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not wish to see a reputation for scrib bling hereditary in his house, nor that his son should become a poet by profession.

REMARKS ON THE LIFE OF WILLIAM

LORD RUSSELL; WRITTEN BY LORD
JOHN RUSSELL.

It is certainly very natural for a THE agitating period of wonder man, situated as Piso was, to view and vicissitude which the present race things in this light; and even if the of mankind have witnessed, seems risk which his son ran, from his deto have exerted a sinister influence sire of obtaining the poetic crown, both on intellect and that literature had not appeared to him of such mag- which may be considered as its food. nitude, it was still great enough to Tremendous concussions-unwonted make his friend Horace think of giving and unequalled horrors changes the young man juster ideas of the violent, sudden, and destructive, as difficulties and dangers attending such the tornadoes of our sultry Western pursuits. The father, it may well India, and having, like them, their be supposed, was on such a footing thickest gloom illuminated by tranwith our poet, that the latter would sient flashes of intolerable brightness, very readily do him a favour which such as the loftiest human powers was attended with so little trouble. often scatter through the darkness of A performance, in which the princi- the deepest human depravity,-fertile pal rules, and, as it were, the mysteries regions instantaneously blasted and of the art, were unfolded, was chosen desolated by the explosion of the great as an indirect, but sure way of attain- revolutionary volcano,-and new uning the desired end. Perhaps the heard of domains rising amidst these young Calpurnius himself had begged horrors, like those islands which some Horace to furnish him with some great convulsion of nature has suddenrules and directions; and then, un- ly created in the ocean: Such are the der the appearance of introducing the scenes that have, in our eventful days, young man to poetry, our author roused even the dullest spirits, and might, without showing his design, fixed the attention of the most indogive such a turn to his poetical epistle lent and careless. What, then, must as to deter the youth from poetry al- have been their effect on those powertogether. The Horatian manner of ful intellects and ardent spirits who philosophizing, as exhibited in his sa- love to ride the whirlwind in imaginatires and his other epistles, was per- tion, even where they cannot direct the fectly adapted to this design. The storm? With regard to the operation unrestrained freedom of following, of those mighty changes on our moral without any regard to method, wher- feelings, it is hard to decide whether ever his thoughts led him, allowed they have been beneficial or the conour author to introduce all such epi- rary, witnessing, as we have, by turns, sodes or digressions, as his fancy or the cold and feeble cowardice with humour might suggest; his main de- which whole nations bent beneath the sign was so much the less visible, and iron yoke of despotism, and the hethus too he could make his piece in- roic ardour of resistance that kindled teresting to other readers besides those the virtuous, though fatal, zeal of La to whom it was immediately addres- Vendee, and dazzled Europe with the sed. But what he chiefly gained by consuming flames of Moscow. We this was a new, and, as it appears, al- have actually felt what Claudio only ways welcome, opportunity of telling anticipated, and been suddenly transthe poetasters, who swarmed in Rome, planted from "chilling regions of thick some important, though disagreeable, ribbed ice" to the dreadful intensity of truths, and of making them feel, with fires kindled by the agony of sufferall that contempt which they deserving and fed by the fury of despair. It ed, that they did not comprehend the is the opinion of many, that, in the very elements of an art which they habit of daily witnessing, as it were, had the hardihood to profess. So such an aggregate of crime and misery, much may be said in general: a more as scarce allowed the mind time for minute examination of this Epistle the exercise of human sympathy to will, I flatter myself, confirm the individual suffering, our best feelings truth of my hypothesis. have become obtuse, and scarce vulnerable to the softer sorrows of hu

(To be continued.)

350

manity. To account for that complication of crimes and horrors by which the most popular German tragedies are distinguished, it has been said that the delicacy of feeling which is cherished by refinement did not exist among the worthy Teutons, and that, therefore, when their feelings were to be roused, the end could only be fully attained, by having recourse to some dark tale of aggravated guilt, or unnatural horror, such as the ballads of rude times, or some of the earliest Grecian dramas presented to a people yet strangers to the softer civilities of life, consequently unacquainted with that fine awakened tact which renders the mind susceptible of the acutest suffering, and the liveliest enjoyment springing from sources incomprehensible to the less cultivated. Perhaps it is to the obtuseness produced by a familiarity with real horrors, that we must impute the taste for terrible and astounding fictions that has of late become so prevalent. It required minds trained to view the revolutionary atrocities, to relish the high coloured paintings of that Noble Author, who, though approved by none, is admired by all. We must have been prepared by a familiarity with the Giaour and Lara in the closet, to endure Bertram on the stage. Our appetite for sitting in security to view human souls on the rack of anguish, or in the agonies of remorse, was more cheaply satisfied formerly, by witnessing all that humanity could suffer on this side time, and our human sympathies were soothed by the bright retribution awaiting the virtuous sufferer when beyond the reach of sorrow, and even by the tremulous hope that hovers round the grave of the penitent criminal. But this chastened sorrow is not sufficient for our They drive the present agitators. impenitent wretch glorying in his crimes, and disdainful of offered mercy, to the brink of the gulf which yawns to receive him, and lift, as far as fancy can, the veil of that dread futurity that awaits him.

How different the sensations thus excited from the deep, yet tender emotions with which less hardened minds were wont to regard a dying Clarissa, while celestial hope shed a soft lustre even over the last struggles of the expiring saint; or, to quit fiction for reality, how is the heart

wrung by the spectacle presented to
us in the memoir we are considering,
where a nobleman, young, amiable,
universally beloved and esteemed,
happy beyond the common lot of hu-
manity as a son, father, brother, and,
above all, the husband of the most
beloved and most excellent of her sex,
having all those private virtues that
endear, and all those public ones that
exalt the human character, hallowed
by a deep sense of grateful devotion
to the Author of this ample portion
of felicity; to see such a being drag-
ged from the bosom of his family,
and after the iniquitous mockery of a
trial, exhibited on a scaffold to a gaz-
ing multitude, and pouring out that
pure blood, so precious to his family
and to his country, to appease the
vengeance of a malicious and inveter-
ate enemy. Here every virtuous sym-
pathy is awakened, and the heart,
melted by such a spectacle of woe, is
purified by the example of the noble
sufferer. The faith by which he is
supported, the divine tranquillity
with which he resigns all that was so
very dear to him," in the sure and
certain hope of a blessed immortality,"
all conspire to give a kind of sacred
character to his sufferings, and to our
sympathy, and we regard the victim
of Patriotism only with less venera-
tion than we should do the martyr
of Religion!

We owe much to the noble writ-
er, whose narrative of the life of his
illustrious ancestor recalls to our
minds the memory of worth so ex-
emplary, and renews impressions ear-
ly inade on every British mind not
shamefully ignorant of that most im-
portant period of our history during
which that lamented nobleman flou-
rished and fell. Our late notice of
the life and letters of his admirable
partner, Lady Rachel, has anticipated
much of the mere narrative detail of
this work, in which the reader will
admire with us the nervous plainness
and simplicity of the style, and still
more the moderation and impartiality
which are preserved throughout. If
the lingering heat which lurks in the
ashes of party animosity could be in
any case allowed to mingle in a nar-
rative of facts, such a deviation might
appear venial in a descendant of the
house of Russell; but the noble writ-
er claims no such indulgence, seem-
ing on all occasions guided by a sense

of perfect rectitude, if, indeed, he is not too lenient in the only instance wherein the shadow of blame attaches to his ancestor. The blind credulity with which Lord Russell and his compatriots listened to the monstrous fabrications of Oates and Bedloe in regard to the Popish plot, and the very severe measures which they adopted in consequence of that imposition, cannot, or ought not to be justified. Rash in itself, it was fatal in its consequences. The eagerness with which they followed out accusations admitting of very doubtful proof, kindled in the breast of the Duke of York, and his adherents, that deadly hatred which pursued the most virtuous and most popular nobleman in England to the grave, singling him out as the most distinguished victim to strike terror into the party which he supported. We are told, that " Oft at wisdom's gate suspicion sleeps, and to simplicity resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill." The moderation and calm good sense which seem to have peculiarly distinguished Lord Russell from the rest of his party, was not proof, at that nost unhappy period, against the current of popular opinion, and the eagerness by which his friends were actuated in the pursuit of an object certainly most desirable, that of excluding from power those whom they foresaw likely to use it for the worst purposes. But the terror of popery, and the just indignation against tyranny, were at that time so high-wrought, that credulity, almost amounting to delirium, prevailed among the friends of liberty, and to doubt of the base perjuries of Oates and Bedloe would have been considered as lukewarmness, or rather betraying the good cause.

The lives of eminent persons who act an important part on the stage of public life afford useful materials for what may be called the Biography of History. Such biography, when written with such good taste, impartiality, and accurate care in selecting authorities, as this under consideration, is invaluable, both as throwing light into what may be called the dark passages, where the historian has to struggle through the intricacies of contradictory evidence, and as coming home to men's business and bosoms more than those grave and important facts which it is the business of the historian to relate. The meretricious ornaments

of style are now so common and easily had, that they have fallen into a vulgar cheapness; yet, when one considers how much the public taste has been vitiated by modes of expression, in some instances pert and flippant, in others ornate and laboured, we must respect the dignified simplicity of this author, who has not stooped to gather any of those flowers so profuse Ïy scattered in the common paths of modern literature, but relating, with manly plainness, and unquestioned truth, facts of too deep interest in themselves, and too self-evident in their consequences, to require either ornament or comment, leaves the strength of his arguments, and the true pathos of his story, to work their own effects. The generation now growing up are, from circumstances peculiar to the present time, to which we have already adverted, deplorably ignorant of history, and shamefully indifferent about the past, we fear too often about the future. For the first there is some excuse. Those who stand to witness the conflagration of a city, or an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, may be pardoned for being wholly engrossed by the agitating scenes passing before them. Amidst all those horrors, however, which we have contemplated in comparative safety, the progress of luxury, and of exterior and artificial refinement, has been rapid and incessant. It is melancholy to consider how much the mind may be hardened, and even barbarized, while the senses are gratified, and the fastidious taste indulged, with all the visible requisites of elegant voluptuousness. There is no need for going back to the declining years of the Roman empire, to show how much cruelty, avarice, and general corruption, consist with the highest refinements of luxury. Countries called Christian afford nearer examples. It was amidst the festive gaieties of that court where Catharine de Medicis infused the refinements of Italian taste and science among the buoyant and gallant spirits of the nation, that the massacre of St Bartholomew was planned and executed. It was from the most polished and magnificent court ever known in Europe that the fatal mandate proceeded which abolished the edict of Nantz, and inflicted miseries on the exiled Protestants, only exceeded by the sufferings of those detained to taste every variety of cruel

ty at home. It was from the gay, witty, and licentious court of the Second Charles that the orders were issued for the legal murder of Russell and Sydney; and it is to be observed that there was no defect of intellect, but a considerable taste for science and the arts, prevalent among the princes and their followers who have left that indelible stain on the pages of our history. There is reason to presume, that, had Charles II. lived in our days, his progress in chemistry and mineralogy (for a royal student) might have been considerable. Even the pious and veracious Evelyn, who held the abominations of that court in due abhorrence, bears testimony to the king's taste and capacity for science. The inference from all is, that we are not entitled to think that we are the people, and wisdom shall die with us, because we have made a rapid progress in those sciences useful and honourable in themselves, yet to be considered merely as an exercise of the understanding, neither calculated to warm and enlarge the heart, nor to strengthen and fix the principles, and no otherwise exerting a beneficial influence on the conduct, than as they Occupy time which might be otherwise devoted to worse purposes. We do not mean to undervalue sciences from which the community have largely benefited; nor to infer, that a pious and virtuous man will become less so by being a proficient in them. But confining ourselves to their moral influence on individual character, we feel safe in asserting, that if they take nothing away from a man's piety or virtue, they add nothing to it, nor yet to that kind of every-day knowledge which is requisite for the conduct of affairs, or to enable a man to please and instruct in conversation. The talents peculiarly adapted to those pursuits ought to be cultivated and encouraged, yet the general devotion to them by those who are not calculated to derive any advantage to themselves or others by such studies, has certainly co-operated with the convulsions of the age to withdraw the attention of our contemporaries from subjects at least equally important, and worthy at any rate to share the attention which these sciences have engrossed.-Now that

The hurly-burly's done,
And the battle lost and won,

it is time to look about and calculate what we have lost or gained on the score of truly useful knowledge during this momentous period.

There is no short pithy sentence in our language so often quoted as that maxim of Pope-" The proper study of mankind is man." Those sentences which pass into apothegms, and are oftenest applied, have always something in them that meets the general sense of mankind. The mystic future that awaits us all is mercifully veiled from our sight. But, besides the entertainment and improvement to be derived from studying human cha racter, called into action by these passions or principles, in which we all share, the only means permitted to us of judging of the future is by a comparison with the past. It is thus we are instructed, in the strange medley of human affairs, what to seek or what to shun, where to hope, and where to fear. He who is merely engaged in viewing what passes before him, has comparatively a narrow range indeed of observation. The passions and prejudices of the multitude who have been so long tost on a stormy sea of terror and uncertainty, lead to results that defy all foresight and calculation. Uncertainty, more than usually dim, covers even the more immediate future. It is only from an intimate knowledge of the past, that regular deductions can be made, or sound opinions formed. But we live, like Katterfelto, upon wonders, or a gossiping inspection into the lives and habits of contemporary individuals. These, if possessed of any good or bad quality, distinguishing them from the nameless crowd, can find no shelter in the most sacred shades of privacy. There are always persons ready to gratify this morbid love of private anecdote and dissected character,-like the tyger, who, having once got the taste of human flesh, never willingly returns to that of other animals. Those once accustomed to the gratification of an idle, and often criminal, curiosity, do not often acquire a taste for useful, or, at least, harmless information. How much do we owe to any one who furnishes us, in the form of a biographical memoir like the present, a worthier theme for thought and conversation than this ephemeral impertinence!

(To be continued.)

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC INTELLIGENCE.

Sir Isaac Newton.-The 6th number of the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal contains a letter from the late Dr Reid to Dr Robison, communicating some particulars regarding the family of Sir Isaac Newton, which go to show that he was descended of a Scots family, and that his grandfather had gone to England with James I. at his accession to the crown of that country. Pitcairn's Island.-Captain Henry King of the Elizabeth visited this island in March 1819, and gives a very interesting account of the inhabitants, (the mutineers of the Bounty and their descendants,) in an extract from his Journal, published in the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal. The population is upwards of forty, who, under the patriarchal superintendence of John Adams, seem to have acquired no inconsiderable knowledge of religious and moral duties. The officers and crew of the Elizabeth left them nearly two hundred books of various descriptions.

Diminution of the Waters of the Globe. -Mountains having been conjectured to be formations from a state of solution in water, it has been inquired, "What has become of the vast body of fluid which formerly covered the earth, and stood over even the highest mountain peaks?" The following statement it is presumed may remove some of the difficulties attending this question. Salts, when crystallizing from a state of aqueous solution, are not confined to the surface of the liquid, but frequently rise above it. This effect being considerable in the small scale in our soda cisterns, how much more striking must it not have been during the crystallization of mountains. If crystals in a soda cistern shoot an inch above the surface of the solution, it cannot excite surprise if, in the vast primeval fluid, crystallizations have in this way risen many thousand feet above the level of the fluid. If this be admitted as a fair inference, it will go far in assisting us to explain what has been called the diminution of the original waters of the globe. Edin. Phil. Jour.

Account of a Vessel struck with a Swordfish. A vessel which arrived at Liverpool about a year ago, (the Kitty, Captain Hodson,) from a voyage to the coast of Africa, being put into the graving-dock for the purpose of receiving some repairs, was found to be perforated through the bow, by a hard bony substance. This substance, probably a part of the rostrum of a Xiphias or Sword-fish, had penetrated through a solid part of the vessel, where the thickness in timber and planks was 12 inches of sound oak. The shattered end of the bone VOL. VII.

was visible on the outside, and the smaller extremity appeared within the ceiling. The latter part being observed by a car. penter, who mistook it for a trenail, he struck at it a blow with a mallet, by which a portion of the tip was broken off. Finding it to be something curious, he pointed it out to Messrs J. and R. Fisher, shipbuilders, the owners of the vessel, who caused it to be taken out. The position of the bone was at the distance of four feet, horizontally from the stem, and two feet below the surface of the water when the vessel was afloat. Hence, it appeared, that when the ship had been in rapid progress through the water, she had been met and struck by a sword-fish advancing in an opposite direction, by the shock of which, or by the action of the water forced past the body of the animal by the vessel's pro gress, the snout had been broken off and detached. The blow, though it must have been singularly forcible, was not observed by any person in the ship. Had the bone been withdrawn, the vessel would probably have foundered. The substances through which it had penetrated were, a sheet of copper, an oak plank 24 inches in thickness, a solid oak timber of 74 inches, and another plank also of oak, of 2 inches. The bony substance, which, through the politeness of Messrs Fisher, I was allowed to examine, is 15 inches in length, 2 inches greatest diameter, and weighs 1 lb. 2 oz. It is nearly cylindrical at the point, but considerably compressed towards the root. The longest and shortest diameters in the middle are respectively 1 7-10th inches and 1 1-10th; and in the thickest part, near the extremity, 2 inches and 13-10th. Most of the surface is rough, the colour grey, the fracture splintery. The roughness, which extends all round the bone to the distance of 5 or 6 inches from the point, and indeed all over it, excepting on a part of the surface, consists of minute tubercles or denticles, imbedded in a substance having the appearance of an incrustation of the thickness of a shilling. Some of the tubercles are wanting, but their cavities remain visible. Whether these tubercles are natural to the substance on which they are found, or whether they are the incrustation of a species of sertularia, I had not an opportunity of determining. That part of the surface which is free from any denticles appears of a fibrous bony texture. The broken extremity is hard, white, and splintery in the fracture. In the interior of the bone are four angular perforations, running longitudinally almost as far as the very tip; they are from 1-10th

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