however, to have originated, like the telescope, in Holland, and perhaps at an earlier time. Corne- lius Drebbel, who exhibited the micro- scope in London about 1620, has often passed for the inventor. It is suspected by Montucla that the first microscope had concave eyeglasses ; and that the present form with two convex glasses is not old- er than the invention of the astronomical telescope. 47. Antonio de Dominis, the celebrated Antonio de archbishop of Spalatro, in a book Dominis. published in 1611, though written several years before, De Radiis Lucis in Vitris Perspectivis et Iride, explained more of the phenomena of the rainbow than was then understood. The varieties of colour had baffled all inquirers, though the bow itself was well known to be the reflection of solar light from drops of rain. Antonio de Dominis, to account for these, had recourse to refraction, the known means of giving colour to the solar ray : and, guiding himself by the experiment of placing between the eye and the sun a glass bottle of water, from the lower side of which light issued in the same order of colours as in the rainbow, he inferred that after two refractions and one inter- mediate reflection within the drop, the ray came to the eye tinged with different col- ours, according to the angle at which it had entered. Kepler, doubtless ignorant of De Dominis's book, had suggested nearly the same. " This, though not a complete theory of the rainbow, and though it left a great deal to occupy the attention, first of Descartes, and after- ward of Newton, was probably just, and carried the explanation as far as the prin- ciples then understood allowed it to go. The discovery itself may be considered as an anomaly in science, as it is one of a very refined and subtle nature, made by a man who has given no other indication of much scientific sagacity or acuteness. In many things his writings show great ig- norance of principles of optics well known in his time, so that Boscovich, an excel- lent judge in such matters, has said of him, ' Homo opticarum rerum supra quod patiatur ea setas imperitissirnus.' "* Mon- tucla is hardly less severe on De Dominis, who, in fact, was a man of more ingenious than solid understanding. 48. Descartes announced to the world in his Dioptrics, 1637, that he Dioi)tric30 i had at length solved the mys- Descartes, tery which had concealed the j^on . re " law of refraction. He showed that the sine of the angle of incidence at which the ray enters has, in the same medium, a constant ratio to that of the angle at which it is refracted, or bent in passing through. But this ratio varies according to the medium, some having a much more refractive power than others. This was a law of beautiful simplicity as well as extensive usefulness ; but such was the fatality, as we would desire to call it, which attended Descartes, that this discovery had been indisputably made, twenty years before, by a Dutch geometer of great reputation, Willibrod Snell. The treatise of Snell had never been published ; but we have the evi- dence both of Vossius and Huygens, that Hortensius, a Dutch professor, had pub- licly taught ,the discovery of his country- man. Descartes had long lived in Hol- land; privately, it is true, and, by his own account, reading few books ; so that in this, as in other instances, we may be charitable in our suspicions ; yet it is un- fortunate that he should perpetually stand in need of such indulgence. 49. Fermat did not inquire whether Descartes was the original dis- disputed by coverer of the law of refraction, Fermat. but disputed its truth. Descartes, indeed, had not contented himself with experi- mentally ascertaining it, but, in his usual manner, endeavoured to show the path of the ray by direct reasoning. The hy- pothesis he brought forward seemed not very probable to Fermat, nor would it be permitted at present. His rival, however, fell into the same error; and, starting * Playfair, Dissertation on Physical Philosoohy, p. 119. 256 LITERATURE OF EUROPE from an equally dubious supposition of his own, endeavoured to establish the true law of refraction. He was surprised to find that, after a calculation founded upon his own principle, the real truth of a con- stant ratio between the sines of the an- gles came out according to the theorem of Descartes. Though he did not the more admit the validity of the latter's hy- pothetical reasoning, he finally retired from the controversy with an elegant compliment to his adversary. 50. In the Dioptrics of Descartes, sev- Curves of eral other curious theorems are Descartes, contained. He demonstrated that there are peculiar curves, of which len- ses may be constructed, by the refrac- tion from whose superficies all the inci- dent rays will converge to a focal point, instead of being spread, as in ordinary lenses, over a certain extent of surface, commonly called its spherical aberration. The effect of employing such curves of glass would be an increase of illumina- tion, and a more perfect distinctness of image. These curves were called the ovals of Descartes ; but the elliptic or hyperbolic speculum would answer near- ly the same purpose. The latter kind has been frequently attempted ; but, on ac- count of the difficulties in working them, if there were no other objection, none but spherical lenses are in use. In Descar- tes's theory, he explained the equality of the angles of incidence and reflection in the case of light, correctly as to the re- sult, though with the assumption of a false principle of his own, that no motion is lost in the collision of hard bodies such as he conceived light to be. Its perfect elasticity makes his demonstration true. 51. Descartes carried the theory of the rainbow beyond the point where Theory of Antonio de Dominis had left it. llie rainbow. He gave the true explanation of the outer bow by a second intermediate reflection of the solar ray within the drop ; and he seems to have answered the question most naturally asked, though far from being of obvious solution, why all this refracted light should only strike the eye in two arches with certain angles and diameters, instead of pouring its prismatic lustre over all the raindrops of the cloud. He found that no pencil of light continued, after undergoing the processes of refraction and reflection in the drop, to be composed of parallel rays, and, consequently, to possess that degree of density which fits it to excite sensation in our eyes, except the two which make those angles with the axis drawn from the sun to an oppo- site point at which the two bows are per- ceived. CHAPTER IX. HISTORY OF SOME OTHER PROVINCES OF LITERATURE FROM 1600 TO 1050. SECT. I. ON NATURAL HISTORY. Zoology. Fabricius on Language of Brutes. Botany. 1. THE vast collections of Aldrovandus X,drovandus. ? n zoolo fy> though they may be considered as representing to us the knowledge of the sixteenth cen- tury, were, as has been seen before, only published in a small part before its close. The fourth and concluding part of his Or- nithology appeared in 1603 ; the History of Insects in 1604. Aldrovandus himself died in 1605. The posthumous volumes appeared in considerable intervals : that on molluscous animals and zoophytes in 1606 ; on fishes and cetacea in 1613 ; on whole-hoofed quadrupeds in 1616 ; on di- gitate quadrupeds, both viviparous and oviparous, in 1637 ; on serpents in 1640 ; and on cloven-hoofed quadrupeds in 1642. There are also volumes on plants and minerals. These were all printed at Bo- logna, and most of them afterward at Frankfort ; but a complete collection is very rare. 2. In the Exotica of Clusius, 1605, a miscellaneous volume on natural Clusiu& history, chiefly, but not wholly, consisting of translations or extracts from older works, we find several new species of simire, the manis, or scaly ant-eater of the Old World, the three-toed sloth, and one or two armadilloes. We may add also the since 'extinguished race, that phoenix of ornithologists, the much-lamented dodo. This portly bird is delineated by Clusius, such as it then existed in the Mauritius. 3. In 1648, Piso on the Materia Medica of Brazil, together with Marc- Rioand graf's Natural History of the Marcgraf. same country, was published at Leyden, with notes by De Laet. The descriptions of Marcgraf are good, and enable us to identify the animals. They correct the imperfect notions of Gesner, and add sev- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 257 eral species which do not appear in his work, or perhaps in that of Aldrovan- dus : such as the tamandua, or Brazilian ant-eater ; several of the family of cavies ; the coati-mondi, which Gesner had per- haps meant in a defective description; the lama, the pacos, the jaguar, and some smaller feline animals ; the prehensile porcupine, and several ruminants. But some, at least, of these had been already described in the histories of the West In- dies, by Hernandez d'Ovideo, Acosta, and Herrera. 4. Jonston, a Pole of Scots origin, col- lected the information of his pred- Jonston. . , T , TT . ecessors in a .Natural History of Animals, published in successive parts from 1648 to 1652. The History of Quadrupeds appeared in the latter year. " The text," says Cuvier, " is extracted, with some taste, from Gesner, Aldrovan- dus, Marcgraf, and Mouffet ; and it an- swered its purpose as an elementary work in natural history till Linnanis taught a more accurate method of classifying, naming, and describing animals. Even LinnaBiis cites him continually."* I find in Jonston a pretty good account of the chimpanzee (Orang-outang Indorum, ab Angola delatus), taken, perhaps, from the Observationes Medicae of Tulpius.f The delineations in Jonston being from cop- perplates, are superior to the coarse wood- cuts of Gesner, but fail sometimes very greatly in exactness. In his notions of classification, being little else than a com- piler, it may be supposed that he did not advance a step beyond his predecessors. The Theatrum Insectorum, by Mouffet, an English physician of the preceding centu- ry, was published in 1634 ; it seems to be compiled, in a considerable degree, from the unpublished papers of Gesner and for- eign naturalists, whum the author has rather too servilely copied. Haller, how- ever, is said to have placed Mouffet above all entomologists before the age of Swam- merdam.J * Biogr. Univ. t Grothis, Flpist ad Gallos, p. 21, gives an ac- count of a chimpanzee, monstrum hoininis dicam an bestiae? and refers to Tulpius. The doubt of Grotius as to the po.-sible humanity of this quam similis turpissiaia bestia nobis is not so strange as the much graver language of Linnasus. | Biogr. Univ. Chalmers. I am no judge of the merits of the book ; but if the following sen- tence of the English translation does it no injus- tice, Mouffet must have taken little pains to do more than transcribe. " In Germany and England 1 do not hear that there are any grasshoppers at all ; but if there be, they are in both countries called Bow-krickets, or Baulm krickets." P. 989. This translation is subjoined to Topsell's History of Four-footed Beasts, collected out of Gesner and VOL. II. K K 5. We. may place under the head of zo- ology a short essav by Fabricius Fabriciusott de Aquapendente on the Ian- the language guage of brutes ; a subject very 01 brutes - curious in itself, and which has by no means sufficiently attracted notice even in this experimental age. It cannot be said that Fabricius enters thoroughly into the problem, much less exhausts it. He divides the subject into six questions : 1. Whether brutes have a language, and of what kind : 2. How far it differs from that of man, and whether the languages of dif ferent species differ from one another : 3. What is its use : 4. In what modes ani- mals express their affections : 5. What means we have of understanding their language : 6. What is their organ of speech. The affirmative of the first ques- tion he proves by authority of several writers, confirmed by experience, espe cially of hunters, shepherds, and cow herds, who know by the difference of sounds what animals mean to express. It may be objected that brutes utter sounds, but do not speak. But this is merely as we define speech ; and he at- tempts to show that brutes, by varying their utterance, do all that we do by literal sounds. This leads to the solution of the second question. Men agree with brutes in having speech, and in forming ele- mentary sounds of determinate time ; but ours is more complex ; these elementary sounds, which he calls arliculos, or joints of the voice, being quicker and more nu- merous. Man, again, forms his sounds more by means of the lips and tongue, which are softer in him than they are in brutes. Hence his speech runs into great variety and complication, which we call language, while that of animals within the same species is much more uniform. 6. The question as to the use of speech to bnjtes is not difficult. But he seems to confine this utility to the expression of particular emotions, and does not meddle with the more curious inquiry, whether they have a capacity of communicating specific facts to one another ; and, if they have, whether this is done through the organs of the voice. The fourth question is, in how many modes animals express their feelings. These are by look, by gesture, by sound, by voice, by language. Fabricius tells us that he had seen a dog, meaning* to expel another dog from the place he wished himself to occupy, begin [>y looking fierce, then use meaning ges- tures, then growl, and finally bark. In- others, in an edition of 1G5S. The first edition oi Topsell's very ordinary composition was in 1608 258 LITERATURE OF EUROPE ferior animals, such as worms, have only the two former sorts of communication. Fishes, at least some kinds, have a power of emitting a sound, though not properly a voice ; this may be by the fins or gills. To insects, also, he seems to deny voice, much more language, though they declare their feelings by sound. Even of oxen, stags, and some other quadrupeds, he would rather say that they have voice than language. But cats, dogs, and birds have a proper language. All, however, are excelled by man, who is truly called prpoi/;, from his more clear and distinct ar- ticulations. 7. In the fifth place, however difficult it may appear to understand the language of brutes, we know that they understand what is said to them ; how much more, therefore, ought we, superior in reason, to understand them. He proceeds from hence to an analysis of the passions, which he reduces to four: joy, desire, grief, and fear. Having thus drawn our map of the passions, we must ascertain, by observation, what are the articulations of which any species of animals is capa- ble, which cannot be done by description. His own experiments were made on the uog and the hen. Their articulations are sometimes complex ; as, when a dog wants to come into his master's chamber, he begins by a shrill, small yelp, express- ive of desire, which becomes deeper, so as to denote a mingled desire and annoy- ance, and ends in a lamentable howl of the latter feeling alone. Fabricius gives several other rules, deduced from obser- vation, of dogs, but ends by confessing that he has not fully attained his object, which was to furnish every one with a compendious method of understanding the language of animals : the inquirer must, therefore, proceed upon these rudiments, and make out more by observation and good canine society. He shows, finally, from the different structure of the organs of speech, that no brute can ever rival man; their chief instrument being the throat, which we use only for vowel sounds. Two important questions are hardly touched in this little treatise : first, as has been said, whether brutes can communicate specific facts to each other ; and, secondly, to what extent they can associate ideas with the language of man. These ought to occupy our excellent nat- uralists. 8. Columna, belonging to the Colonna Botany: family, and one of the greatest Columna. botanists of the sixteenth centu- ry, maintained the honour of that science during the present period, which his long life embraced. In the Academy of the Lincei, founded by Prince Frederic Cesi about 1606, and to which the revival of natural philosophy is greatly due, Colum- na took a conspicuous share. His Ec- phrasis, a history of rare plants, was pub- lished in two parts at Rome, in 1606 and 1616. In this he laid down the true basis of the science, by establishing the distinc- tion of genera, which Gesner, Caesalpin, and Camerarius had already conceived, but which it was left for Columna to con- firm and employ. He alone, of all the contemporary botanists, seems to have appreciated the luminous ideas which Csesalpin had bequeathed to posterity.* In his posthumous observations on the natural history of Mexico by Hernandez, he still farther developed the philosophy of botanical arrangements. Columna is the first who used copper instead of wood to delineate plants ; an improvement which soon became general. This was in the H e says of: his own discovery, that no one had ob- j us to believe that he speaks of that through the lung", even this is not distinctly made out. Spren- ' gel, in his History of Medicine, does not mention i the name of Levasseur (or Vassaeus, as he was j called in Latin) among those who anticipated, in | any degree, the discovery of circulation. The book quoted by Portal is Vassjeus in Anatomen Corporis ' Humani Tabulae Quatuor, several times printed i between 1540 and 1560. Andres (Origine e Progressio d'Ogni Litteratura, : vol. xiv., p. 37) has put in a claim for a Spanish far- rier, by name Reina, who, in a book printed in 1552, ! but of which there seems to have been an earlier edition (Libro di Maniscalcheria hecho y ordenado por Francisco de la Reyna), asserts in few and plain words, as Andres quotes them in Italian, that the blood goes in a circle through all the limbs. 1 do not know that the book has been seen by any one else; and it would be desirable to examine the con- text, since other writers have seemed to know the truth without really apprehending it. That Servetus was only acquainted with the pulmonary circulation has been the general opinion. Portal, though in one place he speaks with less I precision, repeatedly limits the discovery to this ; and Spreugel does not entertain the least suspicion that it went farther. Andres (xiv., 38), not cer- tainly a medical authority, but conversant with such, and very partial to Spanish claimants, asserts the same. If a more general language may be found in some writers, it may be ascribed to their want of distinguishing the two circulations. A medical friend, who, at my request, perused and considered the passage in Servetus, as it is quoted in Allwoerden's life, says in a letter, " All that this passage implies which has any reference to the greater circulation, may be comprised in the follow- j ing points: 1. That the heart tiansmits a vivifying principle along the arteries and the blood which | they contain to the anastomosing veins. 2. That this living principle vivifies the liver and the venous system generally : 3. That the liver produces the blood itself, and transmits it through the vena cava to the heart, in order to obtain the vital principle, by performing the lesser circulation, which Serve- tus seems perfectly to comprehend. " Now, according to this view of the passage, all the movement of the blood implied is that which takes place from the liver, through the vena cava to the heart, and that of the lesser circulation. It would appear to me that Servetus is on the brink of the discovery of the circulation ; but that his notions respecting the transmission of his 'vitalis spiritus' diverted Kis attention from that great movement of the blood itself which Harvey discov- ered. ... It is clear that the quantity of blood sent to the heart for the elaboration of the vital spiritus is, according to Servetus, only that furnished by the liver to the vena cava inferior. But the blood thus introduced is represented by him as performing the circulation through the lungs very regularly." It appears singular that, while Servetus distinct- ly knew that the septum of the heart, paries ille medius, as he calls it, is closed, which Beroger had discovered, and Vesalius confirmed (though The bulk of anatomists longafterward adhered toGalen's notion of perforation), and, consequently, that some other means must exist for restoring the blood from the left division of the heart to the right, he should not have seen the necessity of a system of vessels to carry forward this communication. served or consigned it to writing before. Arantius, according to Portal, has descri- bed the pulmonary circulation still better than Columbus, while Sprengel denies that he has described it all. It is perfectly certain, and is admitted on all sides, that Columbus did not know the systemic cir- culation : in what manner he disposed of the blood does not very clearly appear; but, as he conceived a passage to exist between the ventricles of the heart, it is probable, though his words do not lead to this inference, that lie supposed the aera- ted blood to be transmitted back in this course.* 15. Ceesalpin, whose versatile genius entered upon every field of re- and to cat- search, has, in more than one of saipin. his treatises relating to very different topics, and especially in that upon plants, some remarkable passages on the same subject, which approach more nearly than any we have seen, to a just notion of the general circulation, and have led several writers to insist on his claim as a prior discoverer to Harvey. Portal admits that this might be regarded as a fair pretension, if he were to judge from such passages ; but there are others which contradict this supposition, and show Caesalpin to have had a confused and imperfect idea of the office of the veins. Sprengel, though at first he seems to inelm'e more towards the pretensions of Cassalpin, comes ultimately almost to the same conclusion ; and, giving the reader the words of most importance, leaves him to form his own judgment. The Italians are more confident : Tira- boschi and Corniani, neither of whom is medical authority, put in an unhesitating claim for Ccesalpin as the discoverer of * The leading passage in Columbus (De Re Anatomica, lib. vii , p. 177, edit. 1559), which 1 have not found quoted by Portal or Sprengel, is as fol- lows: Inter kos ventriculos septum adest, per quod fere onrnes existimant sanguini a dextro ventriculo ad sinistrnm p.ditum pateficri ; id ut fieret facilius, in transitu ob vitalium spirituum generationem demum reddi ; sed longa errant via ; nam sanguis per arteriosam venam ad pulmonem fertur ; ibique attenuatur; deinde cum aere una per arteriam venalem ad sinistrum cordis ventriculum defertur; quod nemo hactenus aut animadvertit aut scriptum reliquit ; licet maxim& et ab omnibus animadverten- dum. He afterward makes a remark, in which Servetus had preceded him, that the size of the pulmonary artery (vena arteriosa) is greater than would be required for the nutrition of the lungs alone. Whether he knew of the passages in Ser- vetus or no, notwithstanding his claim of originality, is not perhaps manifest : the coincidence as to the function of the lungs in aerating the blood is re markable ; but, if Columbus had any direct knowl edge of the Christianismi Restitutio, he did not choose to follow it in the remarkable discovery that there is no perforation in the septum between the ventricles. FROM 1COO TO 1650. 261 the circulation of the blood, not without unfair reflections on Harvey.* 16. It is thus manifest, that several anat- Generaiiy un- omists of the sixteenth century known before were on the verge of complete- uarvey. jy detecting the law by which the motion of the blood is governed ; and the language of one is so strong, that we must have recourse, in order to exclude his claim, to the irresistible fact that he did not confirm by proof his own theory, nor announce it in such a manner as to attract the attention of the world. Cer- tainly, when the doctrine of a general cir- culation was advanced by Harvey, ha both announced it as a paradox, and was not deceived in expecting that it would be so accounted. Those, again, who strove to depreciate his originality, sought intima- tions in the writings of the ancients, and even spread a rumour that he had stolen the papers of Father Paul ; but it does not appear that they talked, like some mod- erns, of plagiarism from Levasseur or Caesalpin. 17. William Harvey first taught the cir- culation of the blood in London His discovery. . but ^ Exercitatio de * Tiraboschi, x.,49. Corniani.vi., 8. Hequotes, on the anttiority of another Italian writer, il giitdi- zio di due illustri Inglesi, i fratelli Hunter, i quali, esaminato bene il processo di questa causa, si mara- vigliano della sentenza data in favors del luro concitta- dino. I must doubt, till more evidence is produced, whether this be true. The passage in Csesalpin's Quaestiones Peripatet- ics? is certainly the most resembling a statement of the entire truth that can be found in any writer before Harvey. 1 transcribe it from Dutens's Origine des Decouvertes, vol. ii , p. 23. Ideirco pulmo per venam arteriis sirnilein ex dextro cordis ventriculo fervidum hauriens sanguinem, eumque per anasto- mosin arteriae venali reddens, quae in sinistrum cordis ventriculum tendit, transmisso interim acre frigido per aspera? arteriffi canales, qui juxta arteriam venalem protenduntur, non tameri osculis com- municantes, ut putavit Galenas, solo tactu tempera t. Huic sanguinis circulation! ex dextro cordis ven- triculo per pulmones in sinistrum ejusdem ven- triculum optime respondent ea quae ex dissectione apparent. Nam duo sunt vasa in dextrym ventricu- lum desinetuia, duo eti-.im in sinistrum: duorum autem unurn intromittit tantum, alterum educit, inembrams eo ingenio constitutis. Vas igitur in- tromittens vena et magna quidem in dextro, qua) cava appellatur ; parva autem in sinistro ex pul- mone introducens, cujus unica est tunica, et caete- rarum venarum. Vas autem educens arteria est magna quidem in sinistro, quae aorta appellatur; parva autem in dextro, ad pulmones derivans, cujus siimliter depofitvov al^aros ', but others, and especially one from Nernesius, on which some reliance has been placed, mean nothing more than the flux and reflux of the blood, which the contrac- tion and dilatation of the heart was supposed to pro- duce. See Dutens, vol. ii., p. 8-13. Mr. Coleridge has been deceived in the same manner by some lines of Jordano Bruno, which he takes to describe the circulation of the blood ; whereas they merely express its movement to and fro, meat et remeat, which might be by the same system of vessels. t The biographer of Harvey in the Biographic Universelle strongly vindicates his claim. Tous les hommes instruits conviennent aujourd'hui que Harvey est la veritable auteur de cette belle decou- Terte. . . . Cesalpin pressentoit la circulation arte- 19. Harvey is the author of a treatise, on generation, wherein lie main- n arvey - s tains that all animals, including treatise on men, are derived from an egg. Genera|ion - In this book we first find an argument maintained against spontaneous genera- tion, which, in the case of the lower ani- mals, had been generally received. Spren- gel thinks this treatise prolix, and not equal to the author's reputation.* It was first published in 1651. 20. Next in importance to the discovery of Harvey is that of Asellius as i, ncteals to the lacteal vessels. Eusta- discovered chius had observed the thoracic bv Asellius - duct in a horse. But Asellius, more by chance, as he owns, than by reflection, perceived the lacteals in a fat dog which he opened soon after it had eaten. This was in 1622, and his treatise De Lacteis Venis was published in 1627. f Harvey did not assent to this discovery, and en- deavoured to dispute the use of the ves- sels ; nor is it to his honour that, even to the end of his life, he disregarded the sub- sequent confirmation that Pecquet and Bartholin had furnished.^ The former detected the common origin of the lacteal and lymphatic vessels in 1647, though his work on the subject was not published till 1651. But Olaus Rudbeck was the first who clearly distinguished these two kinds of vessels. 21. Scheiner, the Jesuit, proved that the retina is the organ of sight, and Optical dif) . that the humours serve only to coveries of refract the rays which paint the Scheiner - object on the optic nerve. This was in a treatise entitled Oculus, hoc est, Funda- mentum Opticum, 1619. The writings of several anatomists of this period, such as Riolan, Vesling, Bartholin, contain par- tial accessions to the science ; but it seems to have been less enriched by great dis- coveries, after those already named, than in the preceding century. 22. The mystical medicine of Paracel- sus continued to have many ad- M e di C j ne . vocates in Germany. A new vanHei-" class of enthusiasts sprung from Inont - the same school, and, calling themselves rielle, en supposant que le sang retourne des extrem- ites au coeur ; mais ces assertions ne furent point prouvees ; elles ne se trouverent etayees par ancune experience, par aucun fait; et 1'on pent dire do Cesalpin qu'il divina presque la grande circulation dont les lois lui furent totalement inconnues ; la de'couverte en 4tait reservee a Guillanme Harvey * Hist, de la Medecine, iv., 299. Portal, ii., 477. t Portal, ii., 461. Sprengel, iv., 201. Peiresc soon after this got the body of a man fresh hanged after a good supper, and had the pleasure of con firming the discovery of Asellius by his own eyes Gassendi, Vita Peirescii, p. 177. J Sprengel, iv., 203. Id., 270 FROM 1GOO TO 1650. 263 Rosicrucians, pretended to cure diseases by faith and imagination. A true Rosi- crucian, they held, had only to look on a patient to cure him. The analogy of magnetism, revived in the last and pres- ent age, was commonly employed.* Of this school the most eminent was Van Helmont, who combined the Paracelsian superstitions with some original ideas of his own. His general idea of medicine was, that its business was to regulate the archauis, an immaterial principle of life and health ; to which, like Paracelsus, he attributed a mysterious being and efficacy. The seat of the archaous is in the stom- ach ; and it is to be effected either by a scheme of diet or through the imagination. Sprengel praises Van Helmont for over- throwing many current errors, and for an- nouncing principles since pursued. f The French physicians adhered to the Hippo- cratic school, in opposition to what Spren- gel calls the Chemiatric, which more or less may be reckoned that of Paracelsus. The Italians were still renowned in medi- cine. Sanctorius, De Medicina Statica, 1614, seems the only work to which we need allude. It is loaded with eulogy by Portal, Tiraboschi, and other writers. J SECTION III. On Oriental Literature. Hebrew Learning. Ara- bic, anel other Eastern Languages. 23. DURING no period of equal length Diffusion of since the revival of letters has Hebrew. t ne knowledge of the Hebrew language been, apparently, so much diffu- sed among the literary world as in that before us. The frequent sprinkling of its characters in works of the most miscella- neous erudition will strike the eye of ev- ery one who habitually consults them. Nor was this learning by any means so much confined to the clergy as it has been in later times, though their order naturally furnished the greater portion of those who laboured in that field. Some of the chief Hebraists of this age were laymen. The study of this language prevailed most in * All in nature, says Croll of Hesse, one of the principal theosophists in medicine, is living ; all that lives has its vital force, or astrum, which can- not act without a body, hut passes from one to an- other. All things in (he macrocosm are found also in the microcosm. The inward or astral man is Gabalis, from which the science is named. This Gabalis or imagination is as a magnet to external objects, which it thus attracts. Medicines act by a magnetic force. Sprengel, iii., 362. t Vol. v., p. 22. j Portal, ii., 391. Tiraboschi, xi., 270. Biogr. Univ. the Protestant countries of Europe, and it was cultivated with much zeal in Eng- land. The period between the last years of Elizabeth and the Restoration may be reckoned that in which a knowledge of Hebrew has been most usual among our divines. 24. Upon this subject I can only assert what I collect to be the verdict Language not of judicious critics.* It seems studied fn the that the Hebrew language was bestmethod - not yet sufficiently studied in the method most likely to give an insight into its principles, by comparing it with all the cognate tongues, latterly called Semitic, spoken in the neighbouring parts of Asia, and manifestly springing from a common source. Postel, indeed, had made some attempts at this in the last century, but his learning was very slight ; and Schindler published, in 1612, a Lexicon Pentaglot- tum, in which the Arabic, as well as Syr- iac and Chaldaic, were placed in apposi- tion with the Hebrew text. Louis de Dieu, whose " Remarks on all the Books of the Old Testament" were published at Leyden in 1648, has frequently recourse to some of the kindred languages in or- der to explain the Hebrew.f But the first instructors in the latter had been Jewish rabbis ; and the Hebraists of the sixteenth age had imbibed a prejudice, not unnatu- ral, though unfounded, that their teachers were best conversant with the language of their forefathers. | They had derived from the same source an extravagant no- tion of the beauty, antiquity, and capacity of the Hebrew ; and, combining this with still more chimerical dreams of a mysti- cal philosophy, lost sight of all real prin- ciples of criticism. 25. The most eminent Hebrew scholars of this age were the two Bux- The Buxtorf8 torfs of Basle, father and son, both devoted to the rabbinical school. * The fifth volume of Eichhorn's Geschichte der Cultur is devoted to the progress of Oriental literature in Europe, not very full in characterizing the various productions it mentions, but analytically arranged, and highly useful for reference. Jenisch, in his preface to Meninski's Thesaurus (Vienna, 1780), has traced a sketch of the same subject. We may have trusted in some respects to Simon, Histoire Critique du Vieux Testament. The bio- graphical dictionaries, English and French, have of course been resorted to. t Simon, Hist. Critique du Vieux Testament, p. 494. t This was not the case with Luther, who re- jected the authority of the rabbis, and thought none but Christians could understand the Old Testament. Simon, p. 375. But Munster, Fagius, and several others, who are found in the Critici Sacri, gave way to the prejudice in favour of rabbinical opinions, and their commentaries are, consequently, too Ju- daical. P. 496. 264 LITERATURE OF EUROPE The elder, who had become distinguished before the end of the preceding century, published a grammar in 1609, which long continued to be reckoned the best, and a lexicon of Hebrew, Chaldee, and Syriac in 1623, which was not superseded for more than a hundred years. Many other works relating to these three dialects, as well as to that of the later Jews, do hon- our to the erudition of the elder Buxtorf; but he is considered as representing a class of Hebraists which, in the more comprehensive Orientalism of the eigh- teenth century, has lost much of its credit. The son trod closely in his father's foot- steps, whom he succeeded as professor of Hebrew at Basle. They held this chair between them more than seventy years. The younger Buxtorf was engaged in con- troversies which had not begun in his fa- ther's lifetime. Morin, one of those learn- ed Protestants who had gone over to the Church of Rome, systematically laboured to establish the authority of those versions which the Church had approved, by weak ening that of the text which passed for original.* Hence he endeavoured to show, though this could not logically do much for his object, that the Samaritan Penta- teuch, lately brought to Europe, which is not in a different language, but merely the Hebrew written in Samaritan characters, is deserving of preference above what is called the Masoretic text, from which the Protestant versions are taken. The vari- ations between these are sufficiently nu- merous to affect a favourite hypothesis, borrowed from the rabbis, but strenuously maintained by the generality of Protest- ants, that the Hebrew text of the Maso- retic recension is perfectly incorrupt. f Morin's opinion was opposed by Buxtorf and Hottinger, and by other writers even of the Romish Church. It has, however, been countenanced by Simon and Kenni- cott. The integrity, at least, of the He- brew copyist was gradually given up, and it has since been shown that they differ greatly among themselves. The Samari- tan Pentateuch was first published in 1645, several years after this controversy began, by Sionita, editor of the Parisian Polyglott. This edition, sometimes call- ed by the name of Le Jay, contains most that is in the Polyglott of Antwerp, with the addition of the Syriac and Arabic versions of the Old Testament. 26. An epoch was made in Hebrew crit- vowei points icism by a work of Louis Cap- rejected by pel, professor of that language Caflpei. at g aum ur, the Arcanum Punc- tuationis Revelatum, in 1624. He main- tained in this an opinion promulgated by Elias Levita, and held by the first reform- ers and many other Protestants of the highest authority, though contrary to that vulgar orthodoxy which is always omniv- orous, that the vowel points of Hebrew were invented by certain Jews of Tiberias in the sixth century. They had been gen- erally deemed coeval with the language, or, at least, brought in by Esdras through divine inspiration. It is not surprising that such an hypothesis clashed with the prejudices of mankind, and Cappel was obliged to publish his work in Holland. The Protestants looked upon it as too great a concession in favour of the Vul- gate ; which, having been translated be- fore the Masoretic punctuation, on Cap- pel's hypothesis, had been applied to the text, might now claim to stand on higher ground, and was not to be judged by these innovations. After twenty years, the younger Buxtorf endeavoured to vindi- cate the antiquity of vowel-points ; but it is now confessed that the victory remain- ed with Cappel, who has been styled the father of Hebrew criticism. His princi- pal work is the Critica Sacra, published at Paris in 1650, wherein he still farther discredits the existing manuscripts of the Hebrew Scriptures, as well as the Maso- retic punctuation.* 27. The rabbinical literature, meaning as well the Talmud and other an- Hebrew cient books, as those of the later scholars,, ages since the revival of intellectual pur- suits among the Jews of Spain and the East, gave occupation to a considerable class of scholars. Several of these be- long to England, as Ainsworth, Godwin, Lightfoot, Selden, and Pococke. The an- tiquities of Judaism were illustrated by Cunaeus in Jus Regium Hebraeorum, 1623, and especially by Selden, both in the Uxor Hebraica, and in the treatise De Jure Nat- urali et Gentium juxta Hebraeos. But no one has left a more durable reputation in this literature than Bochavt, a Protestant minister at Caen. His Geographia Sacra, published in 1646, is not the most famous of his works, but the only one which falls within this period. It displa)'s great learning and sagacity ; but it was impos- sible, as has been justly observed, that he could thoroughly elucidate this subject at a time when we knew comparatively little * Simon, p. 522. f Id. ibid. Eichhorn, 5, 464. * Simon, Eichhom, &c. A detailed account of this controversy about vowel-points between Cap- pel and the Buxtorfs will be found in the 12th vol- ume of the Bibliotheqne Universelle ; and a shorter precis in Eichhorn's Einleitung in das alte Testa- ment, vol. i., p. 242. FROM 1600 TO 1650. 265 of modern Asia, and had few good books of travels. A similar observation might of course be applied to his Hierozoicon, on the animals mentioned in Scripture. Both these works, however, were much extolled in the seventeenth century. 28. In the Chaldee and Syriac langua- cimidee and ges, which approach so closely Syriac. to Hebrew that the best schol- ars in the latter are rarely unacquainted with them, besides the Buxtorfs, we find Ferrari, author of a Syriac lexicon, pub- lished at Rome in 1622; Louis de l)ieu of Leyden, whose Syriac grammar ap- peared in 1626 ; and the Syriac transla- tion of the Old Testament in the Parisian Polyglott, edited by Gabriel Sionita, in 1642. A Syriac college for the Maronites of Libanus was founded at Rome by Gregory XIII. ; but it did not as yet pro- duce anything of importance. 29. But a language incomparably more Arabic r * c ^ m li terar y treasures, and long neglected by Europe, now began to take a conspicuous place in the annals of learning. Scaliger deserves the glory of being the first real Arabic scholar ; for Postel, Christman, and a very few more of the sixteenth century, are hardly worth noticing. His friend Casaubon, who ex- tols his acquirements, as usual, very high- ly, devoted himself some time to this study. But Scaliger made use of the language chiefly to enlarge his own vast sphere of erudition. He published nothing on the subject ; but his collections became the base of Rapheling's Arabic Lexicon ; and it is said that they were far more exten- sive than what appears in that work. He who properly added this language to the Erpenius domain f learning was Erpenius. a native of Corcum, who at an early age had gained so unrivalled an ac- quaintance with the Oriental languages as to be appointed professor of them at Ley- den in 1613. He edited, the same year, the above-mentioned lexicon of Rapheling, and published a grammar, which might not only be accounted the first composed in Europe that deserved the name, but be- came the guide to most later scholars. Erpenius gave several other works to the \vorld, chiefly connected with the Arabic version of the Scriptures.* Golius, his successor in the Oriental chair at Leyden, besides publishing a lexicon of the language, which is said to be still the most copious, elaborate, and complete that * Biogr. Univ. VOL. II. L L has appeared,* and several editions of Ar abic writings, poetical and historical, con- tributed still more extensively to bring the range of Arabian literature before the world. He enriched with a hundred and fifty manuscripts, collected in his travels, the library of Leyden, to which Scaliger had bequeathed forty. f The manuscripts belonging to Erpenius found their way to Cambridge ; while, partly by the munifi- cence of Laud, partly by later accessions, the Bodleian Library at Oxford became extremely rich in this line. The much larger collection in the Escurial seems to have been chiefly formed under Philip III. England was now as conspicuous in Ara- bian as in Hebrew learning. Selden, Greaves, and Pococke, especially the last, who was probably equal to any Oriental scholar whom Europe had hitherto pro- duced, by translations of the historical and philosophical writings of the Sara- cenic period, gave a larger coiiipass to general erudition.;): 30. The remaining languages of the East are of less importance, ou^r Eastern The Turkish had attracted languages. some degree of attention in the sixteenth century; but the first grammar was pub- lished by Megiser in 1612, a very slight performance ; and a better at Paris, by Du Ryer, in 1630. The Persic grammar was given at Rome, by Raymondi, in 1614 ; by De Dieu, at Leyden, in 1639; by Greaves, at London, in 1641 and 1619. || An Arme- nian dictionary, by Rivoli, in 1621, seems the only accession to our knowledge of that ancient language during this period. ^f Athanasius Kircher, a man of immense erudition, restored the Coptic, of which Europe had been wholly ignorant. Those farther eastward had not yet begun to en- ter much into the studies of Europe. No- thing was known of the Indian ; but some Chinese manuscripts had been brought to Rome and IMBdrid as early as 1580 ; and, not long afterward, two Jesuits, Roger and Ricci, both missionaries in China, were the first who acquired a sufficient knowl- edge of the language to translate from it.** But scarcely any farther advance took place before the middle of the cen- tury. " Jenisch, prasfatio in Meninski Thesaurus Lin- gunrnm Orientalium, p. 110. t Biogr. Univ. j Jenisch. Eichhorn. Biogr. Universelle. Biogr. Britannica. $ Eichhorn, 5, 3C7. II M.. 320. 1T Id. ,351. ** W-,64. 266 LITERATURE OF EUROPE SECTION IV. On Geography and History. 31. PCRCHAS, an English clergyman, im- Purchas's bued by nature, like Hakluyt, with Pilgrim, a strong bias towards geographical studies, after having formed an extensive library in that department, and consulted, as he professes, above 1200 authors, pub- lished the first volume of his Pilgrim, a collection of voyages in all parts of the world, in 1613 ; four more followed in 1625. The accuracy of this useful compiler has been denied by those who have had better means of knowledge, and probably is in- ferior to that of Hakluyt ; but his labour was far more comprehensive. The Pil- grim was, at all events, a great source of knowledge to the contemporaries of Pur- chas.* 32. Olearius was ambassador from the oiearius Duke of Holstein to Muscovy and Pietro and Persia from 1633 to 1639. deiia vaiie. His travels, in German, were pub- lished in 1647, and have been several times reprinted and translated. He has well de- scribed the barbarism of Russia and the despotism of Persia ; he is diffuse and epi- sodical, but not wearisome ; he observes well and relates faithfully : all who have known the countries he has visited are said to speak well of him.f Pietro della Valle is a far more amusing writer. He has thrown his travels over Syria and Persia into the form of letters written from time to time, and which he professes to have recovered from his correspondents. This, perhaps, is not a very probable story, both on account of the length of the letters, and the want of that reference to the present time and to small passing events which authentic letters commonly exhibit. His observations, however, on all the countries he visited, especially Persia, are apparent- ly such as consist with the knowledge we have obtained from later travellers. Gib- bon says that none have better observed Persia, but his vanity and prolixity are in- sufferable. Yet I think that Delia Valle can hardly be reckoned tedious ; and if he is a little 'egotistical, the usual and almost laudable characteristic of travellers, this gives a liveliness and racy air to his nar- rative. What his wife, the Lady Maani, an Assyrian Christian, whom he met with at Bagdad, and who accompanied him through his long wanderings, may really have been, we can only judge from his eu- logies on her beauty, her fidelity, and her courage ; but she throws an air of romance * Biogr. Univ. Pinkerton's collection of Voya- ges and Travels. The latter does not value Pur- chas highly for correctness. f Biogr. Univ. over his adventures not unpleasing to the reader. The travels of Pietro della Valle took place from 1614 to 1626 ; but the book was first published at Rome in 1650, and has been translated into different Ian- guages. 33. The Lexicon Geographicum of Fer- rari, in 1627, was the chief gen- Lexicon of eral work on geography ; it is al- Ferrari, phabetical, and contains 9600 articles. The errors have been corrected in later editions, so that the first would probably be required in order to estimate the knowl edge of its author's age.* 34. The best measure, perhaps, of geo- graphical science are the maps pub- Maps of lished from time to time, as perfect- Biaew. ly, for the most part, we may presume, as their editors could render them. If we compare the map of the world in the " Theatrum Orbis Terrarum sive Novus Atlas" of Blaew, in 1648, with that of the edition of Ortelius published at Antwerp in 1612, the improvements will not appear exceedingly great. America is still sep- arated from Asia by the straits of Anian about lat. 60 ; but the coast to the south is made to trend away more than before ; on the N.E. coast we find Davis's Sea, and Estotiland has vanished to gi\e way to Greenland. Canada is still most inaccu- rate, though there is a general idea of lakes and rivers better than in Ortelius. Scandinavia is far better, and tolerably correct. In the South, Terra del Fuego terminates in Cape Horn instead of being united to Terra Australis ; but in the East, Corea appears as an oblong island ; the Sea of Aral is not set down, and the wall of China is placed north of the fiftieth par- allel. India is very much too small, and the shape of the Caspian Sea is wholly in- accurate. But a comparison with the map in Hakluyt, mentioned in our first vol- ume, will not exhibit so much superiority of Blaew's Atlas. The latter, however, shows more knowledge of the interior country, especially in North America, and a better outline, in many parts, of the Asiatic coast. The maps of particular re- gions in Europe are on a large scale, and numerous. Speed's maps, 1646, appear by no means inferior to those of Blaew ; but several of the errors are the same. Considering the progress of commerce, especially that of the Dutch, during this half century, we may rather be surprised at the defective state of these maps. 35. Two histories of general reputation were published in the Italian Ian- Daviia and guage during these fifty years ; Bentivogiio * Salfi, xi., 418. Biogr. Universelle. FROM 1(500 TO 1650. 267 one of the civil wars in France by Davila, in 1630, and another of those in Flanders, by Cardinal Bentivoglio. Both of these had the advantage of interesting subjects ; they had been sufficiently conversant, with the actors to know much and to judge well, without that, particular responsibility which tempts an historian to prevarica- tion. They were both men of cool and sedate tempers, accustomed to think poli- cy a game in which the strong play with the weak, obtuse, especially the former, in moral sentiment, but on this account not inclined to calumniate an opposite par- ty, or to withhold admiration from intel- lectual power. Both these histories may be read over and over with pleasure ; if Davila is too refined, if he is not altogeth- er faithful, if his style wants the elegance of some older Italians, he more than re- deems all this by the importance of his subject, the variety and picturesqueness of his narration, and the acuteness of his re- flections. Bentivoglio is reckoned, as a writer, among the very first of his age. 36. The History of the War of Grana- Mendozs-s ^ a > ^ iat * S) tne rebellion of* the Wars of Moriscos in 1565, by the famous Granada. Diego de Mendoza, was published posthumously in 1610. It is placed by the Spaniards themselves on a level with the most renowned of the ancients. The French have now their first gen- y ' eral historian, Mezeray, a writer esteemed for his lively style and bold sense, but little read, of course, in an age like the last or our own, which have de- manded an exactness in matter of fact and an extent of historical erudition which was English formerly unknown. Wenowbe- histori.m.s. g ;in , in England, to cultivate his- torical composition, and with so much success, that the present period was far more productive of such works as deserve remembrance than a whole century that next followed. But the most considerable of these have already been mentioned. English Lord Herbert of Oherbury's His- histori *. tory of Henry VIII. ought here to be added to the list, as a book of good au- thority, relatively at least to any that pre- ceded, and written in a manly and judicious spirit. Camden's Life of Elizabeth is also a solid and valuable history. Bacon's Life of Henry VII. is something more ; it is the first instance in our language of the application of philosophy to reasoning on public events in the manner of the ancients and the Italians. Praise upon Henry is too largely bestowed ; but it was in the nature of Bacon to admire too much a crafty and selfish policy ; and he thought also, no doubt, that so near an ancestor of his own sovereign should not be treated with severe impartiality. SECTION V. On General State of Literatuio. 37. OF the Italian and other Continental universities, we have little to say beyond what may be collected Ulliversitie8 from the general tenour of this literary his- tory, that they contributed little to those departments of knowledge to which we have paid most attention, and, adhering pertinaciously to their ancient studies, were left behind in the advance of the hu- man mind. They were, indeed, not less crowded with scholars than before, being the necessary and prescribed road to lu- crative professions. In theology, law, and medicine, sciences, the two former of which, at least, did not claim to be pro- gressive, they might sustain a respectable posture ; in philosophy, and even in polite letters, they were less prominent. 38. The English universities are, in one point of view, very different from Bodleian those of the rest of Europe. Their library great endowments created a resi- founde(J - dent class, neither teachers nor students, who might devote an unbroken leisure to learning with the advantage of that com mand of books which no other cpurse of life could have afforded. It is true that in no age has the number of these been great ; but the diligence of a few is enough to cast a veil over the laziness of many. The century began with an extraordinary piece of fortune to the University of Ox- ford, which formed in the seventeenth century, whatever it may since have been, one great cause of her literary distinc- tion. Sir Thomas Bodley, with a munifi- cence which has rendered his name more immortal than the foundation of a family could have done, bestowed on the Univer- sity a library collected by him at great cost, building a magnificent room for its reception, and bequeathed large funds for its increase. The building was completed in 1606 ; and Casaubon has, very shortly afterward, given such an account, of the University itself, as well as of the Bodleian library, as will, perhaps, be interesting to the reader, though it contains some of those mistakes into which a stranger is apt to fall. 39. " I wrote you word," he says, in July, 1613, to one of his corre- casaubon't spondents, " a month since, that I account of was going to Oxford, in order to Oxf rd - visit that University and its library, of 268 LITERATURE OF EUROPE which I had heard much. Everything proved beyond my expectation. The col- leges are numerous ; most of them very rich. The revenues of these colleges maintain above two thousand students, generally of respectable parentage, and some even of the first nobility ; for what we call the habits of pedagogues (pseda- gogica vitse ratio) is not found in these English colleges. Learning is here culti- vated in a liberal style ; the heads of houses live handsomely, even splendidly, like men of rank. Some of them can spend ten thousand livres [about 1000 at that time, if I mistake not] by the year. I much approved the mode in which pecuniary concerns are kept distinct from the busi- ness of learning.* Many still are found, who emulate the liberality of their prede- cessors. Hence new buildings v rise every day ; even some new colleges are raised from the foundation : some are enlarged, such as that of Merton, over which Savile presides, and several more. There is one begun by Cardinal Wolsey, which, if it should be completed, will be worthy of the greatest admiration. But he left at his death many buildings, which he had begun, in an unfinished state, which no one ex- pects to see complete. None of the col- leges, however, attracted me so much as the Bodleian library, a work rather for a king than a private man. It is certain that Bodley, living or dead, must have expend- ed 200,000 livres on that building. The ground-plot is the figure of the letter T. The part which represents the perpendicu- lar stem was formerly built by some prince, and is very handsome ; the rest was added by Bodley with no less mag- nificence. In the lower part is a divinity school, to which perhaps nothing in Eu- rope is comparable. It is vaulted with peculiar skill. The upper story is the li- brary itself, very well built, and fitted with an immense quantity of books. Do not imagine that such plenty of manuscripts can be found here as in the royal library (of Paris) ; there are not a few manu- scripts in England, but nothing to what the king possesses. But the number of printed books is wonderful, and increasing every year ; for Bodley has bequeathed a considerable revenue for that purpose. As long as I remained at Oxford, I passed whole days in the library ; for books can- not be taken out, but the library is open to all scholars for seven or eight hours every day. You might always see, there- fore, many of these greedily enjoying the * Res studiosorurn et rationes separatas sunt, quod vnlde probavi. I have given the translation which seemed best ; but I may be mistaken. banquet prepared for them, which gave me no small pleasure."* 40. The Earl of Pembroke, Selden, and, above all, Archbishop Laud, greatly inj- proved the Bodleian library. It became, especially through the munificence of that prelate, extremely rich in Oriental manu- scripts. The Duke of Buckingham pre- sented a collection made by Erpenius to the public library at Cambridge, which, though far behind that of the sister uni- versity, was enriched by many donations, and became very considerable. Usher formed the library of Trinity College, Dublin ; a university founded on the Eng- lish model, with noble revenues, and a corporate body of fellows and scholars to enjoy them. 41. A catalogue of the Bodleian library was published by James in 1620. r ata !ogue It contains about 20,000 articles, of Bodfeian Of these, no great number are in m ' rar y- English, and such as there are chiefly since the year 1600 ; Bodley, perhaps, had been rather negligent of poetry and plays. The editor observes that there were in the library three or four thousand volumes in modern languages. This catalog'ue is not classed, but alphabetical ; which James mentions as something new, remarking, at the same time, the difficulty of classifica- tion, and that in the German catalogues we find grammars entered under the head of philosophy. One published by Draud, Bibliotheca Classica, sive Catalogus Offi- cinalis, Frankfort, 1625, is hardly worth mention. It professes to be a general list of printed books; but, as the number seems to be not more than 30,000, all in Latin, it must be very defective. About two fifths of the whole are theological. A catalogue of the library of Sion College, founded in 1631, was printed in 1650 ; it contains eight or nine thousand volumes. f 42. The library of Leyden had been founded by the first Prince of continental Orange. Scaliger bequeathed libraries. his own to it ; and it obtained the Oriental manuscripts of Golius. A catalogue had been printed by Peter Bertius as early as 1597. 1 Many public and private libraries either now began to be formed in France, or received great accessions ; among the latter, those of the historian De Thou, and the president Seguier.fy No German li- brary, after that of Vienna, had been so considerable as one formed in the course of several ages by the Electors Palatine at Heidelberg. It contained many rare manuscripts. On the capture of the city by Tilly in 1622, he sent a number of these * Casaub., Epist. 899. t In Museo Britannico. t Jugler, Hist. Lilteraria, c. 3. Id. ibid FROM 1606 TO 1650. 269 lo Rome, and they long continued to sleep in the recesses of the Vatican. Napoleon, emulous of such a precedent, obtained thirty-eight of the Heidelberg manuscripts by the treaty of Tolentino, which were transmitted to Paris. On the restitution of these in 1815, it was justly thought that prescription was not to be pleaded by Rome for the rest of the plunder, especially when she was recovering what she had lost by the same right of spoliation ; and the whole collection has been replaced in the library of Heidelberg. 43. The Italian academies have been Italian often represented as partaking in academies, the alleged decline of literary spirit during the first part of the seven- teenth century. Nor is this reproach* a new one. Boccalini, after the commence- ment of this period, tells us that these in- stitutions, once so famous, had fallen into decay, their ardent zeal in literary exer- cises and discussions having abated by time, so that while they had once been frequented by private men, and esteemed by princes, they were now abandoned and despised by all. They petition Apollo, therefore, in a chapter of his Ragguagli di Parnasso, for a reform. But the god re- plies that all things have their old age and decay, and as nothing can prevent the neatest pair of slippers from wearing out, so nothing can rescue academies from a similar lot ; hence he can only advise them to suppress the worst, and to supply their places by others.* If only such a counsel were required, the institution of academies in general would not. perish. And, in fact, we really find that, while some societies of j this class came to nothing, as is always the case with self-constituted bodies, the sev- enteenth century had births of its own to boast, not inferior to the older progeny of the last age. The Academy of Humorists at Rome was one of these. It arose casually at the marriage of a young noble- man of the Mancini family, and took the same line as many had done, reciting verses and discourses, or occasionally rep- resenting plays. The tragedy of Deme- trius, by Rocco, one of this academy, is reckoned among the best of the age. The Apatisti of Florence took their name from Fioretti, who had assumed the appellation of Udeno Nisielo, Academico Apatista. The Rozzi of Siena, whom the government had suppressed in 1568, revived again in 1605, and rivalled another society of the same city, the Intronati. The former es- pecially dedicated their time to pastoral, in the rustic dialect (comedia rusticale), a * Ragg., xviii., c. 1. species of dramatic writing that might amuse at the moment, and was designed for no other end, though several of these farces are extant.* 44. The Academy della Crusca, which had more solid objects for the The advantages of letters in view, has been mentioned in another place. But that of the Lincei, founded by Frederic Cesi, stands upon a higher ground than any of the rest. This young man was born at Rome in 1585, son of the duke of Acqua Sparta, a father and a family known only for their pride and ignorance. But nature had created in Cesi a philosophic mind; in conjunction w,ith a few of similar dispositions, he gave his entire regard to science, and projected himself, at the age of eighteen, an academy, that is, a private association of friends for intellectual pur- suits, which, with reference to their desire of piercing with acute discernment into the depths of truth, he denominated the Lynxes. Their device was that animal, with its eyes turned towards heaven, and tearing a Cerberus with its claws ; thus intimating that they were prepared for war against error and falsehood. The Church, always suspicious, and inclined to make common cause with all establish- ed tenets, gave them some trouble, though neither theology nor politics entered into their scheme. This embraced, as in their academies, poetry and elegant literature ; but physical science was their peculiar object. Porta, Galileo, Colonna, and many other distinguished men, both of Italy and the Transalpine countries, were enrolled among the Lynxes ; and Cesi is said to have framed rather a visionary plan of a general combination of philosophers, in the manner of the Pythagoreans, which should extend itself to every part of Eu- rope. The constitutions of this imaginary order were even published in 16-24 ; they are sucli as could not have been realized, but, from the organization and secrecy that seem to have been their elements, might not improbably have drawn down a persecution upon themselves, or even ren- dered the name of philosophy obnoxious. Cesi died in 1630, and his academy ol Lynxes did not long survive the loss ol their chief.f 45. The tide of public opinion had hith- erto set regularly in one diroc- prejudice foi tion ; ancient times, ancient antiquity di- learning, ancient wisdom and m virtue, were regarded with unqualified veneration ; the very course of nature * Salfi, vol. xii. t Id., xi., 102. Tiraboschi, xi., 42, 243. 270 LITERATURE OF EUROPE was hardly believed to be the same, and a common degeneracy was thought to have overspread the earth and its inhabitants. This had been at its height in the first century after the revival of letters, the prejudice in favour of the past, always current with the old, who affect to dictate the maxims of experience, conspiring with the genuine lustre of classical literature and ancient history, which dazzled the youthful scholar. But this aristocracy of learning was now assailed by a new pow- er, which had risen up in sufficient strength to dispute the pre-eminence. We, said Bacon, are the true ancients ; what we call the antiquity of the world was but^ts infancy. This thought, equally just and brilliant, was caught up and echoed by many ; it will be repeatedly found in later works. It became a question whether the moderns had not really left behind their progenitors ; and, though it has been hinted that a dwarf on a giant's shoulders sees farther than the giant, this is, in one sense, to concede the point in dispute.* 46. Tassoni was one of the first who combated the established prejudice by maintaining that modern times are not inferior to ancient ; it well became his Intrepid disposition.! But Lancilotti, an Italian ecclesiastic, and member of sev- eral academies, pursued this subject in an elaborate work, intended to prove, first, that the world was neither morally worse nor more afflicted by calamities than it had been ; secondly, that the intellectual abilities of mankind had not degenerated. It bears the general title L'Hoggidi, To- Day ; and is, throughout, a ridicule of those whom he calls Hoggidiani, perpetual de- claimers against the present state of things. He is a very copious and learned writer, and no friend to antiquity ; each chapter being entitled Disinganno, and intended to remove some false prejudice. The first part of this work appeared in 1623, the second after the author's death, not till 1658. Lancilotti wrote another book with somewhat a similar object, en- titled Farfalloni degF Antichi Istorici, and designed to turn the ancient historians into ridicule ; with a good deal of pleas- antry, but chiefly on account of stories which no one in his time would have be- lieved. The same ground was taken * Ac quemadmodum pygmaeus humeris gigantis insidens longius quarn gigas prospicere, neque ta- men se gigante majorem habere aut sibi mullum tribuere potest.ita nos veterum laboribus vigilijsque in nostros usus conversis adjicere aliquid, non su- percilia tollere, aut parvi facere, qui ante nos fue- runt, debemus. Cyprianus, Vita Campanellae, p. 15. t Salfi, xi., 381. soon afterward by an English divine, George Hake will, in his " Apology, or Declaration of the Power and Providence of God in the Government of the World," published in 1627. This is designed to prove that there is not that perpetual and universal decay in nature which many suppose. It is an elaborate refutation of many absurd notions which seem to have prevailed ; some believing that even phys- ical nature, the sun and stars, the earth and waters, were the worse for wear. A greater number thought this true of man ; his age, his size, his strength, his powers of mind were all supposed to have been deteriorated. Hakewill patiently and learnedly refuted all this. The moral character of antiquity he shows to be much exaggerated, animadverting espe- cially on the Romans. The most re- markable, and certainly the most disputa- ble chapters, are those which relate to the literary merits of ancient and modern times. He seems to be one of the first who ventured to put in a claim for the latter. In this he anticipates Wotton, who had more to say. Hakewill goes much too far in calling Sidney's Arcadia " nothing inferior to the choicest piece among the ancients ;" and even thinks " he should not much wrong Virgil by matching him with Du Bartas." The learning shown in this treatise is very extensive, but Hakewiil has no taste, and cannot perceive any real superiority in the ancients. Compared with Lancilotti, he is much inferior in liveliness, perhaps even in learning ; but I have not ob- served that he has borrowed anything from the Italian, whose publication was but four years earlier. 47. Browne's Inquiry into Vulgar Er- rors displays a great deal of erudi- Browne's tion, but scarcely raises a high no- vulgar tion of Browne himself as a phi- Errors - losopher, or of the state of physical knowledge in England. The errors he indicates are such as none but illiterate persons, we should think, were likely to hold ; and I believe that few on the Con- tinent, so late as 1646, would have re- quired to have them exploded with such an ostentation of proof. Who did not know that the phoenix is a fable 1 Browne was where the learned in Eu- rope had been seventy years before, and seems to have been one of those who saturate their minds with bad books till they have little room for anything new that is better. A man of so much cre- dulity and such an irregular imagination as Browne was almost sure to believe in witchcraft and all sorts of spiritual agen- FROM 1600 TO 1650. 271 cies. In no respect did he go in advance of his age, unless we make an exception for his declaration against persecution. He seems to have been fond of those tri- fling questions which the bad taste of the schoolmen and their contemporaries in- troduced ; as whether a man has fewer ribs than a woman ; whether Adam and Eve had navels ; whether Methusaleh was the oldest man ; the problems of children put to adults. With a strong curiosity and a real love of truth, Browne is a striking instance of a merely empirical mind ; he is at sea with sails and a rud- der, but withoui a compass or logbook ; and has so little notion of any laws of nature, or of any inductive reasoning ei- ther as to efficient or final causes, that he never seems to judge anything to be true or false except by experiment. 48. In concluding our review of the six- Life and teenth century, we selected Pi- character nelli, as a single model of the Peiresc. ]j terar y character, which, loving and encouraging knowledge, is yet too little distinguished by any writings to fall naturally within the general subject of these volumes. The period which wo now bring to a close will furnish us with a much more considerable instance. Nic- olas Peiresc was born in 1580, of an an- cient family in Provence, which had for some generations held judicial offices in the Parliament of Aix. An extraordinary thirst for every kind of knowledge char- acterized Peiresc from his early youth ; and, being of a weak constitution, as well as ample fortune, though he retained, like his family, an honourable post in the par- liament, his time was principally devoted to the multifarious pursuits of an enlight- ened scholar. Like Pinelli, he delighted in the rarities of art and antiquity ; but his own superior genius, and the vocation of that age towards science, led him on to a far more extensive field of inquiry. We have the life of Peiresc, written by his countryman and intimate friend Gassen- di ; and no one who has any sympathy with science or with a noble character will read it without pleasure. Few books, indeed, of that period are more full of casual information. 49. Peiresc travelled much in the early part of his life : he was 1 at Rome in 1600, and came to England and Holland in 1600. The hard drinking, even of our learned men,* disconcerted his southern stomach ; but he was repaid by the society of Cam- den, Savile, and Cotton. The king re- ceived Peiresc courteously, and he was present at the opening of Parliament. On returning to his native province, he began to form his extensive collections of mar- bles and medals, but especially of natural history in every line. He was, perhaps, the first who observed the structure of zoophytes, though he seems not to have suspected their animal nature. Petrifac- tions occupied much of his time ; and he framed a theory of them which Gassendi explains at length, but which, as might be expected, is not the truth.* Botany was * among his favourite studies, and Europe owes to him, according to Gassendi, the Indian jessamine, the gourd of Mecca, the real Egyptian papyrus, which is not that described by Prosper Alpinus. He first planted ginger, as well as many other Oriental plants, in a European garden, and also the cocoanut, from which, how- ever, he could not obtain fruit. 50. Peiresc was not less devoted to astronomy : he had no sooner heard of the discoveries of Galileo than he set himself to procure a telescope, and had, in the course of the same year, 1610, the pleasure of observing the moons of Jupi- ter. It even occurred to him that these might serve to ascertain the longitude, though he did not follow up the idea. Galileo, indeed, with a still more invent- ive mind, and with more of mathematics, seems to have stood in the way of Pei- resc. He took, as far as appears, no great pains to publish his researches, content- ing himself with the intercourse of litera- ry men who passed near him, or with whom he could maintain correspondence. Several discoveries are ascribed to him by Gassendi ; of their originality I cannot venture to decide. " From his retreat," says another biographer, " Peiresc gave more encouragement to letters than any prince ; more even than the Cardinal de Richelieu, who some time afterward found ed the French Academy. Worthy to have been called by Bayle the attorney -general of literature, he kept always on the level of progressive science, published manu- scripts at his own expense, followed the labours of the learned throughout Europe, and gave them an active impulse by his own aid." Scaliger, Salmasius, Holste- nius, Kircher, Mersenne, Grotius, Valois, are but some of the great names of Eu- rope whom he assisted by various kinds of liberality.f He published nothing him- self, but some of his letters have been collected. 51. The character of Peiresc was amia- ble and unreserved among his friends ; bui Gassendi, Vita Peiresc, p. 51. * P. 147. t Biogr. Universelle. 272 LITERATURE OF EUROPE he was too much absorbed in the love of j knowledge for insipid conversation. For , the same reason, his biographer informs us, he 'disliked the society of women, gaining nothing valuable from the trifles and scandal upon which alone they could converse.* Possibly the society of both sexes at Aix, in the age of Peiresc, was such as, with no excessive fastidiousness, he might avoid. In his eagerness for new truths he became somewhat credulous ; an error not, perhaps, easy to be avoided, while the accumulation of facts proceeded more rapidly than the ascertainment of natural laws. But for a genuine liberali ty of mind and extensive attainments in knowledge very few can be compared to Peirese ; nor, among those who have re- sembled him in this employment of wealth and leisure, do I know that any names have descended to posterity with equal lustre, except our two countrymen of the next generation, who approached so near- ly to his character and course of life, Boyle and Evelyn. CHAPTER I. HISTORY OF ANCIENT LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECTION I. Dutch Scholars. Jesuit and Jansenist Philologers. Delphin Editions. French Scholars. English Scholars. Bentley. 1. THE death of Salmasius, about the James Fred- beginning of this period, left a eric Grouo- chasm in critical literature which no one was equal to fill. But the nearest to this giant of philology was James Frederic Gronovius, a native of Hamburg, but drawn, like several more of his countrymen, to the universities of Holland, the peculiarly learned state of Europe through the seventeenth century. The principal labours of Gronovius were those of correcting the text of Latin wri- ters ; in Greek we find very little due to him.f His notes form a useful and con- siderable part of those which are collect- ed in what are generally styled the Vario- rum editions, published, chiefly after 1660, by the Dutch booksellers. These contain selections from the older critics, some of them, especially those fir^ edited, indif- ferently made, and often mutilated ; oth- ers with more attention to preserve entire the original notes. These, however, are, for the most part, only critical, as if ex- planatory observations were below the notice of an editor ; though, as Le Clerc says, those of Manutius on Cicero's epis- tles cost him much more time than mod- ern editors have given to their conjec- tures. J In general, the Variorum editions were not greatly prized, with the excep- tion of those by the two Gronovii and Grsevius.fy * Gapr.i'.i, p. 219. t Baillet. Critiques Grammairiens, n. 548. Blonnt Biogr. Univ. { Parrhasiana, i., 233. ng. works in the same line of criticism fol- lowed ; he is among the great ornaments of learning in this period. Nor was France destitute of others that did her honour. Cotelier, it is said, deserved by his knowledge of Greek to be placed on a level with the great scholars of former times. Yet there seems to have been some decline, at least towards the close of the century, in that prodigious erudition which had distinguished the preceding pe- riod. " For we know no one," says Le Clerc, about 1699, "who equals in learn- ing, in diligence, and in the quantity of his works, the Scaligers, the Lipsii, the Ca- saubons, the Salmasii, the Meursii, the Vossii, the Seldens, the Gronovii, and many more of former times."* Though perhaps in this reflection there was some- thing of the customary bias against the present generation, we must own that the writings of scholars were less massive, and, consequently, gave less apparent evi- dence of industry than formerly. But in classical philology at least, a better day was about to arise, and the first omen of it came from a country not yet much known in that literature. 11. It has been observed in the former part of this volume, that, while English England was very far from want- learning, ing men of extensive erudition, she Du P n - had not been at all eminent in classi- cal literature. The proof which the ab- sence of critical writings, or even of any respectable editions, furnishes, appears weighty; nor can it be repelled by suffi- cient testimony. In the middle of the century, James Duport, Greek professor at Cambridge, deserves honour by stand- ing almost alone. " He appears," says a late biographer, " to have been the main instrument by which literature was upheld in this university during the civil disturb- ances of the seventeenth century ; and, though little known at present, he enjoyed an almost transcendant reputation for a great length of time among his contem- poraries, as well as in the generation winch immediately succeeded."! Duport, how- ever, has little claim to this reputation ex- * Parrhasiana, vol. L, p. 225. Je viens d'appren- dre, says Charles Patin in one of his letters, que M. Gronovius est mort & Leyden. II restoit pres- que tout seul du nombre des savans d'Hollande. II n'est plus dans ce pais-la des gens fails comrr.e Jos Scaliger, Baudius, Heinsius, Salmasius, et Grotius. (P. 582.) t Museum Criticum, vol. ii., p. 672 (by the Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol). FROM 1650 TO 1700. 275 cept by translations of the writings of Solomon, the book of Job, and the Psalms, into Greek hexameters, concerning which his biographer gently intimates that "his notions of versification were not formed in a severe or critical school," and by what has certainly been more esteemed, his Homeri Gnomologia, which Le Clerc and Bishop Monk agree to praise, as very use- ful to the student of Homer. Duport gave also some lectures on Theophrastus about 1656, which were afterward published in Needham's edition of that author. " In these," says Le Clerc, " he explains words with much exactness, and so as to show that he understood the analogy of the language."* " They are, upon the whole, calculated," says the Bishop of Gloucester, "to give no unfavourable opinion of the state of Greek learning in the University at that memorable crisis." 12. It cannot be fairly said that our Greek not universities declined in general much stud- learning under the usurpation of Cromwell. They contained, on the contrary, more extraordinary men than in any earlier period, but not generally well affected to the predominant power. Greek, however, seems not much to have flourish- ed, even immediately after the restoration. Barrow, who was chosen Greek professor in 1660, complains that no one attended his lectures. "I sit like an Attic owl," he says, " driven out from the society of all other birds. "f According, indeed, to the scheme of study retained from a more barbarous age, no knowledge of the Greek language appears to have been required from the students as necessary for their degrees. And if we may believe a satiri- cal writer of the time of Charles II., but one whose satire had great circulation and was not taxed with falsehood, the gen- eral state of education, both in the schools and universities, was as narrow, pedantic, and unprofitable as can be conceived. J 13. We were not, nevertheless, desti- Gataker-s tute of men distinguished for Cinnus and critical skill, even from the com- Antoninus. mencemen t O f this period. The first was a very learned divine, Thomas Gataker, 0113 whom a foreign writer has * Bibliotheque Choisie, xxv., 18. t See a biographical memoir of Barrow prefixed to Hus;hps's edition of his works. This contains a sketch of studies pursued in the University of Cam- bridge from the twelfth to the seventeenth century ; brief, in-leed, but such as I should have been glad to have seon before, p. 62. No alteration in the stat- utes, so far as they related to study, was made af- ter the time of Henry VIII. or Edward VI. J Eachard's Grounds and Occasions of the Con- tempt of the Clergy. This little tract was published IK 1670, and went 'through ten editions by 1696. placed among the six Protestants most conspicuous, in his judgment, for depth of reading. His Cinnus, sive Adversaria Mis- cellanea, published in 1651, to which a longer work, entitled Adversaria Posthu- ma, is subjoined in later editions, may be introduced here ; since, among a far great- er number of Scriptural explanations, both of these miscellanies contain many re- lating to profane antiquity. He claims a higher place for his edition of Marcus Antoninus the next year. This is the earliest edition, if I am not mistaken, of any classical writer published in England with original annotations. Those of Ga- takcr evince a very copious learning, and the edition is still, perhaps, reckoned the best that has been given of this author. 14. Thomas Stanley, author of the His- tory of Ancient Philosophy, un- Stanley's dertook a more difficult task, and ^schyius. gave, in 1603, his celebrated edition of ^Eschylus. It was, as every one has ad- mitted, by far superior to any that had preceded it ; nor can Stanley's real praise be effaced, though it may be diminished, by an unfortunate charge that has been brought against him, of having appropria- ted to himself the conjectures, most of them unpublished, of Casaubon, Dorat, and Scaliger, to the number of at least 300 emendations of the text. It will hardly be reckoned a proof of our nationality, thai a living English scholar was the first to detect and announce this plagiarism of a critic, in whom we had been accustomed to take pride, from these foreigners.* Af- ter these plumes have been withdrawn, Stanley's ^Eschylus will remain a great monument of critical learning. 15. Meric Casaubon by his notes on Per- sius, Antoninus, and Diogenes other English Laertius, Pearson by those on phiioiogers. the last author, Gale on lamblichus, Price on Apuleius, Hudson by his editions of Thucydides and Josephus, Potter by that of Lycophron, Baxter of Anacreon, attest- ed the progress of classical learning in a soil so well fitted to give it nourishment. The same William Baxter published the first grammar, not quite elementary, which had appeared in England, entitled De An- alogia, seu Arte Latinae Linguae Commen- tarius. It relates principally to etymolo- gy, and to the deduction of the different parts of the verb from a stem, which he conceives to be the imperative mood. Baxter was a man of some ability, but, in the style of critics, offensively contemp- tuous towards his brethren of the craft. * Edinburgh Review, xix., 494. Museum Criti- cum, ii., 498 (both by the Bishop of London). 276 LITERATURE OF EUROPE 16. We must hasten to the greatest of Bentiey. English critics in this, or, possi- Hts epistle bly, any other age, Richard Bent- to Mm. i ev His first book was the Epis- tle to Mill, subjoined to the latter's edition of the chronicle of John Malala, a Greek writer of the lower empire. In a desul- tory and almost garrulous strain, Bentiey pours forth an immense store of novel learning and of acute criticism, especially on his favourite subject, which was des- tined to become his glory, the scattered relics of the ancient dramatists. The style of Bentiey, always terse and lively, sometimes humorous and dryly sarcastic, whether he wrote in Latin or in English, could not but augment the admiration which his learning challenged. Graevius and Spanheim pronounced him the rising star of British literature, and a correspond- ence with the former began in 1692, which continued in unbroken friendship till his death. 17. But the rare qualities of Bentiey Dissertation were more abundantly displayed, on Phaiaris. an d before the eyes of a more numerous tribunal, in his famous disser- tation on the epistles ascribed to Phaiaris. This was provoked, in the first instance, by a few lines of eulogy on these epistles by Sir William Temple, who pretended to find in them indubitable marks of authen- ticity. Bentiey, in a dissertation subjoin- ed to Wotton's Reflections on Modern and Ancient Learning, gave tolerably conclu- sive proofs of the contrary. A young man of high family and respectable learning, Charles Boyle, had published an edition of the Epistles of Phaiaris, with some reflec- tion on Bentiey for personal incivility ; a charge which he seems to have satisfac- torily disproved. Bentiey animadverted on this in his dissertation. Boyle, the next year, with the assistance of some leading men at Oxford, Aldrich, King, and Atter- bury, published his Examination of Bent- ley's Dissertation on Phaiaris ; a book generally called, in familiar brevity, Boyle against Bentiey.* The Cambridge giant of criticism replied in an answer which goes by the name of Bentiey against Boyle. It was the first great literary war that had been waged in England ; and, like that of Troy, it has still the preroga- tive of being remembered after the Epis- tles of Phaiaris are almost as much buried as the walls of Troy itself. Both combat- ants were skilful in wielding the sword : * " The principal share in the undertaking fell to the lot of Atterbury ; this was suspected at the time, and has since been placed beyond all doubt by the publication of a letter of his to Boyle." Monk's Life of Bentiey, p. 69. the arms of Boyle, in Swift's language, were given him by all the gods ; but his antagonist stood forward in no such figu- rative strength, master of a learning to which nothing parallel had been known in England, and that directed by an under- standing prompt, discriminating, not idly skeptical, but still farther removed from trust in authority, sagacious in perceiving corruptions of language, and ingenious, at the least, in removing them, with a style rapid, concise, amusing, and superior to Boyle in that which he had most to boast, a sarcastic wit.* 18. It may now seem extraordinary to us, even without looking at the anachro- nisms or similar errors which Bentiey has exposed, that any one should be deceived by the Epistles of Phaiaris. The rhetor- ical commonplaces, the cold declamation of the sophist, the care to please the read- er, the absence of that simplicity, with which a man who has never known re- straint in disguising his thoughts or choos- ing his words is sure to express himself, strike us in the pretended letters of this buskined tyrant, the Icon Basilice of the ancient world. But this was doubtless thought evidence of their authenticity by many, who might say, as others have done in a happy vein of metaphor, that they seemed not written with a pen, but with a sceptre. The argument from the use of the Attic dialect by a Sicilian tyrant, con- temporary with Pythagoras, is of itself conclusive, and would leave no doubt in the present day. 19. "It may be remarked," says the Bishop of Gloucester. " that a Disadvan . scholar at that time possessed tages of neither the aids nor the encour- ^ t ol "g in agements which are now pre- sented to smooth the paths of literature. The grammars of the Latin and Greek languages were imperfectly and errone- ously taught; and the critical scholar must have felt severely the absence of * " In point of classical learning, the joint stock of the confederacy bore no proportion to that of Bentiey ; their acquaintance with several of the hooks upon which they comment appears only to have begun on that occasion, and sometimes they are indebted for their knowledge of them to their adversary ; compared with his boundless erudition, their learning was that of schoolboys, and not al- ways sufficient to preserve them from distressing mistakes. But profound literature was at that pe- riod confined to few, while wit and raillery found numerous and eager readers. It may be doubtful whether Busby himself, by whom every one of the confederated band had been educated, possessed knowledge which would have qualified him to enter the lists in such a controversy." Monk's Bentiey, p. 69. Warburton has justly said, that Bentiey, by his wit, foiled the Oxford men at their own weapons. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 277 sufficient indexes, particularly of the volu- minous scholiasts, grammarians, and later writers of Greece, in the examination of which no inconsiderable portion of a life might be consumed. Bentley, relying upon his own exertions and the resources of his own mind, pursued an original path of criticism, in which the intuitive quick- ness and subtlety of his genius qualified him to excel. In the faculty of memory, so important for such pursuits, he has himself candidly declared that he was not particularly gifted. Consequently, he prac- tised throughout life the precaution of noting in the margin of his books the sug- gestions and conjectures which rushed into his mind during their perusal. To this habit of laying up materials in store we may partly attribute the surprising ra- pidity with which some of his most im- portant works were completed. He was also at the trouble of constructing for his own use indexes of authors quoted' by the principal scholiasts, by Eustathius and oth- er ancient commentators, of a nature sim- ilar to those afterward published by Fa- bricius in his Bibliotheca Graeca; which latter were the produce of the joint labour of various hands."* SECT. II. ON ANTIQUITIES. Graevius and Gronovius. Fabretti. Numismatic Writers. Chronology. 20. THE two most industrious scholars Thesauri of of their time, Graevius and Gro- Gravius and novius, collected into one body ofGronovius. such of the numerous treatises on Roman and Greek antiquities as they thought most worthy of preservation in a uniform and accessible work. These form the Thesaurus Antiquitatum Roman- arum by Graevius, in twelve volumes, the Thesaurus Antiquitatum Graecarum by Gronovius, in thirteen volumes ; the for- mer published in 1694, the first volumes of the latter in 1697. They comprehend many of the labours of the older antiqua- ries already commemorated from the mid- dle of the sixteenth to that of the seven- teenth century, and some also of a later date. Among these, in the collection of Graevius, are a treatise of Albert Rubens, son of the great painter, on the dress of the Romans, particularly the laticlave (Antwerp, 1665). the enlarged edition of Octavius Ferrarius on the same subject, several treatises by Spanheim and Ursa- tus, and the Roma Antiea of Nardina, Monk's Life of Bentley, p. 12. published in 1666. Gronovius gave a place in his twelfth volume (1702) to the very recent work of a young Englishman. Potter's Antiquities, which the author, at the request of the veteran antiquary, had so much enlarged, that the Latin transla- tion in Gronovius is nearly double in length the first edition of the English.* The warm eulogies of Gronovius attest the merit of this celebrated work. Pot- ter was but twenty-three years of age ; he had, of course, availed himself of the wri- tings of Meursius, but he has also contrib- uted to supersede them. It has been said that he is less exact in attending to the difference of times and places than our finer criticism requires.! 21. Bellori in a long list of antiquarian writings, Falconieri in several more, FabrettL especially his Inscriptiones Athlct- icag, maintained the honour of Italy in this province, so justly claimed as her own.J But no one has been accounted equal to Raphael Fabretti, by judges so competent as Maffei, Gravina, Fabroni, and Viscon- ti.fy His diligence in collecting inscrip- tions was only surpassed by his sagacity in explaining them ; and his authority has been preferred to that of any other anti- quary. || His time was spent in delving among ruins and vaults to explore the sub- terranean treasures of Latium ; no heat, , nor cold, nor rain, nor badness of road could deter him from these solitary pere- grinations. Yet the glory of Fabretti must be partly shared with his horse. This wise and faithful animal, named Mar- co Polo, had acquired, it is said, the habit of standing still, and, as it were, pointing when he came near an antiquity ; his master candidly owning that several things which would have escaped him had been detected by the antiquarian quadru- ped. Tf Fabretti's principal works are three dissertations on the Roman aqueducts, and one on the Trajan column. Little, says Fabroni, was known before about the Roman galleys or their naval affairs in general.** Fabretti was the first who reduced lapidary remains into classes, and arranged them so as to illustrate each other ; a method, says one of his most distinguished successors, which has laid the foundations of the science. tf A pro- fusion of collateral learning is mingled * The first edition of Potter's Antiquities was published in 1697 and 1698. t Bio^r Univ. J Salfi, vol. xi., 364. Fabretti's life has been written by two very fa- vourahle biographers. Fabroni, in Vitae Italorum, vol. vi , and Visconti, in the Biographic Universelle. II Fabroni, p. 187. BiogrUniv. If Fabroni, p. 192. * P. 201. -ft Biogr. Univ 278 LITERATURE OF EUROPE with the main stream of all his investiga- tions. 22. No one had ever come to the study Knmismat- f ne dals with such stores of its: Span- erudition as Ezekiel Spanheim. tan? 1 ' VaU " The earlier writers on the sub- ject, Vico,Erizzo,Angeloni, were not comparable to him, and had rather dwelt on the genuineness or rarity of coins than on their usefulness in illustra- ting history. Spanheim's Dissertations on the Use of Medals, the second improved edition of which appeared in 1671, first connected them with the most profound and critical research into antiquity.* Vail- lant, travelling into the Levant, brought home great treasures of Greek coinage, especially those of the Seleucidas, at once enriching the cabinets of the curious and establishing historical truth. Medallic evidence, in fact, may be reckoned among those checks upon the negligence of his- torians, which, having been retrieved by industrious antiquaries, have created that cautious and discerning spirit which has been exercised in later times upon facts, and which, beginning in skepticism, pass- es onward to a more rational, and, there- fore, more secure conviction of what can fairly be proved. Jobert, in 1692, consol- idated the researches of Spanheim, Vail- laht, and other numismatic writers in his book, entitled La Science des Medailles, a better system of the science than had been published.! 23. It would, of course, not be difficult Chronology: to fill these pages with brief no- Usher, tices of other books that fall within the extensive range of classical antiquity. But we have no space for more than a mere enumeration, which would give little satisfaction. Chronology has received some attention in our former volume. Our learned Archbishop Usher might there have been named, since the first part of his Annals of the Old Testa- ment, which goes down to the year of the world 3828, was published in 1650. The second part followed in 1654. This has been the chronology generally adopted by English historians, as well as by Bossuet, Calmet, and Rollin, so that for many years it might be called the orthodox scheme of Europe. No former annals of the world had been so exact in marking dates and collating sacred history with profane. It was, therefore, exceedingly convenient for those who, possessing no sufficient leisure or learning for these inquiries, might very reasonably confide in such authority. 24. Usher, like Scaliger and Petavius, * Bibl. Choisie, vol. xxii. f Biogr. Univ. had strictly conformed to the He- brew chronology in all scriptural dates. But it is well known that the Sep- tuagint version, and also the Samaritan Pentateuch, differ greatly from the He- brew and from each other, so that the age of the world has nearly 2000 years more antiquity in the Greek than in the original text. Jerome had followed the latter in the Vulgate ; and, in the seven- teenth century, it was usual to maintain the incorrupt purity of the Hebrew man- uscripts, so that when Pezron, in his An- tiquite des Temps Devoilee, 1687, attempt- ed to establish the Scptuagint chronology, it excited a clamour in some of his church as derogatory to the Vulgate translation. Martianay defended the received chronol- ogy, and the system of Pezron gained lit- tle favour in that age.* It has since be- come more popular, chiefly, perhaps, on account of the greater latitude it gives to speculations on the origin of kingdoms and other events of the early world, which are certainly somewhat cramped in the common reckoning. But the Septusigint chronology is not free from its own diffi- culties, and the internal evidence seems rather against its having been the origi- nal. Where two must be wrong, it is possible that all three may be so ; and the most judicious inquirers into ancient his- tory have of late been coming to the opinion that, with some few exceptions, there are no means of establishing accu- rate dates before the Olympiads. While the more ancient history itself, even in leading and important events, is so pre- carious at> must be acknowledged, there can be little confidence in chronological schemes. They seem, however, to be very seducing, so that those who enter upon the subject as skeptics become be- lievers in their own theory. 25. Among those who addressed their attention to particular portions of ., i CM- TUTU u Marsham. chronology, Sir John Marsham ought to be mentioned. In his Canon Chronicus jEgyptiacus he attempted, as the learned were still more prone than they are now, to reconcile conflicting au- thorities without rejecting any. He is said to have first started the ingenious idea that the Egyptian dynasties, stretch- ing to such immense antiquity, were not successive, but collateral. f Marsham fell, like many others after him. into the un- fortunate mistake of confounding Sesos- tris with Sesac. But in times when dis- * Biogr. Univ., arts Pezrcn and Martianay Bibliothfeque Univ., xxiv., 103. t Biogr. Britannica. I have some suspicion that this will be found in Lydiat. FROM 1650 TO 1700. coveries that Marsham could not have anticipated were yet at a distance, he is extolled by most of those who had labour- ed, by help of the Greek and Hebrew 279 writers alone, to fix ancient history on a stable foundation, as the restorer of the Egyptian annals. CHAPTER II. HISTORY OF THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECTION I. Papal Power limited by the Gallican Church. Dupiu. Fleury. Protestant Controversy. Bossuet : his Assaults on Protestantism. Jan- senism. Progress of Armmianistn m England. Trinitarian Controversy. Defences of Chris- tianity. Pascal's Thoughts. Toleration. Boyle. Locke. French Sermons And Eng- lish. Other Theological Works. 1. IT has been observed in a former part Duciine of f tn ^ s v l ume > that while little papal influ- or no decline could be perceived ence - in the general Church of Rome at the conclusion of that period which we then had before us, yet the papal authori- ty itself had lost a part of that formidable character which, through the Jesuits, and especially Bellarmin. it had some years before assumed. This was now stiil more decidedly manifest : the temporal power over kings was not certainly renounced, for Rome never retracts anything; nor was it, perhaps, without Italian Jesuits to write in its behalf ; but the common con- sent of nations rejected it so strenuously, that on no occasion has it been brought forward by any accredited or eminent ad- vocate. There was also a growing dis- position to control the court of Rome ; the treaty of Westphalia was concluded in ut- ter disregard of her protest. But such matters of history do not bfelong to us, when they do not bear a close relation to the warfare of the pen. Some events there were which have had a remarkable influence on the theological literature of France, and indirectly of the rest of Eu- rope. 2. Louis XIV., more arrogant, in his earlier life, than bigoted, became LMas'xiv. involved in a contest with Inno- with iniio- cent XL, by a piece of his usual cent xi despotism and contempt of his subjects' rights. He extended in 1673 the ancient prerogative, called the regale, by which the king enjoyed the revenues of vacant bishoprics, to all the kingdom, though many sees had been legally ex- empt from it. Two bishops appealed to the pope, who interfered in their favour more peremptorily than the times would permit. Innocent, it is but just to say, was maintaining the fair rights of the Church rather than any claim of his own. But the dispute took at length a different form. France was rich in prelates of emi- nent worth, and among such, as is evident, the Cisalpine theories had never lain dor- mant since the councils of Constance and Basle. Louis convened the famous as- sembly of the Gallican clergy in 1682. Bossuet, who is said to have felt some apprehensions lest the spirit of resistance should become one of rebellion, was ap- pointed to open this assembly ; and his sermon on that occasion is among his most splendid works. His posture was indeed magnificent ; he stands forward, not so much the minister of religion as her arbitrator; we see him poise in his hands earth and heaven, and draw that boundary-line which neither was to trans- gress ; he speaks the language of reveren- tial love towards the Mother-church, that of St. Peter, and the fairest of her daugh- ters to which he belongs, conciliating their transient feud ; yet in this majestic tone which he assumes, no arrogance betrays itself, no thought of himself as one en- dowed with transcendant influence ; he speaks for the Church, and yet we feel that he raises himself above those for whom he speaks.* 3. Bossuet was finally intrusted with drawing up the four articles, Four articles which the assembly, rather at ofiesa. the instigation, perhaps, of Colbert than of its own accord, promulgated as the Galli- can Creed on the limitations of papal authority. These declare : 1. That kings are subject to no ecclesiastical power in temporals, nor can be deposed directly or indirectly by the chiefs of the Church : 2. That the decrees of the Council of Con- stance as to the papal authority are in full force, and ought to be observed : 3. That this authority can only be exerted in con- formity with the canons received in the Gallican Church : 4. That, though the pope * This sermon will be found in (Euvres de Bo suet, vol. ix. 280 LITERATURE OF EUROPE has the principal share in determining controversies of faith, and his decrees ex- tend to all churches, they are not absolute- ly final, unless the consent of the Catholic Church be superadded. It appears that some bishops would have willingly used stronger language, but Bossuet foresaw the risk of an absolute schism. Even thus the Gallican Church approached so nearly to it, that, the pope refusing the usual bulls to bishops nominated by the king according to the concordat, between thirty and forty sees, at last, were left vacant. No reconciliation was effected till 1693, in the pontificate of Innocent XII. It is to be observed, whether the French writers slur this over or not, that the pope gained the honours of war ; the bishops who had sat in the assembly of 1682 writing separately letters which have the appearance of regretting, if not retracting, what they had done. These were, however, worded 'with intentional equivocation ; and, as the court of Rome yields to none in suspecting the subter- fuges of words, it is plain that it contented itself with an exterior humiliation of its adversaries. The old question of the re- gale was tacitly abandoned ; Louis en- joyed all he had desired, and Rome might justly think herself not bound to fight for the privileges of those who had made her so bad a return.* 5. The doctrine of the four articles Uupmonthe gained ground, perhaps, in the ancient dts- Church of France through a cipime. work of great boldness, and de- riving authority from the learning and judgment of its author, Dupin. In the height of the contest, while many were considering how far the Gallican Church might dispense with the institution of bishops at Rome, that point in the estab- lished system which evidently secured the victory to their antagonist, in the year 1686, he published a treatise on the ancient discipline of the Church. It is written in Latin, which he probably chose as less obnoxious than his own language. It may be true, which I cannot affirm or deny, that each position in this work had been advanced before ; but the general tone seems undoubtedly more adverse to the papal supremacy than any book which could have come from a man of reputed orthodoxy. It tends, notwithstanding a * I have derived most of this account from Baus- set's life of Bossuet, vol. ii. Both the bishop and his biographer shuffle a good deal about the letter of the Gallican prelates in 1693. But when the Roman legions had passed under the yoke at the Caudine forks, they were ready to take up arms again. few necessary admissions, to represent almost all that can be called power or jurisdiction in the see of Rome as ac- quired, if not abusive, and would leave, in a practical sense, no real pope at all ; mere primacy being a trifle, and even the right of interfering by admonition being of no great value when there was no definite obligation to obey. The principle of Dupin is, that the Church having reached her perfection in the fourth century, we should endeavour, as far as circumstances will admit, to restore the discipline of that age. But even in the Gallican Church it has generally been held that he has urged his arguments farther than is consistent with a necessary subordination to Rome.* 6. In the same year Dupin published the first volume of a more celebrated Dupin . s Ec . work, his Nouvelle Bibliotheque ciesiasticai des Auteurs Ecclesiastiques, a Llbrar y- complete history of theological literature, at least within the limits of the Church, which, in a long series of volumes, he finally brought clown to the close of the seventeenth century. It is unquestion- ably the most standard work of that kind extant, whatever deficiencies may have been found in its execution. The im- mense erudition requisite for such an undertaking may have rendered it inevi- table to take some things at second hand, or to fall into some errors ; and we may add other causes less necessary, the youth of the writer in the first volumes, and the rapidity with which they appeared. Integ- rity, love of truth, and moderation distin- guish this ecclesiastical history, perhaps, beyond any other. Dupin is often near the frontier of orthodoxy ; but he is careful, even in the eyes of jealous Catholics, not quite to overstep it. This work was soon translated into English, and furnished a large part of such knowledge on the sub- ject as our own divines possessed. His free way of speaking, however, on the Roman supremacy and some other points, excited the animadversion of more rigid persons, and, among others, of Bossuet, who stood on his own vantage-ground, ready to strike on every side. The most impartial critics have been of Dupin's mind ; but Bossuet, like all dogmatic champions of orthodoxy, never sought truth by an analytical process of inves- tigation, assuming his own possession of it as an axiom in the controversy.! * Bibliotheque Universelle, vi., 109. The book is very clear, concise, and learned, so that it is worth reading through by those who would under- stand such matters. I have not observed that it is much quoted by English writers. t Bibliotheque Universelle, iii., 39; vii., 335; FROM 1650 TO 1700. 281 7. Dupin was followed a few years af- Fieury's EC- terward by one not his superior ciesmsticai in learning and candour (though History. deficient in neither), but in skill of narration and beauty of style, Claude Fleury. The first volume of his Ecclesi- astical History came forth in 1691 ; but a part only of the long series falls within this century. The learning of Fleury has been said to be frequently not original ; and his prolixity to be too great for an el- ementary historian. The former is only blameable when he has concealed his im- mediate authorities ; few works of great magnitude have been written wholly from the prime sources ; with regard to his dif- fuseness, it is very convenient to those who want access to the original writers, or leisure to collate them. Fleury has been called by some credulous and uncrit- ical ; but he is esteemed faithful, moder- ate, and more respectful or cautious than Dupin. Yet many of his volumes are a continual protest against the vices and ambition of the mediaeval popes, and his Ecclesiastical History must be reckoned among the causes of that estrangement, in spirit and affection, from the court of Rome which leavens the literature of France in the eighteenth century. 8. The dissertations of Fleury, inter- His Oisser- spersed with his history, were tations. more generally read and more conspicuously excellent. Concise, but neither dry nor superficial ; luminous, yet appearing simple ; philosophical without the affectation of profundity, seizing all that is most essential in their subject with- out the tediousness of detail or the ped- antry of quotation; written, above all, with that clearness, that ease, that unaf- fected purity of taste which belong to the French style of that best age, they present a contrast not only to the inferior writings on philosophical history with which our age abounds, but, in some respects, even to the best. It cannot be a crime that these dissertations contain a good deal which, after more than a century's labour in historical inquiry, has become more fa- miliar than it was. 9. The French Protestants, notwith- Protestant standing their disarmed condi- comroversy tion, were not, I apprehend, much in France, oppressed under Richelieu and Mazarin. But, soon afterward, an eager- xxii , 120. Biogr. Universelle. CEuvres de Bos- suet, vol. xxx. Dupin seems not to have held the superiority of hishops to priests juredivino, which nettles our man of Meaux. Ces grands critiques sont peu favorables aux superiority ecclesiastiques et n'aiment guere plus celles des eveques que celle du pape, p. 491. VOL. II. N N ness to accelerate what was taking place through natural causes, their return into ;he Church, brought on a series of harass- ng edicts, which ended in the revocation of that of Nantes. During this time they were assailed by less terrible weapons, yet such as required no ordinary strength ;o resist, the polemical writings of the hree greatest men in the Church of France, Nicole, Arnauld, and Bossuet. The two former were desirous to efface he reproaches of an approximation to Calvinism, and of a disobedience to the Catholic Church, under which their Jan- senist party was labouring. Nicole began with a small treatise, entitled La Perpe- uite de la Foi de 1'Englise Catholique, touchant 1'Eucharistie, in 1664. This aimed to prove that the tenet of tran- ubstantiation had been constant in the Church. Claude, the most able contrp- vertist among the French Protestants, re- ilied in the next year. This led to a nuch more considerable work by Nicole and Arnauld conjointly, with the same itle as the former ; nor was Claude slow in combating his double-headed adversary. Micole is said to have written the greater Dortion of this second treatise, though it ommonly bears the name of his more illustrious colleague.* 10. Both Arnauld and Nicole were clipsed by the most distinguish- Bossuet . s ex . d and successful advocate of position of the Catholic Church, Bossuet. l ( f th Catholic ' His Exposition de la Foi Catho- lique was written in 1668, for the use of two brothers of the Dangeau family ; but, having been communicated to Turenne, the most eminent Protestant that remain- ed in France, it contributed much to his conversion. It was published in 1671 ; and. though enlarged from the first sketch, does not exceed eighty pages in octavo. Nothing can be more precise, more clear, or more free from all circuity and detail than this little book ; everything is put in the most specious light ; the authority of the ancient Church, recognised by the ma- jority of Protestants, is alone kept in sight. Bossuet limits himself to doctrines estab- lished by the Council of Trent, leaving out of the discussion not only all questionable points, but, what is perhaps less fair, all rites and usages, however general or sanc- tioned by the regular discipline of the Church, except so far as formally appro- ved by that council. Hence he glides with a transient step over the invocation of saints and the worship of images, but presses with his usual dexterity on the * Biogr. Univ. 282 LITERATURE OF EUROPE inconsistencies and weak concessions of his antagonists. The Calvinists, or some of them, had employed a jargon of word about real presence, which he exposes with admirable brevity and vigour.* Nor does he gain less advantage in favour of tradition and church authority from the assumption of somewhat similar claims by the same party. It has often been al- leged that the Exposition of Bossuet was not well received by many on his own side. And for this there seems to be some foundation, though the Protestant controvertists have made too much of the facts. It was published at Rome in 1678, and approved in the most formal manner by Innocent XI. the next year. But it must have been, perceived to separate the faith of the Church, as it rested on dry propositions, from the same faith living and imbodied in the every-day worship of the people. f 11. Bossuet was now the acknowledged His confer- champion of the Roman Church ence with in France ; Claude was in equal ciaude. pre-eminence on the other side. These great adversaries had a regular conference in 1678. Mademoiselle de Duras, a Protestant lady, like most oth- ers of her rank at that time, was waver- ing about religion, and in her presence the dispute was carried on. It entirely turn- ed on Church authority. The arguments of Bossuet differ only from those which have often been adduced by the spirit and conciseness with which he presses them. We have his own account, which, of course, gives himself the victory. It was almost as much of course that the lady was con- verted ; for it is seldom that a woman can withstand the popular argument on that side, when she has once gone far enough to admit the possibility of its truth by giving it a hearing. Yet Bossuet deals in sophisms which, though always in the mouths of those who call themselves or- thodox, are contemptible to such as know facts as well as logic. " I urged," he says, " in a few words, what presumption * Bossuet observes that most other controversies are found to depend more on words than substance, and the difference becomes less the more they are examined ; but in that of the eucharist the contrary is the case, since the Calvinists endeavour to ac- commodate their phraseology to the Catholics, while essentially they differ. Vol. xviii., p. 135. t The writings of Bossuet against the Protest- ants occupy nine volumes, xviii.-xxvi., in the great edition of his works, Versailles, 1816. The Ex- position de la Foi is in the eighteenth. Bausset, in his life of Bossuet, appears to have refuted the ex- aggerations of many Protestants as to the ill recep- tion of this little book at Rome. Yet there was a certain foundation for it. See Bibliothtque Uiii- verselle, vol. xi., p. 455. it was to believe that we can better un- derstand the word of God than all the rest of the Church, and that nothing would thus prevent there being as many reli- gions as persons."* But there can be no presumption in supposing that we may understand anything better than one who has never examined it at all ; and if this rest of the Church, so magnificently brought forward, have commonly acted on Bossuet's principle, and thought it pre- sumptuous to judge for themselves ; if, out of many millions of persons, a few only have deliberately reasoned on reli- gion, and the rest have been, like true zeros, nothing in themselves, but much in sequence ; if, also, as is most frequently the case, this presuinptuousness is not the assertion of a paradox or novelty, but the preference of one denomination of Chris- tians, or of one tenet maintained by re- spectable authority to another, we can only scorn the emptiness, as well as re- sent the effrontery of this commonplace that rings so often in our ears. Certainly reason is so far from condemning a defer- ence to the judgment of the wise and good, that nothing is more irrational than to neglect it ; but when this is claimed for those whom we need not believe to have been wiser and better than ourselves, nay, sometimes whom, without vainglory, we may esteem less, and that so as to set aside the real authority of the most philo- sophical, unbiased, and judicious of man- kind, it is not pride or presumption, but a sober use of our faculties that rejects the jurisdiction. 12. Bossuet once more engaged in a similar discussion about 1691. Correspon( j. Among the German Lutherans ence with there seems to have been for a L^lu'z ^ long time a lurking notion that on some terms or other a reconciliation with the Church of Rome could be ef- fected ; and this was most countenanced in the dominions of Brunswick, and, above all, in the University of Helmstadt. Leib- nitz himself and Molanus, a Lutheran di- vine, were the negotiators on that side with Bossuet. Their treaty for such it was apparently understood to be Avas conducted by writing ; and when we read their papers on both sides, nothing is more remarkable than the tone of superiority which the Catholic plenipotentiary, if such he could be deemed without powers from any one but himself, has thought fit to assume. No concession is offered, no tenet explained away; -the sacramental up to the laity, and a permission to the * O3uvres de Bossuet, xxiii., 290. FROM 1650 TO 1700. Lutheran clergy already married to retain their wives after their reordination, is all that he holds forth ; and in this, doubtless, he could have had no authority from Rome. Bossuet could not veil his haughty coun- tenance ; and his language is that of as- perity and contemptuousness instead of moderation. He dictates terms of sur- render as to a besieged city when the breach is already practicable, and hardly deigns to show his clemency by granting the smallest favour to the garrison. It is curious to see the strained constructions, the artifices of silence, to which Molanus has recourse, in order to make out some pretence for his ignominious surrender. Leibnitz, with whom the correspondence broke off in 1693, and was renewed again in 1699, seems not quite so yielding as the other ; and the last biographer of Bossuet suspects that the German philosopher was insincere or tortuous in the negotiation. If this were so, he must have entered upon it less of his own accord than to satisfy the Princess Sophia, who, like many of her family, had been a little wavering, till our act of settlement became a true set- tlement to their faith. . This bias of the court of Hanover is intimated in several passages. The success of this treaty of union, or, rather, of subjection, was as little to be expected as it was desirable ; the old spirit of Lutheranism was much worn out, yet there must surely have been a determination to resist so unequal a compromise. Rome negotiated as a con- queror with these beaten Carthaginians ; yet no one had beaten them but them- selves.* 13. The warfare of the Roman Church on eitner in a se- tionsof ries of conflicts on the various Protestant doctrines wherein the reformers hes ' separated from her, or by one pitched battle on the main question of a conclusive authority somewhere in the Church. Bossuet's temper, as well as his inferiority in original learning, led him, in preference, to the latter scheme of theo- logical strategy. It was also manifestly that course of argument which was most likely to persuade the unlearned. He fol- lowed up the blow which he had already struck against Claude in his famous work on the Variations of Protestant Churches. Never did his genius find a subject more fit to display its characteristic impetuosi- ty, its arrogance, or its cutting and merci- less spirit of sarcasm. The weaknesses, the inconsistent evasions, the extrava- gances of Luther, Zuingle, Calvin, and * CEuvres de Bossuet, vols. xxv. and xxvL Beza pass, one after another, before us, till these great reformers seem, like vic- tim prisoners, to be hewn down by the indignant prophet. That Bossuet is can- did in statement, or even faithful in quo- tation, I should much doubt ; he gives the words of his adversaries in his own French, and the references are not made to any specified edition of their volumi- nous writings. The main point, as he contends it to be, that the Protestant churches (for he does not confine this to persons) fluctuated much in the sixteenth century, is sufficiently proved ; but it re- mained to show that this was a reproach. Those who have taken a different view from Bossuet may perhaps think that a little more of this censure would have been well incurred ; that they have va- ried too little rather than too much ; and that it is far more difficult, even in con- troversy with the Church of Rome, to withstand the inference which their long creeds and confessions, as well as the language too common with their theolo- gians, have furnished to her more ancient and catholic claim of infallibility, than to vindicate those successive variations which are analogous to the necessary course of human reason on all other subjects. The essential fallacy of Romanism, that truth must ever exist visibly on earth, is im- plied in the whole strain of Bossuet's at- tack on the variances of Protestantism : it is evident that variance of opinion proves error somewhere ; but, unless it can be shown that we have any certain method of excluding it, this should only lead us to be more indulgent towards the judgment of others, and less confident of our own. The notion of an intrinsic mor- al criminality in religious error is at the root of the whole argument ; and, till Protestants are well rid of this, there seems no secure mode of withstanding the effect which the vast weight of au- thority asserted by the Latin Church, even where it has not the aid of the Eastern, must produce on timid and scrupulous minds. 14. In no period has the Anglican Church stood up so powerfully in defence An ^ ican of the Protestant cause as in that wruingi before us. From the era of the 5s ;ii j ist restoration to the close of the cen- tury the war was unremitting and vigor- ous. And it is particularly to be remark- ed, that the principal champions of the Church of England threw off that ambigu- ous syncretism which had displayed itself under the first Stuarts, and, comparatively at least witli their immediate predeces- sors, avoided every admission which might 284 LITERATURE OF EUROPE facilitate a deceitful compromise. We can only mention a few of the writers who signalized themselves in this controversy. 15. Taylor's Dissuasive from Popery Taylor's was published in 1664 ; and in Dissuasive, this, his latest work, we find the same general strain of Protestant reason- ing, the same rejection of all but scriptu- ral authority, the same free exposure of the inconsistencies and fallacies of tradi- tion, the same tendency to excite a skep- tical feeling as to all except the primary doctrines of religion, which had charac- terized the Liberty of Prophesying. These are mixed, indeed, in Taylor's manner, with a few passages (they are, I think, but few), which, singly taken, might seem to breathe not quite this spirit ; but the tide flows for the most part the same way, and it is evident that his mind had undergone no change. The learning in all his wri- tings is profuse ; but Taylor never leaves me with the impression that he is exact and scrupulous in its application. In one part of this Dissuasive from Popery, hav- ing been reproached with some inconsist- ency, he has no scruple to avow that, in a former work, he had employed weak ar- guments for a laudable purpose.* 16. Barrow, not so extensively learned Barrow. as Taylor, who had read rather too Stilling- much, but inferior, perhaps, even in fleet - that respect to hardly any one else, and above him in closeness and strength of reasoning, combated against Rome in many of his sermons, and especially in a long treatise on papal supremacy. Stil- lingfleet followed, a man deeply versed in ecclesiastical antiquity, of an argumenta- tive mind, excellently fitted for polemical dispute, but perhaps, by those habits of his life, rendered too much of an advocate to satisfy an impartial reader. In the criti- cal reign of James II. he may be consid- ered as the leader on the Protestant side ; but Wake, Tillotson, and several more would deserve mention in a fuller history of ecclesiastical literature. 17. The controversies always smoulder- ing in the Church of Rome, and s ' sometimes breaking into flame, to which the Anti-Pelagian writings of Au- gustin had originally given birth, have been slightly touched in our former vol- ume. It has been seen that the rigidly predestinarian theories had been con- demned by the court of Rome in Baius ; that the opposite doctrine of Molina had narrowly escaped censure ; that it was * Taylor's Works, x., 304. This is not surpri- sing, as in his Ductor Dubitantium, xi., 484, he main- tains the right of using arguments and authorities in controversy, which we do not believe to be valid. safest to abstain from any language not verbally that of the Church, or of Augus- tin, whom the Church held incontroverti- ble. But now a more serious and cele- brated controversy, that of the Jansenists, pierced, as it were, to the heart of the Church. It arose before the middle of the century. Jansenius, bishop of Ypres, in his Augustinus, published, after his death, in 1640, gave, as he professed, a faithful statement of the tenets of that father. " We do not inquire," he says, " what men ought to believe on the powers of human nature, or on the grace and predestination of God, but what Augustin once preached with the approbation of the Church, and has consigned to writing in many of his works." This book is in three parts ; the first containing a history of the Pelagian controversy, the second and third an ex- position of the tenets of Augustin. Jan- senius does not, however, confine himself so much to mere analysis, but that he at- tacks the Jesuits Lessius and Molina, and even reflects on the bull of Pius V. con- demning Baius, which he cannot wholly approve.* 18. Richelieu, who is said to have re- tained some animosity against , -r , - f , , Condemna- Jansemus on account of a book tionofhis called Mars Gallicus, which he Augustinua had written on the side of his in France ' sovereign, the King of Spain, designed to obtain the condemnation of the Augustinus by the French clergy. The Jesuits, there- fore, had gained ground so far that the doctrines of Augustin were out of fash- ion, though few besides themselves ven- tured to reject his nominal authority. It is certainly clear that Jansenius offended the greater part of the Church. But he had some powerful advocates, and espe- cially Antony Arnauld, the most renown- ed of a family long conspicuous for elo- quence, for piety, and for opposition to the Jesuits. In 1649, after several years of obscure dispute, Cornet, syndic of the * A very copious history of Jansenism, taking it up from the Council of Trent, will he found in the fourteenth volume of the Bibliotheque Universelle, p. 139-398 ; from which Mosheim has derived most of what we read in his Ecclesiastical History. And the History of Port-Royal was written by Racine in so perspicuous and neat a style, that, though we may hardly think with Olivet that it places him as high in prose-writing as his tragedies do in verse, it entitles him to rank in the list, not a very long one, of those who have succeeded in both. Is it not probable that in some scenes of Athalie he had Port Royal before his eyes? The history and the tragedy were written about the same time. Racine, it is rather remarkable, had entered the field against Nicole in 1666, chiefly, indeed, to de- fend theatrical representations, but not without many sarcasms against Jansenism. FROM 1050 TO 1700. 285 faculty of Theology in the University of Paris, brought forward for censure seven propositions, five of which became after- ward so famous, without saying that they were found in the work of Jansenius. The faculty condemned them, though it had never been reckoned favourable to the Jesuits ; a presumption that they were, at least, expressed in a manner repugnant to the prevalent doctrine. Yet Le Clerc, to whose excellent account of this contro- versy in the fourteenth volume of the Bib- liotheque Universelle we are chiefly in- debted, declares his own opinion that there may be some ambiguity in the style of the first, but that the other four arc decidedly conformable to the theology of Augustin. 19. The Jesuits now took the course and at of calling in the authority of Rome. Home. They pressed Innocent X. to con- demn the five propositions which were maintained by some doctors in France. It is not the policy of that court to com- promise so delicate a possession as infalli- bility by bringing it to the test of that per- sonal judgment which is, of necessity, the arbiter of each man's own obedience. The popes have, in fact, rarely taken a part, independently of councils, in these school debates. The bull of Pius V., a man too zealous by character to regard prudence, in which he condemned many tenets of Baius, had not, nor could it give satisfac- tion to those who saw with their own eyes that it swerved from the Augustinian the- ory. Innocent was, at first, unwilling to meddle with a subject which, as he owned to a friend, he did not understand. But, after hearing some discussions, he grew more confident of his knowledge, which he ascribed, as in duty bound, to the in- spiration of the Holy Ghost, and went so heartily along with the Anti-Jansenists, that he refused to hear the deputies of the other party. On the 31st of May, 1653, he condemned the five propositions, four as erroneous, and the fifth in stronger lan- guage ; declaring, however, not in the bull, but orally, that he did not condemn the tenet of efficacious grace (which all the Dominicans held), nor the doctrine of Saint Augustin, which was, and ever would be, that of the Church. 20. The Jansenists were not bold enough The Janse- to llint that the 7 did llot acknowl - nists take a edge the infallibility of the pope distinction; j n an express and positive dec- laration. Even if they had done so, they had an evident recognition of this censure of the five propositions by their own Church, and might dread its being so gen- erally received as to give the sanction which no Catholic can withstand. They had recourse, unfortunately, to a subter- fuge which put them in the wrong. They admitted that the propositions were false, but denied that they could be found in the book of Jansenius. Thus each party was at issue on a matter of fact, and each er- roneously, according, at least, to the judg- ment of the most learned and impartial Protestants. The five propositions ex- press the doctrine of Augustin himself; and, if they do this, we can hardly doubt that they express that of Jansenius. In a short time this ground of evasion was taken from their party. An assembly of French prelates in the first place, and af- terward Alexander VII., successor of In- nocent X., condemned the propositions as in Jansenius, and in the sense intended by Jansenius. 21. The Jansenists were now driven to the wall: the Sorbonne, in 1G55, and are per in consequence of some propo- seemed sitions of Arnauld, expelled him from the theological faculty ; a formulary was drawn up to be signed by the clergy, con- demning the propositions of Jansenius, which was finally established in 1601 ; and those who refused, even nuns, under- went a harassing persecution. The most striking instance of this, which still retains an historical character, was the dissolution of the famous convent of Port-Royal, over which Angelica Arnauld, sister of the great advocate of Jansenism, had long presided with signal reputation. This nunnery was at Paris, having been removed in 1644 from an ancient Cistertian convent of the same name, about six leagues distant, and called, for distinction, Port-Royal des Champs. To this now unfrequented building some of the most eminent men, repaired for study, whose writings, being anonymously published, have been usual- ly known by the name of their residence. Arnauld, Pascal, Nicole, 'Lancelot, De Sacy, are among the Messieurs de Port- Royal, an appellation so glorious in the seventeenth century. The Jansenists now took a distinction, very reasonable, as it seems, in its nature, between the au- thority which asserts or denies a proposi- tion, and that which does the like as to a fact. They refused to the pope, that is, in this instance, to the Church, the latter infallibility. We cannot prosecute this part of ecclesiastical history farther; if writings of any literary importance had been produced by the controversy; they would demand our attention ; but this does not appear to have been the case. The controversy between Arnauld and Male- branche may perhaps be an exception. The latter, carried forward by his original 286 LITERATURE OF EUROPE genius, attempted to deal with the doc- trines of theology as with metaphysical problems, in his Traite de la Nature et de la Grace. Arnauld animadverted on this in his Reflexions Philosophiques et Theo- logiques. Malebranche replied in Lettres du Pere Malebranche a un de ses Amis. This was published in 1686, and the con- troversy between such eminent masters of abstruse reasoning began to excite at- tention. Malebranche seems to have re- tired first from the field. His antagonist had great advantages in the dispute, ac- cording to received systems of theology, with which he was much more conver- sant, and perhaps, on the whole, in the philosophical part of the question. This, however, cannot be reckoned entirely a Jansenistic controversy, though it involv- ed those perilous difficulties which had raised that flame.* 22. The credit of Augustin was now as Progress of much shaken in -the Protestant Arminian- as in the Catholic regions of ls 'o. Europe. Episcopius had given to the Remonstrant party a reputation which no sect so inconsiderable in its sep- arate character has ever possessed. The Dutch Arminians were at no time numer- ous ; they tof>k no hold of the people ; they had few churches, and, though not persecuted by the lenient policy of Hol- land, were still under the ban of an ortho- dox clergy, as exclusive and bigoted as before. But their writings circulated over Europe, and made a silent impression on the adverse party. It became less usual to bring forward the Augustinian hypothe- sis in prominent or unequivocal language. Courcelles, born at Geneva, and Ics * the successor of Episcopius in the Remonstrant congregation at Amster- dam, with less genius than his predeces- sor, had perhaps a more extensive knowl- edge of ecclesiastical antiquity. His works were much in esteem with the theologians of that way of thinking ; but they have not fallen in my way. 23. Limborch, great-nephew of Episco- pius, seems more than any other '' Arminian divine to have inherited his mantle. His most important work is the Theologia Christiana, containing a system of divinity and morals, in seven books and more than nine hundred pages, published in 1686. It is the fullest de- lineation of the Arminian scheme ; but as the Arminians were by their principle free inquirers, and not, like other churches, * An account of this controversy will be found at length in the second volume of the Bibliotheque Universelle. bondsmen of symbolical formularies, no one book can strictly be taken as their representative. The tenets of Limborch are, in the majority of disputable points, such as impartial men have generally found in the primitive or Ante-Nicene fa- thers ; but in some he probably deviates from them, steering far away from all that the Protestants of the Swiss reform had abandoned as superstitious or unintelligi- ble. 24. John Le Clerc, in the same relation- ship to Courcelles that Limborch Le Clerc was to Episcopius, and, like him, transplanted from Geneva to the more lib- eral air, at that time, of the United Prov- inces, claims a high place among the Dutch Arminians; for, though he did not main- tain their cause either in systematic or po- lemical writings, his commentary on the Old Testament, and, still more, his excel- lent and celebrated reviews, the Biblio- theques Universelle, Choisie, and An- cienne et Modeme, must be reckoned a perpetual combat on that side. These journals enjoyed an extraordinary influ- ence over Europe, and deserved to enjoy it. Le Clerc is generally temperate, judi- cious, appeals to no passion, displays a very extensive, though not, perhaps, a very deep erudition, lies in wait for the weakness and temerity of those he re- views, thus sometimes gaining the advan- tage over more learned men than himself. He would have been a perfect master of that sort of criticism, then newly current in literature, if he could have repressed an irritability in matters personal to himself, and a degree of prejudice against the Ro- mish writers, or perhaps those styled or- thodox in general, which sometimes dis- turbs the phlegmatic steadiness with which a good reviewer, like a practised sports- man, brings down his game.* 25. The most remarkable progress made * Bishop Monk observes, that Le Clerc " seems to have been the first person who understood the power which may be exercised over literature by a reviewer." Life of Bentley, p. 209. This may be true, especially as he was nearly the first reviewer, and certainly better than his predecessors. But this remark is followed by a sarcastic animadver- sion upon Le Clerc's ignorance of Greek metres, and by the severe assertion that, " by an absolute system of terror, he made himself a despot in the republic of letters." The former is so far true, that he neither understood the Greek metres as well as Bentley and Porson, or those who have trod in their steps, nor supposed that all learning was concen- trated in that knowledge, as we seemed in danger of supposing within my memory The latter is not warranted by the general character of Le Clerc's criticisms, which, where he has no personal quar- rel, is temperate and moderate, neither traducing men nor imputing motives ; and, consequently, un- like certain periodical criticism of a later date. FROM 1050 TO 1700. 287 san;ro(Vs by the Arminian theology was in Fur Prae- England. This had begun under destinatus. . but j t was then taken up in conjunction with that pa- tristic learning, which adopted the fourth and fifth centuries as the standard of or- thodox faith. Perhaps the first very bold and unambiguous attack on the Calvinis- tic system which we shall mention from this quarter. This was an anony- mous Latin pamphlet, entitled Fur Proe- destinatus, published in 1651, and gener- ally ascribed to Bancroft, at that time a young man. It is a dialogue between a thief under sentence of death and his at- tendant minister, wherein the former in- sists upon his assurance of being predes- tinated to salvation. In this idea there is nothing but what is sufficiently obvious ; but the dialogue is conducted with some spirit and vivacity. Every position in the thief's mouth is taken from eminent Cal- vinistic writers ; and what is chiefly worth notice is, that Sancroft. for the first time, has ventured to arraign the greatest heroes of the Reformation ; not only Calvin, Beza, and Zanchius, but, who had been hitherto spared, Luther and Zuingle. It was in the nature of a manifesto from the Armin- ian party, that they would not defer in fu- ture to any modern authority.* 26. The loyal Anglican clergy, suffer- Arminianism ing persecution at the hands of in England. Calvinistic sectaries, might be naturally expected to cherish the opposite principles. These are manifest in the sermons of Barrow, rather, perhaps, by his silence than his tone, and more ex- plicitly in those of South. But many ex- ceptions might be found among leading men, such as Sanderson ; while in au op- posite quarter, among the younger gener- ation who had conformed to the times. arose a more formidable spirit of Armin- ianism, which changed the face of the English Church. This was displayed among those who, just about the epoch of the Restoration, were denominated Latitude-men, or, more commonly, Lati- tudinarians, trained in the principles of Episcopius and Chillingworth, strongly averse to every compromise with popery, and thus distinguished from the High Church party, learned rather in profane philosophy than in the fathers, more full of Plato and Plotinus than Jerome or Chrysostom, great maintainers of natural religion and of the eternal laws of mo- rality, not very solicitous about systems came^fleet * The Fur Praedestinatus is reprinted in D'Oy- ly's Life of Sancroft. It is much the best proof of ability that the worthy archbishop ever gave. of orthodoxy, and limiting, very consider- ably beyond the notions of former ages, the fundamental tenets of Christianity. This is given as a general character, bin varying in the degree of its application to particular persons. Burnet enumerates as the chief of this body of men, More, Cudworth, Whichcot, Tillotson, Stilling- fleet ; some, especially the last, more te- nacious of the authority of the fathers and of the Church than others, but all concurring in the adoption of an Arminian theology.* This became so predominant before the revolution, that few English di- vines of eminence remained, who so much as endeavoured to steer a middle course, or to dissemble their renunciation of the doctrines which had been sanctioned at the Synod of Dort by the delegates of their church. " The Theological Institu- tions of Episcopius," says a contemporary writer, "were at that time (1685) gener- ally in the hands of our students of divin- ity in both universities, as the best system of divinity. that had appeared."! And he proceeds afterward : ' The Remonstrant writers, among whom there were men of excellent learning and parts, had now ac- quired a considerable reputation in our universities by the means of some great men among us." This testimony seems irresistible ; and as, one hundred years before, the Institutes of Calvin were read in the same academical studies, we must own, unless Calvin and Episcopius shall be maintained to have held the same ten- ets, that Bossuet might have added a chapter to the Variations of Protestant Churches. 27. The methods adopted in order to subvert the Augustinian theology Bull's Bar- were sometimes direct, by expli- mania cit controversy, or by an oppo- A P stolica - site train of scriptural interpretation in regular commentaries ; more frequently, perhaps, indirect, by inculcating moral du- ties, and especially by magnifying the law of nature. Among the first class, the Harmonia Apostolica of Bull seems to be reckoned the principal work of this period. It was published in 1669, and was fiercely encountered at first, not merely by the Presbyterian party, but by many of the Church, the Lutheran tenets as to justifi- cation by faith being still deemed ortho- dox. Bull establishes as the groundwork of his harmony between the apostles Paul * Biimet's History of His Own Times, i.. 187. Account of the new sect called Latiludinarians, in the collection of tracts entitled Phoenix, vol. ii., p. 499. t Nelson's Life of Bull, in Bull's Works, vol. viii., p. 257. 288 LITERATURE OF EUROPE and James on a subject where their lan- guage apparently clashes in terms, that we are to interpret St. Paul by St. James, and not St. James by St. Paul, because the latest authority, and that which may be presumed to have explained what was obscure in the former, ought to prevail ;* a rule doubtless applicable in many cases, whatever it may be in this. It is at turned to his advantage ; but it was not so easy for him to reconcile his opinions with those of the reformers, or with the Anglican articles. 28. The Paraphrase and Annotations of Hammond. Hammond on the New Testa- Locke, ment gave a different colour to wukins. the Epistles O f St Paul from that which they display in the hands of Beza and the other theologians of the six- teenth century. And the name of Ham- mond stood so high with the Anglican clergy, that he naturally turned the tide of interpretation his own way. The wri- tings of Fowler, Wilkins, and Whichcot are chiefly intended to exhibit- the moral lustre of Christianity, and to magnify the importance of virtuous life; The first of these ventured on an express defence of Latitudinarianism ; but, in general, those to whom their adversaries gave that name declined the invidious prejudices which they knew to be associated with it. Wil- kins left an unfinished work on tlie Prin- ciples and Duties of Natural Religion. Twelve chapters only, about half the vol- ume, were ready for the press at his death ; the rest was compiled by Tillot- son as well as the materials left by the author would allow ; and the expressions employed lead us to believe that much was due to the editor. The latter's pref- ace strongly presses the separate obliga- tion of natural religion, upon which both the disciples of Hobbes, and many of the less learned sectaries, were at issue with him. 29. We do not find much of importance Socinians in written on the Trinitarian con- Engiand. troversy before the middle of the seventeenth century, except by the Socinians themselves. But the case was now very different. Though the Polish, or, rather, German Unitarians did not pro- duce more distinguished men than before, they came more forward in the field of dispute. Finally expelled from Poland in 1660, they sought refuge in more learn- ed as well as more tolerant regions, and especially in the genial soil of religious liberty, the United Provinces. Even here they enjoyed no avowed toleration ; but least Author * Nelson's Life of Bull. the press, with a very slight concealment of place, under the attractive words Eleu- theropolis, Irenopolis, or Freystadt, was ready to serve them with its natural im- partiality. They began to make a slight progress in England ; the writings of Bid- die were such as even Cromwell, though habitually tolerant, did not overlook ; the underwent an imprisonment both at that time and after the Restoration. In general, the Unitarian writers pre- served a disguise. Milton's treatise, not long since brought to light, goes on the Arian hypothesis, which had probably been countenanced by some others. It became common, in the reign of Charles II., for the P^nglish divines to attack the anti-Trinitarians of each denomination. 30. An epoch is supposed to have been made in this controversy by the Bull's Defen- famous work of Bull, Defensio '<> Fidei NI- Fidei Nicenae. This was not cense ' primarily directed against the heterodox party. In the Dogmata Theologica of Petavius, published in 1644, that learned Jesuit, laboriously compiling passages from the fathers, had come to the conclu- sion that most of those before the Nicene council had seemed, by their language, to run into nearly the same heresy as that which the council had condemned; and this inference appeared to rest on a long series of quotations. The Arminian Cour- celles, and even the English philosopher Cudworth, the latter of whom was as lit tie suspected of an heterodox leaning as Petavius himself, had come to the same result ; so that a considerable triumph was given to the Arians, in which the Socinians, perhaps at that time more nu- merous, seem to have thought themselves entitled to partake. Bull had therefore to contend with authorities not to be de- spised by the learned. 31. The Defensio Fidei Nicense was published in 1685. It did not want an- swerers in England ; but it obtained a great reputation, and an assembly of the French clergy, through the influence of Bossuet, returned thanks to the author. It was indeed evident that Petavius, though he had certainly formed his opin- ion with perfect honesty, was preparing the way for an inference, that if the prim- itive fathers could be heterodox on a point of so great magnitude, we must look for infallibility, not in them nor in the diffu- sive Church, but in general councils pre- sided over by the pope, or ultimately in the pope himself. This, though not un- suitable to the notions of some Jesuits, was diametrically opposed to the princi- ples of the Gallican Church, which pro- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 289 (essed to repose on a perpetual and cath- olic tradition. 32. Notwithstanding the popularity of Not saiisfac- this defence of the Nicene faith, jory to ail. au( i tj ie learning it displays, the author was far from ending the contro- versy, or from satisfying all his readers. It was alleged that he does not meet the question with which he deals ; that the word 6fj.oovair>e, being almost new at the time of the council, and being obscure and metaphysical in itself, required a pre- cise definition to make the reader see his way before him, or, at least, one better than Bull lias given, which the adversary might probably adopt without much scru- ple ; that tlie passages adduced from the fathers are often insufficient for his pur- pose ; that he confounds the eternal es- sence with the eternal personality or dis- tinctness of the Logos, though well aware, of course, that many of the early writers employed different names (erdtaOeTOf and npo(j>opiKo<;) for these ; and that he does not repel some of the passages which can hardly bear an orthodox interpretation. It was urged, moreover, that his own hy- pothesis, taken altogether, is but a pallia- ted Arianism ; that by insisting, for more than one hundred pages, on the subordi- nation of the Son to the Father, he came close to what since has borne that name, though it might not be precisely what had been condemned at Nice, and could not be reconciled with the Athanasian creed, except by such an interpretation of the latter as is neither probable, nor has been reputed orthodox. 33. Among the theological writers of the . Roman Church, and in a less degree UC8 ' among Protestants, there has al- ways been a class not inconsiderable for numbers or for influence, generally denom- inated mystics, or, when their language has been more unmeasured, enthusiasts and fanatics. These may be distinguished into two kinds, though it must readily be understood that they may often run much into one another ; the first believing that the soul, by immediate communion with the Deity, receives a peculiar illumination and knowledge of truths, not cognisable by the understanding ; the second less so- licitous about intellectual than moral light, and aiming at such pure contemplation of the attributes of God, and such an intimate perception of spiritual life as may end in a sort of absorption into the divine essence. But I should not probably have alluded to any writings of this description, if the two most conspicuous luminaries of the French Church, Bossuet and Fenelon, had lon ' not clashed with each other in that VOL. II. O o famous controversy of Quietism, to which the enthusiastic writings of Madame Guy- on gave birth. The " Maximes des Saints" of Fenelon I have never seen ; the editions of his entire works, as they affect to be, do not include what the Church has con- demned ; and the original book has prob- ably become scarce. Fenelon appears to have been treated by his friend, shall we call him 1 or rival, with remarkable harsh- ness. Bossuet might have felt some jeal- ousy at the rapid elevation of the Arch- bishop of Cambray : but we need not have recourse to this ; the rigour of orthodoxy in a temper like his will account for all. There could be little doubt but that many saints honoured by the Church had utter- ed things quite as strong as any that Fen- elon's work contained. Bossuet, howev- er, succeeded in obtaining its condemna- tion at Rome. Fenelon was of the second class above mentioned among the mystics, and seems to have been absolutely free from such pretences to illumination as we find in Behmen or Barclay. The pure dis- interested love of God was the mainspring of his religious theory. The Divine (Econ- omy of Poiret, 1686, and the writings of a German Quietist, Spcner, do not require any particular mention.* * 34. This later period of the seventeenth century was marked by an in- cinmge in creasing boldness in religious in- " le c ''arac r. i ,. , . tcr of iheo- quiry ; we find more disregard of logical m authority, more disposition to eraiure. question received tenets, a more suspi- cious criticism, both as to the genuineness and the credibility of ancient writings, a more ardent love of truth, that is, of per- ceiving and understanding what is true in- stead of presuming that we possess it without any understanding at all. Much of this was associated, no doubt, with the other revolutions in literary opinion ; with the philosophy of Bacon, Descartes, Gas- sendi, Hobbes, Baylc, and Locke ; with the spirit which a slightly learned, yet acute generation of men, rather conversant with the world than with libraries, to whom the appeal in modern languages must be made, was sure to breathe ; with that incessant reference to proof which the physical sci- ences taught mankind to demand. Hence quotations are comparatively rare in the theological writings of this age ; they are better reduced to their due office of testi- mony as to fact, sometimes of illustration or better statement of an argument, but not so much alleged as argument or au- thority in themselves. Even those who combated on the side of established doc- * Bibl. Universelle,v,412; xvi., 224. 290 LITERATURE OF EUROPE trines were compelled to argue more from themselves, lest the public, their umpire, should reject, with an opposite prejudice, what had enslaved the prejudices of their fathers. 35. It is well known that a disbelief in Freedom Christianity became very frequent of many about this time. Several books writings. more O r less appear to indicate this spirit, but the charge has often been made with no sufficient reason. Of Hobbes enough has been already said ; and Spinosa's place, as a metaphysician, will be in the next chapter. His Tractatus Theologico - Politicus, published anony- mously at Amsterdam, with the false date of Hamburg, in 1670, contains many ob- servations on the Old Testament, which, though they do not really affect its general authenticity and truth, clashed with the commonly-received opinion of its absolute inspiration. Some of these remarks were, if not borrowed, at least repeated in a book of more celebrity, Sentimens de quelques Theologiens d'Hollande sur FHistoire Cri- tique du Pere Simon. This work is writ- ten by Le Clerc, but it has been doubted whether he is the author of some acute, but hardy remarks on the inspiration of Scripture whieh it contains. These, how- ever, must be presumed to coincide, for the most part, with his own opinion ; but he has afterward declared his dissent from the hypothesis contained in these volumes, that Moses was not the author of the Pen- tateuch. The Archaeologia Philosophica of Thomas Burnet is intended to question the literal history of the creation and fall. But few will pretend that either Le Clerc or Burnet were disbelievers in revelation. 36. Among those who sustained the truth Thoughts of Christianity by argument rath- of Pascal, er than authority, the first place, both in order of time and of excellence, is due to Pascal, though his Thoughts were not published till 1670, some years after his death, and, in the first edition,, not with- out suppressions. They have been sup- posed to be fragments of a more systemat- ic work that he had planned, or, perhaps, only reflections committed to paper, with no design of publication in their actual form. But, as is generally the case with works of genius, we do not easily persuade ourselves that they could have been im- proved by any such alteration as would have destroyed their type. They are at present bound together by a real cohe- rence through the predominant character of the reasonings and sentiments, and give us everything that we could desire in a more regular treatise, without the tedious verbosity which regularity is apt to pro- duce. The style is not so polished as in the Provincial Letters, and the sentences are sometimes ill constructed and ellipti- cal. Passages almost transcribed from Montaigne have been published by care- less editors as Pascal's. 37. But the Thoughts of Pascal are to be ranked, as a monument of his genius, above the Provincial Letters, though some have asserted the contrary. . They bum with an intense light ; condensed in ex- pression, sublime, energetic, rapid, they hurry away the reader till he is scarcely able or willing to distinguish the sophisms from the truth they contain. For that many of them are incapable of bearing a calm scrutiny is very manifest to those who apply such a test. The notes of Vol- taire, though always intended to detract, are sometimes unanswerable ; but the splendour of Pascal's eloquence absolute- ly annihilates, in effect on the general reader, even this antagonist. 38. Pascal had probably not read very largely, which has given an ampler sweep to his genius. Except the Bible and the writings of Augustin, the book that seems most to have attracted him was the Essays of Montaigne. Yet no men could be more unlike in personal dispositions and in the cast of their intellect. But Pascal, though abhorring the religious and moral care- lessness of Montaigne, found much that fell in with his own reflections in the con- tempt of human opinions, the perpetual humbling of human reason, which runs through the bold and original work of his predecessor. He quotes no book so fre- quently ; and, indeed, except Epictetus, and once or twice Descartes, he hardly quotes any other at all. Pascal was too acute a geometer, and too sincere a lover of truth to countenance the sophisms of mere Pyrrhonism ; but, like many theo- logical writers, in exalting faith he does not always give reason her value, and fur- nishes weapons which the skeptic might employ against himself. It has been said that he denies the validity of the proofs of natural religion. This seems to be in some measure an error, founded on mis- taking the objections he puts in the mouths of unbelievers for his own. But it must, I think, be admitted that his arguments for the being of a God are too often d tutiori, that it is the safer side to take. 39. The Thoughts of Pascal on mira- cles abound in proofs of his acuteness and originality ; an originality much more striking when we recollect that the subject had not been discussed as it has since, but with an intermixture of some sophistical and questionable positions. Several of FROM 1650 TO 1700. 291 them have a secret reference to the fa- mous cure of his niece, Mademoiselle Pe- rier, by the holy thorn. But he is embar- rassed with the difficult question whether miraculous events are sure tests of the doctrine they support, and is not wholly consistent in his reasoning or satisfactory in his distinctions. I am unable to pro- nounce whether Pascal's other observa- tions on the rational proofs of Christianity are as original as they are frequently in- genious and powerful. 40. But the leading principle of Pascal's theology, that from which he deduces the necessary truth of revelation, is the fallen nature of mankind ; dwelling less upon scriptural proofs, which he takes for grant- ed, than on the evidence which he sup- poses man himself to supply. Nothing, however, can be more dissimilar than his beautiful visions to the vulgar Calvinism of the pulpit. It is not the sordid, grov- elling, degraded Caliban of that school, but the ruined archangel that he delights to paint. Man is so great, that his greatness is manifest, even in his knowledge of his own misery. A tree does not know itself to be miserable. It is true that to know we are miserable is misery ; but still it is greatness to know it. All his misery proves his greatness ; it is the misery of a great lord, of a king, dispossessed of their own. Man is the feeblest branch of nature, but it is a branch that thinks. He requires not the universe to crush him. He may be killed by a vapour, by a drop of water. But if the whole universe should crush him, he would be nobler than that which caused his death, because he knows that he is dying, and the universe would not know its'power over him. This is very evidently sophistical and declama- tory, but it is the sophistry of a fine im- agination. It would be easy, however, to find better passages. The dominant idea recurs in almost every page of Pascal. His melancholy genius plays in wild and rapid flashes, like lightning round the scathed oak, about the fallen greatness of man. He perceives every characteristic quality of his nature under these condi- tions. They are the solution of every problem, the clearing up of every incon- sistency that perplexes us. " Man," he says very finely, " has a secret instinct that leads him to seek diversion and em- ployment from without ; which springs from the sense of his continual misery. And he has another secret instinct, re- maining from the greatness of his original nature, which teaches him that happines can only exist in repose. And from these two contrary instincts there arises in him an obscure propensity, concealed in his soul, which prompts him to seek repose through agitation, and even to fancy that he contentment he does not enjoy will )e found, if by struggling yet a little longer he can open a door to rest."* 41. It can hardly be conceived that any one would think the worse of human na- ure or of himself by reading these mag- lificent lamentations of Pascal. He adorns and ennobles the degeneracy he exagger- ates. The ruined aqueduct, the broken ;olumn, the desolated city, suggest no deas but of dignity and reverence. No one is ashamed of a misery which bears witness to his grandeur. If we should persuade a labourer that the blood of irinces flows in his veins, we might spoil lis contentment with the only lot he has drawn, but scarcely kill in him the seeds of pride. 42. Pascal, like many others who have dwelt on this alleged degeneracy of man- kind, seems never to have disentangled lis mind from the notion, that what we call human nature has not merely an ar- bitrary and grammatical, but an intrinsic objective reality. The common and con- venient forms of language, the analogies of sensible things, which the imagination readily supplies, conspire to delude us into this fallacy. Each man is born with cer- tain powers and dispositions which con- stitute his own nature ; and the resem- blance of these in all his fellows produces a general idea, or a collective appellation, whichever we may prefer to say, called the nature of man ; but few would in this age contend for the existence of this as a substance capable of qualities, and those qualities variable, or subject to mutation. The corruption of human nature is there- fore a phrase which may convey an intel- ligible meaning, if it is acknowledged to be merely analogical and inexact, but will mislead those who do not keep this in mind. Man's nature, as it now is, that which each man and all men possess, is the immediate workmanship of God, as much as at his creation ; nor is any other hypothesis consistent with theism. 43. This notion of a real universal in human nature presents to us, in an exag- gerated light, those anomalies from which writers of Pascal's school are apt to infer some vast change in our original constitu- tion. Exaggerated, I say, for it cannot be denied that we frequently perceive a sort of incoherence, as it appears at least to our defective vision, in the same individ- ual ; and, like threads of various hues shot *CEuvres de Pascal, vol. i., p. 121. 292 LITERATURE OF EUROPE through one web, the love of vice and of virtue, the strength and weakness of the heart, are wonderfully blended in self-con- tradictory and self-destroying conjunction. But, even if we should fail altogether in solving the very first steps of this prob- lem, there is no course for a reasonable being except to acknowledge the limita- tions of his own faculties ; and it seems rather unwarrantable, on the credit of this humble confession, that we do not com- prehend the depths of what has been with- held from us, to substitute something far more incomprehensible and revolting to our moral and rational capacities in its place. " What," says Pascal, " can be more contrary to the rules of our wretched justice, than to damn eternally an infant incapable of volition for an offence where- in he seems to have had no share, and which was committed six thousand years before he was born '\ Certainly nothing shocks us more rudely than this doctrine ; and yet, without this mystery, the most incomprehensible of all, we are incompre- hensible to ourselves. Man is more in- conceivable without this mystery, than the mystery is inconceivable to man." 44. It might be wandering from the proper subject of these volumes if we were to pause, even shortly, to inquire whether, while the creation of a world so full of evil must ever remain the most in- scrutable of mysteries, we might not be led some way in tracing the connexion of moral and physical evil in mankind with his place in that creation ; and especially whether the law of continuity, which it has not pleased his Maker to break with respect to his bodily structure, and which binds that, in the unity of one great type, to the lower forms of animal life by the common conditions of nourishment, re- production, and self-defence, has not ren- dered necessary both the physical appe- tites and the propensities which terminate in self: whether, again, the superior en- dowments of his intellectual nature, his susceptibility of moral emotion, and of those disinterested affections which, if not exclusively, he far more intensely pos- sesses than any inferior being; above all, the gift of conscience, and a capacity to know God, might not be expected, even beforehand, by their conflict with the ani- mal passions, to produce some partial in- consistencies, some anomalies, at least, which he could not himself explain, in so compound a being. Every link in the long chain of creation does not pass by easy transition into the next. There are neces- sary chasms, and, as it were, leaps, from one creature to another, which, though not exceptions to the law of continuity, are accommodations of it to a new series of being. If man was made in the image of God, he was also made in the image of an ape. The framework of the body of him who has weighed the stars, and made the lightning his slave, approaches to that of a speechless brute, who wanders in the forests of Sumatra. Thus standing on the frontier land between animal and angelic natures, what wonder that he should par- take of both ! But these are things which it is difficult to touch ; nor would they have been here introduced but in order to weaken the force of positions so confi- dently asserted by many, and so eloquent- ly by Pascal. 45. Among the works immediately de- signed to confirm the truth of vindications Christianity, a certain reputa- ofcimstian- tion was acquired, through the lty - know/n erudition of its author, by the De- monstratio Evangelica of Huet, bishop of Avranches. This is paraded with defini- tions, axioms, and propositions, in order to challenge the name it assumes. But the axioms, upon which so much is to rest, are often questionable or equivocal ; as, for instance : Omnis prophetia est verax, quac praedixit res eventu deinde completas ; equivocal in the word verax. Huet also confirms his axioms by argument, which shows that they are not truly such. The whole book is full of learning ; but ha frequently loses sight of the points he would prove, and his quotations fall beside the mark. Yet he has furnished much to others, and possibly no earlier work on the same subject is so elaborate and com- prehensive. The next place, if not a higher one, might be given to the treatise of Ab- badie, a French refugee, published in 1684. His countr3 r men bestow on it the highest eulogies ; but it was never so well known in England, and is now almost forgotten. The oral conferences of Limborch with Orobio, a Jew of considerable learning and ability, on the prophecies relating to the Messiah, were reduced into writing and published ; they are still in some request. No book of this period, among many that were written, reached so high a reputation in England as Leslie's Short Method with the Deists, published in 1694 ; in which he has started an argument, pursued with more critical analysis by others, on the peculiarly distinctive marks of credibility that pertain to the scriptural miracles. The authenticity of this little treatise has been idly questioned on the Continent, for no better reason than that a translation of it has been published in a posthumous edition (1732) of the works of Saint Real, FROM 1650 TO 1700. 293 who died in 1692. But posthumous edi- tions are never deemed of sufficient au- thority to establish a literary title against possession ; and Prosper Marchand in- forms us that several other tracts in this edition of Saint Real are erroneously as- cribed to him. The internal evidence that the Short Method was written by a Prot- estant should be conclusive.* 46. Every change in public opinion Progress of which this period witnessed con- toierant firmed the principles of religious principles, toleration that had taken root in the earlier part of the century ; the prog- ress of a larger and more catholic the- ology, the weakening of bigotry in the minds of laymen, and the consequent dis- regard of ecclesiastical clamour, not only in England and Holland, but to a consider- able extent in France ; we might even add, the violent proceedings of the last govern- ment, in the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and the cruelties which attended it. Louis XIV., at a time when mankind were beginning to renounce the very theory of persecution, renewed the an- cient enormities of its practice, and thus unconsciously gave the aid of moral sym- pathy and indignation to the adverse argu- ment. The Protestant refugees of France, scattered among their brethren, brought home to all minds the great question of free conscience ; not with the stupid and impudent limitation which even Protest- ants had sometimes employed, that truth indeed might not be restrained, but that error might; a broader foundation was laid by the great advocates of toleration * The Biographic Universelle, art. Leslie, says : Get ouvrage, qui passe pour ce qu'il a fait de mieux, lui a ele conteste. Le Docteur Gleigh [sic] a fait de grands efforts pour prouver qu'il appartenait a Leslie, quoiqu'il fut publie parmi les ouvrages de 1'Abbe de Saint Real, mort en 1092. It is melan- choly to see this petty spirit of cavil against an English writer in so respectable a work as the Biographic Universelle. No grands efforts could be required from Dr. Glei?, or any one else, to prove that a book was written by Leslie, which bore his name, which was addressed to an English peer, and had gone through many editions, when there is literally no claimant on the other side ; for a post- humous edition, forty years after an author's death, without attestation, is no literary evidence at all, even where a book is published for the first time, much less where it, has a known status as the pro- duction of a certain author. This is so manifest to any one who has the slightest tincture of critical judgment, that we need not urge the palpable im- probability of ascribing to Saint Real, a Romish ecclesiastic, an argument which turns peculiarly on the distinction between the scriptural miracles and those alleged upon inferior evidence. I have lost, or never made, the reference to Prosper Marchand ; but the passage will be found in his Dictionnaire Historique, which contains a full article on Saint Real. in this period, Bayle, Limborch, and Locke, as it had formerly been by Taylor and Episcopius.* 47. Bayle, in 1686, while yet the smart of his banishment was keenly Bayle , 3 Phi , felt, published his Philosophical osophicai Commentary on the text in c mn '<"itary. Scripture, "Compel them to come in;" a text which some of the advocates of persecution were accustomed to produce. He gives in the first part nine reasons against this literal meaning, among which none are philological. In the second part he replies to various objections. This work of Bayle docs not seem to me as subtle and logical as he was wont to be, notwithstanding the formal syllogisms with which he commences each of his chapters. His argument against compul- sory conversions, which the absurd inter- pretation of the text by his adversaries required, is indeed irresistible ; but this is far from sufficiently establishing the right of toleration itself. It appears not very difficult for a skilful sophist, and none was more so than Bayle himself, to have met some of his reasoning with a specious re- ply. The skeptical argument of Taylor, that we can rarely be sure of knowing the truth ourselves, and, consequently, of con- demning in others what is error, he touches but slightly ; nor does he dwell on the political advantages which experience has shown a full toleration to possess. In the third part of the Philosophical Comment- ary he refutes the apology of Augustin for persecution ; and a few years after- ward he published a supplement answer- ing a book of Jurieu, which had appeared in the mean time. 48. Locke published anonymously his Letter on Toleration in 1689. ], oche . s L^. The season was propitious; a leronToier legal tolerance of public worship ation - had first been granted to the dissenters after the revolution, limited indeed to such as held most of the doctrines of the Church, but preparing the nation for a more ex- tensive application of its spirit. In the Liberty of Prophesying Taylor had chiefly in view to deduce the justice of tolerating a diversity in religion from the difficulty of knowing the truth. He is not very con- sistent as to the political question, and limits too narrowly the province of toler- * The Dutch clergy, and a French minister in Holland, Jurieu. of great polemical fame in his day, though now chiefly knowrl by means of his adver- saries. Bayle and Le Clerc, strenuously resisted both the theory of general toleration, and the mod- erate or liberal principles in religion which were connected with it. Le Clerc passed his life in fight- ing this battle, and many articles in the Bibliotheque Universelle relate to it. 294 LITERATURE OF EUROPE able opinions. Locke goes more express- ly to the right of the civil magistrate, not omitting, but dwelling less forcibly on the latitudinarian skepticism of his predeces- sor. His own theory of government came to his aid. The clergy in general, and perhaps Taylor himself, had derived the magistrate's jurisdiction from paternal power. Anti^as they apparently assumed this power to extend over adult children, it was natural to give those who succeeded to it in political communities a large sway over the moral and religious behaviour of subjects. Locke, adopting the opposite theory of compact, defines the common- wealth to be a society of men constituted only for the procuring, preserving, and advancing their own civil interests. He denies altogether that the care of souls belongs to the civil magistrate, as it has never been committed to him. " All the power of civil government relates only to men's civil interests, is confined to the things of this world, and hath nothing to do with the world to come." 49. The admission of this principle would apparently decide the controversy, so far as it rests on religious grounds. But Locke has recourse to several other arguments independent of it. He proves, with no great difficulty, that the civil power cannot judge, or consistently with any true prin- ciple of religion, compel men to profess what they do not believe. This, however, is what very few would at present be in- clined to maintain. The real question was as to the publicity of opinions deemed heterodox, and especially in social wor- ship ; and this is what those who held the magistrate to possess an authority patri- archal, universal, and arbitrary, and who were also rigidly tenacious of the neces- sity of an orthodox faith, and perfectly convinced that it was no other than their own, would hardly be persuaded to admit by any arguments that Locke has alleged. But the tendency of public opinion had begun to manifest itself against both these tenets of the High-church party, so that, in the eighteenth century, the principles of general tolerance became too popular to be disputed with any chance of atten- tion. Locke was engaged in a controversy through his first letter on toleration, which produced a second and a third : but it does not appear that these, though longer than the first, have considerably modified its positions.* It is to be observed that he * Warburton has fancied that Locke's real senti- ments are only discoverable in his first Letter on Toleration, and that in the two latter he " combats his intolerant adversary quite through the contro- versy with his own principles, well foreseeing that, pleads for the universal toleration of all modes of worship not immoral in their nature, or involving doctrines inimical to s;ood government; placing in the latter category some tenets of the Church of Rome. 50. It is confessed by Goujet that, even in the middle of the seventeenth French century, France could boast very Sermons - iittle of pulpit eloquence. Frequent quo- tations from heathen writers and from the choolmen, with little solid morality and less good reasoning, make up the sermons of that age.* But the revolution in this style, as in all others, though perhaps gradual, was complete in the reign of Lou- is XIV. A slight sprinkling of passages from the fathers, and still more frequently from the Scriptures, but always short, and seeming to rise out of the preacher's heart rather than to be sought for in his memory, replaced that intolerable parade of a theological commonplace book, which had been as customary in France as in England. The style was to be the per- fection of French eloquence, the reason- ing persuasive rather than dogmatic, the arrangement more methodical and distrib- utive than at present, but without the ex- cess we find in our old preachers. This is the general character of French ser- mons ; but those who most adorned the pulpit, had, of course, their individual dis- tinctions. Without delaying to mention those who are now not greatly remember- ed, such as La Rue, Hubert, Mascaron, we must confine ourselves to three of high reputation, Bourdaloue, Bossuet, and Flechier. 51. Bourdaloue, a Jesuit, but as little of a Jesuit, in the worst acceptation ..,,_. , r . ujuruaioue. of the word, as the order has produced, is remarkably simple, earnest, practical : he convinces rather than com- mands, and by convincing he persuades ; for his discourses tend always to some duty, to something that is to be done 01 avoided. His sentences are short, inter- rogative, full of plain and solid reasoning, unambitious in expression, and wholly without that care in the choice of words and cadences which we detect in Bossuet and Flechier. No one would call Bour- daloue a rhetorican ; and, though he con- tinually introduces the fathers, he has not caught their vices of language, t at such a time of prejudice, arguments built on re- ceived opinions would have greatest weight, and make quickest impression on the body of the people, whom it was his business to gain." Biogr. Britan- nica, art. Locke. * Bibliotheque Francaise, vol. ii., p. 283. t The public did justice to Bourdaloue, as they generally do to a solid and impressive style of preach- FROM 1G50 TO 1700. 295 52. Botirdaloue is almosi in the same Compared relation to Bossuet as Patru to with Bossuet. L e Maistre, though the two or- ators of the pulpit are far above those of the bar. As the one is short, condensed, plain, reasoning, and, though never feeble, not often what is generally called elo- quent, so the other is animated, figura- tive, rather diffuse and prodigal of orna- ment, addressing the imagination more than the judgment, rich and copious in ca- dence, elevating the hearer to the pitch of his own sublimity. Bossuet is sometimes too declamatory ; and Bourdaloue, per- haps, sometimes borders on dryness. Much in the sermons of the former is true poetry ; but he has less of satisfactory and persuasive reasoning than the latter. His tone is also, as in all his writings, too domineering and dogmatical for those who demand something beyond the speaker's authority when they listen. 53. The sermons, however, of Bossuet, Funenii taken generally, are not reckon- discourses ed in the highest class of his ossuet. m i merous writings ; perhaps scarcely justice has been done to them. His genius, on the other hand, by univer- sal confession, never shone higher than in the six which bear the name of Orai- sons Funebres. They belong, in substance, so much more naturally to the province of eloquence than of theology, that I should have reserved them for another place if the separation would not have seemed rather unexpected to the reader. Few works of genius, perhaps, in the French language are better known, or have been more prodigally extolled. In that style of eloquence which the ancients called demonstrative, or, rather, descrip- tive (emfieiKTiKOf), the Style of panegyric or commemoration, they are doubtless su- perior to those justly celebrated produc- tions of Thucydides and Plato that have descended to us from Greece ; nor has Bossuet been equalled by any later wri- ter. Those on the Queen of England, on her daughter the Duchess of Orleans, and on the Prince of Conde, outshine the rest ; and if a difference is to be made among j these, we might, perhaps, after some hes- itation, confer the palm on the first. The range of topics is so various, the thoughts so just, the images so noble and poetical, the whole is in such perfect keeping, the tone of awful contemplation is so uniform, that if it has not any passages of such ex- traordinary beauty as occur in the other two, its general effect on the mind is more irresistible.* 54. In this style, much more of orna- ment, more of what speaks in the spirit, and even the very phrase of poetry to the imagination and the heart, is permit- ted by a rigorous criticism than in foren- sic or in deliberative eloquence. The beauties that rise before the author's vis- ion are not renounced ; the brilliant col- ours of his fancy are subdued ; the periods assume a more rhythmical cadence, and emulate, like metre itself, the voluptuous harmony of musical intervals ; the whole composition is more evidently formed to delight ; but it will delight to little pur- pose, or even cease, in any strong sense of the word, to do so at all, unless it is en- nobled by moral wisdom. In this Bos- suet was pre-eminent ; his thoughts are never subtle or far-fetched ; they have a sort of breadth, a generality of application, which is peculiarly required in those who address a mixed assembly, and which many that aim at what is profound and original are apt to miss. It may be con- fessed, that these funeral discourses are not exempt from some defects, frequently inherent in panegyrical eloquence ; they are sometimes too rhetorical, and do not appear to show so little effort as some have fancied ; the amplifications are some- times too unmeasured, the language some- times borders too nearly on that of the stage ; above all, there is a tone of adula- tion not quite pleasing to a calm posterity. 55. Flechier (the third name of the sev- ing. Jecrois, saysGoujet, p. 300, que tout le monde convient qu" aucun autre ne lui est superieur. C'est le grand inrutre pour 1'eloquence dp, lachaire; c'est le prince des predicateurs. Le public n'a jamais etc partage sur son sujet ; la ville et la cour 1'ont egalernent estime et admire. C'est qu'il avoit re uni en sa personno tous les grands caracteres de la bonne eloquence ; la simplicite du discours Chretien avec la majeste et la grandeur, le sublime avec 1'in- telligible et le populaire, la force avec la douceur, la vehemence avec 1'onction, la liberte avec la jus- tesse, et le plus vive ardeur avec la plus pure lumi- An English preacher of conspicuous renown for eloquence was called upon, within no great length of time, to emulate the funeral discourse of Bossuet on the sudden death of Henrietta of Or- leans. He had before him a subject incomparably more deep in interest, more fertile in great and touching associations ; he had to describe, not the false sorrow of courtiers, not the shriek of sudden surprise that echoed by night in the halls of Ver- sailles, not the apocryphal penitence of one so taint- ed by the world's intercourse, but the manly grie* of an entire nation in the withering of those visions of hope which wait upon the untried youth of roy- alty, in its sympathy with grandeur annihilated, with beauty anil innocence precipitated into the tornb. Nor did he sink beneath this subject, ex- cept as compared with Bossuet. The strmon to which my allusion will be understood, is esteemed by many the finest effort of this preacher ; but, if read together with that of its prototype, it will be laid aside as almost feeble and unimpressive. 296 LITERATURE OF EUROPE enteenth century, for Massillon be- :r- longs only to the next), like Bos- suet, has been more celebrated for his fu- neral sermons than for any others; but, in this line, it is unfortunate for him to enter into unavoidable competition with one whom he cannot rival. The French critics extol Flechier for the arrangement and harmony of his periods ; yet even in this, according to La Harpe, he is not es- sentially superior to Bossuet; and to an English ear, accustomed to the long swell of our own writers, and of the Ciceronian school in Latin, he will probably not give so much gratification. He does not want a moral dignity, or a certain elevation of thought, without which the funeral pane- gyric must be contemptible ; but he has not the majestic tone of Bossuet ; he does not, like him, raise the heroes and princes of the earth in order to abase them by paintings of mortality and weakness, or recall the hearer in every passage to something more awful than human pow- er, and more magnificent than human grandeur. This religious solemnity, so characteristic in Bossuet, is hardly felt in the less emphatic sentences of Fl6chier. Even where his exordium is almost wor- thy of comparison, as in the funeral dis- course on Turenne, we find him degener- ate into a trivial eulogy, and he -flatters both more profusely and with less skill. His style is graceful, but not without af- fectation and false taste. La Harpe has not ill compared him to Isocrates among the orators of Greece, the place of Demos- thenes being, of course, reserved for Bos- suet.* * The native critics ascribe a reform in the style of preaching to Paolo Segneri, whom Corniani does not hesitate to call, with the sanction, he eays, of posterity, the father of Italian eloquence. It is to be remembered that in no country has the pulpit been so much degraded by empty declama- tion, and even by a stupid buffoonery. " The lan- guage of Segneri," the same writer observes. " is always full of dignity and harmony. He inlaid it with splendid and elegant expressions, and has thus obtained a place among the authors to whom au- thority has been given by the Delia Crusca diction- ary. His periods are flowing, natural, and intelli- gible, without the affectation of obsolete Tuscan- isms, which pass for graces of the language with many." Tiraboschi, with much commendation of Segneri, admits that we find in him some vestiges of the false taste he endeavoured to reform. The very little that I have seen of the sermons of Seg- neri gives no impression of any merit that can be reckoned more than relative to the miserable tone of his predecessors. The following specimen is from one of his most admired sermons : E Cristo non potra ottenere da voi che gli nmettiate un tor- to, un affronto, tin aggravio, una parolina? Che vorresto da Christo ? Vorreste ch' egli vi si get- tasse supplichevole a piedi a chiedervi questa gra : na ? ID son quasi per dire ch' egli il farebbe ; 56. The style of preaching in England was less ornamental, and spoke Eng i isll less to the imagination and affec- sermons: tions than these celebrated wri- 1:arrow - ters of the Gallican Church ; but in some of our chief divines it had its own excel- lences. The sermons of Barrow display a strength of mind, a comprehensiveness and fertility which have rarely been equal- led. No* better proof can be given than his eight sermons on the government of the tongue ; copious and exhaustive, with- out tautology or superfluous declamation, they are, in moral preaching, what the best parts of Aristotle are in ethical phi- losophy, with more of development and a more extensive observation. It would be said of these sermons, and, indeed, with a few exceptions, of all those of Barrow, that they are not what is called evangeli- cal ; they indicate the ascendancy of an Arminian party, dwelling far more than is usual in the pulpit on moral and rational, or even temporal inducements, and some- times hardly abstaining from what would give a little offence in later times.* His quotations, also, from ancient philoso- phers, though not so numerous as in Tay- lor, are equally uncongenial to our ears. In his style, notwithstanding its richness and occasional vivacity, we may censure a redundancy and excess of apposition : it is not sufficient to avoid strict tautolo- gy ; no second phrase (to lay down a gen- eral rule not without exception) should be so like the first, that the reader would nat- urally have understood it to be comprised perche se non dubiti di prostrarsi a piedi di un tra- ditore, qual' era Guida, di lavarglieli, di asciugar- glieli, di baciarglieli, non si vergognerebbe, cred' io, di farsi vedere ginocchioni a pie vostri. Ma vi fa bisogno di tanto per muovervi a compiacerlo ? Ah Cavalieri, Cavalieri, io non vorrei questa volta farvi arrossire. Nel resto io so di certo, ciie se altret- tanto fosse a voi domandato da quella donna cho chiamate la vostra dama, da quella, di cui forsen- nati idolatrate il volto, indovinate le voglie, ambite !e grazie, non vi farete pregar tanto a concederglie- Io. E poi vi fate pregar tanto da un Dio per voi crocefisso 'I O confusione ! O vitupero ! O ver- gogna ! Raccolta di Prose Italiane (in Classic! Italiani), vol. ii., p. 345. This is certainly not the manner of Bossuet, and more like that of a third-rate Methodist among us. * Thus, in his sermon against evil speaking (xvi.), Barrow treats it as fil " for rustic boors, or men of coarsest education and employment, who, having their minds debased by being conversant in meanest affairs, do vent their sorry passions and bicker about their petty concernments in such strains ; who also, not being capable of a fair repu- tation, or sensible of disgrace to themselves, do lit- tle value the credit of others, or care for aspersing it. But such language is unworthy of those per- sons, and canrioc easily be drawn from them who are wont to exercise their thoughts about nobler matters," &c. No one would venture this now from the pulpit. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 297 therein. Bam w's language is more anti- quated and formal than that of his age ; and he abounds too much in uncommon words of Latin derivation, frequently sucli as appear to have no authority but his own. 57. South's sermons begin, in order of South ^ ate ' Before *he Restoration, and come down to nearly the end of the century. They were much celebrated at the time, and retain a portion of their re- nown. This is by no means surprising. South had great qualifications for that pop- ularity which attends the pulpit, and his manner was at that time original. Not diffuse, not learned, not formal in argu- ment like Barrow, with a more natural structure of sentences, a more pointed, though by no means a more fair and sat- isfactory turn of reasoning ; with a style clear and English, free from all pedantry, but abounding witli those colloquial nov- elties of idiom which, though now become vulgar and offensive, the age of Charles II. affected : sparing no personal or tem- porary sarcasm, but, if he seems for a moment to tread on the verge of buffoon- ery, recovering himself by some stroke of vigorous sense and language ; such was the witty Dr. South, whom the courtiers delighted to hear. His sermons want all that is called unction, and sometimes even earnestness, which is owing, in a great measure, to a perpetual tone of gibing at rebels and fanatics ; but there is a mascu- line spirit about them which, combined with their peculiar characteristics, would naturally fill the churches where he might be heard. South appears to bend towards the Arminian theology, without adopting so much of it as some of his contempora- ries. 58. The sermons of Tillotson were for ha ^ a centUT 7 more read than any in our language. They are now bought almost as waste paper, and hardly read at all. Such is the fickleness of re- ligious taste, as abundantly numerous in- stances would prove. Tillotson is reck- oned verbose and languid. He has not the former defect in nearly so great a de- gree as some of his eminent predeces- sors ; but there is certainly little vigour or vivacity in his style. Full of the Romish controversy, he is perpetually recurring to that " world's debate :" and he is not much less hostile to all the Calvinistic tenets. What is most remarkable in the theology of Tillotson is his strong assertion, in al- most all his sermons, of the principles of natural religion and morality, not only as the basis of all revelation, without a de- pendance on which it cannot be believed, but as nearly coincident with Christianity VOL. II. P P Tiiiotson in its extent, a length to which few at pres- ent would be ready to follow him. Til- lotson is always of a tolerant and catholic spirit, enforcing right actions rather than orthodox opinions, and obnoxious, for that and other reasons, to all the bigots of his own age. 59. It has become necessary to draw towards a conclusion of this chap- Expository ter; the materials are far from Theology, being exhausted. In expository, or, as some call it, exegetical theology, the Eng- lish divines had already taken a conspicu- ous station. Andres, no partial estimator of Protestant writers, extols them with marked praise.* Those who belonged to the earlier part of the century form a por- tion of a vast collection, the Critici Sacri, published by one Bee, a bookseller, in 1660. This was in nine folio volumes ; and in 1669, Matthew Pool, a nonconform- ing minister, produced his Synopsis Crit- icorum, in five volumes, being in great measure an abridgment and digest of the former. Bee complained of the infraction of his copyright, or, rather, his equitable interest ; but such a dispute hardly per- tains to our history. f The work of Pool was evidently a more original labour than the former. Hammond, Patrick, and oth- er commentators do honour to the Angli- can Church in the latter part of the cen- tury. 60. Pearson's Exposition of the Apos- tles' Creed, published in 1659, is Pearson on a standard book in English divin- lhc treed ity. It expands beyond the literal purport of the creed itself to most articles of or- thodox belief, and is a valuable summary of arguments and authorities on that side. The closeness of Pearson, and his judi- cious selection of proofs, distinguish him from many, especially "the earlier, theo- logians. Some might surmise that his un- deviating adherence to what he calls tho Church is hardly consistent with inde- pendence of thinking ; but, considered as an advocate, he is one of much judgment and skill. Such men as Pearson and Stil lingfleet would have been conspicuous at the bar, which we could not quite affirm of Jeremy Taylor. 61. Simon, a regular priest of the con- gregation called The Oratory, Simon's which has been rich in eminent tj" tic ai men, owes much of his fame to his Critical History of the Old Testament This work, bold in many of its positions * I soli Inglesi, cho ampio spazio non dovrebbono oecmiare in questo capo dell' esegetica sacra, se 1' istituto dclla nostr' opera ci permettesse tener dietro a tmti i piO degni della nostra stima? VoL xix., p. 253. t Chalmers 298 LITERATURE OF as it then seemed to both the Catholic and Protestant orthodox, after being nearly strangled by Bossuet in France, appeared at Rotterdam in 1685. Bossuet attacked it with extreme vivacity, but with a real inferiority to Simon both in learning and candour.* Le Clerc, on his side, carped more at the Critical History than it seems to deserve. Many paradoxes, as they then were called, in this famous work are now received as truth, or, at least, pass without reproof. Simon may possibly be too prone to novelty ; but a love of truth, as well as great acuteness, are visible throughout. His Critical History of the New Testament was published in 1689, and one or two more works of a similar description before the close of the century. 62. I have on a former occasion advert- ed, in a corresponding chapter, to publica- tions on witchcraft and similar supersti- tions. Several might be mentioned at this time ; the belief in such tales was as- sailed by a prevalent skepticism which called out their advocates. Of these, the most unworthy to have exhibited their great talents in such a cause were our own philosophers Henry More and Joseph Glanvil. The Sadducismus Triumphatus, or Treatise on Apparitions, by the lat- ter, has passed through several editions, while his Scepsis Scientifica has hardly been seen, perhaps, by six living persons. A Dutch minister, by name Bekker, raised a great clamour against himself by a down- right denial of all power to the devil, and, consequently, to his supposed instruments, the ancient beldams of Holland and other countries. His Monde Enchante, origi- nally published in Dutch, is in four vol- umes, written in a systematic manner, and with tedious prolixity. There was no ground for imputing infidelity to the au- thor, except the usual ground of calumni- ating every one who quits the beaten path in theology ; but his explanations of Scrip- ture in the case of the demoniacs and the like are, as usual with those who have taken the same line, rather forced. The fourth volume, which contains several cu- rious stories of imagined possession, and some which resemble what is now called magnetism, is the only part of Bekker's once celebrated book that can be read with any pleasure. Bekker was a Carte- sian, and his theory was built too much on Cartesian assumptions of the impossi- bility of spirit acting on body, which are easily parried by denying his inference i from them. CHAPTER III. HISTORY OF SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY FROM 1650 TO 1700. Aristotelians. Logicians. Cud worth. Sketch of the Philosophy of Gassendi. Carlesianism. Port-Royal Logic. Analysis of the Search for Truth of Malebranche, and of the Ethics of Spinosa. Glanvil. Locke's Essay on the Hu- man Understanding. 1. THE Aristotelian and scholastic met- Aristoteiian aphysics, though shaken on ev- metapnysics. er y s i(j e) anc [ especially by the rapid progress of the Cartesian theories, had not lost their hold over the theolo- gians of the Roman Church, or even the Protestant universities, at the beginning of this period, and hardly at its close. Brucker enumerates several writers of that class in Germany ;f and we find, as late as 1693, a formal injunction by the Sorbonne, that none who taught philoso- * Defense de la Tradition des Saints Peres. CEuvres de Bossuet, vol. v., and instructions sur la Version du N. T., imprimee a Trevoux, Id., vol. iv., 313. Bausset, Vie de Bossuet, iv., 276. t Vol. iv. See his long and laborious chapter on the Aristotelian philosophers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries : no one else seems to have done more than copy Brucker. phy in the colleges under its jurisdiction should introduce any novelties, or swerve from the Aristotelian doctrine.* The Jes- uits, rather unfortunately for their credit, distinguished themselves as strenuous ad- vocates of the old philosophy, and thus lost the advantage they had obtained in philology as enemies of barbarous preju- dice, and encouragers of a progressive spirit in their disciples. Rapin, one of their most accomplished men, after speak- ing with little respect of the Novum Or- ganum, extols the disputations of the schools as the best method in the educa- tion of young men, who, as he fancies, * Cum relatum esset ad Societatem (Sorboni- cam) nonnullos philosophise professores, ex iia etiam aliquando qui ad Societatem anhelant, novas quasdam doctrinas in philosophicis sectari, mi- nusque Aristotelicae doctrinae stuciere, quatn hac tenus usurpatum fuerit in Academia Parisiensi, censuit Societas injungendum esse illis, imo et iis qui docent philosophiam in collegiis suo regimini creditis, ne deinceps ncvitatibus studeant, aut ab Aristotelica doctrina deflectant, 31 Dec., 1693. Argentre, Collectio Judiciorum, iii., 150. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 299 havt) too little experience to delight in physical science.* 2. It is a difficult and dangerous choice, Th . . in a new state of public opinion (and ciine. we have to make it at present), Thomas between that which may itself Me ' pass away, and that which must efface what has gone before. Those who clung to the ancient philosophy be- lieved that Bacon and Descartes were the idols of a transitory fashion, and that the wisdom of long ages would regain its as- cendancy. They were deceived, and their own reputation has been swept off with the systems to which they adhered. Thomas White, an English Catholic priest, whose Latin appellation is Albius, endeavoured to maintain the Aristotelian metaphysics and the scholastic terminolo- gy in several works, and especially in an attack upon Glanvil's Vanity of Dogma- tizing. This book, entitled Sciri, I know only through Glanvil's reply in his second edition, by which White appears to be a mere Aristotelian. He was a friend of Sir Kenelm Digby, who was himself, though a man of considerable talents, in- capable of disentangling his mind from the Peripatetic hypotheses. The power of words, indeed, is so great ; the illusions of what is called realism, or of believing that general terms have an objective ex- terior being, are so natural, and especially so bound up both with our notions of es- sential, especially theological, truth, and with our popular language, that no man could in that age be much censured for not casting off his fetters, even when he had heard the call to liberty from some mod- ern voices. We find that, even after two centuries of a better method, many are al- ways ready to fall back into a verbal pro- cess of theorizing. 3. Logic was taught in the Aristotelian method, or, rather, in one which, gic ' with some change for the worse, had been gradually founded upon it. Bur- gersdicius, in this and in other sciences, seems to have been in repute ; Smigle- cius also is mentioned with praise. t * Reflexions sur la Poetique, p. 368. He ad- mits, however, that to introduce more experiment and observation would be an improvement. Du reste il y a apparence que les loix, qui ne souffrent point d'innovation dans 1'usage des choses univer- spllement ctablies, n'autorisercnt point d'autre me- thode que celle qui est aujourd'hui en usage dans les universites ; afin de ne pas donner trop de li- cence a la passion qu'on a naturellernent pour les nouvelles opinions, dont le cours est d'une dan- gereuse consequence dans un tat bien regie ; vu particulierement que la philosophic est un des or- ganes dont se sert la religion pour s'expliquer dans ses decisions. t La Logique de Smiglecius, says Rapin, est These lived both in the former part of the century. But they were superseded, at least in England, by Wallis, whose In- stitutio Logics ad Communes Usus Ac- commodata was published in 1687. He claims, as an improvement upon the re- ceived system, the classifying singular propositions among universals.* Ramus had made a third class of them, and in this he seems to have been generally fol- lowed. Aristotle, though it does not ap- pear that he is explicit on the subject, does not rank them as particular. That Wallis is right cannot be doubted by any one who reflects at all ; but his originality we must not assert. The same had been perceived by the authors of the Port- Royal Logic; a work to which he has made no allusion. f Wallis claims also as his own the method of reducing hypo- thetical to categorical syllogisms, and proves it elaborately in a separate disser- tation. A smaller treatise, still much used at Oxford, by Aldrich, Compendium Artis Logicae, 1691, is clear and concise, but seems tp contain nothing very impor- tant ; and he alludes to the Art de Penser in a tone of insolence, which must rouse indignation in those who are acquainted with that excellent work. Aldrich's cen- sures are, in many instances, mere cavil and misrepresentation ; I do not know that they are right in any.J Of the Art un bel ouvrage. The same writer proceeds to ob- serve that the Spaniards of the preceding: century lia'l corrupted logic by their subtleties. En se jet tant dans des speculations creuses qui n'avoient rien de reel, leur philosophies trouverent 1'art d'avoir de la raison malgre le bon sens, et de donner de la coule'ur, et me'me je ne scai quoi de specieuse, a ce qui eloit de plus deraisonnable, p. 382. But this must have been rather the fault of their metaphys- ics than of what is strictly called logic. * Atque hoc signanter notatum velim,quia novus forte hie videar, et prater aliorurn loquendi forrnu- lam hsec dicere. Nam plerique logici propositio- nem quam vocant singularem, hoc est, de subjecto individuo sivc singulari, pro particular! haberit, non universal!. Sed perperam hoc faciunt, et praeter mentem Aristotelis (qui, quantum memini, nun- quam ejusmodi singularem, rqv nara pcpos appellat ant pro talihabet); et prater rei naiuram : Non enim hie agitur de particularitate snbjecti (quod aTOfiov vocal Aristotelis, non Kara pcpcs) sed de par- tialitate praedicatioms Neque ego interim no- vator censendus sum qui ha-c dixerim, sed illi po- tius novfrtores qui ab Aristotelicadoctrina recesse- rint ; eoque multa introduxerint inconunuda de quibus suo loco dicetur, p. 125. He has afterward a separate dissertation or thesis to prove this more at length. It seems that the Ramists held a third class of propositions, neither universal nor particu- lar, to which they gave the name of prcpria, equiv- alent to singular. t Art de Penser, part ii., chap. iii. j One of Aldrich's charges against the author of the Art de Penser is, that he brings forward as a great discovery the equality of the angles of a 300 LITERATURE OF EUROPE de Penser itself we shall have something to say in the course of this chapter. 4. Before we proceed to those whose Stanley's philosophy may be reckoned ori- History of ginal, or, at least, modern, a very Philosophy. j- ew 8 osophicum. But he had seen an epitome o Abridgment of the Philosophy of Gasstn di- Gassendi by Bernier, published at Lyons in 1678. and finding in this the doctrine of Locke on ideas of reflection, conceived that it did not faithfully represent its own original. But this, was hardly a very plausible conjecture ; Bernier being a man of considerable ability, an intimate friend of Gassendi, and his epitome being so far from concise that it extends to eight small volumes. Having not indeed collated the two books, but read them within a short interval of time, I can say that Bernier has given a faithful account of the philoso- phy of Gassendi, as it is contained in the Syntagma Philosophicum, for he takes no- tice of no other work ; nor has he here * In quibus semper aliqiml argumentando colli- gitur, quod et veruin esse iritelligunus et imaginan- do non assequirnur tamen. t Histoire Compares des Systemes (1804), vol. i , p. 301, and Biogr. Universelle, art. Gassendi. Yet in neither of these does M. Degerando advert ex- pressly to the peculiar resemblance between the systems of" Gasst-ndi and Locke, in the account they give of ideas of reflection. He refers, however, to a more particular essay of his own on the Gassen- dian philosophy, which I have not seen. As to Locke's positive obligations to his predecessor, I should be, perhaps, inclined to doubt whether he, who was no great lover of large books, had read so unwieldy a work as the Syntagma Philosophicum ; but the abridgment of Bernier would have sufficed. t Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopedia. VOL. II. Q Q * Gassendi Opera, vol. vi., p. 130. These letters are interesting to those who would study the philos- ophy of Gassendi. t Baillet, in hia Life of Descartes, would lead us to think that Gassendi was too much influenced by personal motives in writing against Descartes, who had mentioned the phenomena of parhelia without alluding to a dissertation of Gassendi on the sub- ject. The latter, it seems, owns in a letter to Rivet I hat he should not have examined so closely the metaphysics of Descartes if he had been treated by him with as much politeness as he had expected. Viede Descartes, liv. vi. The retort of Descartes, O Caro ! (see p. 96 of this vol.), offended Gassendi, and caused a coldness; which, according to Baillet, Sorb:ere aggravated acting a treacherous part in exasperating the mind of Gassendi. MTERATURE OF EUROPE added anything of his own. But in 1682 he published another little book, entitled Doutes de M. Bernier sur quelques uns des principaux Chapitres de son Abrege de la Philosophic de Gassendi. One of these doubts relates to the existence of space ; and in another place he denies the reality of eternity or abstract duration. Bernier observes, as Descartes had done, that it is vain and even dangerous to at- tempt a definition of evident things, such as motion, because we are apt to mistake a definition of the word for one of the thing ; and philosophers seem to conceive that motion is a real being, when they talk of a billiard-ball communicating or losing it.* 28. The Cartesian philosophy, which its Progress of adversaries had expected to ex- Cartesian pire with its founder, spread more philosophy. and more after his death, nor had it ever depended on any personal favour or popularity of Descartes, since he did not possess such except with a few friends. The churches and schools of Holland were full of Cartesians. The old scholastic philosophy became ridiculous ; its distinc- tions, its maxims, were laughed at, as its adherents complain ; and probably a more fatal blow was given to the Aristotelian system by Descartes than even by Bacon. The Cartesian theories were obnoxious to the rigid class of theologians ; but two parties of considerable importance in Hol- land, the Arminians and the Coccejans, generally espoused the new philosophy. Many speculations in/theology were im- mediately connected with it, and it acted on the free and scrutinizing spirit which began to sap the bulwarks of establish- ed orthodoxy. The Cartesians were de- nounced in ecclesiastical synods, and were hardly admitted to any office in the church. They were condemned by several univer- sities, and especially by that of Leyden in 1678, for the position that the truth of scripture must be proved by reason.f Nor * Even Gassendi has defined duration " an in- corporeal flowing extension," which is a good in- stance of the success that can attend such defini- tions of simple ideas. f Leyden had condemned the whole Cartesian system as early as 1651, on the ground that it was an innovation on the Aristotelian philosophy so long received ; and ordained, ut in Academia intra Ans- totelicse philosophise limites, quas hie hactenus re- cepta fuit, nos contineamus, utque in posterum nee philosophic, neque nominis Cartesian! in disputa- tionibus lectionibus aut publicis aliis exercitiis, nee pro nee contra mentio fiat. Utrecht, in 1644, had gone farther, and her decree is couched in terms which might have been used by any one who wished to ridicule university prejudice by a forgery. Kejicere novam istam philosophiam, priino quia veteri philosophise, quam Academias toto orbi terra- rum hactenus optimo consifco docuere, adversatur, were they less exposed to persecution in France.* 29. The Cartesian philosophy, in one sense, carried in itself the seeds of its own decline ; it was the Scylla of many dogs ; it taught men to think for them- selves, and to think often better than Des- cartes had done. A new eclectic philoso- phy, or, rather, the genuine spirit of free inquiry, made Cartesianism cease as a sect, though it left much that had been in- troduced by it. We owe thanks to these Cartesians of the seventeenth century for their strenuous assertion of reason against prescriptive authority : the latter part of this age was signalized by the overthrow of a despotism which had fought every inch in its retreat, and it was manifestly after a struggle, on the Continent, with this new philosophy, that it was ultimate- ly vanquished. f 30. The Cartesian writers of France, the Low Countries, and Germany, La Forge. were numerous and respectable. R s is - La Forge, of Saumur, first developed the th'eory of occasional causes to explain the union of soul and body, wherein he was followed by Geulinx, Regis, Wittich, and Malebranche.l But this and other inno- vations displeased the stricter Cartesians, who did not find them in their master. Clauberg in Germany, Clerselier in France, Le Grand in the Low Countries, should ejusque fundamenta subvertit ; deinde quia juven- tutem a veteri et sana philosophia avertit, impedit- que quo minus ad culmen erttditionis provehatur ; eo quod istius prsesumptae philosophic adminiculo et technologemafa in auctorum libris professorumque lec- tionibus et disputationibus usitata, percipere acquit; postremo quod ex eadem variae falsa et absurds opiniones partim consignantur, partim ab improvida juventute deduci possint pugnantcs cum cagteria disciplmis et facultatibus, atque imprimis cum or- thodoxa theologia ; censere igitur et statuere omnes philosophiam in hacacademiadocentes imposterum a tali institute et incepto abstinere debere, conten- tos modica libertate dissentiendi in singularibus non- nullis opinionibus ad aliarum celebrium Acade- miarum exemplum hie usitata, ita ut veteris et re- ceptse philosophise fundamenta non labefactent. Tepel., Hist. Philos. Cartesians, p. 75. * An account of the manner in which the Carte sians were harassed through the Jesuits is give* by M. Cousin, in the Journal des Savans, March 1838. t For the fate of the Cartesian philosophy in the life of its founder, see the life of Descartes by Bail let, 2 vols. in quarto, which he afterward abridged in 12mo. After the death of Descartes, it may be best traced by means of Brucker. Buhle, as usual, is a mere copyist of his predecessor. He has, how- ever, given a fuller account of Regis. A contem- porary History of Cartesian Philosophy by Tepel contains rather a neatly written summary of the controve -sies it excited both in the lifetime of Descartes and for a few years afterward. t Tennemann (Manuel de la Philosophic, ii , 99) ascribes this theory to Geulinx. See also Bruck- er, v., 704. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 307 be mentioned among the leaders of the school. But no one has left so compre- hensive a statement and defence of Car- tesianism as Jean Silvain Regis, whose Systeme de la Philosophic, in three quarto volumes, appeared at Paris in 1690. It is divided into four parts, on Logic, Meta- physics, Physics, and Ethics. In the three latter Regis claims nothing as his own except some explanations, " All that I have said being due to M. Descartes, whose method and principles I have followed, even in explanations that are different from his own." And in his Logic he professes to have gone little beyond the author of the Art de Penser.* Notwith- standing this rare modesty, Regis is not a' writer unworthy of being consulted by the studious of philosophy, nor deficient in clearer and fuller statements than will al- ways be found m Descartes. It might even be said that he has many things which would be sought in vain through his master's writings, though I am unable to prove that they might not be traced in those of the intermediate Cartesians. Though our limits will not permit any farther account of Regis, I will give a few passages in a note.f * It is remarkable that Regis says nothing about figures and modes of syllogism : Nous ne dirons rien des figures we des syllogismes en general ; car bien que tout cela puisse servir de quelque chose pour la speculation de la logique, il n'est au moins d'aucuri usage pour la pratique, laquelle est 1'unique but que nous nous sornmes proposes dans ce traite, p. 37. t Regis, in imitation of his master, and perhaps with more clearness, observes that our knowledge of our own existence is not derived from reasoning, mais par line connoissance simple et inte>ieure, jui precede toutes les connoissances acquises, et qui j'appelle conscience. En effet, quand je dis que je connpis ou que je crois connoitre, ce je presup- pose lui-me'ine mon existence, tant impossible que je connoisse, on seulement que je croye connoitre, et que je ne sois pas quelque chose d'existant, p. 68. The Cartesian paradox, as it has been deemed, that thinking is the essence of the soul, Regis has ex- plained away. After coming to the conclusion, Je euis done une pensee, he immediately corrects him- self: Cependant je crains encore de me d^finir mal, quand je dis que je suis une pensee, qui a la propri- 6t6 de douter et d'avoir de la certitude ; car quelle apparence y a t'il que ma nature, qui doit e"tre une chose fixe et permanente, consiste dans la pensee, puisque je sais par experience que mes pens6es Bont dans un flux continuel, et que je ne pense ja- mais a la me'rrie chose deux momens de suite ? mais quand je considere la difficulte de plus pres, je con- c,ois aisement qu'elle vient de ce que le mot de pen- tde est equivoque, et que je m'en sers indifferem- ment pour sigmfier la pensee qui constitue ma na- ture, et pour designer les differentes manieres d'etre de cette pensee ; ce qui est une erreur extreme, car il y a cette difference centre la pens6e qui constitue ma nature, et les pensees,qui n'en sont que les ma- nitres d'etre, que la premiere est une pensee fixe et permanente, et que les autres sont des pens^es changeantes et passageres. C'est pourquoi, afin 31. Huet, bishop of Avranches, a man of more general erudition than Huet'sCen- philosophical acuteness, yet not sureorcar- quite without this, arraigned the tesian n. whole theory in his Censura Philosophise Cartesians. He had been for many years, as he tells us, a favourer of Carte- sianisrn, but his retractation is very com- plete. It cannot be denied that Huet strikes well at the vulnerable parts of the Cartesian metaphysics, and exposes their alternate skepticism and dogmatism with some justice. In other respects he dis- plays an inferior knowledge of the human mind and of the principles of reasoning to Descartes. He repeats Gassendi's cavil, that Cogito, ergo sum, involves the truth of Quod cogitat, est. The Cartesians, de donner une idee exacte de ma nature, je dirai que je suis une pensee qui existe en elle-mlme, et qui est le sujet de toutes mes manieres de penser. Je dis que je suis une pensee pour marquer ce que la pensee qui constitue ma nature a de commun avec la pense'e en general qui comprend sous soi toutes les manieres particulieres de penser: et j'ajonte, qui existe en elle-me'me, et qui est le sujet de differentes manieres de penser, pour designer ce que cette pensee a de partrculier qui la distingue de la pensee en general, vu qu'elle n'existe que dans 1'entendement de celui qui la cone doubtful whether the sense in which he word is to be taken must strike every one in the same way. The clearness of a word does not depend on its association with a distinct conception in our own ninds, but on the generality of this same association in the minds of others. 34. No follower of Descartes has more unambiguously than this author distin- guished between imagination and intellec- ion, though he gives the name of idea to joth. Many suppose, he says, that they annot conceive a thing when they cannot imagine it. But we cannot imagine a fig- ure of 1000 sides, though we can conceive it and reason upon it. We may, indeed, get.a confused image of a figure with many sides, but these are no more 1000 than they are 999. Thus, also, we have ideas of thinking, affirming, denying, and the like, though we have no imagination of these operations. By ideas, therefore, we mean not images painted in the fancy, but all that is in our minds, when we say that we conceive anything, in whatever man- ner we may conceive it. Hence it is easy to judge of the falsehood of some opinions held in this age. One philosopher has advanced that we have no idea of God ; another, that all reasoning is but an as- semblage of words connected by an affirm- ation. He glances here at Gassendi and Hobbes.f Far from all our ideas coming from the senses, as the Aristotelians have said, and as Gassendi asserts in his Logic, we may say, on the contrary, that no idea in our minds is derived from the senses, except occasionally (par occasion) ; that is, the movements of the brain, which is all the organs of sense can affect, give occasion to the soul to form different ideas, which it would not otherwise form, though these ideas have scarce ever any resemblance to what occurs in the or- gans of sense and in the brain, and though there are also very many ideas which, deriving nothing from any bodily image, cannot, without absurdity, be referred to the senses. J This is, perhaps, a clearer statement of an important truth than will . . t The reflection on Gassendi is a mere cavil, as will appear by remarking what he has really said, and which we have quoted a few pages above. The Cartesians were resolute in using onp sense of the word idea, while Gassendi used another. He had himself been to bla-me in his controversy with the father of the new philosophy, and the disciples (call- ing the author of L'Art de Penser such in a gener- al sense) retaliated by equal captiousness. fC. 1. FROM 1660 TO 1700. 309 be found in Malebranche or in Descartes himself. 35. In the second part Arnauld treats of words and propositions. Much of it may be reckoned more within the province of grammar than of logic. But as it is in- convenient to refer the student to works of a different class, especially if it should be the case that no good grammars, writ- ten with a regard to logical principles, were then to be found, this cannot justly be made an objection. In the latter chap- ters of this second part he comes to much that is strictly logical, and taken from or- dinary books on that science. The third part relates to syllogisms ; and, notwith- standing the author's low estimation of that method, in comparison with the gen- eral regard for it in the schools, he has not omitted the common explanations of mood and figure, ending with a concise but good account of the chief sophisms. 36. The fourth and last part is entitled, On Method, and contains the principles of connected reasoning, which he justly ob- serves to be more important than the rules of single syllogisms, wherein few make any mistake. The laws of demonstration given by Pascal are here laid down with some enlargement. Many observations. not wholly bearing on merely logical proof, are found in this part of the treatise. 37. The Port- Royal Logic, though not, perhaps, very much read in England, has always been reckoned among the best works in that science, and certainly had a great influence in rendering it more meta- physical, more ethical (for much is said by Arnauld on the moral discipline of the mind in order to fit it for the investigation of truth), more exempt from technical bar- barisms, and trifling definitions and divis- ions. It became more and more acknowl- edged that the rules of syllogism go a very little way in rendering the mind able to follow a course of inquiry without error, much less in assisting it to discover truth ; and that even their vaunted prerogative of securing us from fallacy is nearly inef- fectual in exercise. The substitution of the French language, in its highest polish, for the uncouth Latinity of the Aristoteli- ans, was another advantage of which the Cartesian school legitimately availed themselves. 38. Malebranche, whose Recherche de la Verite was published in 1674, Malebranche. wag a warm and almost enthu- siastic admirer of Descartes ; but his mind was independent, searching, and fond of Us own inventions ; he acknowledged no master, and in some points dissents from ne Cartesian school. His natural tem- perament was sincere and rigid ; he judges the moral and intellectual failings of man- kind with a severe scrutiny, and a con- temptuousness not generally unjust in it- self, but displaying too great confidence in his own superiority. This was enhanced by a religious mysticism, which enters, as an essential element, into his philosophy of the mind. The fame of Malebranche, and, still more, the popularity in modern times of his Search for Truth, has been affected by that peculiar hypothesis, so mystically expressed, the see'ing all things in God, which has been more remembered than any other part of that treatise. " The union," he says, " of the soul to God is ;he only means by which we acquire a knowledge of truth. This union has in- deed been rendered so obscure by original sin, that few can understand what it means ; to those who follow blindly the dictates of sense and passion, it appears imaginary. The same cause has so for- tified the connexion between the soul and body, that we look on them as one sub- stance, of which the latter is the principal part. And hence we may all fear that we do not well discern the confused sounds with which the senses fill the imagination from that pure voice of truth which speaks to the soul. The body speaks louder than God himself; and our pride makes us pre- sumptuous enough to judge without wait- ing for those words of truth, without which we cannot truly judge at all. And the present work," he adds, " may give evidence of this ; for it is not published as being infallible. But let my readers judge of my opinions according to the clear and distinct answers they shall receive from the only Lord of all men, after they shall have interrogated him by paying a serious attention to the subject." This is a strong evidence of the enthusiastic confidence in supernatural illumination which belongs to Malebranche, and which we are almost surprised to find united with so much cool and acute reasoning as his writings con- tain. 39. The Recherche de la Verite is in six books ; the first five on the errors springing from the senses, from the imagination, from the understanding, from the natural inclinations, and from the passions. The sixth contains the method of avoiding these, which, however, has been anticipated in great measure through- out the preceding. Malebranche has many repetitions, but little, I think, that can be called digressive, though he takes a large range of illustration, and dwells rather dif- fusely on topics of subordinate impor- tance. His stylets admirable ; clear, pre- 310 LITERATURE OF EUROPE cise, elegant ; sparing in metaphors, yei not wanting them in due place ; warm, anc sometimes eloquent; a little redundant but never passionate or declamatory. 40. Error, according to Malebranche, is sketch of the source of all human misery his theory. man j s miserable because he is a sinner, and he would not sin if _he did nol consent to err. For the will alone judge and reasons, the understanding only per- ceiver things and their* relations ; a devi- ation from common language.* The will is active and free ; not that we can avoid willing our own happiness ; but it pos- sesses a power of turning the understand- ing towards such objects as please us, and commanding it to examine everything thoroughly, else we should be perpetually deceived, and without remedy, by the ap- pearances of truth. And this liberty we should use on every occasion : it is to be- come slaves, against the will of God, when we acquiesce in false appearances ; but it is in obedience to the voice of eternal truth which speaks within us that we sub- mit to those secret reproaches of reason which accompany our refusal to yield to evidence. There are, therefore, two fun- damental rules, one for science, the other for morals ; never to give an entire con- sent to any propositions, except those which are so evidently true that we can- not refuse to admit them without an inter- nal uneasiness and reproach of our rea- son ; and never fully to love anything which we can abstain from loving without remorse. We may feel a great inclina- tion to consent absolutely to a probable opinion ; yet, on reflection, we shall find that we are not compelled to do so by any tacit self-reproach if we do not. And we ought to consent to such probable opin- ions for the time, until we have more fully examined the question. 41. The sight is the noblest of our senses; and, if they had been given us to discover truth, it is through vision that we should have done it. But it deceives us in all it represents ; in the size of bodies, their figures and motions, in light and col- ours. None of these are such as they ap- pear, as he proves by many obvious in- stances. Thus we measure the velocity of motion by duration of time and extent of space ; but of duration the mind can form no just estimate, and the eye cannot determine equality of spaces. The diam- eter of the moon is greater by measure- ment when she is high in the heavens ; it appears greater to our eyes in the hori- zon, f On all sides we are beset with er- * L. i., c. 2. t L. i., c. 9. Malebranche was engaged after- ror through our senses. Not that the sensations themselves, properly speaking, deceive us. We are not deceived in sup- posing that we see an orb of light before the sun has risen above the horizon, but in supposing that what we see is the sun itself. Were we even delirious, we should see and feel what our senses present to us, though our judgment as to its reality would be erroneous. And this judgment we may withhold by assenting to nothing without perfect certainty. 42. It would have been impossible for a man endowed with such intrepidity and acuteness as Malebranche to overlook the question, so naturally raised by this skep- tical theory, as to the objective existence of an external world. There is no neces- sary connexion, he observes, between the presence of an idea in the soul and the ex- istence of a thing which it represents, as dreams and delirium prove. Yet we may be confident that extension, figure, and movement do generally exist without us when we perceive them. These are not imaginary ; we are not deceived in believ- ing their reality, though it is very difficult to prove it. But it is far otherwise with colours, smells, or sounds, for these do not exist at all beyond the mind. This he proceeds to show at considerable length'.* In one of the illustrations subsequently written in order to obviate objections, and subjoined to the Recherche de la Verite, Malebranche comes again to this problem of the reality of matter, and concludes by subverting every argument in its favour except what he takes to be the assertion of Scripture. Berkeley, who did not see this in the same light, had scarcely a step to take in his own famous theory, which we may consider as having been antici- pated by Malebranche, with the important exception that what was only skepticism and denial of certainty in the one, became a positive and dogmatic affirmation in the other. 43. In all our sensations there are four things distinct in themselves, but which, examined as they arise simultaneously, we are apt to confound; these are the action of the object, the effect upon the organ of sense, the mere sensation, and the judgment we form as to its cause. We fall into errors as to all these, confound- ing the sensation with the action of bod- ies, as when we say there is heat in the fire or colour in the rose, or confounding the motion of the nerves with sensation, as when we refer heat to the hand ; but, ward in a controversy with Regis on this particu- 'ar question of the horizontal moon. L. i., c. 10. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 311 most of all, in drawing mistaken infer- ences as to the nature of objects from our sensations.* It may be here remarked, that what Malebranche has properly call- ed the judgment of the mind as to the cause of its sensations, is precisely what Reid denominates perception ; a term less clear, and which seems to have led some of his school into important errors. The language of the Scottish philosopher ap- pears to imply, that he considered percep- tion as a distinct and original faculty of the mind rather than what it is, a com- plex operation of the judgment and mem- ory, applying knowledge already acquired by experience. Neither he nor his dis- ciple Stewart, though aware of the mis- takes that have arisen in this province of metaphysics by selecting our instances from the phenomena of vision instead of the other senses, has avoided the same source of error. The sense of sight has the prerogative of enabling us to pro- nounce instantly on the external cause of our sensation ; and this perception is so intimately blended with the sensation it- self, that it has not to our minds, whatev- er may be the case with young children, the least appearance of a judgment. But we need only make our experiment upon sound or smell, and we shall at once ac- knowledge that there is no sort of neces- sary connexion between the sensation and our knowledge of its corresponding exter- nal object We hear sounds continually which we are incapable of referring to any particular body ; nor does any one, I sup- pose, deny that it is by experience alone we learn to pronounce, with more or less of certainty according to its degree, on the causes from which these sensations proceed. 44. Sensation he defines to be " a mod- ification of the soul in relation to some- thing which passes in the body to which she is united." These sensations we know by experience ; it is idle to go about defining and explaining them ; this cannot be clone by words. It is an error, ac- cording to Malebranche, to believe that all men have like sensations from the same objects. In this he goes farther than Pascal, who thinks it probable that they have, while Malebranche holds it in- dubitable, from the organs of men being constructed differently, that they do not receive similar impressions ; instancing music, some smells and flavours, and many other things of the same kind. But it is obvious to reply that he has argued from the exception to the rule ; the great ma- * C. 12. jority of mankind agreeing as to musical sounds (which is the strongest case that can be put against his paradox) and most other sensations. That the sensations of different men, subject to such exceptions, if not strictly alike, are, so to say, in a constant ratio, seems as indisputable as any conclusion we can draw from their testimony. 45. The second book of Malebranche's treatise relates to the imagination, and the errors connected with it. " The ima- gination consists in the power of the mind to form images of objects by producing a change in the fibres of that part of the brain, which may be called principal, be- cause it corresponds with all parts of the body, and is the place where the soul, if we may so speak, immediately resides." This he supposes to be where all the fila- ments of the brain terminate ; so difficult was it, especially in that age, for a philos- opher who had the clearest perception of the soul's immateriality to free himself from the analogies of extended presence and material impulse. The imagination, he says, comprehends two things ; the action of the will, and the obedience of the animal spirits which trace images on the brain. The power of conception depends partly upon the strength of those animal spirits, partly on the qualities of the brain itself. For just as the size, the depth, and the clearness of the lines in an engraving depend on the force with which the graver acts, and on the obedience which the cop- per yields to it, so the depth and clearness of the traces of the imagination depend on the force of the animal spirits, and on the constitution of the fibres of the brain ; and it is the difference of these which oc- casions almost the whole of that vast dif- ference we find in the capacities of men. 46. This arbitrary, though rather spe- cious hypothesis, which, in the present more advanced state of physiology, a phi- losopher might not in all points reject, but would certainly not assume, is spread out by Malebranche over a large part of his work, and especially the second book. The delicacy of the fibres of the brain, he supposes, is one of the chief causes of our not giving sufficient application to difficult subjects. Women possess this delicacy, and hence have more intelligence than men as to all sensible objects ; but what- ever is abstract is to them incomprehensi- ble. The fibres are soft in children, and become stronger with age, the greatest perfection of the understanding being be- tween thirty and fifty ; but with prejudiced men, and especially when they are ad- vanced in life, the hardness of the cerebral 312 LITERATURE OF EUROPE fibre confirms them in error. For we can understand nothing without attention, nor attend to it without having a strong image in the brain, nor can that image be formed without a suppleness and susceptibility of motion in the brain itself. It is therefore highly useful to get the habit of thinking on all subjects, and thus to give the brain a facility of motion analogous to that of the fingers in playing on a musical instru- ment. And this habit is best acquired by seeking truth in difficult things while we are young, because it is then that the fibres are most easily bent in all directions.* 47. This hypothesis, carried so far as it has been by Malebranche, goes very great lengths in asserting not merely a connexion between the cerebral motions and the operations of the mind, but some- thing like a subordination of the latter to a plastic power in the animal spirits of the brain. For if the differences in the intel- lectual powers of mankind, and also, as he afterward maintains, in their moral emotions, are to be accounted for by mere bodily configuration as their regulating cause, little more than a naked individual- ity of consciousness seems to be left to the immaterial principle. No one, how- ever, whether he were staggered by this difficulty or not, had a more decided con- viction of the essential distinction between mind and matter than this disciple of Des- cartes. The soul, he says, does not be- come body, nor the body soul, by their union. Each substance remains as it is, the soul incapable of extension and mo- tion, the body incapable of thought and desire. All the alliance between soul and body which is known to us consists in a natural and mutual correspondence of the thoughts of the former with the traces on the brain, and of its emotions with the traces of the animal spirits. As soon as the soul receives new ideas, new traces are imprinted on the brain ; and as soon as external objects imprint new traces, the soul receives new ideas. Not that it contemplates these traces, for it has no knowledge of them ; nor that the traces contain the ideas, since they have no re- lation to them ; nor that the soul receives her ideas from the traces, for it is incon- ceivable that the soul should receive any- thing from the body, and become more enlightened, as some philosophers (mean- ing Gassendi) express it, by turning itself towards the phantasms in the brain. Thus, also, when the soul wills that the arm should move, the arm moves, though she does not even know what else is neces- * L. ii., c. 1. sary for its motion ; and thus, when the animal spirits are put into movement, the soul is disturbed, though she does not even know that there are animal spirits in the body. 48. These remarks of Malebranche it is important to familiarize to our minds; and those who reflect upon them will neither fall into the gross materialism to which many physiologists appear prone, nor, on the other hand, out of fear of allowing too much to the bodily organs, reject any suf- ficient proof that may be adduced for the relation between the cerebral system and the intellectual processes. These opposite errors are by no means uncommon in the present age. But, without expressing an opinion on that peculiar hypothesis which is generally called phrenology, we might ask whether it is not quite as conceivable that a certain state of portions of the brain may be the antecedent condition of mem- ory or imagination, as that a certain state of nervous filaments may be, what we know it is, an invariable antecedent of sensation. In neither instance can there be any resemblance or proper representa- tion of the organic motion transferred to the soul ; nor ought we to employ, even in metaphor, the analogies of impulse or communication. But we have two phae- nomena, between which, by the constitu- tion of our human nature, and probably by that of the very lowest animals, there is a perpetual harmony and concomitance ; an ultimate fact, according to the present state of our faculties, which may in some senses be called mysterious, inasmuch as we can neither fully apprehend its final causes, nor all the conditions of its oper- ation, but one which seems not to in- volve any appearance of contradiction, and should, therefore, not lead us into the useless perplexity of seeking a solution that is almost evidently beyond our reach. 49. The association of ideas is far more extensively developed by Malebranche in this second book than by any of the old writers, not even, I think, with the ex- ception of Hobbes ; though he is too fond of mixing the pyschological facts which experience furnishes with his precarious, however plausible, theory of cerebral tra- ces. Many of his remarks are acute and valuable. Thus, he observes that writers who make use of many new terms in sci- ence, under the notion of being more in- telligible, are often not understood at all, whatever care they may take to define their words. We grant in theory their right to do this ; but nature resists. The new words, having no ideas previously associated with them, fall out of the read- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 313 er's mind, except in mathematics, where they can be rendered evident by diagrams. In all this part Malebranche expatiates on the excessive deference shown to author- ity, which, because it is great in religion, we suppose equally conclusive in philoso- phy, and on the waste of lime which mere reading of many books entails; experience, he says, having always shown that those who have studied most are the very per- sons who have led the world into the greatest errors. The whole of the chap- ters on this subject is worth perusal. 50. In another part of this second book Malebranche has opened a new and fertile vein, which he is far from having exhaust- ed, on what he calls the contagiousness of a powerful imagination. Minds of this character, he observes, rule those which are feebler in conception : they give them, by degrees, their own habit ; they impress their own type ; and, as men of strong imagination are themselves, for the most part, very unreasonable, their brains be- ing cut up, as it were, by deep traces, which leave no room for anything else, no source of human error is more dan- gerous than this contagiousness of their disorder. This he explains, in his fa- vourite physiology, by a certain natural sympathy between the cerebral fibres of different men, which, being wanting v in any one with whom we converse, it is vain to expect that he will enter into our views, and we must look for a more sym- pathetic tissue elsewhere. 51. The moral observations of Male- branche are worth more than these .hy- potheses with which they are mingled. Men of powerful imagination express themselves with force and vivacity, though not always in the most natural manner, and often with great animation of ges- ture ; they deal with subjects that excite sensible images, and from all this they acquire a great power of persuasion. This is exercised especially over persons in subordinate relations ; and thus chil- dren, servants, or courtiers adopt the opinions of their superiors. Even in re- ligion, nations have been found to take up the doctrines of their rulers, as has been seen in England. In certain authors, who influence our minds without any weight of argument, this despotism of a strong imagination is exercised, which he particularly illustrates by the examples of Tertullian, Seneca, and Montaigne. The contagious power of imagination is also manifest in the credulity of mankind as to apparitions and witchcraft ; and he observes that, where witches are burned, there is generally a great number of VOL. II. R R them, while, since some parliaments have ceased to punish for sorcery, the offence has diminished within their jurisdiction. 52. The application which these stri- king and original views will bear, spreads far into the regions of moral philosophy, in the largest sense of that word. It is needless to dwell upon, and idle to cavil at the physiological theories to which Malebranche has had recourse. False let them be, what is derived from the experi- ence of human nature will always be true. No one general phenomenon in the intercommunity of mankind with each other is more worthy to be remembered, or more evident to an observing eye, than this contagiousness, as Malebranche phra- ses it, of a powerful imagination, espe- cially when assisted by any circumstances that secure and augment its influence. The history of every popular delusion, and even the petty events of every day in private life, are witnesses to its power. 53. The third book is entitled, Of the Understanding or Pure Spirit (1'Esprit Pur). By the pure understanding he means the faculty of the soul to know the reality of certain things without the aid of images in the brain. And he warns the reader that the inquiry will be found dry and obscure. The essence of the soul, he says, following his Cartesian theory, consists in thinking, as that of matter does in extension ; will, imagination, memory, and the like, are modifications of thought or forms of the soul, as water, food, or fire are modifications of matter. This sort of expression has been adopted by our met- aphysicians of the Scots school in prefer- ence to the ideas of reflection, as these operations are called by Locke. But by the word thought (pensee) he does not mean these modifications, but the soul or thinking principle absolutely, capable of all these modifications, as extension is nei- ther round nor square, though capable of either form. The power of volition, and, by parity of reasoning, we may add, of thinking, is inseparable from the soul, but not the acts of volition or thinking them- selves ; as a body is always moveable, though it be not always in motion. 54. In this book it does not seem that Malebranche has been very successful in distinguishing the ideas of pure intellect from those which the senses or imagination present to us ; nor do we clearly sec what he means by the former, except those of existence and a few more. But he now hastens to his peculiar hypothesis as to the mode of perception. By ideas he un- derstands the immediate object of the soul, which all the world, he supposes, will 314 LITERATURE OF EUROPE agree not to be the same with the exter nal object of sense. Ideas are real exist ences ; for they have properties, and rep resent very different things ; but nothing can have no property. How, then, do they enter into the mind, or become pres ent to it ? Is it, as the Aristotelians hold by means of species transmitted from the external objects ] Or are they producec instantaneously by some faculty of the soul ! Or have they been created anc posited, as it were, in the soul when i began to exist 1 Or does God produce them in us whenever we think or per ceive ] Or does the soul contain in her self, in some transcendent manner, what- ever is in the sensible world 1 These hy- potheses of elder philosophers, some of which are not quite intelligibly distinc from each other, Malebranche having suc- cessively refuted, comes to what he con- siders the only possible alternative, name- ly, that the soul is united to an all-perfect Being, in whom all that belongs to hi creatures is contained. Besides the ex- clusion of every other supposition which by his sorites, he conceives himself to have given, he subjoins several direct ar- guments in favour of his own theory, but in general, so obscure and full of arbitrary assumption that they cannot be stated in this brief sketch.* 55. The mysticism of this eminent man displays itself throughout this part of hi treatise, but rarely leading him into that figurative and unmeaning language from which the inferior class of enthusiasts are never free. His philosophy, which has hitherto appeared so skeptical, assumes now the character of intense, irresistible conviction. The skepticism of Male- branche is merely ancillary to his mys- ticism. His philosophy, if we may use so quaint a description of it, is subjectivity leading objectivity in chains. He seems to triumph in his restoration of the inner man to his pristine greatness, by subdu- ing those false traitors and rebels, the nerves and brain, to whom, since the great lapse of Adam, his posterity had been in thrall. It has been justly remarked by Brown, that in the writings of Malebranche, as in all theological metaphysicians of the Catholic Church, we perceive the com- manding influence of Augustin.f From him rather than, in the first instance, from Plato or Plotinus, it may be suspected that Malebranche, who was not very learned * L. iii.,c. 6. t Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lecture xxx. Brown's own position, that " the idea is the mind," seems to me as paradoxical, in expression at least, as anything in Malebranche. in ancient philosophy, derived the mani- fest tinge of Platonism, that, mingling with his warm admiration of Descartes, has rendered him a link between two fa- mous systems not very harmonious in their spirit and turn oi reasoning. But his genius, more clear, or, at least, disci- plined in a more accurate logic than that of Augustin, taught him to dissent from that father by denying objective reality to eternal truths, such as that two and two are equal to four; descending thus one step from unintelligible mysticism. 56. " Let us repose," he concludes, " in this tenet, that God is the intelligible world or the place of spirits, like as the ma- terial world is the place of bodies ; that it is from his power they receive all their modifications ; that it is in his wisdom they find all their ideas ; and that it is by his love they feel all their well-regulated emotions. And since his power, and his wisdom, and his love are but himself, let us believe, with St. Paul, that he is not far from each of us, and that in him we live, and move, and have our being." But sometimes Malebranche does not content himself with these fine effusions of piety. His theism, as has often been the case with mystical writers, expands till it be- comes, as it were, dark with excessive light, and almost vanishes in its own efful- gence. He has passages that approach very closely to the pantheism of Jordano Bruno and Spinosa ; one especially, where- in he vindicates the Cartesian argument for a being of necessary existence in a strain which perhaps renders that argu- ment less incomprehensible, but certainly cannot be said, in any legitimate sense, to establish the existence of a Deity.* 57. It is from the effect which tke in- vention of so original and striking an hy- pothesis, and one that raises such magnifi- cent conceptions of the union between the Deity and the human soul, would produce on a man of an elevated and contemplative genius, that we must account for Male- aranche's forgetfulness of much that he las judiciously said in part of his treatise, on the limitation of our faculties, and the mperfect knowledge we can attain as to our intellectual nature. For, if we should admit that ideas are substances, and not accidents of the thinking spirit, it would Still be doubtful whether he has wholly numerated, or conclusively refuted, the )ossible hypotheses as to their existence n the mind. And his more direct reason- ngs labour under the same difficulty from he manifest incapacity of our understand- * L. iii., c. 8. FROM 1650 TO 1700. ings to do more than form conjectures and dim notions of what we can so im- perfectly bring before them. 58. The fourth and fifth books of the Recherche de la Verite treat of the natural inclinations and passions, and of the errors which spring from those sources. These books are various and discursive, and very characteristic of the author's mind ; abounding with a mystical theology, which extends to an absolute negation of second- ary causes, as well as with poignant satire on the follies of mankind. In every part of his treatise, but especially in these books, Malebranche pursues with unspa- ring ridicule two classes, the men of learn- ing and the men of the world. With Aristotle and the whole school of his disci- ples he has an inveterate quarrel, and omits no occasion of holding them forth to con- tempt. This seems to have been in a great measure warranted by their dogmatism, their bigotry, their pertinacious resistance to modern science, especially to the Car- tesian philosophy, which Malebranche in general followed. " Let them," he ex- claims, " prove, if they can, that Aristotle, or any of themselves, has deduced one truth in physical philosophy from any principle peculiar to himself, and we will promise never to speak of him but in eu- logy."* But, until this gauntlet should be taken up, he thought himself at liberty to use very different language. " The works of the Stagirite," he observes, " are so obscure and full of indefinite words, that we have a colour for ascribing to him the most opposite opinions. In fact, we make him say what we please, because he says very little, though with much parade ; just as children fancy bells to say anything, because they make a great noise, and, in reality, say nothing at all." 59. But' such philosophers are not the only class of the learned he depreciates. Those who pass their time in gazing through telescopes, and distribute provin- ces in the moon to their friends ; those who pore over worthless books, such as the Rabbinical and other Oriental writers, or compose folio volumes on the animals mentioned in Scripture, while they can hardly tell what are found in their own province; those who 'accumulate quota- tions to inform us, not of truth, but of what other men have taken for truth, are ex- posed to his sharp, but doubtless exag- gerated and unreasonable ridicule. Male- branche, like many men of genius, was much too intolerant of what might give pleasure to other men, and too narrow in * L. iv., c. 3. his measure of utility. He seems to think little valuable in human learning but met- aphysics and algebra.* From the learned he passes to the great ; and, after enumer- ating the circumstances which obstruct their perception of truth, comes to the blunt conclusion that men " much raised above the rest by rank, dignity, or wealth, or whose minds are occupied in gaining these advantages, are remarkably subject to error, and hardly capable of discerning any truths which lie a little out of the common way."f 60. The sixth and last book announces a method of directing our pursuit of truth, by which we may avoid the many errors to which our understandings are liable. It promises to give them all the perfection of which our nature is capable, by pre- scribing the rules we should invariably ob- serve. But it must, I think, be confessed, that there is less originality in this method than we might expect. We find, howev- er, many acute and useful, if not always novel, observations on the conduct of the understanding, and it may be reckoned among the books which would supply ma- terials for what is still wanting to philo- sophical literature, an ample and useful logic. We are so frequently inattentive, hp observes, especially to the pure ideas of the understanding, that all resources should be, employed to fix our thoughts. And for this purpose we may make use of the passions, the senses, or the imagi- nation, but the second with less danger than the first, and the third than the sec- ond. Geometrical figures he ranges un- der the aids supplied to the imagination rather than to the senses. He dwells much at length on the utility of geometry in fixing our attention, and of algebra in compressing and arranging our thoughts. All sciences, he well remarks, and I do not * His rather amusing to find that, while lament- ing the want of a review of books, he predicts that we shall never see one, on account of the prejudice of mankind in favour of authors. The prophecy was falsified almost at the time. On regarde ordi- nairement les auteurs comme des hommes rares et extraordinaires et heaucoup cloves au-dessus des autres; on les revere done au lieu de les mepriser et de les punir. Ainsi il n'y a gueres d'apparence qne les homines erigent jamais un tribunal pour ex- aminer et pour condamner tous les livres, qm ne font que corrompre la raison, c. 8. La plupart des livres de certains savans ne sont fab riques q\\'h coups de dictionnnires, et ils n'ont gueren lu que \vs tables des livres qu'ils client, ou quelques lieux communs, ramasses de differens auteurs. On n'oseroit entrer d'avantage dans le detail de ces choses, ni en donner des exemples, de peur de cno- quer des personnels aussi fieres et aussi bilieuses que sont ces faux savans ; car on ne prend pas plai- sir si se faire injurier en Grec et en Arab* t C.9. 316 LITERATURE OF EUROPE know that it had been said before, which treat of things distinguishable by more or less in quantity, and which consequently may be represented by extension, are ca- pable of illustration by diagrams. But these, he conceives, are inapplicable, to moral truths, though such consequences may be derived from them. Algebra, how- ever, is far more useful in improving the understanding than geometry, and is, in fact, with its sister arithmetic, the best means that we possess.* But as men like better to exercise the imagination than the pure intellect, geometry is the more fa- vourite study of the two. 61. Malebranche may perhaps be thought Character of to have occupied too much of Malebranche. our attention at the expense of more popular writers. But for this very reason, that the Recherche de la Verite is not at present much read, I have dwelt long on a treatise of so great celebrity in its own age, and which, even more, per- haps, than the metaphysical writings of Descartes, has influenced that department of philosophy. Malebranche never loses sight of the great principle of the soul's immateriality, even in his long and rather hypothetical disquisitions on the instru- mentality of the brain in acts of thought ; and his language is far less objectionable on this subject than that of succeeding philosophers. He is always consistent and clear in distinguishing the soul itself from its modifications and properties. He knew well and had deeply considered the application of mathematical and physical science to the philosophy of the human mind. He is very copious and diligent in * L. vi., c. 4. All conceptions of abstract ideas, he justly remarks in another place, are accompani- ed with some imagination, though we are often not aware of it: because these ideas have no natural images or traces associated with them, but such only as the will of man or chance has given. Thus in analysis, however general the ideas, we use let- ters and signs, always associated with the ideas of the things, though they are not really related, and for this reason do not give us false and confused notions. Hence, he thinks, the ideas of things which can only be perceived by the understanding, may become associated with the traces on the brain, 1. v., c. 2. This is evidently as applicable to lan- guage as it is to algebra. Cudworth has a somewhat similar remark in his Immutable Morality, that the cogitations we have of corporeal things are usually, in his technical style, both noematical and phantasmatical together, the one being, as it were, the soul, and the<*her the body of them. " Whenever we think of a phantas- matical universal or universalized phantasm, or a thing which we have no clear intellection of (as, for example, of the nature of arose in general), there is a complication of something noematical and eomething phantasmatical together ; for phantasms themselves, as well as sensations, are always indi- vidual things." P. 143. illustration, and very clear in definition. His principal errors, and the sources of them in his peculiar temperament, have appeared in the course of these pages. And to these we may add his maintaining some Cartesian paradoxes, such as the system of vortices, and the want of sen- sation in brutes. The latter he deduced from the immateriality of a thinking prin- ciple, supposing it incredible, though he owns it had been the tenet of Atigustin, that there could be an immaterial spirit in the lower animals, and also from the in- compatibility of any unmerited suffering with the justice of God.* Nor was Male- branche exempt from some prejudices of scholastic theology ; and, though he gen- erally took care to avoid its technical lan- guage, is content to repel the objection to his denial of all secondary causation from its making God the sole author of sin, by saying that sin, being a privation of right- eousness, is negative, and, consequently, requires no cause. 62. Malebranche bears a striking resem- blance to his great contempora- Compared ry Pascal, though they were not, wi "> Pascal. I believe, in any personal relation to each other, nor could either have availed him- self of the other's writings. Both of ar- dent minds, endowed with strong imagi- nation and lively wit, sarcastic, severe, fearless, disdainful of popular opinion and accredited reputations ; both imbued with the notion of a vast difference between the original and actual state of man, and thus solving many phenomena of his being; both, in different modes and degrees, skep- tical, and rigorous in the exaction of proof; both undervaluing all human knowledge beyond the regions of mathematics ; both of rigid strictness in morals, and a fervid, enthusiastic piety. But in Malebranche there is a less overpowering sense of re- ligion ; his eye roams unblenched in the light, before which that of Pascal had been veiled in awe ; he is sustained by a less timid desire of truth, by greater confidence in the inspirations that are breathed into his mind ; he is more quick in adopting a novel opinion, but less apt to embrace a sophism in defence of an old one ; he has less energy, but more copiousness and va- riety. 63. Arnauld, who, though at first in personal friendship with Male- ArnaU |,i on branche, held no friendship in true and a balance with his rigid love of false Klea '- * This he had borrowed from a maxim of Augus- tin : sub justo Deoquisquam nisi rnereatur, miseT esse non potest ; whence, it seerns, that father had inferred the imputation of original sin to infants: a happy mode of escaping the difficulty. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 317 truth, combated the chief points of the other's theory in a treatise oa true and false ideas. This work I have never had the good fortune to see ; it. appears to as- sail a leading principle of Malebranche, the separate existence of ideas, as objects in the mind independent and distinguish- able from the sensation itself. Arnauld maintained, as Reid and others have since done, that we do not perceive or feel ideas, but real objects, and thus led the way to a school which has been called that of Scotland, and has had a great popularity among our later metaphysicians. Jt would require a critical examination of his work, which I have not been able to make, to determine precisely what were the opin- ions of this philosopher.* 64. The peculiar hypothesis of Male- branche, that we see all things in God, was examined by Locke in a short piece, contained in the collection of his works. It will readily be conceived that two phi- losophers, one eminently mystical, and en- deavouring upon this highly transcendent- al theme to grasp in his mind and ex- press in his language something beyond the faculties of man, the other as charac- teristically averse to mystery, and slow to admit anything without proof, would have hardly any common ground even to fight upon. Locke, therefore, does little else than complain that he cannot understand what Malebranche has advanced ; and most of his readers will probably find them- selves in the same position. 65. He had, however, an English sup- porter of some celebrity in his own rns ' age, Norris ; a disciple, and one of the latest we have had, of the Platonic school of Henry More. The principal metaphysical treatise of Norris, his Es- say on the Ideal World, was published in two parts, 1701 and 1702. It does not, therefore, come within our limits. Nor- ris is more thoroughly Platonic than Mal- ebranche, to whom, however, he pays great deference, and adopts his fundament- al hypothesis on seeing all things in God. He is a writer of fine genius and a noble elevation of moral sentiments, such as predisposes men for the Platonic schemes of theosophy. He looked up to Augus- tin with as much veneration as to Plato, and respected, more, perhaps, than Male- branche, certainly more than the general- ity of English writers, the theological met- aphysicians of the schools. With these he mingled some visions of a later mysti- cism. But his reasonings will seldom bear a close scrutiny. Brucker. Buhle. Reid's Intellectual Powers. 66. In the Thoughts of Pascal we find many striking remarks on the logic of that science with which he was Pascal - peculiarly conversant, and upon the gen- eral foundations of certainty. He had re- flected deeply upon the skeptical objec- tions to all human reasoning ; and though sometimes, out of a desire to elevate reli- gious faith at its expense, he seems to consider them unanswerable, he was too clear-headed to believe them just. " Rea- son," he says, " confounds the dogmatists, and nature the skeptics."* ' We have an incapacity of demonstration which one cannot overcome ; we have a conception of truth which the others cannot disturb."! He throws out a notion of a more com- plete method of reasoning than that of geometry, wherein everything shall be demonstrated, which, however, he holds to be unattainable ;| and perhaps on this account he might think the cavils of pyr- rhonism invincible by pure reason. But as he afterward admits that we may have a full certainty of propositions that cannot be demonstrated, such as the infinity of number and space, and that such incapa- bility of direct proof is rather a perfection than a defect, this notion of a greater com- pleteness in evidence seems neither clear nor consistent, fy 67. Geometry, Pascal observes, is al- most the only subject as to which we find truths wherein all men agree. And one cause of this is that geometers alone regard the true laws of demonstration. These, as enumerated by him, are eight in number. 1. To define nothing which can- not be expressed in clearer terms than those in which it is already expressed. 2. To leave no obscure or equivocal terms undefined. 3. To employ in the definition no termk not already known. 4. To omit nothing in the principles from which we argue unless we are sure it is granted. 5. To lay down no axiom which is not per- fectly evident. 6. To demonstrate no- thing which is as clear already as we can make it. 7. To prove everything in the least doubtful, by means of self-evident axioms, or of propositions already demon- strated. 8. To substitute mentally the * (Euvres cle Pascal, vol. i., p. 205. II faut que chacun prenne parti, et si; range ndcessairement ou au dogmatisme, ou au pyrrhonisme ; car qui pense- roil demeurer neutre seroit pyrrhonien par excel- lence ; cette neutralite est 1'essence du pyrrhonis- me, p. 204. 1 do not know that I understand this; is it not either a self-evident proposition or a soph- ism ? t P. 208. J Pensees de Pascal, part i., art 2. Comme la cause qui les rend incapables de demonstration n'est pas leu: obsouri'e, mais au con- traire leur extreme evidence, cc manque de preuve n'est pas un defaut, mais plu*6: une perfection. 318 LITERATURE OF EUROPE definition instead of the thing defined. Of these rules, he says, the first, fourth, and sixth are not absolutely necessary in or- der to avoid error, but the other five are indispensable. Yet, though they may be found in books of logic, none but the ge- ometers have paid any regard to them. The authors of these books seem not to have entered into the spirit of their own precepts. All other rules than those he has given are useless or mischievous ; they contain, he says, the whole art of demonstration.* 68. The reverence of Pascal, like that of Malebranche, for what is established in religion, does not extend to philosophy. We do not find in them, as we may some- times perceive in the present day. all sorts of prejudices against the liberties of the human mind clustering together, like a herd of bats, by an instinctive associa- tion. He has the same idea as Bacon, that the ancients were properly the chil- dren among mankind. Not only each man, he says, advances daily in science, but all men collectively make a constant progress, so that all generations of man- kind during so many ages may be consid- ered as one man, always subsisting and always learning ; and the old age of this universal man is not to be sought in the period next to his birth, but in that which is most removed from it. Those we call ancients were truly novices in all things ; and we, who have added to all they knew the experience of so many succeeding ages, have a better claim to that antiquity which we revere in them. In this, with much ingenuity and much truth, there is a certain mixture of fallacy, which I shall not wait to point out. 69. The genius of Pascal was admirably fitted for acute observation on the consti- tution of human nature, if he had not seen everything through a refracting medium of religious prejudice. When this does not interfere to bias his judgment, he abounds with fine remarks, though always a little tending towards severity. One of the most useful and original is the following : " When we would show any one that he is mistaken, our best course is to observe on what side he considers the subject, for his view of it is generally right on this side, and admit to him that he is right so far. He will be satisfied, with this ac- knowledgment, that he was not wrong in his judgment, but only inadvertent in not looking at the whole of the case. For we are less ashamed of not having seen the whole than of being deceived in what we * CEuvres de Pascal, i., 66. do see ; and this may perhaps arise from an impossibility of the understanding's being deceived in what it does see, just as the perceptions of the senses, as such, must be always true."* 70. The Cartesian philosophy has been supposed to have produced a met- spinosa's aphysician very divergent in most ethics. of his theory from that school, Benedict Spinosa. No treatise is written in a more rigidly geometrical method than his Ethics. It rests on definitions and ax- ioms, from which the propositions are de- rived in close, brief, and usually perspic- uous demonstrations. The few explana- tions he has thought necessary are con- tained in scholia. Thus a fabric is erect- ed, astonishing and bewildering in its entire effect, yet so regularly constructed that the reader must pause and return on his steps to discover an error in the work- manship, while he cannot also but ac- knowledge the good faith and intimate persuasion of having attained the truth, which the acute and deep-reflecting au- thor everywhere displays. 71. Spinosa was born in 1632 ; we find, by his correspondence with Ol- n s general denburg in 1661, that he had al- originality, ready developed his entire scheme, and in that with De Vries in 1663, the proposi- tions of the Ethics are alluded to numeri- cally, as we now read them.f It was, therefore, the fmit of early meditation, as its fearlessness, its general disregard of the slow process of observation, its un- hesitating dogmatism, might lead us to expect. In what degree he had availed himself of prior writers is not evident ; with Descartes and Lord Bacon he was familiar, and from the former he had de- rived some leading tenets ; but he ob- serves both in him and Bacon what he calls mistakes as to the first cause and origin of things, their ignorance of the real nature of the human mind, and of the true sources of error.| The pantheistic theory of Jordano Bruno is not very re- mote from that of Spinosa ; but the rhap- sodies of the Italian, who seldom aims at proof, can hardly have supplied much to the subtle mind of the Jew of Amsterdam. Buhle has given us an exposition of the Spinosistic theory.^ But several propo- * Id., p. 149. Though Pascal here says that the perceptions of the senses are always true, we find the contrary asserted in other passages ; he is not uniformly consistent with himself. t Spinosx Opera Posthuma, p. 398, 460. J Cartes et Bacon tam longe a cognitions prima causa? et origrinis omnium rerum aberrarunt. . . . Veram naturam humanae mentis non cognoverunt . . . veram causam erroris nunquam operati sunt. Hist de la Philosophic, vol. iii., p. 440. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 319 sitions in this I do not find in the author, and Buhle has at least, without any ne- cessity, entirely deviated from the ar- rangement he found in the Ethics. This seems as unreasonable in a work so rigor- ously systematic s.s it would be in the el- ements of Euclid and I believe the fol- lowing pages will prove more faithful to the text. But it is no easy task to trans- late and abridge a writer of such extraor- dinary conciseness as well as subtlety ; nor is it probable that my attempt will be intelligible to those who have not habitua- ted themselves to metaphysical inquiry. 72. The first book or part of the Ethics view of his is entitled Concerning God, and metaphysi- contains the entire theory of ory - Spinosa. It may even be said that this is found in a few of the first propositions ; which being granted, the rest could not easily be denied ; present- ing, as it does, little more than new as- pects of the former, or evident deductions from them. Upon eight definitions and seven axioms reposes this philosophical superstructure. A substance, by the third definition, is that, the conception of which does not require the conception of any- thing else as antecedent to it.* The at- tribute of a substance is whatever the mind perceives to constitute its essence. f The mode of a substance is its accident or affection, by means of which it is con- ceived. In the sixth definition he says : I understand by the name of God a being absolutely infinite ; that is, a substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses an eternal and infinite essence. Whatever expresses an essence, and involves no contradiction, may be predicated of an absolutely infinite being. $ The most important of the axioms are the following : From a given determinate cause the effect necessarily follows ; but if there be no determinate cause, no effect can follow. The knowledge of an effect ds- * Per substantiam intelligo id quod in se est, et per se concipitur; hoc est, id cujus conceptus non indiget conceptu alterius rei, a quo formari debeat. The last words are omitted by Spinosa in a letter to De Vries (p. 463), where he repeals this defini- tion. t Per attributnm intelligo id quod intellectus de subsiantia percipit, tanquam ejusdem essentiam constituens. t Per modnm intelligo substantiae affectiones, sive id, quod in alio est, per quod etiam concipitur. (f Per Deum intelligo Ens absolute infinitum, hoc pst, substantiam constantem infinitis attributis, quo- rum unumquodque seternam et infinitam essentiam exprhnit. Dico absoluti infinitum, non autem in suo genere ; quicquid er.im in suo genere tantum infinitum est, infinita de eo attributa negare possu- raus ; quod autem absoluti infinitum est, ad ejus essentiam pertinet, quicquid cssontiain exprimit et negationem nullam involvit. pends upon the knowledge of the cause, and includes it. Things that have no- thing in common with each other cannot be understood by means of each other; that is, the conception of one does not in- clude that of the other. A true idea must agree with its object.* 73. Spinosa proceeds to his demonstra- tions upon the basis of these assumptions alone. Two substances, having different attributes, have nothing in common with each other ; and hence one cannot be the cause of the other, since one may be con- ceived without involving the conception of the other ; but an effect cannot be con- ceived without involving the knowledge of the cause. f It seems to be in this fourth axiom, and in the proposition grounded upon it, that the fundamental fallacy lurks. The relation between a cause and effect is surely something dif- ferent from our perfect comprehension of it, or, indeed, from our having any knowl- edge of it at all ; much less can the con- trary assertion be deemed axiomatic. But if we should concede this postulate, it might, perhaps, be very difficult to resist the subsequent proofs, so ingeniously and with such geometrical rigour are they ar- ranged. 74. Two or more things cannot be dis- tinguished, except by the diversity of their attributes or by that of their modes. Fyr there is nothing out of ourselves except substances and their modes. But there cannot be two substances of the sa'ne at- tribute, since there would be no me'xna of distinguishing them except their nwd: in which the being of a God can be intelli- gibly stated. * Statuo dari innatura potentiam inlinitam eogi- landi quae quatenus infmita in se continet tot.am naturain objective, et cujus cogitationes piv eodem modo ac natura, ejus nimirum edictuin, p. 411. In another place he says, perhaps al expense of his usual candour. Agnosco interim, id quod summam mihi prxbet satisfactionem ft tranquillitatem, cuncta potentia Entis sunn- fecti et ejus immutabili ita lien decreto, p. 498. What follows is in the same strain. Hut Spinosn had wrought himself up, like Bruno, to a mystic, ii personification of his infinite unity. t Singulares cogitationes, sive hsec et ilia cogita- tio, modi surit. qui Uei naturam certo et ilcn nnni i- to modo expriuiiint. Competit ergo Dei aitnbu- tnm, cujus conceptum singulares omiips couita- tiones irivolvunt.per quod etiam concipiuntur. Kst igitur cogitatio maun ex infinitis Dei attributis quod Dei seternain et infiuitam essentiam etprimit, sive Deus est res cogitaus. VOL. II. S s 80. The second book of the Ethics be- gins, like the first, with definitions and axioms. Body he defines to be a certain and determinate mode expressing the es- sence of God, considered as extended. The essence of anything he defines to be that according to the affirmation or nega- tion of which the thing exists, or other- wise. An idea is a conception which the mind forms as a thinking being. And he prefers to say conception than perception, because tin: latter seems to imply the presence of an object. In the third axiom he says : .Modes of thinking, such as love, desire, or whatever name we may give to i he. affections of the mind, cannot exist without an idea of their object, but an idea miry exist with no other mode of thinking.* And in the fifth: ^Y<' per- ceive no singular things besides bodies and modes of thinking; thus distinguish- ing, like Locke, between ideas of sensa- tion and of reflection. 81. Extension, by the second proposi- tion, is an attribute of God as well as thought. As it follows, from the infinite extension of God, that all bodies are por- tions of his substance, inasmuch as they cannot be conceived without it, so all par- ticular acts of intelligence are portions of God's infinite intelligence, and thus all things are in him. Man is not a sub- stance, but something vv'iich is in God, and cannot be conceived without him ; that is, an affection or mode of the divine substance expressing its nature in a deter- minate manner.! The human mind is not a substance, but an idea constitutes its actual being, and it must be the idea of an existing thing. J In this he plainly loses sight of the percipient in the perception; but it was the inevitable result of the fun- damental sophisms of Spinosa to annihi- late personal consciousness. The human mind, he afterward asserts, is part of the infinite intellect of God; and when we say, the mind perceives this or that, it is oirly that God, not as infinite, but so far as he constitutes the essence of the hu- man mind, has such or such idea;>.$ 82. The object of the human mind is body actually existing.|| He proceeds to * Modi cogitandi, ut ntuor, cupiditas, vrl quonm- que nomine a fleet us animi insisuiuniiir, non dantur nisi in eodem individuo drtnr iden r< i amata . eratae, &c. At idea dari potest.quamvis nullns alius detur cogUandi modus. M'r<>;t x. } Quod actuate nvntis bun uihil aliud est quarn id;' i n neularis actu ntis. This is ;HI ::Mtirip;tti<>N "f what we find in Hume's Trcatix- on Human Nature, the nega- tion of a substance, or Kgo, to which paradox no .it a professed metaphysician. $ Prop, xi., corolL II Prop. xiii. 322 LITERATURE OF EUROPE explain the connexion of the human, body with the mind, and the association of ideas. But in all this, advancing always syntheti- cally and by demonstration, he becomes frequently obscure, if not sophistical. The idea of the human mind is in God, and is united to the mind itself in the same man- ner as the latter is to the body.* The ob- scurity and subtlety of this proposition are not relieved by the demonstration ; but in some of these passages we may observe a singular approximation to the theory of Malebranche. Both, though with very dif- ferent tenets on the highest subjects, had been trained in the same school ; and if Spinosa had brought himself to acknowl- edge the personal distinctness of the Su- preme Being from his intelligent cfeation, he might have passed for one of those mys- tical theosophists who were not averse to an objective pantheism. 83. The mind does not know itself, ex- cept so far as it receives ideas of the af- fections of the body.f But these ideas of sensation do not give an adequate knowl- edge of an external body, nor of the human body itself. J The mind, therefore, has but an inadequate and confused knowledge of anything, so long as it judges only by for- tuitous perceptions ; but may attain one clear and distinct by internal reflection and comparison. No positive idea can be called false ; for there can be no such idea without God, and all ideas in God are true, that is, correspond with their object. j| Fal- sity, therefore, consists in that privation of truth which arises from inadequate ideas. An adequate idea he has defined to be one which contains no incompatibil- ity, without regard to the reality of its supposed correlative object. 84. All bodies agree in some things, or have something in common : of these, all men have adequate ideas ;^[ and this is the origin of what are called common notions, which all men possess ; as, extension, du- ration, number. But to explain the nature of universals, Spinosa observes, that the human body can only form, at the same time, a certain number of distinct images; if this number be exceeded, they become confused ; and as the mind perceives dis- tinctly just so many images as can be formed in the body, when these are con- fused, the mind will also perceive them confusedly, and will comprehend them un- * Mentis humans datur etiam in Deo idea, sive rognitio, quae in Deo eodem modo sequitur, et ad Deum eodem modo refertur, ac idea sive cognitio corporis humani. Prop. xx. Haec mentis idea eo- dem modo unita est menti, ac ipsa mens unita est corpori. A Prop, xxiii. J Prop. xxv. ;'om- etry we do not reason from the proper- ties of the image, but from those of a fig- ure which the understanding appreh Locke, however, who generally preferred a popular meaning to one more metaphys- ically exact, thought it enough to call this a confused idea. Ho was not, I believe, conversant with any but elementary ge- ometry. Had he reflected upon that which in his age had made such a won- derful beginning, or even upon the funda- mental principles of it, which might be found in Euclid, the theory of infinitesi- mal quantities, he must, one wonH sup- pose, have been more puzzled to apply his narrow definition of an idea. For what image can we form of a differential, which can pretend to represent it in any other 330 LITERATURE OF EUROPE sense than as d x represents it, by sug- gestion, not by resemblance * 111). The case is, however, much worse when Locke deviates, as in the third and fourtli books he constantly does, from this sense that he has put on the word idea, | and takes it either in the Cartesian mean- ing, or in one still more general and pop- ular. Thus, in the excellent chapter on the abuse of words, he insists upon the advantage of using none without clear and distinct ideas; he who does not this "only making a noise without any sense or sig- nification." If we combine this position with that in the second book, that we have no clear and distinct idea of a figure with 1000 sides, it follows, with all the force of syllogism, that we should not ar- gue about a figure of 1000 sides at all, nor, by parity of reason, about many other things of far higher importance. It will be found, I incline to think, that the large use of the word idea for that about which we have some knowledge, without limit- ing it to what can be imagined, pervades the third and fourth bocks. Stewart has ingeniously conjectured that they were written before the second, and probably before the mind of Locke had been much turned to the psychological analysis which that contains. It is, however, certain, that in the Treatise upon the Conduct of the Understanding, which was not published till after the Essay, he uses the word idea with full as much latitude as in the third and fourth books of the latter. We can- not, upon the whole, help admitting that the story of a lady who, after the perusal of the Essay on the Human Understand- ing, laid it down with a remark that the book would be perfectly charming were it not for the frequent recurrence of one very hard word, idea, though told, possi- bly, in ridicule of the fair philosopher, pretty well represents the state of mind in which many at first have found them- selves. 111. Locke, as I have just intimated, An error as seems to have possessed but a v. togeomet- slight knowledge of geometry; ricai figure. a sc i ence w hich, both from the clearness of the illustrations it affords, and from its admitted efficacy in rendering the logical powers acute and cautious, may be reckoned, without excepting physiology, the most valuable of all to the metaphysi- cian. But it did not require any geomet- rical knowledge, strictly so called, to avoid one material error into which he has fall- en ; and which I mention the rather, be- cause even Descartes, in one place, has said something of the same kind, and I have met with it not only in Norris very distinctly and positively, but, more or less in many or most of those who have treat ed of the metaphysics or abstract princi- ples of geometry. " I doubt not," says Locke,* " but it will be easily granted that the knowledge we have of mathematical truths is not only certain, but real knowl- edge, and not the bare, empty vision of vain, insignificant chimeras of the brain ; and yet. if we well consider, we shall find that it is only of our own ideas. The mathematician considers the truth and properties belonging to a rectangle or cir- cle only as they are in idea in his own mind ; for it is possible he never found either of them existing mathematically, that is, precisely true, in his life All the discourses of the mathematicians about the squaring of a circle, conic sec- tions, or any other part of mathematics, concern not the existence of any of those figures ; but their demonstrations, which depend on their ideas, are the same, whether there be any square or circle in the world or no." And the inference he draws from this is, that moral as well as mathematical ideas being archetypes themselves, and so adequate and com- plete ideas, all the agreement or disagree- ment which he shall find in them will produce real knowledge, as well as in mathematical figures. 112. It is not, perhaps, necessary to in- quire how far, upon the hypothesis of Berkeley, this notion of mathematical fig- ures, as mere creations of the mind, could be sustained. But, on the supposition of the objectivity of space, as truly existing without us, which Locke undoubtedly be- lieved, it is certain that the passage just quoted is entirely erroneous, and that it involves a confusion between the geomet- rical figure itself and its delineation to the eye. A geometrical figure is a portion of space contained in boundaries determined by given relations. It exists in the in- finite round about us, as the statue exists in the block. f No one can doubt, if he turns his mind to the subject, that every point in space is equidistant, in all direc- tions, from certain other points. Draw a line through all these, and you have the * B iv., c. 8. f- Michael Angelo has well conveyed this idea in four lines, which I quote from Corniani. IS T on ha 1' ottimo artista alcun concetto, Che un marmo solo in se non circonscriva Col suo soverchio, e solo a quello arriva La mano che ohbedisce all' mtelletto. The geometer uses not the same obedient hand, but he equally feels and perceives the reality of that figure which the broad infinite around him compra hends con suo soverchio. FHOM 1650 TO 1700. 331 ^ircumference of a circle ; but the circle itself and its circu nfercuce exist before the latter is delineated. The orbit of a planet is not a regular geometrical figure, because certain forces disturb it. But this disturbance means only a deviation from a line which exists really in space, and which the planet would actually describe if there were nothing in the universe but itself and the centre of attraction. The expression, therefore, of Locke, " whether there be any square or circle existing in the world or no," is highly inaccurate, the latter alternative being an absurdity. All possible figures, and that " in number numberless," exist everywhere ; nor can we evade the perplexities into which the geometry of iniinites throws our imagina- tion by considering them as mere beings of reason, the creatures of the geometer, which I believe some are half disposed to do, nor by substituting the vague and un- philosophical notion of indefinitude for a positive objective infinity. 113. This distinction between ideas of mere sensation and those of intellection, between what the mind comprehends, and what it conceives without comprehending, is the point of divergence between the two sects of psychology which still exist in the world. Nothing is in the intellect which has not before been in the sense, said the Aristotelian schoolmen. Every idea has Us original in the senses, repeated the disciple of Epicurus, Gassendi. Locke indeed, as Gassendi had done before him. assigned another origin to one class of ideas ; but these were few in number, and in the next century two writers of consid- erable influence, Hartley and Condillac, overthrown. The opposite philosophy to that which never rises above sensiblu im- ages is exposed to a danger of its own; it is one which the infirmity of the human faculties renders perpetually at hand ; few there are who, in reasoning on subjects where we cannot attain what Locke has called " positive comprehensive ideas," are secure from falling into mere nonsense and repugnancy. In that part of physics which is simply conversant with quantity, this danger is probably not great; but in all such inquiries as are sometimes called transcendental, it has perpetually ship- wrecked the adventurous navigator. 111. In the language, and probably the notions of Locke as to the 11.1- iis:ioiipns ture of the soul, there is an in- as'otiiesoui distinctness more worthy of the Aristote- lian schoolmen than of one conversant with the Cartesian philosophy. " Bodies," he says, " manifestly produce ideas in us by impulse, the only way which we can conceive bodies to operate in. If, then, ex- ternal objects be not united to our minds when they produce ideas in it, and yet we perceive these original qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence continued by our nerves or animal spirits, by some parts of our bodies to the brain or the seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since the exten- sion, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable bigness may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes, and thereby onvey to the brain some motion which attempted to resolve them all into sensa- produces those ideas which we have of tion. The Cartesian school, a name rath- them in us." lie so far retracts his first er used for brevity, as a short denomina- tion of all who, like Cudworth, held the same tenets as to tha nature of ideas, lost ground both in France and England ; nor had Leibnitz, who was deemed an enemy to some of our great English names, suf- ficient weight to restore it. In the lian.ls of some who followed in both countries, the worst phrases of Locke were prefer- red to the best ; whatever could be turned to the account of pyrrhonism, material- ism, or atheism, made a figure in the Epi- curean system of a popular philosophy. The, names alluded to will suggest them- selves to the reader. The German meta- physicians from the time of Kant deserve at least the credit of having successfully withstood this coarse sensualism, though they may have borrowed much that their disciples take for original, and added much that is hardly better than what they have position afterward, as to admit, " in con- sequence of what Mr. Newton has shown in the Principiaon the gravitation of mat- ter towards matter," that God not only can put into bodies powers and ways of operation above what can be explained from what we know of matter, but that he has actually done so. And he promises to correct the former passage, which, how- ever, he has never performed. In fact, he seems, by the use of phrases which recur too often to be thought merely figurative, to have supposed that some tiling in the brain comes into local contact with the mind. He was here unable to divest him- self, any more 'than the schoolmen had done, of the notion that there is a proper action of the body on the soul in percep- tion. The Cartesians had brought in the theory of occasional causes and other so- lutions of the phenomena, so as to avoid 332 LITERATURE OF EUROPE what seems so irreconcilable with an im- material principle. No one is so lavish of a cerebral instrumentality in mental im- still." Few, perhaps, at present, who be- lieve in the immau-naiiiy of the human soul, would deny the same to an elephant ; ages as Malebranche : he seems at every jbut it must be owned that the discoveries moment on the verge of materialism ; he coquets, as it were, with an Epicurean physiology ; but if I may be allowed to continue the metaphor, he perceives the of zoology have pushed this to conse- quences which some might not readily adopt. The spiritual being of a sponge revolts a little our prejudices ; yet there is moment where to stop, and retires, like a ! no resting-place, and we must admit this, dexterous fair one, with unsrnirched hon- : or be content to sink ourselves into a mass our to his immateriality. It cannot be said that Locke is equally successful. 115. In another and a well-known pas- of medullary fibre. Brutes have been as slowly emancipated in philosophy as some classes of mankind have been in civil pol- and its im sage, he has thrown out a doubt j ity ; their souls, we see, were almost uni- maieriainy. w hether God might not superadd i versally disputed to them at the end of the faculty of thinking to matter ; and the seventeenth century, even by those though he thinks it probable that this has who did not absolutely bring them down not been the case, leaves it at last a de- j to machinery. Even within the recollec- batable question, wherein nothing else tion of many, it was common to deny them than presumptions are to be had. Yet he any kind of reasoning faculty, and to solve has strongly argued against the possibility j their most sagacious actions by the vague of a material Deity upon reasons derived ! word instinct. \Ve have come, of late from the nature of matter. Locke almost years, to think better of our humble corn- appears to have taken the union of a think- panions ; and, as usual in similar cases, ing being with matter for the thinking of i the predominant bias seems rather too matter itself. What is there, Stillingfleet well asks, like self-consciousness in mat- much of a levelling character. 117. No quality more remarkably dis- ter 1 " Nothing at all," Locke replies, tinguishes Locke than his love in s love of " in matter as matter. But that God can- I of truth. He is of no sect or par- truth ami not bestow on some parcels of matter a ty ; has no oblique design, such or 'S' nt power of thinking, and with it self-con- I as we so frequently perceive, of sustain- sciousness, will never be proved by asking how it is possible to apprehend that mere body should perceive that it doth per- ceive." But if that we call mind, and of which we are self-conscious, were thus superadded to matter, would it the less be something real ? In what sense can it be compared to an accident or quality? It has been justly observed, that we are much more certain of the independent ex- istence of mind than of that of matter. But that, by the constitution of nature, a definite organization, or what will be gen- erally thought the preferable hypothesis, an organic molecule, should be a neces- sary concomitant of this immaterial prin- ciple, does not involve any absurdity at all, whatever want of evidence may be ob- jected to it. 116. It is remarkable, that in the contro- versy with Stillingfieet on this passage, Locke seems to take for granted that there is no immaterial principle in brutes : and as he had too much plain sense to adopt the Cartesian theory of their insensibility, he draws the most, plausible argument for the possibility of thought in matter by the admitted fact of sensation and voluntary motion in these animal organizations. " It is not doubted but that the properties of a rose, a peach, or an elephant super- added to matter is in these things matter ing some tenet which he suppresses ; no submissiveness to the opinions of others, nor, what very few lay aside, to his own. Without having adopted certain dominant ideas, like Descartes and Malebranche. he follows, with inflexible impartiality and un- wearied patience, the long process of anal- ysis to which he has subjected the human mind. No great writer has been more exempt from vanity, in which he is very advantageously contrasted with Bacon and Descartes ; but he is sometimes a lit- tle sharp and contemptuous of his prede- cessors. The origiifality of Locke is real and unaffected ; not that he has derived nothing from others, which would be a great reproach to himself or to them, but, in whatever he has in common with other philosophers, there is always a tinge of his own thoughts, a modification of the particular talent, or, at least, a peculiarity of language which renders it not very easy of detection. " It was not to be expect- ed," says Stewart, " that in a work so composed by snatches, to borrow a phrase of the author, he should be able accurately to draw the line between his own ideas and the hints for which he was indebted to others. To those who are well ac- quainted with his speculations, it must ap- pear evident that he had studied diligently the metaphysical writings both of Hobbes FROM 1650 TO 1700. 333 and Gassendi, and that he was no stranger to the Essays of Montaigne, to the philo- sophical works of Bacon, and to Male- branche's Inquiry after Truth. That he ' was familiarly conversant witli the Car- tesian system may be presumed from what we are told by his biographer, that it was this which first inspired him with a disgust at the jargon of the schools, and led him into that train of thinking which he afterward prosecuted so successfully. I do not, however, recollect that he has anywhere in his Essay mentioned the name of any one of those authors. It is probable that when he sat down to write, he found the result of his youthful reading so completely identified with the fruits of his subsequent reflections, that it was im- possible for him to attempt a separation of the one from the other, and that he was thus occasionally led to mistake the treas- ures of memory for those of invention. That this was really the case may be far- ther presumed from the peculiar and ori- ginal cast of his phraseology, which, though in general careless and unpolish- ed, has always the merit of that charac- teristical unity' and raciness of style, which demonstrate that while he was writing he conceived himself to be drawing only from his own resources."* 118. The writer, however, whom we Defended in have just quoted has not quite two eases. d one justice to the originality of Locke in more than one instance. Thus on this very passage we find a note in these words : " Mr. Addison has remark- ed that Malebranche had the start of Locke by several years in his notions on the subject of duration. Some other coin- cidences not less remarkable might be easily pointed out in the opinions of the English and of the French philosopher." I am not prepared to dispute, nor do I doubt the truth of the latter sentence. But with respect to the notions of Malebranche and Locke on duration, it must be said that they are neither the same, nor has Addi- son asserted them to be so.f The one threw out an hypothesis with no attempt at proof; the other offered an explanation of the phenomena. What Locke lias ad- vanced as to our getting the idea of dura- tion by reflecting on the succession of our ideas seems to be truly his own. Wheth- er it be entirely the right explanation is another question. It rather appears to me that the internal sense, as we may not improperly call it, of duration belongs sep- arately to each idea, and is rather lost than * Preliminary Dissertation, t Spectator, No. 94. suggested by their succession. Duration is best perceived when we are able to de- tain an idea for some time without change, as in watching the motion of a pendulum. And though it is impossible for the mind to continue in this state of immobility more, perhaps, than about a second or two, this is sufficient to give us an idea of du- ration as the necessary condition of ex- istence. Whether this be an objective or merely a subjective necessity, is an ab- struse question, which our sensations do not decide. But Locke appears to have looked rather at the measure of duration, by which \ve divide it into portions, than at the mere simplicity of the idea itself. Such a measure, it is certain, can only be obtained through the medium of a su sion in our ideas. 119. It has been also remarked by Stew- art, that Locke claims a discovery rather due to Descartes, namely, the impossi- bility of defining simple ideas. Descartes. however, as well as the authors of the Port- Royal Logic, merely says that words already as clear as we can make them do not require, or even admit of definition. But I do not perceive that he has made the distinction we find in the Essay on the Human Understanding, that the names of simple ideas are not capable of any defi- nition, while the names of all complex ideas are so. "It has not, that I know,'' Locke says, "been observed by anybody what words are and what are not capa- ble of being defined." The passage 1 have quoted in another place (page !)9), from Descartes's posthumous dialogue, even if it went to this length, was unknown to Locke; yet he might have acknowl that he had been in some measure antici- pated in other observations by that phi- losopher. 120. The first book of the Essay on the Human Understanding is direct- jii s view r ed. as is well known, against the '"""< Wcw- doctrine of innate ideas, or innate princi- ples in the mind. This has been often censured, as combating in some places a tenet which no one would support, and as, in other passages, breaking in upon moral distinctions themselves, by disputing th;> universality of their acknowledgment. With respect to the former chaivrc, it is not, perhaps, easy for usto determine what might be the crude and confused notions, or, at least, language of many who held the theory of inmife ideas. It is by no means evident that Locke had Descartes chiefly or even at all in view. I/ ml Her- bert, "whom he distinctly answers, and many others, especially the Platonists, had dwelt upon innate ideas in far stronger 331 LITERATURE OF EUROPE terms than the great French metaphy- sician, if, indeed, he can be said to have maintained them at all. The latter and more important accusation rests upon no other pretext than that Locke must be reckoned among those who have not ad- mitted a moral faculty of discovering right from wrong to be a part of our constitu- tion. But that there is a law of nature imposed by the Supreme Being, and con- sequently universal, has been so repeated- ly asserted in his writings, that it would imply great inattention to question it. Stewart lias justly vindicated Locke in this respect from some hasty and indefinite charges of Beattie ; but I must venture to think that he goes much too far when he attempts to identify the doctrines of the Essay with those of Shaftesbury. These two philosophers were in opposite schools as to the test of moral sentiments. Locke seems always to adopt what is called the selfish system in morals, resolving all morality into religion, and all religion into a regard to our own interest. And he seems to have paid less attention to the emotions than to the intellectual powers of the soul. 121. I; would by no means be difficult General to controvert other tenets of this praise great man. But the obligations we owe to him for the Essay on the Human Understanding are never to be forgotten. It is truly the first real chart of the coasts ; wherein some may be laid down incor- rectly, but the general relations of all are perceived. And we, who find some things to censure in Locke, have perhaps learned how to censure them from himself; we have thrown off so many false notions and films of prejudice by his help, that we are become capable of judging our master. This is what has been the fate of all who have pushed onward the landmarksof science ; they have made that easy for in- ferior men which was painfully laboured through by themselves. Among many ex- cellent things in the Essay on Human Understanding, none are more admirable than the whole third book on the nature of words, especially the three chapters on their imperfection and abuse. In earlier treatises of logic, at least in that of Port- Royal, some of this might be found ; but nowhere are verbal fallacies, and, above all, the sources from which they spring, so fully and conclusively exposed. 122. The same praiseworthy diligence Locke's con- in hunting error to its lurking- duct of Un- places distinguishes the short derstanding. treatise on the Conduct of the Understanding; which, having been origin- ally designed as an additional chapter to the Essay,* is, as it were, the ethical ap- plication of its theory, and ought always to be read with it, if, indeed, for the sake of its practical utility, it should not come sooner into the course of education. Aris- totle himself, and the whole of his dialec- tical school, had pointed out many of the sophisms against which we should guard our reasoning faculties ; but these are chicfiy such as others attempt to put upon us in dispute. There are more dangerous fallacies by which we cheat ourselves : prejudice, partiality, self-interest, vani- ty, inattention, and indifference to truth. Locke, who was as exempt from these as almost any man who has turned his mind to so many subjects where their influ- ence is to be suspected, has dwelt on the moral discipline of the intellect in this treatise better, as I conceive, than any of his predecessors, though we have already seen, and it might appear far more at length to those who should have recourse to the books, that Arnauld and Male- branche, besides other French philoso- phers of the age, had not been remiss in this indispensable part of logic. 1-23. Locke throughout this treatise la- bours to secure the honest inquirer from that previous persuasion of his own opin- ion, which generally renders all his pre- tended investigations of its truth little more than illusive and nugatory. But the indifferency he recommends to every- thing except truth itself, so that we should not even wish anything to be true before we have examined whether it be so, seems to involve the impossible hypothesis that man is but a purely reasoning being. It is vain to press the recommendation of freedom from prejudice so far; since we cannot but conceive some propositions to be more connected with our welfare than others, and, consequently, to desire their truth. These exaggerations lay a funda- mental condition of honest inquiry open to the sneers of its adversaries; and it is sufficient, because nothing more is really attainable, first to dispossess ourselves of the notion that our interests are concern- ed where they are not, and next, even when we cannot but wish one result of our inquiries rather than another, to be the more unremitting in our endeavours to exclude this bias from our reasoning. 124. I cannot think any parent or in- structer justified in neglecting to put this little treatise in the hands of a boy about the time when the reasoning faculties be- come developed. It will give him a sober * See a letter to Molyneux, Hated April, 1697. Locke's Works (fol.. 1759), vol. iii., D. 539. FROM 1630 TO 1700. 335 and serious, not flippant or self-conceited, independency of thinking ; and, while it teaches how to distrust ourselves, and to watch those prejudices which necessarily grow up from one cause or another, will inspire asouable confidence in what he has well considered, by taking off a little of that deference to authority, which is the more to be regretted in its c.\ that, like its cousin-german, party spirit, it is frequently united to loyalty of heart and the generous enthusiasm of youth. CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, AND OF JURISPRUDENCE, FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECT. I. ON MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Pascal's Provincial Letters. Taylor. Cuclworth. Spinosa. Cumberland's Law of Nature. Puf- feridorl's Treatise on the same Subject. Roche- foucault and La Bruytire. Locke on Education. Fenelon. 1. THE casuistical writers of the Ro- casuisiryof man Church, and especially of the Jesuits. t | ie j esu jt order, belong to ear- lier periods ; for little room was left for anything but popular compilations from large works of vast labour and accredited authority. But tho false principles im- puted to the latter school now raised a louder cry than before. Implacable and unsparing enemies, as well as ambitious intriguers themselves, they were encoun- tered by a host of those who envied, fear- ed, and hated them. Among those, none were such willing or able accusers as the Pascal's ivo- Jaiiscnists whom theypersecu- vinuiai J.et- ted. Pascal, by his Provin- ters - cial Letters, did more to ruin the name of Jesuit than all the controver- sies of Protestanism, or all the fulmina- tions of the Parliament of Paris. A letter of Antony Aruauld, published in 1G55, wherein lie declared that he could not find in Jansenius the propositions condemned by the pope, and laid himself open to cen- sure by some of his own, provoked the Sorbonnc, of which he was a member, to exclude him from the faculty of theology. Before this resolution was taken, Pascal came forward in defence of his friend, un- der a fictitious name, in the first of what have been always called Lettres Provin- ciates, but, more accurately, Lettres ec rites par Louis de Montalte a un Provincial de ses Amis. In the first four of them he discusses the thorny problems of Jansen- ism, aiming chiefly to show that St. Thom- as Aquinas had maintained the same doc- trine on efficacious grace which his disci- ples the Dominicans now rejected from another quarter. But he passed from hence to a theme more generally intelligi- ble and interesting, the false morality of the Jesuit casuists. He has accumulated so long a list of scandalous decisions, and dwelt upon them with so much wit and spirit, and yet with so serious a severity, that the order of Loyola became a by- word with mankind. 1 do not agree with those who think the Provincial Letters a greater proof of the genius of Pascal than his Thoughts, in spite of the many weak- nesses in reasoning which the latter dis- play. They are at present, finely written as all confess them to be, too much filled with obsolete controversy ; they quote books too much forgotten; they have too little bearing on any permanent sympa- thies, to be read with much interest or pleasure. 2. The Jesuits had, unfortunately for themselves, no writers at that Their truth time of sufficient ability to de- "i fend them: and, being" disliked by M by many who were not Jansenists, could make little stand against their adversa- ries till public opinion had already taken its line. They have since not failed to charge Pascal with extreme misrepresent- ation of their eminent casuists, Kscobar, Busenbatim, and many others, so that some have ventured to call the Provincial Letters the immortal liars (les immortel- les monteuses). It lias been insinuated, sinre Pascal's veracity is hard to attack, that he was deceived by tho--e from whom he borrowed his quotations. But he has declared himself, in a remarkable pas not only that, far from repenting of these letters, he would make them yet stronger if it were to be done again, but that, al- though he had not read all the books lie has quoted, else he must have spent great part of his life in reading bad books. y< t that he had read Kscobar twice through, and, with respect to the rest, he had not quoted a single passage without having seen it in the book, and examined the context before, and after, that he might not confound an objection with an answer, which would have been reprehensible and unjust;* it is therefore impossible to CEuvres de Pascal, vol. i., p. 400. 336 LITERATURE OF EUROPE save the honour of Pascal if his quota- tions are not fair. Nor did he stand alone in his imputations on the Jesuit casuistry. A book, called Morale des Jesuites, by Nicolas Perrault, published at Mons in 1667, goes over the same ground with less pleasantry but not less learning. 3. The most extensive and learned work Taylor's on casuistry which has appeared Ducior DU- in the English language is the biianiiu.ii. Doctor Dubitantium of Jeremy Taylor, published in 1660. This, as its title shows, treats of subjective morality, or the guidance of the conscience. But this cannot be much discussed without establishing some principles of objective right and wrong, some standard by which the conscience is to be ruled. " The whole measure and rule of conscience," accord- ing to Taylor, " is the law of God, or God's will signified to us by nature or revelation ; and by the several manners, and times, and parts of its communication it hath obtained several names : the law of nature the consent of nations right reason the Decalogue the sermon of Christ the | canons of the apostles the laws ecclesi- astical and civil of princes and governors fame, or the public reputation of things, expressed by proverbs, and other instances and manners of public honesty. . . . These, being the full measures of right and wrong, of lawful and unlawful, will be the rule of conscience and the subject of the present book." 4. The heterogeneous combination of its character things so different in nature and and dta-cis. authority, as if they were all expressions of the law of God, does not augur well for the distinctness of Taylor's moral philosophy, and would be disadvan- tageously compared with the Ecclesiasti- cal Polity of Hooker. Nor are we de- ceived iu the anticipations we might draw. ; With many of Taylor's excellences, his ' vast fertility and his frequent acuteness, ' the Ductor Dubitantium exhibits his char- acteristic defects ; the waste of quotations is even greater than in his other writings, and his own exuberance of mind degener- ates into an intolerable prolixity. His solution of moral difficulties is often un- satisfactory ; after an accumulation of ar- guments and authorities, we have the dis- appointment to perceive that the knot is neither untied nor cut ; there seems a want of close investigation of principles, a frequent confusion and obscurity, which Taylor's two chief faults, excessive dis- play and redundancy of language, conspire to produce. Paley is no doubt often super- ficial, and sometimes mistaken ; yet in clearness, in conciseness, in freedom from impertinent reference to authority, he is far superior to Taylor. 5. Taylor seems too much inclined to side with those who resolve all right and wrong into the positive will of God. The law of nature he defines to be " the uni- versal law of the world or of mankind, to which we are inclined by nature, invited by consent, prompted by reason, but which is bound upon us only by the command of God." Though in the strict meaning of the word, law, this may be truly said, it was surely required, considering the large sense which that word has obtained as coincident with moral right, that a fuller explanation should be given than Taylor has even intimated, lest the good- ness of the Deity should seem something arbitrary and precarious. And, though in maintaining, against most of the scholastic metaphysicians, that God can dispense with the precepts of the Decalogue, he may be substantially right, yet his reasons seem by no means the clearest and most satisfactory that might be assigned. It may be added, that in his prolix rules con- cerning what he calls a probable con- science, he comes very near to the much decried theories of the Jesuits. There was, indeed, a vein of subtlety in Taylor's understanding which was not always with- out influence on his candour. 6. A treatise concerning eternal and immutable morality, by Cud- cudworti* worth, was first published in immutable 1731. This may be almost reck- mi'ty. oned a portion of his Intellectual System, the object being what he has declared to be one of those which he had there in view. This w T as to prove that moral dif- ferences of right and wrong are antecedent to any divine law. He wrote, therefore, not only against the Calvinistic school, but in some measure against Taylor, though he abstains from mentioning any recent author except Descartes, who had gone far in referring all moral distinctions to the arbitrary will of God. Cudworth's reasoning is by no means satisfactory, and rests too much on the dogmatic metaphys- ics which were going out of use. The nature or essence of nothing, he maintains. can depend upon the will of God alone ; which is the efficient, but not the formal, cause of all things ; a distinction not very intelligible, but on which he seems to build his theory.* For moral relations, though he admits that they have no ob- jective existence out of the mind, have a positive essence, and therefore are not nothing; whence it follows that they must FROM 1650 TO 1700. 337 bo independent of will. He pours out Ethics. We are not oeceived in Wora , much ancient learning, though not so what might naturally be expect- tern of s^i- lavishly as in the Intellectual System. ed from the unhesitating adhe- nosa - 7. The urgent necessity of contracting ' rencc of Spinosa to a rigorous line of rea- Nicoie. La my sails in this last period, far soiling, that his ethical scheme would of- I'lacette. the most abundant as it is in the ! fer nothing inconsistent with the funda- variety and extent of its literature, re- mental pantheism of his philosophy. In strains me from more than a bare mention ! nature itself, he maintains as before' there of several works not undeserving of re- is neither perfection nor imperfection, nei- gard. The Essais de Morale of Nicole i ther good nor evil ; but these are modes are less read than esteemed, says a late of speaking adopted to express the rela- biographer.* Voltaire, however, prophe- tions of things as they appear to our sied that they would not perish. " The chapter especially," he proceeds, " on the means of preserving peace among men, is a masterpiece to which nothing equal has been left to us by antiquity .-"f These Essays are properly contained in six vol- umes ; but so many other pieces are added in some editions, that the collection under that title is very long. La Placette, min- ister of a French church at Copenhagen, has been called the Protestant Nicole. His Essais de Morale, in 169-2 and other years, are full of a solid morality, rather strict in casuistry, and apparently not de- ficient in observation and analytical views of human nature. They were much es- teemed in their own age. Works of this kind tread so very closely on the depart- ment of practical religion, that it is some- times difficult to separate them on any fixed principle. A less homiletical form, a comparative absence of scriptural quota- tion, a more reasoning and observing mode of dealing with the subject, arc the chief distinctions. But in the sermons of Barrow and some others we find a great deal of what may be justly called moral philosophy. 8. A book by Sharrock, De Officiis so- other wri- cundum liationis Humans; Dicta- tes, ta, 1660, is occasionally quoted, and seems to be of a philosophical na- ture. | Velthuyscn, a Dutch minister, was of more reputation. His name was minds. Whatever contains more positive attributes capable of being apprehended by us than another contains, is more per- fect than it. Whatever we know to be useful to ourselves, that is good ; and whatever impedes our attainment of good is evil. By this utility Spinosa does not understand happiness, if by that is meant pleasurable sensation, but the extension of our mental and bodily capacities. The passions restrain and overpower these ca- pacities ; and coming from without, that is, the body, render the mind a less pow- erful agent than it seems to be. It is only, we may remember, in a popular sense, and subject to his own definitions, that Spinosa acknowledges the mind to be an agent at all ; it is merely so in so far as its causes of action cannot be referred by us to anything external. No passion can be restrained except by a stronger passion. Hence even a knowledge of what is really good or evil for us can of itself restrain no passion: but only us it is associate, 1 with a perception of joy and sorrow, which is a mode of passion. This perception is necessarily accompanied by desire or aversion; but they may often be so weak as to be controlled by other sentiments of the same class, inspir conflicting passions. This is the < of the weakness and inconstancy of many, and he alone is wis > and virtuous who steadily pursues what is useful to hiin- rather obnoxious to the orthodox, since he self; that is, wii.u reason points out as was a strenuous advocate of toleration, a the best means of preserving his well-be- Cartesian in philosophy, and inclined to ing and extending his capacities. judge for himself. His chief works De Prineipiis Jusli et Decori,and De Nat- urali Pudorc.<5> But we must now pass on to those who have exercised a greater in- fluence in moral philosophy, Cumberland and Puffendorf, after giving a short con- sideration to Spinosa. 9. The moral system, if so it may be called, of Spinosa has been developed by him in the fourtli and fifth parts of his * Biog. Univ. t Siecle our nature, so lint the society of such men is most to be desired ; and to en that society by rendering men virtuous. 338 LITERATURE OF EUROPE and by promoting their advantage when they are so, is most useful to ourselves. For the good of such as pursue virtue may be enjoyed by all, and does not ob- struct our own. Whatever conduces to the common society of mankind, and pro- motes concord among them, is useful to all ; and whatever has an opposite ten- dency is pernicious. The passions are sometimes incapable of excess, but of this the only instances are joy and cheerful- ness ; more frequently they become per- nicious by being indulged ; and in some cases, such as hatred, can never be useful. We should therefore, for our own sakes, meet the hatred and malevolence of oth- ers with love and liberality. Spinosa dwells much on the preference due to a social above a solitary life, to cheerful- ness above austerity, and alludes fre- quently to the current theological ethics with censure. 10. The fourth part of the Ethics is en- titled On Human Slavery, meaning the subjugation of the reason to the passions ; the fifth, On Human Liberty, is designed to show, as had been partly done in the former, how the mind or intellectual man is to preserve its supremacy. This is to be effected, not by the extinction, which is impossible, but by the moderation of the passions ; and the secret of doing this, according to Spinosa, is to contemplate such things as are naturally associated with affections of no great violence. We find that, when we look at things simply in themselves, and not in their necessary relations, they affect us more powerfully ; whence it may be inferred that we shall weaken the passion by viewing them as parts of a necessary series. We pro- mote the same end by considering the ob- ject of the passion in many different re- lations, and, in general, by enlarging the sphere of our knowledge concerning it. Hence, the more adequate ideas we attain of things that affect us, the less we shall be overcome by the passion they excite. But, most of all, it should be our endeav- our to refer all things to the idea of God. The more we understand ourselves and our passions, the more we shall love God ; for the more we understand anything, the- more pleasure we have in contemplating it ; and we shall associate the idea of God with this pleasurable contemplation, which is the essence of love. The love of God should be the chief employment of the mind. But God has no passions ; therefore, he who desires that God should love him, desires, in fact, that he should (ease to be God. And the more we be- lieve others to be united in the same love of God, the more we shall love him our- selves. 11. The great aim of the mind, and the greatest degree of virtue, is the knowl- edge of things in their essence. This knowledge is the perfection of human na- ture ; it is accompanied with the greatest joy and contentment ; it leads to a love of God, intellectual, not imaginative ; eter- nal, because not springing from passions that perish with the body, being itself a portion of that infinite love with which God intellectually loves himself. In this love towards God our chief felicity con- sists, which is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself ; nor is any one happy because he has overcome the passions ; but it is by being happy, that is, by enjoy- ing the fulness of Divine love, that he has become capable of overcoming them. 12. These extraordinary effusions con- firm what has been hinted in another place, that Spinosa, in the midst of his atheism, seemed often to hover over the regions of mystical theology. This last book of the Ethics speaks, as is evident, the very language of Quietism. In .Spi- nosa himself it is not easy to understand the meaning ; his sincerity ought not, I think, to be called in question; and this enthusiasm may be set down to the rap- ture of the imagination expatiating in the enchanting wilderness of its creation. But the possibility of combining such a tone of contemplative devotion with the systematic denial of a Supreme Being, in any personal sense, may put us on our guard against the tendency of mysticism, which may again, as it has frequently, de- generate into a similar chaos. 13. The science of ethics, in the third quarter of the seventeenth cen- Cumberland's tury, seemed to be cultivated by i|e Legibus three very divergent schools : N by that of the theologians, who went no farther than revelation, or, at least, than the positive law of God, for moral dis- tinctions ; by that of the Platonic philos- ophers, who sought them in eternal and intrinsic relations ; and that of Hobbes and Spinosa, who reduced them all to selfish prudence. A fourth theory, which, in some of its modifications, has greatly prevailed in the last two centuries, may be referred to Kichard Cumberland, after- ward bishop of Peterborough. His fa- mous work, De Legibus Natnnc Disquisi- tio Philosophica, was published in 1672. It is contained in nine chapters, besides the preface or prolegomena. 14. Cumberland begins by mentioning Grotius, Selden, and one or two more who have investigated the laws of nature u FROM 1650 TO 1700. 339 Analysis of posteriori, that is, by the testimo- proiegom- ny of authors and the consent eua. o f nations. But as some objec- tions may be started against this mode of proof, which, though he does not hold them to be valid, are likely to have some effect, he prefers another line of demonstration, deducing the laws of nature, as effects, from their real causes in the constitution of nature itself. The Platonic theory of innate moral ideas, sufficient to establish natural law, he does not admit. " For myself, at least, I may say that I have not been so fortunate as to arrive at the knowledge of this law by so compendious a road." He deems it, therefore, necessa- ry to begin with what we learn by daily use and experience, preserving nothing but the physical laws of motion shown by mathematicians, and the derivation of all their operations from the will of a First Cause. 15. By diligent observation of all prop- ositions which can be justly reckoned gen- eral moral laws of nature, he finds that they may be reduced to one, the pursuit of the common good of all rational agents, which tends to our own good as part of the whole ; as its opposite tends not only to the misery of the whole system, but to our own.* This tendency, he takes care to tell us, though he uses the present tense (c.onducit), has respect to the most remote consequences, and is so understood by him. The means which serve to this end, the general good, may be treated as theo- rems in a geometrical method. f Cumber- land, as we have seen in Spinosa, was captivated by the apparent security of this road to truth. 16. This scheme, he observes, may at first sight want the two requisites of a law, a legislator and a sanction. But whatever is naturally assented to by our minds must spring from the author of na- ture. God is proved to be the author of every proposition which is proved to be true by the constitution of nature, which has him for its author.{ Nor is a sanc- tion wanting in the rewards, that is, the happiness which attends the observance i of the law of nature, and in the opposite | effects of its neglect ; and in a lax sense, | though not that of the jurists, reward as } well as punishment may be included in the word sanction. But benevolence, that is, love and desire of good towards all ration- al beings, includes piety towards God, the greatest of -them all, as well as humanity.]) Cumberland altogether abstains from ar- * Prolegomena, sect. 9. t Seer 13. $ Sect. 14. t Sect. *12. II Sect. 15. guments founded on revelation, and is, perhaps, the first writer on natural law' who has done so, for they may even be found in Hobbes. And I think that he may be reckoned the founder of what is awkwardly and invidiously called the util- itarian school ; for, though similar expres- sions about the common good may some- times be found in the ancients, it does not seem to have been the basis of any eth- ical system. 17. This common good, not any minute particle of it, as the benefit of a single mantis the great end of the legislator and of him who obeys his will. And such human actions as by their natural tenden- cy promote the common good may be called naturally good, more than those which tend only to the good of any one man, by how much the whole is greater than this small part. And whatever is directed in the shortest way to this end may be called right, as a right line is the shortest of all. And as the whole system of the universe, when all things are ar- ranged so as to produce happiness, is beautiful, being aptly disposed to its end, which is the definition of beauty, so par- ticular actions contributing to this general harmony may be called beautiful and be- coming.* 18. Cumberland acutely remarks, in an- swer to the objection to the practice of virtue from the evils which fall on good men, and the success of the wicked, that no good or evil is to be considered, in this point of view, which arises from mere ne- cessity or external causes, and not from our virtue or vice itself. He then shows that a regard for piety and peace, for mu- tual intercourse, and civil and domestic polity, tends to the happiness of every one ; and, in reckoning the good conse- quences of virtuous behaviour, we are not only to estimate the pleasure intimately connected with it, which the love of God and of good men produces, but the contin- gent benefits we obtain by civil society, which we promote by such conduct.! And we see that in all nations there is some regard to good faith and the distri- bution of property, some respect to the obligation of oaths, some attachments to relations and friends. All men therefore acknowledge, and to a certain extent per- form, those things which really tend to the common good. And, though crime and violence sometimes prevail, yet these are like diseases in the body which it shakes off; or if, like them, they prove sometimes mortal to a single community, Sect. 16. t Sect. 20. LITERATURE OF EUROPE yet human society is immortal; and the conservative principles of common good have in the end far more efficacy than those which dissolve and destroy states. 19. We may reckon the happiness con- sequent on virtue as a true sanction of natural law annexed to it by its author, and thus fulfilling the necessary conditions of ils definition. And though some have laid less stress on these sanctions, and deemed virtue its own reward, and grati- tude to God and man its best motive, yet the consent of nations and common expe- rience show us that, the observance of the first end. which is the common good* will not be maintained without remuneration or penal consequences. 20. By this single principle of common good, we signify the method of natural law, and arrange its secondary precepts in such subordination as best conduces to the general end. Hence moral rules give way in particular cases, when they come in collision with others of more extensive importance. For all ideas of right or vir- tue imply a relation to the system and na- ture of all rational beings. And the prin- ciples thus deduced as to moral conduct are generally applicable to political socie- ties, which, in their two leading institu- tions, the division of property and the co- ercive power of the magistrate, follow the steps of natural law, and adopt these rules of polity, because they perceive them to promote the common weal. 21. From all intermixture of scriptural authority Cumberland proposes to abstain, building only on reason and experience ; since we believe the Scriptures to proceed from God, because they illustrate and pro- mote the law of nature. He seems to have been the first Christian writer who sought to establish systematically the principles of moral right independently of revelation. They are, indeed, taken for granted by many, especially those who adopted the Platonic language ; or the schoolmen may have demonstrated them by arguments derived from reason, but seldom, if ever, without some collateral reference to theological authority. In this respect, therefore, Cumberland may be deemed to make an epoch in the histo- ry of ethical philosophy, though Puffen- dorf, whose work was published the same year, may have nearly equal claims to it. If we compare the Treatise on the Laws of Nature with the Ductor Dubitantium of Taylor, written a very few years before, we shall find ourselves in a new world of moral reasoning. The schoolmen and fathers, the canonists and casuists, have vanished, like ghosts, at the first daylight ; the continual appeal is to experience, and never to authority ; or, if authority can be said to appear at all in the pages of Cum- berland, it is that of the great apostles of experimental philosophy, Descartes or Huygens, or Harvey or Willis. His mind, liberal and comprehensive, as well as acute, had been forcibly impressed with the discoveries of his own age, both in mathematical science and in what is now more strictly called physiology. From this armory he chose his weapons, and employed them, in some instances, with great sagacity and depth of thought. From the brilliant success, also, of the modern analysis, as well as from the nat- ural prejudice in favour of a geometrical method, which arises from the acknowl- edged superiority of that science in the determination of its proper truths, he was led to expect more from the use of simi- lar processes in moral reasoning than we have found justified by experience. And this analogy had probably some effect on one of the chief errors of his ethical sys- j tern, the reduction, at least in theory, of j the morality of actions to definite calcula- tion. 22. The prolegomena or preface to Cumberland's treatise, contains His theory that statement of his system expanded with which we have been hith- aflerwarj - erto concerned, and which the whole vol- ume does but expand. His manner of reasoning is diffuse, abounding in repeti- tions, and often excursive : we cannot avoid perceiving that he labours long on propositions which no adversary would dispute, or on which the dispute could be little else than one of verbal definition. This, however, is almost the universal failing of preceding philosophers, and was | only put an end to, if it can be said yet to ! have ceased, by the sharper logic of con- troversy, which a more general regard to ( metaphysical inquiries, and a juster sense 1 of the value of words, brought into use. 23. The question between Cumberland and his adversaries, that is, the school of I Hobbes. is stated to be, whether certain : propositions of immutable truth, directing | the voluntary actions of men in choosing ' good and avoiding evil, and imposing an j obligation upon them independently of civ- : il laws, are necessarily suggested to the | mind by the nature of things and by that of mankind. And the affirmative of this question he undertakes to prove from a consideration of the nature of both ; from which many particular rules might be de- duced, but, above all, that which compre- hends all the rest, and is the basis of his theory; namely, that the greatest possi FROM 1650 TO 1700. ble benevolence (not a mere languid de- sire, but an energetic principle) of every rational agent towards all the rest consti- tutes the happiest condition of each and of all, so far as depends on their own power, and is necessarily required, for their greatest happiness ; whence the common jjood is the supreme law. That God is the author of this law appears evi- dent from his being the author of all na- ture, and of all the physical laws, accord- ing to which impressions are made on our minds. 24. It is easy to observe, by daily expe- rience, that we have the power of doing good to others, and that no men are so happy or so secure as they who most ex- ert this. And this may be proved syn- thetically, and in that more rigorous meth- od which he affects, though it now and then leads the reader away from the sim- plest argument by considering our own faculties of speech and language, the ca- pacities of the hand and countenance, the skill we possess in sciences and in useful arts ; all of which conduce to the social life of mankind, and to their mutual co- operation and benefit. Whatever pre- serves and perfects the nature of any- thing, that is to be called good, and the opposite evil; so that Hobbes has crudely asserted good to respect only the agent desiring it, and, consequently, to be varia- ble. In this it will be seen that the dis- pute is chiefly verbal. 25. Two corollaries of great importance in the theory of ethics spring from a con- sideration of our physical powers. The first is, that, inasmuch as they are limited by their nature, we should never seek to transgress their bounds, but distinguish, as the Stoics did, things within our reach, TO, e' TI/HLV, from those beyond it, ra OVK efi r/^tt-, thus relieving our minds from anx- ious passions, and turning them to the prudent use of the means assigned to us. The other is one which applies more closely to his general principle of morals ; that as all we can do in respect of others, and all the enjoyment we or they can have of particular things, is limited to certain persons, as well as in space and time, we perceive the necessity of distri- bution, both as to things, from which spring the rights of property, and as to persons, by which our benevolence, though a general rule in itself, is practically di- rected towards individuals. For the con- servation of an aggregate whole is the same as that of its divided parts, that is, of single persons, which requires a dis- tributive exercise of the powers of each. Hence property and dominion, or meum 341 and tuum, in the most general sense, are consequences from the general law of na- ture. Without a support from that law, according to Cumberland, without a posi- tive tendency to the good of all rational agents, we should have no right, even to things necessary for our preservation ; nor have we that right if a greater evil would be incurred by our preservation than by our destruction. It may be add- ed, as a more universal reflection, that as all we see in nature is so framed as to persevere in its appointed state, and as the human body is endowed with the power of throwing oft" whatever is nox- ious and threatens the integrity of its condition, we may judge from this that the conservation of mankind in its best state must be the design of nature, and that their own voluntary actions, condu- cing to that end, must be such as the Au- thor of nature commands and approves. 26. Cumberland next endeavours, by an enlarged analysis of the mental and bodily structure of mankind, to evince their apti- tude for the social virtues, that is, for the general benevolence which is the primary law of nature. We have the power of knowing these by our rational faculty, which is the judge of right and wrong, that is, of what is conformable to the great law ; and by- the other faculties of the mind, as well as by the use of language, we generalize and reduce to propositions the determinations of reason. We have also the power of comparison, and of per- ceiving analogies, by means of which we estimate degrees of good. And if we are careful to guard against deciding without clearand adequate apprehensionis of things, our reason will not mislead us. The ob- servance of something like this general law of nature by inferior animals, which rarely, as Cumberland supposes, attack those of the same species, and in certain instances live together, as if by a compact for mutual aid ; the peculiar contrivances in the human body, which seem designed for the maintenance of society; the pos- session of speech, the pathognomic coun- tenance, the efficiency of the hand, a lon- gevity beyond the lower animals, the du- ration of the sexual appetite throughout the year, with several other ar. intimated, a great deal too much of a mat-uematical line of argument, which nev- er illustrates his meaning, and has some- times misled his judgment. We owe prob- ably to his fondness for this specious il- lusion I mean, the application of reason- ings upon quantity to moral subjects the dangerous sophism that a direct calcula- tion of the highest good, and that not rel- ative to particulars, but to all rational beings, is the measure of virtuous actions, the test by which we are to try our own conduct and that of others. And the in- tervention of general rales, by which Paley endeavoured to dilute and render palatable this calculating scheme of utility, seem* no more to have occurred to Cumberland than it was adopted by Bentham. 36. Thus, as Taylors Ductor Dubitan- tium is nearly the last of a declining school, Cumberland's Law of Nature may be just- ly considered as the herald, especially in England, of a new ethical philosophy ; oi which the main characteristics were, first, that it stood complete in itself without the aid of revelation ; secondly, that it ap- pealed to no authority of earlier writers whatever, though it sometimes used them in illustration ; thirdly, that it availed it- self of observation and experience, alle- ging them generally, but abstaining from particular instances of either, and making, above all, no display of erudition ; and, fourthly, that it entered very little upon casuistry, leaving the application of prin- ciples to the reader. 37. In the same year, 1672, a work still more generally distinguished than that of Cumberland was ESwrfN? published at Lund, in Sweden, ture and Na- by Samuel Puffendorf, a Saxon llons - by birth, who filled the chair of moral philosophy in that recently-founded uni- versity. This large treatise On the Law of Nature and Nations, in eight books, was abridged by the author, but not with- out some variations, in one perhaps more useful, On the Duties of a Man and a Citizen. Both have been translated into French and English ; both were long stud- ied in the foreign universities, and even in our own. Puffendorf has been, perhaps, in moral philosophy, of greater authority than Grotius, with whom he is frequently named in conjunction ; but this is not the case in international jurisprudence. 38. Puffendorf, after a very diffuse and technical chapter on moral beings Anaiysisof or modes, proceeds to assert a this work - demonstrative certainty in moral science, but seems not to maintain an inherent right and wrong in actions antecedent to all law, referring the rule of morality al- together to the Divine appointment. He ends, however, by admitting that man's constitution being what it is, God could not, without inconsistency, have given him any other law than that under which he lives.* We discern good from evil by the understanding, which judgment, when ex- ercised on our own actions, is called con- science ; but he strongly protests against any such jurisdiction of conscience, inde- pendent of reason and knowledge, as some have asserted. This notion " was first introduced by the schoolmen, and has * Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy, p. 48. C. 2. FROM 1G50 TO 1700. 345 been maintained iu these latter ages by the crafty casuists for the better securing of men's minds and fortunes to their own fortune and advantage."* Puffendorf was a good deal imbued with the Lutheran bigotry, which did no justice to any re- ligion but its own. 39. Law alone creates obligation ; no one can be obliged except towards a su- perior. But to compel and to oblige being different things, it is required for this latter that we should have received some great good at the hands of a superior, or have voluntarily submitted to his will. This seems to involve an antecedent moral right, which Puffcndorf's general theory denies. f Barbeyrac, his able and watch- ful commentator, derives obligation from our natural dependance on the supreme authority of God, who can punish the dis- obedient and reward others. In order to make laws obligatory, it is necessary, ac- cording to Puffendorf, that we should know both the law and the lawgiver's authority. Actions are good or evil as they conform more or less to law. And. coming to con- sider the peculiar qualities of moral ac- tions, he introduces the distinction of per- fect and imperfect rights, objecting to that of Grotius and the Roman lawyers, ex- pletive and distributive justice. f This first book of Puffendorf is very diffuse ; and some chapters are wholly omitted in the abridgement. 40. The natural state of man, such as in theory we may suppose, is one in which he was never placed, " thrown into the world at a venture, and then left entirely to himself, with no larger endowments of body or mind than such as we now dis- cover in men." This, however, he seems to think physically possible to have been, which I should incline to question. .Man, in a state of nature, is subject to no earth- ly superior ; but we must not infer thence that he is incapable of law, and has a right. ' to everything that is profitable to himself. ' But, after discussing the position of Hobbes that a state of nature is a state ; of war, he ends by admitting that the de- ' sire of peace is too weak and uncertain l a security for its preservation among mankind. t 41. The law of nature he derives, not from consent of nations or from per- sonal utility, but from the condition of man. It is discoverable by reason ; its obligation is from God. He denies that it is founded on the intrinsic honesty or turpitude of actions. It was free to God whether he would create an animal to C. 3. t C. 6. VOL. II. X x C. 7. L. ii., c. 2. whom the present law of nature should be applicable. But, supposing all things , human to remain constant, the law of na- ture, though owing its institution to the free will of God, remains unalterable. He therefore neither agrees wholly with those who deem this law as one arbitrary and mutable at God's pleasure, nor those who look upon it as an image of his es- sential holiness and justice. For he doubts whether the law of nature is altogether conformed to the Divine attributes as to a type, since we cannot acquire a right with respect to God; so that his just ire must be of a different kind from ours. Common consent, again, is an insufficient basis of natural law, few men having searched into the foundations of their as- sent, even if we could find a more general consent than is the case. And here he expatiates, in the style of Montaigne's school, on the variety of moral opinions.* Puffendorf next attacks those who resolve right into self-interest. But, unfortunate- ly, he only proves that men often mistake their interest. "It is a great mistake to fancy it will be profitable to you to take away, cither by fraud or violence, what another man has acquired by his labour, since others have not only the power of resisting you, but of taking the same free- dom with your goods and possessions."! This is evidently no answer to Hobbes or Spinosa. 42. The nature of man, his wants, his powers of doing mischief to others, his means of mutual assistance, show tint he cannot be supported in things necessary and convenient to him without society, so that others may promote his interests. Hence sociableness is a primary law of nature, and all things tending towards it are commanded, as the opposite are for- bidden by that law. In this he agrees with Grotius ; and, after he had become acquainted with Cumberland's work, ob- serves that the fundamental law of that writer, to live for the common good, and show benevolence towards all men. not differ from his own. He partly ex- plains and partly answers the theory of Hobbes. From Grotius he dissents iu denying that the law of nature would be binding without religion, but docs not think the soul's immortality essential to it.f The best division of natural law is into duties towards ourselves and to- wards others. But in the abridged work, the Duties of a Man and a Citi/eii, he adds those towards God. 43. The former class of duties he il- * C. 3. t Ibid. 346 lustrates with much prolixity and need- less quotation,* and passes to the right of self-defence, which seems to be the de- bateable frontier between the two classes of obligation. In this chapter Puffendorf is free from the extreme scrupulousness of Grotius ; yet he differs from him, as well as from Barbeyrac and Locke, in de- nying the right of attacking the aggressor, where a stranger has been injured, unless where we arc bound to him by promise. f 44. All persons, as is evident, are bound to repair wilful injury, and even that ari- sing from their neglect ; but not, where they have not been in fault. J Yet the civil action ob pauperism, for casual dam- age by a boast or slave, which Grotius held to be merely of positive law, mid which our own (in the only applicable case) does not recognise, Puffendorf thinks grounded on natural right. He considers several questions of reparation, chiefly such as we find in Grotius. From these, after some intermediate disquisi- tions on moral duties, he comes to the more extensive province of casuistry, the obligation of promises. These, for the most part, give perfect rights which may be enforced, though this is not universal ; hence promises themselves may be called imperfect. The former, or nuda pacta, seem to be obligatory rather by the rules of veracity, and for the sake of maintain- ing confidence among men, than in strict justice ; yet he endeavours to refute the opinion of a jurist who held nuda pacta to involve no obligation beyond a compen- 1 sation for damage. Free consent and knowledge of the whole subject are re- quired for the validity of a promise ; \ hence drunkenness takes away its obliga- tion. || Whether a minor is bound in con- science, though not in law, has been dis- puted; the Romish casuists all denying it unless he has received an advantage. La Placette, it seems, after the time of Puf- fendorf, though a very rigid moralist, con- fines the obligation to cases where the other party sustains any real damage by the non-performance. The world, in some instances at least, would exact more than the strictest casuists. Promises were in- validated, though not always mutual con- tracts, by error ; and fraud in the other party annuls a contract. There can be no obligation, Puffendorf maintains, with- out a corresponding right ; hence fear arising from the fault of the other parly invalidates a promise. But those made to pirates or rebels, not being extorted by fear, are binding. Vows to God he deems * C. 4. f C. 5. J L. iii., c. 1. $ C. 5. || C. 6. not binding, unless accepted by him ; but he thinks that we may presume their ac- ceptance when they serve to define or specify an indeterminate duty.* Unlaw- ful promises must not be performed by the party promising to commit an evil act ; and as to performance of the other party's promise, he differs from Grotius in thinking it not binding. Barbeyrac concurs with Puffendorf, but Paley holds the contrary ; and the common senti- ments of mankind seem to be on that side.f 45. The obligations of veracity Puffen- dorf, after much needless prolixity on the nature of signs and words, deduces from a tacit contract among mankind, that words, or signs of intention, shall be used in a definite sense which others may un- derstand. J He is rather fond of these imaginary compacts. The laxer casuists are in nothing more distinguishable from the more rigid than in the exceptions they allow to the general rule of veracity. Many, like Augustin and most of the fa- thers, have laid it down that all falsehood is unlawful ; even sonic of the jurists, when treating of morality, had done the same. But Puffendorf gives considerable latitude to deviations from truth, by men- tal reserve, by ambiguous words, by di- rect falsehood. Barbeyrac, in a long note, goes a good deal farther, and, indeed, be- yond any safe limit. An oath, accord- ing to those writers, adds no peculiar ob- ligation ; another remarkable discrepance between their system and that of the the- ological casuists. Oaths may be released by the party in favour of whom they are made ; but it is necessary to observe whether the dispensing authority is really the obligee. 46. We now advance to a different part of moral philosophy, the rights of prop- erty. Puffendorf first inquires into the natural right of killing animals for food ; but does not defend it very well, resting this right on the want of mutual obliga- tion between man and brutes. The argu- * C. 6. f C. 7. J L. iv.,c. 1. Barbeyrac admits that several writers of au- thority since Puffendorf had maintained the strict obligation of veracity for its own sake ; Thoina- sins, Buddaeus, Noodt, and, above all, La Placette. His own notions are too much the other way, both according to the received standard of honourable and decorous character among men, and according to any sound theory of ethics. Lying, he says, condemned in Scripture, always means fraud or in- jury to others. His doctrine is, that we are to speak the truth, or to be silent, or to feign and dis- semble, accordingly as our own lawful interest, or that of our neighbour, may demand it. This is surely as untenable one way as any paradox in Au- gustin or La Placette can be the other. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 347 raenls from physiology and the manifest | propensity of mankind to devour animals, are much stronger. He censures cruelty towards animals, but hardly on clear ! grounds ; the disregard of moral emo- tion, which belongs to his philosophy, pre- vents his judging it rightly.* Property itself in things he grounds on an express or tacit contract of mankind, while all I was yet in common, that each should j possess a separate portion. This cove- nant he supposes to have been gradually extended, as men perceived the advantage of separate possession, lands having been cultivated in common after severally had j been established in houses and move-able goods : and he refutes those who main- tain property to be coeval with mankind, and immediately founded on the law of nature. f Nothing can be the subject of property which is incapable of exclusive occupation ; not, therefore, the ocean, though some narrow seas may be appro- priated. J In the remainder of this fourth book he treats on a variety of subjects connected with property, which carry us over a wide field of natural and positive jurisprudence. 47. The fifth book of Puffendorf relates to price, and to all contracts onerous or lucrative, according to the distinction of! the jurists, with the rules of their inter- pretation. It is a running criticism on the Roman law, comparing it with right reason and justice. Price he divides into proper and eminent ; the first being what we call real value, or capacity of procu- ring things desirable by means of ex- change ; the second the money value. What is said on this subject would now seem commonplace and prolix; but it is rather interesting to observe the begin- nings of political economy. Money, he thinks, was introduced by an agreement of civilized nations as a measure of value. Puffendorf, of more enlarged views than Grotius, vindicates usury, which the other had given up: and mentions the evasions usually practised, such as the grant of an annuity for a limited term. 48. In the sixth book we have disquisi- tions on matrimony and the rights incident to it, on paternal and on herile power. Among other questions he raises one, whether the husband has any natural dominion over the wife. This he thinks hard to prove, except as his sex gives him an advantage ; but fitness to govern does not create a right. He has recourse, there- * C. 3. t C. 4. Barbeyrac more wisely denies this as- sumed compact, and rests the right of property on individual occupancy.. t C. 5. fore, to his usual solution, her tacit or ex- press promise of obedience. Polygamy he deems contrary to the law of nature but not incest, except in the direct line. This is consonant to what had been the general determination of philosophers.* The right of parents he derives from tho general duty of sociableness, which makes preservation of children necessary, and on the alVection implanted in them by nature; also on a presumed consent of the children ia return for their maintenance.! In a state of nature this command belongs to the mother, unless she has waived it by a matrimonial contract. In childhood, the fruits of the child's labour belong to the father, though the former seems to be capable of receiving gifts. Fathers, as heads of families, have a kind of sov- ereignty, distinct from the paternal, to which adult children residing with them are submitted. But after their emancipa- tion by leaving their father's house, which does not absolutely require his consent, they are bound only to duty and reverence. The power of a master over his servant is not by nature, nor by the law of war, but originally by a contract founded on necessity. War increased the number of those in servitude. A slave, whatever Hobbes may say, is capable of being in- jured by his master ; but the laws of some nations give more power to the latter than is warranted by those of nature. Servi- tude implies only an obligation to perpetual labour for a recompense (namely, at least maintenance) ; the evil necessary n> this condition has been much exaggerated by opinion. J 49. Puffendorf and Cumberland are the two great promoters, if not found- ]>,,(r lM ,,iorf ers of that school in ethics, which, ami i';iiry abandoning the higher ground of r "'"iarc lomi- nant over mere literary instruction, if. in- deed, the latter can be said to appear at all in their writings on this subject : but we had become the du;v - of schoolmas- ters in our riper years, as \\c h:>d boon their slaves in our youth. Much Ins been written, and often well, since the days of 350 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Locke ; but he is the chief source from which it has been ultimately derived ; and, though the Emile is more attractive in manner, it may be doubtful whether it is as rational and practicable as the Treatise on Education. I f they have both the same defect, that their authors wanted sufficient observation of children, it is certain that the caution and sound judgment of Locke have rescued him -tetter from error. 55. There are, indeed, from this or from other causes, several passages s ' in the Treatise on Education to which we cannot give an unhesitating as- sent. Locke appears to have somewhat exaggerated the efficacy of education. This is an error on the right side in a work that aims at persuasion in a practi- cal matter; but we are now looking at theoretical truth alone " I think I may say," he begins, ''that of all the men we meet with, nine parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their education. It is this which makes the great difference in mankind. The little or almost insensible impressions on our ten- der infancies have very important and lasting consequences ; and there 'tis as in the fountains of some rivers, where a gen- tle application of the hand turns the flexi- ble waters into channels that make them take quite contrary courses ; and by this little direction given them at first in the source, they receive different tendencies, and arrive at last at very remote and dis- tant places." " I imagine," he adds soon afterward, "the minds of children as easi- ly turned this or that way as water itself.''* 50. This passage is an instance of Locke's unfortunate fondness for analogi- cal parallels, which, as far as I have ob- served, much more frequently obscure a philosophical theorem than shed any light upon it. Nothing would be easier than to confirm the contrary proposition by such fanciful analogies from external nature. In itself, the position is hyperbolical to ex- travagance. It is no more disparagement to the uses of education that it will not produce the like effects upon every indi- vidual, than it is to those of agriculture (I purposely use this sort of idle analogy) that we do not reap the same quantity of corn from every soil. Those who are conversant with children on a large scale will, I believe, unanimously deny this lev- elling efficacy of tuition. The variety of characters even in children of the same family, where the domestic associations 'Treatise on Education, 152. "The differ- ence," he afterward says, " to be found in the man- ners and abilities of men, is owing more to their ed- ucation than to anything else." 32. of infancy have run in the same trains, and where many physical congenialities may produce, and ordinarily do produce, a moral resemblance, is of sufficiently fre- quent occurrence to prove that in human beings there are intrinsic dissimilitudes, which no education can essentially over- come. Among mere theorists, however, this hypothesis seems to be popular. And as many of these extend their notion of the plasticity of human nature to the ef- fects of government and legislation, which is a sort of continuance of the same con- trolling power, they are generally induced to disregard past experience of human af- fairs, because they flatter themselves that, under a more scientific administration, mankind will become something very dif- ferent from what they have been. 57. In the age of Locke, if we may con- fide in what he tells us, the domestic edu- cation of children must have been of the worst kind. " If we look," he says, " into the common management of children, we shall have reason to wonder, in the great dissoruteuess of manners which the world complains of, that there are any footsteps at all left of virtue. 1 desire to know what vice can be named which parents and those about children do not season them with, and drop into them the seeds of, as often as they are capable to receive them." The mode of treatment seems to have been passionate and often barba- rous severity alternating with foolish in- dulgence. Their spirits were often bro- ken down and their ingenuousness de- stroyed by the former; their habits of self-will and sensuality confirmed by the latter. This was the course used by pa- rents ; but the pedagogues, of course, con- fined themselves to their favourite scheme of instruction and reformation by punish- ment. Dugald Stewart has animadverted en the austerity of Locke's rules of educa- tion.* And this is certainly the case in some respects. lie recommends that chil- dren should be taught to expect nothing because it will give them pleasure, but only what will be useful to them ; a rule fit, in its rigid meaning, to destroy the pleasure of the present moment in the only period of life that the present mo- ment can be really enjoyed. No fathei himself, Locke neither knew how ill a pa- rent can spare the love of his child, nor how HI a child can want the constant and practical sense of a parent's love. But if he was led too far by deprecating the mischievous indulgence he had sometimes witnessed, he made some amends by his Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclop. Britana. FROM 1050 TO 1700. 351 censures on the prevalent discipline of stripes. Of this he speaks with the dis- approbation natural to a mind already schooled in the habits of reason and vir- tue.* " I cannot think any correction use- ful to a child where the shame of suffer- ing for having done amiss does not work more upon him than the pain." Esteem and disgrace are the rewards and punish- ments to which he principally looks. And surely this is a noble foundation for moral discipline. Tie also recommends that chil- dren should be much with their parents, and allowed all reasonable liberty. I can- not think that Stewart's phrase " hardness of character," which he accounts for by the early intercourse of Locke with the Puritans, is justly applicable to anything that we know of him ; a.nd many more passages in this very treatise might be ad- duced to prove his kindliness of disposi- tion, than will appear to any judicious per- son over austere. He found, in fact, every- thing wrong ; a false system of reward and punishment, a false view of the ob- jects of education, a false selection of studies, false methods of pursuing them. Where so much was to be corrected, it was perhaps natural to be too sanguine about the effects of the remedy. 58. Of the old dispute as to public and private education, he says that both sides have their inconveniences, but inclines to prefer the latter, influenced, as is evident, rather by disgust at the state of our schools than by any general principle.! For he insists much on the necessity of giving a boy a sufficient knowledge of what he is to expect in the world. " The longer he is kept hoodwinked, the less he will see when he comes abroad into open daylight, and be the more exposed to be a prey to himself and others."' And this experience will, as is daily seen, not be supplied by a tutor's lectures any more than by book-., nor can .be given by any course save a public education. Locke urges the neces- sity .pf having a tutor well bred, and with knowledge of the world, the ways, the hu- mours, the follies, the cheats, the faults of the age he is fallen into, and particu- * If severity carried to the highfst pile prevail, anil works a cure upon the present unruly distemper, it is oi'ten bringing in the room of it a worse and more dangerous disease by bre;il. tnind ; and then, in the place of a disorderly younu' fellow, you have a low spirited, moped creature, who. however with his unnatural sobriety he may please silly people, who commend tame, inactive children because they make no noise nor give them any trouble, yet at last will probably prove as uncomfortable a thing to his friends, as he will be all his life a useless thing to himself and others. $ 51. t $ . larly of the country he lives in, as of far more importance than his scholarship. li The only fence against the world is a thorough knowledge of it He that thinks not this of more moment to his son, and for which he more needs a governor, than the languages and learned sciences, forgets of how much more use it is to judge right of men and manage his affairs wise- ly with them, than to speak Greek and Latin, and argue in mood and figure, or to have his head filled with the abstruse speculations of natural philosophy and metaphysics ; nay, than to be well versed in Greek and Roman writers, though that be much better for a gentleman than to be a good Peripatetic or Cartesian ; be- cause these ancient authors observed and painted mankind well, and give the best light into that kind of knowledge, lie that goes into the eastern parts of Asia will find able and acceptable men without any of these ; but without virtue, knowl- edge of the world, and civility, an accom- plished and valuable man can be found no- where."* 59. It is to be remembered, that the person whose; education Locke undertakes to fashion is an English gentleman. Vir- tue, wisdom, breeding, and learning are de- sirable for such a one in their order, but the last not so much as the rcst.f It must be had, lie says, but. only as subservient 1o irreater qualities. No objections have been more frequently raised against the scheme of Locke than on account of his depreciation of classical literature and of the study of the learned languages. This is not wholly true: Latin he reckons ab- solutely necessary for a gentleman, though it is absurd that those should learn Latin who are designed for trade, and never look again at a Latin book.J If he lays not so much stress on Greek as a gentleman's study, though he by no means would aban- don it, it is because, in fact, most gentle- men, especially in his age, have done very well without it ; and nothing can be deem- ed indispensable in education of a child, the want of which does not leave a mani- fest deficiency in the man. "No man," lie observes, " can pass for a scholar who lorant of the Greek language. But I am not here considering of the education of a professed scholar, but of a gentle- man."^ 60. The peculiar methods recommended by Locke in learning languages, especial- ly the Latin, appear to be of very doubtful utility, thouuh some of them do not want strenuous supporters in the present day $94. $138. 352 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Such are the method of interlinear trans- | lation, the learning of mere words without grammar, and, above all, the practice of i talking Latin with a tutor who speaks it well : a phoenix whom he has not shown us where to find.* In general, lie seems to underrate the difficulty of acquiring what even he would call a competent learning, and what is of more importance. and no rare mistake in those who write on this subject, to confound the acquisition of a language with the knowledge of its literature. The best ancient writers both j in Greek and Latin furnish so much of j wise reflection, of noble sentiment, of all that is IK autiful and salutary, that no one who has had the happiness to know and feel what they are, will desire to see their study excluded or stinted in its just ex- tent, wherever the education of those who are to be the first and best of the country is carried forward. And though by fai- th e greater portion of mankind must, by force of terms, remain in the ranks of in- tellectual mediocrity, it is an ominous sign of any times when no thought is taken for those who may rise beyond it. 61. In every other part of instruction. Locke has still an eye to what is useful for a gentleman. French he justly thinks ' should be taught before Latin : no geom- : etry is required by him beyond Euclid, : but lie recommends geography, history ; and chronology, drawing, and, what may be thought now as little necessary for a , gentleman as Homer, the jurisprudence of Grbtius and Puffendorf. He strongly urges the writing English well, though a thing commonly neglected : and. after speaking with contempt of the artificial systems of logic and rhei ds .he pupil to Chillingworth for the best exam- ple of reasoning, and to Tuliy for the best idea of eloquence. " And let him read those things that are well writ in K; to perfect his style in the purity of our language."! GQ. Jt would be to transcribe half this treatise were we to mention all the judi- cious and minute observations on the man , agement of children it contains. What- ever may have been Locke's opportuni- ties, he certainly availed himself of them lo the utmost. It is as far as possible from a theoretical book ; and in many re- spects, the best of modern times, si, those of the Eclgewonh name, might pass for developments of his principles. The patient attention to every circumstance, a peculiar characteristic of the genius of Locke, is in none of his works better dis- 156. t 9 188. played. His rules for the health of chil- dren, though sometimes trivial, since the subject has been more regarded : his ex- cellent advice as to checking effeminacy and timorousness ; his observations on their curiosity, presumption, idleness, on their plays and recreations, bespeak an in- tense, though calm, love of truth and good- ness ; a quality which few have possessed more fully, or known so well how to ex- ert, as this admirable philosopher. 63. No one had condescended to spare any thoughts for female educa- Feneion o tio'n, till Fenclon, in 1688, pub- lemaie edu lished his earliest work, Sur c < Ion ' 1'Education dcs t'illes. This was the oc- casion of his appointment as preceptor to the grandchildren of Louis XIV. ; for much of this treatise, and perhaps the most valuable part, is equally applicable to both sexes. It may be compared with that of Locke, written nearly at the same time, and bearing a great resemblance in its spirit. Both have the education of a polished and high-bred youth, rather than of scholars, before them ; and Fenelon rarely loses sight of his peculiar object, or gives any rule which is not capable of being practised in female education. In many respects he coincides with our Eng- lish philosopher, and observes, with him, that a child learns much before he speaks, so that the cultiv.iliou of his moral quali- ties can hardly begin too soon. Both complain of the severity of parents, and ite the mode of bringing up by pun- ishment. Both advise the exhibition of virtue and religion in pleasing lights, and censure the austere dogmatism with which they were inculcated, before the mind was sufficiently developed to apprehend them. Hut the characteristic sweetness of Fene- lon's disposition, is often shown in con- unewhat stern inflexibility of Locke. His theory is uniformly indul- gent ; his method of education is a labour of love : a desire to render children happy for t;. > well as afterward, yms h his book. ;.:id lie may, perhaps, cd the founder of that school which has endeavoured to dissipate the terrors and dry the tears of childhood. ' I -een," lie says. ' many children who learned to read in j-h-y; we have only to read entertaining stories to them out of a book, and insensibly teach them the letters : they will soon desire to go for themselves to the source of their amuse- : looks should be given them well bound and gilt, with good engravings, clear types; for all that captivates the imagination facilitates study ; the choice should be such as contain short and mar- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 353 vellous stories." These details are now trivial, but in the days of Fenelon they may have been otherwise. 64. In several passages he displays not only a judicious spirit, but an observation that must have been long exercised. "Of all the qualities we perceive in children," he remarks, " there is only one that can be trusted as likely to be durable, which is sound judgment ; it always grows with their growth if it is well cultivated ; but the grace of childhood is effaced ; its vi- vacity is extinguished; even its sensibility is often lost, because their own passions and the intercourse of others insensibly harden the hearts of young persons who enter into the world." It is therefore a solid and just way of thinking which we should most value and most improve, and this not by any means less in girls than in the other sex, since their duties and the occupations they are called upon to fill do not less require it. Hence he not only deprecates an excessive taste for dress, but, with more originality, points out the danger of that extreme delicacy and re- finement which incapacitate women for the ordinary affairs of life, and give them a contempt for a country life and rural econ- omy. 65. It will be justly thought, at present, that he discourages too much the acquisi- tion of knowledge by women. " Keep their minds," he says in one place, " as much as you can within the usual limits, and let them understand that the modesty of their sex ought to shrink from science with almost as much delicacy as from vice." This seems, however, to be con- fined to science or philosophy in a strict sense ; for he permits afterward a larger compass of reading. Women should write a good hand, understand orthography and the four rules of arithmetic, which they will want in domestic affairs. To these he requires a close attention, and even recommends to women an acquaintance with some of the common forms and maxims of law. Greek, Roman, and French history, with the best travels, will be valuable, and keep them from seeking pernicious fictions. Books also of elo- quence and poetry may be read with se- lection, taking care to avoid any that re- late to love ; music and painting may be taught with the same precaution. The Italian and Spanish languages are of no use but to enlarge their knowledge of dangerous books ; Latin is better as the language of the Church ; but this he would recommend only for girls of good sense and discreet conduct, who will make no display of the acquisition. VOL. II. Y T SECT. II. ON POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. Puffendorf. Spinosa. Harrington's Oceana. Locke on Government. Political Economy. 66. IN the seventh book of Puffendorf 's ' great work he comes to political Pufft;ndorf , s philosophy, towards which he theory of had been gradually tending for P litics - some time ; primary societies, or those of families, leading the way to the consider- ation of civil government. Grotius de- rives the origin of this from the natural sociableness of mankind. But this, as Puffendorf remarks, may be satisfied by the primary societies. The real cause was experience of the injuries which one man can inflict on another.* And, after a prolix disquisition, he concludes that civil society must have been constituted, first, by a covenant of a number of men, I each with each, to form a commonwealth, and to be bound by the majority, in which primary covenant they must be unani- mous, that is, every dissentient would re- tain his natural liberty ; next, by a resolu- tion or decree of the majority, that certain rulers shall govern the rest ; and, lastly, by a second covenant between these ru- lers and the rest, one promising to take care of the public weal, and the other to obey lawful commands. | This covenant, as he attempts to show, exists even in a democracy, though it is less evident than in other forms. Hobbes had admitted the first of these covenants, but denied the second ; Barbeyrac, the able commentator on Puffendorf, has done exactly the re- verse. A state once formed may be con- ceived to exist as one person, with a sin- gle will, represented by that of the sover- eign, wherever the sovereignty may be placed. This sovereignty is founded on the covenants, and is not conferred, ex- cept indirectly, like every other human power, by God. Puffendorf here combats the opposite opinion, which churchmen were as prone to hold, it seems, in Ger- many as in England.J 67. The legislative, punitive, and judi- ciary powers, those of making war and peace, of appointing magistrates, and lev- ying taxes, are so closely connected that no one can be denied to the sovereign. As to his right in ecclesiastical matters, Puffendorf leaves it for others to deter- mine. He seems, in this part of the work, too favourable to unlimited mon- archy, declaring himself against a mixed ' government. The sovereign power must be irresponsible, and cannot be bound by the law itself has given. He even denies that all government is intended for the L. vii.,c. 1. tC.2. . 3. $C.4. 354 LITERATURE OF EUROPE good of the governed ; a position strange- ly inconsistent with his theory of a cov- enant ; but if it were, this end, the public good, may be more probably discerned by the prince than by the people.* Yet he admits that the exorbitances of a prince should be restrained by certain funda- mental laws, and holds that, having ac- cepted such, and ratified them by oath, he is not at liberty to break them ; arguing, with some apparent inconsistency, against, those who maintain such limitations to be inconsistent with monarchy, and even rec- ommending the institution of councils, without whose consent certain acts of the sovereign shall not be valid. This can only be reconciled with his former decla- ration against a mixed sovereignty, by the distinction familiar to our own constitu- tional lawyers, between the joint acts of A and B, and the acts of A with B's con- sent. But this is a little too technical and unreal for philosophical politics.* Gov- ernments not reducible to one of the three simple forms he calls irregular; such as the Roman republic or German empire. But there may be systems of states, or aggregate communities, either subject to one king by different titles, or united by federation. He inclines to deny that the majority can bind the minority in the lat- ter case, and seems to take it for granted that some of the confederates can quit the league at pleasure.! 68. Sovereignty over persons cannot be acquired, strictly speaking, by seizure or occupation, as in the case of lands, and requires, even after conquest, their con- sent to obey ; which will be given, in or- der to secure themselves from the other rights of war. It is a problem whether, after an unjust conquest, the forced con- sent of the people can give a lawful title to sovereignty. Puffendorf distinguishes between a monarchy and a republic thus unjustly subdued. In the former case, so long as the lawful heirs exist or preserve their claim, the duty of restitution contin- ues. But in the latter, as the people may live as happily under a monarchy as under a republic, he thinks that a usurper has only to treat them well, without scruple as to his title. If he oppresses them, no course of years will make his title lawful, or bind them in conscience to obey, length of possession being only length of injury. If a sovereign has been justly divested of his power, the community becomes im- mediately free ; but if by unjust rebellion, his right continues till by silence he has appeared to abandon it.J C.6. |C. 5. JC.7. 69. Every one will agree that a lawful ruler must not be opposed within the lim- its of his authority. But let us put the case that he should command what is un- lawful, or maltreat his subjects. What- ever Hobbes may say, a subject may be injured by his sovereign. But we should bear minor injuries patiently, and, in the worst cases, avoid personal resistance. Those are not to be listened to who assert that a king, degenerating into a tyrant, may be resisted and punished by his peo- ple. He admits only a right of self-de- fence if he manifestly becomes a public enemy : in all this he seems to go quite as far as Grotius himself. The next question is as to the right of invaders and usurpers to obedience. This, it will be observed, he had already, in some meas- ure, discussed ; but Puffendorf is neither strict in method nor free from repetitions. He labours much about the rights of the lawful prince insisting upon them where the subjects have promised allegiance to the usurper. This, he thinks, must be deemed temporary until the legitimate sovereign has recovered his dominions. But what may be done towards this end by such as have sworn fidelity to the ac- tual ruler he does not intimate. It is one of the nicest problems in political casuis- try.* 70. Civil laws are such as emanate from the supreme power, with respect to things left indifferent by the laws of God and na- ture. What chiefly belongs to them is the form and method of acquiring rights or ob- taining redress for wrongs. If we give the law of nature all that belongs to it, and take away from the civilians what they have hitherto engrossed and promiscu- ously treated of, we shall bring the civil law to a much narrower compass ; not to say that at present, whenever the civil law is deficient, we must have recourse to the law of nature, and that, therefore, in all commonwealths, the natural laws sup- ply the defects of the civil.f He argues against Hobbes's tenet that the civil law cannot be contrary to the law of nature ; and that what shall be deemed theft, mur- der, or adultery, depends on the former. The subject is bound generally not to obey the unjust commands of his sovereign ; but in the case of war, he thinks it, on the whole, safest, considering the usual diffi- culties of such questions, that the subject should serve, and throw the responsibility before God or the prince. { In this prob- lem of casuistry, common usage is wholly against theory. * C. 8. t L. viii., c. 1. Jlbid. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 355 71. Punishment may be defined an evil inflicted by authority upon view of ante- cedent transgression.* Hence exclusion, on political grounds, from public office, or separation of the sick for the sake of the healthy, is not punishment. It does not belong to distributive justice, nor is the magistrate bound to apportion it to the malignity of the offence, though this is usual. Superior authority is necessary to punishment ; and he differs from Grotius by denying that we have a right to avenge the injuries of those who have no claim upon us. Punishment ought never to be inflicted without the prospect of some ad- vantage from it ; either the correction of the offender, or the prevention of his re- peating the offence. But example he seems not to think a direct end of punish- ment, though it should be regarded in its infliction. It is not necessary that all of- fences which the law denounces should be actually punished, though some jurists have questioned the right of pardon. Pun- ishments ought to be measured according to the object of the crime, the injury to the commonwealth, and the malice of the de- linquent. Hence offences against God should be deemed most criminal, and next, such as disturb the state ; then whatever affect life, the peace or honour of families, private property or reputation, following the scale of the Decalogue. But though all crimes do not require equal severity, an exact proportion of penalties is not re- quired. Most of this chapter exhibits the vacillating, indistinct, and almost self-con- tradictory resolutions of difficulties so fre- quent in Puffendorf. He concludes by es- tablishing a great truth, that no man can be justly punished for the offence of anoth- er ; not even a community for the acts of their forefathers, notwithstanding their fictitious immortality.! 72. After some chapters on the law of nations, Puffendorf concludes with dis- cussing the cessation of subjection. This may ordinarily be by voluntarily removing to another state with permission of the sovereign. And if no law or custom in- terferes, the subject has a right to do this at his discretion. The state has not a right to expel citizens without some of- fence. It loses all authority over a ban- ished man. He concludes by considering the rare case of so great a diminution of the people as to raise a doubt of their po- litical identity.^ 73. The political portion of this large Politics of work is not, as will appear, very spinosa. f er tii e in original or sagacious re- * C. 3. t Ibid. C. 11, 12. flection. A great degree of both, though by no means accompanied with a sound theory, distinguishes the Political Trea- tise of Spinosa, one which must not be confounded with the Theologico-political Treatise, a very different work. In this he undertakes to show how a state under a regal or aristocratic government ought to be constituted so as to secure the tranquillity and freedom of the citizens. Whether Spinosa borrowed his theory on the origin of government from Hobbes is perhaps hard to determine : he seems ac- quainted with the treatise De Cive ; but the philosophical system of both was such as, in minds habituated like theirs to close reasoning, could not lead to any other re- sult. Political theory, as Spinosa justly observes, is to be founded on our experi- ence of human kind as it is, and on no vis- ionary notions of a Utopia or golden age ; and hence politicians of practical knowl- edge have written better on these subjects than philosophers. We must treat of men as liable to passions, prone more to re- venge than to pity, eager to rule and to compel others to act like themselves, more pleased with having done harm to oth- ers than with procuring their own good. Hence no state wherein the public affairs are intrusted to any one's good faith can be secure of their due administration ; but means should be devised that neither rea- son nor passion should induce those who govern to obstruct the public weal ; it be- ing indifferent by what motive men act if they can be brought to act for the com- mon good. 74. Natural law is the same as natural power; it is that which the laws of na- ture, that is, the order of the world, give to each individual. Nothing is forbidden by this law except what no one desires or what no one can perform. Thus no one is bound to keep the faith he has plighted any longer than he will, and than he judg- es it useful to himself; for he has not lost the power of breaking it, and power is right in natural law. But he may easily perceive that the power of one man in a state of nature is limited by that of all the rest, and, in effect, is reduced to nothing, all men being naturally enemies to each other; while, on the other hand, by uni- ting their force, and establishing bounds by common consent to the natural powers of each, it becomes really more effective than while it was unlimited. This is the principle of civil government ; and now the distinctions of just and unjust, right and wrong, begin to appear. 75. The right of the supreme magistrate is nothing but the collective rights of the 356 citizens ; that is, their powers. Neither he nor they in their natural state ?an do wrong ; but, after the institution of gov- ernment, each citizen may do wrong by disobeying the magistrate ; that, in fact, being the test of wrong. He has not to inquire whether the commands of the su- preme power are just or unjust, pious or impious ; that is, as to action, for the state has no jurisdiction over his judgment. 76. Two independent states are natu- rally enemies, and may make war on each other when they please. If they make peace or alliance, it is no longer binding than the cause, that is, hope or fear in the contracting parties, shall endure. All this is founded on the universal law of nature, the desire of preserving ourselves ; which, whether men are conscious of it or no, an- imates all their actions. Spinosa in this, as in his other writings, is more fearless than Hobbes, and, though he sometimes may throw a light veil over his abjuration of moral and religious principle, it is fre- quently placed in a more prominent view than his English precursor in the same system had deemed it secure to advance. Yet so slight is often the connexion be- tween theoretical tenets and human prac- tice, that Spinosa bore the character of a virtuous and benevolent man. We do not know, indeed, how far he was placed in circumstances to put his fidelity to the test. In this treatise of politics, especial- ly in the broad assertion that good faith is only to be preserved so long as it is advan- tageous, he leaves Machiavel and Hobbes at some distance, and may be reckoned the most phlegmatically impudent of the whole school. 77. The contract or fundamental laws, he proceeds, according to which the mul- titude transfers its right to a king or sen- ate, may unquestionably be broken, when it is advantageous to the whole to do so. But Spinosa denies to private citizens the right of judging concerning the public good in such a point, reserving, apparently, to the supreme magistrate an ultimate power of breaking the conditions upon which he was chosen. Notwithstanding this dan- gerous admission, he strongly protests against intrusting absolute power to any one man ; and observes, in answer to the common argument of the stability of des- potism, as in the instance of the Turkish monarchy, that if barbarism, slavery, and desolation are to be called peace, nothing can be more wretched than peace itself. Nor is this sole power of one man a thing so possible as we imagine ; the kings who seem most despotic trusting the public safety and their own to counsellors and favourites, often the worst and weakest in the state. 78. He next proceeds to his scheme of a well-regulated monarchy, His theory of which is in some measure ori- a monarchy, ginal and ingenious. The people are to be divided into families, by which he seems to mean something like the Qparptai of Attica. From each of these, counsellors, fifty years of age, are to be chosen by the king, succeeding in a rotation quinquen- nial or less, so as to form a numerous senate. This assembly is to be consulted upon all public affairs, and the king is to be guided by its unanimous opinion. In case, however, of disagreement, the dif ferent propositions being laid before the king, he may choose that of the minority, provided at least one hundred counsellors have recommended it. The less remark- able provisions of this ideal polity it would be waste of time to mention, except that he advises that all the citizens should be armed as a militia, and that the* principal towns should be fortified, and, consequent- ly, as it seems, in their power. A mon- archy thus constituted would probably not degenerate into the despotic form. Spi- nosa appeals to the ancient government of Aragon as a proof of the possibility of carrying his theory into execution. 79. From this imaginary monarchy he comes to an aristocratical republic. In this he seems to have taken Venice, the idol of theoretical politicians, as his pri- mary model, but with such deviations as affect the whole scheme of government. He objects to the supremacy of an elective doge, justly observing that the precautions adopted in the election of that magistrate show the danger of the office itself, which was rather retained in the aristocratical polity as an ancient institution than from any persuasion of its usefulness. But the most remarkable discrepance between the aristocracy of Spinosa and that of Venice is that his great council, which ought, as he strongly urges, not to consist of less than 5000, the greatness of its numbers being the only safeguard against the close oligarchy of a few families, is not to be hereditary, but its vacancies to be filled up by self-election. In this election, in- deed, he considers the essence of aristoc- racy to consist, being, as is implied in its meaning, a government by the best, who can only be pronounced such by the choice of many. It is singular that he never ad- verts to popular representation, of which he must have known examples. Democ- racy, on the contrary, he defines to be a government where political power falls to men by chance of birth, or by some means FROM 1650 TO 1700. which has rendered them citizens, and who can claim it as their right without re- gard to the choice of others. And a de- mocracy, according to Spinosa, may exist, if the law should limit this privilege of power to the seniors in age, or to the el- der branches of families, or to those who pay a certain amount in taxation, although the numbers enjoying it should be a small- er portion of the community than in an aristocracy of the form he has recom- mended. His treatise breaks off near the beginning of the chapters intended to de- lineate the best model of democracy, which he declares to be one wherein all persons, in their own power, and not infamous by crime, should have a share in the public government. I do not know that it can be inferred from the writings of Spinosa, nor is his authority, perhaps, sufficient to render the question of any interest, to which of the three plans devised by him, as the best in their respective forms, he would have ascribed the preference. 80. The condition of France under Louis Ameiot de la XIV. was not very tempting to Houssaye. speculators on political theory. Whatever short remarks may be found in those excellent writers on other subjects who distinguish this period, we can select no one book that falls readily into this class. For Telemaque we must find an- other place. It is scarcely worth while to mention the political discourses on Tacitus, by Ameiot de la Houssaye. These are a tedious and pedantic running com- mentary on Tacitus, affecting to deduce general principles, but much unlike the short and poignant observations of Machi- avel and Bacon. A whole volume on the reign alone of Tiberius, and printed at Paris, is not likely to repay a reader's trouble ; at least, I have found nothing in it above the common level. I have no acquaintance with the other political wri- tings of Ameiot de la Houssaye, one of those who thought they could make great discoveries by analyzing the constitution of Venice and other states. 81. England, thrown at the commence- Harrington's ment of this period upon the re- Oceana. sources of her own invention to replace an ancient monarchy by something new, and rich at that time in reflecting as well as learned men, with an unshackled press, and a growing disdain of authority as opposed to argument, was the natural soil of political theory. The earliest fruit was Sir James Harrington's Oceana, pub- lished in 1656. This once famous book is a political allegory, partly suggested, per- haps, by the Dodona's Grove of Howell, or by Barclay's Argenis, and a few other 357 fictions of the preceding age. His Oceana represents England, the history of which is shadowed out with fictitious names. But this is preliminary to the great object, the scheme of a new commonwealth, which, under the auspices of Olphaus Megaletor, the lord archon, meaning, of course, Cromwell, not as he was, but as he ought to have been, the author feigns to have been established. The various laws and constitutions of this polity occupy the whole work. 82. The leading principle of Harrington is that power depends on property; deny- ing the common saying, that knowledge or prudence is power. But this property must be in land, " because, as to property producing empire, it is required that it should have some certain root or foothold, which, except in land, it cannot have, being otherwise, as it were, upon the wing. Nevertheless, in such cities as subsist mostly by trade, and have little or no land, as Holland and Genoa, the balance of treasure may be equal to that of land."* The law fixing the balance of lands is called by him agrarian ; and without an agrarian law, he holds that no government, whether monarchical, aristocratic, or popu- lar, has any long duration : this is rather paradoxical ; but his distribution of lands varies according to the form of the com- monwealth. In one best constituted the possession of lands is limited to 2000 a year ; which, of course, in his time was a much greater estate than at present. 83. Harrington's general scheme of a good government is one " established upon an equal agrarian arising into the super- structure, or three orders, the senate de- bating and proposing, the people resolving, and the magistracy executing by an equal rotation through the suffrage of the people given by the ballot." His more particular form of polity, devised for his Oceana, it would be tedious to give in detail ; the re- sult is a moderate aristocracy; property, though under the control of his agrarian, which prevents its excess, having so great a share in the elections that it must pre- dominate. But it is an aristocracy of what we should call the middle ranks, and might not be unfit for a small state. In general it may be said of Harrington, that he is prolix, dull, pedantic, yet seldom profound ; but sometimes redeems himself by just observations. Like most theoreti- cal politicians of that age, he had an ex- cessive admiration for the republic of Venice.f His other political writings are * P. 38, edit. 1771. t " If I be worthy to give advice to a man that 358 LITERATURE OF EUROPE in the same spirit as the Oceana, but still less interesting. 84. The manly republicanism of Har- Patriarchaof rington, though sometimes vis- Fiimer. ionary and perhaps impractica- ble, shines by comparison with a very op- posite theory, which, having been coun- tenanced in the early part of the century by our clergy, revived with additional favour after the Restoration. This was maintained in the Patriarcha of Sir Robert Filmer, written, as it appears, in the reign of Charles I., but not published till 1680, at a time when very high notions of royal prerogative were as well received by one faction as they were indignantly rejected by another. The object, as the author declares, was to prove that the first kings were fathers of families ; that it is un- natural for the people to govern or to choose governors ; that positive laws do not infringe the natural and fatherly power of kings. He refers the tenet of natural liberty and the popular origin of govern- ment to the schoolmen, allowing that all papists and the reformed divines have im- bibed it, but denying that it is found in the fathers. He seems, indeed, to claim the credit of an original hypothesis ; those who have vindicated the rights of kings in most points not having thought of this, but with one consent admitted the natural liberty and equality of mankind. It is certain, nevertheless, that the patriarchal theory of government as the basis of actual right was laid down as explicitly as by himself in what is called Bishop Overall's Convocation Book, at the beginning of the reign of James I. But this book had not been published when Filmer wrote. His arguments are singularly insufficient ; he quotes nothing but a few irrelevant texts from Genesis ; he seems not to have known at all the strength, whatever it may be, of his own case, and it is hardly possible to find a more trifling and feeble work. It had, however, the advantage of opportunity to be received by a party with approbation. 85. Algernon Sidney was the first who Sidney's Dis- devoted his time to a refutation courses on of this patriarchal theory, pro- Government. pounded as it W3S) not as a piau- sible hypothesis to explain the origin of civil communities, but as a paramount title, by virtue of which all actual sover- eigns, who were not manifest usurpers, were to reign with an unmitigated despo- tism. Sidney's Discourses on Govern- would study politics, let him understand Venice ; he that understands Venice right shall go nearest to judge, notwithstanding the difference that is in every policy, right of any government in the world." Works, p. 292. ment, not published till 1698, are a diffuse reply to Filmer. They contain, indeed, many chapters full of historical learning and judicious reflection ; yet the constant anxiety to refute that which needs no refutation renders them a little tedious. Sidney does not condemn a limited mon- archy like the English, but his partiality is for a form of republic which would be deemed too aristocratical for our popular theories. 86. Locke, immediately after the rev- olution, attacked the Patriarcha j^e o with more brevity, and laid down Govern- his own celebrated theory of gov- ment- ernment. The fundamental principle of Filmer is, that paternal authority is nat- urally absolute. Adam received it from God, exercised it over his own children, and transmitted it to the eldest born for ever. This assumption Locke combats rather too diffusely according to our no- tions. Filmer had not only to show this absolute monarchy of a lineal ancestor, but his power of transmitting it in course of primogeniture. Locke denies thai there is any natural right of this kind, maintaining the equality of children. The incapacity of Filmer renders his discomfi- ture not difficult. Locke, as will be seen, acknowledges a certain de facto authority in fathers of families, and possibly he might have found, as indeed he seems to admit, considerable traces of a regard to primogeniture in the early ages of the world. It is the question of natural right with which he is here concerned ; and as no proof of this had been offered, he had nothing to answer. 87. In the second part of Locke's Trea- tise on Civil Government, he proceeds to lay down what he holds to be the true principles upon which society is founded. A state of nature is a state of perfect free- dom and equality, but within the bounds of the law of nature, which obliges every one, and renders a state of liberty no state of license. And the execution of this law, in such a state, is put into everyone's hands, so that he may punish transgressors against it, not merely by way of repara- tion for his own wrongs, but for those of others. " Every offence that can be com- mitted in the state of nature may, in the state of nature, be punished equally, and as far forth, as it may in a common- wealth." And not only independent com- munities, but all men, as he thinks, till they voluntarily enter into some society, are in a state of nature.* 88. Whoever declares by word or ac- * L. ii., c. 2. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 359 tion a settled design against another's life, puts himself in a state of war against him, and exposes his own life to be taken away, either by the other party or by any one who shall espouse his cause. And he who endeavours to obtain absolute power over another, may be construed to have a design on his life, or, at least, to take away his property. Where laws pre- vail, they must determine the punishment of those who injure others ; but if the law is silenced, it is hard to think but that the appeal to Heaven returns, and the aggres- sor may be treated as one in a state of war.* 89. Natural liberty is freedom from any superior power except the law of nature. Civil liberty is freedom from the dominion going pages. It is no less contrasted with the puerile rant of Rousseau against all territorial property. That property owes its origin to occupancy accompanied with labour, is now generally admitted; the care of cattle being of course to be con- sidered as one species of labour, and re- quiring at least a temporary ownership of the soil.* 91. Locke, after acutely remarking that the common arguments for the power of a father over his children would extend equally to the mother, so that it should be called parental power, reverts to the train of reasoning in the first book of this trea- tise against the regal authority of fathers. What they possess is not derived from generation, but from the care they neces- of any authority except that which alegis- i sarily take of the infant child, and during lature, established by consent of the com- his minority ; the power then terminates, monwealth, shall confirm. No man, ac- though reverence, support, arid even corn- cording to Locke, cai; by his own consent enslave himself, or give power to another to take away his life. For slavery, in a strict sense, is but a continuance of the state of war between a conqueror and his captive, f 90. The excellent chapter on property which follows would be sufficient, if all Locke's other writings had perished, to leave him a high name in philosophy. Nothing can be more luminous than his deduction of the natural right of property from labour, not merely in gathering the fruits of the earth, or catching wild an- imals, but in the cultivation of land, for which occupancy is but the preliminary, and gives, as it were, an incoherent title. "As much land as a man tills, plants, im- proves, cultivates, and can use the pro- duct of, so much is his property. He by his labour does, as it were, enclose it from the common." Whatever is beyond the scanty limits of individual or family la- bour, has been appropriated under the au- thority of civil society. But labour is the primary basis of natural right. Nor can it be thought unreasonable that labour should confer an exclusive right, when it is remembered how much of everything's value depends upon labour alone, ever bread is more worth than What- acorns, wine than water, and cloth or silk than leaves, skins, or moss, that is wholly ow- ing to labour and industry." The superi- ority in good sense and satisfactory eluci- dation of his principle, which Locke has manifested in this important chapter over Grotius and Puffendorf, will strike those who consult those writers, or look at the pliance are still due. Children are also held in subordination to their parents by the institutions of property, which com- monly make them dependant both as to maintenance and succession. But Locke, which is worthy to be remarked, inclines to derive the origin of civil government from the patriarchal authority ; one not strictly coercive, yet voluntarily conceded by habit and family consent. " Thus the natural fathers of families, by an insensi- ble change, became the politic monarchs of them too ; and as they chanced to live long, and leave worthy and able heirs for several successions or otherwise, so they laid the foundations of hereditary or elec- tive kingdoms."! 92. The necessity that man should not live alone produced the primary society of husband and wife, parent and children, to which that of master and servant was early added ; whether of freemen enga- ging their service for hire, or of slaves ta- ken in just war, who are by the right of nature subject to the absolute dominion of the captor. Such a family may some- times resemble a little commonwealth by its numbers, but is essentially distinct from one, because its chief has no impe- rial power of life and death except over his slaves, nature having given him none over his children, though all men have a right to punish breaches of the law of na- ture in others according to the offence. But this natural power they quit and re- sign into the hands of the community when civil society is instituted ; and it is in this union of the several rights of its members that the legislative right of the brief sketch of their theories in the fore- commonwealth consists, whether this be * C. 3. t C.4. * C. 5. t C. 6. 360 LITERATURE OF EUROPE done by general consent at the first for- mation of government, or by the adhesion which any individual may give to one al- ready established. By either of these ways men pass from a state of nature to one of political society, the magistrate having now that power to redress injuries which had previously been each man's right. Hence absolute monarchy, in Locke's opinion, is no form of civil gov- ernment; for, there being no common authority to appeal to, the sovereign is still in a state of nature with regard to his subjects.* 93. A community is formed by the unanimous consent of any body of men ; but, when thus become one body, the de- termination of the majority must bind the rest, else it would not be one. Unanimi- ty, after a community is once formed, can no longer be required ; but this consent of men to form a civil society is that which alone did or could give beginning to any lawful government in the wofld. It is idle to object that we have no records of such an event ; for few commonwealths preserve the tradition of their own infan- cy ; and whatever we do know of the ori- gin of particular states gives indications of this mode of union. Yet he again in- clines to deduce the usual origin of civil societies from imitation of patriarchal au- thority, which, having been recognised by each family in the. arbitration of disputes, and even punishment of offences, was transferred with more readiness to some one person, as the father and representa- tive head of the infant community. He even admits that this authority might ta- citly devolve upon the eldest son. Thus the first governments were monarchies, and those with no express limitations of power, till exposure of its abuse gave oc- casion to social laws or to co-ordinate authority. In all this he follows Hooker, from the first book of whose Ecclesiasti- cal Polity he quotes largely in his notes. f 94. A difficulty commonly raised against the theory of compact is, that all men be- ing born under some government, they cannot be at liberty to erect a new one, or even to make choice whether they will obey or no. This objection Locke does not meet, like Hooker and the jurists, by supposing the agreement of a distant an- cestor to oblige all his posterity. But, explicitly acknowledging that nothing can bind freemen to obey any government save their own consent, he rests the evi- dence of a tacit consent on the enjoyment of land, or even on mere residence within the dominions of the community ; every man being at liberty to relinquish his pos- sessions or change his residence, and ei- ther incorporate himself with another commonwealth, or, if he can find an op- portunity, set up for himself in some un- occupied part of the world. But nothing can make a man irrevocably a member of one society except his own voluntary declaration ; such, perhaps, as the oath of allegiance, which Locke does not men- tion, ought to be reckoned.* 95. The majority having, in the first constitution of a state, the whole power, may retain it themselves, or delegate it to one or more persons. f And the supreme power is, in other words, the legislature, sacred and unalterable in the hands where the community have once placed it, with- out which no law can exist, and in which all obedience terminates. Yet this legis- lative authority itself is not absolute or arbitrary over the lives and fortunes of its subjects. It is the joint power of individ- uals surrendered to the state ; but no man has power over his own life or his neigh- bour's property. The laws enacted by the legislature must be conformable to the will of God or natural justice. Nor can it take any part of the subject's property without his own consent or that of the majority. " For if any one shall claim a power to lay and levy taxes on the people by his own authority and without such consent of the people, he thereby invades the fundamental law of property, and sub- verts the end of government. For what property have I in that which another may by right take, when he pleases, to him- self?" Lastly, the legislative power is inalienable ; being but delegated from the people, it cannot be transferred to others. J This is the part of Locke's treatise which has been open to most objection, and which, in some measure, seems to charge with usurpation all the established gov- ernments of Europe. It has been a theo- ry fertile of great revolutions, and per- haps pregnant with more. In some part of this chapter also, though by no means in the most practical corollaries, the lan- guage of Hooker has led onward his more hardy disciple. 96. Though the legislative power is alone supreme in the constitution, it is yet subject to the people themselves, who may alter it whenever they find that it acts against the trust reposed in it ; all power given in trust for a particular end being evidently forfeited when that end is manifestly disregarded or obstructed. C. 7. tC.8. * c. e. t c. 10. \ c. 11. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 361 But while the government subsists the legislature is alone sovereign, though it may be the usage to call a single execu- tive magistrate a sovereign, if he has also a share in legislation. Where this is not the case, the appellation is plainly im- proper. Locke has in this chapter a re- markable passage ; one, perhaps, of the first declarations in favour of a change in the electoral system of England. " To what gross absurdities the following of custom, when reason has left it, may lead, we may be satisfied when we see the bare name of a town, of which there remains not so much as the ruins ; where scarce so much housing as a sheepcote, or more inhabitants than a shepherd is to be found, send as many representatives to the grand assembly of lawmakers as a whole coun- ty, numerous in people, and powerful in riches. This strangers stand amazed at, and, every one must confess, needs a rem- edy, though most think it hard to find one, because the constitution of the legis- lative being the original and supreme act of the society, antecedent to all positive laws in it, and depending wholly on the people, no inferior power can alter it." But Locke is less timid about a remedy, and suggests that the executive magis- trate might regulate the number of repre- sentatives, not according to old custom, but reason ; which is not setting up a new legislature, but restoring an old one. " Whatsoever shall be done manifestly for the good of the people and the estab- lishing the government on its true found- ation, is, and always will be, just preroga- tive ;"* a maxim of too dangerous lati- tude for a constitutional monarchy. 97. Prerogative he defines to be " a power of acting according to discretion for the public good without the prescrip- tion of the law, and sometimes even against it." This, however, is not by any means a good definition in the eyes of a lawyer ; and the word, being merely tech- nical, ought not to have been employed in so partial, if not so incorrect, a sense. Nor is it very precise to say that in Eng- land the prerogative was always largest in the hands of our wisest and best princes, not only because the fact is otherwise, but because he confounds the legal preroga- tive with its actual exercise. This chap- ter is the most loosely reasoned of any in the treatise.f 98. Conquest, in an unjust war, can give no right at all, unless robbers and pirates may acquire a right. Nor is any one bound by promises which unjust force extorts from him. If we are not strong enough to resist, we have no remedy save pa- tience ; but our children may appeal to Heaven, and repeat their appeals till they recover their ancestral rights, which was to be governed by such a legislation as themselves approve. He that appeals to Heaven must be sure that he has right on his side, and right, top, that is worth the trouble and cost of his appeal, as he will answer at a tribunal that cannot be de- ceived. Even just conquest gives no far- ther right than to reparation of injury .; and the posterity of the vanquished, he seems to hold, can forfeit nothing by then parent's offence, so that they have alwayj. a right to throw off the yoke. The title of prescription, which has commonly been admitted to silence the complaints, if not to heal the wounds, of the injured, finds no favour with Locke.* And hence it seems that no state composed, as most have been, out of the spoils of conquest, can exercise a legitimate authority over the latest posterity of those it has incor- porated. Wales, for instance, has an eter nal right to shake off the yoke of Eng land ; for what Locke says of consent to laws by representatives is of little weight when these must be outnumbered in the general legislature of both countries ; and, indeed, the first question for the Cambro- Britons would be to determine whether they would form part of such a common legislation. 99. Usurpation, which is a kind of do- mestic conquest, gives no more right to obedience than unjust war; it is necessary that the people should both be at liberty to consent, and have actually consented to allow and confirm a power which the con- stitution of their commonwealth does not recognise.f But tyranny may exist with- out usurpation, whenever the power re- posed in any one's hands for the people's benefit is abused to their impoverishment or slavery. Force may never be opposed but to unjust and unlawful force ; in any other case, it is condemned before God and man. The king's person" is in some countries sacred by law ; but this, as Locke thinks, does not extend to the case where, by putting himself in a state of war with his people, he dissolves the gov- ernment.J A prince dissolves the govern- ment by ruling against law, by hindering the regular assembly of the legislature, by changing the form of election, or by rendering the people subject to a foreign power. He dissolves it also by neglect- ing or abandoning it, so that the laws can * C. 13. VOL. II. Z z t c. u. C. 16. t C. 17. C. 18 362 LITERATURE OF EUROPE not be put into execution. The govern- ment is also dissolved by breach of trust iu either the legislature or the prince ; by the former, when it usurps an arbitrary power over the lives, liberties, and for- tunes of the subject ; by the latter, when he endeavours to corrupt the representa- tives, or to influence the choice of the electors. If it be objected that no gov- ernment will be able long to subsist if the people may set up a new legislature when- ever they take offence at the old one, he replies that mankind are too slow and averse to quit their old institutions for this danger to be apprehended. Much will be endured from rulers without mu- tiny or murmur. Nor is anything more likely to restrain governments than this doctrine of the right of resistance. It is as reasonable to tell men they should not defend themselves against robbers, be- cause it may occasion disorder, as to use the same argument for passive obedience to illegal dominion. And he observes, af- ter quoting some other writers, that Hook- er alone might be enough to satisfy those who rely on him for their ecclesiastical polity.* 100. Such is, in substance, the cele- Observations brated treatise of Locke on civil on tun trea- government, which, with the fa- vour of political circumstances and the authority of his name, became the creed of a numerous party at home ; while silently spreading the fibres from its roots over Europe and America, it prepared the way for theories of political society, hard- ly bolder in their announcement, but ex- pressed with more passionate ardour, from which the great revolutions of the last and present age have sprung. But as we do not. launch our bark upon a stormy sea, we shall merely observe that neither the Revolution of 1688, nor the administration of William III., could have borne the test by which Locke has tried the legitimacy of government. There was certainly no appeal to the people in the former, nor would it have been convenient for the lat- ter to have had the maxim established, that an attempt to corrupt the legislature entails a forfeiture of the intrusted power. Whether the opinion of Locke, that man- kind are slow to political change, be con- formable to an enlarged experience, must be judged by every one according to his reading and observation ; it is, at least, very different from that which Hooker, to whom he defers so greatly in most of his doctrine, has uttered in the very first sen- tence of his Ecclesiastical Polity. For my * C. 19. own part I must confess, that in these lat ter chapters of Locke on Government I see, what sometimes appears in his other writings, that the influence of temporary circumstances on a mind a little too sus- ceptible of passion and resentment, had prevented that cairn and patient examina- tion of all the bearings of this extensive subject which true philosophy requires. 101. But, whatever may be our judgment of this work, it is equally true that it open- ed a new era of political opinion in Eu- rope. The earlier writings on the side of popular sovereignty, whether those of Bu- chanan and Languet, of the Jesuits, or of the English republicans, had been either too closely dependant on temporary cir- cumstances, or too much bound up with odious and unsuccessful factions, to sink very deep into the hearts of mankind. Their adversaries, with the countenance of every government on their side, kept possession of the field ; and neither jurist, nor theologian, nor philosopher on the Continent, while they generally followed their predecessors in deriving the origin of civil society from compact, ventured to meet the delicate problem of resistance to tyranny, or of the right to reform a con- stitution, except in the most cautious and indefinite language. We have seen this already in Grotius and Puffendorf. But the success of the English Revolution; the necessity which the powers allied against France found of maintaining the title of William ; the peculiar interest of Holland and Hanover, states at that time very strong in the literary world, in our new scheme of government, gave a weight and authority to principles which, with- out some such application, it might still have been thought seditious to propound. Locke, too, long an exile in Holland, was intimate with Le Clerc, who exerted a considerable influence over the Protestant part of Europe. Barbeyrac, some time afterward, trod nearly in the same steps, and, without going all the lengths of Locke, did not fail to take a very different tone from the two older writers upon whom he has commented. 102. It was very natural that the French Protestants, among whom tradi- Avis aux tions of a turn of thinking not the Refus^z, most favourable to kings may have ^ r ^ p ,| e been preserved, should, in the hour of severe persecution, mutiny in words and writings against the despotism that oppressed them. Such, it appears, had been the language of those exiles, as it is of all exiles, when an anonymous tract, entitled Avis aux Refugiez, was published with the date of Amsterdam in 1690. This, FROM 1650 TO 1700. 363 under pretext of giving advice, in the event of their being permitted to return home, that they should get rid of their spirit of satire and of their republican theories, is a bitter and able attack on those who had taken refuge in Holland. It asserts the principle of passive obe- dience, extolling also the King of France and his government, and censuring the English Revolution. Public rumour as- cribed this to Bayle ; it has usually passed for his, and is even inserted in the collec- tion of his miscellaneous works. Some, however, have ascribed it to Pelisson, and others to Larroque ; one already, and the other soon after, proselytes to the Church of Rome. Basnage thought it written by the latter, and published by Bayle, to whom he ascribed the preface. This is apparently in a totally opposite strain, but not without strong suspicion of irony or ill faith. The style and manner through- out appear to suggest Bayle ; and, though the supposition is very discreditable to his memory, the weight of presumption seems much to incline that way. 103. The separation of political econ- Poiiticai omy from the general science economists, which regards the well-being of j communities was not so strictly made by the earlier philosophers as in modern times. It does not follow that national wealth en- gaged none of their attention. Few, on the contrary, of those who have taken comprehensive views, could have failed to regard it. In Bodin, Botero, Bacon, Hobbes. Puffendorf, Locke, we have al- ready seen proofs of this. These may be said to have discussed the subject, not systematically, nor always with thorough knowledge, but with acuteness and in a philosophical tone. Others there were of a more limited range, whose habits of life and experience led them to particular de- partments of economical inquiry, espe- cially as to commerce, the precious met- als, and the laws affecting them. The Italians led the way ; Serra has been men- tioned in a former part of this volume, and a few more might find a place here. Ds Witt's Interest of Holland can hardly be reckoned among economical writings ; and it is said by Morhof that the Dutch were not fond of promulgating their com- mercial knowledge ;* little, at least, was contributed from that country, even at a later period, towards the theory of becom- iug rich. But England now took a large share in this new literature. Free, inquis- itive, thriving rapidly in commerce, so that ner progress even in the nineteenth cen- * Polyhistor, part iii., lib. iii., $ 3. tury has hardly been in a greater ratio than before and after the middle of the seventeenth, if we niay trust the state- ments of contemporaries, she produced some writers who, though few of them merit the name of philosophers, may yet not here be overlooked, on account of their influence, their reputation, or their position as links in the chain of science. 104. The first of these was Thomas Mun, an intelligent merchant in MunonFor the earlier part of the centu- ei s n trade - ry, whose posthumous treatise, England's Treasure by Foreign Trade, was publish- ed in 1664, but seems to have been writ- ten soon after the accession of Charles I.* Mun is generally reckoned the founder of what has been called the mercantile sys- tem. His main position is, that " the or- dinary means to increase our wealth and treasure is by foreign trade, wherein we must ever observe this rule, to sell more to strangers yearly than we consume of theirs in value. "f We must, therefore, sell as cheap as possible ; it was by un- derselling the Venetians of late years that we had exported a great deal of cloth to Turkey. | It is singular that Mun should not have perceived the difficulty of selling very cheap the productions of a country's labour, whose gold and silver were in great abundance. lie was, however, too good a merchant not to acknowledge the ineffi- cacy and impolicy of restraining by law the exportation of coin, which is often a means of increasing our treasure in the long run ; advising instead a due regard to the balance of trade, or general surplus of exported goods, by which we shall in- fallibly obtain a stock of gold and silver. These notions have long since been cov- ered with ridicule ; and it is plain that, in a merely economical view, they must al- ways be delusive. Mun, however, looked to the accumulation of a portion of this imported treasure by the state ; a resource in critical emergencies which we have now learned to despise, since others have been at hand, but which, in reality, had made a great difference in the events of war, and changed the balance of power between many commonwealths. Mun was Child on followed, about 1670, by Sir Josiah Trade - Child, in a discourse on Trade, written on the same principles of the mercantile sys- tem, but more copious and varied. The chief aim of Child is to effect a reduction of the legal interest of money from six to Mr. Maculloch says (Introductory Discourse to Smith's Wealth of Nations), it had most probably been written about 1635 or 1640. I remarked some things which serve to carry it up a litlle higher. t P. 11 (edit. 1664). t P- 18. 364 LITERATURE OF EUROPE four per cent., drawing an erroneous in- ference from the increase of wealth which had followed similar enactments. 105. Among the many difficulties with Locke on which the government of William the coin. jji. had to contend, one of the most embarrassing was the scarcity of the precious metals and depreciated con- dition of the coin. This opened the whole field of controversy in that province of political economy ; and the bold spirit of inquiry, unshackled by prejudice in favour of ancient custom, which in all respects was characteristic of that age, began to work by reasonings on general theorems instead of collecting insulated and inconclusive de- tails. Locke stood forward on this, as on so many subjects, with his masculine sense and habitual closeness of thinking. His " Considerations of the Consequences of lowering Interest and raising the Value of Money" were published in 1691. Two farther treatises are in answer to the pamphlets of Lowndes. These economi- cal writings of Locke are not in all points conformable to the modern principles of the science. He seems to incline rather too much towards the mercantile theory, and to lay too much stress on the possess- ion of the precious metals. From his ex- cellent sense, however, as well as from some expressions, I should conceive that he only considers them, as they doubtless are, a portion of the exchangeable wealth of the nation, and by their inconsumable nature, as well as by the constancy of the demand for them, one of the most impor- tant. " Riches do not consist," he says, " in having more gold and silver, but in having more in proportion than the rest of the world or than our neighbours, where- by we are enabled to procure to ourselves a greater plenty of the conveniences of life." 106. Locke had the sagacity to perceive the impossibility of regulating the interest of money by law. It was an empirical proposition at that time, as we have just seen in Sir Josiah Child, to render loans more easy to the borrower by reducing the legal rate to four per cent. The whole drift of his reasoning is against any limi- tation, though, from fear of appearing too paradoxical, he does not arrive at that in- ference. For the reasons he gives in fa- vour of a legal limit of interest, namely, that courts of law may have some rule where nothing is stipulated in the contract, and that a few money-lenders in the me- tropolis may not have the monopoly of all loans in England, are, especially the first, so trifling, that he could not have relied upon them ; and, indeed, he admits that, in other circumstances, there would be no danger from the second. But his pru- dence having restrained him from speak- ing out, a famous writer, almost a cen- tury afterward, came forward to assert a paradox, which he loved the better for seeming such, and finally to convince the thinking part of mankind. 107. Laws fixing the value of silver Locke conceived to be nugatory, and is averse to prohibit its exportation. The value of money, he maintains, does not de- pend on the rate of interest, but on its plenty relatively to commodities. Hence the rate of interest, he thinks, but perhaps erroneously, does not govern the price of land ; arguing from the higher rate of land relatively to money, that is, the worse in- terest it gave, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, than in his own time. But one of Locke's positions, if generally received, would alone have sufficed to lower the value of land. " It is in vain," he says, " in a country whose great fund is land, to ho~pe to lay the public charges of the government on anything else ; there at last it will terminate." The legislature soon proceeded to act on this mistaken theory in the annual land-tax ; an impost of tremendous severity at that time, the gross unfairness, however, of which has been compensated in later times by the taxes on personal succession. 108. In such a monetary crisis as that of his time, Locke was naturally obliged to consider the usual resource of raising the denomination of the coin. This, he truly says, would be to rob all creditors of such a proportion of their debts. It is probable that his influence, which was very considerable, may have put a stop to the scheme. He contends in his Further Considerations, in answer to a tract by Lowndes, that clipped money should go only by weight. This seems to have been agreed by both parties ; but Lowndes thought the loss should be defrayed by a tax, Locke that it should fall on the hold- ers. Honourably for the government, the former opinion prevailed. 109. The Italians were the first who laid anything like a foundation for sta- statistical tistics or political arithmetic ; that tracts - which is to the political economist what general history is to the philosopher. But their numerical reckonings of population, houses, value of lands or stock, and the like, though very curious, and sometimes taken from public documents, were not al- ways more than conjectural, nor are they so full and minute as the spirit of calcula- tion demands. England here again took the lead, in Graunt's Observations on the* FROM 1650 TO 1700. 36b Bills of Mortality, 1661, in Petty's Politi- cal Arithmetic (posthumous in 1691), and other treatises of the same ingenious and philosophical person, and, we may add, in the Observations of Gregory King on the Natural and Political State of England; for, though these were not published till near the end of the eighteenth century, the \ manuscripts had fallen into the hands of Dr. Charles Davenant, who has made ex- tracts from them in his own valuable con- tributions to political arithmetic. King seems to have possessed a sagacity which has sometimes brought his conjectures nearer to the mark than from the imper- fection of his data it was reasonable to ex- pect. Yet he supposes that the popula- tion of England, which he estimated, per- haps rightly, at five millions and a half, would not reach the double of that num- ber before A.D. 2300. Sir William Petty, with a mind capable of just and novel the- ories, was struck by the necessary conse- quences of a uniformly progressive pop- ulation. Though the rate of movement seemed to him, as in truth it was, much slower than we have latterly found it, he clearly saw that its continuance would, in an ascertainable length of time, overload the world. " And then, according to the prediction of the Scriptures, there must be Avars and great slaughter." He conceived that, in the ordinary course of things, the population of a country would be doubled in two hundred years ; but the whole con- ditions of the problem were far less under- stood than at present. Davenant's Essay on Ways and Means, 1693, gained him a high reputation, which he endeavoured to augment by many subsequent, works, some falling within the seventeenth century. He was a man of more enlarged reading than his predecessors, with the exception of Petty, and of close attention to the sta- tistical documents, which are now more copiously published than before ; but he seldom launches into any extensive the- ory, confining himself rather to the accu- mulation of facts and to the immediate in- ferences, generally for temporary purpo- ses, which they supplied. SECT. III. ON JURISPRUDENCE. 110. IN 1667, a short book was published works of at Frankfort, by a young man Leibnitz, on of twenty-two years, entitled Roman law. Metho( ji N ova? discendae docen- daeque Jurisprudent. The science which of all had been deemed to require the most protracted labour, the ripest judgment, the most experienced discrimination, was, as it were, invaded by a boy, but by one who had the genius of an Alexander, and for whom the glories of an Alexander were reserved. This is the first produc- tion of Leibnitz ; and it is probably, in many points of view, the most remarkable work that has prematurely united erudi- tion and solidity. We admire in it the vast range of learning (for, though he could not have read all the books he names, there is evidence of his acquaintance with a great number, and, at least, with a well- filled chart of literature), the originality of some ideas, the commanding and compre hensive views he embraces, the philo- sophical spirit, the compressed style in which it is written, the entire absence of juvenility, of ostentatious paradox,* of im- agination, ardour, and enthusiasm, which, though Leibnitz did not always want them, would have been wholly misplaced on such a subject. Faults have been cen- sured in this early performance, and the author declared himself afterward dissat- isfied with it.f 111. Leibnitz was a passionate admirer of the Roman jurisprudence ; he held the great lawyers of antiquity second only to the best geometers for strong, and subtle, and profound reasoning ; not even ac- knowledging, to any considerable degree, the contradictions (antinomies juris) which had perplexed their disciples in later times, and on which many volumes had been written. But the arrangement of Justinian he entirely disapproved ; and in another work, Corporis Juris reconcin- nandi Ratio, published in 1668, he pointed out the necessity, and what he deemed the best method of a new distribution. This appears to be not quite like what he had previously sketched, and which was rather * I use the epithet ostentatious because some of his original theories are a little paradoxical ; thus he has a singular notion that the right of bequeath- ing property by testament is derived from the immor- tality of the soul ; the living heirs being, as it were, the attorneys of those we suppose to be dead. Quia mortui revera adhuc vivunt, ideo manent domini re- rum, quos vero hsredes reliquerunt, concipiendi sunt ut procuratores in rem suam. In our own dis- cussions on the law of entail, I am not aware that this argument, has ever been explicitly urged, though the advocates of perpetual control seem to have none better. t This tract, and all the other works of Leibnitz on jurisprudence, will be found in the fourth vol- ume of his works by Dutens. An analysis by Bon, professor of law at Turin, is prefixed to the Method! Novae, and he has pointed out a few errors. Leib- nitz says in a letter, about 1676, that his book was effusus potius quam script us, in itinere, sine libris, &c., and that it contained some things he no longer would have said, though there were others of which he did not repent. Lerminier, Hist, du Droit, p. 150. 366 LITERATURE OF EUROPE a philosophical than a very convenien method ;* in this new arrangement h proposes to retain the texts of the Corpu Juris Civilis, but in a form rather like tha of the Pandects than of the Institutes ; to the latter of which, followed as it has been among us by Hale and Blackstone, he was very averse. 112. There was only one man in the world who could have left so noble a science as philosophical jurisprudence for pursuits of a still more exalted nature, and for which he was still more fitted, and that man was Leibnitz himself. He passed onward to reap the golden harvests of other fields Yet the study of law has owed much to him ; he did much to unite; it with mora philosophy on the one hand, and with his- tory on the other ; a great master of both, he exacted, perhaps, a more comprehensive course of legal studies than the capacity of ordinary lawyers could grasp. In Eng- land, also, its conduciveness to profession- al excellence might be hard to prove. It is, however, certain that, in Germany at least, philology, history, and philosophy have, more or less since the time of Leib- nitz, marched together under the robe of law. " He did but pass over that king- dom," says Lerminier, "and he has re- formed and enlarged it."f 113. James Godefroy was thirty years Civil ju- en g a ? ed on an edition of the The- risis: odosian Code, published, several Godefroy. years after his death, in 1665. It is by far the best edition of that body of laws, and retains a standard value in the historical department of jurispru- dence. Domat, a French lawyer, and one of the Port-Royal connexion, in his Loix Civiles dans leur Ordre Naturel, the first of five volumes of which appeared in 1089, carried into effect the project of Leibnitz, by rearranging the laws of Justinian, which, especially the Pandects, are well known to be confusedly distributed, in a more regular method, prefixing a book of his own on the nature and spirit of law in general. This appears to be a useful di- gest or abridgment, something like those * In his Methodi Novae he divides law, in the di- kctic part, according to the several sources of fights; namely, 1. Nature, which gives us right over res millius, things where there is no prior property. 2. Succession. 3. Possession. 4. Con- .ract. 5. Injury, which gives right to reparation. t Biogr. Univ. Lerminier, Hist, du Droit, p. 142. made by Viner and earlier writers of our own texts, but, perhaps, with more com- pression and choice ; two editions of an English translation were published. Do- mat's Public Law, which might, perhaps, in our language, have been called consti- tutional, since we generally confine the epithet public to the law of nations, forms a second part of the same work, and con- tains a more extensive system, wherein theological morality, ecclesiastical ordi- nances, and the fundamental laws of the French monarchy are reduced into meth- od. Domat is much extolled by his coun- trymen ; but in philosophical jurispru- dence he seems to display little force or originality. Gravina. who obtained a high name in this literature at the beginning of the next century, was known merely as a professor at the close of this ; but a Dutch jurist, Gerard Noodt, may deserve N OO f nature, but for weak and unintelligible easons.* Treaties of peace extorted by njust force he denies with more reason o be binding, though Grotius had held he contrary.! The inferior writers on the aw of nations, or those who, like Wicque- ort in his Ambassador, confined them- elves to merely conventional usages, it is eedless to mention. * B. viii., chap. 7. t Chap. 8. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 367 CHAPTER V. HISTORY OF POETRY FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECT. I. ON ITALIAN POETRY. Filicaja. Guidi. Menzini. Arcadian Society. 1. THE imitators of Marini, full of ex- improved travagant metaphors, and the tone or itai- false thoughts usually callec tan poetry. conce tti, were in their vigour at the commencement of this period. But their names are now obscure, and have been overwhelmed by the change of pub- lic taste which has condemned and pro- scribed what it once most applauded. This change came on long before the close of the century, though not so deci- dedly but that some traces of the former manner are discoverable in the majority of popular writers. The general charac- teristics, however, of Italian poetry be- came a more masculine tone, a wider reach of topics, and a selection of the . most noble ; an abandonment, except in the lighter lyrics, of amatory strains, and especially of such as were languishing and querulous ; an anticipation, in short, as far as the circumstances of the age would permit, of that severe and elevated style which has been most affected for the last fifty years. It would be futile to seek an explanation of this manlier spirit in any social or political causes ; never had Italy, in these respects, been so life- less ; but the world of poets is often not the world around them, and their stream of living waters may flow,- like that of Arethusa, without imbibing much from the surrounding brine. Chiabrera had led the way by the Pindaric majesty of his odes, and had disciples of at least equal name with himself. 2. Florence was the mother of one who did most to invigorate Italian poe- Icaja try, Vincenzo Filicaja ; a man gift- ed with a serious, pure, and noble spirit, from which congenial thoughts spontane- ously arose, and with an imagination rath- er vigorous than fertile. The siege of Vienna in 1683, and its glorious deliver- ance by Sobieski, are the subjects of six odes. The third of these, addressed to the King of Poland himself, is generally most esteemed, though I do not perceive that the first or second are inferior. His ode to Rome, on Christina's taking up her residence there, is in many parts highly noetical ; but the flattery of representing this event as sufficient to restore the eter- nal city from decay is too gross. It is not, on the whole, so successful as those on the siege of Vienna. A better is that addressed to Florence on leaving her for a rural solitude, in consequence of his poverty and the neglect he had experien- ced. It breathes an injured spirit, some- thing like the complaint of Cowley, with which posterity are sure to sympathize. The sonnet of Filicaja, "Italia mia," is known by every one who cares for this poetry at all. This sonnet is conspicuous for its depth of feeling, for the spirit of its commencement, and, above all, for the noble lines with which it ends ; but there are surely awkward and feeble expres- sions in the intermediate part. Armenti for regiments of dragoons could only be excused by frequent usage in poetry, which, I presume, is not the case, though we find the same word in one of Filicaja's odes. A foreigner may venture upon this kind of criticism. 3. Filicaja was formed in the school of Chiabrera ; but, with his pomp of sound and boldness of imagery, he is animated by a deeper sense both of religion and pa- triotism. We perceive more the language of the heart ; the man speaks in his genu- ine character, not with assumed and mer- cenary sensibility, like that of Pindar and Chiabrera. His genius is greater than his skill; he abandons himself to an impetu- osity which he cannot sustain, forgetful of the economy of strength and breath, as necessary for a poet as a racehorse. He las rarely or never any conceits or frivo- .ous thoughts ; but the expression is some- times rather feeble. There is a general want of sunshine in Filicaja's poetry ; un- srosperous himself, he views nothing with a worldly eye ; his notes of triumph are without brilliancy, his predictions of suc- cess are without joy. He seems also deficient in the charms of grace and feli- ity. But his poetry is always the effu- sion of a fine soul : we venerate and love Filicaja as a man, but we also acknowl- dge that he was a real poet. 4. Guidi, a native of Pavia, raised him- self to the highest point that any CuW( yric poet of Italy has attained. His odes are written at Rome, from about the year 1685 to the end of the century. 368 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Compared with Chiabrera, or even Filica- ja, he may be allowed the superiority : if he never rises to a higher pitch than the latter, if he has never chosen subjects so animating, if he has never displayed so much depth and truth of feeling, his en- thusiasm is more constant, his imagina- tion more creative, his power of language more extensive and more felicitous. " He falls sometimes," says Corniani, " into ex- travagance, but never into affectation. . . . His peculiar excellence is poetical expres- sion, always brilliant with a light of his own. The magic of his language used to excite a lively movement among the hear- ers when he recited his verses in the Ar- cadian Society." Corniani adds that he is sometimes exuberant in words and hy- perbolical in images.* 5. The ode of Guidi on Fortune appears to me at least equal to any in the Italian language. If it has been suggested by that of Celio Magno, entitled Iddio, the resemblance does not deserve the name of imitation ; a nobleness of thought, im- agery, and language prevails throughout. But this is the character of all his odes. He chose better subjects than Chiabrera; lor the ruins of Rome are more glorious than the living house of Medici. He re- sembles him, indeed, rather than any oth- er poet, so that it might not always be easy to discern one from the other in a single stanza ; but Guidi is a bolder, a more imaginative, a more enthusiastic poet. Both adorn and amplify a little to excess ; and it may be imputed to Guidi that he has abused an advantage which his native language afforded. The Italian is rich in words, where the sound so well answers to the meaning, that it is hardly possible to hear them without an associa- ted sentiment : their effect is closely anal- ogous to musical expression. Such are the adjectives denoting mental elevation, as superbo, altiero, audace, gagliardo, in- domito, maestoso. These recur in the po- ems of Guidi with every noun that will admit of them ; but sometimes the artifice is a litttle too transparent, and, though the meaning is not sacrificed to sound, we feel that it is too much enveloped in it, and are not quite pleased that a great poet should rely so much on a resource which the most mechanical slave of music can employ. 6. The odes of Benedetto Menzini are Menzini e ^ e ' An ^ anc ^ m poetical language, but such as does not seem very original, nor do they strike us by much rigour or animation of thought. The al- * Vol. viii., p. 224. lusions to mythology, which we never find in Filicaja, and rarely in Guidi, are too frequent. Some are of considerable beau- ty, among which we may distinguish that addressed to Magalotti, beginning, " Un verde ramuscello in piaggia aprica." Men- zini was far from confining himself to this species of poetry ; he was better known in others. As an Anacreontic poet he stands, I believe, only below Chiabrera and Redi. His satires have been prefer- red by some to those of Ariosto ; but nei- ther Corniani nor Salfi acquiesce in this praise. Their style is a mixture of obso- lete phrases from Dante, with the idioms of the Florentine populace ; and, though spirited in substance, they are rather full of commonplace invective. Menzini strikes boldly at priests and governments ; and, what was dangerous to Orpheus, at the whole sex of women. His Art of Poetry, in five books, published in 1681, deserves some praise. As his atrabilious humour prompted, he inveighs against the corrup- tion of contemporary literature, especially on the stage ; ridiculing also the Pindaric pomp that some affected, not, perhaps, without allusion to his enemy Guidi. His own style is pointed, animated, sometimes poetical, where didactic verse will admit of such ornament, but a little too diffuse and minute in criticism. 7. These three are the great restorers of Italian poetry after the usurpa- s a i va tor tion of false taste. And it is to be Rosa. observed that they introduced a Redl- new manner, very different from that of the sixteenth century. Several others deserve to be mentioned, though we can only do so briefly. The Satires of Saiva- tor Rosa, full of force and vehemence, more vigorous than elegant, are such as his ardent genius and rather savage tem- per would lead us to expect. A far supe- rior poet was a man not less eminent than Saivator, the philosophical and every way accomplished Redi. Few have done so much in any part of science who have also shone so brightly in the walks of taste. The sonnets of Redi are esteem- ed ; but his famous dithyrambic, Bacco in Toscana, is admitted to be the first poem of that kind in modern language, and is as worthy of Monte Pulciano wine as the wine is worthy of it. 8. Maggi and Lemene bore an honoura- ble part in the restoration of po- O(her etry, though neither of them is reckoned altogether to have purified him- self from the infection of the preceding age. The sonnet of Pastorini on the imagined resistance of Genoa to the op- pression of Louis XIV. in 1684, though FROM 1650 TO 1700. 369 it borne out by historical truth, is one of those breathings of Italian nat onality which we always admire, and which had now become more common than for a century before. It must be confessed, in general, that when the protestations of a people against tyranny become loud enough to be heard, we may suspect that the tyranny has been relaxed. 9. Rome was to poetry in this age what Christina's Florence had once been, though patronage Rome had hitherto done less for of letters. t j ie Italian m uses than any other great city. Nor was this so much due to her bishops and cardinals as .to a stranger and a woman. Christina finally took up her abode there in 1G88. Her palace be- came the resort of all the learning and genius she could assemble round her ; a literary academy was established, and her revenue was liberally dispensed in pen- sions. If Filicaja and Guidi, both sharers of her bounty, have exaggerated her prais- es, much may be pardoned to gratitude, and much also to the natural admiration which those who look up to power must feel for those who have renounced it. Christina died in 1690, and her own acad- emy could last no longer ; but a phoenix sprang at once from its ashes. Crescim- beni, then young, has the credit of having Society of planned the Society of Arcadians, Arcadians, which began in 1 090, and has eclipsed in celebrity most of the earlier academies of Italy. Fourteen, says Cor- niani, were the original founders of this society ; among whom were Crescimbeni, and Gravina, and Zappi. In course of time the Arcadians vastly increased, and established colonies in the chief cities of Italy. They determined to assume every one a pastoral name and a Greek birth- place, to hold their meetings in some ver- dant meadow, and to mingle with all their compositions, as far as possible, images from pastoral life : images always agree- able, because they recall the times of primitive innocence. This poetical tribe adopted as their device the pipe of seven reeds bound with laurel, and their presi- dent or director was denominated general shepherd or keeper (custodc generate).* The fantastical part of the Arcadian So- ciety was common to them with all simi- lar institutions ; and mankind has gener- ally required some ceremonial follies to keep alive the wholesome spirit of asso- ciation. Their solid aim was to purify the national taste. Much had been al- ready done, and in great measure by their * Corniani.viii.,301. Tiraboschi.xi., 43. Cros- cimbeni, Storia d'Arcadia (reprinted by Mathias). VOL. II. 3 A own members, Menzini and CJuidi ; but their influence, which was of course more felt in the next century, has always been reckoned both important and auspicious to Italian literature. SECT. II. ON FRENCH POETRY. Fontaine. Boileau. Minor French Poets. 10. WE must pass over Spain and Por- tugal as absolutely destitute of LaFomaine any name winch requires com- memoration. In France it was very differ- ent ; if some earlier periods had been not less rich in the number of versifiers, none had produced poets who have descended with so much renown to posterity. The most popular of these was La Fontaine. Few writers have left such a number of verses which, in the phrase of his country, have made their fortune, and been, like ready money, always at hand for prompt quotation. His lines have at once a pro- verbial truth and a humour of expression which render them constantly applicable This is chiefly true of his Fables ; for his Tales, though no one will deny that they are lively enough, are not reckoned so well written, nor do they supply so much for general use. 11. The models of La Fontaine's style were partly the ancient fabulists character of whom he copied, for he pretends llis Kabies. to no originality ; partly the old French poets, especially Marot. From the one he took the real gold of his fables them- selves, from the other he caught a peculiar archness and vivacity, which some of them had possessed, perhaps, in no less dosrrer, but which, becomes more captivating from his intermixture of a solid and serious wisdom. For, notwithstanding the com- mon anecdotes, sometimes, as we may suspect, rather exaggerated, of La Fon- taine's simplicity, he was evidently a man who had thought and observed much about human nature, and knew a little more of the world than he cared to let the world perceive. Many of his fables are admira- ble; the grace of the poetry, the happy inspiration that seems to have dictated the turns of expression, place him in the tir.st rank among fabulists. Yet the praise of La Fontaine should not be indiscriminate. It is said that he gave the preference to Phaedrus and jEsop above himself, and some have thought that in this he could not have been sincere. It was, at least, a proof of his modesty. But, though we cannot think of putting Phredrus on a level with La Fontaine, were it only for thU 570 LITERATURE OF EUROPE reason, that in a work designed for the general reader, and surely fables are of this description, the qualities that please the many are to be valued above those that please the few. yet it is true that the French poet might envy some talents of the Roman. Phajdrus, a writer scarcely prized enough, because he is an early schoolbook, has a perfection of elegant beauty which very few have rivalled. No word is out of its place, none is redundant, or could be changed for a better ; his per- spicuity and ease make everything appear unpremeditated, yet everything is wrought by consummate art. In many fables of La Fontaine this is not the case ; he beats round the subject, and misses often before he hits. Much, whatever La Harpe may assert to the contrary, could be retrenched ; in much the exigences of rhyme and metre are too manifest.* He has, on the other hand, far more humour than Phae- drus ; and, whether it be praise or not, thinks less of his fable and more of its moral. One pleases by enlivening, the other pleases, but does not enliven ; one has more felicity, the other more skill ; but in such skill there is felicity. 12. The first seven satires of Boileau Boiieau: appeared in 1666; and these, His epistles, though much inferior to his later productions, are characterized by La Harpe as the earliest poetry in the French lan- guage where the mechanism of its verse was fully understood, where the style was always pure and elegant, where the ear was uniformly gratified. The Art of Poe- try was published in 1673, the Lutrin in 1674 ; the Epistles followed at various periods. Their elaborate though equable strain, in a kind of poetry which, never requiring high flights of fancy, escapes the censure of mediocrity and monotony which might sometimes fall upon it, generally * Let us take, for example, the first lines of L'Homme et la Couleuvre. Un hornrne vit une couleuvre. Ah mechanic, dit-il, je m'en vais faire un oeuvre Agreable a tout 1'univers ! A ces mots 1'animal pervers (C'est le serpent que je veux dire, Et non Vhomme, on pourroit aisement s'y tromper) A ces iiaots le serpent se laissant attrapper Est pris, mis en un sac ; et, ce qui fin le pire, On resolut sa moTt,fut il conpable ou non. None of these lines appear to me very happy; but there can be no doubt about that in italics', which j spoils the effect of the preceding, and is feebly re- dundant. The last words are almost equally bad ; no question could arise about the serpent's guilt, which had been assumed before. But these petty blemishes are abundantly redeemed by the rest of the fable, which is beautiful in choice of thoughts and language, and may be classed with the best in the collection. excites more admiration in those who have been accustomed to the numerous defects of less finished poets, than it retains in a later age, when others have learned to "emulate and preserve the same uniformity. The fame of Pope was transcendant for this reason, and Boileau is the analogue of Pope in French literature. 13. The Art of Poetry has been the model of the Essay on Criticism ; HIS Art of few poems more resemble each 1'oetry. other. I will not weigh in opposite scales two compositions, of which one claims an advantage from its originality, the other from the youth of its author. Both are uncommon efforts of critical good sense, and both are distinguished by their short and pointed language, which remains in the memory. Boileau has very well in- corporated the thoughts of Horace with his own, and given them a skilful adapta- tion to his own times. He was a bolder critic of his contemporaries than Pope. He took up arms against those who shared the public favour, and were placed by half Paris among great dramatists and poets, Pradon, Desmarests, Brebceuf. This was not true of the heroes of the Dunciad. His scorn was always bitter and probably sometimes unjust ; yet posterity has rati- fied almost all his judgments. False taste, it should be remembered, had long infected the poetry of Europe ; some steps had been lately taken to repress it, but ex- travagance, affectation, and excess of re- finement are weeds that can only be eradi- cated by a thorough cleansing of the soil, by a process of burning and paring which leaves not a seed of them in the public mind. And when we consider the gross blemishes of this description that deform the earlier poetry of France, as of other nations, we cannot blame the severity of Boileau, though he may occasionally have condemned in the mass what contained some intermixture of real excellence. We have become, of late years, in England, so enamoured of the beauties of our old wri- ters, and certainly they are of a superior kind, that we are sometimes more than a little blind to their faults. 14. By writing satires, epistles, and an art of poetry, Boileau has chal- comparison lenged an obvious comparison wilh Hora e- with Horace. Yet they are very unlike ; one easy, colloquial, abandoning himself to every change that arises in his mind, the other uniform as a regiment under arms, always equal, always laboured, in- capable of a bold neglect. Poetry seems to have been the delight of one, the task of the other. The pain that Boileau must have felt in writing communicates itself in FROM 1650 TO 1700. 371 some measure to the reader ; we are fear- ful of losing some point, of passing over some epithet without sufficiently perceiv- ing its selection ; it is as with those pic- tures, which are to be viewed long and at- tentively, till our admiration of detached proofs of skill becomes wearisome by repetition. 15. The Lutrin is the most popular of Th i ,.t n the poems of Boileau. its sub- i. lie ijuinu. . A . . _ ject is ill chosen ; neither inter- est nor variety could be given to it. Tas- soni and Pope have the advantage in this respect ; if their leading theme is trifling, \ve lose sight of it in the gay liveliness of description and episode. In Boileau, after we have once been told that the canons of a church spend their lives in sleep and eating, we have no more to learn, and grow tired of keeping company with a race so stupid and sensual. But the poignant wit and satire, the elegance and correct- ness of numberless couplets, as well as the ingenious adaptation of classical passages, redeem this poem, and confirm its high place in the mock-heroic line. 16. The great deficiency of Boileau is General char- insensibility. Far below Pope acier of his or even Dryden in tins essen- tial quality, which the moral epistle or satire not only admits, but re- quires, he rarely quits two paths, those of reason and of raillery. His tone on moral subjects is firm and severe, but not very noble ; a trait of pathos, a single touch of pity or tenderness, will rarely be found. This of itself serves to give a dryness to his poetry, and it may be doubtful, though most have read Boileau, whether many have read him twice. 17. Jthe pompous tone of Ronsard and Lyric poelfy Uu Bartas had become ridicu- lighter than lous in the reign of Louis XIV. before. Evcn that of Malherbe was too elevated for the public taste ; none, at least, imitated that writer, though the critics had set the example of admiring him. Boileau, who had done much to turn away the world from imagination to plain sense, once attempted to emulate the grandilo- quent strains of Pindar in an ode on the taking of Namur, but witli no such suc- cess as could encourage himself or others to repeat the experiment. Yet there was no want of gravity or elevation in the prose writers of France, nor in the trage- dies of Racine. But the French language is not very well adapted for the higher kind of lyric poetry, while it suits admira- bly the lighter forms of song and epigram. And their poets, in this age, were almost entirely men living at Paris, either in the court, or, at least, in a refined society, the most adverse of all to the poetical charac- ter. The influence of wit and politeness is generally directed towards rendering enthusiasm or warmth of fancy ridiculous ; and without these no great energy of ge- nius can be displayed. But, in their prop- er department, several poets of consider- able merit appeared. 18. Benserade was called peculiarly the poet of the court; for twenty B years it was his business to com- pose verses for the ballets represented be- fore the king. His skill and tact were shown in delicate contrivances to make those who supported the characters of gods and goddesses in these fictions, being the nobles and ladies of the court, betray their real inclinations, and sometimes their gallantries. He even presumed to shadow in this manner the passion of Louis for Mademoiselle La Valliere, before it was publicly acknowledged. Benserade must have had no small ingenuity and adroit- ness ; but his verses did not survive those who called them forth. In a different school, not essentially, perhaps, much more vicious than the court, but more careless of appearances, and rather proud of an immortality which it had no interest to conceal, that of Ninon 1'Enclos, several of higher reputation grew up; Chapelle (whose real name was L'Huillier), La Fare, Bachaumont, Lainez, and Ohau- Chauljeu lieu. The first, perhaps, and cer- tainly the last of these, are worthy to be remembered. La Harpe has said, that Chaulieu alone retains a claim to be read in a style where Voltaire has so much left all others behind, that no comparison with him can ever be admitted. Chaulieu was an original genius ; his poetry has a mark- ed character, being a happy mixture of a gentle and peaceable philosophy with a lively imagination. His verses flow from his soul ; and, though often negligent through indolence, are never in bad taste or affected. Harmony of versification, grace and gayety, with a voluptuous and Epicurean, but mild and benevolent turn of thought, belong to Chaulieu, and these are qualities which do not fail to attract the majority of readers.* 19. It is rather singular that a style so uncongenial to the spirit of the age pastoral as pastoral poetry appears was P etr >- quite as much cultivated as before. But it is still true that the spirit of the age gained the victory, and drove the shep- herds from their shady bowers, though without substituting anything more ration- al in the fairy tales which superseded the * La Harpe. Bouterwek, vl, 127. Biogr. Unit. LITERATURE OF EUROPE 372 pastoral romance. At the middle of the century, and partially till near its close, the style of D'Urfe and Scudery retained its popularity. Three poets of the age of Semi* Louis were known in pastoral ; Se- grais, Madame Deshoulieres, and Fontenelle. The first belongs most to the genuine school of modern pastoral ; he is elegant, romantic, full of complaining love ; the Spanish and French romances had been his model in invention, as Virgil was in style. La Harpe allows him nature, sweetness, and sentiment, but he cannot emulate the vivid colouring of Virgil ; and the language of his shepherds, though sim- ple, wants elegance and harmony. The tone of his pastorals seem rather insipid, though La Harpe has quoted some pleas- Deshou- ing lines. Madame Deshoulieres, litres. w jth a purer style than Segrais, ac- cording to the same critic, has less genius. Others have thought her Idyls the best in the language.* But these seem to be merely trivial moralities addressed to flowers, brooks, and sheep, sometimes ex- pressed in a manner both ingenious and natural, but, on the whole, too feeble to give much pleasure. Bouterwek observes that her poetry is to be considered as that of a woman, and that its pastoral morality would be somewhat childish in the mouth of man ; whether this says more for the lady or against her sex, 1 must leave to the reader. She has occasionally some very pleasing and even poetical passages.! Fontenelle. The t hird amon g these P oets of the pipe is Fontenelle. But his pastorals, as Bouterwek says, are too ar- tificial for the ancient school, and too cold for the romantic. La Harpe blames, be- sides this general fault, the negligent and prosaic phrases of his style. The best is that entitled Ismene. It is. in fact, a poem for the world ; yet, as love and its artifices are found everywhere, we cannot censure anything as absolutely unfit for pastoral, save a certain refinement which belonged to the author in everything, and which in- terferes with our sense of rural simplicity. 20. In the superior walks of poetry Bad epic France had nothing of which she poems, has been inclined to boast. Chape- lain, a man of some credit as a critic, pro- duced his long-laboured epic, La Pucelle, in 1656, which is only remembered by the insulting ridicule of Boileau. A similar fate has fallen on the Clovis of Desma- rests, published in 1684, though the Ger- man historian of literature has extolled the richness of imagination it shows, and observed that if those who saw nothing but a fantastic writer in Desmarests had possessed as much fancy, the national po- etry would have been of a higher charac- ter.* Breboenf 's translation of the Phar- salia is spirited, but very extravagant. 21. The literature of Germany was now more corrupted by bad taste than German ever. A second Silcsian school, P'O'- but much inferior to that of Opitz, was founded by Hofimanswaldau and Lohen- stein. The first had great facility, and imitated Ovid and Marini with some suc- cess. The second, with worse taste, al- ways tumid and striving at something el- evated, so that the Lohenstein swell be- came a by-word with later critics, is su- perior to Hoffmanswaldau in richness of fancy, in poetical invention, and in warmth of feeling for all that is noble and great. About the end of the century arose a new style, known by the unhappy name spirit- less (geistlos), which, avoiding the tone of Lohenstein, became wholly tame and flat.f Biogr. Univ. t Bouterwek, vi., 152. SECT. III. ON ENGLISH POETRY. Waller. Butler. Milton Dryden. The Minor Poets. 22. WE might have placed Waller in the former division of the seventeenth century with no more impropriety than we might have reserved Cowley for the latter ; both belong, by the date of their writings, to the two periods. And perhaps the poetry of Waller bears rather the stamp of the first Charles's age than of that which ensued. His reputation was great, and somewhat more durable than that of similar poets have generally been ; he did not witness its decay in hfe own protracted life, nor was it much diminish- ed at the beginning of the next century. Nor was this wholly undeserved. Waller has a more uniform elegance, a more sure facility and happiness of expression, and, above all, a greater exemption from gla- ring faults, such as pedantry, extravagance, conceit, quaintness, obscurity, ungram- matical and unmeaning constructions, than any of the Caroline era with whom he would naturally be compared. We have only to open Carew or Lovelace to per- ceive the difference ; not that Waller is wholly without some of these faults, but that they are much less frequent. If oth- ers may have brighter passages of fancy or sentiment, which is not difficult, he * Bouterwek, vi., 157. t Id., vol. x., p. 288. Heinsius, iv., 287. Eirh- horn, Geschichte der Cultur, iv., 776. FROM 1650 TO 1700. husbands better his resources, and, thoug left behind in the beginning of the race comes sooner to the goal. His Panegyri on Cromwell was celebrated. " Such a se ries of verse," it is said by Johnson, " ha rarely appeared before in the Kfiglish Ian guage. Of these lines some are gram some are graceful, and all are musical There is now and then a feeble verse or trifling thought; but its great fault is th choice of its hero." It may not be the opin ion of all, that Cromwell's actions were o that obscure and pitiful character whic] the majesty of song rejects, and Johnsoi has before observed that Waller's choic( of encomiastic topics in this poem is ver} udicious. Yet his deficiency in poetica vigour will surely be traced in this com position ; if he rarely sinks, he never rises very high, and we find much good sens< and selection, much skill in the mech.au ism of language and metre, without ardoui and without imagination. In his amorous poetry he has little passion or sensibility but he is never free and petulant, never tedious, and never absurd. His praise consists much in negations ; but in a com- parative estimate, perhaps negations ought to count for a good deal. 23. Hudibras was incomparably more Buiier's popular .than Paradise Lost ; no Hudibras. p 0em j n our language rose at once to greater reputation. Nor can this be called ephemeral, like that of most politi- cal poetry. For at least half a century after its publication it was generally read and perpetually quoted. The wit of But- ler has still preserved many lines ; but Hudibras now attracts comparatively few readers. The eulogies of Johnson seem rather adapted to what he remembered to have been the fame of Butler,, than to the feelings of the surrounding generation; and since his time, new sources of amuse- ment have sprung up, and writers of a more intelligible pleasantry have super- seded those of the seventeenth century. In the fiction of Hudibras there was never much to divert the reader, and there is still less left at present. But what has been censured as a fault, the length of di- alogue, which puts the fiction out of sight, is in fact the source of all the pleasure that the work affords. The sense of But- ler is masculine, his wit inexhaustible, and it is supplied from every source of reading and observation. But these sources are often so unknown to the reader that the wit loses its effect through the obscurity of its allusions, and he yields to the bane of wit, a purblind, mole-like pedantry. His versification is sometimes spirited, and his rhymes humorous ; yet he wants 373 that ease and flow which we require in light poetry. 24. The subject of Paradise Lost is the finest that has ever been chosen for heroic poetry ; it is also man- i* dw>e aged by Milton with remarkable Choice or skill. The Iliad wants complete- subject - ness ; it has a unity of its own, but it is the unity of a part where we miss the re- lation to a whole. The Odyssey is per- fect enough in this point of view ; but the subject is hardly extensive enough for a legitimate epic. The ^Eneid is spread over too long a space, and perhaps the latter books have not that intimate con- nexion with the former that an epic poem requires. The Pharsalia is open to the same criticism as the Iliad. The Thebaid is not deficient in unity or greatness of action ; but it is one that possesses no s6rt of interest in our eyes. Tasso is far su- perior both in choice and management to most of these. Yet the Fall of Man has a more general interest than the Crusade. 25. It must be owned, nevertheless, that a religious epic labours under some O]H5n to disadvantages ; in proportion as it some dir- attracts those who hold the same ficultle3 - tenets with the author, it is regarded by those who dissent from him with indiffer- ence or aversion. It is said thai the dis- covery of Milton's Arianism, in this rigid generation, has already impaired the sale of Paradise Lost. It is also difficult to nlarge or adorn such a story by fiction. Milton has done much in this way ; yet he >vas partly restrained by the necessity of jonforming to Scripture. 26. The ordonnance or composition of he Paradise Lost is admirable ; iis arrange- and here we perceive the advan- mem - age which Milton's great familiarity with he Greek theatre, and his own original scheme of the poem had given him. Ev- ry part succeeds in an order, noble, clear, and natural. It might have been wished, ndeed, that the vision of the eleventh book md not been changed into the colder nar- ration of the twelfth. But what can be nore majestic than the first, two books which open this great drama 1 It is true hat they rather serve to confirm the sneer >f Dryden, that Satan is Milton's hero, ince they develop a plan of action in that lotentate'which is ultimately successful; he triumph that he and his host must ex- )crience in the fall of man being hardly ompensated by their temporary conver- ion into serpents ; a fiction rather too rotesque. But it is, perhaps, only ped- ntry to talk about the hero, as if a high ersonage were absolutely required in an. pic poem to predominate over the rest. 374 LITERATURE OF EUROPE The conception of Satan is doubtless the first effort of Milton's genius. Dante could not have ventured to spare so much lustre for a ruined archangel, in an age when no- thing less than horns and a tail were the orthodox creed.* 27. Milton has displayed great skill in n,r , the delineations of Adam and ^ lid l .tut, I > of Adam Eve ; he does not dress them up, and Eve. a fter the fashion of orthodox the- ology, which had no spell to bind his free spirit, in the fancied robes of primitive righteousness. South, in one of his ser mons, has drawn a picture of unfallen man which is even poetical ; but it might be asked by the reader, Why, then, did he fall ? The first pair of Milton are inno- cent, of course, but not less frail than their posterity ; nor, except one circumstance, which seems rather physical intoxication * Coleridge has a fine passage which I cannot resist my desire to transcribe. " The character of Satan is pride and sensual indulgence, finding in it- self the motive of action. It is the character so of- ten seen in little on the political stage'. It exhibits all the restlessness, temerity, and cunning which have marked the mighty hunters of mankind from Nimrod to Napoleon. The common fascination of man is that these great men, as they are called, must act from some great motive. Milton has care- fully marked in his Satan the intense selfishness, the alcohol of egotism, which would rather reign in hell than serve in heaven. To place this lust of self in opposition to denial of self or duty, ami to show what exertions it would make, and what pains endure to accomplish its end, is Milton's par- ticular object in the character of Satan. But around this character he has thrown a singularity of da- ring, a grandeur of sufferance, and a ruined splen- dour, which constitute the very height of poetic sublimity." Coleridge's Remains, p. 176. In reading such a paragraph as this, we are struck by the vast improvement of the highest criticism, the philosophy of aesthetics, since the days of Addi- son. His papers in the Spectator on Paradise Lost were perhaps superior to any criticism that had been written in our language ; and we must always acknowledge their good sense, their judiciousness, and the vast service they did to our literature, in settling the Paradise Lost on its proper level. But how little they satisfy ,us, even in treating of the natura naturata, the poem itself ! and how little con- ception they show of the natura naturans, the indi- vidual genius of the author ! Even in the periodi- cal criticism of the present day, in the midst of much that is affected, much that is precipitate, much that is written for mere display, we find oc- casional reflections of a profundity and discrimina- tion which we should seek in vain through Dryden, or Addison, or the two Wartons, or even "Johnson, though much superior to the rest. Kurd has per- haps the merit of being the first who in this coun- try aimed at philosophical criticism ; he had great ingenuity, a good deal of reading, and a facility in applying it ; but he did not feel very deeply, was somewhat of a coxcomb, and, having always before his eyes a model neither good in itself, nor made for him to emulate, he assumes a dogmatic arro- gance, which, as it always offends the reader, so, for the most part, stands in the way of the author's own search for truth. than anything else, do we find any sign ol depravity superinduced upon their trans- gression. It might even be made a ques- tion for profound theologians, whether 1C ve, by taking amiss what Adam had said, and by self-conceit, did not sin before she tast- ed the fatal apple. The necessary pauci- ty of actors in Paradise Lost is perhaps the apology of Sin and Death ; they will not bear exact criticism, yet we do not wish them away. 28. The comparison of Milton with Ho- mer has been founded on the I , , , ,. Ho owes less acknowledged pre-eminence of lo i> mer each in his own language, and ttian the on the lax application of the traj -' edi word epic to their great poems. But there was not .much in common either between their genius or its products ; and Milton has taken less in direct imitation from Ho- mer than from several other poets. His favourites had rather been Sophocles and Euripides ; to them he owes the structure of his blank verse, his swell and dignity of style, his grave enunciation of moral and abstract sentiment, his tone of descrip- tion, neither condensed like that of Dante, nor spread out with the diffuseness of the other Italians, and of Homer himself. Next to these Greek tragedians, Virgil seems to have been his model ; with the minor Latin poets, except Ovid, he does not, I think, show any great familiarity ; and, though abundantly conversant with Ariosto, Tasso, and Marini, we cannot say that they influenced his manner, which, unlike theirs, is severe and stately, never light, nor, in the sense we should apply the words to them, rapid and animated.* 29. To Dante, however, he bears a much greater likeness. He has, compared in common with that poet, a uni- witl > I)ante form seriousness, for the brighter colour- ing of both is but the smile of a pensive mind, a fondness for argumentative speech, and for the same strain of argument. This, indeed, proceeds in part from the general similarity, the religious and even theolo- gical cast of their subjects : I advert par- ticularly to the last part of Dante's poem. We may almost say, when we look to the resemblance of their prose writings, in the proud sense of being born for some great achievement, which breathes through the Vita Nuova, as it does through Mil- ton's earlier treatises, that they were twin spirits, and that each might have anima- * The solemnity of Milton is striking in those passages where some other poets would indulge a little in voluptuousness, and the more so, because this is not wholly uncongenial to him. A few lines in Paradise Lost are rather too plain, and their gravity makes them worse. FROM 1650 TO 1700. ted the other's body ; that each would, a it were, have been the other, if he ha lived in the other's age. As it is, 1 ii cline to prefer Milton, that is, the Par? dise Lost, both because the subject i more extensive, and because the resource of his genius are more multifarious. Dant sins more against good taste, but only, per haps, because there was no good taste i his time ; for Milton has also too much disposition to make the grotesque acces sory to the terrible. Could Milton hav written the lines on Ugolino ! Perhap he could. Those on Francesca 1 Not, think, every line. Could Dante have plan ned such a poem as Paradise Lost 1 No certainly, being Dante in 1300 ; but, livhij when Milton did, perhaps he could. It is however, useless to go on with question that no one can fully answer. To com pare the two poets, read two or three can tos of the Purgatory or Paradise, and ther two or three hundred lines of Paradise Lost Then take Homer, or even Virgil, the dif ference will be striking. Yet, notwith standing this analogy of their minds, i have not perceived that Milton imitate Dante very often, probably from having committed less to memory while young (and Dante was not the favourite poet of Italy when Miltdtt was there), than of Ariosto and TaSfco. 30. Each of these great men chose the subject that suited his natural temper and genius. What, it is curious to conjec- ture, would have been Milton's success in his original design, a British story 1 Far less, surely, than in Paradise Lost ; he wanted the rapidity of the common he- roic poem, and would always have been sententious, perhaps arid and heavy. Yet, even as religious poets, there are several remarkable distinctions between Milton and Dante. It has been justly observed, that in the Paradise of Dante he makes use of but three leading ideas, light, mu- sic, and motion ; and that Milton has drawn Heaven in less pure and spiritual colours.* The philosophical imagination of the former, in this third part of his po- em, almost defecated from all sublunary things by long and solitary musing, spirit- ualizes all it touches. The genius of Milton, though itself subjective, was less * Quarterly Review, June, 1825. This article contains some good and some questionable re- marks on Milton ; among the latter I reckon the proposition, that his contempt for women is shown it the delineation of Eve ; an opinion not that of Addison or of many others who have thought her exquisitely drawn. It is true, that if Milton had made her a wit or a blue, the fall would have been accounted for with as little difficulty as possible, and spared the serpent his trouble. 375 so than that of Dante ; and he has to re- count, to describe, to bring deeds and pas- sions before the eye. And two peculiar causes may be assigned for this differ- ence in the treatment of celestial things between the Divine Comedy and the Par- adise Lost ; ihe dramatic form which Mil- ton had originally designed to adopt, and his own theological bias towards anthro- pomorphitism, which his posthumous trea- tise on religion has brought to light. This was, no doubt, in some measure inevitable in such a subject as that of Paradise Lost ; yet much that is ascribed to God, some- times with the sanction of Scripture, some- times without it, is not wholly pleasing ; such as " the oath that shook Heaven's whole circumference," and several other images of the same kind, which bring down the Deity in a manner not conso- nant to philosophical religion, however it may be borne out by the sensual analo- gies or mythic symbolism of Oriental wri- ting.* 31. We. rarely meet with feeble lines in Paradise Lost,f though with Elevation of many that are hard, and, in a his s| y |e - common use of the word, might bw called prosaic. Yet few are truly prosaic ; few wherein the tone is not some way distin- guished from prose. The very artificial style of Milton, sparing in English idiom, and his study of a rhythm, not always the most grateful to our ears, but preserving lis blank verse from a trivial flow, is the ause of this elevation. It is at least more removed from a prosaic cadence han the slovenly rhymes of such con- emporary poets as Chamberlayne. His Johnson thinks that Milton should have se- ured the consistency of this poem by keeping im- nateriality out of sight, and enticing his reader to rop it from his thoughts. But here the subject orbade him to preserve consistency, if, indeed, here be inconsistency in supposing a rapid as- umption of form by spiritual beings. For, though tie instance that Johnson alleges of inconsistency i Satan's animating a toad was not necessary, yet is animation of the serpent was absolutely indis- ensable. And the same has been done by other oets, who do not scruple to suppose their gods, neir fairies or devils, or their allegorical person- ges, inspiring thoughts, and even uniting them- elves with the soul, as well as assuming all kinds f form, though their natural appearance is almost Iways anthropomorphic. And, after all, Satan oes not animate a real toad, but takes the shape f one. " Squat like a toad close by the ear of >ve." But he does not enter a real serpent, so lat the instance of Johnson is ill chosen. II he ad mentioned the serpent, every one would have een that the identity of the animal serpent with atan is part of the original account. t One of the few exceptions is in the sublime sscription of Death, where a wretched hemistich, Fierce as ten furies," stands as an unsightly emish. 376 LITERATURE OF EUROPE versification is entirely his own, framed on a Latin and chiefly a Virgilian model, the pause less frequently resting on the close of the line than in Homer, and much less than in our own dramatic poets. But it is also possible that the Italian and Spanish blank verse may have had some effect upon his ear. 32. In the numerous imitations, and His blind- still more numerous traces of ness. older poetry which we perceive in Paradise Lost, it is always to be kept in mind that he had only his recollection to rely upon.* His blindness seems to have been complete before 1654 ; and I scarcely think that he had begun his poem before the anxiety and trouble into which the public strife of the commonwealth and the Restoration had thrown him gave lei- sure for immortal occupations. Then the remembrance of early reading came over his dark and lonely path like the moon emerging from the clouds. Then it was that the muse was truly his ; not only as she poured her creative inspiration into his mind, but as the daughter of Memory, coming with fragments of ancient melo- dies, the voice of Euripides, and Homer, and Tasso ; sounds that he had loved in youth, and treasured up for the solace of his age. They who, though not enduring the calamity of Milton, have known what it is, when afar from books, in solitude or in travelling, or in the intervals of worldly care, to feed on poetical recollections, to murmur over the beautiful lines whose cadence has long delighted their ear, to recall the sentiments and images which retain by association the charm that early years once gave them they will feel the inestimable value of committing to the memory, in the prime of its power, what it will easily receive and indelibly retain. I know not, indeed, whether an education that deals much with poetry, such as is still usual in England, has any more solid argument among many in its favour, than that it lays the foundation of intellectual pleasures at the other extreme of life. 33. It is owing in part to his blindness, His passion but more, perhaps, to his gener- for music, al residence in a city, that Mil- ton, in the words of Coleridge, is " not a picturesque, but a musical poet ;" or, as I would prefer to say, is the latter more of the two. He describes visible things, and often with great powers of rendering them * I take this opportunity of mentioning, on the authority of Mr. Todd's Inquiry into the Origin of Paradise Lost (edit of Milton, vol. ii , p. 229), that Lauder, whom I have taxed with ignorance, p. 186 of this vol., really published the poem of Barlams on the nuptials of Adam and Eve. manifest, what the Greeks called evapyeta, though seldom with so much circumstan- tial exactness of observation as Spenser or Dante ; but he feels music. The sense of vision delighted his imagination, but that of sound wrapped his whole soul in ecstasy. One of his trifling faults may be connected with this, the excessive pas- sion he displays for stringing together so- norous names, sometimes so obscure that the reader associates nothing with them, as the word Namancos in Lycidas, which long baffled the commentators. Hence his catalogues, unlike those of Homer and Virgil, are sometimes merely ornamental and misplaced. Thus the names of un- built cities come strangely forward in Adam's vision,* though he has afterward gone over the same ground with better effect in Paradise Regained. In this there was also a mixture of his pedantry. But, though he was rather too ostentatious of learning, the nature of his subject de- manded a good deal of episodical orna- ment. And this, rather than the prece- dents lie might have alleged from the Ital- ians and others, is perhaps the best apol- ogy for what some grave critics have censured, his frequent allusions to fable and mythology. These give much Fau!u in relief to the severity o1*the poem. Paradise and few readers would Dispense lj sL with them. Less excuse can be made for some affectation of science which has produced hard and unpleasing lines ; but he had been born in an age when more credit was gained by reading much than by writing well. The faults, however, of Paradise Lost are, in general, less to be called faults than necessary adjuncts of the qualities we most admire, and idiosyn- crasies of a mighty genius. The verse of Milton is sometimes wanting in grace, and almost always in ease ; but what better can be said of his prose? His foreign idioms are too frequent in the one, but they predominate in the other. 34. The slowness of Milton's advance to glory is now generally owned n s progress to have been much exaggerated : to (ame - we might say that the reverse was nearer the truth. "The sale of 1300 copies in two years," says Johnson, " in opposition to so much recent enmity, and to a style of versification new to all and disgusting to many, was an uncommon example of the prevalence of genius. The demand did not immediately increase ; for many more readers than were supplied at first the nation did not afford. Only 3000 were sold in eleven years." It would hardly. * Par. Lost, xi., 386. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 377 however, be said, even in this age, of a poem, 3000 copies of which had been sold in eleven years, that its success had been small; and 1 have some few doubts wheth- er Paradise Lost, published eleven years since, would have met with a greater de- mand. There is sometimes a want of congeniality in public taste which no pow- er of genius will overcome. For Milton it must be said by every one conversant with the literature of the age that prece- ded Addison's famous criticism, from which some have dated the reputation of Paradise Lost, that he took his place among great poets from the beginning. The fancy of Johnson, that few dared to praise it, and that " the Revolution put an end to the secrecy of love," is without foundation ; the government of Charles II. was not so absurdly tyrannical, nor did Dryden, the court's own poet, hesitate, in his preface to the State of Innocence, published soon after Milton's death, to speak of its original, Paradise Lost, as " undoubtedly one of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which ei- ther this age or nation has produced." 35. The neglect which Paradise Lost Paradise never experienced, seems to have Regained, been long the lot of Paradise Re- gained. It was not popular with the world ; it was long*believed to manifest a decay of the poet's genius, and. in spite of ail the critics have written, it is still but the favourite of some whose predi- lections for the Miltonic style are very strong. The subject is so much less ca- pable of calling forth the vast powers of his mind, that we should be unfair in com- paring it throughout with the greater po- em : it has been called a model of the shorter epic, an action comprehending few characters and a brief space of time.* The love of Milton for dramatic dialogue, imbibed from Greece, is still more appa- rent than in Paradise Lost; the whole poem, in fact, may almost be accounted a drama of primal simplicity, the narrative and descriptive part serving rather to di- versify and relieve the speeches of the actors than their speeches, as in the legit- \ irnate epic, to enliven the narration. Par- j adise Regained abounds with passages equal to any of the same nature in Para- 1 dise Lost ; "but the argumentative tone is kept up till it produces some tediousness ; and perhaps, on the whole, less pains have been exerted to adorn and elevate even that which appeals to the imagina- tion. 36. Samson Agonistes is the latest of * Todd's Milton, vol. v., p. 308. VOL. II. 3 B Milton's poems ; we see in it, per- Samson haps more distinctly than in Par- Aaomstes. adise Regained, the ebb of a mighty tide. An air of uncommon grandeur prevails throughout ; but the language is less poet- ical than in Paradise Lost ; the vigour of thought remains, but it wants much of its ancient eloquence. Nor is the lyric tone well kept up by the chorus ; they are too sententious, too slow in movement, and, except by the metre, are not easily dis- tinguishable from the other personages. But this metre is itself infelicitous ; the lines being frequently of a number of syl- lables not recognised in the usage of Eng- lish poetry, and, destitute of rhythmical language, fall into prose. Milton seems to have forgotten that the ancient chorus had a musical accompaniment. 37. The style of Samson, being essen- tially that of Paradise Lost, may show us how much more the latter poem is found- ed on the Greek tragedians than on Ho- mer. In Samson we have sometimes the pompous tone of jftschylus, more fre- quently the sustained majesty of Sopho- cles ; but the religious solemnity of Mil- ton's own temperament, as well as the nature of the subject, have given a sort of breadth, an unbroken severity to the whole drama. It is, perhaps, not very popular even with the lovers of poetry ; yet, upon close comparison, we should find that it deserves a higher place than many of its prototypes. We might search the Greek tragedies long for a character so powerfully conceived and maintained as that of Samson himself; and it is only conformable to the sculptural simplicity of that form of drama which Milton adopt- ed, that all the rest should be kept in sub- ordination to it. " It is only," Johnson says, "by a blind confidence in the ropu tation of Milton, that a drama can be praised in which the intermediate parts have neither cause nor consequence, nei- ther hasten nor retard the entastrophe." Such a drama is certainly not to be nnked with Othello and Macbeth, or rven with the CRdipus or the Hippolytus ; but a Mm- ilar criticism is applicable to srvernl fa- mous tragedies in the less artificial school of antiquity, to the Prometheus nnd the Persrc of ^fischylus, and. if we look strict- ly, to not a few of the two other masters. 38. The poetical genius of Dryden came slowly to perfection. Born in p rv ,vr. . 1631, his first short poems, or, as hl ^ rlier we might rather say, copies of ^ verses, were not written till he approached thirty; and, though some of his dramas, not indeed of the best, belonsr to the next period of his life, he had reached the a?e 378 LITERATURE OF EUROPE of fifty before his high rank as a poet had been confirmed by indubitable proof. Yet he had manifested a superiority to his im- mediate contemporaries; his A straea Re- dux, on the Restoration, is well versified ; the lines are seldom weak, the couplets have that pointed Banner which Cowlcy and Denham had taught the world to re- quire ; they are harmonious, but not so varied as the style he afterward adopted. The Annas Mirabilis, in 1667, is of a high- er cast; it is not so animated as the later poetry of Dryden, because the alternate quatrain, in which he followed Davenant's Gondibert, is hostile to animation ; but it is not less favourable to another excel- lence, condensed and vigorous thought. Davenant, indeed, and Denham may be reckoned the models of Dryden, so far as this can be said of a man of original ge- nius, and one far superior to theirs. The distinguishing characteristic of Dryden, it has been said by Scott, was the power of reasoning and expressing the result in ap- propriate language. This, indeed, was the characteristic of the two we have named, and, so far as Dryden has displayed it, which he eminently has done, he bears a resemblance to them. But it is insufficient praise for this great poet. His rapidity of conception and readiness of expression are higher qualities. He never loiters about a single thought or image, never labours about the turn of a phrase. The impres- sion upon our minds, that he wrote with exceeding ease, is irresistible, and I do not know that we have any evidence to repel it. The admiration of Dryden gains upon us, if I may speak from my own experi- ence, with advancing years, as we become more sensible of the difficulty of his style, and of the comparative facility of that which is merely imaginative. 39. Dryden may be considered as a sa- Absaiomand tirical, a reasoning, a descrip- Achiiophei. tive and narrative, a lyric poet, and as a translator. As a dramatist, we must return to him again. The greatest of his satires is Absalom and Achitophel, that, work in which his powers became fully known to the world, and which, as manv think, he never surpassed. The ad- mirable fitness of the English couplet for satire had never been shown before ; in less skilful hands it had been ineffective. He does not frequently, in this poem, carry the sense beyond the second line, which, for the most part, enfeebles the emphasis ; his triplets are less numerous than usual, but energetic. The spontaneous ease of expression, the rapid transitions, the gen- eral elasticity and movement, have never been excelled. It is superfluous to praise the discrimination and vivacity of the chief characters, especially Shaftesbury and Buckingham. Satire, however, is so much easier than panegyric, that with Ormond, Ossory, and Mulgrave he has not been quite so successful. In the second part of Absalom and Achitophel, written by Tale, one long passage alone is inserted by Dryden. It is excellent in its line of satire, but the line is less elevated ; the persons delineated are less important, and he has indulged more his natural prone- ness to virulent ribaldry. This fault of Dryden's writings, it is just to observe, belonged less to the man than to the age. No libellous invective, no coarseness of allusion, had ever been spared towards a private or political enemy. \Vc read with nothing but disgust the satirical poetry of Cleveland, Butler, Oldham, and Marvell, or even of men whose high rank did not soften their style, Rochester, Dorset, Mul- grave. In Dryden there was, for the first time, a poignancy of wit which atones for his severity, and a discretion even in his taunts which made them more cutting. 40. The Medal, which is in some meas- ure a continuation of Absalom and Achitophel, as it bears M wholly on Shaftesbury, is of unequal merit, and, on the whole, falls much below the former. In Mac Fleeknoe, his satire on his rival Shadwell, we must allow for the inferiority of the subject, which could not bring out so much of Dryden's higher powers of mind ; but scarcely one of his poems is more perfect. Johnson, who admired Dryden almost as much as he could any one, has yet, from his prone- ness to critical ceosure, very much ex- aggerated the poet's defects. " His faults of negligence are beyond recital. Such is the unevenness of his compositions, that ten lines are seldom found together with- out something of which the reader is ashamed." This might be true, or more nearly true, of other poets of the seven- teenth century. Ten good consecutive lines will, perhaps, rarely be found, except in Denham, Davenant, and Waller. But it seems a great exaggeration as to Dryden, I would particularly instance Mac Fleek- noe as a poem of about four hundred lines, in which no one will be condemned as weak or negligent, though three or four are rather too ribaldrous for our taste. There are also passages, much exceeding ten lines, in Absalom and Achitophel, as well as in the later works, the Fables, which excite in the reader none of the shame for the poet's carelessness with which Johnson has furnished him. 41. The argumentative talents of Drvden FROM 1650 TO 1700 379 The Hind appear, more or less, in the and 1'aiuher. greater part of liis poetry ; rea- son in rhyme was his peculiar delight, to which he seems to escape from the mere excursions of fancy. And it is remarkable that he reasons better and more closely in poetry than in prose. His productions more exclusively reasoning are the Keligio Laici and the Hind and Panther. The latter is every way an extraordinary poem. It was written in the heyday of exultation, by a recent proselyte to a winning side, as he dreamed it to be ; by one who never spared a weaker foe, nor repressed his triumph with a dignified moderation. A year was hardly to elapse before he ex- changed this fulness of pride for an old age of disappointment and poverty. Yet then, too, his genius was unquenched, and even his satire was not less severe. 42. The first lines in the Hind and its singular Panther are justly reputed among fable. the most musical in our language ; and perhaps we observe their rhythm the better because it does not gain much by the sense ; for the allegory and the fable are seen, even in this commencement, to be awkwardly blended. Yet, notwithstanding their evident incoherence, which some- times leads to the verge of absurdity, and the facility they give to ridicule, I am not sure that Dryden was wrong in choosing this singular fiction. It was his aim to bring forward an old argument in as novel a style as he could ; a dialogue between a priest and a parson would have made but a dull poem, even if it had contained some of the excellent paragraphs we read in the Hind and Panther. It is the grotesqueness and originality of the fable that gives this poem its peculiar zest, of which no reader, I conceive, is insensible ; and it is also by this means that Dryden has contrived to relieve his reasoning by short but beauti- ful touches of description, such as the sud- den stream of light from heaven which announces the conception of James's un- fortunate heir, near the end of the second book. 43. The wit. in the Hind and Panther is sharp, ready, and pleasant, the its reasoning. reasonm g j s sometimes admira- bly close and strong ; it is the energy of Bossuet in verse. I do not know that the main argument of the Roman Church could be better stated; all that has been well said for tradition and authority, all that serves to expose the inconsistencies of a vacillating Protestantism, is in the Hind's mouth. It is such an answer as a candid man should admit to any doubts of Dry- den's sincerity. He who could argue as powerfully as the Hind, may well be al- lowed to have thought himself in the right. Yet he could not forget a few bold thoughts of his more skeptical days ; and such is his bias to sarcasm, that he cannot restrain himself from reflections on kings and priests when he is most contending for them.* 44. The Fables of Dryden, or stories modernized from Boccaccio and , Chaucer, are at this day proba- bly the most read and the most popular of Dryden's poems. They contain passages of so much more impressive beauty, and are altogether so far more adapted to general sympathy than those we have mentioned, that I should not hesitate to concur in this judgment. Yet Johnson's accusation of negligence is better support- ed by these than by the earlier poems. Whether it were that age and misfortune, though they had not impaired the poet's vigour, had rendered its continual exertion more wearisome, or, as is, perhaps, the better supposition, he reckoned an easy style, sustained above prose, in some places rather by metre than expression, more fitted to narration, we find much which might appear slovenly to critics of Johnson's temper. He seems, in fact, to have conceived, like Milton, a theory that good writing, at least in verse, is never either to follow the change of fashion, or to sink into familiar phrase, and that any deviation from this rigour should be brand- ed as low and colloquial. But Dryden wrote on a different plan. He thought, like Ariosto, and like Chaucer, whom he had to improve, that a story, especially when not heroic, should be told in easy and flowing language, without too much difference from that of prose, relying on his harmony, his occasional inversions, and his concealed skill in the choice of words, for its effect on the reader. He found, also, a tone of popular idiom not, perhaps, old English idiom, but such as had crept into society current among his contemporaries ; and, though this has in many cases now become insufferably vul- gar, and in others looks lik&j affectation, we should make some allowance for the times in condemning it. This last, blem- ish, however, is not much imptitable to the Fables. Their beauties arc innumer- able, yet few are very well chosen ; some, as Guiscard and Sigismunda, he has in- * By education most have been mis'. So they believe because they were so bred. The priest continues what the nurse hognn, And thus the child imposes on the man. Part iii. " Call you this backing of your friends ?" his new allies might have said. 380 LITERATURE OF EUROPE jured through coarseness of mind, which neither years nor religion had purified ; and we want in all the power over emotion, the charm of sympathy, the skilful arrange- ment and selection of circumstance, which narrative poetry claims as its highest graces. 45. Dryden's fame as a lyric poet de- HisOdes:Ai- pends a very little on his Ode aider's Feas: on Mrs. Killigrew's death, but almost entirely on that for St. Cecilia's Day, commonly called Alexander's Feast. The former, which is much praised by Johnson, has a few fine lines, mingled with a far greater number ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit which Dryden hardly ever want- ed, but it is too faulty for high praise. The latter used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the lan- guage. Many would now agree Avith me that it is neither one nor the other, and that it was rather overrated during a pe- riod when criticism was not at a high point. Its excellence, indeed, is undenia- ble ; it has the raciness, the rapidity, the mastery of language which belong to Dry- den ; the transitions are animated, the contrasts effective. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level of a common drinking-song. It has the defects, as well as the merits of that po- etry which is written for musical accom- paniment. 46. Of Dryden as a translator it is need- His trans- less to say much. In some in- lation of stances, as in an ode of Horace, VirglL he has done extremely well ; but his Virgil is, in my apprehension, the least successful of his chief works. Lines of consummate excellence are frequently shot, like threads of gold, through the web ; but the general texture is of an or- dinary material. Dryden was little fitted for a translator of Virgil ; his mind was more rapid and vehement than that of his original, but by far less elegant and judi- cious. This translation seems to have been made in haste ; it is more negligent than any of his own poetry, and the style is often almost studiously, and, as it were, spit fully vulgar. 47. The supremacy of Dryden, from the Decline of po- death of Milton in 1674 to his etry from the O W11 ill 1700, Was not Only unap- Restorat'on. proached by any English poet, but ho held almost a complete monopoly of English poetry. This latter period of the seventeenth century, setting aside these two great names, is one remarkably steril in poetical genius. Under the first Stuarts, men of warm imagination and sen- sibility, though with deficient taste and lit- tle command of language, had done some honour to our literature; though once neglected, they have come forward again in public esteem, and, if not very exten- sively read, have been valued by men of kindred minds full as much as they de- serve. The versifiers of Charles II. and William's days have experienced the op- posite fate ; popular for a time, and long so far known, at least byname, as to have entered rather largely into collections of poetry, they are now held in no regard, nor do they claim much favour from just criticism. Their object in general was to write like men of the world ; with ease, wit, sense, and spirit, but dreading any soaring of fancy, any ardour of moral emotion, as the probable source of ridicule in their readers. Nothing quenches the flame of poetry more than this fear of the prosaic multitude, unless it is the commu- nity of habits with this very multitude ; a life such as these poets generally led, of taverns and brothels, or, what came much to the same, of the court. We cannot say of Dryden that " he bears no traces of those sable streams ;" they sully too much the plumage of that stately swan, but his indomitable genius carries him upward to a purer empyrean. The rest are just dis- tinguishable from one another, not by any high gifts of the muse, but by degrees of spirit, of ease, of poignancy, of skill and harmony in versification, of good sense and acuteness They may easily be dis- posed of. Cleveland is some- some minor times humorous, but succeeds poets enu- only in the lightest kinds of po- ' etry. Marvell wrote sometimes with more taste and feeling than was usual, but his satires are gross and stupid. Oldham, far superior in this respect, ranks perhaps next to Dryden ; he is spirited and point- ed, but his versification is too negligent, and his subjects temporary. Roscommon, one of the best for harmony and correct- ness of language, has little vigour, but he never offends, and Pope has justly praised his "unspotted bays." Mulgrave affects ease and spirit, but his Essay on Satire, belies the supposition that Dryden had any share in it. Rochester, with more con- siderable and varied genius, might have raised himself to a higher place than he holds. Of Otway, Duke, and several more, it is not worth while to give any character. The Revolution did nothing for poetry; William's reign, always ex- cepting Dryden, is our nadir in works of imagination. Then came Blackmore with his epic poems of Prince Arthur and King Arthur, and Pomfret with his Choice, both popular in their own age, and both intol- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 331 erable by their frigid and tame monotony in the next. The lighter poetry, mean- time, of song and epigram did not sink along with the serious ; the state of soci- ety was much less adverse to it. Roches- ter, Dorset, and some more whose names are unknown, or not easily traced, do credit to the Caroline period. 48. In the year 1699, a poem was pub- lished, Garth's Dispensary, which de- serves attention, not so much for its own merit, though it comes nearest to Dryden, at whatever interval, as from its indicating a transitional state in our versification. The general structure of the couplet through the seventeenth century may be called abnormous ; the sense is not only often carried beyond the second line, which the French avoid, but the second line of one couplet and the first of the next are not seldom united in a single sentence or a portion of one, so that the two, though not rhyming, must be read as a couplet. The former, when as dexterously mana- ged as it was by Dryden, adds much to the beauty of the general versification; but the latter, a sort of adultery of the lines already wedded to other companions at rhyme's altar, can scarcely ever be pleas- ing, unless it be in narrative poetry, where it may bring the sound nearer to prose. A tendency, however, to the French rule of constantly terminating the sense with the couplet will be perceived to have in- creased from the Restoration. Roscom- mon seldom deviates from it, and in long passages of Dryden himself there will hardly be found an exception. But per- haps it had not been so uniform in any former production as in the Dispensary. The vci-si Station of this once famou; mock-heroic poem is smooth and regular, but not forcible ; the language clear and neat; the parodies and allusions happy. Many lines are excellent in the way of pointed application, and some are remem- bered and quoted where few call to mind the author. It has been remarked that Garth enlarged and altered the Dispensary in almost every edition, and, what is more uncommon, that every alteration was for the better. This poem may be called an imitation of the Lutrin, inasmuch as but for the Lutrin, it might probably not have been written, and there are even particu- lar resemblances. The subject, which is a quarrel between the physicians and apothecaries of London, may vie with that of Boileau in want of general interest ; yet it seems to afford more diversity to the satirical poet. Garth, as has been inti- mated, is a link of transition between the style and turn of poetry under Charles and William, and that we find in AdJison, Prior, Tickell, and Pope, in the reign of Anne. SECT. IV. ON LATIN POETRY. 49. THE Jesuits were not unmindful of the credit their Latin verses had i. a im poets done them in periods more fa- Ol Ual >'- vourable to that exercise of taste than the present. Even in Italy, which had ceased to be a very genial soil, one of their num- ber, Ceva, may deserve mention. Cev> His Jesus Puer is a long poem, not inelegantly written, but rather singular in some of its descriptions, where the poet has been more solicitous to adorn his sub- ject than attentive to its proper charac- ter ; and the same objection might be made to some of its' episodes. Ceva wrote also a philosophical poem, extolled by Corniani, but which has not fallen into my hands.* Averani, a Florentine of va- rious erudition, Cappellari, Strozzi, author of a poem on chocolate, and several oth- ers, both within the order of Loyola and without it, cultivated Latin poetry with some success.f But, though some might be superior as poets, none were more re- markable or famous than Sergardi, g, ergardi best known by some biting satires under the name of Q. Sectanus, which he levelled at his personal enemy, Gravina. The reputation, indeed, of Gravina with posterity has not been affected by such libels ; but they are not wanting either in poignancy ;md" spirit, or in a command of Latin phrase. t 50. The superiority of France in Latin verse was no longer contested by or France- Holland or Germany. Several Q u ' llct poets of real merit belong to this period. The first in time was Claude Quillet, who, in his Callipeedh, bears the Latinized name of Leti. This is written with much elegance of style and a very harmonious versification. No writer has a more \ ir- gilian cadence. Though inferior to Sam- marthanus. lie may be reckoned high among the French poets. He has reproached with too open an exposition of some parts of his subject, which ip- plies only to the second book. 51. The Latin poems of Menage are not unpleasing ; he has, indeed, no Menage great fire or originality, but the harmonious couplets glide over the oar, and the mind is pleased to recognise * Corniani, viii , 214. Salfi, xiv., 257 t Bibl. Choisie, vol. xxii. Saliii, xiv 23,et post j Salfi, xiv., 299. Corniani, viu., 280 382 LITERATURE OF EUROPE tesselated fragments of Ovid and Tihullus. His affected passion for Mademoiselle La- vergne, and lamentations about her cruel- ty, are ludicrous enough, when we consid- er the character of the man, as Vadius in the Femmes Savantes of Moliere. They are perfect models of want of truth ; but it is a want of truth to nature, not to the conventional forms of modern Latin verse. 52. A far superior performance is the Rapinon poem on gardens by the Jesuit gardens. Rene Rapin. For skill in varying and adorning his subject ; for a truly Vir- gilian spirit in expression; for the exclu- sion of feeble, prosaic, or awkward lines, he may perhaps be equal to any poet, to Sammarthanus, or to Sannazarius himself. His cadences are generally very gratify- ing to the ear, and m this respect he is much above Vida.* But his subject or his genius has prevented him from rising very high : he is the poet of gardens, and what gardens are to nature that is he to mightier poets. There is also too monot- onous a repetition of nearly the same im- ages, as in his long enumeration of flow- ers in the first book; the descriptions are separately good, and great artifice is shown in varying them ; but the variety could not be sufficient to remove the gen- eral sameness that belongs to an horticul- tural catalogue. Rapin was a great ad- mirer of box and all topiary works, or trees cut into artificial forms. 53. The first book of the Gardens of Rapin is on flowers, the second on trees, the third on waters, and the fourth on fruits. The poem is of about 3000 lines, * As the poern of Rapin is not in the hands of every one who has taste for Latin poetry, I will give, as a specimen, the introduction to the second book : Me nemora atque omnis nemorum pulcherrimus ordo, Et spatia umbrandum late fundanda per hortum Invitant ; hortis nam si florentibus umbra Abfuerit, reliquo deerit sua gratia ruri. Vos grandes luci et silvge aspirate canenti ; Is mihi contingat vestro de munere ramus, Unde sacri quando velant sua tempora vates, Ipse et ainem meritam capiti imposuisse coronam. Jam se cantanti frondosa cacumina'quercus Inclinant. plauduntqne comis nemora alia coruscis. Ipsa mihi laeto fremitu, assensuque secundo E totis plausum responsat Gallia silvis. Nee me demde suo teneat clamore Cithasron, Msennlaque Arcadicis toties lustrata deabus, Non Do'.ionoei saltus, silvxque Molorchi, Aut nigris late ilicihus nernorosa Calydne, Et quos carminibus celebravit fabula lucos : Una nieos cantus tellus jam Franca moretur Qua; tot nobilibns passim laetissima silvis, Conspicienda sui late miracula ruris Ostendit, lucisque solum commendat amcenis. One or two words in these lines are not strictly correct ; but they are highly Virgilian, both in man- ner and rhythm. sustained with equable dignity. All kinds of graceful associations are mingled with the description of his flowers, in the fanci- ful style of Ovid and Darwin ; the violet is lantliis, who lurked in valleys to shun the love of Apollo, and stained her face with purple to preserve her chastity ; the rose is Rhodanthe, proud of her beauty, and vvoi shipped by the people in the place of Diana, but changed by the indignant Apollo to a tree, while the populace, who had adored her, are converted into her thorns, and her chief lovers into snails and butterflies. A tendency to conceit is perceived in Rapin, as in the two poets to whom we have just compared him. Thus, in some pretty lines, he supposes Nature to have " tried her prentice hand" in ma- king a convolvulus before she ventured upon a lily.* 54. In Rapin there will generally be re- marked a certain redundancy, which fas- tidious critics might call tautology of expression. But this is not uncommon in Virgil. The Georgics have rarely been more happily, imitated, especially in their didactic parts, than by Rapin in the Gar- dens ; but he has not the high flights of his prototype ; his digressions are short, and belong closely to the subject : we have no plague, no civil war, no Euryd- ice. If he praises Louis XIV., it is more as the founder of the garden of Versailles than as the conqueror of Flan- ders, though his concluding lines emu- late, with no unworthy spirit, those of the last Georgic.f It may be added, that some French critics have thought the fa- mous poem of Delille on the same sub- ject inferior to that of Rapin. 55. Santeul (or Santolius) has been reck- oned one of the best. Latin poets c i_ T-< i j TI Santeul. whom r ranee ever produced. He began by celebrating the victories of Louis and the virtues of contemporary heroes A nobleness of thought and a splendour of language distinguish the poetry of San- teul, who furnished many inscriptions for public monuments. The hymns which he afterward wrote for the breviary of the Church of Paris have been still more ad- mired ; and, at the request of others, he enlarged his collection of sacred verse. But I have not read the poetry of Santeul, * Et. l.u rumpis humum, et multo te flore profundis, Qui riguas inter serpis, convplvule, valley ; Dulce rudimentum meditantis lilia quondam Naturae, cum sese opera ad majora pararet. t Hac magni insistens vestigia sacra Maronis, Re super hortensi, Claro de monte canebam, Lutetia in magna ; quo tempore Francica tellut Rege beata suo, rebusque superba secundis, Et sua per populos late dare jura volentes Cseoerat. et toti iam morem imponere mundo. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 383 and give only the testimony of French critics.* 56. England might justly boast, in the Latin poetry earlier part of the century, her in England. Milton ; nay, I do not know that, with the exception of a well-known and very pleasing poem, though, perhaps, hard- ly of classical simplicity, by Cowley on himself, Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris, we can produce anything equally good in this pe- riod. The Latin verse of Barrow is for- cible and full of mind, but not sufficiently redolent of antiquity. f Yet versification became, about the time of the Restora- tion, if not the distinctive study, at least the favourite exercise, of the University of Oxford. The collection entitled Musa? Auglicanae, published near the end of the century, contains little from any other quarter. Many of these relate to the po- litical ihetnes of the day, and eulogize the reigning king, Charles, James, or Will- iam ; others are on philosophical subjects, which they endeavour to decorate with classical phrase. The character of this collection, does not, on the whole, pass mediocrity ; they are often incorrect and somewhat turgid", but occasionally display a certain felicity in adapting ancient lines to their subject, and sonic liveliness of in- vention. The golden age of Latin versp in England was yet to come. CHAPTER VI. HISTORY OF DRAMATIC LITERATURE FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECTION I. Racine. Minor French Tragedians. Moliere. Regnard, and other Cornic Writers. 1. FEW tragedies or dramatic works of Italian and an Y kind are now recorded by Spanish historians of Italian literature ; drama. lhoge of Delfino, afterward patri- arch of Aquileia, which are esteemed among the best, were possibly written before the middle of the century, and were not published till after its termina- tion. The Corradino of Caraccio, in 1694, was also valued at the time.J Nor can Spain arrest us longer ; the school of Calderon in national comedy extended no doubt beyond the death of Philip IV. in 1665, and many of his own religious pieces are of as late a date ; nor were names wholly wanting, which are said to merit remembrance, in the feeble reign of Charles II. ; but they must be left for such as make a particular study of Span- ish literature. We are called to a nobler stage. 2. Corneille belongs in his glory to the earlier period of this century, though his * Baillet. Biogr Universelle. t The following stanzas on an erring conscience will sufficiently prove this : Trvanne vitae. fax temeraria, Infide dux, ignobile vinculum, Sidus dolosurn, senigma praesens, Ingenni labyrinthe voti, Assensns errans, invalids potens Mentis propago, quam vet.uit Deus Nasci, sed ortae principatum Attribuit, regimenque sanctum, &c. J Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy, p. 201. Salfi, xii 57. Bouterwek. inferior tragedies, more nu- Racine's nm merous than the better, would tragedies, fall within the later. Fontenellc, indeed as a devoted admirer, attributes consider- able merit to those which the general voice both of critics and of the public had condemned.* Meantime, another lu- minary arose on the opposite side of the horizon. The first tragedy of .lean Ra- cine, Les Freres Kimomis,. was repre- sented in 1661, when he was twenty-five years of age. It is so far below his great works as to be scarcely mentioned, yet does not want indications of the genius they were to display. Alcxandre, in 1665, raised the young poet to more dis- tinction. It is said that he showed this tragedy to Corneille, who praised his ver- sification, but advised him to avoid a path which he was not. filled to tread. It i acknowledged by the advocates of Racine that the characters are feebly drawn, and that the conqueror of Asi-i sinks to the level of a hero in one of those romances of gallantry which had vitiated the taste of France. 3. The glory of Racine commenced with the representation of his Ar , drom;i( , UR Andromaque in 16(37, which was not printed till the end of the following year. He was now at once compared with Corneille, and the scales have been oscillating ever since. Criticism, satire. <(>- igrams, were unsparingly launched against * Hist, du Theatre Francois, in (Euvresde Fon tenelle, in., 111. St. Kvremond also despised the French public for not admiring the Sophonisbe cif Corneille, which he had made too Roman for theit taste. 384 the rising poet. But his rival pursued the worst policy by obstinately writing bad tragedies. The public naturally compare the present with the present, and forget the past. When he gave them Pertharite, they were dispensed from looking back to Cinna. It is acknowledged even by Fon- tenelle., that, during the height of Racine's fame, the world placed him at least on an equality with his predecessor ; a decision from which that critic, the relation and friend of Corneille, appeals to what he takes to be the verdict of a later age. 4. The Andromaque was sufficient to show that Racine had more skill in the management of a plot, in the display of emotion, in power over the sympathy of the spectator, at least where the gentler feelings are concerned, in beauty and grace of style, in all except nobleness of character, strength of thought, and im- petuosity of language. He took his fable from Euripides, but changed it according to the requisitions of the French theatre and of French manners. Some of these changes are for the better, as the substi- tution of Astyanax for an unknown Mo- lossus of the Greek tragedian, the sup- posed son of Andromache by Pyrrhus. " Most of those," says Racine himself very justly, " who have heard of Androm- ache, know her only as the widow of Hector and the mother of Astyanax. They cannot reconcile themselves to her loving another husband and another son." And he has finely improved this happy idea of preserving Astyanax, by making the Greeks, jealous of his name, send an embassy by Orestes to demand his life ; at once deepening the interest and devel- oping tV Ho>. 5. The female characters, Andromache ! and Hermione, are drawn with all Racine's ! delicate perception of ideal beauty ; the one, indeed, prepared for his hand by those great masters in whose school he had dis- ciplined his own gifts of nature, Homer, Euripides, Virgil ; the other more original and more full of dramatic effect. It was, as we are told, the fine acting of Made- moiselle de Champmele in this part, gen- erally reckoned one of the most difficult on the French stage, which secured the success of the play. Racine, after the first representation, threw himself at her feet in a transport of gratitude, which was soon changed to love. It is more easy to censure some of the other characters. Pyrrhus i:s bold, haughty, passionate, the true son of Achilles, except where he ap- pears as the lover of Andromache. It is inconceivable and truly ridiculous that a Greek of the heroic age, and such a Greek j as Pyrrhus is represented by those whose imagination has given him existence, should feel the respectful passion towards his captive which we might reasonably expect in the romances of chivalry, or should express it in the tone of conven- tional gallantry that suited the court of Versailles. But Orestes is far worse ; love-mad, and yet talking in gallant con- ceits, cold and polite, he discredits the poet, the tragedy, and the son of Aga- memnon himself. It is better to kill one's mother than to utter such trash. In hint- ing that the previous madness of Orestes was for the sake of Hermione, Racine has presumed too much on the ignorance and too much on the bad taste of his au- dience. But far more injudicious is his fantastic remorse and the supposed vision of the Furies in the last scene. It is as- tonishing that Racine should have chal- lenged comparison with one of the most celebrated scenes of Euripides in circum- stances that deprived him of the possi- bility of rendering his own effective. For the style of the Andromaque, it abounds with grace and beauty ; but there are, to my apprehension, more insipid and feeble lines, and a more effeminate tone than in his later tragedies. C. Britannicus appeared in 1669 ; and in this admirable play Racine first Brjtannicus . showed that he did not depend on the tone of gallantry usual among his courtly hearers, nor the languid sympa- thies that it excites. Terror and pity, the twin spirits of tragedy, to whom Aris- totle has assigned the great moral office of purifying the passions, are called forth in their shadowy forms to sustain the con- summate beauties of his diction. His sub- ject was original and happy ; with that historic truth which usage required, and that poetical probability which fills up the outline of historic truth without disguising it. What can be more entirely dramatic, what more terrible in the sense that Aris- totle means (that is, the spectator's sym- pathy with the dangers of the innocent), than the absolute master of the world, like the veiled prophet of Khorasan, throwing off the appearances of virtue, and standing out at once in the maturity of enormous guilt ! A presaging gloom, like that which other poets have sought by the hackneyed artifices of superstition, hangs over the scenes of this tragedy, and deepens at its close. We sympathize by turns with the guilty alarms of Agrippina, the virtuous consternation of Burrhus, the virgin mod- esty of Junia, the unsuspecting ingenu- ousness of Britannicus. Few tragedies on the French stage, or, indeed, on any stage. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 385 save those of Shakspeare, display so great a variety of contrasted characters. None, indeed, are ineffective, except the confi- dante of Agrippina ; for Narcissus is very far from being the mere confida-.it of Nero ; he is, as in history, his preceptor in crime ; and his cold villany is well contrasted with the fierce passion of the despot. The crit- icisms of Fontenelle and others on small incidents in the plot, such as the conceal- ment of Nero behind a curtain that he may hear the dialogue between .Tunia and Bri- tannicus, which is certainly more fit for comedy, ought not to weigh against such excellence as we find in all the more es- sential requisites of a tragic drama. Ra- cine had much improved his language since Aiidromaque ; the conventional phraseol- ogy about flames and fine eyes, though not wholly relinquished, is less frequent; and if he has not here reached, as he never did, the peculiar impetuosity of Corneille, nor given to his Romans the grandeur of his predecessor's conception, he is full of lines wherein, as every word is effective, there can hardly be any deficiency of vig- our. It is the vigour, indeed, of Virgil, not of Lucan. 7. In one passage, Racine has, I think, excelled Shakspeare. They have both ta- ken the same idea from Plutarch. The lines of Shakspeare are in Antony and Cleopatra : " Thy demon, that's the spirit that keeps thee, is Noble, courageous, unmatchable, Where Caesar's is not ; but near him, thy angel Becomes a fear, as being o'erpowered." These are, to my apprehension, not very forcible, and obscure even to those who know, what many do not, that by " a fear" he meant a common goblin, a supernatural being of a more plebeian rank than a de- mon or angel. The single verse of Racine is magnificent : " Mon genie ctonne tremble devant le sien." 8. Berenice, the next tragedy of Racine, . is a surprising proof of what can be done by a great master ; but it must be admitted that it wants many of the essential qualities that are required in the drama. It might almost be compared with Timon of Athens by the absence of fable and movement. For nobleness and delicacy of sentiment, for grace of style, it deserves every praise ; but is rather te- dious in the closet, and must be far more so on the stage. This is the only tragedy of Racine, unless, perhaps, we except Atha- ; ie,in which the story presents an evident moral; but no poet is more uniformly moral in his sentiments. Corneille, to whom the want of dramatic fable was ever any great objection, attempted the VOT,. II. 3 C subject of Berenice about the same time with far inferior success. It required, what he could not give, the picture of two hearts struggling against a noble and a blameless love. 9. It was unfortunate for Racine that he did not more frequently break through the prejudices of the French Bj theatre in favour of classical subjects. A field was open of almost boundless extent, the medieval history of Europe, and es- pecially of France herself. His predeces- sor had been too successful in the Cid to leave it doubtful whether an audience would approve such an innovation at the hands of a favoured tragedian. Racine, however, did not venture on a step which in the next century Voltaire turned so much to account, and which made the for- tune of some inferior tragedies. But, con- sidering the distance of place equivalent, for the ends of the drama, to that of time, he founded on an event in the Turkish his- tory not more than thirty years before his next tragedy, that of Bajazet. Most part, indeed, of the fable is due to his own in- vention. Bajazet is reckoned to fall be- low most of his other tragedies in beauty of style ; but the fable is well connected ; there is a great deal of movement, and an unintermitting interest is sustained by Ba- jazet and Atalide, two of the noblest char- acters that Racine has drawn. Atalide has not the ingenuous simplicity of Junie, but displays a more dramatic flow of sen- timent, and not less dignity or tenderness of soul. The character of Roxane is con- ceived with truth and spirit ; nor is the re- semblance some have found in it to that of Hermione greater than belongs to forms of the same type. Aeomat, the vi7ir, is more a favourite with the French critics ; but in such parts Racine does not rise to the level of Corneille. No poet is less ex- posed to the imputation of bombastic ex- aggeration; yet in the two lines with which Acomat concludes the fourth act, there seems almost an approach to bur- lesque ; and one can hardly say that they would have been out of place in Tom Thumb : " Moiirons,moi,oherOsrnin,comme un vizir, et toi, Comme le favort d'un homme tel que moi." 10. The next tragedy was Mithridate ; and in this Racine has been MUhridate thought to have wrestled against Corneille on his own ground, the display of the unconquerable mind of a hero. We find in the part of Mithridate a great depth of thought in compressed and energetic language. But, unlike the masculine char- acters of Corneille, he is not merely sen- tentious. Racine introduces no one for 386 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the sake of the speeches he has to utter. I In Mithridates he took what history has ' delivered to us, blending with it no im- probable fiction according to the manners of the East. His love for Monime has no- thing in it extraordinary, or unlike what we might expect from the King of Pon- tus ; it is a fierce, a jealous, a vindictive love ; the necessities of the French lan- guage alone, and the usages of the French theatre, could make it appear feeble. His two sons are naturally less effective ; but the loveliness of Monime yields to no fe- male character of Racine. There is some- thing not quite satisfactory in the strata- gems which Mithridates employs to draw from her a confession of her love for his son. They are not uncongenial to the historic character, but, according to our chivalrous standard of heroism, seem de- rogatory to the poetical. 11. Iphigenie followed in 1674. In this . Racine had again to contend with e ' Euripides in one of his most cel- ebrated tragedies. He had even, in the character of Achilles, to contend, not with Homer himself, yet with the Homeric as- sociations familiar to every classical schol- ar. The love, in fact, of Achilles, and his politeness towards Clytemnestra, are not exempt from a tone of gallantry a little repugnant to our conception of his man- ners. Yet the Achilles of Homer is nei- ther incapable of love nor of courtesy, so that there is no essential repugnance to his character. That of Iphigenia in Eu- ripides has been censured by Aristotle as inconsistent ; her extreme distress at the first prospect of death being followed by an unusual display of courage. Hurd has taken upon him the defence of the Greek tragedian, and observes, after Brumoy, that the Iphigenia of Racine being modell- ed rather after the comment of Aristotle than the example of Euripides, is so much the worse.* But his apology is too sub- tle, and requires too long reflection, for the ordinary spectator ; and, though Shaks- peare might have managed the transition of feeling with some of his wonderful knowledge of human nature, it is certainly presented too crudely by Euripides, and much in the style which 1 have elsewhere observed to be too usual with our old dramatists. The Iphigenia of Racine is not a character, like those of Shakspeare, and of him perhaps alone, which nothing less than intense meditation can develop to the reader, but one which a good actress might compass and a common spectator understand. Racine, like most other tra- * Kurd's Commentary on Horace, vol. i., p. 115. gedians, wrote for the stage ; Shakspeare aimed at a point beyond it, and sometimes too much lost sight of what it required. 12. Several critics have censured the part of Eriphile. Yet Fontenelle, preju- diced as he was against Racine, admits that it is necessary for the catastrophe, though he cavils, I think, against her ap- pearance in the earlier part of the play, laying down a rule by which our own tra- gedians would not have chosen to be tried, and which seems far too rigid, that the ne- cessity of the secondary characters should be perceived from their first appearance.* The question for Racine was in what man- ner he should manage the catastrophe. The fabulous truth, the actual sacrifice of Iphigenia, was so revolting to the mind, that even Euripides thought himself obli- ged to depart from it. But this he effected by a contrivance impossible on the French stage, and which would have changed Ra- cine's tragedy to a common melodrame. It appears to me that he very happily sub- stituted the character of Eriphile, who, as Fontenelle well says, is the hind of the fa- ble ; and whose impetuous and somewhat disorderly passions both furnish a contrast to the ideal nobleness of Iphigenia through- out the tragedy, and reconcile us to her own fate at the close. 13. Once more, in Phedre, did the great disciple of Euripides attempt to sur- pass his master. In both tragedies the character of Phaedra herself throws into shade all the others, but with this im- portant difference, that in Euripides her death occurs about the middle of the piece, while she continues in Racine till the con- clusion. The French poet has borrowed much from the Greek, more, perhaps, than in any former drama, but has surely height- ened the interest, and produced a more splendid work of genius. I have never read the particular criticism in which Schlegel has endeavoured to elevate the Hippolytus above the Phedre. Many, even among French critics, have objected to the love of Hippolytus for Aricia, by which Racine has deviated from the mytholo- gical tradition. But we are hardly tied to all the circumstance of fable ; and the cold young huntsman loses nothing in the eyes of a modern reader by a virtuous at- tachment. This tragedy is said to be more open to verbal criticism than the Iphige- nie; but in poetical beauty I do not knovr that Racine has ever surpassed it. The description of the death of Hippolytus is perhaps his master-piece. It is true that, * Reflexions sur la Poetique. (Euvwde Fon- tenelle, vol. iii., p. 149. FROM 1650 TO 1700. Esther. according to the practice of our own stage, long descriptions, especially in elaborate language, are out of use ; but it is not, at least, for the advocates of Euripides to blame them. 14. The Phedre was represented m 1677 ; and after this its illustrious author seemed to renounce the stage. His increasing attachment to the Jansenists made it almost impossible, with any consistency, to promote an amuse- ment they anathematized. But he was induced, after many years, in 1689, by Madame de Maintenon, to write Esther for the purpose of representation by the young ladies whose education she pro- tected at St. Cyr. Esther, though very much praised for beauty of language, is admitted to possess little merit as a dra- ma. Much, indeed, could not be expected in the circumstances. It was acted at St. Cyr ; Louis applauded, and it is said that the Prince de Conde wept. The greatest praise of Esther is that it encouraged its Athaiie. ailtnor to write Athalie. Once more restored to dramatic concep- tions, his genius revived from sleep with no loss of the vigour of yesterday. He was even more in Athalie than in Iphi- genie and Britannicus. This great work, published in 1691, with a royal prohibition to represent it on any theatre, stands by general consent at the head of all the tra- gedies of Racine, for the grandeur, simpli- city, and interest of the fable, for dramatic terror, for theatrical effect, for clear and judicious management, for bold and forci- ble rather than subtle delineation of char- acter, for sublime sentiment and imagery. It equals, if it does not, as I should incline to think, surpass, all the rest in the per- fection of style, and is far more free from every defect, especially from ftJeble polite- ness and gallantry, which, of course, the subject could not admit. It has 'jeen said that he gave himself the preference to Phedre ; but it is more extraordinary that not only his enemies, of whom there were many, but the public itself, was for some years incapable of discovering the merit of Athalie. Boileau declared it to be a master-piece, and one can only be aston- ished that any could have thought differ- ently from Boileau. It doubtless gained much in general esteem when it came to be represented by good actors; for no tragedy in the French language is more peculiarly fitted for the stage. 15. The chorus which he had previously introduced in Esther was a very bold in- novation (for the revival of what is forgot- ten must always be classed as innova- tion), and it required all the skill of Racine 387 to prevent its appearing in our eyes an im pertinent excrescence. But though we do not, perhaps, wholly reconcile ourselves to some of the songs, which too much sug- gest, by association, the Italian opera, the chorus of Athalie enhances the interest as well as the splendour of the tragedy. It was, indeed, more full of action and scenic pomp than any he had written, and probably than any other which up to that time had been represented in France. The part of Athalie predominates, but not so as to eclipse the rest. The high-priest Joad is drawn with a stern zeal admirably dramatic, and without which the idolatrous queen would have trampled down all be- fore her during the conduct of the fable, whatever justice might have ensued at the last. We feel this want of an adequate resistance to triumphant crime in the Ro- dogune of Corneille. No character ap- pears superfluous or feeble ; while the plot lias all the simplicity of the Greek stage, : t has all the movement and continual ex- :itation of the modern. 16. The female characters of Racine are of the greatest beauty; they Racine's fe- lave the ideal grace and harmo- male ctmr- ly of ancient sculpture, and bear acters ' somewhat of the same analogy to those of Shakspeare which that art does to paint- "ng. Andromache, Monimia, Iphigenia, >ve may add Junia, have a dignity and 'aultlessness neither unnatural nor insipid, jecause they are only the ennobling and jurifying of human passions. They are ;he forms of possible excellence, not from ndividual models, nor likely, perhaps, to delight every reader, for the same reason hat more eyes are pleased by Titian than >y Raffaelle. But it jp a very narrow crit- cism which exclude* either school from our admiration, which disparages Racine out of idolatry of Shakspeare. The latter, t is unnecessary for rne to say, stands out of reach of all competition. But it is not on this account that we are to give up an author so admirable as Racine. 17. The chief faults of Racine may >artly be ascribed to the influ- Racine com nee of national taste, though pared with we must confess that Corncille las avoided them. Though love with him s always tragic and connected with the leroic passions, never appearing singly, as n several of our own dramatists, yet it is sometimes unsuitable to the character, and still more frequently feeble and courtier- ike in the expression. In this he com- plied too much with the times ; but we nust believe that he did not entirely feel hat he was wrong. Corneille had, even while Racine was in his glory, a strenuous 388 LITERATURE OF EUROPE band of supporters. Fontenelle, writing in the next century, declares that time has established a decision in which most seem to concur, that the first place is due to the elder poet, the second to the younger ; every one making the interval between them a little greater or less, according to his taste.* But Voltaire, La Harpe, and in general, I apprehend, the later French critics, have given the preference to Ra- cine. I presume to join my suffrage to theirs. Raciue appears to me the supe- rior tragedian ; and I must add that I think him next to Shakspeare among all the moderns. The comparison with Euripides is so natural that it can hardly be avoided. Certainly no tragedy of the Greek poet is so skilful or so perfect as Athalie or Bri- tannicus. The tedious scenes during which the action is stagnant ; the imperti- nences of useless, often perverse morali- ty; the extinction, by bad management, of the sympathy that had been raised in the earlier part of a play ; the foolish alterna- tion of repartees in a series of single lines, will never be found in Racine. But, when we look only at the highest excellences of Euripides, there is, perhaps, a depth of pathos and an intensity of dramatic effect which Racine himself has not attained. The difference between the energy and sweetness of the two languages is so im- portant in the comparison, that I shall give even this preference with some hesita- tion. 18. The style of Racine is exquisite. Beauty of Perhaps he is second only to ins style. Virgil among all poets. But I will give the praise of this in the words of a native critic. __ " His expression is al- ways so happy and so natural, that it seems as if no othem could have been found ; and every worn is placed in such a manner that we cannot fancy any other place to have suited it as well. The structure of his style is such that nothing- could be displaced, nothing added, nothing retrenched ; it is one unalterable whole. Even his incorrectnesses are often but sacrifices required by good taste, nor would anything be more difficult than to write over again a line of Racine. No one has enriched the language with a greater number of turns of phrase ; no one is bold with more felicity and discre- tion, or figurative with more grace and propriety ; no one has handled with more command an idiom often rebellious, or with more skill an instrument always dif- ficult ; no one has better understood that delicacy of style which must not be mis- * P. 118. taken for feebleness, and is, in fact, but that air of ease which conceals from the reader the labour of the work and the ar- tifices of the composition ; or better man- aged the variety of cadences, the resources of rhythm, the association and deduction of ideas. In short, if we consider that his perfection in these respects may be oppo- sed to that of Virgil, and that he spoke a language less flexible, less poetical, and less harmonious, we shall readily believe that Racine is, of all mankind, the one to whom nature has given the greatest tal- ent for versification."* 19. Thomas, the younger and far infe- rior brother of Pierre Corneille, Thoma! , was yet, by the fertility of his fomeiiie: pen, by the success of some of hisA "ane. his tragedies, and by a certain reputation which two of them have acquired, the next name, but at a vast interval, to Ra- cine. Voltaire says he would have en- joyed a great reputation but for that of his brother : one of those pointed sayings which seem to mean something, but are devoid of meaning. Thomas Corneille is never compared with his brother; and probably his brother has been rather ser- viceable to his name with posterity than otherwise. He wrote with more purity, according to the French critics, than his brother; and it must be owned that, in his Ariane, he has given to love a tone more passionate and natural than the manly scenes of the older tragedian ever present. This is esteemed his best work, but it de- pends wholly on the principal character, whose tenderness and injuries excite our sympathy, and from whose lips many lines of great beauty flow. It may be compared with the Berenice of Racine, represented but a short time before ; there is enough of resemblance in the fables to provoke comparison. That of Thomas Corneille is more tragic, less destitute of theatrical movement, and, consequently, better chosen ; but such relative praise is of little value, where none can be given, in this respect, to the object of compari- son. We feel that the prose romance is the proper sphere for the display of an affection neither untrue to nature nor un- worthy to move the heart, but wanting the majesty of the tragic muse. An ef- feminacy uncongenial to tragedy belongs to this play ; and the termination, where the heroine faints away instead of dying, is somewhat insipid. The only other tra- gedy of the younger Corneille that can be mentioned is the Earl of Essex. In this * La Harpe, Eloge de Racine, as quoted by him- self in Cours de Litterature, vol. vi. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 389 h Slas taken greater liberties with history than his critics approve ; and, though love does not so much predominate as in Ari- ane, it seems to engross, in a style rather too romantic, both the hero and his sov- ereign. 20. Neither of these tragedies, perhaps, Maniius of deserves to be put on a level with La Fo.-ise. the Maniius of La Fosse, to which La Harpe accords the preference above all of the seventeenth century after those of Corneille and Racine. It is just to ob- serve, what is not denied, that the author has borrowed the greater part of his story from the Venice Preserved of Otway. The French critics maintain that he has far excelled his original. It is possible that we might hesitate to own this supe- riority ; but several blemishes have been removed, and the conduct is perhaps more noble, or, at least, more fitted to the French stage. But when we take from La Fosse what belongs to another characters strongly marked, sympathies powerfully contrasted, a development of the plot prob- bable and interesting what, will remain that is purely his own 1 There will re- main a vigorous tone of language, a con- siderable power of description, and a skill in adapting, we may add with justice, in improving, what he found in a foreign lan- guage. We must pass over some other tragedies which have obtained less hon- our in their native land, those of Duche, Quinault, and Campistron. 21. Moliere is perhaps, of all French writers, the one whom his coun- try has most uniformly admired, and in whom her critics are most unwill- ing to acknowledge faults; though the observations of Schlcgel on the defects of Moliere, and especially on his large debts to older comedy, are not altogether without foundation. Moliere began with L'Etourdi in 1053, and his pieces followed rapidly till his death in 1673. About one half, are in verse : I shall select a few without regard to order of time, and, first, one written in prose, L'Avare. 22. Plautus first exposed upon the stage the wretchedness of avarice, the L'Avare. pun j snment O f a se lfish love of gold, not only in the life of pain it has cost to acquire it, but in the terrors that it brings, in the disordered state of mind, which is haunted, as by some mysterious guilt, by the consciousness of secret wealth. The character of Euclio, in the Aulularia, is dramatic, and, as far as we know, origi- nal; the moral effect requires, perhaps, some touches beyond absolute probabili- ty, but it must be confessed that a few passages are overcharged. Moliere bor- rowed L'Avare from this comedy ; and I am not at present aware that the subject, though so well adapted for the stage, had been chosen by any intermediate drama- tist. He is indebted, not merely for the scheme of his play, but for many strokes of humour, to Plautus. But this takes off little from the merit of this :xcellent com- edy. The plot is expanded without in- congruous or improbable circumstances ; new characters are well combined with that of Harpagon, and his own is at once more diverting and less extravagant than that of Euclio. The penuriousness of the latter, though by no means without ex- ample, leaves no room for any other ob- ject than the concealed treasure in which his thoughts are concentred. But Mo- liere had conceived a more complicated action. Harpagon does not absolutely starve the rats ; he possesses horses, though he feeds them ill ; he has ser- vants, though he grudges them clothes : he even contemplates a marriage-supper at his own expense, though he intends to have a bad one. He has evidently been compelled to make some sacrifices to the usages of mankind, and is at once a more common and a more theatrical character than Euclio. In other respects they are much alike; their avarjce has reached that point where it is without pride ; the dread of losing their wealth has overpow- ered the desire of being thought to pos- sess it ; and, though this is a more natu- ral incident in the manners of Greece than in those of France, yet the concealment of treasure, even in the time of Moliere was sufficiently frequent for dramatic probability. A general tone of selfish- ness, the usual source and necessary con- sequence of avarice, conspires with the latter quality to render Harpagon odious ; and there wants but a little more poetical justice in the conclusion, which leaves the casket in his possession. 23. Kurd has censured Moliere without much justice. " For the picture of the avaricious man, Plautus and Moliere have presented us with a fantastic, unpleasing draught of the passion of avarice." It may be answered to this, that Harpagon's character is, as has been said above, not so mere a delineation of the passion as that of Euclio. But, as a more general vindication of Moliere, it should be kept in mind, that every exhibition of a predomi- nant passion within the compass of the five acts of a play must be coloured be- yond the truth of nature, or it will not have time to produce its effect. This is one great advantage that romance pos- sesses over the drama. 390 24. L'Ecole des Femmes is among the L'Ecoie des most diverting comedies of Mo- Femmes. Here. Yet it has in a remarka- ble degree what seems inartificial to our own taste, and contravenes a good gener- al precept of Horace ; the action passes almost wholly in recital. But this is so well connected with the development of the plot and characters, and produces such amusing scenes, that no spectator, at least on the French theatre, would be sensible of any languor. Arnolphe is an excellent modification of the type which Moliere loved to reproduce ; the selfish and mo- rose cynic, whose pretended hatred of the vices of the world springs from aji absorb- ing regard to his own gratification. He has made him as malignant as censorious ; he delights in tales of scandal ; he is pleas- ed that Horace should be successful in gallantry, because it degrades others. The half-witted and ill-bred child, of whom he becomes the dupe, as well as the two idiot servants, are delineated with equal vivaci- ty. In this comedy we find the spirited versification, full of grace and humour, in which no one has rivalled Moliere, and which has never been attempted on the English stage. It was probably its merit which raised a host of petty detractors, on whom the author revenged himself in his admirable piece of satire, La Critique de 1'Ecole des Femmes. The affected pedantry of the H6tel Rambouillet seems to be ridiculed in this retaliation ; nothing, in fact, could be more unlike than the style of Moliere to their own. 25. He gave another proof of contempt LeMisan- for the false taste o^ some Pari- thrope. sian circles in the Misanthrope : though the criticism of Alceste on the wretched sonnet forms but a subordinate portion of that famous comedy. It is gen- erally placed next to Tartuffe among the works of Moliere. Alceste is again the cynic, but more honourable and less open- ly selfish, and with more of a real disdain of vice in his misanthropy. Rousseau, upon this account, and many others after him, have treated the play as a vindication of insincerity against truth, and as making virtue itself ridiculous on the stage. This charge, however, seems uncandid ; nei- ther the rudeness of Alceste, nor the mis- anthropy from which it springs, are to be called virtues ; and we may observe that he displays no positively good quality be- yond sincerity, unless his ungrounded and improbable love for a coquette is to pass for such. It is true that the politeness of Philinthe, with whom the Misanthrope is contrasted, borders a little too closely upon flattery ; but no oblique end is in his view ; he flatters to give pleasure ; and if we do not much esteem his character, we are not solicitous for his punishment. The dialogue of the Misanthrope is uniformly of the highest style ; the female, and, in- deed, all the characters, are excellently conceived and sustained ; and if this com- edy fails of anything at present, it is through the difference of manners, and, perhaps, in representation, through the want of animated action on the stage. 26. In Les Femmes Savantes there is a more evident personality in i. 8 s Femmes the characters, and a more ma- Savantes. licious exposure of absurdity than in the Misanthrope ; but the ridicule, falling on a less numerous class, is not so well calcu- lated to be appreciated by posterity. It is, however, both in reading and representa- tion, a more amusing comedy : in no one instance has Moliere delineated such va- riety of manners, or displayed so much of his inimitable gayety and power of fasci- nating the audience with very little plot, by the mere exhibition of human follies. The satire falls deservedly on pretenders to taste and literature, for whom Moliere always testifies a bitterness of scorn, in which we perceive some resentment of their criticisms. The shorter piece, enti- tled Les Precieuses Ridicules, is another shaft directed at the literary ladies of Par- is. They had provoked a dangerous ene- my ; but the good taste of the next age might be ascribed in great measure to his unmerciful exposure of affectation and pedantry. 27. It was not easy, so late as the age of Moliere, for the dramatist to find Tarluffe any untrodden field in the follies and vices of mankind. But one had been reserved for him in Tartuffe religious hypocrisy. We should have expected the original draught of such a character on the English stage ; nor had our old writers been forgetful of their inveterate enemies, the Puritans, who gave such full scope for their satire. But, choosing rather the easy path of ridicule, they fell upon the starch dresses and quaint language of the fanati- cal party ; and, where they exhibited these in conjunction with hypocrisy, made the latter more ludicrous than hateful. The Luke of Massinger is deeply and villan- ously dissembling, but does not wear so conspicuous a garb of religious sanctity as Tartuffe. The comedy of Moliere is not only original in this character, but is a new creation in dramatic poetry. It has been doubted by some critics whether the depth of guilt it exhibits the serious ha- tred it inspires, are not beyond the strict province of comedy. But this seems FROM 1650 TO 1700. 39i rather a technical cavil. If subjects such as the Tartuffe are not fit for comedy, they are at least fit for dramatic repre- sentation, and some new phrase must be invented to describe their class. 28. A different kind of objection is still sometimes made to this play, that it brings religion itself into suspicion. And this would no doubt have been the case, if the contemporaries of Moliere in Eng- land had dealt with the subject. But the boundaries between the reality and its false appearances are so well guarded in this comedy, that no reasonable ground of exception can be thought to remain. No better advice can be given to those who take umbrage at the Tartuffe than to read it again. For there may be good reason to suspect that they are themselves among those for whose benefit it was intended ; the Tartuffes, happily, may be compara- tively few; but, while the Orgons and Pernelles are numerous, they will not want their harvest. Moliere did not in- vent the prototypes of his hypocrite ; they were abundant at Paris in his time. 29. The interest of this play continually increases, and the fifth act is almost crowd- ed by a rapidity of events, not so usual on the French stage as our own. Tartuffe himself is a masterpiece of skill. Per- haps in the cavils of La Bruyere there may be some justice ; but the essayist has forgotten that no character can be rendered entirely effective to an audience without a little exaggeration of its attri- butes. Nothing can be more happily con- ceived than the credulity of the honest Orgon, and his more doting mother ; it is that which we sometimes witness, incu- rable except by the evidence of the senses, and fighting every inch of ground against that. In such a subject there was not much opportunity for the comic talent of Moliere ; yet in some well-known passa- ges he has enlivened it as far as was pos- sible. The Tartuffe will generally be es- teemed the greatest effort of this author's genius ; the Misanthrope, the Femines Savantes, and the Ecole des Femmes will follow in various order, according to our tastes. These are by far the best of his comedies in verse. Among those in prose we may give the first place to L'Avare, and the next either to Le Bour- geois Gentilhomme, or to George Dan- din. 30. These two plays have the same ob- jects of moral satire : on one oSomme. hand, the absurd vanity of ple- Georgo Dan- beians in seeking the alliance or acquaintance of the nobility; on the other, the pride and meanness of the nobility themselves. They are both abundantly diverting; but the sallies of humour are, I think, more frequent in the first three acts of the former. The last two acts are improbable, and less amusing. The shorter pieces of Moliere border very much upon farce ; he permits himself more vulgarity of character, more gross- ness in language and incident; but his farces are seldom absurd, and never dull. 31. The French have claimed for Mo- liere, and few, perhaps, have dis- character of puted the pretension, a superi- Moliere. ority over all earlier and later writers of comedy. He certainly leaves Plautus, the original model of the school to which he belonged, at a vast distance. The grace and gentlemanly elegance of Terence he has not equalled ; but, in the more appro- priate merits of comedy, just and forcible delineation of character, skilful contri- vance of circumstances, and humorous dialogue, we must award him the prize. The Italian and Spanish dramatists are quite unworthy to be named in compari- son ; and if the French theatre has in later times, as is certainly the case, pro- duced some excellent comedies, we have, I believe, no reason to contradict the suf- frage of the nation itself, that they owe almost as much to what they have caught from this great model as to the natural genius of their authors. But it is not for us to abandon the rights of Shakspeare. In all things most essential to comedy, we cannot acknowledge his inferiority to Mo- liere. He had far more invention of char- acters, and an equal vivacity and force in their delineation. His humour was at least as abundant and natural, his wit in- comparably more brilliant ; in fact, Mo- liere hardly exhibits this quality at all. The Merry Wives of Windsor, almost the only pure comedy of Shakspeare, is surely not disadvantageously compared with George Dandin, or Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, or even with L'Ecole des Femmes. For the Tartuffe or the Misan- thrope it is vain to seek a proper counter- part in Shakspeare ; they belong to a dif- ferent state of manners. But the powers of Moliere are directed with greater skill to their object ; none of his energy is wasted ; the spectator is not interrupted by the serious scenes of tragi-comedy, nor his attention drawn aside by poetical episodes. Of Shakspeare we may justly say that he had the greater genius, but perhaps of Moliere that he has written the best comedies. We cannot, at least, put any later dramatist in competition with him. Fletcher and Jonson,Wycher- ley and Congreve, Farquhar and Sheridan, LITERATURE OF EUROPE with great excellences of their own, fall short of his merit as well as his fame. Yet in humorous conception, our admira- ble play, the Provoked Husband, the best parts of which are due to Vanbrugh, seems to be equal to anything he has left. His spirited and easy versification stands, of course, untouched by any English rivalry ; we may have been wise in rejecting verse from ourstage, but we have certainly given the French a right to claim all the honour that belongs to it. 32. Racine once only attempted comedy. Les Plaideurs His wit was quick and sarcastic, of Racine. an d in epigram he did not spare his enemies. In his Plaideurs there is more of humour and stage-effect than of wit. The ridicule falls happily on the pedantry of lawyers and the folly of suiters ; but the technical language is lost in great measure upon the audience. This comedy, if it be not rather a farce, is taken from The Wasps of Aristophanes ; and that Rabelais of antiquity supplied an ex- travagance, very improbably introduced into the third act of Les Plaideurs, the trial of the dog. Far from improving the humour, which had been amusingly kept up during the first two acts, this degener- ates into nonsense. 33. Regnard is always placed next to Regnard. Moliere among the comic writers Le Joueur. o f France in this, and perhaps in any age. The plays, indeed, which en- title him to such a rank, are but few. Of these the best is acknowledged to be Le Joueur. Regnard, taught b^ his own ex- perience, has here admirably delineated the character of an inveterate gamester ; without parade of morality, few comedies are more usefully moral. We have not the struggling virtues of a Charles Surface, which the dramatist may feign that he may reward at the fifth act ; Regnard has better painted the selfish, ungrateful being, who, though not incapable of love, pawns his mistress's picture, the instant after she has given it to him, that he may return to the dicebox. Her just abandonment and his own disgrace terminate the comedy with a moral dignity which the stage does not always maintain, and which, in the first acts, the spectator does not expect. The other characters seem to me various, spirited, and humorous ; the valet of Valere the gamester is one of the best of that numerous class to whom comedy has owed so much; but the pretended marquis, though diverting, talks too much like a genuine coxcomb of the world. Moliere did this better in Les Precieuses Ridicules. Regnard is in this play full of those gay sallies which cannot be read without laughter ; the incidents follow rapidly ; there is more movement than in some of the best of Moliere's comedies, and the speeches are not so prolix. 34. Next to Le Joueur among Regnard's comedies it has been usual to place uis other Le Legataire, not by any means plays. inferior to the first in humour and vivacity, but with less force of character, and more of the common tricks of the stage. The moral, instead of being excellent, is of the worst kind, being the success and dramatic reward of a gross fraud, the forgery of a will by the hero of the piece and his ser- vant. This servant is, however, a very comical rogue, and we should not, perhaps, wish to see him sent to the galleys. A similar censure might be passed ou the comedy of Regnard which stands third in reputation, Les Menechmes. The subject, as explained by the title, is old : twin- brothers, whose undistinguishable features are the source of endless confusion ; but, what neither Plautus nor Shakspeare have thought of, one avails himself of the like- ness to receive a large sum of money due to the other, and is thought very generous at the close of the play when he restores a moiety. Of the plays founded on this diverting exaggeration, Regnard's is perhaps the best ; he has more variety of incident than Plautus ; and, by leaving out the second pair of twins, the Dromio servants, which renders the Comedy of Errors almost too inextricably confused for the spectator or reader, as well as by making one of the brothers aware of the mistake and a party in the deception, he has given a unity of plot instead of a series of incoherent blunders. 35. The Mere Coquette of Quinault ap- pears a comedy of great merit. Quinault. Without the fine traits of nature Boursauit. which we find in those of Moliere ; without the sallies of humour which enliven those of Regnard; with a versification perhaps not very forcible, it pleases us by a fable at once novel, as far as I know, and natural, by the interesting characters of the lovers, by the decency and tone of good company, which are never lost in the manners, the incidents, or the language. Boursault, whose tragedies are little esteemed, dis- played some originality in Le Mercure Galant. The idea is one which has not unfrequently been imitated on the English as well as French stage, but it is rather adapted to the shorter drama than to a regular comedy of five acts. The Mercure Galant was a famous magazine of light periodical amusement, such as was then new in France, which had a great sale, and is described in a few lines by one of FROM 1650 TO 1700. 393 Dancourr. the characters in this piece.* Boursault places his hero, by the editor's consent, as a temporary substitute in the office of this publication, and brings, in a series of detached scenes, a variety of applicants for his notice. A comedy of this kind is like a compound animal ; a few chief char- acters must give unity to the whole, but the effect is produced by the successive personages \vho pass over the stage, dis- play their humour in a single scene, and disappear. Boursault has been in some instances successful ; but such pieces gen- erally owe too much to temporary sources of amusement. 36. Dancourt, as Voltaire has said, holds f. h sa nk relatively to Mo- here in farce that Regnard does in the higher comedy. He came a little after the former, and when the prejudice that had been created against comedies in prose by the great success of the other kind had begun to subside. The Chevalier a la Mode is the only play of Dancourt that I know ; it is much above farce, and, if length be a distinctive criterion, it ex- ceeds most comedies. This would be very slight praise if we could not add that the reader does not find it one page too long ; that the ridicule is poignant and happy, the incidents well contrived, the comic situations amusing, the characters clearly marked. La Harpe, who treats Dancourt with a sort of contempt, does not so much as mention this play. It is a satire on the pretensions of a class then rising, the rich financiers, which long supplied materials, through dramatic caricature, to public malignity, and the envy of a less opulent aristocracy. 37. The life of Brueys is rather singu- lar. Born of a noble Huguenot fam- 8 ' ily, he was early devoted to Prot- estant theology, and even presumed to enter the lists against Bossuet. But that champion of the faith was like one of those knights in romance, who first unhorse their rash antagonists, and then make them work as slaves. Brueys was soon converted, and betook himself to write against his former errors. He afterward became an ecclesiastic. Thus far there is nothing much out of the common course in his history. But, grown weary of liv- * Le Mercnre est une bonne chose : On y trouve de tout, fable, histoire, vers, prose, Sieges, combats, proces, mort, mariage, amour, Nouvelles de province, et nouvelles de cour Jamais livre a mon gre ne fut plus necessairo. Act i , scene 2. The Mercure Galant was established in 1672 by one Vise ; it was intended to fill the same place as a critical record of polite literature, which the Jour- nal des S^avans did m learning and science. VOL. II. 3 D ing alone, and having some natural turn to comedy, he began, rather late, to write for the stage, with the assistance, or, perhaps, only under the name of a certain Paraprat. The plays of Brueys had some success ; but he was not in a position to delineate recent manners, and in the only comedy with which I am acquainted, Le Muet, he has borrowed the leading part of his story from Terence. The language seems defi- cient in vivacity, which, when there is no great naturalness or originality of charac- ter, cannot be dispensed with. 38. The French opera, after some inef- fectual attempts by Mazarin to nat- operas or uralize an Italian company, was Uumauit. successfully established by Lulli in 1672. It is the prerogative of music in the melo- drama to render poetry its dependant al- ly ; but the airs of Lulli have been forgot- ten, and the verses of his coadjutor Qui- nault remain. He is not only the earliest, but, by general consent, the unrivalled poet of French music. Boileau, indeed, treated him with undeserved scorn, but probably through dislike of the tone he was obliged to preserve, which, in the eyes of so stern a judge, and one so insensible to love, ap- peared languid and effeminate. Quinault, nevertheless, was not incapable of vigor- ous and impressive poetry ; a lyric gran- deur distinguishes some of his songs ; he seems to possess great felicity of adorning every subject with appropriate imagery and sentiment ; his versification has a smoothness and charm of melody which has made some say that the lines were al- ready music before they came to the com- poser's hands ; his fables, whether taken from mythology or modern romance, dis- play invention and skill. Voltaire, La Harpe, Schlegel, and the author of the life of Quinault in the Biographie Universelle, but, most of all, the testimony of the pub- lic, have compensated for the severity of Boileau. The Armide is Quinault's latest and also his finest opera. SECT. II. ON THE ENGLISH DRAMA. State of the Stage after the Restoration. Trage- dies of Dryden, Otway, Southern. Comedies of Congreve and others. 39. THE troubles of twenty years, and, much more, the fanatical antipa- R eTiva j of thy to stage-plays which the pre- ihe Kngiish dominant party affected, silenced tht!atre - the muse of the buskin, and broke the continuity of those works of the elder dramatists, which had given a tone to pub- lic sentiment as to the drama from the middle of Elizabeth's reign. Davenant 394 LITERATURE OF EUROPE had, by a sort of connivance, opened < small house fort-he representation of plays though not avowedly so called, near the Charter House in 1656. He obtained a patent after the Restoration. By this time another generation had arisen, and the scale of taste was to be adjusted anew. The fondness for the theatre revived with increased avidity ; more splendid decora- tion, actors probably, especially Betterton, of greater powers, and, above all, the at- traction of female performers, who had never been admitted on the older stage, conspired with the keen appetite that long restraint produced, and with the general gayety, or, rather, dissoluteness of man- ners. Yet the multitude of places for such amusement was not as great as under the first Stuarts. Two houses only were opened by royal patents, granting them an exclusive privilege, one by what was call- ed the King's Company, in Drury Lane, another by the Duke of York's Company, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Betterton, who was called the English Roscius, till Gar- rick claimed the title, was sent to Paris by Charles II., that, taking a view of the French stage, he might better judge of what would contribute to the improvement of our own. It has been said, and proba- bly with truth, that he introduced movea- ble scenes instead of the fixed tapestry that had been hung across the stage ; but this improvement he could not have bor- rowed from France. The king not only countenanced the theatre by his patron- age, but by so much personal notice of the chief actors, and so much interest in all the affairs of the theatre as elevated their condition. 40. An actor of great talents is the best Change of friend of the great dramatists ; public taste, his own genius demands theirs for its support and display ; and a fine performer would as soon waste the powers of his hand on feeble music, as a man like Betterton or Garrick represent what is in- sipid or in bad taste. We know that the former, and some of his contemporaries, were celebrated in the great parts of our early stage, in those of Shakspeare and Fletcher. But the change of public taste is sometimes irresistible by those who, as, in Johnson's antithesis, they " live to please, must please to live." Neither tra- gedy nor comedy was maintained at its proper level ; and, as the world is apt to demand novelty on the stage, the general tone of dramatic representation in this pe- riod, whatever credit it may have done to the performers, reflects little, in compari- son with our golden age, upon those who wrote for them. 41. It is observed by Scott, that the French theatre, which was now Im cauge , thought to be in perfection, guided the criticisms of Charles's court, and af- forded the pattern of those tragedies which continued in fashion for twenty years af- ter the Restoration, and which were called rhyming or heroic plays. Though there is a general justice in this remark, 1 arn not aware that the inflated' tone of these plays is imitated from any French tragedy ; certainly there was a nobler model in the best works of Corneille. But Scott is more right in deriving the unnatural and pedantic dialogue which prevailed through these performances from the romances of Scudery and Calprenede. These were, about the era of the Restoration, almost as popular among the indolent gentry as in France ; and it was to be expected that a style would gain ground in tragedy, which is not so widely removed from what tragedy requires, but that an ordinary au- dience would fail to perceive the differ- ence. There is but a narrow line be- tween the sublime and the tumid ; the man of business or of pleasure who frequents the theatre must have accustomed himself to make such large allowances, to put him- self into a state of mind so totally differ- ent from his every-day habits, that, a little extraordinary deviation from nature, far from shocking him, will rather show like a farther advance towards excellence. Hotspur and Almanzor, Richard and Au- rungzebe, seem cast in the same mould ; beings who can never occur in the com- mon walks of life, but whom the trage- dian has, by a tacit convention with the audience, acquired\ right of feigning like his ghosts and witches. 42. The first tragedies of Dryden were what was called heroic, and writ- Heroic ten in rhyme ; an innovation tragedies which, of course, must be as- ofDr y den - scribed to the influence of the French theatre. They have occasionally much vigour of sentiment and much beautiful poetry, with a versification sweet even to lusciousness. The " Conquest of Grena- da" is, on account of its extravagance, the most celebrated of these plays ; but it is inferior to the " Indian Emperor," from which it would be easy to select passages of perfect elegance. It is singular that, although the rhythm of dramatic verse is commonly permitted to be the most lax of any, Dryden has in this play availed himself of none of his wonted privileges. He regularly closes the sense with the ouplet, and falls into a smoothness of ca dence which, though exquisitely melliflu- ous, is perhaps too uniform. In the Con- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 395 quest of Grenada the versification is rather more broken. 43. Dry den may probably have been His later fond of this species of tragedy, on traged.es. account of his own facility in rhyming, and his habit of condensing his sense. Rhyme, indeed, can only be re- jected in our language from the tragic scene, because blank verse affords wider scope for the emotions it ought to excite ; but for the tumid rhapsodies which the personages of his heroic plays utter there can be no excuse. He adhered to this tone, however, till the change in public taste, and especially the ridicule thrown on his own plays by the Rehearsal, drove him to adopt a very different, though not altogether faultless style of tragedy. His principal works of this latter class are " All for Love," in 1678, the Spanish Friar, commonly referred to 1682, and Don Se- bastian, in 1690. Upon these the dramatic fame of Dryden is built ; while the rants of Almanzor and Maximin are never men- tioned but in ridicule. The chief excel- lence of the first appears to consist in the beauty of the language, that of the second in the interest of the story, and that of the third in the highly-finished character of Dorax. Dorax is the best ol Dryden's tra- gic characters, and perhaps the only one in which he has applied his great knowl- edge of the human rnind to actual delinea- tion. It is highly dramatic, because form- ed of those complex passions which may readily lead either to virtue or to vice, and which the poet can manage so as to sur- prise the spectator without transgressing ery, which is so much dwelt upon by the critics ; nor can the story of CEdipus, which has furnished one of the finest and most artful tragedies ever written, be well thought an improper subject even for rep- resentation. But they require, of all oth- ers, to be dexterously managed ; they may make the main distress of a tragedy, but not an- episode in it. Our feelings revolt at seeing, as in Don Sebastian, an incestu- ous passion brought forward as the make- weight of a plot, to eke out a fifth act, and to dispose of those characters whose for- tune the main story has not quite wound up. consistency. The Zanga of Young, a part of some theatrical effect, has been com- pounded of this character and of that of Von sei>as- lago. But Don Sebastian is as tian. imperfect as all plays must be in which a single personage is thrown for- ward in too strong relief for the rest. The language is full of that rant which charac- terized Dryden's earlier tragedies, and to which a natural predilection seems, after some interval, to have brought him back. Sebastian himself may seem to have been intended as a contrast to Muley Moloch ; but, if the author had any rule to distin- guish the blustering of the hero from that of the tyrant, he has not left the use of it in his reader's hands. The plot of this tragedy is ill conducted, especially in the fifth act. Perhaps the delicacy of the present age may have been too fastidious in excluding altogether from the drama this class of stories, because they may often excite great interest, give scope to impassioned poetry, and are admirably calculated for the avayvupimc, or discov- 44. The Spanish Friar has been praised for what Johnson calls the " happy Spanish coincidence and coalition of the v^**- two plots." It is difficult to understand what can be meant by a compliment which seems either ironical or ignorant. No- thing can be more remote from the truth. The artifice of combining two distinct sto- ries on the stage is, we may suppose, ei- ther to interweave the incidents of one into those of the other, or, at least, so to connect some characters with each in- trigue as to make the spectator fancy them less distinct than they are. Thus, in the Merchant of Venice, the courtship of Bassanio and Portia is happily connect- ed with the main plot of Antonio and Shy- lock by two circumstances; it is to set Bassanio forward in his suit that the fatal bond is first given ; and it is by Portia's address that its forfeiture is explained away. The same play affords an instance of another kind of underplot, that of Lo- renzo and Jessica, which is more episodi- cal, and might, perhaps, be removed with- out any material loss to the fable ; though even this serves to account for, we do not say to palliate, the vindictive exasperation of the Jew. But to which of these do the comic scenes in the Spanish Friar bear most resemblance ] Certainly to the lat- ter. They consist entirely of an intrigue which Lorenzo, a young officer, carries on with a rich usurer's wife ; but there is not, even by accident, any relation between his adventures and the love and murder which go forward in the palace. The Spanish Friar, so far as it is a comedy, is reckoned the best performance of Dry- den in that line. Father Dominic is very amusing, and has been copied very freely by succeeding dramatists, especially in the Duenna. But Dryden has no great abun- dance of wit in this or any of his comedies. His jests are practical, and he seems to have written more for the eye than the ear. It may he noted, as a proof of this, that his stage directions are unusually full. 396 LITERATURE OF EUROPE In point of diction, the Spanish Friar in its tragic scenes, and All for Love, are certainly the best plays of Dryden. They are the least infected with his great fault, bombast, and should, indeed, be read over and over by those who would learn the true tone of English tragedy. In dignity, in animation, in striking images and fig- ures, there are few or none that excel them ; the power, indeed, of impressing sympathy or commanding tears was sel- dom placed by Nature within the reach of Dryden. 45. The Orphan of Otway, and his Ven- otway * ce Preserved, will generally be reckoned the best tragedies of this period. They have both a deep pathos, springing from the intense and unmerited distress of women ; both, especially the latter, have a dramatic eloquence, rapid and flowing, with less of turgid extrava- gance than we find in Otway's contempo- raries, and sometimes with very graceful poetry. The story of the Orphan is do- mestic, and evidently borrowed from some French novel, though I do not at present remember where I have read it ; it was once popular on the stage, and gave scope for good acting, but is unpleasing to the delicacy of our own age. Venice Pre- served is more frequently represented than any tragedy after those of Shaks- peare ; the plot is highly dramatic in con- ception and conduct ; even what seems, when we read it, a defect, the shifting of our wishes, or perhaps, rather, of our ill wishes, between two parties, the senate and the conspirators, who are redeemed by no virtue, does not, as is shown by ex- perience, interfere with the spectator's in- terest. Pierre, indeed, is one of those vil- lains for whom it is easy to excite the sympathy of the half-principled and the inconsiderate. But the great attraction is in the character of Belvidera ; and when that part is represented by such as we re- member to have seen, no tragedy is hon- oured by such a tribute, not of tears alone, but of more agony than many would seek to endure. The versification of Otway, like that of most in this period, runs al- most to an excess into the line of eleven syllables, sometimes also into the sdruc- ciolo form, or twelve syllables with a dac- tylic close. These give a considerable an- imation to tragic verse. 46. Southern's Fatal Discovery, latterly represented by the name of Isa- Souihern. , r . . > . . bella, is almost as familiar to the lovers of our theatre as Venice Preserved itself; and for the same reason, that when- ever an actress of great tragic powers arises, the part of Isabella is as fitted to exhibit them as that of Belvidera. The choice and conduct of the story are, how- ever, Southern's chief merits ; for there is little vigour in the language, though it is natural and free from the usual faults of his age. A similar character may be giv en to his other tragedy, Oroonoko ; in which Southern deserves the praise of having, first of any English writer, de nounced the traffic in slaves, and the cruel ties of their West Indian bondage. The moral feeling is high in this tragedy ; and it has sometimes been acted with a cer- tain success ; but the execution is not that of a superior dramatist. Of Lee no- thing need be said, but that he is, in spite of his proverbial extravagance, a man of poetical mind and some dramatic skill. But he has violated historic truth in The- odosius without gaining much by inven- tion. The Mourning Bride of Con- Congrev& greve is written in prolix declama- tion, with no power over the passions. Johnson is well known to have praised a few lines in this tragedy as among the finest descriptions in the language ; while others, by a sort of contrariety, have spo- ken of them as worth nothing. Truth is in its usual middle path; many better pas- sages may be found, but they are well written and impressive.* 47. In the early English comedy we find a large intermixture of ob- comedies of scenity in the lower characters, Charles ii.'s nor always confined to them, reign ' with no infrequent scenes of licentious in- cident and language. But these are inva- riably so brought forward as to manifest the dramatist's scorn of vice, and to excite no other sentiment in a spectator of even an ordinary degree of moral purity. In the plays that appeared after the Resto- ration, and that from the beginning, a dif- ferent tone was assumed. Vice was in her full career on the stage, unchecked by reproof, unshamed by contrast, and for the most part unpunished by mortification at the close. Nor are these less coarse in expression, or less impudent in their de- lineation of low debauchery, than those of the preceding period. It may be observ- ed, on the contrary, that they rarely ex- hibit the manners of truly polished life, according to any notions we can frame of them, and are, in this respect, much below those of Fletcher. Massinger, and Shirley. It might not be easy, perhaps, to find a scene in any comedy of Charles II. 's reign where one character has the beha- viour of a gentleman, in the sense we at- * Mourning Bride, Act ii., scene 3. Johnson's Life of Congreve. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 397 ,ch to the word. Yet the authors of .hese were themselves in the world, and sometimes men of family and considera- ble station. The cause must be found in the state of society itself, debased as well as corrupted, partly by the example of the court, partly by the practice of living in taverns, which became much more invet- erate after the Restoration than before. The contrast with the manners of Paris, as far as the stage is their mirror, does not tell to our advantage. These plays, as it may be expected, do not aim at the higher glories of comic writing ; they dis- play no knowledge of nature, nor often rise to any other conception of character than is gained by a caricature of some known class, or perhaps of some remark- able individual. Nor do they, in general, deserve much credit as comedies of in- trigue ; the plot is seldom invented with much care for its development ; and if scenes follow one another in a series of diverting incidents ; if the entanglements are such as produce laughter; above all, if the personages keep up a well-sustained battle of repartee, the purpose is sufficient- ly answered. It is in this that they often excel ; some of them have considerable humour in the representation of character, though this may not be very original, and a good deal of wit in their dialogue. 48. Wycherley is remembered for two w Theriey come dies, the Plain Dealer and the Country Wife, the latter rep- resented with some change, in modern times, under the name of the Country Girl. The former has been frequently said to be taken from the Misanthrope of Moliere ; but this, like many current assertions, seems to have little, if any, foundation. Manly, the Plain Dealer, is, like Aleeste, a speaker of truth : but the idea is at least one which it was easy to conceive without plagiarism, and there is not the slightest resemblance in any circumstance or scene of the two comedies. We cannot say the same of the Country Wife ; it was evi- dently suggested by L'Ecole des Fcmmes ; the character of Arnolphe has been cop- ied ; but even here the whole conduct of the piece of Wycherley is his own. It is more artificial than that of Moliere, wherein too much passes in description ; the part of Agnes is rendered still more poignant; and, among the comedies of Charles's reign, I am not sure that it is surpassed by any. 49. Shadwell and Etherege, and the fa- improvement mous Afra Behn, have endeav- artertheRev- cured to make the stage as oiution. Crossly immoral as their tal- ents permitted; but the two former are not destitute of humour. At the death of Charles it had reached the lowest point; after the Revolution it became not much more a school of virtue, but rather a bet- ter one of polished manners than before ; and certainly drew to its service some men of comic genius, whose names are now not only very familiar to our ears, as the boasts of our ( theatre, but whose works have not all ceased to enliven its walls. 50. Congreve, by the Old Bachelor, writ ten, as some have said, at twenty- ,. / i . f J . Conereve one years of age, but, in fact, not quite so soon, and represented in 1693, placed himself at once in a rank which he has always retained. Though not, I think, the first, he is undeniably among the first names. The Old Bachelor was quickly followed by the Double Dealer, and that by Love for Love, in which he reached the summit of his reputation. The last, of his four comedies, the Way of the World, is said to have been coldly received ; for which it is hard to assign any sub- stantial cause, unless it be some want of sequence in the plot. The peculiar excel- lence of Congreve is his wit, incessantly sparkling from the lips of almost every character, but on this account it is accom- panied by want of nature and simplicity. Nature, indeed, and simplicity do not be- long, as proper attributes, to that comedy which, itself the creature of an artificial society, has for its proper business to ex- aggerate the affection and hollowncss of the world. A critical code, which should require the comedy of polite life to be nat- ural, would make it intolerable. But there are limits of deviation from likeness which even caricature must not trans- gress ; and the type of truth should always regulate the playful aberrations of an in- ventive pencil. The manners of Con- greve's comedies are not, to us at least, like those of reality ; I am pot sure that we have any cause to suppose that they much better represent the times in which they appeared. His characters, with an exception or two, are heartless and vi- cious ; which, on being attacked by Col- lier, he justified, probably by an after- thought, on the authority of Aristotle's definition of comedy ; that it is p/wif ^at^orepuv, an imitation of what is the worse in human nature.* But it must be acknowledged that, more than any pre- ceding writer among us, he kept up the tone of a gentleman ; his men of the world are profligate, but not coarse ; he rarely, * Congreve's Amendments of Mr. Collier's false citations. 393 LITERATURE OF EUROPE like Shadwell, or even Dryden, caters for the populace of the theatre by such inde- cencies as they must understand ; he gave, in fact, a tone of refinement to the public taste, which it never lost, and which, in its progression, lias banished his own comedies from the stage. 51. Love Tor Love is generally reputed Love for the best of these. Congreve has Love, never any great success in the con- ception or management of his plot ; but in this comedy there is least to censure ; sev- eral of the characters are exceedingly hu- morous; the incidents are numerous and not. complex ; the wit is often admirable. Angelica and Miss Prue, Ben and Tattle, have been repeatedly imitated ; but they have, I think, a considerable degree of dra- matic originality in themselves. Johnson has observed that Ben the sailor is not reckoned over natural, but he is very di- verting. Possibly he may be quite as nat- ural a portrait of a mere sailor as that to which we have become used in modern comedy. 52. The Way of the World I should per- iiis other haps incline to place next to this ; jometiies. t ne coquetry of Millamant, not without some touches of delicacy and af- fection, the impertinent coxcombry of Pet- ulant and Witwood, the mixture of wit and ridiculous vanity in Lady Wishfort, are amusing to the reader. Congreve has here made more use than, as far as I re- member, had been common in England, of the all-important soubrette, on whom so much depends in French comedy. The manners of France happily enabled her dramatists to improve what they had bor- rowed with signal success from the ancient stage, the witty and artful servant, faith- ful to his master while he deceives every one besides, by adding this female attend- ant, not less versed in every artifice, nor less quick in repartee. Mincing and Foi- ble, in this play of Congreve, are good specimens of the class ; but, speaking with some hesitation, I do not think they will be found, at least not so naturally drawn, in the comedies of Charles's time. Many would, perhaps not without cause, prefer the Old Bachelor ; which abounds with wit, but seems rather deficient in original- ity of character and circumstance. The Double Dealer is entitled to the same praise of wit, and some of the characters, though rather exaggerated, are amusing ; but the plot is so entangled towards the conclusion, that I have found it difficult, even in reading, to comprehend it. 53. Congreve is not superior to Farqu- har and Vanbrugh, if we might Farquhar. compare the wholeof theirworks. vantmigh. Never has he equalled in vivacity, in ori- ginality of contrivance, or in clear and rapid development of intrigue, the Beau's Stratagem of the one, and, much less, the admirable delineation of the Wronghead family in the Provoked Husband of the other. But these were of the eighteenth century. Farquhar's Trip to the Jubilee, though once a popular comedy, is not dis- tinguished by more than an easy flow of wit, and perhaps a little novelty in some of the characters ; it is, indeed, written in much superior language to the plays anterior to the Revolution. But the Re- lapse and the Provoked Wife of Van- brugh have attained a considerable repu- tation. In the former the character of Amanda is interesting, especially in the momentary wavering and quick recovery of her virtue. This is the first homage that the theatre had paid, since the Resto- ration, to female chastity ; and, notwith- standing the vicious tone of the other characters, in which Vanbrugh has gone as great lengths as any of his contempo- raries, we perceive the beginnings of a reaction in public spirit, which gradually reformed and elevated the moral standard of the stage.* The Provoked Wife, though it cannot be said to give any proofs of this sort of improvement, has some merit as a comedy ; it is witty and animated, as Van- brugh usually was ; the character of Sir John Brute may not have been too great a caricature of real manners, ~uch as sur- vived from the debased reign of Charles ; and the endeavour to expose the gross- ness of the older generation was itself an evidence that a better polish had been given to social life. * This purification of English comedy has some- times been attributed to the effects of a famous es- say by Collier on the immorality of the English stage. But, if public opinion had not been prepared to go along, in a considerable degree, with Collier, his animadversions could have produced little change. In point of fact, the subsequent improve- ment was but slow, and, for some years, rather shown in avoiding coarse indecencies than in much elevation of sentiment. Steele's Conscious Lov- ers is the first comedy which can be called moral ; Gibber, in those parts of the Provoked Husband that he wrote, carried this farther, and the stage afterward grew more and more refined, till it be- came languid and sentimental. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 390 CHAPTER VII. HISTORY OF POLITE LITERATURE IN PROSE FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECTION I. Italy. High Refinement of French Language. Fonterielle. St. Evremond. Sevigne. Bou- hours and Kapin. Miscellaneous Writers. English Style, and Criticism. Dryden. 1. IF Italy could furnish no long list of I-owstateof COllSpicilOUS names in this de- literature in partment of literature to our Italy - last period, she is far more de- ficient in the present. The Prose Floren- tine of Dati, a collection of what seemed the best specimens of Italian eloquence in this century, served chiefly to prove its mediocrity, nor has that editor, by his own panegyric on Louis XIV. or any other of his writings, been able to redeem its name.* The sermons of Segneri have already been mentioned ; the eulogies be- stowed on them seem to be founded, in some measure, on the surrounding bar- renness. The letters of Magalotti, and, still more, of Redi, themselves philoso- phers, and generally writing on philoso- phy, seem to do more credit than any- thing else to this period. f 2. Crescimbeni, the founder of the Ar- . cadian Society, has made an Cresc.mbem. honourab]e name by his exer . tions to purify the national taste, as well as by his diligence in preserving the mem- ory of better ages than his own. His History of National Poetry is a laborious and useful work, to which I have some- times been indebted. His treatise on the beauty of that poetry is only known to me through Salfi. ft is, written in dia- logue, the speakers being Arcadians. Anx- ious to extirpate the school of the Mari- nists, without falling back altogether into that of Petrarch, he set up Costanzo as a model of poetry. Most of his precepts, Salfi observes, are very trivial at present ; but at the epoch of its appearance it was of great service towards the reform of Italian literature. f 3. This period, the second part of the Azeoriou- seventeenth century, compre- is xi v" in hends the most considerable, and, France. j n .every sense, the most impor- tant and distinguished portion of what was once called the great age in France, the reign of Louis XIV. In this period * Salfi, xiv., 25. Tiraboschi, xi., 412. t Salfi, xiv., 17. Corniani. viii., 71. t Salfi, xiii., 450. the literature of France was adorned by its most brilliant writers ; since, notwith- standing the genius and popularity of some who followed, we generally find a still higher place awarded by men of fine taste to Bossuet and Pascal than to Vol- taire and Montesquieu. The language was written with a care that might have fettered the powers of ordinary men, but rendered those of such as we have men- tioned more resplendent. The laws of taste and grammar, like those of nature, were held immutable ; it was the province of human genius to deal with them, as il does with nature, by a skilful employ- ment, not by a preposterous and ineffect- ual rebellion against their control. Puri- ty and perspicuity, simplicity and ease, were conditions of good writing : it was never thought that an author, especially in prose, might transgress the recognised idiom of his mother tongue, or invent words unknown to it, for the sake of ef- fect or novelty ; or, if in some rare occur- rence so bold a course might be forgiven, these exceptions were but as miracles in religion, which would cease to strike us, or be no miracles at all, but for the regu- larity of the laws to which they bear wit- ness even while they violate them. We have not thought it necessary to defer the praise which some great French writers have deserved on the score of their lan- guage for this chapter. Bossuet, Male- branche, Arnauld, and Pascal have alrea- dy been commemorated ; and it is suffi- cient to point out two causes in perpetual operation during this period which enno- bled and preserved in purity the literature of France ; one, the salutary influence of the Academy ; the other, that emulation between the Jesuits and Janscnists for public esteem, which was better display- ed in their politer writings than in the ab- struse and endless controversy of the five propositions. A few remain to be men- tioned ; and, as the subject of this chap- ter, in order to avoid frequent subdivisions, is miscellaneous, the reader must expect to find that we do not, in every instance, confine ourselves to what he may consider as polite letters. 4. Fontenelle, by the variety of his tal- ents, by their application to the FontMieii*: pursuits most congenial to the hi character. 400 LITERATURE OF EUROPE intellectual character of his contempora- ries, and by that extraordinary longevity which made those contemporaries not less than three generations of mankind, may be reckoned the best representative of French literature. Born in 1657, and dy- ing, within a few days of a complete cen- tury, in 1757, he enjoyed the most pro- tracted life of any among the modern learned ; and that a life in the full sun- shine of Parisian literature, without care and without disease. In nothing was Fontenelle a great writer; his mental and moral disposition resembled each other ; equable, without the capacity of perform- ing, and hardly of conceiving, anything truly elevated, but not less exempt from the fruits of passion, from paradox, unrea- sonableness, and prejudice. His best pro- ductions are, perhaps, the eulogies on the deceased members of the Academy of Sciences, which he pronounced during al- most forty years ; but these nearly all be- long to the eighteenth century ; they are just and candid, with sufficient, though not very profound, knowledge of the ex- act sciences, with a style pure and flow- ing, which his good sense had freed from some early affectation, and his cold temper as well as sound understanding restrain- ed from extravagance. In his first works we have symptoms of an infirmity be- longing more frequently to age than to youth ; but Fontenelle was never young in passion. He affects the tone of some- what pedantic and frigid gallantry, which seems to have survived the society of the Hotel Rambouillet who had countenanced it, and which borders too nearly on the language which Moliere and his disciples had well exposed in their coxcombs on the stage. 5. The Dialogues of the Dead, publish- iHs Dia- e d, I think, in 1685, are condemn- logues of ed by some critics for their false the Dead. taste all( j perpetual strain at some- thing unexpected and paradoxical. The leading idea is, of course, borrowed from Lucian ; but Fontenelle has aimed at greater poignancy by contrast ; the ghosts in his dialogues are exactly those who had least in common with each other in life, and the general object is to bring, by some happy analogy which had not oc- curred to the reader, or by some inge- nious defence of what he had been accus- tomed to despise, the prominences and depressions of historic characters to a level. This is what is always well re- ceived in the kind of society for which Fontenelle wrote ; but if much is mere sophistry in his dialogues, if the general tone is little above that of the world, there is also, what we often find in the world, some acuteness and novelty, and some things put in a light which it may be worth while not to neglect. 6. Fenelon, not many years afterward, copied the scheme, though not the Those of style, of Fontenelle in his own Di- Fenelon. alogues of the Dead, written for the use of his pupil the Duke of Burgundy. Some of these dialogues are not truly of the dead ; the characters speak as if on earth, and with earthly designs. They have cer- tainly more solid sense and a more eleva- ted morality than those of Fontenelle, to which La Harpe has preferred them. The noble zeal of Fenelon not to spare the vices of kings, in writing for the heir of one so imperious and so open to the cen- sure of reflecting minds, shines through- out these dialogues ; but, designed as they were for a boy, they naturally appear in some places rather superficial. 7. Fontenelle succeeded better in his famous dialogues on the Plural- Fonteneiie's ity of Worlds, Les Mondes;sin Plurality of which, if the conception is not Worlds - wholly original, he has at least developed it with so much spirit and vivacity, that it would show as bad taste to censure his work as to reckon it a model for imita- tion. It is one of those happy ideas which have been privileged monopolies of the first inventor ; and it will be found, accordingly, that all attempts to copy this whimsical union of gallantry with sci- ence have been insipid almost to a ridicu- lous degree. Fontenelle thrown so much gayety and wit into his compliments to the lady whom he initiates into his theory, that we do not confound them with the nonsense of coxcombs ; and she is her- self so spirited, unaffected, and clever, that no philosopher could be ashamed of gallantry towards so deserving an object. The fascinating paradox, as then it seem- ed, though our children are now taught to lisp it, that the moon, the planets, the fixed stars, are full of inhabitants, is presented with no more show of science than was indispensable, but with a varying liveli ness that, if we may judge by the conse- quences, has served to convince as weK as amuse. The plurality of worlds had been suggested by Wilkins, and probably by some Cartesians in France ; but it was first rendered a popular tenet by this agreeable little book of Fontenelle, which had a great circulation in Europe. The ingenuity with which he obviates the dif- ficulties he is compelled to acknowledge is worthy of praise ; and a good deal of the popular truths of physical astronomy is found in these dialogues. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 401 8. The History of Oracles, which Fon- His History tenelle published in 1687, is wor r oracles, thy of observation as a sign of the change that was working in literature In the provinces of erudition and of polite letters, long so independent, perhaps evei so hostile, some tendency towards a coa- lition began to appear. The men of the world, especially after they had acquiret a free temper of thinking in religion, anc become accustomed to talk about philoso- phy, desired to know something of the questions which the learned disputed ; but they demanded this knowledge by a short and easy road, with no great sacrifice of their leisure or attention. Fontenelle, in the History of Oracles, as in the dialogues on the Plurality of Worlds, prepared a repast for their taste. A dull work of a learned Dutch physician, Van Dale, had taken up the subject of the ancient ora- cles, and explained them by human im- posture instead of that of the devil, which had been the more orthodox hypothesis. A certain degree of paradox, or want of orthodoxy, already gave a zest to a book in France ; and Fontenelle's lively man- ner, with more learning than good society at Paris possessed, and about as much as it could endure, united to a clear and acute line of argument, created a popularity for his History of Oracles which we cannot reckon altogether unmerited.* 9. The works of St. Evreraond were St. Evre- collected after his death in 1705 ; mond. b u t many had been printed before, and he evidently belongs to the latter half of the seventeenth century. The fame of St. Evremond as a brilliant star, during a long life, in the polished aristocracy of ttfcnee and England, gave, for a time, a considerable lustre to his writings, the greater paj-t of which are such effusions as the daily intercourse of good company called forth. In verse or in prose, he is the gallant friend, rather than lover, of la- dies who, secure, probably, of love in some other quarter, were proud of the friendship of a wit. He never, to do him justice, mistakes his character, which, as his age was not a little advanced, might have in- curred ridicule. Hortense Mancini, duch- ess of Mazarin, is his heroine ; but we take little interest in compliments to a woman neither respected in her life nor remembered since. Nothing can be more trifling than the general character of the writings of St. Evremond ; but sometimes he rises to literary criticism, or even civil * I have riot compared, or indeed read, Van Dale's work ; but I rathei suspect that some of the reasoning, not the learning, of Fontenelle is ori- ginal. VOL. II. 3 E history ; and on such topics he is clear, unaffected, cold, without imagination or sensibility; a type of the frigid being, whom an aristocratic and highly-polished society is apt to produce. The chief merit of St. Evremond is in his style and manner; he has less wit than Voiture, who contributed to form him, or than Voltaire, whom he contributed to form ; but he shows neither the effort of the for- mer nor the restlessness of the latter. Voltaire, however, when he is most quiet, as in the earliest and best of his historical works, seems to bear a considerable re- semblance to St. Evremond, and there can be no doubt that he was familiar with the latter's writings. 10. A woman has the glory of being full as conspicuous in the graces Madame de of style as any writer of this fa- Sevjgn*. mous age. It is evident that this was Madame de Sevigne. Her letters, indeed, were not published till the eighteenth cen- tury, but they were written in the midday of Louis's reign. Their ease and freedom from affectation are more striking by con- trast with the two epistolary styles which had been most admired in France : that ol Balzac, which is laboriously tumid, and that of Voiture, which becomes insipid by dint of affectation. Every one perceives that in the letters of a mother to her daughter, the public, in a strict sense, is not thought of; and yet the habit of speaking and writing what men of wit and taste would desire to hear and read, gives a certain mannerism, I will not say air of effort, even to the letters of Madame de Sevigne. The abandonment of the leart to its casual impulses is not so gen- uine as in some that have sjnce been pubr .ished. It is at least clear that it is pos- sible to become affected in copying her unaffected style ; and some of Walpole's etters bear witness to this. Her wit and ;alent of painting by single touches are very eminent ; scarcely any collection of etters, which contain so little that can in- terest a distant age, are read with such pleasure ; if they have any general fault, t is a little monotony and excess of affec- ion towards her daughter, which is rcpoit- 3d to have wearied its object ; and, in con- trast with this, a little want of sensibility towards all beyond her immediate friends, and a readiness to find something ludicrous n the dangers and sufferings of others.* * The proofs of this are numerous enough in ler letters. In one of them she mentions that a ady of her acquaintance, having been bitten by a Tiad dog, had gone to be dipped in the sea, and unuses herself by taking off the provincial accent .vitL which she will express herself on the nrs> 402 LITERATURE OF EUROPE 11. The French Academy had been so The French judicious, both in the choice of Academy, its members and in the general tenour of its proceedings, that it stood very high in public esteem, and a volun- tary deference was commonly shown to its authority. The favour of Louis XIV., when he grew to manhood, was accorded as amply as that of Richelieu. The Acad- emy was received by the king, when they approached him publicly, with the same ceremonies as the superior courts of jus- tice. This body had, almost from its commencement, undertaken a national dictionary, which should carry the lan- guage to its utmost perfection, and trace a road to the highest eloquence that de- pended on purity and choice of words ; more than this could not be given by man. The work proceeded very slowly ; and dictionaries were published in the mean xime, one by Richelet in 1680, another by Furetiere. The former seems to be little more than a glossary of technical or other- wise doubtful words ;* but the latter, though pretending to contain only terms of art and science, was found, by its definitions and by the authorities it quoted, to interfere so much with the project of the academi- cians, who had armed themselves with an exclusive privilege, that they not only ex- pelled Furetiere from their body, on the allegation that he had availed himself of materials intrusted to him by the Acade- my for its own dictionary, but instituted a long process at law to hinder its publica- tion. This was in 1685 ; and the diction- ary of Furetiere only appeared after his death, at Amsterdam, in 1690.f Whatever may have been the delinquency, moral or legal, of this compiler, his dictionary is praised by Goujet as a rich treasure, in which almost everything is found that we can desire for a sound knowledge of the language. It has been frequently reprint- plunge. She makes a jest of La Voisin's execu- tion ; and, though that person was as little entitled to sympathy as any one, yet, when a woman is burned alive, it is not usual for another woman to turn it into drollery. Madame de Sevigne's taste has been arraigned for slighting Racine ; and she has been charged with the unfortunate prediction, II passera comme le cafe. But it is denied that these words can be found, though few like to give up so diverting a miscalculation of futurity. In her time Corneille's party was so well supported, and he deserved so much gratitude and reverence, that we cannot much wonder at her being carried a little too far against his rival. Who has ever seen a woman just towards the rivals of her friends, though many are just towards their own ? * Goujet Baillet, n. 762. t Pehsson, Hist, de PAcademie (continuation par Olivet), p. 47. Goujet, Bibliotheque Franchise, i., 232, et post. BiDgr. Univ., art. Furetiere. ed, and continued long in esteem. But the dictionary of the Academy, which was published in 1694, claimed an authority to which that of a private man could not pretend. Yet the first edition seems to have rather disappointed the public ex- pectation. Many objected to the want of quotations, and to the observance of an orthography that had become obsolete. The Academy undertook a revision of its work in 1700 ; and finally profiting by the public opinion on which it endeavoured to act, rendered this dictionary the most re- ceived standard of the French language.* 12. The Grammaire Generale et Rai- sonnee of Lancelot, in which Ar- French nauld took a considerable share, Grammars, is rather a treatise on the philosophy of all language than one peculiar to the French. " The best critics," says Baillet, " ac- knowledge that there is nothing written by either the ancient or the modern gram- marians with so much justness and solid- ity. 1 '! Vigneul-Marville bestows upon it an almost equal eulogy. | Lancelot was copied in a great degree by Lami, in his Rhetoric or Art of Speaking, with little of value that is original. Vaugelas retained his place as the founder of sound gram- matical criticism, though his judgments have not been uniformly confirmed by the next generation. His remarks were edited, with notes, by Thomas Corneille, who had the reputation of an excellent gramma- rian.|| The observations of Menage on the French language, in 1675 and 1676, are said to have the fault of reposing too much on obsolete authorities, even those of the six- teenth century, which had long been pro- scribed by a politer age.^f Notwithstand- ing the zeal of the Academy, no criti- cal laws could arrest the revolutions of speech. Changes came in witJuhe lapse of time, and were sanctioned by the im- perious rule of custom. In a book on grammar, published as early as 1688, Bal- zac and Voiture, even Patru and the Port- Royal writers, are called semi-moderns ;** so many new phrases had since made their way into composition, so many of theirs had acquired a certain air of antiquity. 13. The genius of the French language, as it was estimated in this age Rouhours by those who aspired to the char- Entretiens acter of good critics, may be ^"f^' learned from one of the dialogues * Pelisson, p. 69. Goujet, p. 261. t Jugemens des Scavans, n. 606. Goujet copies Baillet's words. t Melanges de Litterature, i., 124. Goujet, i.. 56. Gibert, p. 351. || Goujet, 146. Biogr. Univ. f Id., 153. ** Bibliotheque Universelle, xv., 351. Perrault makes a similar remark on Patru. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 403 in a work of Bouhours, Les Entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugene. Bouhours was a Jesuit, who affected a polite and lively tone, according to the fashion of his time, so as to warrant some degree of ridicule ; but a man of taste and judgment, whom, though La Harpe speaks of him with some dis- dain, his contemporaries quoted with re- spect. The first arid the most interesting at present of these conversations, which are feigned to take place between two gentlemen of literary taste, turns on the French language.* This he presumes to be the best of all modern; deriding the Spanish for its pomp, the Italian for its finical efFeminacy.f The French has the secret of uniting brevity with clearness, and with purity and politeness. The Greek and Latin are obscure where they are concise. The Spanish is always dif- fuse. The Spanish is a turbid torrent, often overspreading the country with great noise ; the Italian a gentle rivulet, occa- sionally given to inundate its meadows ; the French a noble river, enriching the adjacent lands, but with an equal majestic course of waters that never quits its level. J Spanish, again, he compares to an in- solent beauty, that holds her head high, and takes pleasure in splendid dress ; Italian to a painted coquette, always at- tired to please ; French to a modest and agreeable lady, who, if you may call her a prude, has nothing uncivil or repulsive in her prudery. Latin is the common mother ; but, while Italian has the sort of likeness to Latin which an ape bears to a man, in French we have the dignity, po- liteness, purity, and good sense of the Au- gustan age. The French have rejected almost all the diminutives once in use, and do not, like the Italians, admit the right of framing others. This language does not tolerate rhyming sounds in prose, nor even any kind of assonance, as amertume and fortune, near together. It rejects very bold metaphors, as the zenith of virtue, the apogee of glory ; and it is remarkable that * Bouhours points out several innovations which had lately come into use. He dislikes avoir des tntnagemens, or avoir de la consideration, and thinks these phrases would not last, in which he was mistaken. Tour de visage and tour d'esprit were new : the words/onrfs, mdsures, amities, compte, and many more, were used in new senses. Thus also OSSKZ and trap ; as the phrase, je ne svis pas trap de votre avis. It seems, on reflection, that some of the expressions he animadverts upon must have been affected while they were new, being in opposition to the correct meaning of words ; and it is always curious, in other languages as well as our own, to observe the comparatively recent nobility of many things quite established by present usage. Entre- tieS*e d'Ariste et d'Eugene, p. 95. t P. 52 (edit. 167J ). P. 77. its poetry is almost as hostile to metaphor as its prose.* " We have very few words merely poetical, and the language of our poets is not very different from that of the world. Whatever be the cause, it is cer- tain that a figurative style is neither good among us in verse nor in prose." This is evidently much exaggerated, and in con- tradiction to the known examples, at least, of dramatic poetry. All affectation and labour, he proceeds to say, are equally re- pugnant to a good French style. " If we would speak the language well, we should not try to speak it too well. It detests ex- cess of ornament ; it would almost desire that words should be, as it were, naked ; their dress must be no more than neces- sity and decency require. Its simplicity is averse to Compound words ; those ad- jectives whicn are formed by such a junc- ture of two, have long been exiled both from prose and verse. Our own pronun- ciation," he affirms, "is the most natural and pleasing of any. The Chinese and other Asiatics sing ; the Germans rattle (rallent) ; the Spaniards spout ; the Ital- ians sigh ; the English whistle ; the French alone can properly be said to speak ; which arises, in fact, from our not accenting any syllable before the penultimate. The French language is best adapted to ex- press the tenderest sentiments of the heart ; for which reason our songs are so impassioned and pathetic, while those of Italy and Spain are full of nonsense. Oth- er languages may address the imagination, but ours alone speaks to the heart, which never understands what is said in them."f This is literally amusing; and with equal patriotism, Bouhours, in another place, has proposed the question, whether a German can, by the nature of things, possess any wit. 14. Bouhours, not deficient, as we may perceive, in self-confidence and Attacked proneness to censure, presumed by Barbier to turn into ridicule the writers d'Aucour. of Port-Royal, at that time of such distin- guished reputation as threatened to eclipse the credit which the Jesuits had always preserved in polite letters. He alludes to their long periods and the exaggerated phrases of invective which they poured forth in controversy.^ But the Jansenist * P. 60. t P. 150. t P. 68. Vigneul-Marville observes that the Port-Royal writers formed their style originally on that of Balzac (vol. 1., p. 107) ; and that M. d'An- dilly, brother of Antony Arnauld, affected at one time a grand and copious manner like the Span- iards, as being more serious and imposing, espe cially in devotional writings ; but afterward, find ing the French were impatient of this style, that party abandoned it for one more concise, which ft 404 LITERATURE OF EUROPE party was well able to defend itself. Bar- bier d'Aucour retaliated on the vain Jesuit by his Sentimens de Cleanthe sur les En- tretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugene. It seems to be the general opinion of French critics that he has well exposed the weak parts of his adversary, his affected air of the world, the occasional frivolity and feeble- ness of his observations ; yet there seems something morose in the censures of the supposed Cleanthe, which renders this book less agreeable than that on which it animadverts. 15. Another work of criticism by Bou- i-a Maniere nour s, La Maniere de Bien Pen- . General the aggression of a disobedient superiority posterity. It had long been a of ancients problem in Europe whether they dl had not been surpassed; one, perhaps, which began before the younger genera- tions could make good their claim. But Time, the nominal ally of the old possess- ors, gave his more powerful aid to their opponents ; every age saw the proportions change, and new men rise up to strength- en the ranks of the assailants. In philos- ophy, in science, in natural knowledge, the ancients had none but a few mere ped- ants or half -read lovers of paradox to maintain their superiority ; but in the beauties of language, in eloquence and po- etry, the suffrage of criticism had long been theirs. It seemed time to dispute even this. Charles Perrault, a Charles man of some learning, some vari- I'errauit. ety of Acquirement, and a good deal of in- genuity and quickness, published, in 1687, his famous " Parallel of the Ancients and Moderns in all that regards Arts and Sci- ences." This Is a series of dialogues, the parties being, first, a president, deeply learned, and prejudiced in all respects for antiquity ; secondly, an abbe, not ignorant, but having reflected more than read, cool and impartial, always made to appear in the right, or, in other words, the author's Goujet, i., 13. 406 LITERATURE OF EUROPE representative ; thirdly, a man of the world, seizing the gay side of every sub- ject, and apparently brought in to prevent the book from becoming dull. They begin with architecture and painting, and soon make it clear that Athens was a mere heap of pigsties in comparison with Ver- sailles ; the ancient painters fare equally ill. They next advance to eloquence and poetry, and here, where the strife of war is sharpest, the defeat of antiquity is chant- ed with triumph. Homer, Virgil, Horace are successively brought 'forward for se- vere and often unjust censure ; but, of course, it is not to be imagined that Per- rault is always in the wrong ; he had to fight against a pedantic admiration which surrende-s sound taste ; and, having found the bow bent too much in one way, he forced it himself too violently into another direction. It is the fault of such books to be one-sided ; they are not unfrequently right in censuring blemishes, but very un- candid in suppressing beauties. Homer has been worst used by Perrault, who had not the least power of feeling his excel- lence ; but the advocate of the newer age in his dialogue admits that the jEneid is superior to any modern epic. In his com- parison of eloquence, Perrault has given some specimens of both sides in contrast ; comparing, by means, however, of his own versions, the funeral orations of Pericles and Plato with those of Bourdaloue, Bos- suet, and Flechier, the description by Pliny of his country seat with one by Balzac, an epistle of Cicero with another of Balzac. These comparisons were fitted to produce a great effect among those who could nei- ther read the original text, nor place them- selves in the midst of ancient feelings and habits. It is easy to perceive that a vast majority of the French in that age would agree with Perrault ; the book was writ- ten for the times. 22. Fontenelle, in a very short digression on the ancients and moderns, sub- elle - joined to his Discourse on Pas- toral Poetry, followed the steps of Per- rault. " The whole question as to pre- eminence between the ancients and mod- erns," he begins, " reduces itself into an- other, whether the trees that used to grow in our woods were larger than those which grow now. If they were' Homer, Plato, Demosthenes cannot be equalled in these iges ; but if our trees are as large as trees were of old, then there is no reason why we may not equal Homer, Plato, and De- mosthenes." The sophistry of this is glaring enough ; but it was logic for Paris. In the rest of this short essay, there are the usual characteristics of Fontenelle, cool good sense, and an incapacity, by natural privation, of feeling the highest excellence in works of taste. 23. Boileau, in observations annexed to his translation of Longinus, as well Boiieau's as in a few sallies of his poetry, defence o/ defended the great poets, especial- ami< i uit y ly Homer an'd Pindar, with dignity and moderation ; freely abandoning the cause of antiquity where he felt it to be unten- able. Perrault replied with courage, a quality meriting some praise where the adversary was so powerful in sarcasm and so little accustomed to spare it ; but the controversy ceased in tolerable friendship. 24. 'The knowledge of new accessions to literature which its lovers First Reviews, demanded had hitherto been journal des communicated only through s s avai|S - the annual catalogues published at Frank- fort or other places. But these lists of title-pages were unsatisfactory to the distant scholar, who sought to become acquainted with the real progress of learn- ing, and to know what he might find it worth while to purchase. Denis de Sallo, a member of the Parliament of Paris, and not wholly undistinguished in literature, though his other works are not much re- membered, by carrying into effect a happy project of his own, gave birth, as it were, to a mighty spirit, which has grown up in strength and enterprise till it has become the ruling power of the literary world. Monday, the 5th of January, 1665, is the date of the first number of the first review, the Journal des S9avans, published by Sallo unde: the name of the Sieur de Hedouville, which some have said to be that of his servant.* It was printed week- ly, in a duodecimo or sextodecimo form, each number containing from twelve to sixteen pages. The first book ever re- viewed (let us observe the difference of subject between that and the last, what- ever the last may be) was an edition of the works of- Victor Vitensis and Vigilius Tapsensis, African bishops of the fifth century, by Father Chiflet, a Jesuit. f The * Camusat, in his Histoire Cpitique des Journaux, in two volumes, 1734, which, notwithstanding its general title, is chiefly confined to the history of the Journal des Sqavans, and wholly to such as appeared in France, has not been able to clear up this inter- esting point ; for there are not wanting those who assert that Hedouville was the name of an estate belonging to Sallo ; and he is called in some public description, without reference to the journal, Domi- nus de Sallo d'Hedouville in Parisiensi curia senator. Camusat, i., 13. Notwithstanding this, there is evidence that leads us to the valet ; so that " am- plius deliberandum censep ; Res magna est." t Victoris Vitensis et Vigilii Tapsensis, Provincial Bisacenae Episcoporum Opera, edente R. P. Chi- fletio, Soc. Jesu. Presb., in 4to Divione. The FROM 1650 TO 1700. second is Spelman's Glossary. According to the prospectus prefixed to the Journal des Scavans, it was not designed for a mere review, but a literary miscellany; composed, in the first place, of an exact catalogue of the chief books which should be printed in Europe; not content with the mere titles, as the majority of bibliog- raphers had hitherto been, but giving an account of their contents, and their value to the public; it was also to contain a necrology of distinguished authors, an ac- count of experiments in physic and chymis- try, and of new discoveries in arts and sciences, with the principal decisions of civil and ecclesiastical tribunals, the de- crees of the Sorbonne and other French or foreign universities ; in short, whatever might be interesting to men of letters. We find, therefore, some piece of news, more or less of a literary or scientific nature, subjoined to each number. Thus, in the first number we have a double- headed child born near Salisbury ; in the second, a question of legitimacy decided in the Parliament of Paris ; in the third, an experiment on a new ship or boat con- structed by Sir William Petty; in the fourth, an account of a discussion in the College of Jesuits on the nature of comets. The scientific articles, which bear a large proportion to the rest, are illustrated by engravings. It was complained that the Journal des S^avans did not pay much re- gard to polite or amusing literature ; and this led to the publication of the Mercure Galant, by Vise, which gave reviews of poetry and of the drama. 25. Though the notices in the Journal des Sgavans are very short, and when they give any character, for the most part of a laudatory tone, Sallo did not fail to raise up enemies by the mere assumption of power which a reviewer is prone to affect. Menage, on a work of whose he had made some critic-ism, and by no means, as it ap- pears, without justice, replied in wrath ; Patin and others rose up as injured authors against the self-erected censor ; but he made more formidable enemies by some rather blunt declarations of a Gallican feeling, as became a counsellor of the Parliament of Paris, against the court of Rome ; and the privilege of publication was soon withdrawn from Sallo.* It is said that he had the spirit to refuse the offer of continuing the journal under a previous censorship ; and it passed into critique, if such it be, occupies but two pages in small duodecimo. That on Spelrnan's Glossary, which follows, is but in half a page. 407 Camusat, p. 28. Jesuits. Sallo had also attacked the other hands, those of Gallois, who con- tinued it with great success.* It is re- markable that the first review, within a few months of its origin, was silenced for assuming too imperious an authority over literature, and for speaking evil of dignities. "In cunis jam Jove dignus erat." The Journal des Sgavans, incomparably the most ancient of living reviews, is still con- spicuous for its learning, its candour, and its freedom from those stains of personal and party malice which deform more popular works. 26. The path thus opened to all that could tempt a man who made Reviews e- writing his profession profit, tnbiis celebrity, a perpetual appearance Bayle in the public eye, the facility of pouring forth every scattered thought of his own, the power of revenge upon every ene- my could not fail to tempt more con- spicuous men than Sallo or his successor Gallois. Two of very high reputation, at least of reputation that hence became very high, entered it, Bayle and Le Clerc. The former, in 1684, commenced a new review, Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres. He saw and was well able to improve the opportunities which periodical criticism furnished to a mind eminently qualified for it ; extensively, and, in some points, deeply learned ; full of wit, acuteness, and a happy talent of writing in a lively tone, without the insipidity of affected polite- ness. The scholar and philosopher of Rotterdam had a rival in some respects, and ultimately an adversary, in a neigh- bouring city. Le Clerc, settled at an a Le Amsterdam as professor of belles fere, lettres and of Hebrew in the Arminian seminary, undertook, in 1686, at the age of twenty-nine, the first of those three cel- ebrated series of reviews to which he owes so much of his fame. This was the Bibliotheque Universelle, in all the early volumes of which La Croze, a much infe- rior person, was his coadjutor, published monthly in a very small form. Le Clerc had afterward a disagreement with La Croze, and the latter part of the Biblio- theque Universelle (that after the tenth vol- ume) is chiefly his own. It ceased to be published in 1693, and the Bibliotheque Choisie, which is, perhaps, even a more known work of Le Clerc, did not com- mence till 1703. But the fulness, the va- riety, the judicious analysis and selection, * Eloge de Gallois, par Fontenelle, in the lat- ter's works, vol. v., p. 168. Biographic Uuiveraelle, arts. Sallo and Gallois. Gallois is said to have been a coadjutor of Sallo from the beginning, and some others are named by Camusat as its contributors, among whom were Gomberville and Chapelain. 408 LITERATURE OF EUROPE sis well as the value of the original re- marks which we find in the Bibliotheque Universelle, render it of signal utility to those who would embrace the literature of that short, but not unimportant period which it illustrates. 27. Meantime a less brilliant, but by Leipsic no means less erudite review, the Acts. Leipsic Acts, had commenced in Germany. The first volume of this series was published in 1682. But, being writ- ten in Latin, with more regard to the past than to the growing state of opinions, and, consequently, almost excluding the most attractive, and, indeed, the most impor- tant subjects, with a Lutheran spirit of unchangeable orthodoxy in religion, and with an absence of anything like philoso- phy or even connected system in erudi- tion, it is one of the most unreasonable books, relatively to its utility in learning, which has ever fallen into my hands. It- aly had entered earlier on this critical ca- reer ; the Giornale de' Litterati was begun at Rome in 1668 ; the Giornale Veneto de' Litterati at Venice in 1671. They con- tinued for some time, but with less con- spicuous reputation than those above men- tioned. The Mercure Savant, published at Amsterdam in 1684, was an indifferent production, which induced Bayle to set up his own Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres in opposition to it. Two reviews were commenced in the German language within the seventeenth century, and three in English. The first of these latter was the " Weekly Memorials for the Inge- nious," London, 1682. This, I believe, lasted but a short time. It was followed by one, entitled " The Works of the Learn- ed," in 1691 ; and by another " History of the Works of the Learned," in 1699. I have met with none of these, nor will any satisfactory account of them, I believe, be readily found.* 28. Bayle had first become known in , 1682, by the Pensees Diverses sur Thoughts l a Comete de 1680 ; a work which on the I am not sure that he ever deci- Comet. (j ec iiy surpassed. Its purpose is one hardly worthy, we should imagine, to employ him ; since those who could read and reason were not likely to be afraid of comets, and those who could do neither would be little the better for his book. But with this ostensible aim Bayle had others in view ; it gave scope to his keen observation of mankind, if we may use the word observation for that which he chiefly derived from modern books, and to the * Jugler, Hist. Litteraria, cap. 9. Bibliotheque Universelle, xiii., 41. calm philosophy which he professed There is less of the love of paradox, less of a cavilling pyrrhonism, and, though much diffuseness, less of pedantry and irrelevant instances in the Pensees Diver- ses than in his greater work. It exposed tlim, however, to controversy ; Jurieu, a French minister in Holland, the champion of Calvinistic orthodoxy, waged a war that was only terminated with their lives : and Bayle's defence of the Thoughts on the Comet is full as long as the original performance, but far less entertaining. 29. He now projected an immortal un dertaking, the Historical and Grit- Hisdic- ical Dictionary. Moreri, a labori- 'ionary. ous scribe, had published, in 1673, a kind of encyclopedic dictionary, biographical, historical, and geographical ; Bayle pro- fessed to fill up the numerous deficien- cies, and to rectify the errors of this com- piler. It is hard to place his dictionary, which appeared in 1694, under any distinct head in a literary classification which does not make a separate chapter for lexicog- raphy. It is almost equally difficult to give a general character of this many- coloured web, that great erudition and still greater acuteness and strength of mind wove for the last years of the seventeenth century. The learning of Bayle was co- pious, especially in what was most espe- cially required, the controversies, the an- ecdotes, the miscellaneous facts and sen- tences, scattered over the vast surface of literature for two preceding centuries. In that of antiquity he was less profoundly versed, yet so quick in application of his classical stores that he passes for even a better scholar than he was. His original design may have been only to fill up the deficiencies of Moreri ; but a mind so fer- tile and excursive could not be restrained in such limits. We may find, however, in this an apology for the numerous omis- sions of Bayle, which would, in a writer absolutely original, seem both capricious and unaccountable. We never can antici- pate with confidence that we shall find any name in his dictionary. The notes are most frequently unconnected with the life to which they are appended ; so that, un- der a name uninteresting to us, or inap- posite to our purpose, we may be led into the richest vein of the author's fine reason- ing or lively wit. Bayle is admirable in ex- posing the fallacies of dogmatism, the per- plexities of philosophy, the weaknesses of those who affect to guide the opinions of mankind. But, wanting the necessary con- dition of good reasoning, an earnest desire to reason well, a moral rectitude from which the love of truth must spring, he FROM 1650 TO 1700. 409 often avails himself of petty cavils, and be- comes dogmatical in his very doubts. A more sincere spirit of inquiry could not have suffered a man of his penetrating ge- nius to acquiesce, even contingently, in so superficial a scheme as the Manichean. The sophistry of Bayle, however, bears no proportion to his just and acute observa- tions. Less excuse can be admitted for his indecency, which almost assumes the character of monomania, so invariably does it recur, even where there is least pretext for it. 30. The Jugemens des Scavans by Bail- Baiiiet. let, published in 1685 and 1686, the Morhof. Polyhistor of Morhof in 1689, are certainly works of criticism as well as of bibliography. But neither of these wri- ters, especially the latter, is of much au- thority in matters of taste ; their erudition was very extensive, their abilities respect- able, since they were able to produce such useful and comprehensive works ; but they do not greatly serve to enlighten or cor- rect our judgments ; nor is the original matter in any considerable proportion to that which they have derived from others. I have taken notice of both these in my preface. 31. France was very fruitful of that mis- TheAna ce ^ aneous literature which, des- ultory and amusing, has the ad- vantage of remaining better in the mem- ory than more systematic books, and, in fact, is generally found to supply the man of extensive knowledge with the materials of his conversation, as well as to fill the vacancies of his deeper studies. The me- moirs, the letters, the travels, the dia- logues and essays, which might be ranged in so large a class as that we now pass '.n review, are too numerous to be men- tioned, and it must be understood that most of them are less in request even among the studious than they were in the last century. One group has acquired the distinctive name of Ana ; the reported conversation, tho table-talk of the learned. Several belong to the last part of the six- teenth century, or the first of the next ; the Scaligerana,the Perroniana, the Pithae- ana, the Naudaeana, the Casauboniana ; the last of which are not conversational, but fragments collected from the common- place books and loose papers of Isaac Ca- saubon. Two collections of the present period are very well known, the Menagi- ana, and the Melanges de Litterature par Vigneul-Marville ; which differs, indeed, from the rest in not being reported by others, but published by the author him- self; yet comes so near in spirit and man- ner, that we may place it in the same class. VOL. II. 3 F The Menagiana has the common fault of these Ana, that it rather disappoints ex- pectation, and does not give us as much new learning as the name of its author seems to promise ; but it is amusing, full of light anecdote of a literary kind, and interesting to all who love the recollec- tions of that generation. Vigneul-Mar- ville is an imaginary person; the author of the Melanges de Litterature is D'Ar- gonne, a Benedictine of Rouen. This book has been much esteemed ; the mask gives courage to the author, who writes, not unlike a Benedictine, but with a gen- eral tone of independent thinking, united to good judgment and a tolerably exten- sive knowledge of the state of literature. He had entered into the religious profes- sion rather late in life. The Chevraeana and Segraisiana, especially the latter, are of little value. The Parrhasiana of Le Clerc are less amusing and less miscel- laneous than some of the Ana; but in all his writings there is a love of truth and a zeal against those who obstruct inquiry, which to congenial spirits is as pleasing as it is sure to render him obnoxious to opposite tempers. 32. The characteristics of English wri- ters in the first division of the English century were not maintained in style in ibis the second, though the change, as i*" * 1 - was natural, did not come on by very rap- id strides. The pedantry of unauthorized Latinisms, the affectation of singular and not generally intelligible words from oth- er sources, the love of quaint phrases, strange analogies, and ambitious efforts at antithesis, gave way by degrees ; a greater ease of writing was what the public de- manded, and what the writers after the Restoration sought to attain ; they were more strictly idiomatic and English than their predecessors. But this ease some- times became negligence and feebleness, and often turned to coarseness and vul- garity. The language of Sevignfe and Hamilton is eminently colloquial ; scarce a turn occurs in their writings which they would not have used in familiar society ; but theirs was the colloquy of the gods, ours of men ; their idiom, though still sim- ple and French, had been refined in the saloons of Paris by that instinctive re- jection of all that is low which the fine tact of accomplished women dictates; while in our own contemporary writers, with little exception, there is what defaces the dialogue of our comedy, a tone not so much of provincialism, or even of what is called the language of the common peo- ple, as of one much worse, the dregs of vulgar ribaldry, which a gentleman must 410 LITERATURE OF EUROPE clear from his conversation before he can assert that name. Nor was this confined to those who led irregular lives ; the gen- eral manners being unpolished, we find in the writings of the clergy, wherever they are polemic or satirical, the same tenden- cy to what is called slang ; a word which, as itself belongs to the vocabulary it de- notes, I use with some unwillingness. The pattern of bad writing in this respect was Sir Roger L'Estrange ; his ^Esop's Fables will present everything that is hos- tile to good taste ; yet, by a certain wit and readiness in raillery, L'Estrange was a popular writer, and may even now be read, perhaps, with some amusement. The translation of Don Quixote, published in 1682, may also be specified as incredi- bly vulgar, and without the least percep- tion of the tone which the original author has preserved. 33. We can produce, nevertheless, sev- Hobbes era ^ names f those who laid the foundations at least, and, indeed, furnished examples, of good style ; some of them among the greatest, for other merits, in our literature. Hobbes is per- haps the first of whom we can say that he is a good English writer ; for the ex- cellent passages of Hooker, Sidney, Ra- leigh, Bacon, Taylor, Chillingworth, and others of the Elizabethan or the first Stu- art period, are not sufficient to establish their claim ; a good writer being one whose composition is nearly uniform, and who never sinks to such inferiority or negligence as we must confess in most of these. To make such a writer, the ab- sence of gross fault is full as necessary as actual beauties ; we are not judging as of poets, by the highest flight of their ge- nius, and forgiving all the rest, but as of a sum of positive and negative quantities, where the latter counterbalance and efface an equal portion of the former. Hobbes is clear, precise, spirited, and, above all, free, in general, from the faults of his pred- ecessors ; his language is sensibly less obsolete ; he is never vulgar, rarely, if ever, quaint or pedantic. 34. Cowley's prose, very unlike his verse, as Johnson has observed, is uowley. j / . i ... perspicuous and unaffected. His few essays may even be reckoned among the earliest models of good writing. In that, especially, on the death of Crom- well, till, losing his composure, he falls a little into the vulgar style towards the close, we find an absence of pedantry, an ease and graceful choice of idiom, an un- studied harmony of periods, which had been perceived in very few writers of the two preceding reigns. " His thoughts," says Johnson, " are natural, and his style has a smooth and placid equability which has never yet obtained its due commenda- tion. Nothing is far-sought or hard-la- boured ; but all is easy without feeble- ness, and familiar without grossness." 35. Evelyn wrote, in 1651, a little piece, purporting to be an account of Eng- Eyel .^ land by a Frenchman. It is very severe on our manners, especially in Lon- don ; his abhorrence of the late revolu- tions in church and state conspiring with his natural politeness, which he had lately improved by foreign travel. It is worth reading as illustrative of social history ; but I chiefly mention it here on account of the polish and gentlemanly elegance of the style, which very few had hitherto regarded in such light compositions. An answer by some indignant patriot has been reprinted together with this pamphlet of Evelyn, and is a good specimen of the bestial ribaldry which our ancestors seem to have taken for wit.* The later wri- tings of Evelyn are such as his character and habits would lead us to expect, but I am not aware that they often rise above that respectable level, nor are their sub- jects such as to require an elevated style. 36. Every poem and play of Dryden, as they successively appeared, was Dr den ushered into the world by those prefaces and dedications which have made him celebrated as a critic of poetry and a master of the English language. The Essay on Dramatic Poetry, and its subse- quent Defence, the Origin and Progress of Satire, the Parallel of Poetry and Painting, the Life of Plutarch, and other things of minor importance, all prefixed to some more extensive work, complete the catalogue of his prose. The style of Dryden was very superior to any that England had seen. Not conversant with our old writers, so little, in fact, as to find the common phrases of the Elizabethan age unintelligible,! he followed the taste of Charles's reign, in emulating the poli- test and most popular writers in the French language. He seems to have formed himself on Montaigne, Balzac, and Voiture ; but so ready was his invention, so vigorous his judgment, so complete his mastery over his native tongue, that, in point of style, he must be reckoned above all the three. He had the ease of Mon- Both these will be found in the late edition Oi Evelyn's Miscellaneous Works. t Malone has given several proofs of this. Dryden's Prose Works, vol. i., part 2, p. 136, et alibi. Dryden thought expressions wrong and in- ;orrect in Shakspeare and Jonson, which were the ;urrent language of their age. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 411 taigne, without his negligence and embar- rassed structure of periods ; he had the dignity of Balzac, with more varied caden- ces, and without his hyperbolical tumour ; the unexpected turns of Voiture, without his affectation and air of effort. In the dedications, especially, we find paragraphs of extraordinary gracefulness, such as pos- sibly have never been surpassed in our language. The prefaces are evidently written in a more negligent style ; he seems, like Montaigne, to converse with the reader from his armchair, and passes onward with little connexion from one subject to another.* In addressing a pa- tron, a different line is observable ; he comes with the respectful air which the occasion seems to demand ; but, though I do not think that Dryden ever, in lan- guage, forgets his own position, we must confess that the flattery is sometimes pal- pably untrue, and always offensively in- delicate. The dedication of the Mock Astrologer to the Duke of Newcastle is a masterpiece of fine writing ; and the sub- ject better deserved these lavish com- mendations than most who received them. That of the State of Innocence to the Duchess of York is also very well writ- ten, but the adulation is excessive. It appears to me that, after the Revolution, Dryden took less pains with his style ; the colloquial vulgarisms and these are not wanting even in his earlier prefaces become more frequent ; his periods are often of more slovenly construction ; he forgets, even in his dedications, that he is standing before a lord. Thus, remarking on the account Andromache gives to Hec- tor of her own history, he observes, in a style rather unworthy of him, " The devil was in Hector if he knew not all this mat- ter as well as she who told it him, for she had been his bedfellow for many years to- gether ; and, if he knew it then, it must be confessed that Homer, in this long digres- sion, has rather given us his own character than that of the fair lady whom he paints."f 37. His Essay on Dramatic Poesy, pub- His Essay lished in 1668, was reprinted six- on Drarnat- teen years afterward, and it is ic Poesy. cur ious to observe the changes which Dryden made in the expression. Malone has carefully noted all these ; they show both the care the author took with his own style, and the change which was gradually working in the English lan- * This is his own account. " The nature of a preface is rambling, never wholly out of the way, nor in it. ... This I have learned from the practice of honest Montaigne." Vol. iii., p. 605. t Vol. iii., p. 286. This is in the dedication of his third Miscellany to Lord Ratcliffe. guage.* The Anglicism of terminating the sentence with a preposition is reject- ed, f Thus, " I cannot think so con- temptibly of the age I live in," is ex- changed " for the age in which I live." " A deeper expression of belief than all the actor can persuade us to," is altered, " can insinuate into us." And, though the old form continued in use long after the time of Dryden, it has of late years been reckoned inelegant, and proscribed in all cases, perhaps with an unnecessary fastidiousness, to which I have not uni- formly deferred ; since our language is of a Teutonic structure, and the rules of Latin or French grammar are not always to bind us. 38. This Essay on Dramatic Poesy is written in dialogue ; Dryden him- ] mpr ove- self, under the name of Neander, mems in being probably one of the speakers. hl It turns on the use of rhyme in tragedy, on the observation of the unities, and on some other theatrical questions. Dryden, at this time, was favourable to rhymed tragedies, which his practice supported. Sir Robert Howard, having written some observations on that essay, and taken a different view as to rhyme, Dryden pub- lished a defence of his essay in a master- ly style of cutting scorn, but one hardly justified by the tone of the criticism, which had been very civil towards him ; and, as he -was apparently in the wrong, the air of superiority seems the more misplaced. 39. Dryden, as a critic, is not to be num- bered with those who have sound- ins critical ed the depths of the human mind, character, hardly with those who analyze the lan- guage and sentiments of poets, and teach others to judge by showing why they have judged themselves. He scatters remarks, sometimes too indefinite, sometimes too arbitrary; yet his predominating good sense colours the whole ; we find in them no perplexing subtlety, no cloudy non- sense, no paradoxes and heresies in taste * Vol. i., p. 136-142. t " The preposition in the end of the sentence, a common fault with him (Ben Jonson), nnd which I have hut lately observed in my own writings," p. 237. The form is, in tny opinion, sometimes em- phatic and spirited, though its frequent use appears slovenly. 1 remember my late friend, Mr. Richard Sharp, whose good taste is well known, used to quote an interrogatory of Hooker: " Shall there be a God to swear by, and none to pray to ?" as an in- stance of the force which this arrangement, so emi- nently idiomatic, sometimes gives. It is unneces- sary to say that it is derived from the German ; and nothing but Latin prejudice can make us think i essentially wrong. In the passive voice, I think it better than in the active ; nor can it always be dis- pensed with, unless we choose rather the leeble, encumbering pronoun which. 412 LITERATURE OF EUROPE to revolt us. Those he has made on trans- lation in the preface to that of Ovid's Epis- tles are valuable. "No man," he says, " is capable of translating poetry, who, be- sides a genius to that art, is not a master both of his author's language and of his own. Nor must we understand the lan- guage only of the poet, but his particular turn of thoughts and expression, which are the characters that distinguish, and, as it were, individuate him from all other wri- ters."* We cannot pay Dryden the com- pliment of saying that he gave the exam- ple as well as precept, especially in his Virgil. He did not scruple to copy Se- grais in his discourse on Epic Poetry. " Him I follow, and what I borrow from him am ready to acknowledge to him ; for, impartially speaking, the French are as much better critics than the English as they are worse poets. "f 40. The greater part of his critical wri- tings relate to the drama, a subject with which he was very conversant; but he had some considerable prejudices ; he seems never to have felt the transcendent excellence of Shakspeare ; and sometimes, perhaps, his own opinions, if not feigned, are biased by that sort of self-defence to which he thought himself driven in the prefaces to his several plays. He had many enemies on the watch ; the Duke of Buckingham's Rehearsal, a satire of great wit, had exposed to ridicule the he- roic tragedies,^ and many were afterward ready to forget the merits of the poet in the delinquencies of the politician. " What Virgil wrote," he says, " in the vigour of his age, in plenty and in ease, I have un- dertaken to translate in my declining years ; struggling with wants, oppressed by sickness, curbed in my genius, liable to be misconstrued in all I write, and my judges, if they are not very equitable, al- ready prejudiced against me by the lying character which has been given them of my morals. "$ 41. Dryden will hardly be charged with abandoning too hastily our national credit, * Vol. iii , p. 19. t P. 460. The quotations in this paragraph pre- sent two instances of the word to in an unauthor- ized usage; the second is a Gallicism; but the first has not even that excuse. t This comedy was published in 1672 ; the paro- dies are amusing ; and, though parody is the most unfair weapon that ridicule can use, they are, in most instances, warranted by the original. Bayes, whether he resembles Dryden or not, is a very com- ic personage : the character is said by Johnson to have been sketched for Davenant ; but I much doubt this report : Davenant had been dead some years before the Rehearsal was published, and could have been in no way obnoxious to its satire. $ Vol. iii., p. 557. when he said the French were bet- Rymer on ter critics than the English. We Tragedy. had scarcely anything worthy of notice to allege beyond his own writings. The Theatrum Poetarum by Philips, nephew of Milton, is superficial in every respect. Thomas Rymer, best known to mankind as the editor of the Fredera, but a strenu- ous advocate for the Aristotelian princi- ples in the drama, published in 1678 " The Tragedies of the last Age considered and examined by the Practice of the Ancients, and by the Common Sense of all Ages." This contains a censure of some plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, Shakspeare, and Jonson. " I have chiefly considered the fable or plot, which all conclude to be the soul of tragedy, which, with the ancients, is always found to be a reasonable soul, but with us, for the most part, a brutish, and often worse than brutish."* I have read only his criticisms on the Maid's Tragedy, King and No King, and Rollo ; and as the conduct and characters of all three are far enough from being invulner- able, it is not surprising that Ryrner has often well exposed them. 42. Next to Dryden, the second place among the polite writers of the sirwuiiam period from the Restoration to Temple's the end of the century has com- E monly been given to Sir William Temple. His Miscellanies, to which principally this praise belongs, are not recommended by more erudition than a retired statesman might acquire with no great expense of time nor by much originality of reflection. But, if Temple has not profound knowl- edge, he turns all he possesses well to ac- count ; if his thoughts are not very stri- king, they are commonly just. He has less eloquence than Bolingbroke, but is also free from his restlessness and osten- tation. Much also, which now appears superficial in Temple's historical surveys, was far less familiar in his age ; he has the merit of a comprehensive and a candid mind. His style, to which we should par- ticularly refer, will be found, in comparison with his contemporaries, highly polished, and sustained with more equability than they preserve, remote from anything ei- ther pedantic or humble. The periods are studiously rhythmical, yet they want the variety and peculiar charm that we admire in those of Dryden. 43. Locke is certainly a good writer, relatively to the greater part of his style of contemporaries ; his plain and man- Locke, ly sentences often give us pleasure by the wording alone. But he has some defects : * P. 4. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 413 m his Essay on the Human Understand- ing he is often too figurative for the sub- ject. In all his writings, and especially in the Treatise on Education, he is occa- isonally negligent; and, though not vul- gar, at least according to the idiom of his age, slovenly in the structure of his sen- tences as well as the choice of his words ; he is not, in mere style, very forcible, and certainly not very elegant. 44. The Essays of Sir George Macken- Sir George z ^ e are empty and diffuse ; the Mackenzie's style is full of pedantic words Essays. to a d e g ree o f barbarism ; and, though they were chiefly written after the Revolution, he seems to have wholly formed himself on the older writers, such as Sir Thomas Browne, or even Feltham. He affects the obsolete and unpleasing termination of the third person of the verb in eth, which was going out of use even in the pulpit, besides other rust of archaism. Nothing can be more unlike the manner of Dryden, Locke, or Temple. In his matter he seems a mere declaimer, as if the world would any longer endure the trivial morality which the sixteenth cen- tury had borrowed from Seneca, or the dull ethics of sermons. It is probable that, as Mackenzie was a man who had seen and read much, he must have some better passages than I have found in glan- cing shortly at his works. His country- Andrew man, Andrew Fletcher, is a better Fletcher, master of English style ; he writes with purity, clearness, and spirit ; but the subject is so much before his eyes that he is little solicitous about language. And a similar character may be given to many of the political tracts in the reign of Will- iam. They are well expressed for their purpose ; their English is perspicuous, unaffected, often forcible, and, upon the whole, much superior to that of similar writings in the reign of Charles ; but they do not challenge a place of which their authors never dreamed ; they are not to be counted in the polite literature of England. 45. I may have overlooked, or even never known, some books of sufficient value to deserve mention ; and I regret that the list of miscellaneous literature should be so short. But it must be con- fessed that our golden age did not begin before the eighteenth century, and then with him who has never since been rival- led in grace, humour, and invention. Wal- waiton-s ton ' s Complete Angler, published r-ompiete in 1653, seems by the title a strange Angler. cno i ce O ut of all the books of half a century; yet its simplicity, its sweet- ness, its natural grace, and happy inter- mixture of graver strains with the pre- cepts of angling, have rendered this book deservedly popular, and a model which one of the most famous among our late philosophers, and a successful disciple of Isaac Walton in his favourite art, has con- descended to imitate. 46. A book, not, indeed, remarkable for its style, but one which I could wnkins's hardly mention in any less mis- New world, cellaneous chapter than the present, though, since it was published in 1638, it ought to have been mentioned before, is Wilkins's " Discovery of a New World, or a Discourse tending to prove that it is probable there may be another habitable World in the Moon, with a Discourse con- cerning the Possibility of a Passage thith- er." This is one of the births of that in- quiring spirit, that disdain of ancient prej- udice, which the seventeenth century pro- duced. Bacon was undoubtedly the father of it in England ; but Kepler, and, above all, Galileo, by the new truths they de- monstrated, made men fearless in investi- gation and conjecture. The geographical discoveries, indeed, of Columbus and Ma- gellan had prepared the way for conjec- tures hardly more astonishing in the eyes of the vulgar than those had been. Wil- kins accordingly begins by bringing a host of sage writers who had denied the exist- ence of antipodes. He expressly main- tains the Copernican theory, but admits that it was generally reputed a novel par- adox. The arguments on the other side he meets at some length, and knew how to answer, by the principles of compound motion, the plausible objection that stones falling from a tower were not left behind by the motion of the earth. The spots in the moon he took for sea, and the brighte? parts for land. A lunar atmosphere he was forced to hold, and gives reasons for thinking it probable. As to inhabitants, he does not dwell long on the subject. Carnpanella, and, long before him, Cardi- nal Cusanus, had believed the sun and moon to be inhabited ;* and Wilkins ends by saying, " Being content, for my own part, to have spoken so much of it as may conduce to show the opinion of others concerning the inhabitants of the moon, I dare not myself affirm anything of these Selenites, because I know not any ground whereon to build any probable opinion. But I think that future ages will discover * Suspicamur in regione soils magis ease solares, claros el illuminates intellectuales habitatores, spir- itualiores etiam quam in lima, ubi magis Innatici, et in terra magis materials et crassi, ut illi intel- lectualis naturae solares sint multum in actu et pa- rum in potentia, terreni vero magis in potentia et parum in actu, lunares in medio fluctuantes, &c. Cusanus apud Wilkins, p. 103 (edit. 1802). LITERATURE OF EUROPE more, and our posterity, perhaps, may in- vent some means for our better acquaint- ance with those inhabitants." To this he comes as his final proposition, that it may be possible for some of our posterity to find out a conveyance to this other world ; and, if there be inhabitants there, to have communication with them. But this chap- ter is the worst in the book, and shows that Wilkins, notwithstanding his ingenu- ity, had but crude notions on the princi- ples of physics. He followed this up by what I have not seen, a " Discourse con- cerning a new planet ; tending to prove that it is possible our earth is one of the planets." This appears to be a regular vindication of the Copernican theory, and was published in 1640. 47. The cause of antiquity, so rudely as- Antiquity sailed abroad by Perrault and defended by Fontenelle, found support in Sir 'empie. William Temple, who has de- fended it in one of his essays with more zeal than prudence or knowledge of the various subjects on which he contends for the rights of the past. It was, in fact, such a credulous and superficial view as might have been taken by a pedant of the six- teenth century. For it is in science, ta- king the word largely, full as much as in works of genius, that he denies the an- cients to have been surpassed. Temple's Essay, however, was translated into French, and he was supposed by many to have made a brilliant vindication of in- jured antiquity. But it was soon refuted in the most solid book that was written in any country upon this famous dispute. Wotton's William Wotton published in Reflections. 169 4 hj s Reflections on ancient and modern Learning.* He draws very well in this the line between Temple and Perrault, avoiding the tasteless judgment of the latter in poetry and eloquence, but pointing out the superiority of the mod- erns in the whole range of physical sci- ence. SECT. II. ON FICTION. French Romances. La Fayette and others. Pil- grim's Progress. Turkish Spy. 48. SPAIN had, about the middle of this * Wotton had been a boy of astonishing precoci tj ; at six years old he could readily translate Latin, Greek, and Hebrew ; at seven he added some knowledge of Arabic and Syriac. He entered Catharine Hall, Cambridge, in his tenth year; at thirteen, when he took the degree of bachelor of arts, he was acquainted with twelve languages. There being no precedent of granting a degree to one so young, a special record of his extraordinary proficiency was made in the registers of the uni- versity. Monk's Life of Bentley, p. 7. century, a writer of various liter- ature, who is only known in Eu- visions, rope by his fictions, Quevedo. His vis- ions and his life of the great Tacaiio were early translated, and became very popu- lar.* They may be reckoned superior to anything in comic romance, except Don Quixote, that the seventeenth century pro- duced ; and yet this commendation is not a high one. In the picaresque style, the life of Tacano is tolerably amusing ; but Quevedo, like others, has long since been surpassed.' The Suenos, or Visions, are better; they show spirit and sharpness, with some originality of invention. But Las Zahurdas de Pluton, which, like the other suenos, bears a general resemblance to the Pilgrim's Progress, being an alle- gorical dream, is less powerfully and graphically written ; the satire is also rather too obvious. " Lucian," says Bou- terwek, " furnished him with the original idea of satirical visions ; but Quevedo'^ were the first of their kind in modern lit- erature. Owing to frequent imitations, their faults are no longer disguised by the charm of novelty, and even their merits have ceased to interest."! 49. No species of composition seems less adapted to the genius of the French hero- French nation in the reign of ic romances. Louis XIV. than the heroic romances so much admired in its first years. It must be confessed that this was but the contin- uance, and in some respect, possibly, an improvement of a long-established style of fiction. But it was not fitted to endure reason or ridicule, and the societies of Paris knew the use of both weapons. Mo- liere sometimes tried his wit upon the ro- mances ; and Boileau, rather later in the day, when the victory had been won, at- tacked Mademoiselle Scudery with his sarcastic irony in a dialogue on the heroes of her invention. 50. The first step in descending from the heroic romance was to Novels of Ma- ground not altogether dissimi- dame la Fay lar. The feats of chivalry ette - were replaced by less wonderful adven- tures ; the love became less hyperbolical in expression, though not less intensely engrossing the personages ; the general tone of manners was lowered down better to that of nature, or, at least, of an ideality which the imagination did not reject; a style already tried in the minor fictions * The translation of this, " made English by a person of honour," takes great liberties with the original, and endeavours to excel it in wit by mean* of frequent interpolation. + Hist, of Spanish Literature, p. 471 FROM 1650 TO 1700. 415 of Spain. The earliest novels that de- mand attention in this line are those of the Countess de la Fayette, celebrated while Mademoiselle de la Vergne under the name of Laverna in the Latin poetry of Men- age.* Zayde, the first of these, is entirely in the Spanish style; the adventures are improbable, but various and rather inter- esting to those who carry no skepticism into fiction ; the language is polished and agreeable, though not very animated ; and it is easy to perceive that, while that kind of novel was popular, Zayde would obtain a high place. It has, however, the usual faults ; the story is broken by interve- ning narratives, which occupy too large a space ; the sorrows of the principal char- acters excite, at least as I should judge, little sympathy ; and their sentiments and emotions are sometimes too much refined in the alembic of the Hotel Rambouillet. In a later novel, the Princess of Cleves, Madame la Fayette threw off the affecta- tion of that circle to which she had once belonged ; and though perhaps Zayde is, or was in its own age, the more celebrated novel, it seems to me that in this she has excelled herself. The story, being nothing else than the insuperable and insidious, but not guilty, attachment of a married lady to a lover, required a delicacy and correctness of taste which the authoress has well displayed in it. The probability of the incidents, the natural course they take, the absence of all complication and perplexity, give such an inartificial air to this novel, that we can scarcely help be- lieving it to shadow forth some real event. A modern novelist would probably have made more of the story ; the style is al- ways calm, sometimes almost languid ; a tone of decorous politeness, like that of the French stage, is never relaxed ; but it is precisely by this means that the writer has kept up a moral dignity, of which it would have been so easy to lose sight. The Princess of Cleves is perhaps the first work of mere invention (for, though the characters are historical, there is no known foundation for the story) which brought forward the manners of the aris- tocracy ; it may be said, the contempora- ry manners ; for Madame la Fayette must have copied her own times. As this has * The name Laverna, though well-sounding, was in one respect unlucky, being that given by anti- quity to the goddess of thieves. An epigram on Menage, almost, perhaps, too trite to be quoted, is piquant enough : Lesbia nulla tibi, nulla est tibi dicta Corinna; Carmine laudatur Cynthia nulla tuo. Sed cum doctorum compilas scrinia yatum, Nil minim, si sit culta Laverna tibi. become a popular theme of fiction, it is just to commemorate the novel which intro- duced it. 51. The French have few novels of this class in the seventeenth century season's which they praise ; those of Ma- Roman dame Villedieu, or Des Jardins, c ' ni n. without the author's consent, in 1699. It is needless to say that it soon obtained the admiration of Europe ; and perhaps there is no book in the French language that has been more read. Fenelon seems to have conceived that, metre not being essential, as he assumed, to poetry, he had, by imitating the Odyssey in Tele- maque, produced an epic of as legitimate a character as his model. But the bound- aries between epic poetry, especially such epics as the Odyssey, and romance were only perceptible by the employment of verse in the former ; no elevation of character, no ideality of conception, no charm of imagery or emotion had been denied to romance. The language of po- etry had for two centuries been seized for its use. Telemaque must therefore take its place among romances ; but still it is true that no romance had breathed so classical a spirit, none had abounded so much with the richness of poetical lan- guage, much, in fact, of Homer, Virgil, and Sophocles having been woven in with no other change than verbal translation, nor had any preserved such dignity in its circumstances, such beauty, harmony, and nobleness in its diction. It would be as idle to say that Fenelon was indebted to D'Urfe and Calprenede, as to deny that some degree of resemblance may be found in their poetical prose. The one belonged to the morals of chivalry, generous but exaggerated ; the other to those of wis- dom and religion. The one has been fo% gotten because its tone is false ; the other is ever admired, and is only less regarded because it is true in excess; because it contains too much of what we know. Telemaque, like some other of Fenelon's writings, is to be considered in reference to its object ; an object of all the noblest, being to form the character of one to whom many must look up for their wel- fare, but still very different from the in- culcation of profound truth. The beau- ties of Telemaque are very numerous ; the descriptions, and, indeed, the whole tone of the book, have a charm of grace something like the pictures of Guido ; but there is also a certain languor which steals over us in reading ; and, though there is no real want of variety in the narration, it reminds us so continually of its source, the Homeric legends, as to become rather monotonous. The abandonment of verse has produced too much diffuseness ; it FROM 1650 TO 1700. 417 will be observed, if we .ook attentively, that where Homer is circumstantial, Fen- elon is more so ; in this he sometimes ap- proaches the minuteness of the romancers. But these defects are more than compen- sated by the moral and even aesthetic ex- cellence of this romance. 56. If this most fertile province of all Deficiency literature, as we have now dis- or English covered it to be, had yielded so romances. }j tt i e eyen j n p rance) a nation that might appear eminently fitted to ex- plore it, down to the close of the seven- teenth century, we may be less surprised at the greater deficiency of our own coun- try. Yet the scarcity of original fiction in England was so great as to be inexpli- cable by any reasoning. The public taste was not incapable of being pleased ; for all the novels and romances of the Conti- nent were readily translated. The man- ners of all classes were as open to humor- ous description, the imagination was as vigorous, the heart as susceptible as in other countries. But not only we find no- thing good ; it can hardly be .said that we find anything at all that has ever attracted notice in English romance. The Parthe- nissa of Lord Orrery, in the heroic style, and the short novels of Afra Behn, are nearly as many, perhaps, as could be de- tected in old libraries. We must leave the beaten track before we can place a single work in this class. 57. The Pilgrim's Progress essentially pilgrim's belongs to it, and John Bunyan Progress. ma y pass for the father of our nov- elists. His success in a line of composi- tion like the spiritual romance or allegory, which seems to have been frigid and un- readable in the few instances where it had been attempted, is doubtless enhanced by his want of all learning and his low sta- tion in life. He was, therefore, rarely, if ever, an imitator ; he was never enchained by rules. Bunyan possessed, in a remark- able degree, the power of representation ; his inventive faculty was considerable, but the other is his distinguishing excellence. He saw, and makes us see, what he de- scribes ; he is circumstantial without pro- lixity, and in the variety and frequent change of his incidents, never loses sight of the unity of his allegorical fable. His invention was enriched, and, rather, his choice determined, by one rule he had laid down to himself, the adaptation of all the incidental language of Scripture to his own use. There is scarce a circumstance or metaphor in the Old Testament which does not find a place, bodily and literally, in the story of the Pilgrim's Progress ; and this peculiar artifice has made his own VOL. II. 3 G imagination appear more creative than it really is. In the conduct of the romance no rigorous attention to the propriety of the allegory seems to have been uniform- ly preserved. Vanity Fair, or the cave of the two giants, might, for anything we see, have been placed elsewhere ; but it is by this neglect of exact, parallelism that he better keeps up the reality of the pilgrim- age, and takes off the coldness of mere al- legory. It is also to be remembered that we read this book at an age when the spiritual meaning is either little perceived or little regarded. In his language, nev- ertheless, Bunyan sometimes mingles the signification too much with the fable ; we might be perplexed between the imagina- ry and the real Christian ; but the liveli- ness of narration soon brings us back, or did, at least, when we were young, to the fields of fancy. Yet the Pilgrim's Prog- ress, like some other books, has of late been a little overrated ; its excellence is great, but it is not of the highest rank, and we should be careful not to break down the landmarks of fame, by placing the John Bunyans and the Daniel De Foes among the Dii Majores of our worship. 58. I am inclined to claim for England, not the invention, but, for the most part, the composition of another book, which, being grounded on fiction, may be classed here, The Turkish Spy. A secret emissary of the Porte is supposed to remain at Paris in disguise for above forty years, from 1635 to 1682. His correspondence with a number of per- sons, various in situation, and with whom, therefore, his letters assume various char- acters, is protracted through eight vol- umes. Much, indeed most, relates to the liistory of those times and to the anecdotes connected with it ; but in these we do not find a large proportion of novelty. The more remarkable letters are those which run into metaphysical and theological spec- ulation. These are written with an ear- nest seriousness, yet with an extraordina- ry freedom, such as the feigned garb of a Mohammedan could hardly have exempted from censure in Catholic countries. Mah- mud, the mysterious writer, stands on a sort of eminence above all human preju- dice ; he was privileged to judge as a stranger of the religion and philosophy of Europe ; but his bold spirit ranges over the field of Oriental speculation. The Turkish Spy is no ordinary production, but contains as many proofs of a thought- ful, if not very profound mind, as any we can find. It suggested the Persian Letters to Montesquieu, and the Jewish to Argons ; the former deviating from his model with 418 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the originality of talent, the latter following it with a more servile closeness. Proba- bility, that is, a resemblance to the per- sonated character of an Oriental, was not to be attained, nor was it desirable, in any of these fictions ; but Mahmud has some- thing not European ; something of a soli- tary, insulated wanderer, gazing on a world that knows him not, which throws, to my feelings, a striking charm over the Turk- ish Spy ; while the Usbek of Montesquieu has become more than half Parisian ; his ideas are neither those of his birthplace, nor such as have sprung up unbidden from his soul, but those of a polite, witty, and acute society; and the .correspondence with his harem in Persia, which Montes- quieu has thought attractive to the reader, is not much more interesting than it is probable, and ends in the style of a com- mon romance. As to the Jewish Letters of Argens, it is far inferior to the Turkish Spy, and, in fact, rather an insipid book. 59. It may bfe asked why I dispute the Chiefly of c ^ m made by all the foreign bi- EngiisU ographers in favour of John Paul origin. Marana, a native of Genoa, who is asserted to have published the first volume of the Turkish Spy at Paris in 1684, and the rest in subsequent years.* But I am not disputing that Marana is the author of the thirty letters published in 1684, and of twenty more in 1686, which have been literally translated into English, and form about half the first volume in English of our Turkish Spy.f Nor do I doubt in the least that the remainder of that, volume had a French original, though it happens that I have not seen it. But the later volumes of the EspionTurc, in the edition of 1696, with the date of Cologne, which, according to Barbier, is put for Rouen,! are avowedly translated from the * This first portion was published at Paris, and also at Amsterdam. Bayle gives the following ac- count. Get ouvrage a etc contrefait a Amsterdam du consentement du libraire de Paris, qui 1'a le premier imprime. II sera compose de plusieurs petits volumes qui contiendront les evenemens les plus considerables de la chretiente en general, et de la France en particulier, depuis I'annee 1637 jus- qu'en 1682. Un Italien natif de Genes, Marana, donne ces relations pour des lettres dcrites aux ministres de la Porte par un espion Turc qui se tenoit cache a Paris. II pretend les avoir traduites de 1'Arabe en Italien : et il raconte fort en long comment il les a trouvees. On soup^onne avec beaucoup d'apparence, que c'est un tour d'esprit Italien, et line fiction ingenieuse sernblable a celle dont Virgile s'est servi pour louer Auguste, &c. Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres, Mars, 1684 ; in OZuvres diverses de Bayle, vol. i., p. 20. The Espion Turc is not to be traced in the index to the Journal des 9avans ; nor is it noticed in the Biblio- theque Universelle. t Salfi, xiv., 61. Biograph. Univers. i Uictionnaire des Anonymes, vol. i., p. 406. English. And to the second volume of our Turkish Spy, published in 1691, is pre- fixed an account, not very credible, of the manner in which the volumes subsequent to the first had been procured by a traveller in the original Italian ; no French edition, it is declared, being known to the book- sellers. That no Italian edition ever ex- isted is, I apprehend, now generally ad- mitted ; and it is to be shown by those who contend for the claims of Marana to seven out of the eight volumes, that they Barbier's notice of L' Espion dans les cours de princes Chretiens ascribes four volumes out of six, which appear to contain as much as our eight vol- umes, to Marana, and conjectures that the last two are by another hand ; but does not intimate ths least suspicion of an Knglish original. And, as his authority is considerable, I must fortify my own opinion by what evidence I can find. The preface to the second volume (English) o. the Turkish Spy begins thus : " Three years are now elapsed since the first volume of letters written by a Spy at Paris was published in English ; and it was expected that a second should have come out long before this. The favourable reception which that found among all sorts of readers would have encouraged a speedy translation of the rest, hac there been extant any French edition of more tha.i the first part ; but, after the strictest inquiry, nonj could be heard of; and, as for the Italian, our book sellers have not that correspondence in those partj as they have in the more neighbouring countries of France and Holland : so that it was a work de- spaired of to recover any more of this Arabian's memoirs. We little dreamed that the Florentines had been so busy in printing and so successful in selling the continued translation of these Arabian epistles, till it was the fortune of an Knglish gentle- man to travel in those parts last summer, and dis- cover the happy news. I will not forestal his letter, which is annexed to this preface." A pretended letter, with the signature of Daniel Saltmarsh, fol- lows, in which the imaginary author tells a strange tale of the manner in which a certain learned phy sician of Ferrara, Julio de Medici, descended from the Medicean family, put these volumes, in the Italian language, into his hands. This letter is dated Amsterdam, Sept. 9, 1690, and as the prefaca refers it to the last summer, I hence conclude that the first edition of the second volume of the Turkish Spy was in 1691 ; for I have not seen that, nor any other edition earlier than the fifth, printed in 1702. Marana is said by Salfi and others to have left France in 1689, having fallen into a depression of spirits. Now the first thirty letters, about one thirty-second part of the entire work, were published in 1684, and about an equal length in 1686. I admit that he had time to double these portions, and thus to publish one eighth of the whole ; but is it likely that between 1686 and 1689 he could have given the rest to the world? If we are not struck by this, is it likely that the English translator should have fabricated the story above mentioned, when the public might know that there was actually a French original which he had rendered ? The invention seems without motive. Again, how came the French edition of 1696 to be an avowed translation from the English, when, according to the hypothesis of M. Barbier, the volumes of Marana had all been pub- lished in France? Surely, till these appear, we have reason to suspect their existence ; and the onus probandi lies now on the advocates of Marana'* claim. FROM 1650 TO 1700. were published in France before 1691 and the^subsequcnt years, when they appeared in English. The Cologne or Rouen edition of Ifi'JG follows the English so closely, that it has not given the original letters of the first volume, published with the name of Manuia, but rendered them back from the translation. 60. In these early letters, I am ready to admit, the scheme of the Turkish Spy may be entirely traced. Marana appears not only to have planned the historical part of the letters, but to have struck out the more original and striking idea of a Moham- medan wavering with religious scruples, which the English continuator has fol- lowed up with more philosophy and eru- dition. The internal evidence for their English origin, in all the latter volumes, is, to my apprehension, exceedingly strong; but I know the difficulty of arguing from this to convince a reader. The proof we demand is the production of these volumes in French, that is, the specification of some public or private library where they 419 may be seen, in any edition anterior to* 1691, and nothing short of this can be satisfactory evidence.* 61. It would not, perhaps, be unfair to bring within the pale of the seven- 8 ... teenth century an effusion of genius rlie *r sufficient to redeem our name in its aTub - annals of fiction. The Tale of a Tub, though not published till 1704, was chiefly written, as the author declares, eight years before ; and the Battle of the Books, sub- joined to it, has every appearance of re- cent animosity against the opponents of Temple and Boyle in the question of Phalaris. The Tale of a Tub is, in my apprehension, the master-piece of Swift ; certainly Rabelais has nothing superior, even in invention, nor anything so con- densed, so pointed, so full of real mean- ing, of biting satire, of felicitous analogy. The Battle of the Books is such an im- provement of the similar combat in the Lutrin, that we can hardly own it is an imitation. CHAPTER VIII. HISTORY OF PHYSICAL AND OTHER LITERATURE FROM 1650 TO 1700. SECT. I. ON EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY. Institutions for Science at Florence London Paris. Chymistry. Boyle and others. 1. WE have now arrived, according to the method pursued in corre- Heasons for ,. f , . ., , . . omittini; spending periods, at the history mathemat- of mathematical and physical science in the latter part of the seventeenth century. But I must here entreat my readers to excuse the omis- sion of that which ought to occupy a prominent situation in any work that pre- tends to trace the general progress of hu- man knowledge. The length to which I have found myself already compelled to extend these volumes might be an ade- quate apology ; but I have one more in superable in the slightness of my own ac- quaintance with subjects so momentous and difficult, and upon which I could not write without presumptuousness and much peril of betraying ignorance. The names, therefore, of Wallis and Huygens, Newton * I shall now produce some direct evidence for the English authorship of seven out of eight parts of the Turkish Spy. " In the Life of Mrs. Manley, published under the title of ' The Adventures of Rivella,' printed in 1714, in pages 14 and 15, it is said, That her father, Sir Roger Manley, was the genuine author of the first volume of the Turkish Spy. Dr. Midgley, an in- genious physician, related to the family by marriage, had the charge of looking over his papers, among which he found that manuscript, which he easily reserved to his proper use ; and both by his own pen and the assistance of some others, continued the work until the eighth volume, without ever having the justice to name the author of the first." MS. note in the copy of the Turkish Spy (edit. 1732) in the British Museum. Another MS. note in the same volume gives the following extract from Dunton's Life and Errors. " Mr. Bradshaw is the best accomplished hackney writer I have met with; his genius was quite above the common size, and his style was incom- parably fine. ... So soon as I saw the first volume of the Turkish Spy, the very style and manner of writing convinced me that Bradshaw was the author. . . . Bradshaw's wife owned that Dr. Midgley had engaged him in a work which would take him some years to finish, for which the doctor was to pay him 40j. per sheet. ... so that 'tis very probable (for I cannot swear I saw him write it) that Mr. William Bradshaw was the author of the Turkish Spy; were it not for this discovery, Mr. Midgley had gone off with the honour of that performance." It thus appears that in England it was looked upon M an original work ; though the authority of Dunton is not very good for the facts he tells, and that of Mrs. Manley much worse. But I do not quote them as evidence of such facts, but of common report. Mrs. Manley, who claims for her father the first volume, certainly written by Marana, must be set aside ; as to Dr. Midgley and Mr. Bradshaw, I know nothing to confirm or refute what is here said. 420 LITERATURE OF EUROPE and Leibnitz, must be passed with distant reverence. 2. This was the age when the experi- Academydei mental philosophy, to which Cemento. Bacon had held the torch, and which had already made considerable progress, especially in Italy, was finally established on the ruins of arbitrary fig- ments and partial inductions. This phi- losophy was signally indebted to three as- sociations, the eldest of which did not en- dure long, but the others have remained to this day, the perennial fountains of sci- ence : the Academy del Cimento at Flor- ence, the Royal Society of London, the Academy of Sciences at Paris. The first of these was established in 1657, with the patronage of the Grand Duke Ferdinand II., but under the peculiar care of his brother Leopold. Both were, in a man- ner at that time remarkable, attached to natural philosophy ; and Leopold, less en- gaged in public affairs, had long carried on a correspondence with the learned of Europe. It is said that the advice of Viv- iani, one of the greatest geometers that Europe has produced, led to this institu- tion. The name this academy assumed gave promise of their fundamental rule, the investigation of truth by experiment alone. The number of academicians was unlimited, and all that was required as an article of faith was the abjuration of all faith, a resolution to inquire into truth without regard to any previous sect of philosophy. This academy lasted, un- fortunately, but ten years in vigour ; it is a great misfortune for any literary institu- tion to depend on one man, and especially on a prince, who, shedding a factitious, as well as sometimes a genuine lustre round it, is not easily replaced without a dimi- nution of the world's regard. Leopold, in 1667, became a cardinal, and was thus withdrawn from Florence ; others of the Academy del Cimento died or went away, and it rapidly sunk into insignificance. But a volume containing reports of the yearly experiments it made, among oth- ers, the celebrated one showing the in- compressibility of water, is generally es- teemed.* 3. The germe of our Royal Society Royal may be traced to the year 1645, Society, when Wallis, Wilkins, Glisson, and others less known, agreed to meet weekly at a private house in London, in order to converse on subjects connected with nat- ural, and especially experimental philoso- phy. Part of these soon afterward set- * Galluzzi, Storia del Gran Ducato, vol. vii., p. 240. Tiraboschi, xi., 204. Corniani, viii., 29. tied in Oxford; and thus arose two iitle societies in connexion with each other, those at Oxford being recruited by Ward, Petty, Willis, and Bathurst. They met at Petty's lodgings till he removed to Ire- land in 1652 ; afterward at those of Wil- kins, in Wadham College, till he became Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1659 ; about which time most of the Ox- ford philosophers came to London, and held their meetings in Gresham College. They became more numerous after the Restoration, which gave better hope of a tranquillity indispensable for science ; and, on the 28th of November, 1660, agreed to form a regular society, which should meet weekly for the promotion of natural phi- losophy ; their registers are kept from this time.* The king, rather fond himself of their subjects, from the beginning af- forded them his patronage ; their first charter is dated 15th July, 1662, incorpo- rating them by the style of the Royal So- ciety, and appointing "Lord Brouncker the first president, assisted by a council of twenty, the conspicuous names among which are Boyle, Kenelm Digby, Wilkins, Wren, Evelyn, and Oldenburg.f The last of these was secretary, and editor of the Philosophical Transactions, the first num- ber of which appeared March 1, 1665, con- taining sixteen pages in quarto. These were continued monthly, or less frequent- ly, according to the materials he possess- ed. Oldenburg ceased to be the editor in 1677, and was succeeded by Grewe, as he was by Hooke. These early transactions are chiefly notes of conversations and re- marks made at the meetings, as well as of experiments either then made or re- ported to the society. J 4. The Academy of Sciences at Paris was established in 1666, under Academy of the auspices of Colbert. The Sciences at king assigned to them a room in Pans- the royal library for their meetings. Those first selected were all mathematicians ; 3ut other departments of science, especial- ly chymistry and anatomy, afterward fur- nished associates of considerable name. It seems, nevertheless, that this academy did not cultivate experimental philosophy with such unremitting zeal as the Royal Society, and * that abstract mathematics lave always borne a larger proportion to the rest of their inquiries. They publish- in this century ten volumes, known as Anciens Memoires de 1' Academic. But near its close, in 1697, they received a reg- * Birch's Hist, of Royal Society, vol. i., p. 1. t Id. ibid., p. 88. j Id., vol. ii., p. 18. Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p. 7. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 421 ular institution from the king, organizing them in a manner analogous to the two oth- er great literary foundations, the French Academy, and that of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres.* 5. In several branches of physics, the state of experimental philosopher is both chymistry. guided and corrected by the eter- nal laws of geometry. In others he wants this aid, and, in the words of his master, knows and understands no more concern- ing the order of nature, than, as her ser- vant and interpreter, he has been taught by observation and tentative processes. All that concerns the peculiar actions of bodies on each other was of this descrip- tion ; though, in our own times, even this has been in some degree brought under the omnipotent control of the modern analysis. Chymistry, or the science of the inolecular constituents of bodies, manifest- ed in such peculiar and reciprocal opera- tions, had never been rescued from empir- ical hands till this period. The transmu- tation of metals, the universal medicine, and other inquiries utterly unphilosophioal in themselves, because they assumed the existence of that which they sought to discover, had occupied the chymists so much, that none of them had made any farther progress than occasionally, by some happy combination or analysis, to con- tribute a useful preparation to pharmacy or to detect an unknown substance. Glau- ber and Van Helmont were the most ac- tive and ingenious of these elder chymists ; but the former has only been remembered by having long given his name to sulphate of soda, while the latter wasted his time on experiments from which he knew not how to draw right inferences, and his powers on hypotheses which a sounder spirit of the inductive philosophy would have taught him to reject. f 6. Chymistry, as a science of principles, hypothetical no doubt, and, in a great measure, unfounded, but co- hering in a plausible system, and better than the reveries of the Paracelsists and Behmenists, was founded by Becker in Germany, by Boyle and his contempora- ries of the Royal Society in England. Becker, a native of Spire, who, after wan- dering from one city of Germany to anoth- er, died in London in 1685, by his Physi- ca Subterranea, published in 1669, laid the foundation of a theory, which, having in the next century been perfected by Stahl, became the creed of philosophy till nearly the end of the last century. " Becker's * Fontenelle, vol. v., p 23. Montucla, Hist, des Mathematiques, vol. ii., p. 557. t Thomson's Hist, of Chemistry, i., 183. theory," says an English writer, " stripped of everything but the naked statement, may be expressed in the following sen- tence : besides water and air there are three other substances, called earths, which enter into the composition of bod- ies ; namely, the fusible or vitrifiable earth, the inflammable or sulphureous, and the mercurial. By the intimate combination of earths with water is formed a univer- sal acid, from which proceed all other acid bodies ; stones are produced by the com- bination of certain earths, metals by the combination of all the three earths in pro- portions which vary according to the metal."* 7. No one Englishman of the seven- teenth century, after Lord Bacon, _ raised to himself so high a reputa- tion in experimental philosophy as Robert Boyle ; it has even been remarked that he was born in the year of Bacon's death, as the person destined by nature to suc- ceed him. A eulogy which would be ex- travagant if it implied any parallel be- tween the genius of the two ; but hardly so if we look on Boyle as the most faith- ful, the most patient, the most successful disciple who carried forward the experi- mental philosophy of Bacon. His works occupy six large volumes in quarto. They may be divided into theological or meta- physical, and physical or experimental. Of the former, we may mention as the most philosophical his Disquisition into the Final Causes of Natural Things, his Free Inquiry into the Received Notion of Nature, his Discourse of Things' above Reason and Religion, his Excellency of Theology, and his Considerations on the Style of the Scriptures ; but the latter, his chymical and experimental writings, form more than two thirds of his prolix works. 8. The metaphysical treatises, to use that word in a large sense, of n l9 meu - Boyle, or, rather, those concerning physical Natural Theology, are very per- ' spicuous, very free from system, and such as bespeak an independent lover of truth. His Disquisition on Final Causes was a well-timed vindication of that palmary ar- gument against the paradox of the Carte- sians, who had denied the validity of an inference from the manifest adaptation of means to ends in the universe to an intel- ligent Providence. Boyle takes a more philosophical view of the principle of final causes than had been found in many theo- logians, who weakened the argument it- self by the presumptuous hypothesis that man was the sole object of Providence in * Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p 168. 422 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the creation.* His greater knowledge of physiology led him to perceive that there are both animal, and what he calls eosmi- cal ends, in which man has no concern. 9. The following passage is so favour- Extract able a specimen of the philosoph- from one ical spirit of Boyle, and so gooc of them. an in us t r ation of the theory of tdols in the Novum Organum,- that, al- though it might better, perhaps, have de- served a place in a former chapter, ] will not refrain from inserting it. " I know not," he says, in his Free Inquiry into the received Notion of Nature, " whether it be a prerogative in the hu- man mind, that, as it is itself a true and positive being, so is it apt to conceive all other things as true and positive beings also ; but whether or no this propensity to frame such kind of ideas supposes an excellency, I fear it occasions mistakes, and makes us think and speak after the manner of true and positive beings, of such things as are but chimerical, and some of them negations or privations themselves ; as death, ignorance, blind- ness, and the like. It concerns us, there- fore, to stand very carefully upon our guard, that we be not insensibly misled by such an innate and unheeded tempta- tion to error as we bring into the world with us."f 10. Boyle improved the airpump and the His merits thermometer, though the latter in physics was first made an accurate in- and chym- s trument of investigation by Newton. He also discovered the law of the air's elasticity, namely, that its bulk is inversely as the pressure. For some of the principles of hydrostat- ics we are indebted to him, though he did not possess much mathematical knowl- edge. The Philosophical Transactions contain several valuable papers by him on this science.^ By his " Skeptical Chymist," published in 1661, he did much to overturn the theories of Van Helmont's school, that commonly called of the iatro- chymists, which was in its highest reputa- tion; raising doubts as to the existence not only of the four elements of the peri- patetics, but of those which these chymists had substituted. Boyle holds i.he elements of bodies to be atoms of different shapes and sizes, the union of which gave origin to what are vulgarly called elements. It is unnecessary to remark that this is the prevailing theory of the present age. 11. I shall borrow the general character * Boyle's Works, vol. v., p. 394. t Id., p. 161. J Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p. 400, 411. f) Thomson's Hist, of Chemistry, i., 205. of Boyle and of his contemporaries Genera i in English chymistry from a mod- cimractei ern author of credit. " Perhaps 0| Bo >' le - Mr. Boyle may be considered as the first person neither connected with pharmacy nor mining who devoted a considerable degree of attention to chymical pursuits Mr. Boyle, though, in common with the literary men of his age, he may be accused of credulity, was both very laborious and intelligent ; and his chymical pursuits, which were various and extensive, and intended solely to develop the truth with- out any regard to previously conceived opinions, contributed essentially to set chymistry free from the trammels of ab- surdity and superstition in which it had been hitherto enveloped, and to recom- mend it to philosophers as a science de- serving to be studied on account of the important information which it was quali- fied to convey. His refutation of the al- chymistical opinions respecting the con- stituents of bodies, his observations on cold, on the air, on phosphorus, and on ether, deserve particularly to be mention- ed as doing him much honour. We have no regular account of any one substance or of any class of bodies in Mr. Boyle similar to those which at present are con- sidered as belonging exclusively to the science of chymistry. Nor did he attempt to systematize the phenomena, or to sub- ject them to any hypothetical explanation. 12. " But his contemporary, Dr. Hooke, who had a particular predilection or Hooke for hypothesis, sketched in his and others. Micrographia a very beautiful theoretical explanation of combustion, and promised to develop his doctrine more fully in a subsequent book ; a promise which he never fulfilled ; though in his Lampas, published about twenty years afterward, he has given a very beautiful explanation of the way in which a candle bu.ns. Mayow, in his Essays, published at Ox- ford about ten years after the Micrographia, mbraced the hypothesis of Dr. Hooke without acknowledgment, but clogged it with so many absurd additions of his own as greatly to obscure its lustre and dimin- ish its beauty. Mayow's first and princi- aal essay contains some happy experi- ments on respiration and air, and some "ortunate conjectures respecting the com- bustion of the metals : but the most valu- able part of the whole is the chapter on affinities ; in which he appears to have one much farther than any chymist of ris day, and to have anticipated some of the best established doctrines of his suc- ;essors. Sir Isaac Newton, to whom all he sciences lie under such great obliga- FROM 1650 TO 1700. 423 turns, made two most important contribu- tions to chymistry, which constitute, as it were, the foundation-stones of its two great divisions. The first was pointing out a method of graduating thermometers, so as to be comparable with each other in whatever part of the world observations with them are made. The second was by pointing out the nature of chymical affinity, am! showing that it consisted in an at- traction by which the constituents of bodies were drawn towards each other and united ; thus destroying the previous hypothesis of the hooks, and points, and rings, and wedges, by means of which the different constituents of bodies were con- teived to be kept together."* 13. Lemery, a druggist at Paris, by his Cours de Chymie in 1675, is said y ' to have changed the face of the science ; the change, nevertheless, seems to have gone no deeper. " Lemery," says Fontenelle, " was the first who dispersed the real or pretended obscurities of chymis- try, who brought it to clearer and more simple notions, who abolished the gross barbarisms of its language, who promised nothing but what he knew the art could perform ; and to this he owed the success of his book. It shows not only a sound understanding, but some greatness of soul, to strip one's own science of a false pomp."t But we do not find that Lemery nad any novel views in chymistry, or that he claims with any irresistible pretension the title of a philosopher. In fact, his chymistry seems to have been little more <;han pharmacy. SECT. II. Ox NATURAL HISTORY. Zoology. Ray. Botanical Classifications. Grew. Geological Theories. 14. THE accumulation of particular iowProz- knowledge in Natural History ressofzo- must always be progressive, Ol sy- where any regard is paid to the subject ; every traveller in remote coun- tries, every mariner may contribute some observation, correct some error, or bring home some new species. Thus zoology had made a regular advance from the days of Conrad Gesner ; yet with so tardy a step, that, reflecting on the extensive in- tercourse of Europe with the Eastern and Western world, we may be surprised to find how little Jonston,"in the middle of the seventeenth century, had added, even * Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p. 466. t Eloge de Lemery, in OSuvres de fontenelle, '..361. Biogr. Universelle. in the most obvious class, that of quadru- peds, to the knowledge collected one hun- dred years before. But hitherto zoology, confined to mere description, and that often careless or indefinite, unenlightened by anatomy, unregulated by method, had not merited the name of a science. That name it owes to John Ray. 15. Ray first appeared in Natural His- tory as the editor of the Orni- _ thology of his highly-accom- B plished friend Francis Willoiighby, with whom he had travelled over the Continent. This was published in 1676 ; and the His- tory of Fishes followed in 1686. The de- scriptions are ascribed to Willoughby, the arrangement to Ray. who might have con- sidered the two works as in great part his own, though he has not interfered with the glory of his deceased friend. Cuvier ob- serves, that the History of Fishes is the more perfect work of the two ; that many species are described which will not be found in earlier ichthyologists, and that those of the Mediterranean especially are given with great precision.* 16. Among the original works of Ray we may select the Synopsis ijj s gynop- Methodica Animalium Quadru- sisofQuad- pedum et Serpentini Generis, ru published in 1693. This book makes an epoch in zoology, not for the additions of new species it contains, since there are few wholly such, but as the first classifi- cation of animals that can be reckoned both general and grounded in nature. He divides them into those with blood and without blood. The former are such as breathe through lungs, and such as breathe through gills. Of the former of these, again, some have a heart with two ventri- cles, some with one only. And among the former class of these, some are viviparous, some oviparous. We thus come to the proper distinction of Mammalia. But, in compliance with vulgar prejudice, Ray did not include the cetacea in the same class with quadrupeds, though well aware that they properly belonged to it, and left them as an order of fishes. t Quadrupeds he was the first to divide into ungulate and unguiculate, hoofed and clawed, having himself invented the Latin words.J The former are solidipeda, bisulca, or quadrisul- ca; the latter are bifida or multifida; and * Biographic Universelle, art. Ray. t Nos ne a communi hominum opmione mmis re- cedamiis, et ut affect atse novitatis noiam evitemus, cetaceum aquatilium genus, quamvis cum quadru- pedibus viviparis in omnibus fere pra>terquam in pilis et pedibus et elemento in quo degunt conven- ire videantur, piscibus annumerabimus, p. 55. P. 50. 424 LITERATURE OF EUROPE these latter with undivided or with partial- ly divided toes ; which latter, again, may have broad claws, as monkeys, or narrow claws ; and these with narrow claws he arranges according to their teeth, as either carnivora or leporina, now generally called rodentia. Besides all these quadruped which he calls analoga, he has a general division called anomala, for those without teeth, or with such peculiar arrangements of teeth as we find in the insectivorous genera, the hedgehog and mole.* 17. Ray was the first zoologist who Merits of made use of comparative anato- tiiis work. mv . h e inserts at length every account of dissections that he could find ; several had been made at Paris. He does not appear to be very anxious about de- scribing every species ; thus, in the simian family, he omits several well known. f I cannot exactly determine what quadru- peds he has inserted that do not appear in the earlier zoologists ; according to Lin- naeus, in the twelfth edition of the Syste- ma Naturae, if I have counted rightly, they amount to thirty-two ; but I have found him very careless in specifying the syno- nymes of his predecessors, and many for which he only quotes Ray are in Gesner or Jonston. Ray has, however, much the advantage over these in the brevity and closeness of his specific characters. " The particular distinction of his labours," says Cuvier, " consists in an arrangement more clear, more determinate than those of any of his predecessors, and applied with more consistency and precision. His distribution of the classes of quadru- peds and birds have been followed by the English naturalists almost to our own days ; and we find manifest traces of that he has adopted as to the latter class in Linnaeus, in Brisson, in Buffon, and in all other ornithologists."! 18. The bloodless animals, and even Red . those of cold blood, with the excep- ip tion of fishes, had occupied but little attention of any good zoologists till after the middle of the century. They were now studied with considerable success. Redi, established as a physician at Florence, had yet time for that various literature which has immortalized his name. He opposed, * P. 56. t Hoc genus animalium turn caudatorum turn cauda carentium species valde numerosas sunt ; non tamen multos apud autores fide dignos descriptor occurrunt. He only describes those species he has found in Clusius or Marcgrave, and what he calls Parisienses, such, I presume, as he had found in the Memoirs of the Academie des Sciences. But he does not mention the Simia Inuus, or the S. Hamadryas, and several others of the most known species. J Biogr. Univ. and, in a great degree, disproved, by ex- periment, the prevailing doctrine of the equivocal generation of insects, or that from corruption ; though where he was unable to show the means of reproduction, he had recourse to a paradoxical hypothe- sis of his own. Redi also enlarged our knowledge of intestinal animals, and made some good experiments on the poison of vipers.* Malpighi, who combated, like Redi, the theory of the reproduction of or- ganized bodies from mere corruption, has given one of the most complete treatises on the silkworm that we pos- swamirer. sess.f Swammerdam, a Dutch dam - naturalist, abandoned his pursuits in hu- man anatomy to follow up that of insects, and by his skill and patience in dissection made numerous discoveries in their struc- ture. His General History of Insects, 1669, contains a distribution into four classes, founded on their bodily forms and the metamorphoses they undergo. A posthumous work, Biblia Naturae, not pub- lished till 1738, contains, says the Bio- graphic Universelle, " a multitude of facts wholly unknown before Swammerdam ; it is impossible to carry farther the anatomy of these little animals, or to be more ex- act in the description of their organs." 19. Lister, an English physician, may be reckoned one of those who have Ijster done most to found the science of conchology by his Historia sive Synopsis Conchyliorum, in 1685 ; a work very co- pious and full of accurate delineations , and also by his three treatises on English animals, two of which relate to fluviatile and marine shells. The third, which is on spiders, is not less esteemed in entomol- ogy. Lister was also perhaps the first to distinguish the specific characters, such, at least, as are now reckoned specific, though probably not in his time, of the Asiatic and African elephant. " His works in natural history and comparative anato- my are justly esteemed, because he has hown himself an exact and sagacious ob- server, and has pointed out with correct- ness the natural relations of the animals that he describes. "J 20. The beautiful science which bears the nonsensical name of com- comparative parative anatomy had but casu- nnatom y- ally occupied the attention of the medical rofession. It was to them, rather than * Biogr. Univ. Tiraboschi, xi., 252. + Idem. J Biogr. Univ. Chalmers. () It is most probable that this term was originally designed to express a comparison between the hu- man structure and that of brutes, though it might also mean one between different species of the lat- er. In the first sense it is never now used, and FROM 1650 TO 1700. 423 to mere zoologists, that it owed, and, in- deed, strictly must always owe, its discov- eries, which had hitherto been very few. It was now more cultivated ; and the re- lations of structure to the capacities of animal life became more striking as their varieties were more fully understood ; the grand theories of final causes found their most convincing arguments. In this pe- riod, I believe, comparative anatomy made an important progress, which, in the ear- lier part of the eighteenth century, was by no means equally rapid. France took the lead in these researches. " The number of papers on comparative anatomy," says Dr. Thomson, " is greater in the memoirs of the French Academy than in our na- tional publication. This was owing to the pains taken during the reign of Louis XIV. to furnish the academy with proper ani- mals, and the number of anatomists who received a salary, and, of course, devo- ted themselves to anatomical subjects.' 1 There are, however, about twenty papers in the Philosophical Transactions before 1700 on this subject.* 21. Botany, notwithstanding the gleams Botany ^ P m l s phifial light which occa- sionally illustrate the writings of Caesalpin and Columna, had seldom gone farther than to name, to describe, and to delineate plants with a greater or less ac- curacy and copiousness. Yet it long had the advantage over zoqlogy, and now, when the latter made a considerable step in advance, it still continued to keep ahead. This is a period of great importance inbo- Jun ius tamca l science. Jungius of Ham- burgh, whose posthumous Isagoge Phytoscopica was published in 1679, is said to have been the first in the seven- teenth century who led the way to a bet- ter classification than that of Lobel ; and Sprengel thinks that the English botanists were not unacquainted with his writings ; Ray, indeed, owns his obligations to them. f 22. But the founder of classification, in the eyes of the world, was Robert Monson. -.. . J , . , , f e Monson, of Aberdeen, professor of botany at Oxford, who, by his Hortus Blesensis, in 1669 ; by his Plantarum Um- belliferarum Distributio Nova, in 1672 ; and chiefly by his great work, Historia Plantarum Universalis, in 1678, laid the bases of a systematic classification, which he partly founded, not on trivial distinc- the second is but a small though important part of the science. Zootomy has been suggested as a bet- ter name, but it is not quite analogical to anatomy ; and, on the whole, it seems as if we must remain with the old word, protesting against its propriety. * Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p 1 14. + Sprengel, Hist Rei Herbariae, vol. ii., p. 32. VOL. II. 3 H tions of appearance, as the older botanists, but, as Caesalpin had first done, on the fructifying organs. He has been frequent- ly charged with plagiarism from that great Italian, who seems to have suffered, as others have done, by failing to carry for- ward his own luminous conceptions into such details of proof as the world justly demands ; another instance of which has been seen in his very striking passages on the circulation of the blood. Spren- gel, however, who praises Morison highly, does not impute to him this injustice to, wards Caesalpin, whose writings might possibly be unknown in Britain.* And it might be observed, also, that Morison did not, as has sometimes been alleged, es- tablish the fruit as the sole basis of his arrangement. Out of fifteen classes, into which he distributes all herbaceous plants, but seven are characterized by this dis tinction.f "The examination of Mori son's works," says a late biographer, " will enable us to judge of the service he ren- dered in the reformation of botany. The great botanists, from Gesner to the Bau- hins, had published works more or less useful by their discoveries, their observa- tions, their descriptions, or their figures. Gesner had made a great step in consid- ering the fruit as the principal distinction of genera. Fabius Columna adopted this view ; Caesalpin applied it to a classifica- tion which should be regarded as better than any that preceded the epoch of which we speak. Morison had made a particular study of fruits, having collected 1500 dif- ferent species of them, though he did not neglect the importance of the natural af- finities of other parts. He dwells on this leading idea, insists on the necessity of establishing generic characters, and has founded his chief works on this basis. He has therefore done real service to the science ; nor should the vanity which has made him conceal his obligations to Cxa- alpin induce us to refuse him justice."} Morison speaks of his own theory with excessive vanity, and depreciates all ear lier botanists as full of confusion. Sev eral English writers have been unfavour- able to Morison, out of partiality to Ray with whom he was on bad terms ; bu 1 Tournefort declares that if he had not en lightened botany, it would still have been in darkness. 23. Ray, in his Methodus Plantarum Nova, 1682, and in his Historja Plan- taruin Universalis, in three volumes, the first published in 1686, the second in * Sprengel, p 34. t Pulleney, Historical Progress of Rotany in Eng land, vol i., p. 307. I Biogr. Universelle. 426 LITERATURE OF EUROPE 1688, and the third, which is supplement- al, in 1704, trod in the steps of Morison, but with more acknowledgment of what was due to others, and with some im- provements of his own. He described 6900 plants, many of which are now con- sidered as varieties.* In the botanical works of Ray we rind the natural families of plants better denned, the difference of complete and incomplete flowers more precise, and the grand division of monoco- tyledons and bicotyledons fully establish- ed. He gave much precision to the char- acteristics of many classes, and introduced several technical terms very useful for the perspicuity of botanical language ; finally, he established many general principles of arrangement which have since been adopt- ed, f Ray's method of classification was principally by the fruit, though he admits its imperfections. " In fact, his method," says Pulteney, " though he assumes the fruit as the foundation, is an elaborate at- tempt, for that time, to fix natural class- es."! 24. Rivinus, in his Introductio in Rem Herbariam, Leipsic, 1690. a very Rivinus. , c ,'..-' short performance, struck into a new path, which has modified, to a great degree, the systems of later botanists. Caesalpin and Morison had looked mainly to the fruit as the basis of classification ; Rivinus added the flower, and laid down as a fundamental rule that all plants which resemble each other, both in the flower and in the fruit, ought to bear the same generic nnme.fy In some pages of this Introduction we certainly find the basis of the Critica Botanica of Linnaeus. || Rivi- nus thinks the arrangement of Caesalpin the best, and that Morison has only spoil- ed what he took ; of Ray he speaks in terms of eulogy, but blames some part of his method. His own is primarily found- ed on the flower, and thus he forms eigh- teen classes, which, by considering the differences of the fruits, he subdivides into ninety-one genera. The specific distinc- tions he founded on the general habit and appearance of the plant. His method is more thoroughly artificial as opposed to natural; that is, more established on a single principle, which often brings hete- rogeneous plants and families together, than that of any of his predecessors ; for even Ray had kept the distinction of trees from shrubs and herbs, conceiving it to be founded in their natural fructification. Rivinus set aside wholly this leading di- vision. Yet he had not been able to re- duce all plants to his method, and admit- ted several anomalous divisions.* , 25. The merit of establishing a uniform and consistent system was re- served for Tournefort. His El- " emens de la Botanique appeared in 1694 ; the Latin translation, Institutiones Rei Herbariae, in 1700. Tournefort, like Rivi- nus, took the flower or corolla as the ba- sis of his system ; and the varieties in the structure, rather than number, of the petals furnish him with his classes. The genera for, like other botanists before Linnaeus, he has no intermediate division are es- tablished by the flower and fruit conjoint- ly, or, now and then, by less essential dif- ferences, for he held it better to constitute new genera than, as others had done, to have anomalous species. The accessory parts of a plant are allowed to supply spe- cific distinctions. But Tournefort divides vegetables, according to old prejudice which it is surprising that, after the pre- cedent of Rivinus to the contrary, he should have regarded into herbs and trees, and thus he has twenty-two class- es. Simple flowers, monopetalous or po- lypetalous, form eleven of these ; com- posite flowers, three ; the apetalous, one ; the cryptogamous, or those without flow- er or fruit, make another class ; shrubs or suffrutices are placed in the seventeenth ; and trees, in five more, are similarly dis- tributed, according to their floral charac- ters.! Sprengel extols much of the sys- tem of Tournefort, though he disapproves of the selection of a part so often wanting as the corolla for the sole basis ; nor can its various forms be comprised inTourne- fort's classes. His orders are well mark- ed, according to the same author ; but he multiplied both his genera and species too much, and paid too little attention to the stamina. His method was less repugnant to natural affinities, and more convenient in practice than any which had come since Lobel. Most of Tournefort's generic dis- tinctions were preserved by Linnaeus, and some, which had been abrogated without sufficient reason, have since been resto- red. | Ray opposed the system of Tour- nefort, but some have thought that in his later works he came nearer to it, so as to be called magis corollista quam fructista.fy This, however, is not acknowledged by Pulteney, who has paid great attention to Ray's writings. 26. The classification and description * Pulteney. The account of Ray's life and bo- tanical writings in this work occupies nearly 100 pages. t Biogr. Universelle. \ P. 259. $ Biogr. Univ. || Id. * Biogr. Univ. Sprengel, p. 56. t Biogr. Univ. Thomson's Hist, of Royal So- ciety, p. 34. Sprengel, p. 64. J Biogr. Universelle. Id. FROM 1650 TO 1700. vegetable of plants constitute what gener- physiuiogy. ally is called botany. But these began now to be studied in connexion with the anatomy and physiology of the vegetable world ; a phrase not merely an- alogical, because as strictly applicable as to animals, but which had never been em- ployed before the middle of the seven- teenth century. This interesting science G is almost wholly due to two men, v ' Grew and Malpighi. Grew first di- rected his thoughts towards the anatomy of plants in 1664, in consequence of read- ing several books of animal anatomy, which suggested to him that plants, being the works of the same Author, would prob- ably show similar contrivances. Some had introduced observations of this nature, as Highmore, Sharrock, and Hooke, but only collaterally ; so that the systematic treatment of the subject, following the plant from the seed, was left quite open for himself. In 1670 he presented the first book of his work to the Royal Socie- ty, who next year ordered it to be print- ed. It was laid before the society in print, December, 1671 ; and on the same day, a manuscript by Malpighi, on the same subject, was read. They went on from this time with equal steps ; Malpi- ghi, however, having caused Grew's book to be translated for his own use. Grew speaks very honourably of Malpighi, and without claiming more than the statement of facts permits him.* 27. The first book of his Anatomy of His Anatomy Plants, which is the title given of Plants. to three separate works, when published collectively in 1682, contains the whole of his physiological theory, which is developed at length in those that follow. The nature of vegetation and its processes seem to have been unknown when he began, save that common obser- vation and the more accurate experience of gardeners and others must have collect- ed the obvious truths of vegetable anato- my. He does not quote Caesalpin, and may have been unacquainted with his wri- tings. No man, perhaps, who created a science has carried it farther than Grew ; lie is so close and diligent in his observa- tions, making use of the microscope, that comparatively few discoveries of great im- portance have been made in the mere anat- omy of plants since his time ;| though some of his opinions are latterly disputed by Mirbel and others of a new botanical school. 28. The great discovery ascribed to * Pulteney. Chalmers. Biogr. Univ. Sprengel calls Grew's book opus absolutuin et immortale. f Biogr. Univ. Grew is of the sexual system in plants. He speaks thus of what m ,K he calls the attire, though rath- ual system er, 1 think, in obscure terms : " The pri- mary and chief use of the attire is such as hath respect to the plant itself, and so ap- pears to be very great and necessary. Be- cause even those plants which have no flower or foliature are yet some way or other attired, either with the seminiform or the floral attire. So that it seems to perform its service to the seeds as the fo- liature to the fruit. In discourse hereof with our learned Savilian professor, Sir Thomas Millington, he told me he con- ceived that the attire doth serve, as the male, for the generation of the seed. I immediately replied that I was of the same opinion, and gave him some reasons for it, and answered some objections which might oppose them. But withal, in regard every plant is appevoftr/toc, or male and fe- male, that I was also of opinion that it serveth for the separation of some parts as well as the affusion of others."* He proceeds to explain his notion of vegeta- ble impregnation. It is singular that he should suppose all plants to be hermaph- rodite, and this shows he could not have recollected what had long been known as to the palm, or the passage in Caesalpin relative to the subject. 29. Ray admitted Grew's opinion cau- tiously at first : Nos ut veri- ramenmus similem tantum admittimus. confirms this. But in his Sylloge Stirpium, 1694, he fully accedes to it. The real establishment of the sexual theory, however, is due to Cam- erarius, professor of botany at Tubingen, whose letter on that subject, published 1694, in the work of another, did much to spread the theory over Europe. His ex- periments, indeed, were necessary to con- firm what Grew had rather hazarded as a conjecture than brought to a test ; and he showed that flowers deprived of their stam- ina do not produce seed capable of con- tinuing the species. f Woodward, in the Philosophical Transactions, illustrated the nutrition of plants, by putting sprigs of vegetables in vials filled with water, and, after some time, determining the weight they had gained and the quantity they had imbibed.}: These experiments had been made by Van Helmont, who had inferred from them that water is convertible into solid matter.^ 30. It is just to observe that some had Book iv., ch. 1. He had hinted at some " pri- mary and private use of the attire" in book i.. ch. &. t Sprengel. Biogr. Univ. Pulteney, p. 338. J Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society, p 58. t, Thomson's Hist, of Chemistry. 428 LITERATURE OF EUROPE Predecessors preceded Grew in vegetable jf Grew. physiology. Aromatari, in a let- ter of only four pages? published at Venice in 1625, on the generation of plants from seed, \\hich was reprinted in the Philo- sophical Transactions, showed the analo- gy between grains and eggs, each contain- ing a minute organized embryo, which em- ploys the substances enclosing it for its own development. Aromatari has also undertsood the use of the cotyledons.* Brown, in his Inquiry into Vulgar Errors, has remarks on the budding of plants, and on the quinary number they affect in their flower. Kenelm Digby, according to Sprengel, first explained the necessity in vegetation for qxygen or vital air, which had lately been discovered by Bathurst. Hooke carried the discoveries hitherto made in vegetable anatomy much farther in his Micrographia. Sharrock and Lister contributed some knowledge, but they were rather later than Grew. None of these deserve such a place as Mal- Maipigiu. pighj^ w ho, says Sprengel, was not inferior to Grew in acujteness, though, probably, through some illusions of preju- dice, he has not so w^ll understood and explained many things. But the structure and growth of seed he has explained bet- ter, and Grew seems to have followed him. His book is also better arranged and more concise. f The Dutch did much to enlarge botanical science. The Hortus Indicus Malabaricus of Rheede, who had been a governor in India, was published at his own expense in twelve volumes, the first appearing in 1686 ; it contains an immense number of new plants.;]: The Herbarium Amboinense of Rumphius was collected in the seventeenth century, though not pub- lished till 1741.$ Several botanical gar- dens were formed in different countries ; among others, that of Chelsea was opened in 1686-1 31. It was impossible that men of in- Early notion* quiring tempers should not have of geology, been led to reflect on those re- markable phenomena of the earth's visi- ble structure, which, being in course of time accurately registered and arranged, have become the basis of that noble sci- ence, the boast of our age, geology. The first thing which must strike the eyes of the merest clown, and set the philosopher thinking, is the irregularity of the surface of our globe ; the more this is observed, the more signs of violent disruption, and of a prior state of comparative uniformity * Sprengel. Biogr. Univ. t Sprengel, p. 15. t Biogr. Univ. The date of the first volume is given erroneously in the Biographic Universelle. $ IL || Sprengel. Pulteney. appear. Some, indeed, of whom Ray seems to have been one,* were so much impressed by the theory of final causes, that, perceiving the fitness of the present earth for its inhabitants, they thought it might have been created in such a state of physical ruin. But the contrary infer- ence is almost irresistible. A still more forcible argument for great revolutions in the history of the earth is drawn from a second phenomenon of very general oc- currence, the marine and other fossil relics of organized beings, which are dug up in strata far remote from the places where these bodies could now exist. It was common to account for them by the Mot- saic deluge. But the depth at which they are found was incompatible with this hy- pothesis. Others fancied them to be not really organized, but sports of nature, aa they were called, the casual resemblances of shells and fishes in stone. The Ital- ians took the lead in speculating on these problems ; but they could only arrive now and then at a happier conjecture than usual, and do not seem to have planned any scheme of explaining the general structure of the earth. f The Mundus Subterraneus of Athanasius Kircher, fa- mous for the variety and originality of his erudition, contains probably the geology of his age, or, at least, his own. It was published in 1662. Ten out of twelve books relate to the surface or the interior of the earth, and to various terrene pro- ductions ; the remaining two to alchymy and other arts connected with mineralogy. Kircher seems to have collected a great deal of geographical and geological knowl- edge. In England, the spirit of observa- tion was so strong after the establishment of the Royal Society, that the Philosoph- ical Transactions in this period contain a considerable number of geognostic pa- pers, and the genius of theory was arous- ed, though not at first in his happiest mood.J 32. Thomas Burnet, master of the Char- ter House, a man fearless and Burners somewhat rash, with more ima- Theory of gination than philosophy, but in- ' genious and eloquent, published in 1694 his Theoria Telluris Sacra, which he af- terward translated into English. The pri- mary question for the early geologists had always been how to reconcile the phae- nomena with which they were acquainted to the Mosaic narratives of the creation * See Ray's Three Physico-Theoloeical Dis- courses on the Creation, Deluge, and final Confla- gration, 1692. t Lyell's Principles of Geology, vol. i., p. 25. j Thomson's Hist, of Royal Society. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 429 and deluge. Every one was satisfied that his own theory was the best ; but in ev- ery case it has hitherto proved, whatever may take place in future, that the pro- posed scheme has neither kept to the letter of Scripture nor to the legitimate deduc- tions of philosophy. Burnet gives the reins to his imagination more than any other writer on that which, if not argued upon by inductive reasoning, must be the dream of one man, little better in reality, though it may be more amusing, than the dream of another. He seems to be emi- nently ignorant of geographical facts, and has hardly ever recourse to them as evi- dence. And, accordingly, though his book drew some attention as an ingenious ro- mance, it does not appear that he made a other ge- single disciple. Winston opposed oiogtsts. Burnet's theory, but with one not less unfounded, nor with less ignorance of all that required to be known. Hooke, Lister, Ray, and Woodward came to the subject with more philosophical minds, and with a better insight into the real phenomena. Hooke seems to have dis- played his usual sagacity in conjecture ; he saw that the common theory of ex- plaining marine fossils by the Mosaic del- uge would not suffice, and perceived that, at some time or other, a part of the earth's crust must have been elevated and another part depressed by some subterraneous power. Lister was aware of the continu- ity of certain strata over large districts and proposed the construction of geologi cal maps. Woodward had a still more ex- tensive knowledge of stratified rocks; he was in a manner the founder of scientific mineralogy in England, but his geological theory was not less chimerical than thosp of his" contemporaries.* It was first pub- lished in the Philosophical Transaction for 1695. f 33 The Protogaea of Leibnitz appears proton or in felicity of conjecture and nn- i,eibnitz. nu te attention to facts, far above any c< these. But this short tract wa only published in 1749, and, on reading it 1 have found an intimation that it was no written within the seventeenth century Yet I cannot refrain from mentioning tha his hypothesis supposes the gradual cool ing of the earth from igneous fusion ; tin formation of a vast body of water to cove the surface, a part of his theory but ill es tablished, and apparently the weakest o the whole ; the subsidence of the lowe parts of the earth, which he takes to hav been once on the level of the highes mountains, by the breaking in of vaultc Lyell, p. 31. t Thomson, p. 207 averns within its bosom ;* the deposition f sedimentary strata from inundations, leir induration, and the subsequent cov- ring of these by other strata through resh inundations ; with many other no- ions which have been gradually matured nd rectified in the process of the science. f S T o one can read the Protogsea without icrceiving that of all the early geologists. >r, indeed, of all down to a time not very emote, Leibnitz came nearest to the the- ries which are most received in the Eng- ish school at this day. It is evident that f the literal interpretation of Genesis, by i period of six natural days, had not re- trained him, he would have gone much arther in his views of the progressive evolutions of the earth. J Leibnitz had made very minute inquiries, for his age, nto fossil species, and was aware of the nain facts which form the basis of mod- rn geology.^ SECT. III. ON ANATOMY AND MEDICINE. 34. PORTAL begins the history of this )eriod, which occupies more than eight lundred pages of his voluminous work, by announcing it as the epoch most favour- able to anatomy : in less than fifty years ;he science put on a new countenance ; nature is interrogated, every part of the aody is examined with an observing spirit ; Sect. 21. He admits also a partial elevation by intumescence, but says, ut vat-tis^iina: Alpes ex solida jam terra eruptione surre.xerint, minus consentaneum puto. Scin.us tamen et in illis de- prehendi reliquias maris. Cum ergo alterutrum fMftnin onnrtPflt. crp'iiMlios rnulto arbi'ror rlrfl'JX- isse aquas spontaneo nisu. quam ingentem terrarurn pattern incredibili violentia tain site ascendisse. Sect. 22. t Facies teneri adhuc orlns ssepms novata est ; donee quiescentibus causis atque a?quilihratis, r on- sistentior ernergeret status rerum. I'mle jim du- plex origo intelligitur firmorum corporum ; una cum ignis fusionc refrigescerent, altera cum rerun- crescerent ex solntione aquarum. Neque igitur putandum est lapides ex sda esse fwione Id enim potissimum de prima tatiUim massa ex terra! baai accipio; NPC ilnbito. postea matenam liquidamin superficie trlluns procurrentem, quiete mox reddi- ta ex ramentis sub.ictis inpentem inaten* vim de posuissp. quorum alia v^rias terra; species forma- runt, alia in saxa induruere, e qnihns strata diversa sihi super imposita diversas prsecipitationurn vices atque intervalla testantur. Sect. 4 This he calls the incunabula of the world, an the basis of a new science, which might be denomi- nated " naturals geographia." But w.sely adds, licet conspirent vestigia vetens mundi in prasei facie rerum, tamen rectius omma dehment posten, ubi cunositas eo processed, ut per region^ pro- currentia soli genera et strata describant.-faect. 5. J See sect. 21,etahbi. () Sect. 24, et usque ad ftnem Ubn. 430 LITERATURE OF EUROPE the mutual intercourse of nations diffuses the light on every side ; a number of great men appear, whose genius and industry excite our admiration.* But for this very reason I must, in these concluding pages, glide over a subject rather foreign to my own studies, and to those of the generality of my readers, with a very brief enumera- tion of names. 35. The Harveian theory gained ground, Circulation though obstinate prejudice gave oittie biooa way but slowly. It was con- Mtablislied. firmed fay thfi exper j ment of transfusing blood, tried on dogs, at the in- stance of Sir Christopher Wren, in 1657, and repeated by Lower in 1661.J Malpi- ghi in 1661, and Leeuwenhoek in 1690, by means of their microscopes, demonstrated the circulation of the blood in the smaller vessels, and rendered visible the anasto- moses of the arteries and veins, upon which the theory depended. | From this time it seems to have been out of doubt. Pecquet's discovery of the thoracic duct, or, rather, of its uses, as a reservoir of the chyle from which the blood is elaborated, for the canal itself had been known to Eustachius, stands next to that of Harvey, which would have thrown less light on physiology without it, and, like his, was perseveringly opposed.^ 36. Willis, a physician at Oxford, is Wiiiis. called by Portal, who thinks all Vieussens mankind inferior to anatomists, one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived : his bold systems have given him a distinguished place among physiologers.|j His Anatomy of the Brain, in which, however, as in his other works, he was much assisted by an intimate friend, and anatomist of the first character. Lower, is, according to the same writer, a mas- terpiece of imagination and labour. He made many discoveries in the structure of the brain, and has traced the nerves from it far better than his predecessors, who had, in general, very obscure ideas of their course. Sprengel says that Willis is the first who has assigned a peculiar mental function to each of the different parts of the brain ; forgetting, as it seems, that this hypothesis, the basis of modern phrenol- ogy, had been generally received, as I un- derstand his own account, in the sixteenth century.^ Vieussens of Montpelier car- ried on the discoveries in the anatomy of the nerves, in his Neurographia Univer- ealis, 1684 ; tracing those arising from the Hist, de 1'Anatomie, vol. iii., p. 1. t Sprengel, Hist, de la Mdecine, vol. iv., p. 120. j Id , p. 126, 142. $ Portal. Sprengel. || P. 88. Biogr. Univ. t Sprengel, p. 250. See p. 81. spinal marrow which Willis had not done, and following the minute ramifications of those that are spread over the skin.* 37. Malpighi was the first who employ- ed good microscopes in anatomy, Ma| . } hj _ and thus revealed the secrets, we may say, of an invisible world, which Leeuwenhoek afterward, prob- other anato- ably using still better instru- lmsts - ments, explored with surprising success. To Malpighi anatomists owe their knowl- edge of the structure of the lungs. f Graaf has overthrown many errors, and sug- gested many truths in the economy of generation. | Malpighi prosecuted this in- quiry with his microscope, and first traced the progress of the egg during incuba- tion. But the theory of evolution, as it is called, proposed by Harvey, and sup- ported by Malpighi, received a shock by Leeuwenhoek's or Hartsoeker's discov- ery of spermatic animalcules, which ap- parently opened a new view of reproduc- tion. The hypothesis they suggested be- came very prevalent for the rest of the seventeenth century, though it is said to have been shaken early in the next.^ Bo- relli applied mathematical principles to muscular movements in his treatise De Motu Animalium. Though he is a better mathematician than anatomist, he pro- duces many interesting facts, the mechani- cal laws are rightly applied, and his meth- od is clear and consequent. || Duverney, in his Treatise on Hearing, in 1683, his only work, obtained a considerable repu- tation ; it threw light on many parts of a delicate organ, which by their minuteness had long baffled the anatomist.^f In May- ow's Treatise on Respiration, published in London, 1668, we find the necessity of oxygen to that function laid down ; but this portion of the atmosphere had been discovered by Bathurst and Henshaw in 1654, and Hooke had shown by experi- ment that animals die when the air is de- prived of it.** Ruysch, a Dutch physician, perfected the art of injecting anatomical preparations, hardly known before, and thus conferred an inestimable benefit on the science. He possessed a celebrated cabinet of natural history. |f 38. The chymical theory of medicine, which had descended from Paracel- Medical sus through Van Helmont, was theories, propagated chiefly by Sylvius, a physician * Portal, vol. iv.,p. 5. Sprengel, p. 256. Biogr. Univ. t Portal, iii , 120. Sprengel, p. 578. + Portal, iii., 219. Sprengel, p. 303. $ Sprengel, p. 309. || Portal, iii., 246. Biogr. Univ. T Portal, p. 464. Sprengel, p. 288. ** Portal, p. 176, 181. ft W., p. 259. Biogr. Univ. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 431 of Holland, who is reckoned the founder of what was called the chymiatric school His works were printed at Amsterdam h 1679, but he had promulgated his theory from the middle of the century. His lead- ing principle was that a perpetual ferment- ation goes on in the human body, from the deranged action of which diseases pro- ceed ; most of them from excess of acidi- ty, though a few are of alkaline origin. " He degraded the physician," says Spren- gel, " to the level of a distiller or a brew- er."* This writer is very severe on the chymiatric school, one of their offences in his eyes being their recommendation of tea ; " the cupidity of Dutch merchants conspiring with their medical theories." It must be owned that when we find them prescribing also a copious use of tobacco, it looks as if the trade of the doctor went hand in hand with those of his patients. Willis, in England, was a partisan of the chymiatrics,t and they had a great influ- ence in Germany ; though in France the attachment of most physicians to the Hip- pocratic and Galenic methods, which brought upon them so many imputations of pedantry, was little abated. A second school of medicine, which superseded this, is called the iatro-mathematical. This seems to have arisen in Italy. Borelli's application of mechanical principles to the muscles has been mentioned above. These physicians sought to explain every- thing by statical and hydraulic laws ; they were therefore led to study anatomy, since it was only by an accurate knowl- edge of all the parts that they could apply their mathematics. John Bernouilli even taught them to employ the differential cal- culus in explaining the bodily functions. J But this school seems to have had the same leading defect as the chymiatric ; it forgot the peculiarity of the laws of or- ganization and life, which often render those of inert matter inapplicable. Pit- cairn and Boerhaave were leaders of the iatro-mathematicians; and Mead was reck- oned the last of its distinguished patrons. $ Meantime, a third school of medicine grew up, denominated the empirical ; a name to be used in a good sense, as denoting their regard to observation and experience, or the Baconian principles of philosophy. Sydenham was the first of these in Eng- land ; but they gradually prevailed to the exclusion of all systematic theory. The discovery of several medicines, especially the Peruvian bark, which was first used in Spain about 1640, and in England about 1654, contributed to the success of the empirical physicians, since the efficacy of some of these could not be explained on the hypotheses hitherto prevalent.* * Vol. v., p. 59. Biogr. Univ. t Sprengel, p. 73. t Id., p. 159. $ Id., p. 182. See Biographic Universelle, art. Boerhaave, for a general criticism of the iatro- mathematicians. SECT. IV. ON ORIENTAL LITERATURE. 39. THE famous Polyglott of Brian Wal- ton was published in 1657; but i' iy g i it few copies appear to have been 0| waiwn. sold before the restoration of Charles IJ. in 1660, since those are very scarce which contain in the preface^the praise of Crom- well for having facilitated and patronised the undertaking; praise replaced in the change of times by a loyal eulogy on the king. This Polyglott is in nine languages, though no one book of the Bible is printed in so many. Walton's Prolegomena are in sixteen chapters or dissertations. His learning, perhaps, was greater than his critical acuteness or good sense ; such, at least, is the opinion of Simon and Le Long. The former, in a long examination of Walton's Prolegomena, treats him with all the superiority of a man who possessed both. Walton was assailed by some big- ots at home for acknowledging various readings in the Scriptures, and for deny- ing the authority of the vowel punctua- tion. His Polyglott is not reckoned so magnificent as the Parisian edition of Le Long, but it is fuller and more conve- nient.! Edmund Castell, the coadjutor of Walton in this work, published his Lexi- con Heptaglotton in 1669, upon which he dad consumed eighteen years and the whole of his substance. This is frequently old together with the Polyglott. 40. Hottinger of Zurich, by a number of works on the Eastern Ian- no ,, inger guages, and especially by the Bibliofheca Orientalis in 1658, established a reputation which Ihese books no longer retain since the whole field of Oriental lit- rature has been more fully explored. Spencer, in a treatise of great eru- 8pencCT dition, De Legibus Hebraeorum, 1685, gave some offence by the suggestion that several of the Mosaic institution! were borrowed from the Egyptian, though he general scope of the Jewish law was in opposition to the idolatrous practices of the neighbouring nations. The vast learning of Bochart expanded itself over Oriental antiquity, especially Sprengel, p. 413. t Simon, Hist. Critique Ju Vienx Testament, p. 541. Chalmers. Biogr. Briian. Biogr. Um. Bru- net. Man. du Libiaire. 432 LITERATURE OF EUROPE that of which the Hebrew nation and lan- guage is the central point ; but his etymo- logical conjectures have long since been set aside, and he has not in other respects escaped the fate of the older Orientalists. 41. The great services of Pococke to Pococke Ara ' 3ic literature, which had com- menced in the earlier part of the century, were extended to the present. His edition and translation of the Annals of Eutychius in 1658, that of the History of Abuifaragius in 1663, with many other works of a similar nature, bear witness to his industry ; no Englishman probably has ever contributed so much to that province of learning.* A fine,edition of the Koran, and still esteemed the best, was due to Marracci, professor of Arabic in the Sapi- enza or University of Rome, and publish- ed at the expense of Cardinal Barbadigo, in 1698. f But France had an Orientalist of the most extensive learning in I) Herbelot. ,-,, rT , , , r-i_i- .u - D Herbelot, whose Bibhotheque Orientale must be considered as making an epoch in this literature. It was published in 1697, after his death, by Galland, who had also some share in arranging the ma- terials. This work, it has been said, is for the seventeenth century what the His- tory of the Huns by De Guignes is for the eighteenth : with this difference, that D'Herbslot opened the road, and has often been copied by his successor.! 42. Hyde, in his Religionis Persarum H de Historia, published in 1700, was the first who illustrated in a systematic manner the religion of Zoroaster, which he always represents in a favourable man- ner. The variety and novelty of its con- tents gave this book a credit which in some degree it preserves ; but Hyde was ignorant of the ancient language of Persia, and is said to have been often misled by Mohammedan authorities. $ The vast in- crease of Oriental information in modern times, as has been, intimated above*, ren- ders it difficult for any work of the seven- teenth century to keep its ground. In their own times, the writings of Kircher on China, and, still more, those of Ludolf on Abyssinia, which were founded on his own knowledge of the country, claimed a respectable place in Oriental learning. It is remarkable that very little was yet known of the Indian languages, though grammars existed of the Tamul, and per- haps some others, before the close of the seventeenth century. || * Chalmers. Bio/ir. Univ. t Tiraboschi, xi.,398. j Biographic Universelle. U Eichhorn, Gescti. der Cultur, v., 269. Id. SECT. V. ON GEOGRAPHY AND HISTORT. 43. THE progress of geographical sci- ence long continued to be slow. Maps of the If we compare the map of the Bausons. world in 1651, by Nicolas Sanson, esteem- ed on all sides the best geographer of his age, with one by his son in 1692, the va- riances will not appear, perhaps, so con- siderable as we might have expected. Yet some improvement may be detected by the eye. Thus the Caspian Sea has as- sumed its longer diameter from north to south, contrary to the old map. But the Sea of Aral is still wanting. The coasts of New Holland, except to the east, are tolerably laid down, and Corea is a penin- sula instead of an island. Cambalu, the imaginary capital of Tartary, has disap- peared ;* but a vast lake is placed in the centre of that region ; the Altai range is carried far too much to the north, ana the name of Siberia seems unknown. Africa and America have nearly the same outline as before ; in the former, the Empire of Monomotopa stretches to join that of Abyssinia in about the 12th degree of south latitude ; and the Nile still issues, as in all the old maps, from a lake Zayre, in near- ly the same parallel. The coasts of Eu- rope, and especially of Scandinavia, are a little more accurate. The Sanson family, of whom several were publishers, of maps, did not take pains enough to improve what their father had executed, though they might have had material helps from the astronomical observations which were now continually made in different parts of the world. 44. Such was the state of geography when, in 1699, De Lisle, the real p e ysie's founder of the science, at the age map of tiie of twenty-four, published his map world - of the world. He had been guided by the observations, and worked under the direc- tions of Cassini, whose tables of the emersion of Jupiter's satellites, calculated for the meridian of Bologna in 1668, and, with much improvement, for that of Paris in 1693, had prepared the way for the per- fection of geography. The latitudes of different regions had been tolerably ascer- tained by observation ; but no good meth- od of determining the longitude had been known before this application of Galileo"^ great discovery. It is evident that the appearance of one of those satellites at Paris being determined by the tables to a precise instant, the means were given to find the longitudinal distance of other * The Camhalu of Marco Polo is probably Pe- kin ; but the geographers frequently placed this cap- ital of Cathay north of the wall of China. FROM 1650 TO 1700. 433 places by observing the difference of time ; and thus a great number of observations having gradually been made, a basis was laid for an accurate delineation of the sur- face of the globe. The previous state of geography, and the imperfect knowledge which the mere experience of navigators could furnish, may be judged by the fact that the Mediterranean Sea was set down with an excess of 300 leagues in length, being more than one third of the whole. De Lisle reduced it within its bounds, and cut off, at the same time, 500 leagues from the longitude of Eastern Asia. "This was the commencement of the geographical labours of De Lisle, which reformed, in the first part of the eighteenth century, not only the general outline of the world, but the minuter relations of various coun- tries. His maps amount to more than one hundred sheets.* 45. The books of travels, in the last fif- Voyages and ty years of the seventeenth cen- traveis. tury, were far more numerous and more valuable than in any earlier pe- riod, but we have no space for more than a few names. Gemelli Carreri, a Neapol- itan, is the first who claims to have writ- ten an account of his own travels round the world, describing Asia and America with much detail. His Giro del Mondo was published in 1699. Carreri has been strongly suspected of fabrication, and even of having never seen the countries which he describes; but his character, I know not with what justice, has been latterly vindicated.! The French justly boast the excellent travels of Chardin, Bernier, The- venot, and Tavernier in the East ; the ac- count of the Indian Archipelago and of China by Nieuhoff, employed in a Dutch embassy to the latter empire, is said to have been interpolated by the editors, though he was an accurate and faithful observer.J Several other relations of voyages were published in Holland, some of which can only be had in the native language. In English there were not many of high reputation : Dampier's Voy- age round the World, the first edition of which was in 1697, is better known than any which I can call to mind. 46. The general characteristics of his- torians in this period are neither Historians. a ] um j nous philosophy nor a rig- orous examination of evidence. But, as before, we mention only a few names in this extensive province of literature. The * Eloge de De Lisle, in (Euvres de Fontenelle, vol. vi., p. 253. Eloge de Cassini, in vol. v., p. 328. Biogr. Universelle. t Tiraboschi, xi., 86. Salfi, xi., 442. j Biogr. Univ. VOL. II. 3 I History of the Conquest of Mexico, by An- tonio de Solis, is " the last good work," says Sismondi, perhaps too De Soli8 ' severely, " that Spain has produced ; the last where purity of taste, simplicity, and truth are preserved ; the imagination, of which the author had given so many proofs, does not appear."* Bouterwek is not less favourable ; but Robertson, who holds De Solis rather cheap as an histo rian, does not fail to censure even hi style. 47. The French have some authors ol history, who, by their elegance Memoir? d and perspicuity, might deserve i>e Retz. notice ; such as St. Real, Father D'Or- leans, and even Varillas, proverbially dis- credited as he is for want of veracity The Memoirs of Cardinal de Retz rise above these ; their animated style, their excellent portraitures of character, their acute and brilliant remarks, distinguish their pages as much as the similar quali- ties did their author. " They are written," says Voltaire, " with an air of greatness, an impetuosity and an inequality which are the image of his life ; his expression, sometimes incorrect, often negligent, but almost always original, recalls continually to his readers what has been so frequent- ly said'of Caesar's Commentaries, that he wrote with the same spirit that he carried on his wars."f The Memoirs of Gram- mont, by Antony Hamilton, scarcely chal- lenge a place as historical, but we are now looking more at the style than tfie intrin- sic importance of books. Every one is aware of the peculiar felicity and fascina- ting gayety which they display. 48. The Discourse of Bossuet on Uni- versal History is, perhaps, the Bos8U e t greatest effort of his wonderful on univer- geniUs. Every preceding abridg- sai Hlstor y- ment of so immense a subject had been superficial and dry. He first irradiated the entire annals of antiquity, down to the age of Charlemagne, with flashes of light that reveal a unity and coherence which had been lost in their magnitude and ob- scurity. It is not, perhaps, an unfair ob- jection that, in a history calling itself that of all mankind, the Jewish people have obtained a disproportionate regard ; and it might be almost as reasonable, on religious grounds, to give Palestine a larger space in the map of the world, as, on a like pre- text, to make the scale of the Jewish his- tory so much larger than that of the rest of the human race. The plan of Bossuet has at least divided his book into two Literature du Midi, iv., 101. t Biogr. Univ., whence 1 take the quotation. 434 LITERATURE OF EUROPE FROM 1650 TO 1700. rather heterogeneous portions. But his conceptions of Greek, and, still more, of Roman history, are generally magnificent ; profound in philosophy, with an outline firm and sufficiently exact, never conde- scending to trivial remarks or petty de- tails ; above all, written in that close and nervous style which no one certainly in the French language has ever surpassed. It is evident that Montesquieu in all his writings, but especially in the Grandeur and Decadence des Romains, had the Dis- course of Bossuet before his eyes ; he is more acute, sometimes, and ingenious, and has reflected longer on particular topics of inquiry, but he wants the simple majesty, the comprehensive, eagle-like glance of the illustrious prelate. 49. Though we fell short in England of English tne historical reputation which the hisioricai first part of the century might en- works, title us t o c ] a j mj this period may be reckoned that in which a critical atten- tion to truth, sometimes rather too minute, but always praiseworthy, began to be char- acteristic of our researches into fact. The only book that I shall mention is Burnet's History of the Reforma- tion, written in a better style than those who know Burnet by his later and more negligent work are apt to conceive, and which has the signal merit of having been the first, as far as I remember, which is fortified by a large appendix of documents. This, though frequent in Latin, had not been usual* in the modern languages. It became gradually very frequent and al- most indispensable in historical writings, where the materials had any peculiar ori- ginality. ****** 50. The change in the spirit of litera- ture, and of the public mind in gen- character eral, which had, with gradual and of the nth never-receding steps, been coming century. f orwar ^ j n the seventeenth centu- ty, but especially in the latter part of it, Burnet. has been so frequently pointed out to the readers of this volume, that I shall only quote an observation of Bayle. " I be- lieve," he says, " that the sixteenth cen- tury produced a greater number of learned men than the seventeenth ; and yet the former of these ages was far from being as enlightened as the latter. During the reign of criticism and philology we saw in all Europe many prodigies of erudition. Since the study of the new philosophy and that of living languages has introduced a different taste, we have ceased to behold this yast and deep learning. But, in re- turn, there is diffused through the republic of letters a more subtle understanding and a more exquisite discernment ; men are now less learned, but more able."* The volumes which are now submitted to the public contain sufficient evidence of this intellectual progress both in philosophy and in polite literature. 51. I here terminate a work which, it is hardly necessary to say, has ., , - , j ., J .- J f . Conclusion. furnished the occupation of not very few years, and which, for several reasons, it is not my intention to prose- cute any farther. The length of these vol- umes is already greater than I had antici- pated ; yet I do not perceive much that could have been retrenched without loss to a part, at least, of the literary world. For the approbation which the first of them has received I am grateful ; for the few corrections that have been communicated to me I am not less so ; the errors and de- ficiencies of which I am not specially aware may be numerous ; yet I cannot af- fect to doubt that I have contributed some- thing to the general literature of my coun- try, something to the honourable estima- tion of my own name, and to the inherit- ance of those, if it is for me still to cher- ish that hope, to whom I have to bequeath it. Dictionnaire de Bayle, art. Aconce, note D. INDEX. ABBADIE, M., his treatise on Christianity, ii., 292. Abelard, Peter, era and disciples of, i., 13. Abelard and Eloisa, i., 39, 40. Abernethy, Mr., ii., 301. Abraham, the intended sacrifice of Isaac by, ii., 125. Absalom and Achitophel of Dryden, ii., 378. Sec- ond part by Tate, ib. Abulfaragius, translation of, by Pococke, ii., 432. Abyssinia, Ludolf on, ii., 432. Academy, the French, established by Richelieu, ii., 225, 226. History of, ib. Its objects and con- stitution, 226. Sentiments of, respecting the " Cid" of Corneille, 226, n., 89. Its labours, ib. French Academy of Sciences, 400, 420. Academies of the learned in Italy, i., 117, 129, 242-244,384,411 ; ii ,221,269,420. The Society of Arcadians, i., 328 ; ii., 369. The Royal Society of London, ii., 89, 420, 428. Literary Societies of Germany, 172. Accursius, school of law, i., 55, 322. Acidalms, philologist, i , 248. Aconcio, or Acpntius, " de Stratagematibus Sata- nas," i., 282, ii., 48. His logic, i., 297. Acosta, history of the Indies by, i., 407. Adam and Kve ol Milton, ii , 374, et sey. , relative rights of his offspring, ii., 133. , Melchior, i , 255. Adami, Tobias, his Frodromus Philosophise Instau- ratio, ii., 63 Addison, Joseph, remarks of, ii., 333. Adelard of bath., his Kuclid's Elements, i., 77. Adimari, Alessandro, translator of Pindar, ii., 166. Adrian VI , pontificate of. i., 174. Adriani, cur.tmuator of Guicciardmi's History, i , 409. Adversaria, class of, i., 247 ; ii., 275. /Egypt, history and chronology of, ii., 278. ^Eschylus, ii., 377. By Thoi >as Stanley, ii., 275. Agostmi, his continuation of the " Orlando Innamo- rato," i., 130. Agricola of Saxony, mineralogist, i., 240. , a restorer of learning, i., 75. His erudi- tion, 121, 122. Agrippa, Cornelius, i., 172; ii., 65. Ailly, Peter d', i., 285. Air, atmospheric, ii, 254. Specific gravity of, ib. Mercury used in determining its pressure, ib. Alabaster, his tragedy of Roxana, ii., 186, 187. Alamanni, principles of, i., 195. The sonnets of, 217. Sublimity of his poetry, ib. Severity of his satire, ib. Albano, paintings of, i., 336. Albaten, Arabian geometrician, i., 98. Albertus Magnus, philosophical works of, i., 31, n., 60, 400. Alciati, Andrew, of Milan, restorer of the Roman law, i, 215. His classical revision of obsolete and obscure terms, 215, 321. Alcmous, ii., 300. Alcuin, poems of, i., 26,28. " De Pontificibus Ecc. Kboracensis"of, 28, n. Aldi Neacademia, i., 143. A Id rich, his treatise on logic, ii , 299. Aldrovandus, his Collections on Zoology, i., 399, 401 ; ii., 256. Aldus Manutius, his press, i., 143. The Aldine types, ib. Editions of classics, &c., 151, 176, 177. Academy at Venice, established by, 242. Aleander, Professor of Greek, i., 144. Aleman, Matthew, his " Guzman d'Alfarache," i., 389. Alexander ab Alexandra, his " Geniales Dies," L, 176, 266. , Sir William, earl of Stirling, ii., 180. Alexandrine verse, i., 39. Monotony of, 344; ii., 172, 177. Alfred, king, i., 32. Algebra, science of, i., 234 ; ii., 240, 316. Cubic equations, i., 234. Positive and negative roots, 235 Biquadratic equations, 236. Algebraic lan- guage symbolical, ib. Letters to express indefi- nite quantities, ib. Albert Girard's, ii., 244. Wailis's History of, 245. Discoveries in, i., 391. 392, 394. Alhazen, i., 396. Allen, the Jesuit, i., 286, 310. Almanac for 1457, the first printed, i., 97. Almeloveen, his Lives of the Stephens family, L, 219, n. Alpinus, Prosper, " de Plantis Exoticis," i., 402. Althusius, John, his " Politics," ii., 133, 134. Alva, Duke of, i.,311. Alvarez, Emanuel, grammarian, i., 257. " Amadigi," the (or Atnadis), of Bernardo Tasso, i., 332. Amadis de GanI, romance of, i., 168 ; ii., 235. Amaltei, brothers and Latin poets, i., 356. Amaseo, Komolo, i , 230, 231. Ambrogio, Teseo, Oriental scholar, i., 241. Ambrose of Bergamo, named Bifarius, i , 68. America, discovery of, i., 148. Rights of Spain in South, 324, 325. Writers on this question, 325 Animals of, 400. , North, discoveries in, i., 407. Ammianus Marcellinus, ii., 274. Amyot, Jaques, Plutarch translated by, i., 378. Amyraut, trench Protestant writer, ii , 43. nnn Anabaptists, the, i., 187. Their occupation of the town of Munster, 193. Their tenets, 281 ; ii., 41, 144. Anacreon, ii., 166, 168. Anatomy, early works on, i., 147, 148, 237. Prog- ress of discoveries in, 238, 403, 404 ; ii., 259. OD comparative, 424. Writers on, 429, et pattim. Anaxagoras, philosophy of, li., 64, 74. Andreae, John Valentine, n , 130. Andreini, the " Adamo," and other dramas of, ii., 188. Andres, the Jesuit, i., 321,361; ii , 53. On the use and era of paper, of linen, &c., i., 51, n. CriU cisms of, 232. Andrews, Lancelot, ii., 26, 30. Angelica, of Boiardo, i., 130. Anglo-Saxon poetry, i.. 29. Language, 4I>. Anguillara, Italian translator of Ovid, i., 333. Hu dramas, 359. Animals, Natural History of, ii., 256, 257. " Icone Animalium" of Gesner, i., 399. Description of various, 399, 400; ii., 423,424. Annius, of Viterbo, ii., 23. Anselm, Archbishop, on the existence of a Deity, L, 31, n., 57. 436 INDEX. Antiquaries, Society of, in England, i., 411, 412. Antiquities, on, i., 266, et stq. ; ii., 23. On the Ro- man, i., 176, 177, 266, 268 ; ii., 22. Thesauri of Graevius and Gronovius, on, ii., 277. Potter's Antiquities of Greece, 23, 277. Meursius on Gre- cian, 23. Ecclesiastical, the works of Parker and Godwin, i., 266. Collections of, in Italy, 410. Deceptions practised, ii.,23. Jewish antiquities, 54. Antiquity, veneration for, i., 73, 174 ; ii , 35, 269. Controversy on the comparative merit of, 270. Antonio, Nicolas, the " Bibliotheca Nova" of, i., 181, 264. de Dominis, Archbishop, " de Republic^ Ecclesiastica," ii., 37, n. On the rainbow and solar rays, 255. Apianus, the Cosmography of t i., 241, 242. Apollonius, geometry of, i., 395. Apologues, or Parables of Andrea, ii., 130, n. Aquila, Serafino d', poet, i., 131. Aquinas, Thomas, his authority as a scholastic wri- ter, i., 32. His works, ib., n., 279, 299 ; ii., 119, 123. Arabian physicians, the, i., 237. Their school of medicine, ib. Literary and scientific authorities, 400. Mathematicians, 98. Nights' Entertain- ments, 241. writers early employed cotton paper, i., 50. A MS. version of Hippocrates, ib. Arabic, study of, i., 241 ; ii., 263. Eminent schol- ars, i., 241 ; ii., 265. Arabic lexicon, 265. Arantius, i., 404. On the pulmonary circulation, ii., 260. " Arcadia," Sir Philip Sidney's, i., 381, 390; ii.,270. " Arcadia," the, of Sannazaro, i., 148, 220, 389. Archimedes, i.,395. Inventions of, ii., 240, 242, 243. Aretino, Pietro, i., 226, 333, 378. , Leonardo, surnamed also Bruni, his La- tinity, i., 64. His polished style, 65, 70. Lives of Dante and Petrarch, by, 100. " Argenis," Barclay's, ii., 19, 237. Argens, his Jewish Letters, ii., 417, 418. Argensola, Bartholomew, ii., 167. , Lupercio, ii., 167. Argentier, his medical school, i., 238. Novel prin- ciple asserted by, ib., n. Argonne, d', Benedictine, under the name of Vig- neul Marville, ii., 224, 402, 403, n. Argyropulus, Greek grammarian, i., 93, 94. Arian doctrine, the, i., 195. Arianism in Italy, 195, 196. In England, ii., 288. Ariosto, his Orlando Furioso, i., 166-168, 332, 335, 354. Its delightful episodes, 167. His satires analyzed by Ginguen6, 217. Rivals Horace, 217, n. His Epicurean philosophy and gayety, 217. Comedies of, 225. Comparison with Tasso, 334, 335, 336, 386. With Spenser, 353. Aristarchus, sive de Arte grammatical of G. Vossius, ii., 21. Aristides, version of, i., 248. Aristophanes, by Aldus, i., 128. The " Wasps" of, ii., 392. Aristotle, his philosophy, i., 117, 290, 291,297,298; ii., 60. His physics, i., 397. Metaphysics, ii., 59, 298, 299, 308, 334. Opponents of, i., 292. See Philosophy. His poetics, i., 384; ii., 274. Rules for Greek tragedy, ii., 226. Definition of comedy, 397. History of animals, i., 399. Edi- tions of, ii., 16. See also i., 320. Arminianism, ii., 43, et infrh. Arminians of Holland, i., 279 ; ii., 45, 286. Of Eng- land, 38, 287. Arminius, James, Professor at Leyden, ii., 42. Arnauld, Antoine, French controversial writer, ii., 91,281,284,285. His " Art de Penser,"308, 329. " On true and false Ideas," 317. His objections to the " Meditationes" of Descartes, ii., 94. Arnauld, Angelica, ii , 2S5. Arndt's " True Christianity," ii., 56. Aromatari, botanical writer, ii., 428. Arrebo, Norwegian poet, ii., 174. " Ars magna," by Jerome Cardan, the algebraist, i., 234,235. , of Raymond Lully, i., 171, 172, n. Artedi, works of, i., 401. Ascham, his treatise of the " Schoolmaster, i., 263, 380. His Toxophilus, 232. Asellius, his discovery of the lacteals, ii., 262. Asia, voyages to India, China, &c., i., 406, 407, 408, 409. " Asolani," the, of Bembo. i., 147. Astronomy, treatise of Copernicus on the heavenly bodies, ]., 236, 293; ii., 82. State of the science of, 240. Works of Kepler, 247. Of Tycho Brahe, 247. Atheism, refutation of, ii., 301. Atterbury, Dr., ii., 276. Aubigne', Agrippa d', his " Baron de Faeneste," ii., 239. Aubrey's Manuscripts, ii., 89, n. Augerianus, i., 383. Augsburg, the Confession of, i., 188, 271, 277. Auguis, Recueil des Anciens Poe'tes, by, i., 342. Augurellus, i., 383. Augustin, "de Civitate Dei," ii., 17. His system of divinity, i., 279. The anti-Pelagian writings of, ii., 284. The " Augustines" of Jansenius, ib. Doctrine of, 95, 286, et passim. Controversy on Grace and Free-will, 40. Augustinus, archbishop of Tarragona, i., 266. , on Civil law, i., 321. Aungerville, his library, i., 74. Aunoy, Comtesse d', novels of, ii., 416. Aurispa, John, i , 70. Autos, or spiritual dramas, of Gil Vicente, i., 146. Sacramentales, Spanish, 361. Averani, ii., 381. Averroes, disciples of, i., 33. His doctrines, 117, 291, 292. Ayala, Balthazar, i., 286. On the rights of war, 325. BACON, Lord, his Henry VII., ii., 86,231. Its phil- osophical spirit, 267. His Essays, i., 304 ; ii , 127. Maxims of, 270. His Philosophy, 69-90, 289, 326. Letter to Father Fulgentio, 69, n. Philos- ophy in Medicine, i., 237. On the Advancement of Learning, ii , 70, 73, 75, 87. De Interpretations Naturae, 59, n. De Augmentis Scientiarum, 70, 87, &c. His Instauratio Magna, 70. Divided into Partitiones Scientiarum, ib. Novum Or- ganum, 70, 88. Natural History, 71. Scala In- tellectus, ib. Anticipationes Philosophise, 72. Philosophia secunda, ib Course of studying his works, ib. Nature of the Baconian Induction, 73. His dislike of Aristotle, 74. Fine passage on poetry, 75. Natural theology and metaphys- ics, ib. Final causes, 76. Man, ib. Man in body and mind, ib. Logic, 77. Grammar and rhetoric, ib. Ethics, ib. Politics, ib. Theolo- gy, 78. Desiderata enumerated by him, ib. First book of the Novum Organum, 78, 87. Fallacies and idola, 78. Confounded with idols, ib. Sec- ond book of the Novum Organum, 79. His con- fidence, 80. Limits to our knowledge by sense, 81. Inductive logic, ib. His philosophy found- ed on observation and experiment, 82. Farther summary of his works, 83-90. His prejudice against' mathematics, 88. His wit, 88, 128. His fame, ib. Occasional references to his opinions and authority, i., 172, 297, 410, n.; ii., 161,250, 301, 318, 326. n., 431. Bacon, Roger, i., 60, 77. His " Opus Majus" and inventions, 77. His resemblance to Lord Bacon, ib. Optics by, 397. INDEX. 437 Badius Ascensius, i., 179. Badius, Jodocus, printer, i., 155. Baif, Lazarus, French poet, i., 180, 342, 343, n. Baillet, his opinion of Henry Stephens, i., 250. His " Jugemens des Sgavans," ii., 184, n., 273, 274. His " Life of Descartes," 103, n., 305, n., 402. Baius, his doctrine condemned by Pius V., ii., 284, 285. Controversy raised by, i., 279. Balbi, John, the " Catholicon" of, i., 61. Balde, his " Sylva?," ii., 186. Baldi, his " La Nautica," i., 332. Sonnets of, 328. Balduin, on Roman law, i., 266. Baldus, jurisconsult, i., 55. Baldwin of Wittenberg, ii., 125. Ballads, Spanish, i., 340. German, 344. English and Scottish, 351, 368. Balzac, ii., 89. His critique on Heinsius, 185. His " Letters," 223, 224, 225. His morality and elo- quence, 224. "Apology for Balzac,'' ib- His style, 401, 404. Bandello, novels of, i., 388; ii., 217. Barbaro, Francis, ethical " Dialogues" of, i., 74. Barbeyrac, commentator on Grotius and Puffendorf, ii., 148, 162, 346, 353, 362. Barbier, d'Aucour, his attack on Bonhours' Entre- tiens, ii., 404. On the Turkish Spy, 418, n. Barbour, John, his Scottish poem of The Bruce, i., 46. Barclay, author of " Argenis and Euphormio," ii., 19, 237, 238. , William, " de Regno et Regali Potestate," i., 309 ; ii., 26, 144. Baret or Barrett, John, his Lexicon, i., 263. Bark, Peruvian, ii., 431. Barlaeus, Caspar, Latin poems of, ii., 185, 376, n. Baronius, Cardinal, "Annals of Ecclesiastical His- tory" of, i., 245, 260, 288. Continued by Sponda- nus, ii., 53. Barros, J. de, his " Asia," i., 407. Barrow, Dr. Isaac, Greek professor, ii., 275, 383. His Sermons, 284, 287, 296. Barthius, Gaspar, his " Pornobosco-didascalus," i., 146. His " Adversaria," ii., 18. Barthplin, physician, ii., 262. Bartoli, Jesuit, his writings, ii., 221. Bartolus, jurist, i., 55, 322. Basle, council of, i., 285. Basson, Sebastian, ii., 64. Bathurst discovers vital air, ii., 430. " Battle of the Books," the, ii., 419. Baudius, Dominic, i., 357. Bauhin, John and Gaspar, their works on botany, ii., 258. , Gerard, his " Phytopinax," i , 403. Baxter, William, his Anacreon, ii., 275. His Com- mentary on Latin, ib. , Richard, Treatise on the Grotian doctrines, ii., 35, n. Bayard, le Chevalier, memoirs of, i., 242. Bayle, his critical remarks, i., 260; ii., 89, n. His "Philosophical Commentary on Scripture," 293. "Avis aux Refugies," the, 362. His " Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres," 407, 408. His " Pensees sur la Comete de 1680," 408. His Historical and Critical Dictionary, ib. Charac- ter of his works, 408, 409. His Dictionary, ob- servation of, 434. Beattie, Dr. William, Essay on Truth of, ii., 92, n. Beaumont and Fletcher, their conjunct theatre: The Woman-hater, ii., 207. Corruption of their text, ib. The Maid's Tragedy, ib. Criticism on, ib. Philaster, 208. King and No King, ib. The Elder Brother, ib. The Spanish Curate, a The Custom of the Country, ib. The Loya Subject.ib. Beggar's Bush, 210. The Scornful Lady, ib. Valentinian, ib. Two Noble Kins- men, ib. The Faithful Shepherdess, 183, 206 211. Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, 211. The Knight of the Burning Pestle, ib. Various other of Fletcher's plays, ib. Origin of Fletcher's com- edies, 212. Defects of the plots, 212, 213, n. Sentiments and style, dramatic, 212. Charac- ters, 213. Their tragedies inferior to their com edies, ib. Their female portraitures, ib. Criti- cisms on, 213. Beaumont, Sir John, his " Bosworth Field," ii., 178. Becanus, principles of, ii., 131. Beccari, Agostini, i., 359. Becker, his Physica Subterranea, ii., 421. Beda, his censure of Erasmus, i., 189. Bede, the venerable, i., 27. Bekker, his " Monde enchante," ii., 298. Behinen or Boehm, Jacob, ii , 65. Behn, Mrs., ii., 397, 417. Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, ii., 16, n Bellarmin, Cardinal, a Jesuit, i., 279, n , 284. The chief controversial writer of Rome, 284, 286 ; ii , 279. Replies by his adversaries named "Anti- Bellarmmus," i., 285. His "Answer to James I ," ii., 26. Bellay, French poet, i., 342, 343. Latin poems of, 356. Bellenden, his treatise "de Statu," ii., 131. Bellius, Martin (or Castalio), i., 282. Bello, Francesco, surnamed il Ciecp, i., 131. Bellori, Italian antiquarian writer, ii., 277. Belon, Travels of, Natural History by, i , 400, 402. Beinbus, i., 383 ; ii., 21. Bembo, Pietro, mannerism of, i., 147. The "Aso- lani" of,ib. An imitator of Petrarch, and in Lat- in of Cicero, 216. Has more of art than nature, ib. Beauties and defects of, ib. Tassoni's cen- sure of, for adopting lines from Petrarch, ib. Hi elegance, 148, 174, 231, 384. "Le Prose," by, 232. Latin poems of, 225. Retires from the world to enjoy his library, 231. Benacus, the lake, i., 225. Benedetti, geometrician, i , 396. Benedictines, i, 58. Of St. Maur, the "Histoire litte"raire de la France," by the, 31. 49. Benefices, Sarpi's Treatise on, ii., 26, 27. History of the Council of Trent, 27. Beni, his commentary on the poetics of Aristotle, i, 384 ; ii., 222. Benivieni, poetry of, i., 131. Benserade, French court poet, ii., 371. Bentham, Jeremy, ii., 343. Bentivoglio, Cardinal, his Letters, ii., 220. His Civil Wars of Flanders, 267. Satires of, i., 332. Bentley, Dr. Richard, his epistle to Mill, ii., 276. On the epistles of Phalaris, ib. Benzoni, " in Novi Orbis Historia," i., 402. Berenger of Carpi, his fame as an anatomist,!., 238, ii., 259. Bergerac, Cyrano de, his " Le Pedant joue,"ii., 176. His Romances, 415. Berigard, Claude, his " Circuli Pisani," ii., 64. Berkeley, Bishop, works of, ii., 92, 328, 330. Bermudez, tragedies of, i., 364. Berni, his " Orlando Innamorato," i., 167, 194. His lighter productions, 194. Boiardo's poem of Or- lando, rewritten by, 218. Ludicrous poetry na- med after him, Poesia Bemesca, ib. Bernier's Epitome of Gassendi, ii., 305, 329. Travels, ii., 433. Bernonilli, John, on the Differential calculus, ii.,431. Beroaldo, librarian of the Vatican, i., 148. Berquin, Louis, French martyr, i., 191, n. Bessanon, Cardinal, his " Adversus calummatorem Platonis," i., 94. Bethune, Mr. Drinkwater, his Life of Galileo, n., 249. Beza, "de Haereticis puniendis," i., 282, 287. Hit I ali Testament, 290. Latin poetry of, 356 438 INDEX. Bibbiena, Cardinal, his comedy of " Calandra," i., 146. Bible, the, i., 96, 193, 194; ii., 263, 264, 275. In modern languages prohibited by the pope and burned, i , 413. The Sistine Bible, 290. That by Clement VIII, ib. Protestant Bibles and Testaments, ib. Genevan Bible, ib. Coverdale's Bible, ib. The Bishop's Bible, ib.,; ii., 58. Eng- lish Bible, translated under the authority of James 1 , 58. See Scriptures. Bibliographical works, i., 412. Bibhotheca Universalis, of Gesner, i., 412. Bibliotheque Universelle, of Le Clerc, ii., 286. Bibliotheques, Universelle, Choisie, et Ancienne et Moderne, celebrity of these reviews, ii., 286. , Franchises, of La Crou, and of Ver- dier, i , 387, 412. Biddle, Unitarian writer, ii., 288. Bilson, bishop of Winchester, i., 311, n. Biographic Universelle, the, i., 357, n., et passim. Blackfnore's poems, ii., 380. Blaew, his " Mappemonde," &c., ii., 266. Blank verse, first introduction of, i., 223, 346. Mil- ton's, ii., 374. Of Marlowe, i., 369. Of other authors, 371. Blomfield, Dr. Charles, bishop of London, on the corruption of the Greek language, i., 69, n. Ar- ticle in the Quarterly Review, 178, n. Blondel, controversialist, ii., 43, 53. Blood, circulation of the, ii., 259-262, 430. Boccacio, criticism on his taste and Latin works, i., 62, 230 His " Eclogues," 63. His Novels, 229. His " Genealogia Deorum," 269. His " Decame- rone," 231. His "de Casibus Virorum lllustri- um," 345. Boccalmi, Trajan, ii., 220. His Ragguagli di Par- nasso, 220, 269. Bochart, the " Geographia Sacra" of, ii., 264. His " Hierozoicon," 265. His works on Hebrew, &c., 431. Bodin, John, writings of, i., 289 ; ii., 132, 229. His " Republic," i., 312-320. Comparison of, with Machiavel and Aristotle, 320. With Montesquieu, ib. See 321, n. Bodius, Alexander, i.,358. Bodley, Sir Thomas, founder of the Bodleian Li- brary at Oxford, i , 410; ii., 267. Its catalogue, 268. Its Oriental Manuscripts, 265. Boerhaave, works of, ii , 431. Boetie, Etienne de la, " Le Contr' IJn" of, i., 305. Boethius, his Consolation of Philosophy, i , 25. Boiardo, Matteo Maria, count of Scandinao, i., 130. His Orlando Innamorato reviewed, 130, 167. Boileau, satire of, ii., 236, 237, 37!e of his com dies, ii., 397. Ethics, on, ii., 77, 335, 338. See Philosophy. Euclid, first translations of, i., 77, 234. Theorem o. ii., 242. Editions of, i., 395. Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit," &c., i., 380. Kuridice," a tragedy for music [opera], i., 361. Euripides, i , 366. 367, n ; ii , 374, 3*6, 388. Frenc. translations of, i., 227. [Mistachiiis, Italian anatomist, i., 404. Eustathius of Thessalonica, his use of Romai words, i., 69, n. Eutychius, " Annals of," by Pococke, ii., 432. Evelyn's works, ii , 410. Evremond, M. de St., poetry of, ii., 401. Exchange and currency, ii., 135. Kxperience, on, ii., 106. FABER or Fabre, Antony, celebrated lawyer of Sa- voy, i., 323. , Basilius, merit of his Thesaurus, i., 254. , Stapulensis, a learned Frenchman, i., 151, 188. , Tanaquil or Tanneguy le Fevre, ii., 274. His daughter, Anne le Fevre, ib. Fahre, Peter, his " Agonisticon, sive de re athleti ca," i., 268. " Art de Rhetorique" of, 233. Fabretti.on Roman Antiquities and Inscriptions, ii., 277. Fabricius, George, i., 255; ii., 273. His " Biblio- theca Grseca," 277. -, John, astronomical observations by, n.. 243. , de Aquapendente, on the language of brute animals, ii., 257. His medical discoveries, 259. Fabroni, " Vita; Italorum" of, ii., 243, 277. Fairfax, his " Jerusalem," imitated from Tasso, L, 350. 444 INDEX. Falconieri, his Inscriptiones Athleticae, ii., 277. Falkland, Lord, ii., 38. Fallopius, anatomist, i., 403. Fanaticism, its growth among some of the Reform- ers, i., 187. Fariuacci or Farinaceus, jurist, ii., 141. Farmer's Essay on the Learning of Shakspeare, i., 374, n. Farnaby, Thomas, grammarian, ii., 18. Farquhar's comedies, ii., 398. Fathers, the, religious respect for their works, ii., 29, 30, 31, 35, 37, 50. Doctrine of some of the, 95. Fayette, La, Countess of, novels by, ii., 414. Feltham's Resolves, ii., 128. Fenelon, archbishop of Cambrai, his " Maximes des Saints," ii., 289. On female education, 352. " Dialogues of the Dead" by, 400. Merit of his Telemaque, 416. Format, his discoveries in algebra and geometry, ii., 243, 246, 255. Feme! . a degree of the meridian, how measured by, i., 234. Eminent French physician, 238. Ferrara, Hercules I., Marquis of, i., 130. , Spanish Bible printed at, i., 290. Ferrari, mathematician, i., 234, 236. , his Lexicon Geographicum, ii.. 266. His Syriac Lexicon, 265. Ferrarius, Octavius, ii., 23, 277. Ferreira, Portuguese poet, i., 340. Ferreo, Scipio, i., 234. Ficinus, Marsilius, i., 94, 117. Translator of Plo- tinus, 129. Fiction, on works of, i., 229, 388 ; ii., 233. English novels, i., 391 ; ii., 238. Spanish romance, i., 340 ; ii., 233. Italian, i., 100, 388 ; ii., 217. Field on the Church, ii. , 54. Filelfo, philologist, i., 70. Filicaja, Vicenzo, his " Siege of Vienna," ii., 367. His " Italia mia," a sonnet, ib. Filmer, Sir Robert, his " Patriarcha," ii., 139, 358. Finee, Oronce, i., 234. Fioravanti of Bologna, i., 98. Fiore or Floridus, algebraist, i., 234. Fioretti or Udeno Nisielo, ii., 222, 269. Firenzuola, satirical poet, i., 333. His prose en- chanting, 377. Fischart, German poet, i., 344. Fisher, the Jesuit, Laud's conference with, ii., 30. Fisheries, rights to, ii., 146. Fishes, on, i., 400, 401 ; ii., 423. Flacius Illyricus, " Centuriae Magdeburgenses," chiefly by, i., 278, 288. Flaminio, Italian poet, i., 195. Latin elegies of Flaminius, 225. Flaviq, Biondo, i., 104. Fle'chier, bishop of Nisrnes, ii., 237, 294. Harmony of his diction, 294, 296. Fleming, his lyric poetry, ii., 173. Fletcher, Phineas, " The Purple Island" by, ii., 174. , Giles, his poems, ii., 174. 's " Faithful Sheperdess," ii., 183, 206, 211. See Beaumont and Fletcher. , Andrew, style of, ii., Fleury, Claude, " Ecclesiastical History" by, ii., 281. His dissertations, ib. Florence, Platonic and other academies of, i., 117, 128. Controversy that the Lingua Toscana is properly the Florentine, 232, 243, 333, 385 ; ii., 221. Men of letters of, passim. The Apatisti, &c., of, 269. The Laurentian Library, i., 244. Poets of, ii., 367. Academy del Cimento, 420. The villa of Fiesole, i., 107. Fiudd, Robert, his Mosaic Philosophy, ii., 65. Folengo, Macaronic verse of, i., 333, n. Fontaine, La, fables of, ii., 369, 370, n. Fontenelle, poetry of, ii , 372. Criticisms by, i., 365, 366 ; ii., 383, 386, :i8, 405, 423. Character of his works, 399. His mi logics of academicians, 400. His " Dialogues of the Dead," ib. His " Plurality of Worlds." ib. " History of Ora- cles," 401. On pastoral poetry, 406. Ford, John, critique by Mr. Gi%d on his trage- dies, ii., 216. Forge, La, of Saumur, ii., 306. Fortesque, Sir John, i., 170. Fortunatus, i., 38. Fortunio, on Italian grammar, i., 232. Fosse, La, his " Manlius," ii., 389. Fouquelin, his " Rhetorique Franchise," i , 386. Fourier, M , on algebra, i., 394. Fowler, his writings on Christian Morality, ii., 288. Fracastorms, i., 224, 383. France, poets in the reign of Francis I., i , 220. Of Louis XIV., ii., 170, 369. Latin poets, i., 356, 357; ii., 184,381. Prose writers, passim. His- torians, 267, el passim. Grammarians, i., 233, &c. French language, ii., 226, &c. Academie Frangaise, 228, 399. State of learning, i., 180, 246, 341 ; ii., 381, &c. Royal Library, i.. 410. French drama, 366 ; ii , 192-197, 383-393. French opera, 393. Mysteries and moralities, i., 227. Romance writers, 39 ; ii., 235. Novelists, i., 388. French sermons, ii., 279, 294, 295, 296, et passim. The Gallican Church, 29, 279, 285. Protestants or Huguenots, i., 276, 283, 299, 309 ; ii , 31, 293. Edict of Nantes, i.,283. Its revocation by Louis XIV., ii., 285, 293. "Avis aux Refugies," the, 362. The League, i., 308. French language, its correctness in the reign of Louis XIV., ii., 399. Critical works in, 402. Genius of, ib. Reviews by Peter Bayle and other critics, 407-409. En- tertaining miscellanies named " Ana," 409. The Academy of Sciences of Paris, 420. Its Memoirs, ib. Francis I., king of France, i., 180; ii., 149. of Assisi, St., i., 119. Franciscan order, the, i., 197. Franco, Italian poet, i., 333. Frankfort fair, a mart for books, i., 411, 412. Frederic II., the emperor, i , 68. of Aragon, king of Naples, i., 130. Free-will, on, ii., 40, 101, 323. Frere, Mr., his " War of the Giants, i., 117. Froissart, i., 136. Fuchs, Leonard, his botanical works, i., 240, 402. Furetiere, Dictionnaire de, ii., 402. Roman Bour- geois of, 415. Fust, partner of Gutenberg, in printing, i., 95. Their dispute, 97. Fust, in partnership with Schaeffer, ib. GAGUIN, Robert, i., 133. Galateo of Casa, his treatise on politeness, i., 303. Gale, his notes on lamblichus, ii., 275. His " Court of the Gentiles," 300. Galen, medical theory of, i., 237, 238 ; ii ,259. Edi- tion of, by Andrew of Asola, i., 177. Translations of his works, 182. Galileo, persecution of, i., 236 ; ii., 249. His ele- gance of style, 219. His correspondence, 220. Remarks on Tasso by, 222. On indivisibles, 243. His theory of comets, 247. Discovers the satel- lites of Jupiter, ib. Planetary discoveries by, 248. Maintains the Copernican system, ib " Delia Scienza Mecanica," i., 397 ; ii., 251. Statics or, ib. His Dynamics, ib. On hydrostatics and pneumatics, 253. His telescope, 254. Compar- ison of Lord Bacon with, 86. Various senti- ments and opinions of, i., 167 ; ii , 86, 413. Im- portance of his discoveries to grography, 432. Gallican Church, liberties of the, ii., 27 107. Gallois, M., critic, ii., 407. INDEX. Galluzzi, observations of, i., 413. Gambara, Veronica, i., 332. " Gammar Gurton's Needle," comedy, i., 229, 367. Garcilasso de la Vega, i., 219. His style of ec- logue, 219, 336 ; ii., 167. Gardens, Rapin's poem on, ii., 382. Lord Bacon on, 128. Botanical, 428. Gamier, Robert, tragedies of, i., 366. Garth's " Dispensary," ii., 381. Gascoyne, George, his " Steel Glass," i , 346. His " Supposes," 367. " Jocasta," a tragedy, ib., n. On versification, 387. Gasparin of Barziza, excellent Latin style of, i.. 63, 64, 99. Gassendi, astronomical works and observations of, ii., 241, 251. His Life of Epicurus, 68, 300. His philosophy, 96, 301, 302, 308, n , 329. His logic, 302, 307, 33). His theory of ideas, 303. His physics, ib. Exercitationes Paradoxicae, 68. His " Syntagma Philosophic Epicuri," 69. See also 63, 67. Gataker, Thomas, ii., 54. " Cinnus or Adversaria" by, 279. His Marcus Antoninus, ib. Gauden, Bishop, the " Icon Basilice," ii., 231. Gellibrand, mathematician, ii., 242. Geneva, republic of, Calvin invited by the, i., 193. Servetus burned at, 280. The press flourishes in Switzerland, being mostly suppressed in Italy, 413. . Genius, absence of, in writings of the dark ages, i., 28. Poetic genius, 335. Gennari, his character of Cujacius, i., 321, 322, n. Gensfleisch, i , 95. Gentilis, Albericus, i., 322, 325. On Embassies, 326. On the Rights of War, ib. Geoffrey of Monmouth, i., 41. Geoffry, abbot of St. Alban's, i., 124. Geography, writers on, i., 113, 172, 241, 406-409 ; ii., 266. Progress of geographical discoveries, 413, 432. Geology, science of, ii., 428, 429. Geometry, science of, i., 394 ; ii., 240,315, 317,330. Gerard, his Herbal by Johnson, i., 403 ; ii., 259. Gerbert, his philosophical eminence, i., 28. Gerhard, ii., 53. Devotional songs of, 173. German poetry, specimens of early, i., 29, n., 42. Imaginative spirit of, 220. hymns, i., 197, 221 ; ii., 173. Ballads, i., $44. Qarmany, the Reformation of religion, i., 163, tl srq., 186-198, 255, 271, et passim. Character of the nation influenced by it, 163, 164. Schools of, 108, 181. Philologists of, 245, 254, 255; ii., 366. Metaphysicians of, 331. Modern Latin poets of, 185. Declineof learning in, i., 159; ii., 272. The press, i., 131, 144, 159. Book fairs, 412. The stage, 169. 220, 228, et passim. Literary patrons of, 159. Rise of poetry in, ii., 171. Poets, 372, ft passim. Universities, i., 159. Public libra- ries, 244. Popular dramatic writers of, 169, 220, 228. Protestants of, 187, et seq., 194, 274,279. The press less controlled than in Italy and Spain, 413 Gesner, Conrad, his Pandects, i., 240. His great erudition, 254. His " Mithridates, sive de differ- eutiis linguarum," 254, 406. ' His " Stobaeus," 254. His work on zoology, 399 : ii., 258. His classification of plants, i., 402. Bibliotheca TJniversalis of, 412. Botanical observations by, 425. Gerson, opinion of, ii., 124, 125. Geulinx, metaphysics of, ii., 306. Gifanius, German civilian, i., 322. Gifford, Mr., criticisms of, ii., 205, 206, 216. Gilbert, " On the Magnet," i., 398; ii., 63. Gil Bias, Le Sage's, i., 389 ; ii., 235. Gillius, " de vi et natura animalium," i., 24C. 445 52, 64, 146, n., 123, 225, Ginguene, remarks of, 332, 359, 361, 377, n. Giotto, works of, i., 73. Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio, his " Historia de diis gen- tium," i., 269. Girard, Albert, his " Invention nouvelle en aleebre " ii., 244. Glanvil, Joseph, ii., 298, 299. His " Scepsis scien- tifica," 325, et seq. His " Plus ultra," &c., 326. Glasgow, University of, i., 265, 299. Glass, Philologia Sacra by, ii., 54. Glauber, chymist, ii., 421. God, the eternal law of, disquisition on.ii , 124, 125. Ideas of, by certain metaphysicians, i., 291 ; ii 67, 93, 98, 102, 116, 314, 317, 319, e seq.,322, 324, 332, 338. Attributes of, according to the divines. 336. Godefroy, James, his Theodosian Code, i., 322 ; ii , 366. Godwin, Francis, his "Journey of Gonsalez to the Moon," ii., 239. , Mr., remarks of, i., 348, n. Golden Number, the, i., 271. Golding, poems of, i., 387. Goltzius, Hubert, Flemish engraver, i., 269, 410. Gombauid, French author, ii., 171, 225. Gomberville, his romance of " Polexandre,"ii.,23G. Critiques by, 407, n. Gongora, Luis de, affectation of, ii., 176. His po- etry, 169. His school, ib. Goose, Mother, Tales of, ii., 416. Gothoired, writings of, i., 266. Goujet, criticisms of, i , 233 ; ii., 294, 295, n Govea, civilian, i., 322. Government, patriarchal theory of, ii , 132. Wri- ters on, i., 182, 210, 232 ; ii., 353, 358. Writers against oppressive, i , 304, 306, 307. Origin of commonwealths, 313. Rights of citizens, ib. Na- ture of sovereign power, 314. Despotism and monarchy, ib. Gower's poems, i., 46. Gozzi, Gasparo, plays of, ii., 189, n. (Jraaf, physician, ii., 430. Gracian, Spanish author, ii., 222. Gradenigo, his testimony as to vestiges of Greek leaining in Italy, i., 68. Graecia Illustrata, Vetus, ii., 23. Gravius, collections of, i., 266. Remarks of, 267. Editions of Latin classics by, ii., 272. Thesau- rus antiqnitatum Rornanaruin by, 377. Grammar, remarks on Latin, i., 34, 35. Latin grammars, ii., 273, et passim. Greek, i., 144, 178, 252. et seq , 263, et seq. ; \i ,273, et passim. French, i., 233, et seq. Oriental, 170. Hebrew, 241. English, and various, passim. Lancelot's French, ii., 402. Granada, Las Guerras de," romances, i., 341, 390. " Conquest of," by Graziani, ii., 166. Grant, his Graecae Linguae Spicilegium, i., 263. Grassi, Jesuit, his treatise "de tribus cometis, anno 1619," ii., 247. Graunt's " Bills of Mortality," ii., 364. Gravina, criticisms, &c., of, i., 167, 168,322; n., 366, 369, 381. Gravitation, a general, denied by Descartes, ii , 250. Gray, Mr., his remarks on rhyme, i., 34, n. On the Reformation, 193. Graziani, his Conquest of Granada, ii., 166. Grazzini, surnarred 11 Lasca, i., 333. Greek learning, revival of, i., 65, 177. On Greek tragecV, ii., 374, 377. Greek, a living language until the fall of Constantinople, i., 69. Appoint- ed to be taught at Oxford and Cambridge, &c., 182, 262; ii., 275. Scholars, i., 151, 244, 255. Oil the pronunciation of, 183. Printing of, 144, 150, 151, 264, 265. Editions of classic authors, 128, 150, 151, 179. Grammars and lexicons, 150, 446 INDEX. 178, 250, 252, 263 ; ii., 273. Physicians, the teachers of science and learning, i., 237. Decline of Greek, ii., 14. Early printed book, i., 103, n. Greene, plays by, i , 347, 370, 372, 382 ; ii., 197. Novels by, i., 391. Gregorian calendar, the, i., 270, 271, 396. Gregory I , i., 20, n. IV., Pope, opinions of, i., 34. XIII., Jesuits encouraged by, i., 274. Greek college established by, ib. His calendar, 270, 390. Maronite college founded by, 406. of Tours, i., 34. Gretser, Uom;sh controvertist, ii., 53. Grevin, his Jules Cesar, i., 365. Grew, his botanical writings, ii., 301, 420, 427. Grimani, Cardinal, his library, i., 244. Gringore, Peter, his " Prince des Sots et la Mere Sotte," i., 168, 169. Grocyn, William, i., 133. Grollier, Jean, i., 180. His library, ib. Groningen, College of St. Edward's near, i., 108. Gronovius, James Frederic, critical labours of, ii., 272. , , Greek critic, ii., 272. His " Thesaurus antiquitatum Grascarum," 277. Grotius, his various works, " Ue Jure Belli," &c., &c., i., 324, 326 ; ii., 17, 19, 44, 47, 126, 141, 159, 346, 353, 366. Latin poetry of, 185. His reli- gious sentiments, 32, 54. Controversy thereon, 32-36. Treatise on Ecclesiastical Power of the State, 46. His Annotations on the Old and New Testament, 54. " De Veritate," 58. Groto, Italian dramatist, i., 359 ; ii., 186, see n. Gruchius or Grouchy, his learning, i., 266. " De Comitiis Komanorum," 267. Gruter's Thesaurus Criticus, i., 247, 265 ; ii., 17. The " Corpus Inscriptionum" of, 22. His " Deli- ciae poetarum Gallorum," &c., i.. 356. Gruyer's Essays on Descartes, ii., 91, n. Gryna;us, Simon, translator of Plutarch's Lives, i., 181. His geography, 24 1 , 406. Gryph or Gryphius, tragedies of, ii., 173. Guarini, his " Pastor Fido," i., 360. Guarino, of Verona, i., 64. Guevara, his works much read, i., 414. Guicciardini, his History of Italy, i , 242,409. , his brother Ludovico, ii., 131. Gnidi, Odes of, ii., 165, 367. Guido, imbued with the genius of Tasso, i., 336 ; ii., 416 Guignes, De, History of the Huns by, ii., 432. Guijon, his Latin poetry, ii , 184. Guil!on,his Gnomon, an early work on Greek quan- tity, i., 253. n. Guizot, M., his literary observations, i., 29, n. Gunpowder plot, the, ii., 26. Gunter, on sines and tangents, ii., 242. Gustavus Vasa, king of Sweden, i., 187. Gutenberg, inventor of the art of printing, i., 95. Guther on the pontifical law of Rome, ii., 23. Guyon, Madame, writings of, ii., 289. " Guzman d'Alfarache, of Aleman, i., 389. HABINGTON, his poetry, ii., 182. Haddon, Walter, his excellent Latinity.and " Ora- tions" of, i., 259. Hakewill, George, on the Power and Providence of God, ii., 270. Hakluyt's " Voyages," i., 407 ; ii., 266. Hales, scholastic reputation of, i., 31, n., 32, n. . John, on Schism, ii , 38, 40. Hall, Bishop, his works, ii., 30, n , 125. His " Mun- dus alter et idem," 238. " Art of Divine Medita- tion," 56. His " Contemplations," ib. His Sa- tires, i.,349. Hamilton, Anthony, ii , 409, 415. " Fleurd'Epine," 416. Memoirs of de Grammont by, 433. Hammond, his " Paraphrase and Annotations on the New Testament," ii., 288. Harding, metrical chronicler, i., 170. , the Jesuit, i., 284. Hardy. French dramatist and comedian, ii., 192. Harlequins, Italian, ii., 287, n. Harpe, La, criticisms of, i., 342 ; ii., 236, 296, 372, 389. Harrington, Sir James, his " Oceana," ii., 357. , Sir John, i., 345, n., 350. Harriott, his generalization of algebraic equations, i., 235, 236, 392, 393 ; ii., 103, n. His " Artis analytics praxis," 244. Harrow School, rules by its founder, Mr. Lyon, i., 263. Hartley's metaphysical tenets, ii., 118. Harvey, William, his discovery of the circulation of the blood, i., 239; ii., 259,261. On generation, 262. , Gabriel, i., 350, 387. Ha'uy, ii., 80. Havelok the Dane, metrical romance, i., 4i. Hawes, Stephen, his " Pastime of Pleasure," &c. . i., 169. Hawkins's Ancient Drama, i., 228, 370, n. Heat and cold, antagonist principles, i., 292. Hebrew, highly valued by German literati, i., 241 Books, 162. Study of, 405 ; ii., 263, et. seq. The vowel points, 264. The Mr.soretic punctuation of the Scriptures, ib. The Rabbinical literature, 263, n., 264. Eminent scholars in, i., 405 ; ii., 264. Grammars and lexicons, i., 211, ft seq. Types, 406. Spencer de legibus Hebraoruin, ii., 431. Hector and Andromache, Dryden's criticism on Ho- mer, ii., 411. Hegius, Alexander, i , 109. Heineccius. remarks of, i., 321. Heinsius, Daniel, works of, i., 260 ; ii., 17. Latin elegies, 185. His " Peplus Grscorum epigram- matum," 186. Helden Buch, the, i., 42. Helmorit, Van, medical theories of, ii., 263, 421, 427, 430. Henri III., i., 308, 209, 31 1. His assassination, 310. IV.,i., 283, 286, 308 ; ii., 25, 31, n., 131, 170. Henrietta, duchess of Orleans, ii., 295, n Maria, Queen, ii., 217, 295. Henry IV., Bolingbroke, i., 307. VI., reign of, i , 125, 228. VII. of England, i., 145, 170, 228. VIII., i., 155, 180, 193, 228, 233, 237, 285, 308 ; ii., 138. Herbelot, d', Bibliotheque Orientale of, ii., 432. Herberay, translations of, i., 168. Herbert of Cherbury, Lord, his Henry VIII., ii., 267. " De rehgione Gentilinm," 58, 67. " De veritate," 58, 67. Axioms, 66. Conditions of truth, ib. Instinctive truths, ib. Internal per- ceptions, 67. Notions of natural religion, ib. Gassendi's remarks on Herbert, ib. , George, his " Country Parson," ii., 56. , Sir Henry, master of the revels, ii., 197. , William, earl of Pembroke (Shakspeare's Sonnets dedicated to Mr. W. H.), ii., 179, n., 180. His poems, 182. 's Catalogue, quoted, i., 263, 264, n., 265. Herder, the " Zerstreute Blatter" of, i., 162, n. ; ii., 130. Hermolaus Barbaras, celebrity of, i., 129. Hernando, d'Oviedo, Natural History by, i., 400, 407. Herrera, Spanish poems of, i., 337. Herrick, Robert, poems of, ii., 181, 182. Herschel, Sir John, ii., 79. Hersent or Optatus Gallus, ii., 29. Heywood, his play " The Royal King and Lcyal INDEX Subject," ii., 209. Account of his dramas, i., 371 ; ii., 217. Higclen, Rnnulph Chester, mysteries by, i., 124. Hippocrates. Aphorisms of, Arabic version on linen paper, A.I). 1100,1,50. His system of medicine, by whorn restored, 237. By whom translated, 237, 405. Historians, ecclesiastical, i., 288. Historical and Critical Dictionary of Bayle, ii.,408. " Historie of Grande Amour" by Stephen Hawes, i., 169. History, ii., 75. Writers of, i., 242, 409 ; ii., 266, 267. Classic, i., 304, et passim. Hobiies, Thomas, his philosophy and writings, ii , 126, 233, 2S9, 300, 302, 339, 313, 343, 353. Sum- mary of his works on metaphysical philosophy, 104-119. See his topics stated separately in In- dex. " De Cive" by, 104,355. " Leviathan" by, 104, 10Q, et passim. Political works of, 135-141. His objections to the meditations of Descartes, 94, 95, 'JO. Style of, and the English writers af- ter the Restoration, 410. Hocdeve, English poet, i., 222, 223. HotTmanswaldau, Ger nan poet, ii., 372. Holinshed's Chronicle, i., 232, n. Holland, Lord, i., 338, n., 303, 364 ; ii., 170. , literature, philosophy, and poetry of the Dutch authors, i., 260, 270 ; ii., 17, 173, 185, &c , 272, el passim. Political state of, 357, 362. Homer, comparison of Virgil with, i., 332. Of Ari- osfo with, 166, 167, 163. Of Milton with, n., 373,371. Of Tasso with, i., 333. Translations of, 34 1, n., 350 ; ii., 218, 274. See also i., 113 ; ii., 406, 411, 416. Hooke, Dr., ii., 420. His Micrographia, 422, 427. Hooker, ' Ecclesiastical Polity" of, i., 300. See also 201, 265, 266, 284, 311, 381 ; ii., 45, 124, 138, 360, 36-!, 410. Horace, emendation of the text of, by Lambinus, i., 248 The edition of, by Crnquius, styled the Scholiast. 219 Dacier's, ii.,274. " De Arte po- etica," 370, 3i)0 Odes of, i., 40, 337; ii., 166. Imitators of, 166, 167, et passim. Horrox, scientific discoveries of, ii., 251. Hoschms, Sidonms, ii., 185. Hospital, De 1', Latin poems of, i., 357. Hottinger, Bililiotheca Onentalis of, ii., 431. Hottoman, the " Franco-Gallia" of, i., 305. His " Digest," 321. His " Anti-Tribonianus," 323. Houssuye, Ainelot de la, ii , 357. Howard, Sir Robert, his Observations on Dryden, and tne poet's reply, ii., 411. Howell, James, his " Dodona's Grove," ii., 239, 357. Hudibras, ii., 165, 373, 378. Hudson's Thucydides, ii., 275. Huet, bishop of Avranches, his " Demonstratio Evangeiiea," ii., 292. , Bishop, antagonist of Scaliger, ii., 24, 237. Remarks of, 273. The Index to the Delphm classics, 274. His " Censura Philosophise Can- tesianae," 307. Hughes, works of, i., 371. Human nature, on, ii., 104, et seq., 291, 292. Hume, D*vid, Essays of, ii., 98. Hunnis, William, poems of, i., 345. Hunter, observations of, ii., 301. Hurd, Bishop, his remarks on Shakspeare, ii., 205, n. On Euripides, 386. On Moliere, 389. Huss, John, i., 319. Hutcheson's philosophical works, ii , 343. Hutten, Ulric von, the " Epistolse obscurorum vi- rorum," i , 162, n., 166. Hutton, Dr., quotations from, i., 235. 's Mathematical Dictionary, i., 394. Huygens, mathematician, ii , 419. Hyde, " Religionis Persarum Historia" of, ii., 432. Hydraulics, science of, ii., 253. Hydrostatics and Pneumatics, i., 397, 398 ; ii.,253. Hymns, German, i., 197, 221 ; ii., 173. ICON Basilice, author of the, ii., 231. 317. Origin of, 328. Of sensation, 331. Simple and complex, 333. Innate, 333, 339. Idola and fallacies, ii., 78, 88, n., 422. Imagination, the, ii., 95, 105. Train of, 106. Independents, the, ii., 48. India, Portuguese settlements in, i., 407. Infidelity, progress of, ii., 58. Infinites, theory of, ii., 97. Infinity, Hobbes against, 106. Fnghirami, on Etruscan antiquities, ii., 23. Ingulfus, his History, i., 37. Innocent X , ii., 285. XI., ii., 279, 282. XII., ii., 280. Inquisition, the, i., 162, 273, 384. Bibles and na merous books burned by, 413. Inscriptions, ancient, the memorials of the learni.if of antiquity, i., 68, 177, 410; ii., 22, 278, 421. Insects, General History of, ii., 424. Insulis, Gualterus de, i., 59. Iscanus, Joseph, i., 59. Isidore of Soville, i , 26. Italy, Greek learning in, i ,68, 113. Academies of, 117, 1'29, 242, 291, 384, 411 ; ii., 221, 269. Uni versities in, i., 409 ; ii., 61. Latin poetry of modern Italy and of Europe, i , "25, 383 ; ii., 185. See Latin. The Tuscan dialect, i., 232, 243, 333, 385; ii., 221, 403. Taste, i., 175; ii., 367. It decline, i., 232. Criticism, 232, 330, &c., 383. Eminent sjholars, 177. See the authors, nomi- natim, in Index. Poetry and poets of, 99, 131, 327, 330, 332 ; ii., 163, 367, 375, 376, et passim. Character of poetry, i.,216, &c. Sonnets, splen- did and also tedious, 217. See Sonnets. Prose authors, 100, 377. See them, nominatim. Letter writers, 378, 412. Contrast of Italian and Latin, 230. Modern Latinists, iheir style, 258 ; ii., 20, et passim. Tragedy, i, 226, 3J9 ; ii., 136, 188. See dramatic authors, nominatim. Comedy, i.. 225, 359, et passim. The Opera and Meloilramt 360. Novelle and works of liction, 383; ii.,217 Heterodoxy of certain authors, until persecutions against the Reformation, i., 194, &c. JAMES I , literature and philosophy in his reign, i , 266; ii., 175, 184, 217, 2'28. His " Apology for the Oath of Allegiance," 26. Principles of gov- ernment, 132. His encouragement of the stage, 197. The Anabaptists punished by, i.,23l. The English Bible, ii., 58, 59. Jameson, Mrs., her Essay on the Female Charac- ters of Shakspeare, ii , 205. Jarisensim, rise of, ii., 43. Jansenists, the, and Port Royal Grammarians, i., 252 ; ii., 273. Their controversy with Koine, 284. Writings of Arnauld, ib. History of Jansenism, ib,n. Persecution of the, 285. Their casuistry opposed to that of the Jesuits, 120. Their polite literature, 399. Jansenius, bishop of Ypres, i., 279. His " Augu- tinus," ii., 43, 284. Us condemnation, 284. Jarchi's Commentary on the Pentateuch, i., 114. Jauregni, his translation of the Aminta of Tasso, i , 338, n. Jenkinson, Anthony, his travels in Russia and Per- sia, i., 407. Jens, Zachary, ii., 254. Jesuits, bull of Paul HI. establishing their order, i., 196. Their unpopularity, ii , 29. Their casuisti- cal writings, 120, et seq., 335, 336. Colleges and 448 INDEX. scholastic establishments of the, i., 256, 273, 274. Their learning, 256. Latin poetry of, ii., 26, 381. Their influence, i., 273, 285 ; ii., 131. Satire upon the, 238. "Their corruption of morality, 121. Their missionaries, Roger and Ricci, in China, i., 407; ii., 265. Their colleges in France, 273. Seminary at Rome, i., 274. Writings of Molina and Lessius, 309 ; ii., 284. See also 285, 399. Jewell's " Apology," i., 284. " Defence of the Apology," 266. Jews, their theory of natural law, i., 119 ; ii., 126. The Cabala, i , 119, 162. Cabalistic and Rab- binical authors, ii., 65. Invention of Hebrew vowel points, 264. Their history, i., 305. Their laws, ii., 432. Jobert, his " La Science des Medailles," ii., 278. Jodelle, dramatist and poet, i., 343. Tragedy by, 365. Comedies, ib. Johannes Secundus, i., 225. John Malpaghino or John of Ravenna, i., 63. Johnson, Dr Samuel, his Lives of the Poets, ii., 373, 375, n., 376, 378, 395. His opinion of Cow- ley, 410. See also 129, n. Joinville, De, ancient manuscript letter of, i , 51, n. Jonson, Ben, his " Kvery Man in his Humour," i , 376. Its merit, ib. His minor poetry, ii., 181, 183. His plays, 205. The Alchymist, ib. Vol- pone, or the Fox, 206. The Silent Woman, ib. Pastoral drama of the Sad Shepherd, 181, 183, 206. This drama the nearest approach to the poetry of Shakspeare, 206. His " Discoveries made upon Men and Matter," 232. English Grammar by, 232, 411, n. Jonston, Arthur, his " Delicia? Poetarum Scoto- rum," ii., 186. His " Psalms," ib. , Natural History of Animals by, ii., 257, 424. Jortin's Life of Erasmus, i., 161. Joubert, eminent in medicine, at Montpelier, i., 405. Journal des Savans, ii., 406, 407. Jouvancy. Latin orations of, ii., 273. Jovius, Paulus, "de piscibus Romanis," i., 240. His History, 242. .Tudicium de Stylo Historico, of Scicppius, ii., 20. Jugetnens des Savans, Baillet's, ii., 409. Julian Period, invention of the cycle of the, by Sca- liger, i., 270 ; ii., 24. Julie d'Angennes, ii., 224. " The Garland of Ju- lia," 224, 237. Jungius, his Isagoge, Phytoscopica, ii , 425. Junius, version of Scripture by. i , 290, 405. Jupiter, satellites of, ii., 432. Jurieu, polemical writer, ii., 293, n., 4C8. Jurisprudence, the Civil Law, i., 32, 33, 52 ; ii., 141,354,365. The golden age of, i., 321,322. Opponents of the Roman law, 322. See Law. Justinian Code and Pandects, i , 52 ; ii., 365, 366. KAIMES, Lord, his commentary on Shakspeare, ii., 205. Kastner, i., 77. Passage from, on algebraic discov- ery, 235, n., 393. Kepler, his logarithms, ii., 242. His modern geom- etry, ib. His Stereometria doliorum, ib. His Commentaries on the planet Mars, 247. His dis- coveries in optics, 254. On gravitation, 250. His demonstrations, 413. King, Gregory, ii., 365. Kings, the popes claim the power of deposing, i., 285. Engagements of, to their subjects, ii., 149. Kircher, Athanasius, the Mundus subterraneus of, ii., 428. On China, 432. Knolles, his grammar, i., 264. History of the Turks, ii., 229 Knott, the Jesuit, argument of, ii., 38. Koornhert, Theodore, i., 283 ; ii., 48. Koran, the, by Pagnino, i., 241, 406. Bv Maracct i\, 432. Kyd, his tragedies, i., 371, n. LA BRUVERE, Caracteres de, ii., 348. La Croix du Maine, i., 387, 412. La Croze, M., reviewer, ii., 407. La Fayette, Countess de, her novels, ii., 114. La Fontaine, Fables of, ii., 369, 370. La Forge of Saumur, ii.. 306. La Fosse, his tragedy of Manlius, ii , 389. La Harpe, criticisms of, i., 342 ; ii. , 236, 296, 372, 389, 400, 403. La Mothe le Vayer, "Dialogues," &c., of, ii.,^58, 127, 132, 227. La Noue, political and military discourses of, i., 311. La Placette, his " Essais de Morale," ii., 337, 346 Labbe, Philip, ii., 15, 53. Lacepede, M., i., 401. Laetus, Pomponius, i., 123. Lalemandet, " Decisiones Philosophies" of, ii , 60. Lamb, Charles, " Specimens of Early English Po- ets," i , 369, n. Lambinus, his Horace, i.,249. His Cicero, ib., n. Larni, " Rhetorique or Art de Parler" of, ii., 402. Lancelot, author of the Port Royal Greek Grammar, i , 252 ; ii., 273, 285. His French Grammar, 402, Lancilotti, his " L'hoggidi" or " To-Day," ii., 270. Landino, critic, i., 106. Lanfranc, Archbishop, acquainted with Greek, i., 57, 68. Langius, Rodolph, i., 111. Language, origin of, ii., 107. Unmeaning, 115. Effect of ignorance of, and vice versa, 116. Ori- gin of the French, Spanish, and Italian, i , 33. Works on the French, n., 226, 227, 353. Mod- ern, when rendered fit for poetry, i., 84. Anglo- Saxon, the foundation of the English, 44. Span- ish dialects, 219. Character of the language, ib. Oriental literature, ii., 263, et seq. On ancient and modern, 403. English prose of Dryden, Cow- ley, and others, 409, 410-412. Critical remarks thereon, 410, 411. See Greek, Latin, &c., in this Index. Languet, Hubert, " Vindicis contra tyrannos" of. i., 305, 308 ; ii., 362. Larivey, French comedies by, i., 366. Larroque, M., ii., 363. Lascaris, Constantine, i., 93. His Greek gramma^ 103. , John, i., 148. Not to be confounded with Constantine Lascaris, 149, n. Latin poetry of the dark ages universally jejune, i., 29. Low Latin unfit to express any popular sen- timent, 84. The Ciceronian style, 174, 175. Modern Latin poets, 129, 383; ii., 184, 186, 187. Editions of classics, i., 104, 131, 24-1, 248, 264; ii., 18, 272, 273, et passim. Its vulgar dialect, styled quotidiamis, pedestris, and usualis, i., 34. Clergy preached in, 35. Modern Latin poets, 1 15, 224 ; ii., 185. Comparison of cultivation of, on the Continent and in England, i., 265. Latin style in the fifteenth century, 64. In the six- teenth and seventeenth centuries, 231, 254, 255, 356; ii., 273, 381. Decline of classical learning, i., 255, 259, 261 ; ii., 272. Latimty of the seven- teenth century, 20, 21. Predilection of modern authors for the language, 19. Methods of learn- ing, 351, 352. Latin metres imitated in the mod- ern languages, i., 333, 344, 350. Restrictions on the press, a cause of the use of Latin by men of letters, 414. Latin compared with French and Italian, ii., 403. Various remarks on learning, and the study of the classics. See Learning, et passim. Latini, Brunetto, i., 41. INDEX. 449 Latinus Latinius, his classical eminence, i., 259. Latitudinarians, tenets of the, ii., 40, 287. Laud, Archbishop, ii., 30, 39, 47. His additions to the Bodleian library, 268. Lauder, ii., 186, 376, n. Laura, i., 384. Law, early MSS. books of, on parchment, i., 52. Legal studies facilitated, ib. Unwritten feudal customs reduced into treatises, ib. Roman and civil, handed down in perpetual succession of ages, ib. Codes of Theodosius and Justinian have always been in force, ib. Study of Civil, 32, 33 ; ii., 354. 366. Of nations, i., 322, 324, 325 ; ii., 151, 353, 355, 366. Writers on Roman juris- prudence, 365. The " Corpus Juris Civilis," 3G6. On public law, i, 325. Theory of natural law, 300 ; ii., 143. Writers on jurisprudence, i., 321- 324. Canon law, the, 324 Lawrence, regius professor of Greek, i., 262. Lazarillo de Tormes, by Mendoza, i., 389. lie Bceuf, researches of, i., 34. Le Clerc, John, criticisms of, ii., 274, 275, 285, 298. His commentary on the Old Testament, 286. His Bibliotheque Universelle, &c , ib. Other works of, i., 288 ; ii., 42, 290, 301, 362, 407. His " Parrhasiana," 409. Le Grand, works of, ii., 306. Le Long, Polyglott of, ii., 431. Le Maistre, forensic speeches of, ii., 227, 228, 295. Le Sage, his Gil Bias, i., 389 ; ii., 235. Le Tourneur, dramatist, ii., 218. League, Holy, tenets of the, i.,30S. Satire Menip- pe'e, upon the, 379. Leake, Col. William Martin, his " Morea," i , 69, n. Learning, retrospect of, in the Middle Ages, i., 25. Loss of, on the fall of the Roman Empire of the West, ib. Its rapid decline in the sixth century, ib. The Church an asylum for, 26. Profane learning obnoxious to the Christian priesthood, ib. Their influence in the preservation of, ib. Clerical education revived in the monasteries of Ireland, 27. Classical learning revived at York and in the Anglo-Saxon Church, ib. Cathedral or conventual schools established under Charle- magne, ib. Its progress in the tenth century, 28 Modern languages forming only a colloquial jar- gon, ill conveyed either grace or sentnn the poetry,. 29. Circumstances that led to tlie, revival of, 30. Universities, investigation of Ro- man law, study of pure Latin, ib. In the fifteenth century, 131. Account of the progress of polite learning, arts, and sciences, 261 ; ii., 70, 272, et passim. Decline cf, i., 255, 259, 261 ; ii., 13, et passim. Lebrixa, Spanish commentator, i., 106, 171. Lee, dramatic works of, ii., 396. Leeuwenhoek, anatomist, ii., 430. Lefevre. See Faber. Legislative authority, on, ii., 360, 361. Leibnitz, observations of, i., 171 ; ii., 86, 103, 331. His correspondence with Bossuet on an agree- ment in religion, 282, 283. " On Roman Law,' 365. Preface to that work, i., 297 ; n , 420. Protogaea, 429. Leigh's Critic a Sacra, ii., 54. Leipsic press, the, i., 131. The Leipsic Acts, n., 408. Lemene, Italian poet, ii., 36 Lemery, his Cours de Chymie, ii , 42 Lenses, on, ii., 256. Curves of, ib. Leo Africanus, i., 406. X , the patron of the literati of his age, i., 148, 162, 174, 225, 244. His authority attacked by Luther, 163. Leon, Fra Luis Poncy de, i., 33 Leonard of Pisa, i., 235, 392. Leonicenus, Nicolas, physician, i., 23 Leonine rhymes, i., 59. Lepidus ^medy attributed to, i., 126. Other works of, ib. Lermim.?,, "Hist. Gen. du Droit" by, i., 321, n. L'Estranpe, Sir Roger, ii., 410. Leslie, tr.p " Short Method with the Deists," ii.,292. Lessius, the Jesuit, ii., 284. Leunclavius, his version of Xenophon, i., 248. Levasseur, acquainted with the circulation of the blood, i., 239 ; ii.. 259, n. Levita, F,lias, i., 241. Lexicons, i , 128, &c. See Dictionaries. Leyden, University of, i., 409. The Professors, ii., 265. The Library, i., 410 ; ii., 265, 268, 306. Libanius, copied by Ben Jonson, ii., 206. Liberty, civil, ii., :;59. , natural, ii., 136. Libraries, public, university, and private, i., 61, 106, 174, 244, 410, 411 ; ii., 265, 267, 26*. Library, Royal, founded at Paris by Charles V., I. 61. Liburnio, his Volga ri Eleganzie, i., 232. Licet o, Fortunio, ii , 61. Lightfoot, Biblical works of, ii., 54. Lilius, mathematician, i., 396. Lilly, i , 371. His " Euphues," 380, 382. Limborch, an Arminian divine, ii., 2^6, 292. Linacre, eminent English physician, i., 133, 182,237. Linnaeus, his classification of animals, i., 399 ; ii., 257, 424. His Critica Botanic: Lipsius, Justus, on the Roman military system, i., 268. On Roman antiquil rnceof,248. His style, 256, 259, n. ; ii., 13, 20. He renounces the Protestant creed, i., 283. The " Politica" of, 311. Lisle, De, his map of the world, ii., 432. Lister, Dr., his Synopsis conchy liorum, ii., 424. On Botany, 428. On Geology, 429. LITERATURK OF EUROPE, want of taste in the tenth and succeeding centuries, i., 28. Modern lan- guages, 33, ct p'tsaim. Prioress of philnlo Latin and Greek studies, ^U, 245, 246, 255, 261, et passim. The seventeenth century, ii., 13, 69, 399. Of Italy, 163, 367. Of Fran, throughout the two volumes. Of < 29, ION, 131,220, et passim. History of English literature. 265, &c. ; ii., 174, 197, i. .Sec. Of Holland, L, 200; ii., 17, 17:!, : > icient urc in the seventeenth The revival of letters, and occasional decline of, passim. Its salutary influence on the pubi . considerable under Elizabeth, i., 414. Checked by the prohibition of hooks and presses, 413. Early reviews and their editors, ii., 406-409 SEE NAMES OF LEARNED MEN TH ROUGIIOUT THIS INDEX. Liturgy, Anglican, by Whitaker, i., 2(3.'!. Livy, his History, i., 267. Commentary on, 268. Lobel, the ' Stirpium adversaria" of, i., 402. >-o de, his Amadis de Gaul,i., 168; iL, 834. Loci Communes or theological systems, i., 287. TheolGi! Locke, John, his philosophy, ii., 97, 2^9. 305, n , 317. His - Letter on Toler;- He did not burro-- 'I is ori- gin;,; Human Un- der*' ' Con - duct ofthe ' 3-1'-'- Mer " its of his " , :i49 - Iti de- fects, 350 Ol) - ' 364. :(62. Observations on his style, 412. Lodbroi.'. Jj- ~- Lodge, poems by, i., :!!?, : !~' Logarithms, invention of, ii , 240. 450 INDEX. Logic, the Parisian school of, i., 31. Treatise on, ii., 61, &c. The Aristotelian method,}., 298; ii , 299. Descartes's Logic, 92, 100. Of Gassendi, 302, 304, 307. Hobbes's, 117. Of Jean Silvain Regis, 307. The Port Royal " Art de Periser," 299, 307, 308, 309, 333. Locke's, 328, et. seq. Aconico's " de Methodo," &c., i., 297. Of Ra- mus, 298; ii., 50. Of Bacon, 77, 83, 85. Of Wallis, 299. Logos, the Trinitarian controversy, ii., 289. Lohenstein, imitator of Ovid, ii., 372. London, publishers of literary works in, in the reign of Elizabeth. The press prohibited excepting only in London, Oxford, and Cambridge, i., 413. Longinus, translation by Boileau of, ii., 406. Longolius, Latin scholar, i , 175 ; ii., 21. Longomontanus, scientific writings of, i., 396. Lord's Prayer, the, i., 406. Lotichius, German poet in Latin, i., 356. Louis XIII., ii., 127, 171. XIV., ii., 273, 293. His dispute with Inno- cent XI., 279. His reigri, 357, 382. Poets and literati of his age, 127, 193, 369, 381, 399, 402, et passim. Lovelace, ii., 182, 372. Lower, chirurgical researches of, ii., 430. Loyola, Ignatius, i., 177. Founder of the order, of Jesuits, 196, 274 ; ii., 121. Lucan, his Pharsalia, i., 106; ii., 372, 373, 404. Lucian, ii., 414, 415. Lulli, musical Composer, ii., 393. Lully, Raymond, his new Method of Reasoning, i., 171. Luther, Martin, his thesis as to Indulgences and Purgatory, i., 163. .Popularity of, ib. Account of his tenets, 164. Explanation of his doctrines, 165, &c., 285 ; ii., 41. His writings, i., 165, n., 287. Satire on, 228. Antiriomian extravagances of, 187. His controversy with Erasmus, 190. Their increasing dislike, 191 Life of, 255. His preaching, ii., 55. Confession of Augsburg, i., 188, 271, &c. His character, 197. Not intoler- ant, 281. His hymns, 197. His critical opinions, ii , 263, n. Lutheran principles of the Italian writers, i., 194. Of the Germans, ii., 282. Lutheran Churches, ii., 54, 56. Lutherans. See Reformation. Lycophron, Cassandra of, ii., 170. Lycosthenes, Conrad, i., 412. Lydgate, his poems, i., 170, 222, 223. Lydiat, Chronology of, ii., 24. Lyon, Mr., i., 263. Lyndsay, David, merit of his poems, i., 221. Lyric poetry, i., 332, n. ; ii., 165, 371, tt passim. Lysias, Athenian orator, i., 264. MABILLON, i., 51. Macaronic poetry, i., 333. M'Crie, Dr., History of the Reformation by, i., 195, n., 196, n. M'Cullock, Mr., observations of, ii., 363, n. Machiavel, Nicolas, his writings in political philos- ophy published posthumously, i., 211. His trea- tise of the Prince, 211, 304. He was secretary of government at Florence, 211. He sought the patronage of Julian de' Medici, ib. Probable in- fluences that governed him, ib. His motives,-21 1 , 212. His maxims not so immoral as has been al- leged, 212. Some of them perilous to society, ib. Palliation of the doctrines in his " Prince," ib. His Discourses on Livy, 213. Leading principles of, ib. Permanence, the object of his system of government, ib. Influence of his writings, ib. His History of Florence, its luminous develop- ment, 214. His dramas, 146. His " Mandrago- la" and " Chtia," comedies, 225, 377. His " Bel- phegor," 230. His History, 242. Comparison of Bodin's " Republic" with, 320. Of Baron wild, ii., 128. His taste and diction, i., 377, 414. The " Golden Ass" from Apuleius, 377. Macintosh, Sir James, quoted, ii., 162, 344. Mackenzie, Sir George, Essays of, ii., 413. Madden, Sir Frederic, i., 372, n. Madness, Hobbes on, ii., 115. Mastlin, mathematician, i., 395. Maffei, History of India by, i., 407. Magalotti, letters of, ii., 399. Magdelenet, French lyric poet, ii., 184, n. Magellan, circumnavigator, i., 242, 407. Magic, writers on, ii., 65. Maggi, poems of, ii., 368. Magnen, theories of, ii., 64. Magnetism, medical, ii., 263. , terrestrial, i., 398. Maintenon, Madame de, ii., 387. Mairet, dramatic author, ii., 193. His " Sophoms- be," 196. Maittaire, his Life of Henry Stephens, i., 249, n. Malala, John, Chronicle of, ii., 276. Maldonat, his Commentary on the Evangelists, i., 287. Malherbe, accurate French versifier, ii., 170. His gallantry, ib. Malebranche, ii., 91. His " Traite de la nature et la grace," 285, 286, 306. " Lettres du pere Male- branche," 286. His " Recherche de la VeriteY* 309-316. His style, 309. His character, 31& Compared with Pascal, ib. Malleville, French poet, ii., 171. Mallory's " La Morte d'Arthur," i., 391. Malone's Shakspeare, i., 372, n., 373 ; ii.,205, 410, n. Malpighi, botanical works of, ii., 427, 428. " Mamb-riano," poem of Francesco Bello, i., 131. Man, natural history of, ii., 257, 262. His state, 76, 136, 291 , 339. His soul, 95, 96, 303, 304, 331. (See Philosophy.) Human nature, 291, et passim, Metaphysical inquiry regarding, i., 291 ; ii., 288. See names of metaphysicians in Index. Mancini, Hortense, ii., 401. Mandeville, Sir John, the Travels of, i., 148. Manfredi, his " Semiramis," i., 359. Manley, Mrs , ii., 419, n. Manners, on, ii., 116. Mantuan, Baptista, Latin poet, i, 129. Manuscripts, wilful destruction of, .i., 261, n. At Leyden, ii., 265. In the Bodleian library, ib. Chinese MSS., ib. See also i., 106. Manutius, Aldus, i., 128, 260. See Aldus. , the younger, i., 126. , Paulus [Paolo Manuzio], works of this eminent scholar, i., 175, 180, 248, 256, 258, 378 ; ii., 20. Manzolli, his Zodiacus Vitse, i., 194. Maphseus, i., 115, 258, 383 ; ii., 22. Maps, geographical, a criterion of progress in the science, ii., 266. Early charts, i., 113, 241, 407, 408 ; ii., 432. Marana, John Paul, ii., 418, 419. Maranta on medicinal plants, i., 401. Marbles, sculptures, and bronzes, Arundelian marbles, ii., 23. Marcgraf, his Natural History of Brazil, ii., 256, 257. Marco Polo, Travels of, i., 148, 407. Marculfus, grammatical rules of, i., 35. Mariana, " de Rege," i., 309 ; ii., 13]. History of Spain by, i., 409. Marini, Giovanni Battista, bad taste of his school, ii., 163, 176, 185, 367. His Adone, 164. Story of Psyche, 165. Marlianus on the Topography of ancient Rome, i., 176, 266. His " Fasti consulares," 177. Marlowe, plays of, ii., 197. Song by, i., 347. Hi Hero and Leander," from Mussus, 350. " Tarn- 410. The INDEX. burlaine," 368. Jew of Malta," 369. " Me- phistopheles, 1 ' ib. " Edward II.," ib. Marot, Clement, simplicity of his style, or naivete, i., 220; ii, 171,369. Marracci's Koran, ii., 432. Marriage, on, ii., 146. Mars, the planet, ii., 247. Marsham, Sir John, his " Canon chronicus -lEgyp- tiacus," ii., 278. Marston, satires by, i., 349. Dramatic works of, ii., 218. Martial d'Auvergne, his Vigiles de la mort de Charles VII., i., 122. Manillas, Latin poems of, i., 129, 383. Marvell, Andrew, ii., 378, 380. Mary I. of England, her reign unfavourable to learn- ing, i., 261, 307, 310, 379. , queen of Scots, i., 307, 310, 342. Masius, i., 405. Massa of Venice, anatomist, i., 239. Massinger, Philip, his " Virgin Martyr," ii., 214. General nature of his dramas, ib. His delinea- tions of character, ib. His subjects, 215. Beau- ty of his style, ib. His comic talent, ib. His tra- gedies, ib. His other plays, 216. His character of Sir Giles Overreach, 215, 216. Critique on, 216, 390. Materia Medica, i., 401. Mathematical and Physical Sciences, the, i., 77, 98, 234,391. Mathematical propositions, ii., 124,240. De Augrnentis Scientiarum of Lord Bacon, 70, 87, &c. Mathematics of Descartes, 102, &c. Mathematicians, 419. Matthew Paris, i., 124. Matthix, Preface to his Greek Grammar, i , 252, n. Matthioli, his botanical " Commentaries oa Dios- corides," i.. 240. Maurice, elector of Saxony, i., 278. Maurolycus, geometrician, i., 395. Optics by, 397. Maxims, ii., 348. May, supplement to Lucan by, ii., 187. History of the Parliament by, 231. Maynard, elegance of his French poetry, ii., 171. Ma'yow, Essays of, ii., 422. On Respiration, 430. Mazarin, Cardinal, ii., 393. Mazarin Bible, the, i., 96, 97. Its beauty, 96. Mazochius, his Inscriptions, i., 177. Mazzoni, his treatise de triplici Vita, i., 303, 38 Mechanics, laws of, ii., 251. Of Descartes, 252. Writers on, i., 397. Meckerlin, German poet, ii., 172. Medals, authors on, i., 269 ; ii., 278. Collections of gems and, i., 410. Mede on the Apocalypse, ii., 54. Medici, Cosmo de', i., 94, 385. His rule arbitrary and jealous, 411, 413. , Lorenzo de,' i., 99, 100, 107, 108, 113, 115, 117,239. , house of, i., 106, 360, 402. Their expulsion from Florence, 129. Medicine, revival of therapeutical science, i., 23 The Greeks the best teachers of, ib. Progress towards accurate investigation, 404. Valves of the veins discovered, ii. , 259. The circulation of the blood, 259, 430. Transfusion of the blood, 430 Novel medical theories, 431. Medicis, Mane de, i., 361 ; ii., 170. " Meditations of Descartes," ii., 91, et seq. Objec- tions by Hobbes, Arnaud, &c., to, 94. Megiser, i., 406. Menus, on the Florentine literati, i., 63. His Lile of Traversari, 68. Meigret, Louis, the Orthography of, i., 23 Meiners, Comparison of the Middle Ages by, i., 31, 62, 63, n. His Life of Hutten, 1 62, ii. Meister-singers of Germany, ii., 172. singers of, i , 42, 43. Melanchthon, the Reformer, i , 141, 145, 179 ; jj. ? 55. A promoter of learning, i., 181 ; ii., 60. 'His advice to Luther, i., 188, n. His " Loci Com- munes," 165, n., 190, 287. Character of that work, 193. n. Translation of, ib. His " Moralie Philosophia) epitome," 210 Style of his works, 254. His tenets, 278. His adversaries, ib. Chronicle by, '' Naudeeana," i.,292 ; ii., 58, 61, 409. Naugerius, Latin poet, L, 225. Navarre, Queen of, " Histoire des Amans fortun6s," i., 388. Neander, Micbael, grammarian, i., 254. Erote- mata Ling. Hebraeas of, 405. Newton, Sir Isaac, works of, ii., 86, 255, 422. Hie Principia, 331. Definition of Algebra by, i., 394. The Newtonian system, ii., 251, 419. His dis- coveries in chymistry, 422. Netherlands, persecution of Protestants in the, i., 196. Nicene faith, the, ii., 288. Niceron, le P&re, Biographical works of, i., 174, n., 250, n., 304, n. Nicholas V., a patron of learning, i.,91. Character of, ib. " Letters of indulgence" by, 96, n. Nicole, Essais de Morale, &c., of, ii., 281, 285,308, 337. Niebuhr on the antiquities of Rome, i., 266. His History quoted, ib., n. Nile, the river, i., 408. Nizolius, Marius, lexicographer, L, 176; ii.,21. His principles of philosophy, i., 297, 298, n. Noah, Seven Precepts of the sons of, ii., 126. Nominalists, the, i.,33. Nominalism, its character, 33, 110; ii., 60, 118. Noodt, Gerard, on Usury, ii., 366. Norris, Essay on the Ideal World by, ii., 317. North Sea, the, i., 407. " Nosce Teipsum," poem by Sir John Davies, ii 349 ; ii., 175. INDEX. Nott, Dr., Ins character of the poets Surrey and Wyatt, i., 221, 223. Noue, La, " Discours" of, i., 311. Novels, Italian, i., 229, 388. Spanish, 388. French, 122, 389; ii., 415. Nowell, master of Westminster school, i., 182, 284. IS 7 umismatics, on, i., 269, 410 ; ii., 278. Nunez or Pincianus, i., 180. His Greek grammar, 252. " Nut-brown Maid," the, i., 170. OATH of allegiance, ii., 26. Oaths, on, ii., 121. Promissary, 149. Obedience, passive, i, 308; ii., 46, 131, 133. Re- sistance by subjects unlawful, 144. Ochino, Bernard, i., 195. Ockham, William, i., 3:!, 110, 111 ; ii., 124, 125. Ockland, the Anglorum Praelia by, i., 358. Odyssey, the, ii., 418. CEcolampadius, reformer, i., 151, 164, 188, 191, 255. Olaus Magnus, i., 400. Oldenburg, editor of the Philosophical Transactions, &c., ii., 420. Oldham, satire of, ii., 378, 380. Olearius, his Travels in Russia, ii., 266. Oliva, Perez d', i , 209. Onkelos, Chaldee paraphrase of the Pentateuch by, L, 171. Ophelia, Shakspeare's character of, ii., 210. Opitz, German lyric poet, ii., 172, 173. Oporinus, printer, i , 255. His press prohibited, 4 1 3. Optics, science of, i., 396 ; ii., 102,254,262. Diop- trics, science of, 253, 254. Oratory, Congregation of the, ii., 297. Orfeo, drama by Politian, i., 123. Oriental literature and languages, i , 170, 241, 405 ; ii., 431. Poetry, 168. Orlando Furioso of Ariosto, i., 166, 335. " Orlando Innamorato," the, of Boiardo, i., 130. Its continuation by Agostini, ib. Some account of Berni's poem of, 194. Rewritten by Berm, 218. Domenichi's alteration of, ib. Ornithology, writers on, ii., 256, 423. Ortelius, Theatrum Orbis Terrarum of, i., 408. Orto, Decio da, i., 359. Osborn's Advice to his Son, ii., 130. Osorius, Bishop, his " de Gloria," i., 258. Otway, dramatist, ii., 380. His Venice Preserved, 389, 390. The Orphan, 396. Oughtred, his " Clavis mathematica," ii., 244, n. Overall, Bishop, his Convocation Book, ii., 358. Overbury, Sir Thomas, his " Characters," ii., 232. Ovid, imitated by Milton in his Latin poems, ii., 187, 374. His Metamorphoses, i , 168, 333. See alsoii., 164, 170,372,382,412. O'iedo or Gonzalo Hernandez, his India, i., 242. Oxford, University of, i., 31, 409. It created ii own patrons, 3. Palingemus Stellatus or Mair/.olli, i., 194, 22 - -, his " Zodiacus Vita?," i., 358, 383. Paltavicino, Ferrante, ii , 221. ( Sforza, 11., 222. " Palmerin of Oliva," romance, i., 229, 388. " of England, i., 388. Palmieri, the " Vita Civile" of, i., 100. Palsgrave's French grammar, i., 233. Pancirollus, his " Notitia Dignitiitum," i.,268. Pandolfmi, his moral dialogue, i., 100. Paniizi, Mr., on the Orlando Innamorato, i., 194, n. On the extemporaneous comedy, ii., 189, n. On the " Amadigi" of B. Tasso, i., 332, n. Panvinius, Onuphrius, his learning, i., 267. Da civitate Romana, ib. De Ludis Cu-censibus, 268. Panzer, Annales Typographic!, i., 99. Paper, its invention, i., 50. it superseded the pap- yri, parchments, waxen tablets and style, ib. Dato of linen paper in controversy, ib. Cotton paper preceded that from linen tag, ib. Charters and paper bulls on cotton paper, il>. First used in the Greek empire in the twelfth century for MSS., ib. In Italy in the thirteenth, ib. Among the Saracens it was of remoter antiquity, ib. Called Charta Damascene, being used by Ara- bian literati, ib Linen paper dates from A.D. 1100, ib. Of mixed materials, 51. Not of rapid introduction, 52. Excellence of the linen paper first used for books and printing, ib. Papias, his Latin dictionary, i , 62. His acquaint- ance with Greek classics proved by his Latin ver- sion of some lines of Hesiod, 68. Pappus, editions of, i., 395. Papyri employed for all documents under Charle- magne, i., 50, n. The Egyptian, ii., 271. Paracelsus, his speculative philosophy in medicine described, i., 238 ; ii., 2C2. School of, 1., 405 ; ii., 64, 69, 430. " Paradise of Dainty Devices, the," i., 315. Paradoxes, Hobbes's, ii., 113. Of Sir Thomaa Browne, 129. Paraeus, on the Epistle to the Romans, ii., 134. Parchments, the use of them much superseded by the invention of paper, i , 50. Their expense, ib. Erasure of MSS. thereon, for the sake of new writings, ib. Monuments of learning and record thereby lost, ib. Restoration of some effected, ib. Law-books generally MSS. on, 52. Pare, Ambroise, chirurgical writer, i , 404. Parental authority, ii., 138, H6, 358. Parfre, John, his mystery " Candlemas-Day," i , 227. Puns, University of, its scholastic philosophy, i., 30. Its increase, 31, ISO. First Greek press, 144, 179. Its: repu';e for philological pursuits, 246. The Royal Library, 410. Nominalists of, 111 Parker, Archbishop, i , 410, 412 Parkinson, Ins " Thc-utruin botanicum." ii., 259. Parliament, English, and constitution, ii., 361. Parmenides on heal and cold, i . 2 l .i2. " Parnassus, News from," by Boccalini, ii., 220. Parties in a stat3, i , 308. I'arutM, Paolo, ' Dscorsi politici" of, i., 312. P.is.-.il, his experiments on the Puy de Dome, il., 254. Writi: 1,316. Ilis-Thm 290, 317, 333, ?49. His " Provincial Letters," 290,335. On Miracles, 290. On Geometry, 317. His,, religion,318. His acute obser- vation, 31*, -M'j. Pasquier, i., 165, 36C. His " Recherches de Is Fiance," 386. Passavanti, religious writer, i , 100. Passerat, Latin poet, i . 3.17. l';iions, ihe, 11 , 315, 323. 338. Analysis 01, 113. Pastcn Letters, the, i., 170. Pastoral romance described, i., 147 ; 11.. 236. 1 try, i.- 346, 317, 337 ; n., 371. Dramas, 1., 359 ; -.20(3. PaMoiini, sonnet on Genoa by, n., 368, I'att rno, Ludovico, i Putin, Guv, ii., 58, I- Patrizzi, Francis, i.,26H. His " Discussiones Pen- pateticas," 292. % 454 INDEX. Patru, forensic speeches of, ii., 227, 295, 402. Paul, St.. Epistles of, ii., 288. II., pope, i., 100. III., pope, establishes the Jesuits, i., 196. Convokes the Council of Trent, 197, 276, 285. IV, i., 276, 413. V., i ., 279, a.; ii., 23, 43. His dispute with Venice, 26. Peacock, Mr, definition of algebra by, i., 393, n. Pearson, Bishop, on the Creed, ii, 297. and Casaubon, notes on Diogenes Laertius by, ii., 275. Pecquet, medical observations of, ii., 262. Peele, plays of, i., 370. Peiresc, Nicolas, his learning, ii., 142, 262, n., 271. His travels, 271. His additions to Botany, ib. Scientific discoveries, ib. Literary zeal of, 272. Pelagian controversy, the, ii., 284. The Semi-Pe- lagians, i, 278, 279. Their hypothesis, ii., 41. Pelisson, his History of the French Academy, ii., 171, 225. Pellegrini, Camillo, his controversy with the Acad- emy of Florence,! , 131, n. His poems, 328. His dialogue " II Caraff'a," 385. Pelletier, Algebra of, i, 392. 's "~Art of Poetry," i., 386. Also his ver- sion of Horace, ib, n. Pellican, his religious tenets, i, 161. His Commen- taru Bibliorum, 241. Pembroke, William, Earl of, ii, 179, n., 180, 182. Pennant's British Zoology, i, 401. Pensees diverses sur la comete de 1680, by Bayle, ii, 408. Percy's Reliques of Ancient poetry, i, 352. Peregrino, his writings, ii., 222. Pereira, Gornez, the Margarita Antoniana, i, 293. Periers, Bonaventure des, his " Cymbalum mundi," i, 289, n. Perizomus, philological works of, ii, 22, 273. Perkins, Calvinistic divine, ii , 125. Perotti, Cornucopia, &c, of, i., 115. Medical works of, 182. Perpmianus, Jesuit of Valencia, i, 258. Perrault, Charles, his Parallel of the Ancients and Moderns, ii, 405, 414. Tales by, 416. , Nicolas, his " Morale des Jesuites," ii., 336. Perron, Du, cardinal and archbishop of Sens, ii, 28. His talent and influence, 28, 31, n. " Perroni- ana," 409. Persecution of Protestants, i, 195. In Spain, 196 In the Low Countries, ib. Day of St. Bartholo- mew, 299,311,319. By the two Maries, 307, 345. Persian language, &c., the, i, 406 ; ii, 265, 432. Persons, Jesuit, i, 286, 311. Perspective,, writers on the science of, i , 397. Peruzzi, i , 397. Petavius, chronological works of the Jesuit Petau, i, 270; ii, 24, 278. His Greek, Hebrew, and Latin poetry, 184. His " Dogmata theologica," 53, 288. Peter Cluniacensis, his Treatise against the Jews, i, 51. Explanation of his words " ex rasuris ve- terum pannorum," ib. Peter Lombard, his " Propositions of the Fathers," 1, 31, n. His " Liber Sententiarum," 68. Peter Martyr, his epistles " de rebus Oceanicis," i, 172, 173, n , 195, 400. Petit, Samuel, on the Athenian laws, ii, 24. Petrarch, the first, restorer of letters, i, 44, 62. His Latin style, 62. His poem of Africa, 63. His " Eclogues," ib. His Sonnets and Canzones, 243,330,384. Remarks on his poetry, ii., 221. Imitators of, i, 329, 384. Petty, Sir William, ii.. 365, 407. Peucer, son-in-law of Melanchthon, i , 279. Pezron, his " Antiquite des temps devoilee," ii, 278. Pfeffercom, a converted Jew, i., 162. Pfintzing, Melchior, his poem of " Theuerdanks," i, 221. Phaedrus, Fabulae of, ii, 370. Phalaris, epistles of, ii, 276. Pharsalia, Lucan's, ii, 372, 373, 404. Breboeuf 's, 404. Phavorinus, his Etymologicum Magnum, i, 177. Philip Augustus, king of France, i, 31. II. of Spam, 1, 273, 286, 2S7, 336, 340, 386, 407, 413. III. of Spain, ii, 167. IV. of Spam, ii., 167. Philips, his Theatrum Poetarum, ii, 412. Philo, and the Alexandrean school of philosophy, i, 119. Philology, progress of, i, 244, &c. In Germany, 255 ; ii , 272, &c. See Celebrated Authors in this Index. Philosophers, the modern, i, 291 ; ii, 289,299,305, 306, 307, 318. , the ancient, allusions to, ii, 74, 300, 301. Philosophise elements of Hobbes, ii, 117. Philosophy, the scholastic, i, 30, 32 ; ii, 298. Of Bacon, 1, 297; ii, 59, 289, 299. Of Locke and Bayle, 289. Of Descartes and Gassendi, 239, 298, 299,305, 306, n. See Desrartes. Of Galileo and Kepler, 60. Nizohus's " Principles," i, 297. Of Hobbes, ii, 104-119. Melanchthon's " Philippic Method, "60. Campanula's theory, 61. History of speculative philosophy, i, 290 ; ii, 298. The Aristotelian philosophy, i, 94, 171, 290, 297,299; ii, 29S, 303, 331. The Platonists, i, 94, 117. 119, 129, 295 ; ii, 300. The Peripatetic dialectics, 60. Scholastic and genuine Aristotelians distinguish- ed, i, 291 ; ii, 60. The Epicurean school, 102. Metaphysical writers, 59, 287, 288, 298, el seq., 300, et seq., 302. et seq., 309, et seq. Moral Phi- losophy or Ethics, i, 299 ; ii, 1 19, 335, et seq., 338. Political Philosophy, i, 304 ; ii., 130, 353. Physicians, College of, i, 237. PilMc, lawyer and versifier, i, 343. Piccolomini, Alexander, his Moral Institutions, i., 303. , Anatomiae praelectiones of, i, 404. Picus of Mirandola, i, 119, 121. " Pietra del Paragone" of Trajan Boccalini, ii,220* Pigafetta, i, 407. Pignoria on the Isiac tablet, ii, 23. " Pilgrim's Progress" of John Bunyan, ii, 417. Pinciano's (Spanish) ' Art of Poetry," i, 386. Pindar, ii, 166. Italian translation of, ib. Pinelli, Gian Vincenzio, literary reputation of, i., 411. Pinzon, his voyage with Columbus, i , 400, n. Pirckheimer, epistle of, to Melanchthon, i, 187. n. 188. Pisa, School of, i, 291. Siege of, 409. Pitiscus, mathematician, i, 395. Pius V., bulls of, against Baius, i,279; ii.. 284, 285. Against Queen Elizabeth, i, 286. His rigour against the press, 413. Placette, La, Essais de Morale of, ii, 337, 346. Plants, classification of, ii, 425. Distinction of trees and shrubs, 426. On vegetable physiology, 427. The anatomy of, 427, 428. The sexual sys- tem of, 427. Plato, ii, 75, 95. Platonic philosophy, the, i, 94, 291 ; ii., 300. Platonism, the modern, i, 94, 117, 119, 129, 295, 296 ; ii, 300. Plautus, recovery of his comedies, i, 64 ; ii, 13. The Menoechmi, i, 373; ii., 392. Aululana, 3S9. Playfair, his dissertations, &c, i, 234, n, 398 ; ii., 79, 80, 252. INDEX. Pletho, Gemistus, i., 94. Plotinns, philosophy of, i., 295, n. Plutarch, ii., 128. Translations of, into vulgar Greek in the fourteenth century, i., 69, n. Amy- ot's French, 378. Xy lander's version of, 248. North's, ii., 202. Of singular benefit to Shaks- peare, ib. Dryden's Life of, 410. Pococke, his great erudition, ii., 265, 432. Poetry, rude in the tenth and next ensuing centu- ries, i., 29. Anglo-Saxon, ib. Scandinavian and German, ib. Latin poetry barbarous, ib. Ba- con's observations on, li., 75. French metre and versification, i., 314. Italian poetry, i., 03, 100. 243 ; ii., 221, 270, 367, et passim. Castilian poets, i., 219. French poetry in the reign of Francis 1 , 220. Its metrical structure, ib. Introduction of blank verse, 223. Change in its style, 341. Un- der Louis XIV , ii., 193, 369, t.t seq. Pastoral, i., 147; ii., 236, 371. Epic, i., 333, 335, 339; ii., 372, 373, 405, 412, 416. English poets, i., 344 ; ii., 174. English hexameter verse, i, 350, 351. Philosophical poetry, ii., 175. The metaphysical poets, 176. The narrative and historical poets, 177. Milton, John, i, 131 ; ii., 182. Shakspeare, 179, 198, 206. Ben Jonson, 205, 206. Other foreign and English poets, passim. Dryden's Es- say on Dramatic Poesy, 410, 411. Parallel of Poetry and Painting, 410. Poggio Bracciolini, the first half of the fifteenth century called his age, i., 64. On the ruins of Rome, 92. De varietate fortunse, ib. Poiret, his " Divine ceconomy," ii., 289. Poland, Protestants in, i., 274. The Anti-Trinita- rians, 281. Visited by Servetus, ib. Socinians of, 28 1,290. College at Racow, 281 ; ii., 44. Po- lish version of Scripture, i., 290. Pole, Cardinal, i., 307. Polentone, Secco, i., 123. Politian, his Italian poems, i., 100, 123,231. On the death of Ovid, 129, 383. Miscellanies of, 114, 115. Political literature, ii., 131. Economists, 134, 363. Polo, Gil, 1., 338, 389. Polybius, commentary on his History, i., 268 ; n., 150. Polyglots, various, ii., 263, 261. Of Alcala, i., 171. Of Antwerp, 405. Polyglott Alphabet, 241. Brian Walton's, ii., 431. Pomfret, his " Choice," a poem, ii., 380. Pomponatius, " de ImmortalUate," i., 171. Pompomus Laetus, i., 266. Pontanus, Neapolitan, his works, i , 129, 130. His poem " de hortis Hesperidutn," 239, n. Pool, Matthew, Synopsis Criticorum by, ii., 297. Pope, Alexander, his Correspondence, ii , 225. , Sir Thomas, i., 182, n Port Royal Greek grammar, the, i.,252; ii., 273. Racine's " History of Port Royal," 2^1, n. solution of the convent of, 285. Literati who re- sorted to it, or Messieurs de Port Royal, il> Their logic, or 1'Art de Penser, 299, 307, 308, 309. Their style, 402, 404. Porta, Baptista, i.. 397. , Simon, i , 291. Portal, his "Ilistoire de I'Anatomie," quoted, i., 238, 239, 404 ; ii., 260, 261, 429. Portia Capece, i., 330. Portuguese dramatic works, i., 146. Poets, 21 227 339 The pastoral is the chief style in the soft language of Portugal, 219. Men of Inning in Portugal. 180. Conquests in India bythe, 407. Discoveries in Africa, 113. Lyric poetry of, 13o. Portus, ^Ernilius, i.. 246, 250, 255. Possevm, i., 274, 275, 407. Postal, William, 1,241,406. Potter's Antiquities of Greece, u. f 2(7. His Ly- cophron, 275. Poynet or Ponnet, John, on " Politique Power " i 307. Preaching, style of, before the Reformation, ii., 54. Prejudice, on, ii., 116. Press, the. See Printing. Prevost, Mr., his remark on Identity, ii., Ill, n. Printing, art of: paper its handmaid, i, SO. Inven- tion of, 95. Block-books, ib. Gutenberg's mo- vable characters, ib. First printed Bible, 96. Progress of the art, 95, 98. Peter Sclwffer's en- graved punch, 95. Fust of Mentz, 95, 98. Char- acters of wood, 96, .7. Ulnc Gering introduce* the art into France, 99. Caxton, English print- er, 10. In Italy, by Sweynheim and Pann: rtz, ib. The Greek and Roman classics, first editions of, 99, 144,n., 244, 264. Restrictions on the press at Rome by Paul IV. and Pius V., 413 In Spam by Philip II., ib. In Enaland by Klizabeth and the Star Chamber, ib. The Index Kxpurgatonus of prohibited books, ib. It included Billies in modern languages, ib. Many printers forbid to carry on their profession, ib. Destruction of edi- tions by the Inquisition, ib. Learning and knowl- edge thereby checked, ib. Woodcuts and illus- trations, 1 13. Prisoners and slaves, ii , 155, 156. Pronunciation of Greek and Latin, on the, i., 183. Of modern languages, ii., 403. Property, law of, n., 137, 140, 358, 359. Census o/, i.,319. Prose, elegance of French, admitted, i , 147, n. Account of prose writers, ii., 219, et passim. Eng- lish prose writers : Hobbes, 410. Cuwley, ib. Evelyn, ib. Dryden, ib. Prosody, Latin, i., 38 ; ii., 21. Protestant religion, the, i., 163, 164, 186, 187, 190, 192, 194, 198, 255, 271 ; 11 , 281, 283. See the Reformation. Protestants, their tenets broached by WidifTe and his followers, i., 193. Luther, 187-MH, MM, n Of Spain and the Low Countries, Of Austria and Poland, 274. Of Bohemia and Hungary, 275. The Protestant controversy in France, ii., 281. French Protestant refugees, 293. The Huguenots ol France, i., - ii., 281, 29.J. Religious intolerance, when mani- fested by, i.,281. Decline of Pn>( ( -ManUs- I'lovriHvil poetrv. t'.e. i., li!), rt .v/,365; 11., 168. lag- allied with Latin, i., 35, 30. Prudentius, i., 38. Pryme, the " Histrio-mastix" of, ii , 198. Psalters and liturgies, Greek, used in the Church oflice:s i;: Italy, i., 68. The Psalter (printed in 1457;, 96, 97. See also 170. Psychology, the ideal and sensual, ii., 95, 105, 119. Ptolemv, t lie Cosmography of, i., 113, 148. Puffi-ndorf, Samuel, ii., 89. His " Law of Nature and Nations," 15H, [02,340,344-347,366. Hi " Duties of a Man and a Citizen," 344. Compar- ison of, with Dr. Paley, 347. " Theory of Poli- tics" of, 353. Pulci, Luigi, poems of, i., 100. His Morgante Maggiore," 116, 166; n , Pulteney, botanical observations of, ii., 426. Punishment of crimes, ii., 151. Puibach, German mathematician, his discoveries, , Purchas, the " Pilgrim," a collection Oi voyagea by, n., 2tifi. Puritans, the, i., 281, 2"1. 31H. Putrenham, his " Art of Poesie," 1., 221, 264, 380, Pyirhonism, i,29C, 301 ; u., 92. QUADKIO, Italian critic, i., IOS, 330. (junkers, principles of, ii., 144. Quantity, works on Greek^and Latin, l ., 38, 253, n INDEX. Quarterly Review, articles of the, quoted, i., 340, n. ; ii., 192, n., 375, n. Article of, ascribed to Dr. Blomfield, i., 178, n. Querenghi, Italian author, ii, 185. Quevedo, Spanish satirist, ii., 168. His " Visions," 414. Quietists and Mystics, the, ii., 289, 338. Quillet, Claude, ii., 381. Quinault, dramas of, ii., 389. La Mere Coquette, 392. Operas of, 393. Quintilian, styles colloquial Latin as quotidianus, L, 34. MSS. of, discovered, C4. Quixote, Don, high reputation of this work of fic- tion, ii., 233. New views as to the design of, ib. Probably erroneous, 234. Difference between the two parts of, ib. His library alluded to, i., 389 ; ii., 234. Translations of, 410. RABELAIS, his Pantagruel, i., 230. His influence with the public, 414 ; ii., 419. Racan, French dramatic author, ii., 171, 193. Racine, Jean, his History of Port Royal, ii., 284, n. Tragedies of, 383. His Andromaque, ib. Bri- tannicus, 384. Berenice, 385. Bajazet, ib. Mith- ridate, ib. Iphigenie, 386. Phedre, ib. Esther, 387. Athalie, ib. His female characters, ib. Comparison with Corneille, ib. And with Eurip- ides, 388. Beauty of his style, ib. His comedy of Les Plaideurs, 392. Madame de Sevigne on, 402. Raffaelle d'Urbino, i., 148. Raimondi, John Baptista, i., 406. Rainbow, theory of the, ii., 255. The outer bow, 256. Ramolds, Dr. John, i., 284. Raleigh, Sir Walter, i., 304, 347, 387 ; ii., 129. His History of the World, 230, 410. Rambouillet, Marquis de, Catharine de Vivonne, and her daughter Julie d'Angennes, ii., 224. The Hotel de, a literary coterie, 224, 237, 390, 400, 4 15. Ramiresius de Prado, ii., 18. Ramus, Peter, his Greek grammar, i.,252 ; ii.,273. His logic, i., 298, 299 ; ii., 59, 299. Ramusio, travels edited by, i., 406. Ranke, German historian, i., 245, 360, n. Raphael of Volterra, antiquary, i., 177, 266. Rapheling, his Arabic lexicon, ii., 265. Rapin, Nicolas, Latin poetry of, ii., 184, n. Ex- tolled the disputations of the schools, 298. Imi- tation of Horace by, i., 343. , Rene, merit of his Latin poem on Gardens, ii., 382. On Eloquence and Poetry, 404. His " Parallels of the great men of antiquity," ib. Rawley's Life of Lord Bacon, ii., 69, n , 72. Ray, his Synopsis of Quadrupeds, ii., 423. Historia Plantarum, &c., 425. Geological observations of, 428, 429. Raymond of Toulouse, his letter to Henry III., i., 51. Raymondi, Persic grammar by, ii., 265. Raynouard, M., his " Choix des Poesies dcs Trou- badours," i., 34. On the ProvenQal or Romance language, 34, 36. Realists, disputations of the, i , 33, 110 ; ii., 60. Reason, human, i., 1 18 ; ii., 317, 322, 338. Reasoning, art of, i., Ill; ii., 110. See Logic. False reasoning, 111. Record, Robert, " Whetstone of Wit" by, i., 392. Redi, his philosophy, ii , 220. His sonnets, 368. His ode, " Bacco in Toscana," ib. His corre- spondence, 399. Zoology of, 424. Reformation, the, its rise, i , 163, 307 ; ii., 30. Its tenets, 41. Luther, i., 163. See Luther, Me- lanchthon, and Zwingle. Progress of, 166, 186. Controversies of Catholic and Protestant church- men, ii., 29, &c. Defections to Catholicism, 30, 31. Not favourable toj-learning, i., 165, n., 181. Interference of the civil power with, 186. Con- fession of Augsburg, 188, 271. Controversies of the chief reformers, 189, et seq. Its revolution- ary tendency, 192, 271, 305. Comparison with recent innovations, 192. Dispute between the Swiss reformers and Luther, 1 93. Its progress, 198, 255, 271. The " Reformatio Legum Eccle- siasticarum" under Edward VI., 259. Protest- ants of France, their controversy with the Galli- can Church, ii., 281-283. Church of England divines write against the doctrines of Rome, 283, 284. Reaction in favour of the Church of Rome in Italy and Spain, :., 272, 273,275 ; ii.,30. The Formula Concordias of the Lutheran Churches, i., 279; ii., 36. Church of England, the Thirty- nine Articles, i., 278, 279, n. The High-Church party, ii., 37. Refraction suggested as the cause of prismatic di- vision of colours, ii., 255. Law of, ib. Regiomontanus, i., 98. His treatise on triangles, 234. Regis, Jean Silvain, his " Systeme de la Philoso- phic," ii., 307. Regius, Professor, i., 106; ii., 103. Regriard, dramatic author, i., 366. His Le Joueur, ii., 392. Le Legataire, ib. Les Menechmes, ib. Regnier, satires of, ii., 171. " Rehearsal, the," a satire by the Duke of Bucking- ham, ii., 412. Reid's Essays, ii., 90, 98, 311. Reindeer, the, i., 400. Reinesius, his " Varise Lectiones," ii., 17. Reinold, Prussian tables of, i., 395. Religion, natural, i.. 117 ; ii., 44, 67, 75. Its laws, 338. Influence of reason, i., 118. Inspiration and Scripture, ib. Traditions, 119. Legends of saints, ib. Influence of saints, ib. Doctrines of the Christian, 165, et passim. Vindications of Christianity, 290, 292, 293. Toleration, i., 310 ; ii., 48. Union of religious parties sought by Gro- tius, 35. And by Calixtus, 36. Controversy on Grace and Free-will, 40. See Rome, Reforma tion, Protestants. Remonstrants, the, ii , 42, 286, 287. See Arminians. Renee, duchess of Ferrara, i., 194. Reproduction, animal, ii., 430. " Republic" of Bodin, analysis of, i., 312-320. Republics, on the institutions of, ii , 356, 357, 362. Resende, Garcia de, i., 135. Latin grammar of, 180. Retz, Cardinal de, Memoirs of, ii., 433. Reuchlin, cabalistic philosophy of, i., 132. See n., 145,162. On accent and quantity, 183. See also 122. Revelation, arguments founded on, ii., 339, 340. Revels, master of the, i., 368. Reviews, the first, ii., 406. The Journal des Sa- vans, 406, 407. The Mercure Galant, 407. Bayle's ' Nouvelles de la Republique des Let , tres," 407, 408. Le Clerc's " Bibliotheque Uni verselle," 407 The " Leipsic Acts," 408. Ital ian journals, ib. ' Mercure Savant," ib. Eng lish reviews, ib. Revms, theologian, ii., 95. Rhoeticus, Joachim, mathematician, i., 234, 395. Rheede, his Hortus Indicus Malabancus, ii., 428. Rhenanus, Beatus, i., 188. Rhenish Academy, the, i., 122. Rhodiginus, Coclius, i., 266, 269. Rhbdomana, Laurence, his grammatical works, i., 252. His Life of Luther, 255. Rhyme in Latin, i., 39. Ribeyro, Portuguese pastoral poet, i., 219. Hi " Diana of Montemayor," 220. Richard II., i , 307. 111., time of, i., 228. Richelet, Dictionnaire de, ii., 402. Richelieu, Cardinal, a patron of men of learning, iu INDEX. 22:>, 226. Supports the liberties of the Gallican Church, 29. His letters and writings, 225. See also 89, 281, 284. Richer, his work on the ecclesiastical power, ii., 27, 28, n. Rigault or Rigaltius, French critic, ii., 18. Rinuccini, Ottavio, i., 361. Rivet, Calvinistic writer, ii., 54. Rivinus, his " Res herbaria," ii., 426. Roads, Roman, ii., 23. Robert, king of Naples, a patron of Petrarch, i., 62. Robertson, Dr., remarks of, i., 52, 172. His History of America, 172. Roberval, French mathematician, ii., 243, 253. Robison, ii., 90. Uobortellus, philological work of, i., 253, 266. His controversy with Sigonius, 267, n. Rochefoucault, Due de la, his maxims, ii., 348. Rochester, Earl of, poems of, ii., 378. Rogers, his " Anatomy of the Mind," i., 266. Rojas, Fernando de, Spanish dramatist, i., 146. Rollenhagen, the " Froschmauseler" of, i., 344. Rollock, Hercules, i , 358. Romaic or modern Greek, i , 69. Romance language or Provencal, i., 34, 37, 39, 41, 383. , writers of, Spanish, i., 340, 341 ; ii., 167, 233. French, i., 41 ; ii., 235, 414. Heroic ro- mances, 236, 414. Of chivalry, i., 229, 388. Of Italy, 100. Spanish ballads, 134, 340. English, ii., 417. " Romancero," or collection of Spanish ballads, by Duran, i., 341. Rome. See Latin and Learning. University or gymnasium of, i , 149. Library of the Vatican, 410. Topography of ancient, 266. Poggio on the ruins of, 92. History and antiquities of, 266, et seq. ; ii.," 132. Jurisprudence, i , 322 ; ii., 141, 347, 365, 366, &c. Works of Manutius, Sigonius, Robertellus, and Gruchius respecting, i., 266,267. Cicero, Livy, Dionysius, Gellius, and Pomponius respecting the same, 267. Modern poets ofcii., 369. On the military system of, i., 268. Rome sacked by Bourbon, 174. Sale of Indulgences, &c., attacked by Luther and Zwingle, 163, 164. Church of, states of Europe which disavowed its tenets on the rise of the Reformation, 186, &c. See Reformation. Reaction in favour of Rome, 272. Its causes, 275 ; ii., 30. Temporal supremacy of the popes, i ,285 ; ii., 25. Decline of papal influence, 28, 279. Controversy on papal power, i., 285. Discipline of the clergy, 273, 276. Influence of the Jesuits, 273, 284. Rondelet, his Ichthyology, i., 401. Ronsard, Pierre, poetry of, i.,342 ; ii., 171, 176,371. Roquefort, E'Mt de la Poesie Franchise, i., 40. Rosa, Sal valor, ii., 368. Roscelin, theories of, i., 31, 33, 110. Roscoe, William, Esq., his criticism on poetic prose, i., 147, n. Obligations to, 149, n. His Leo X., 239, n. Roscornmon, Earl of, ii , 380, 381. Rose or Rossseus, " de just4 reipubhcae in reges po- testate," i., 308. Rossi or Erythrtcus, criticisms of, u , 18j. Rota, Bernardino, i., 330. Rothman, geometrician, i., 395. Rotrou, plays of, ii., 193, n. His " Wenceslas," 196. Rousseau, Jean Jacques, ii., 162, 359. Rowley, dramatic works of, ii , 218. Roy, General, his " Military Antiquities, &c., i., Royal Society of London, ii., 420. The Philosoph- ical Transactions of, 420, 422, 427, 428. Ruarus, epistles of, ii., 45. Uubbi, the Parnaso Italiano of, i., 328, 329 ; n , 163. VOL II. 3 M Rubens, Albert, on tho Roman costume, ii., 277. Rucellai, the "Bees" of, an imitation of Virgil't fourth Georgic, i., LM7. Rudfaeck, Olaus, ii., 262. Rueda, Lope de, Spanish plays of, i., 226, 227. Ruel, John, i , 180. His translation of Dioscoridea on Botany, 240. " De naturii stirpium," ib. Ruhnkenius, his praise of Muretus, i., 237. Rumphius, herbarium Amboinense of, ii., 428. Rutgersius, " Varia; Lectiones" of, ii., 17. Ruysch, Dutch physician, ii., 430. Rymer on tragedy, ii., 412. His " Fosdera," ib. SAAVEDRA, ii., 134. Sabinus, George, i., 356. Sacchetti, Italian novelist, i., 100. Sachs, Hans, German dramatic poet, i., 169, 220, 228. Sackville's Induction to the Mirrour of Magistrates, i., 345, 346, 367. His " Gorboduc," 367. Sacy, M. de, French author, ii., 235. Sadler, Sir Ralph, i., 1*3. Sadolet, Cardinal, reputation of. i., 14S, 174, 175 ; ii., 21. Observations of, i., 219, n , 231, n., 242. His strict piety, 276. Saint Kvremond, de, tasteful poetry of, ii., 401. Saint Real, the abbe de, ii., 293, n. Sainte Marthe or Sammarthanus, Latin poet, i., 357 ; ii., 382. His " Padotrophia," i., 357. Sales, St. Francis de, ii., 56. Salfi, references to, ii., 163, 166, 221, 222, 399. Salisbury, John of, i., HO. Sallo, Denis de, ii., 406, 407. Sallust, i., 414. Salmasius, Claudius, erudition of, ii., 18. His ' Plinianre Exercitationes," and other works, 19, 272. De Lingua Hellenistica, 15. Salvator Rosa, satires of, ii., 368. Salviani's " Animalium aquatilium historic," i , 401. Salviati, his attack on Tasso, entitled L'lnl'arinato, i., 386. Salvini, ii., 163. Samaritan Pentateuch, the, ii., 264. Sanchez, Thomas, works of, i., 296 ; : S.inrroft, Archbishop, his "Fur prasdestinatus," ii , 287. .Srinctius, his Grammar, i., 253 ; ii., 273. Sanrlorius, " dc Mrdiciija statica," ii., 263 Sanderson, an English casuist, ii., 125. Sandys's sermons, i., 284. Sannazaro, excellent genius of, the Italian poet, i , 147, 220. Latin poetry of Sannazarius, 2*1, 225, 383 ; ii., 382. " Arcadia" of, i . 117, 220, 389. Sanson, Nicolas, his maps, ii., 4l!2. Santis, De, economist, ii., 135. Santeul, Latin poetry of Santolius, ii., 3*2. S.ipphn, translated by Madame Dacier, ii., 2"/l. - <>i Spain, i , 39. Sarbievus, Casimir, modern Latin poet, u., 184, 185. Sarpi, Father Paul, i., 399. ri. His account of Hie work of Bellarrmn, n , 20, n. His writings, 27 His medical discoveries, 26, n., 25'J. Ii gious tenets, 27. See note. Sarrazin, French pool, ii., 171. Satire, Origin and Progress of, by Dryden, u., 410. Savi"-ny. De, quotations from, i . 5 Savife, Sir Hr.nry, i., 25, n. K[>- itaph by Hemsius on, 260. Censur- on, 2,0; n., 21. " De ememlalionr u-mporiiin ' "I. i . 2 His knowledge ol Ar.il>:>-. jm; : "-,265 Latin poetry of, i , 356. n. ('ri'i.-ii'Tn- 1 v ih- S,- , igers, 293, n.,287, n ; n , INDEX. Scaliger, Julius Caesar, i., 176, 260. " De causis Latins linguae," 1 76. His " Poetica," 382, 383. Scandinavia, early poetry of, i., 29. Scapula, his Abridgment of Stephens's Thesaurus, i., 251. Distich on, ib., n. Opinions on the Lex- icon of, ib., n. " Scarabaeus aquilam quaerit" of Erasmus, i., 157, 158. Scarron, Abbe, the Roman comique of, ii., 415. Scheiner, the Jesuit, optical treatise by, ii., 262. Schaeffer, Peter, his inventions in printing, i.,96. Scheidus, Melissus, ii., 185. Schlegel, FVederic, his opinion that Luther's report of Satanic visions bordered on insanity, i., 198. . , William, his praise of Calderon, ii., 192. His criticisms on Shakspeare, i., 371 ; ii., 205, 211. Schmidt, Erasmus, observations of, i., 285. His Pindar, ii., 16. Scholastic treatises, i., 291. Character of certain, ii., 122, 123. Schools, cathedral and conventual, under Charle- magne and his successors, i., 27, 28, n. State of English schools in the time of Henry VI11., 182. English, institutions and regulations of, 263. Science, state of, i., 234 ; ii., 124, 240. Lord Ba- con's " de augmentis scientiarurn," 70, et seq. Hobbes's chart of human, 113. Institutions for the advancement of, 420. Scioppius, Caspar, controversies of, ii., 19. His philological works, 19, 273. Scot, his " Discovery of Witchcraft," i., 264, 266, 289. of Scotstarvet, Latin elegies of, ii., 186. Scotland, state of classical learning in, i., 183, 265. Latin poets of, ii., 186. Calvinists of, i., 308. Scott, Sir Walter, ii., 378. Scotti, his " Monarchia Solipsorum," ii., 238. Scottish dialect, ancient poems in the, i., 147. Scotus, Duns, barbarous character of his sophistry, i., 262, n ., 291. Krigena, John, his mysticism, i., 28, 110. Scriptures, Holy, first printed Bible, i., 96. Eras- mus's New Testament, 151, 159. Tyndale's New Testament, 193. English Bible under the author- ity of James I., ii., 58. Italian versions, i., 194. The Vulgate, 289. Hebrew, Syriac, and Chal- daic text, 170, 171, 405; ii., 263. The Penta- teuch in Samaritan characters, 264. Masoretic text and vowel points, ib. The Decalogue, 125. Translation of part of, into Greek hexameters, 275. ^Ethiopic New Testament, i., 241. The Hebrew chronology, ii., 278. Expositions of Scripture, i., 287 ; ii., 297. Latin versions and Romish editions, i , 289. Critical histories of, ii., 297, 298. Protestant editions of, i., 290. Poly- glott Bible of Alcala, 171. Versions of, into mod- ern languages, 290. Forty-eight editions of the Bible prohibited by Rome, 413. See also 105, 180, n., 305, 307 ; ii., 429. Scucleri, Mademoiselle de, her romances, ii., 236, 237, 372, 414. Seba, Adeodatus, i , 356. Sebonde, Raimond de, i., 301. Secundus, Latin poems of, i., 357. Sedano, his Parnaso Espanol, i., 337 ; ii., 167. Segneri, Paolo, ii., 206, n , 399. Segrais, pastoral poetry of, ii., 372. His novels, 415. " Segraisiana," &c., 409, 412. Seguier, President, library of, ii., 268. Seicentisti, writers of the sixteenth century, ii., 163. Selden, his treatise " de J'ue naturali juxta He- braeos," ii., 125, 126, 264. His Table-Talk, 129. His controversy on fisheries, the Mare liberum sive clausum, 146. Selden's " Arundelian Marbles," ii., 22. Hia Ta- ble-talk, 54, n. Self-defence, ii., 145. Seneca, i., 365, 366, 414 , ii., 127, 12S. Sensation, Hobbes's theory of, ii., 105. Sensibility, Universal, theory of Campanella,it.,62. Sergardi, satire of, ii., 381. Serlio, i., 397. Serra, Antonio, ii., 134. Servetus, tenets and works of, i., 195. Put to death at Geneva, 280, 281 ; ii., 48. Account of his " Christianismi Restitutio," i., 280, n. ; ii. 259, 260, n. Seven Champions of Christendom, by Johnson, i , 391. Sevigne, Madame de, Letters of, ii., 401. Her tal ent, ib. Want of sensibility, 401, n., 402, n. Colloquial style of, 409. Shadwell's plays, immoral, ii., 397, 398. Shakspeare, William, his poerns, " Venus and Ado- nis," i., 348, 372. " Lucrece," 348. His life and early plays, 372, & c. Few obliterations by Shaks- peare, nor any by Lope de Vega, 361. His son- nets, ii., 179. His plays: Twelfth Night, 198. Much Ado about Nothing, ib. Merry Wives of Windsor. 198,391. Measure for Measure, i., 368, 388 ; ii., 199. King Lear, 200. Timon of Athens, ib. Pericles, i., 372, n. ; ii., 201. The Historical plays, i., 375. Julius Caesar, ii., 202. Antony and Cleopatra, ib. Coriolanus, ib. Richard II. ,203. His other plays, 201, 202, 203, 204, 210. Henry VI. whence taken, i., 369, 372. Comedy of Er- rors, 372 ; ii., 392. Midsummer Night's Dream, i., 373. Two Gentlemen of Verona, ib. Love's Labour Lost, ib. Taming of the Shrew, ib, Romeo and Juliet, 374. Merchant of Venice, 376 ; ii , 63, 395 As You Like it, i., 376. His retirement and death, ii., 202. Greatness of his genius, i., 304 ; ii., 203. His judgment, 203. His obscurity of style, 204. His popularity, ib. Crit- ics on his dramas, ib. Dryden's remarks on, 204, n., 214, n. See also i., 369, n., 371, 382, 388 ; ii.. 385, 386. Sharrock, " de officiis," &c., ii., 337, 427. Shirley, his comedy of "The Gamesters," ii., 217, 396. Sibilet, Thomas, the " Art poetique" of, i., 233. His Iphigenia of Euripides, 227. Sidney, Sir Philip, i , 326, 368. His " Arcadia," 381, 390 ; ii., 270. " Defence of Poesie," i., 347, 381, 387. Poems of, 348, n ; ii., 410. , Algernon, his Discourses on Government, ii., 358. ' Siena, the Rozzi of, i., 411. Sidonius, observations of, i., 34. Sigonius, works of, i., 177, 253. " De consola- tione," 259. On the Athenian polity, 268. On Roman antiquity, 266. " De jure civium Roma- norum" and " de jure Italic," 267. Silvester's translation of the Creation, or La Se- maine, by Du Bartas, i., 343. Poem ascribed to, 348. Simon, le pere, ii., 290, 297, 431. Sionita, Hebraist, ii., 264, 265. Sirmond, historian, ii., 53. Sismondi, criticisms of, ii., 192, 233. Sixtus V., i., 259, 290, 406, 410. The Sistine Bible, 290. Skelton's rhymes, i., 170, 228. Smetius, Martin, ii., 22. Smiglecius, logician, ii., 299. Smith, professor at Cambridge, i., 183. , Adam, ii., 160. Snell, Willibrcd, his Cyclometric is, ii., 244. Oo refraction, 255. Socir.ian heresy, i., 195, 281. The Socinians in England, 281 ; ii., 288. Socinus, Laelius, i., 195, 281. , Faustus, i., 281 ; ii., 44. INDEX. 459 Solids, the ratio of, ii., 243. Soliuus, his " Polyhistor," ii., 19. Solis, Antonio de, " Conquest of Mexico" by, ii 433. Solon, ii., 145. Sonnets, Italian, i., 328, 329, 330, n., 331, n. ; ii., 176, 367, 308. French, i., 344. Of Milton, ii., 1S4. Of Shakspeare, 179. Of Drummond of Hawthornclen, 180. Of the Earl of Stirling, ib. Construction of, 181, n. Sophocles, ii., 374, 377, 416. Sorbonne, the, i , 133, 290 ; ii., 285, 298. Sole, Peter, confessor to Charles V., i., 198, 279, n. , Barahona de, i., 338. , Dominic, " de justitia," i., 299, 325. Soul, the, ii., 96, 303, 304, 331. " Soul's Errand," the, early poem, i., 348. South, Dr., sermons of, ii., 287, 297. Southampton, Lord, friend of Shakspeare, i., 372. Southern, his Fatal Discovery, ii., 390. Oroonoko, ib. Southey, Mr., his edition of Hawes, i., 169. Re- marks of, 339, n. Southwell, Robert, the Jesuit, poems of, i., 348. Spain, dramatic productions of, i , 146,226,301 ; ii., 189. Poets of, i., 135, 2 18, 336 ; ii., 167. Defects of Spanish poetry, 168. Castilian poetry, i., 337, 338. Epic poets, 339. Persecution for religion in, 196. Prose writers of, ii., 222. Cervantes, 233. Library of the Escurial palace, i., 410, n. ; ii.,265. Of Alcala and Salamanca, i ,410. The- ologians and editors of Scripture in, 171. Loyola and the Jesuits of, 274. Philologists and literati of, 180, 231, 232. Metaphysicians of, ii., 60. Philip II. and the Inquisition, i., 273, 286, 287, 336. Prohibited books, 413. See also 105 ; ii., 403. Sovereign and sovereign power, the, ii., 137, 144. Sparmeim, Ezekiel, ii., 273, 277, 278. " Speculum humans salvationis," the, i., 95. Spec, German poet, ii., 172, Spencer, de Legibus Hebraeorum, ii., 431. Spener, writings of, ii., 289. Spenser, Edmund, his school of poetry, i , 166; ii , 174, 175. His " Shepherd's Kalendar," i., 316. His" Epithalamium,"348. The" Faery Queen," 352-355. His style, 353, 354. His allegories, 354. Compared with A riosto, 353. .His political works, 382. Sperone Speroni, his tragedy of Canace, i., 226,231. Spiegel, Dutch poet, his works, ii., 173. Spinosa, i., 292. The " Tractatus theologico po- liticus" of, ii., 290. Ethics or Moral System of, 318, 321, 323, 324, 337. Metaphysics of, 319. " De Deo" by, 319-321. His character, &c., 324. Treatise on Politics by, 355. Of a Monarchy, 350. Spiritual dramas, i., 146. Sprengel, medical remarks of, ii.,260, 263, 425, 431. St. Vincent, Gregory, geometry of, ii , 211. Stae'l, Madame de, her Connne, i.,65, n. Observa- tions of, on Komeo and Juliet, 374. Stampa, Gaspara, i., 330. Anasilla, 331. Stanley, Thomas, his " History of Ancient Philoso- phy," ii., 275, 300. His edition of ^Eschylus, 275. Star-Chamber, the, i., 413. Stationer's Company founded in 1555, i., 413. Statius Achilles or Estaco, i., 249. , Thebaid of, i., 383 ; ii., 373. Statistics, writers on, ii., 364. Statistical topogra- phy, 131. Steele, his Conscious Lovers, ii., 398, n. Steevens, commentator on Shakspeare, i., 369, n., 372, n. ; ii , 179, 205. Stephens, Henry, his erudition, i., 249. His press celebrated, ib. Life of, by Maittaire, ib., n. By Almeloveen and other biographers, ib., n. His Thesaurus* Linguaj Latina;, 179, 250. His own testimony on various lexicons 178,250, n. Scap- ula's abridgment of the Thesaurus of, 251. Dies in poverty, ib. His philological works, 256, 386. Epigrams, 356. Forbid to print, 413. Various observations of, 179, n. Stephens, Robert, the Novum Testamentum Grx- cum, &c., &c., edited by, i , 251, n., 289 ; u., 21. Stevinus, Simon, his Statics, i., :;<)7. Stewart, Dugald, metaphysical works of, i., 298, 312; ii., 75, 91, n., 97, 93, 104, 110, n , 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 329, 330, 332, 350. et passim. Stifelius, Michael, i , 3U2 ; u., 240 Still, John, i., 229, 307. Stillingfleet, polemical writings of, ii ,284,287 297 332. Stirling, Earl of, sonnets of, ii., 180. His poem of " Domesday," ib., n. Stockwood, John, his " Progyrnnasma Scholasti- cum," i , 264, n. Strada, Samianus, ii., 19. The " Infamia Fainiani" of Scioppius, 20. His " Prolusiones Academi- cae," 22. Strigelius, Loci Theologici of, i , 2-7. Strozzi, poem on chocolate by, ii , 381. Strype, John, his Life of Smith, i , 183, n. Re- marks of, 307. Sturm, John, his treatise on Education, i, 181,183. Snard, remarks of, i., 360, n. Suarez of Granada, his treatise "de Legibus," ii., 122. Titles of his ten books, ib. His perpetual quotations, 123. His Metaphysical Disputations, 60. , his theory of government, ii., 132. His work of laws, 133, 141. Suckling, Sir John, poetry of, ii., 182. Suidas, proverb quoted from, i., 114. His lexicon, 128. Sun, spots of the, discovered by Harriott, Fabricius, and Schemer, ii., 248. Its revolution round it axis, ib. Supremacy over the Church, question of, ii., 45, tt seq. Remarks on regal supremacy, 47. Surrey, Earl of, his style of poetry described, i., 221. The introducer of blank verse, 223. Swammerdam, naturalist, ii., 4'21. On Insects, ib. Swift, Dean, ii., 415. His "Tale of a Tub," i., 230; li.,411. Switzerland, the Reformation begun by Zwingle at Xiinch. i., 10. Doctrines of the Protestants of, 280. Theologians of, 285. Sydenham, Dr., n., 431. Sylburgius, his Greek grammar, i , 252. His Aris- totle and Dionysius, 254. Sylvius, Dutch physician, ii , 25!), 430. " Syntagma Plulosophicuin" of Gassendi, ii., 302, 305, K2!). Syphon, power of the. ii., 254. Syriac version of the Bible, ii., 265. The Maronita College of Mount Libanus, ib. TACITUS, his " Annals," i., 149,414. Lipsius' tionof, 248. Savile's translation o aflfc Com- mentary on, ii., 357. Davanzati's translation of, i., 378. Talmud, the study of the, ii., 2t'.l. Talon, Otner, " Institutiones Oratorios" of. i , 386. Tansillo, Italian poet, i , 329. His La lialia." ib. Tarlagha, Nicolas, his solution ol cubic equations in algebra, i., 234, 391. His inrchmii: Tasso, Bernardo, his " Amadigi," i , 332. Celebra- ted sonnet by, ib., n. , Torquato, the " Giusalemme Liberata of, i , 333, et sea., 385, 3SC, ; ii , 373. Comparison of, with Homer and Virgil, i., 334, 335. And with A riosto, 334, 335, 385, 3-w. Excellence of his style, 334, 377. His conceits, 3 3. I. Defect* of the poem, ib. His peculiar genius, ib. Tha 460 INDEX. " Aminta" of, 359. His " Torrismond," a trage- dy, 359. Tassoni, his observations on Petrarch, &c., ii.,221. " Secchia Rapita" of, 165, 270, 371. Tauler's sermons, German, ii., 54. See also 64. Taurellus, Nicholas, his " Alpes Caesae," i., 291, 292, n. Tavernier, his travels in the Fast, n., 433. Taylor, Jeremy, ii , 39, 42. His " Dissuasive from Popery," 284, 297. Sermons of, 55. Devotional writings of, 56. His" Ductor dubitantium," 336, 340,344. Its character and defects, 336. His " Liberty of Prophesying," 48. Boldness of his doctrine, 49. His defence of toleration, 51. Ef- fect of his treatise, 52. Its defects, ib. His De- fence of Episcopacy, 53, 410. , Brook, Contemplatio Philosophica of, ii., 94, n. Telemachus, Fenelon's, ii., 416. Telescope, invention of the, ii., 254. Dutch or spying-glasses, 255. Telesio, Bernard, i., 292 ; ii., 61, 69. Temple, Sir William, ii., 276, 412. His defence of Antiquity, 414. Tennemann on the origin of modern philosophy, i., 31, n. Tepel, his history of the Cartesian philosophy, ii., 306, n. Terence, his comedies printed as verse, i , 151. Edi- tions of, ii., 17. Testi, imitator of Horace, ii., 166. Teutonic languages, the, i., 84. Theatre, i., 125. The French stage, 365, n., &c. The early English drama, 229, 367, &c. See also Italian, French, and English dramatic wri- ters, nominatim. Theatres in Paris, 366. Thea- tres, London, 368 ; ii., 197, 198. Closed by the Parliament, 198. Extant English Mysteries, i., 124. See Drama. Theobald, commentator on Shakspeare, ii., 204. Theodore, Archbishop, i., 27. Theodosius, Code of the Emperor, i., 52 ; ri , 366. Theocritus, i., 128, 346, 347, 360. Theologia Moralis of Escobar, ii., 122. Theological literature, History of, i., 271 ; ii., 25, 279, 294, 296. Change in the character of, 289. Expositions in theology, i., 287 ; ii., 297. Theology, system of, i., 30 ; ii., 78. Public schools of, in Italy, i., 33. Controversial, 266, 286. Scho- lastic method of, 286. Theophrastus, i , 399. Lectures by Duport on, ii., 275. His Characters. 348. , Dioscoricles, and other ancient wri- ters on Botany, i., 239, 240, 399. Theosophists, ii., 64. Theresa, St., mysticism of, ii., 56. Thermometer, the, ii., 422. Thibault, king of Navarre, Troubadour, i., 40. Thomists, the, i., 279, 291. See Aquinas. Thomson, Dr., ii., 425. Thouars, M. du Petit, i., 403. Thuarius, M. de Thou, ii., 20, 268. Thucydides, editions of, i., 181, 245 ; ii., 275. Tibaldeo, Italian poet, i., 131. Tillotson, Archbishop, ii., 40, 287, 288. His ser- mons, 44, n., 297. Tiedemann, remarks of, i., 31, n. Tintoret, paintings of, i., 336. Tiraboschi quoted, i., 51, 65, 177, 259 ; ii., 219, 221, el passim. " Titus Andronicus" not a play of Shakspeare's, i., 372. Toleration of religions, i., 310 ; ii., 48, 51. Toletus, the Jesuit, his " Summa casuum consci- entias," ii., 122. Tolomei, Claudio, i., 329, 333. Tonelli, his notes on Poggio, i., 64, n. Torelli, his tragedy of Merope, i., 359. Torrentius, his Horace, ii , 17 Torricelli, high merit ot, 11 , 220. Hifl hydraulics, 253. Tortus, Matthew, ii., 26. Tostatus, Alfonsus, i., 105. Tottel's Miscellanies, i., 221, 344. Tournefort, his Elemens de la B )tanique, ii., 425, 426. Toussain, eminent scholar, i., 180. Toutain, his " Agamemnon," from Seneca, i., 365. Tragedy, Italian, i , 226, 359 ; ii., 186, 188. Span- ish, i., 363. French, 365 ; ii., 193, 383, et seq. English, 200, et seq. Ancient Greek, 374, 377, et passim. Rymer on Tragedy, 412. Criticisms on certain tragedies, ib. See Drama, and names of dramatic authors. Translating, Dryden on the art of, ii., 412. Transubstantiation, controversy on, i., 30. Travels, early writers of, i., 148. Later writers of, ii., 433. Treaties, public, ii , 149, 150, 157. Truces and con- ventions, 158. Tremellius, i , 290, 405. Trent, the Council of, i., 197, 276, 277, n., 279,285, 289, 413; ii., 27. Trinitarian controversy, the, i , 280 ; ii., 288. Triqnero, Spanish dramatist, i., 303. Trissino, principles of his " Italia Liberata," i., 194. His epic poem insipid, and the origin of blank verse, 218. Tristan, the " Marianne" of, ii., 196. Trithemius, " Annales Hirsargienses" of, i., 95. Troubadours and Provencal poets, i., 39, 40. " Troye, Recueil des Histoires de" by Caxton, i., 99. Truth, intuitive, ii., 100. Turamini, " de legibus," i., 324. Turberville, poems of, i., 348. Turenne, Marshal, ii., 281, 296. " Turkish Spy," the, ii:, 417. Turks, History of the, ii., 229. The Turkish lan- guage, 265. Turnebus.i., 180. His translations of Greek class- ics into Latin, 246. His "Adversaria," ib. Mon- taigne's character of, ib. His reputation, 250. His " Ethics of Aristotle," 254. Turner, Dr.,*is New Herbal,!., 401. His"Avium praecipuarum historia," 240. Turpin, romance of " Charlemagne" by, i., 130. Turrecremata, Joannes de, his Explanatio in psal- terium, i., 99. Tycho Brahe, his Mundane System, i., 369, et seq. His discovery as to the path of comets, 396 ; ii., 247. Tyndale's, the first English version of the New Testament, i., 193. Tyrwhitt's observations on Chaucer, i., 223. Twining on the Poetics of Aristotle, i., 384. UBALDI-, Guido, i , 397. Udal, Nicholas, i., 229. His comedy of " Ralp> Roister Doister," 229, 367. Understanding, Malebranche of the Esprit pur, or ii , 313. Locke's Essay, 305, 327. Unitarians, Polish and German, ii.. 288. Universal character, on a, ii., 327. ideas, question of the reality of, i , 31 How formed, ii., 322. Universities: origin of that of Paris, i., 30. Its succession of early professors, 31. Collegiate foundations not derived from the Saracens, 32. Cordova and Granada possessed gymnasia rather than universities, ib. Of Oxford, 31. Its great men, 32, n., 409; ii., 275. Of Germany, i., 159, 163, 181, 182. Italian universities, 259, 409. Of Leyden, 409; ii., 265, 306. Of'Altdo-f and INDEX. 461 Helmstadt, 60. Of Copenhagen, i., 182. Of Prussia, ib. Of Scotland, 265, 299, 409. Lec- tures of professors, 182 ; ii., 60. State of, in the seventeenth century, 267. x Urban VIII., Matthei Barberini, ii., 28, 185. Urbino, Francis, duke of, i., 268. Urfe, d', his romance of " Astrde," ii.,236, 372,416. Usher, Archbishop, ii., 53. Forms the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, 268. His " Annals of the old Testament," 278. His Chronology, ib. VACARIUS in 1149 taught at Oxford, i., 32, n. Vaillant, his travels and medals, ii., 278. Valdes, a Spanish teacher of the Reformation, i., 196. Valerianus, " de infelicitate litteratorum," i., 174, n. Valla, Laurentius, criticisms of, i., 92, 93, 179, 182. Valle, Pietro della, his Travels, ii., 266. Vallee, pamphlet of, i., 289. Valois, Henry, ii., 274. Vanbrugh, Sir John, dramas of, ii., 392, 398. Vanini, Lucilio, ii., 57. Burned at Paris, ib. V'archi, his dialogues, the " Ercolano," i., 385. Praise of Dante above Homer by, ib. Varenius, Syntaxis Graecas linguae of, i., 178. Varignon, M., " Nouvelle Mecanique" by, i., 398. Varoli, the " Anatomia" of, i., 404. Vasa, Gustavus, i., 187. Vasari, his paintings in the Sistine Chapel, i., 274. Vasquez, law writer, i., 327. Vassan, de, MM., collect the " Scaligerana secun- da," i., 260, n. Vatable, professor of Hebrew, i., 180. Vatican, library of the, i., 410. Vaugelas, M. de, remarks on the French language by, ii., 227, 402. Vaumonere, de, ii., 236. Vaux, Lord Nicholas, poet, i., 221, 344, 34.5. Vega, Garcilasso de la, i., 219, 336. , Lope de, Spanish plays of, i., 338, n., 361 ; ii., 189. His fertility, i., 361. Versification, 362. Popularity, ib. Comedy, ib. Tragedy, 363. Spiritual plays of, 364. Vegetable productions, on, i., 401. Vegius, Maphaeus, i., 115, 383. Velasquez, History of Spanish Poetry by, i., 339. Veldek, Henry of, i., 42. Velthuysen, " de justi et decori," &c., ii., 337. Venice, contest of Pope Paul V. with, ii., 26. Re- public of, 135, 356, 357. Venus, transit of, over the sun, ii., 251. Phases of, ib. Veracity, ii., 346. Verdier, Bibliotheque Francais by, i., 387, 412. Vergara, Greek Grammar of, i., 178, 252. Vertumen, Francis, i., 260, n. Vesalius, " de corporis humani fabrics," i., 238. t anatomical discoveries, 238, 403. His disgrace and death, 239. See also ii. , 259. Vesputio or Vespucci, Americo, his discoveries, i., 148. Vettori Pietro, edition of Ciceronis opera by, i., 176. His Greek erudition, 177. Variae lectiones of, 246, n. Huet's opinion of, 246, 248. Viaud or Theophile, poet, ii., 171. Vicente, Gil, dramas of, i., 146, 227. Vico, Eneas, i., 269, 410. Victor Vitensis, edition by Chiflet of, n., 406. Victoria, Francis k, Relectiones theologicaj of, i., 324. Victorin of Feltre, i , 65. Victorius, Petrus. See Vettori. Vida of Cremona, Latin poet, i., 224; 11., -KW. " Ars poetica" of, i., 383. Vidus Vidius, anatomist, i., 239, 404. Vieta [Francis VieteJ, his reputation as an algebra- ist, i., 235, 236, 392. His mathematit il works, ;i., 244. His algebra, 245. Vieussens, his Neurographia Universalis, ii., 430. Vigeror Vigerius, de Idiotisrnis, ii., 15. Vigilius Tapsensis, ii., 406. Vigneul-Marville or M. D'Argonne, ii., 402, 403, a His Melanges de Litterature, 409. Vignola, his Perspective, i., 397. Villedieu or Des Jardins, Madame, ii., 4J^. Villegas, Manuel Estevan de, ii., 168. Villon, French poet, i., 122. Vincent de Beauvais, i.. 79. Vincentius Linuensis, ii., 39, n., 43. Vinci, Lionardo da, painter, i., 126, 127, 23*. Viner, abridgment of law by, n.,366. Vinnius, commentary of, i., 321 ; ii., 341. Virgil, Eclogues of, ii., 372. His ^neid, i., 339, ii., 373, 376, 406. Continuation by Maphaeus, i., 115, 383. Caro's Italian translation, 333. His Georgics, ii., 381, 382. Tasso compared with, i., 334, 335, 360. Camoens compared with, 339 See also 382, 383 ; ii., 412. -- , Polydore, i., 133, 134. Visconti, contributor to the Biographic Universelle, ii., 277. n. Vitelli, Cornelio, i., 133. Vitello, optics of, i., 77, 234, 396. Vitiis sermonis, de, treatise by G. Vossius, ii., 21. Vives, ethical writings of, i., 179, 210. Viviani, solution of the area of the cycloid by, n., 243, 420. Voet, Gisbert, Dissertationes Theologicae of, ii., 54. His controversy with Descartes, 102. Voiture, letters of, ii., 89, 224,225. Poetry of, 171, 401, 404, n., 410. Voltaire, sarcasms of, ii., 225. Remarks of, i.,333, 338; ii., 324, 327, 433. His poetry, 371. His dramatic works, 385, 399. His style, 401. Volkelius, " de vera Religione," ii , 44. Vondel, Dutch writer of tragedy, ii., 173, 174. Vossius, Gerard, philological works, &c., of, i.,252, n. ; ii., 19, 20, &c., 272. " Histona Pelagiana" by, 43, n ---- , Isaac, his Catullus and Pomponius Mela, n., '27-i. Mis " Aristarchus," 273. Voyages, early writers of, i., 148, 212, 406 ; ii.,266. English voyages of discovery, i., 407 ; ii., 433. WACE, poems of, i., 41. Wakefield, Rohf-rt, lectures at Cambridge by, i., 182. Waldis, Burcard, German fabulist, i., Waller, liis versification, ii., 181, :i72, 378. His panegyric on Cromwell, 373. See also i, 391. Wallis, his " H istory of Algebra," ii , 245. His " In- stitutio Logica?," 299. 420. Walpole, Horace, i., 390. Correspondence of, n., 22.'), 401. Walton, Isaac, his Complete Angler, ii., 413. --- 1 Brian, Polyglott of, ii., 431. War, the rights of, treatises on, i., 325, 326 ; ii , 136, 141, 144, 145, 152, 153, 154. Warburton, Bishop, ii., 40. His comments on Slmkspeare, 204. Remarks of, 291. n., 302. Warner, his " Albion's England," i., 348. Warton, Dr., on the French versions of Latin au- thors, i., 61, n. Criticisms of, J23, 1C9, 170, 229, 387; il. 187. Wealth of nations, ii., 134, 363. Webbe, his Discourse of English poetry, i., 264, __ l,his travestie of the Shepherd's Kalendar, i., 350. Webster, dramatist, his " Duchess of Malfy," ii., 217. His " Vittoria Corombona," 218. " Appiut and Virginia," ib. Weller's Greek erammar, 11., 15. Wenceslas, critique on Rotrou's, ii., 196. 462 INDEX Werder, German translator of Ariosto and Tasso, ii., 172. Werner, his ancient geometrical analysis restored, i., 234. Wesley, remark by, ii., 67, n. Wessel of Groningen, i., 109. Westminster School, Greek taught in, i., 183, 263. Whateley, Archbishop, his Elements of Logic, ii., 87, n., Ill, n , 117, n. Whetstone, plays by, i., 368. Whewell, -Mr., remarks of, i., 399, n. Whichcot, his tenets, ii., 287, 288. Whitaker, his translation of Nowell, &c., i., 263. White, Thomas or Albius, ii., 299. Whitgift, his Reply to Cartwright, i., 266. The Lambeth Articles by, ii., 42. Wichffe, John, i., 105. Wicquefort, his " Ambassador," ii., 366. Widmandstadt's New Testament in Syriac, i., 405. Wierus " de praestighs," i., 289. Wilkins on the Principles of Natural Religion, ii., 288. On a " Philosophical Language," 327, 400. His " Discovery of a New World in the Moon," 413. See also 420. William of Champeaux, his school of logic at Paris, i., 31. , duke of Guienne, Troubadour, i., 39. HI., reign of, ii., 362, 364, 380. Willis, Dr., his Anatomy of the Brain, ii., 430. Theory of, 431. Willoughby's Natural History, i., 401 ; ii., 423. W'llls, alienation of property by, ii., 147. Wilson's Art of Logic, i., 229, 387. His Art of Rhetoric, 380, 387. WimpfeHng, reput%tion of, i., 188, 244. Wmterton, ' Poets Minores 1 ' of, ii., 16. Wit and fancy, ii., 115. Witchcraft, books against the punishment for, i., 264, 266, 289. Wjttich, his works of, ii., 306. Wither, George, poems of, ii., 181. Wittenberg, the University of, i., 157, 163, 298. Witton School, Cheshire, statutes of, i., 263. Wolf's Euripides in great estimation, i., 248. His Demosthenes, 255, n. Wolsey, Cardinal,!., 183. , Wood, Anthony, his enunasration of great scholars whose names render Oxford illustrious, i 32. n 182. Woodward on the nutrition of plants, ii., 427. Or geology, 429. World, physical theory of the, i., 293, 294. Wotton on Modern and Ancient Learning, ii., 276, 414. Wren, Sir Christopher, ii., 420, 430. Wright, Edward, mathematician, i.,399. On Nav- igation, 408. Wursticius or Ursticius, Christian, i., 395. Wyatt. Sir John, poems of, i., 221, 344. His epis- tle to John Poms, 222. Wycherley's Plain Dealer, ii., 397. Country Wife, ib. XAVIER, St. Francis, i., 196. Xenophon, editions and \ersions of, i., 245, 248. Ximenes, Cardinal, i., 244, 410. Xylander, i., 304. ZAMOSCIUS, de Senatu Romano, i., 267. Zarot, printer at Milan, i., 99, 103, 128. Zanchius, i., 288. Zasius, Ulric, professor at Friburg, led the way to more elegant jurisprudence, i., 215. Zeno, i., 110; ii., 74. Zerbi of Verona, his work on " Anatomy," i., 148. Zeunius, ii., 15. Zodiacus Vita;, moral poem by Manzolli, i., 194. Zoology, writers on, i., 240, 399 ; ii., 256, 423, 424 Zoroaster, ii., 432. Zouch's Elementa Juris Civilis, ii., 141. Zurich, the reformed religion taught by Zwingle at, i, 164. Anabaptists condemned at, ib., n., and drowned in the lake of, 281. Gesner's botanical garden at, 402. Zwingle or Zuinglius, Reformer, i., 163. His ten ets differed from Luther's, 188. His variance with Erasmus, 191. Character of his writings, 198. Published in a fictitious name, 193. His death, 191 , n., 192, 255. See also 281. Zwoll, College of, i., 108. ** For some names and topics unavoidably omitted in the INDEX, the READER is requested to refer to tk CONTENTS of each VOLUME. 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