:. 
 
 ( 
 
 I 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 LITERARY 
 
 RECREATIONS. 
 
 BY HENRY CARD, A. M. 
 
 OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, OXFORD. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY W. WILSON, 
 
 ST. PETER'S HILL, DOCTORS' COMMONS, 
 
 TOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND' ORME, 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1809.
 
 TO 
 
 THOMAS CHARLES CADOGAN, ESQ. 
 
 WITH A DEEP RESPECT FOR HIS VIRTUES, 
 
 THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS MOST SINCERE, 
 
 AND MOST OBLIGED FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 CHAPEL HILL, MARGATE, 
 JUNE 6, 1809. 
 
 1575650

 
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 Of the Origin of Eulogies. 
 
 A HE love of praise is so generally prevalent, that 
 without fear of contradiction, it may be regarded as 
 a common principle, inherent in human nature, 
 because it seems inseparable from self-love. This 
 passion, has rendered some men as conspicuous for 
 their crimes, as it has others, for their virtues. It 
 has produced princes and generals, who have done 
 
 9 
 
 the work of demons, in order to obtain the name of 
 heroes ; and it has also given birth to the systems 
 of the legislator, and to the eloquence of the orator* 
 Fools and flatterers have not been wanting to con* 
 
 B
 
 found those two classes of men. But their panegy* 
 rics may be said to resemble the statues erected b 
 the Romans to their emperors ; most of which were 
 broken to pieces, when the object of them ceased 
 to exist. Death, does, indeed, make as much ha- 
 voc with the reputation of the former class, as they 
 did with their swords, when living, among their 
 fellow creatures. Fear and interest, being no longer 
 constrained to pour forth their eulogies, their me* 
 mories are . consigned at once to the vengeance of 
 posterity. How differently does death operate upon 
 the characters of the benefactors of mankind ? The 
 voice of envy is then heard no more against them ; 
 and immortality commences.* That such is the 
 immutable distinction established by the fiat of after- 
 ages, between these classes of men, cannot escape 
 the observation of those, who have been accustomed 
 to survey the history of the world with an attentive 
 eye. 
 
 The origin of eulogies, prior, as they unques- 
 tionably were, to civil institutions, may yet form 
 
 * Urit enim fulgere suo qui praegravat artes, 
 Infra se positas ; extinctus amabatur idem. 
 
 Horace, Epist. I. Lib. II.
 
 the subject of ah entertaining and instructive essay j 
 for the desire of knowing what has happened in 
 ages.> when the use of arts and letters was unknown, 
 can never be coupled with absurdity and ridicule, 
 so long as it is attended with the beneficial conse- 
 quence of enabling us to appreciate more fully the 
 blessings of civilization. 
 
 * r 
 
 
 
 To the first hymns addressed to the Deity, we 
 may safely ascribe the origin of eulogies. These 
 hymns were inspired by admiration and gratitude. 
 Man, in his primaeval state, on contemplating the 
 magnificent canopy of Heaven, the boundless im- 
 mensity of the waters, the deep gloom of the fo- 
 rests, the endless variety and richness of the fields, 
 
 and the innumerable multitude of beings, destined 
 
 \ 
 
 to ornament the globe which he inhabited, must 
 have been impressed with the feelings of admiration 
 and delight. To these, another sentiment would 
 necessarily succeed. When the transports of won- 
 der had subsided at this august spectacle, he could 
 not fail to discover that he was not the author of 
 it, but that it was the work of an all-wise, all-pow- 
 erful, and all benevolent Being. Possessed of this 
 
 B2
 
 religious idea, he must then have joined his voice 
 to that of nature, and sung forth, with the most 
 lively sensations of gratitude, his praises, who en- 
 abled him to perceive, and feel, the incomparable 
 beauty of the universe. 
 
 The first hymn chanted in this solitude of the 
 world, observes an eloquent arid profound writer,* 
 was a great epoch for the human race. Soon after 
 that event, parents, we may suppose, assembled 
 their children in the fields, to offer up the same 
 homage. Then did the aged sire, holding a blade 
 of corn in one hand, and, with the other, pointing 
 to the earth, sea, and skies, instruct his family to 
 sound the praises of the God who nourished them. 
 
 These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 
 Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous, then ? 
 
 Unspeakable ; who sit'st above the heav'ns, 
 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen, 
 
 In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
 
 Paradise JLarf, Book V 
 
 * See the beautiful " Essai sur les Eloges," by M. Thomas. 
 
 Tom. I. p. 2.
 
 In this reign of nature, thanksgivings were like- 
 wise repeated at the rising and the setting of the 
 sun, the renewal of the year, the commencement 
 of a season, and the appearance of a new moon. 
 In ages more advanced into a state of regular policy, 
 we discover the constant practice of addressing the 
 gods upon all occasions of happiness, or misery. 
 When battles were fought, and won, or when pes- 
 tilence and famine visited them, the people equally 
 crowded the temple, to celebrate the praises of the 
 deities they adored, 
 
 In those hymns, which were sung in that country 
 where Homer poured forth his immortal lines, and 
 Orpheus instituted his mysteries, and which are still 
 left entire to us, it is easy to discover passages of 
 great sublimity, disfigured as they are by the idle 
 tales of the poets and painters. The hymns attri- 
 buted to Homer, partake of the grandeur and beauty 
 of his poetry ; yet may rather be regarded as mo- 
 numents of ancient mythology, than of religious 
 eulogies. Tradition has handed down to us, the 
 unrivalled fame which Pindar obtained for his 
 hymns to Jupiter, his paeans to Apollo, and lofty
 
 6 
 
 dithyrambics* to Bacchus. But the hand of time has 
 not spared one of those performances ; all that can 
 now be safely affirmed of them is, that they were con- 
 secrated to the Delphian Apollo, whose oracles equal" 
 ly laid under contribution, the credulity of the peo- 
 ple, and the ambition of the kings. It may, how- 
 ever, be reasonably doubted, whether even the name 
 of Pindar could have soared to an higher pitch of 
 sublimity, than is to be found in the following hymn 
 of Cleanthes. Animated by his divine subject, he 
 thus breaks forth in strains worthy, in every re- 
 spect, of the father of the stoics, "f 
 
 " O thou, who, under several names art adored, 
 but whose power is entire and infinite, O Jupiter, 
 first of immortals, sovereign of nature, governor of 
 all, and supreme legislator of all things, accept my 
 
 * Laurea donandus Apollinari, 
 
 Seu per audaces nova dithyrambos 
 Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur, 
 
 Lege solutis ; 
 Seu Deos, regesque canit, Deorum, 
 
 Sangninem, 
 
 Horace Lib. IV. Ode II. 
 
 f The appellation given him by Cicero, although he was the 
 disciple and successor of Zeno, the founder of the Portico.
 
 suppliant prayer, for to man is given the right to 
 invoke thee. Whatever lives and moves on th^s 
 earth, drew its being from thee ; we are a faint si- 
 militude 6f thy divinity, I will address, then, my 
 hymns unto thee, and never will I cease to praise 
 thy wondrous power. That universe, suspended 
 over our heads, and which seems to roll around the 
 earth, obeys thee ; it moves along, and silently sub- 
 mits to thy mandate. The thunder, ministers of 
 thy laws, rests under thy invincible hands, flaming, 
 gifted with an immortal life, it strikes, and all pa- 
 ture is terrified. Thou directest the universal spi- 
 rit, which animates all things, and lives in all be- 
 ings. Such, O Almighty King, is thy unbounded 
 sway. In heaven, on earth, or in the floods below, 
 there is nought performed, or produced, without 
 thee, except the evil, which came from the heart 
 of the wicked.* By thee, confusion is changed 
 
 f yov SKI jcovj trou 
 Ovre xar'ai Sspiov Seiov TTOXOV, oursvi KOVTU 
 
 IIx>if oTroVa ptfyvo'i Kowfa <r<ptTfpwv avoioitg. 
 
 Lines IS, YJ- 
 
 HOW similar is this sentiment to that expression of the Apostle 
 St. James. " Let no man say, when he is tempted, I am tempted 
 of God, for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth 
 
 he any man." 
 
 Epist. Chap.i. vtr. 13.
 
 into order : by thee, the warring elements are united. 
 By an happy agreement, thou so blendest good with 
 evil, as to produce a general and eternal harmony in 
 all things. But man, wicked man, alone, breaks 
 this great harmony of the world. Wretched being, 
 who seeks after good, and yet perceives not the uni- 
 versal law which points out the way to render him 
 at once good and happy. He abandons the pursuit 
 of virtue and justice, and roves where each passion 
 moves him. Sordid wealth, fame, and sensual plea- 
 sures, become, by turns, the objects of his pursuit. 
 O God, from whom all gifts descend, who sittest 
 in thick darkness,* thunder ruling Lord ; dispel this 
 ignorance from the mind of man ; deign to enlighten 
 his soul ; draw it to that eternal reason which serves 
 as thy guide, and support, in the government of the 
 world. So that, honoured with a portion of this 
 light, we may, in our turn, be able to honour thee, 
 by celebrating thy great works unceasingly, in a 
 
 * Axx Z/ Trav&o/JE, xftouvstpe^ a/^iaepawE. -Line 32. " He 
 made darkness his secret place ; his pavilion round about him 
 were dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies." Psalm xviii. 
 v. II. The hymn pf Cleanthes is preserved by Stobaeus. 
 
 Edit.Heeren. Tom. I. p. 30-35
 
 9 
 
 hymn. This is the proper duty of man. For, 
 surely, nothing can be more delightful to the in- 
 habitants of the earth, or the skies, than to ce- 
 lebrate that divine reason which presides over 
 nature." 
 
 Among the Roman poets, Ovid addressed a hymn 
 to Bacchus, Virgil one to Hercules, and Horace has 
 given us several, which discovers that grace and 
 harmony of versification, of which he was confess- 
 edly so great a master. But the above ode of Cle- 
 anthes is entitled, however, to a decided preference 
 over them all, not only from the superior sublimity 
 of its thoughts, but from the inimitable grandeur of 
 its expressions.* 
 
 Eulogies were not, however, long confined to the 
 Deity, but descended soon to man. They began in 
 truth, but have ended in adulation. They celebrated 
 benefits, before they flattered power, and honoured 
 
 * It may not be amiss here to observe, that our reason for 
 making no mention of the sacred hymns and songs addressed by 
 the Hebrews to the Deity, arises from respect, and the persua- 
 sion, that it would be highly improper to pass any criticism upon 
 performances which breathe so divine a spirit of eloquence.
 
 10 
 
 / 
 
 crimes. The reason of this proceeding is obvious. 
 In rude ages, man stood fierce, and independent. 
 In the equality of rights, which then existed, to 
 receive praise, was to merit it. The chief, or rather 
 the sole, ground of distinction, being personal qua- 
 lities, he who performed, therefore, the most use* 
 ful services, was sure to be the most admired and 
 respected. 
 
 / 
 
 The discovery of fire, the application of this ele- 
 ment to the usages of life, the art of forging me- 
 tals, and the rude design of a plough, were doubt- 
 less the first titles for the panegyrics of nations. 
 The meanest professions were then the noblest. 
 After these discoverers of materials adapted to the 
 purposes of life had received their due praises, the 
 next persons to whom, we may suppose, the palm 
 of distinction and honour was assigned, were those 
 who voluntarily encountered lions and tigers, and 
 other destructive animals, to ensure the safety and 
 preservation of their fellow creatures. The legisla- 
 tor may be conjectured to have been the last, in 
 this infant state of society, who was exalted to a_ 
 place among the benefactors of mankind.
 
 The existence, indeed, of eulogies, among the 
 earliest ages of the world, can be readily traced by 
 every writer, who has applied himself to the study 
 of general history. The Chinese, Phoenicians, and 
 Arabians, celebrated in songs the great exploits of 
 their heroes. Greece could not be recognised as 
 the country of Homer and Plato, when she adopted 
 or created this usage. The same custom was prac- 
 tised among the Romans, when the blood of a 
 horse, the husk of a bean, the ashes* of the bowels 
 of a calf killed in the belly of its mother, and 
 burnt on the altar of Vesta, were deemed sufficient 
 to purify their nation.* 
 
 In short, the same institution prevailed for several 
 centuries among the Celtic people. The Druids 
 were the philosophers and priests of the nation ; 
 the Bards were the panegyrists of heroes. Their 
 station was the centre of the army ; and the warrior, 
 who fell, covered with a hundred blows, turned his 
 dying eyes toward the poet, who was to raise him 
 to a state of immortality. These songs or eulogies 
 Constituted the chief ambition of that nation. The 
 
 * See Ovid Faati. Lib. IV,
 
 memory of those songs passed to succeeding- ge- 
 nerations. They served as the prelude to battles; 
 they animated the warrior ; they consoled the aged. 
 The hero, who could no longer wield the javelin* 
 seated himself under an oak, and listened with de- 
 light to the bard, who rehearsed the glorious deeds 
 of his youth ; while his sons, who surrounded 
 him, leaned upon their lances, and sighed to think 
 how distant was the period before they should equal 
 his renown. 
 
 The enthusiasm of valour, which these panegyrics 
 tended to call forth among this people, can be more 
 easily conceived than described. Such, indeed, 
 were the effects of those military songs, that we 
 may almost be justified in comparing them to the 
 Roman triumphs, which, by exhibiting symbols of 
 the cities, rivers, and mountains, the general had 
 visited in the course of his victorious career, ex- 
 posed to the eyes of the citizens the magnitude of 
 his conquest ; and never failed to excite in them 
 expressions the most conducive to the permanent 
 glory of their country. By means of these songs, 
 Germany, Gaul, and England, maintained so long
 
 13 
 
 tf struggle against the Roman power ; and they im- 
 parted to the north of Scotland a sentiment of li- 
 berty and independence, which is not even yet en- 
 tirely extinguished. Before Edward the First could 
 subdue the Welsh, he was obliged to have recourse 
 to the cruel expedient of massacring their bards. 
 But, though he put them to the sword, he could 
 not destroy those songs which perpetuated, in their 
 mountains, a contempt of death, and an abhorrence 
 of slavery. 
 
 The Germans, like the Scots and Britains, had 
 their bards, who, in the field of battle, and the feast 
 of victory, animated their auditors to imitate the 
 illustrious exploits of their fore-fathers. Several of 
 their songs existed in the time of Charlemagne, who 
 ordered them to be translated into verse, in the 
 language of the ancient Romantz. These monu- 
 ments were preserved, so long as this great prince 
 lived ; but they were swept away in the deluge of 
 barbarism which followed his death. An historian, 
 however, who wrote in the commencement of the 
 sixteenth century, quotes these ancient songs, and 
 pretends to have discovered them in some convent
 
 14 
 
 of Germany ; but, whoever has examined the ge"* 
 neral nature of the events recorded in his work, will 
 not be inclined, perhaps j to give implicit belief to 
 this interesting assertion.* 
 
 If we ascend from Germany towards the north, 
 among the Scandinavians, we shall find the same 
 usage existing. The people, who reduced the mis- 
 tress of the world, had a subject to celebrate, pow- 
 erfully adapted to kindle enthusiasm and valour in 
 their ferocious breasts. The Scaldi sung the glories 
 of their heroes ; and, it is said, that the Runic cha- 
 racters are still to be traced on the rocks of the 
 north. The Danes, who, under the famous name 
 of Normans, spread devastation over the largest and 
 finest part of Europe, never failed to be accompa- 
 nied, on their piratical expeditions, by a number of 
 Scaldi, or poets, selected for the express purpose of 
 recording their exploits. 
 
 The same usage prevailed in America, as we have 
 already shewn, existed in ancient Europe. In Mex- 
 ico, Peru, Brazil, and Canada, poets have appeared 
 
 * See the Chronicon of Albert Krantzius.
 
 16 
 
 to celebrate different sorts of great men. Thus, by 
 a very natural order of things, it seems, that public 
 interest laid the foundation of eulogies. Each nation 
 considered that as most praise- worthy, which most 
 administered to its wants and pleasures. Piracy 
 was, therefore, the theme of universal applause 
 among the Scandinavians, plunder among the Huns, 
 fanaticism among the Arabs, the benevolent and 
 useful virtues among civilized people, hunting and 
 fishing among savages, and navigation among the 
 inhabitants of islands. 
 
 Having now briefly surveyed the origin of eulo- 
 gies, of almost every nation of the earth, it will not 
 be widely deviating from the subject of this essay, 
 to close it with paying a tribute of admiration to 
 that practice, observed for so many centuries in 
 Egypt, preparatory to the interment of her people 
 and chief magistrates; and, which no nation, ancient 
 or modern, has ever dared to imitate, although it 
 was so pregnant of real good and greatness. We 
 are informed, by that eminent Greek historian, Dio- 
 dorus Siculus, that a tribunal was erected among the 
 Egyptians, where subjects, and princes themselves.
 
 were judged, and condemned or acquitted, after' 
 their deaths ; where the memories of the wicked 
 citizen and courtier, and profligate tyrant^ who had 
 escaped the punishment due to their numerous 1 
 crimes^ were delivered up to eternal infamy ; and 
 where the fathers of their people, and all, whose 
 labours had tended to promote the public good, and 
 private happiness, received those panegyrics and 
 honours which had been withheld from them when 
 living** What an edifying and imposing situation ! 
 How powerfully calculated to interest the best af- 
 fections of the mind ; and how worthy of that 
 country, which was the cradle of arts, sciences, and 
 mysteries, the school of Orpheus and Homer, Py- 
 thagoras and Plato, Solon and Lycurgus. To such 
 an institution we may, with the strictest propriety, 
 
 . 
 
 * Although some critics refuse their assent to the general opi- 
 nion of the Sixth Book of the JEneid being the most perfect of 
 the whole, in point of sublime invention, beauty of imagery, 
 majesty of sentiment, and harmony of versification, yet they will 
 not assuredly deny, that, from one end of it to the other, we may 
 discover the strokes of the master. Those passages, especially j 
 interest our moral feelings, where, under the just empire of 
 Minos, the poet displays his eloquence, in describing the punish- 
 ments of wickedness, the happiness of the patriot who died for 
 his country, and the misery of the tyrant who oppressed it.
 
 17 
 
 apply those emphatic wohls of the Roman Histo* 
 fian, " Praecipuum munus annalium recr* ne virtuted 
 sileantur ; utque pravis dictis factisque ex poste* 
 ritate et infamia metus sit/'* 
 
 * Tacitus, Lib. III. Cap.LXV,
 
 18 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 * 
 
 On some particular Injunctions and Actions in the 
 New Testament. 
 
 AT is the opinion of many good Christians, that, 
 as the clergy are allowed so short a time in every 
 year to instruct their fellow-creatures from the 
 pulpit, their discourses ought, therefore, to be 
 chiefly or solely employed upon practical subjects ; 
 in shewing what our religion prohibits, and what it 
 enjoins us to do, in this world, in order that we 
 may be received to immortality, in that which is to 
 come. -Yet those who may entirely subscribe to 
 this opinion, will not, however, consider it as an 
 impertinent interference with the concerns of the 
 clerical profession, if we devote an Essay to the 
 interpretation of some particular injunctions and 
 actions of our Lord ; which, at the first glance,
 
 19 
 
 have even staggered the minds of the truly pious, 
 and have excited doubts altogether of the divine 
 authority of the Christian dispensation, in many 
 thousands, whom ignorance or inattention" has led 
 to obtain but a scanty and imperfect knowledge of 
 it. To learned men, the passages we shall select 
 for explanation, will, doubtless, seem to be of 
 little difficulty, and, perhaps, of no very high im- 
 portance. But as this volume will, it is to be 
 hoped, fall into other hands than those who have 
 studied the faith so profoundly, we may be allowed, 
 without the imputation of vanity j to think, that it 
 may be in our power satisfactorily to answer some 
 objections of those, who have not been accustomed 
 to make religion alone their rule of life. 
 
 Upon the following passages, then, we shall ven- 
 ture to make a few comments. 
 
 * 
 
 " So the devils besought him, saying, If thou 
 cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of 
 swine. And he said unto them, Go" Matt. viii 
 31, 32.
 
 20 
 
 The enemies of the Christian faith, with a ma* 
 lignant and illiberal exultation, have maintained the 
 destruction of the herd of swine to be one of those 
 miracles wrought by our Saviour, which., so far 
 from advancing any moral purpose, was an act 
 pregnant with the most evil and mischievous con- 
 sequences. And, in support of this assertion, they 
 have brought forward every specious argument, 
 which their sophistry could supply. But those who 
 have pursued their enquiries respecting the miracles 
 of our blessed Lord with more candour and imparti- 
 ality, and, we will venture to add, with more erudi- 
 tion, can as clearly perceive the laws of justice, and 
 the obligations of morality, to be strictly regarded, 
 in his sending the devils into a herd of swine, as in 
 any other miracle which he performed, to confirm 
 his claims to a divine commission. In their well- 
 meaning zeal to vindicate Jesus from even being 
 supposed as the author of the mischief here done, 
 some Divines have strongly contended, that our 
 Saviour did not command, but only suffered, the 
 devils, at their own request, to take possession of 
 the swine. But the expression, Go, implies, in 
 our opinion/, something more than a bare permis-
 
 21 
 
 sion ; and, for giving this command, we are in- 
 clined to think these, among many other reasons, 
 may be satisfactorily alledged, 
 
 Without entering into a discussion respecting the 
 extent of power which evil spirits had, to actuate 
 the minds of men, during the age in which our 
 Saviour* appeared upon earth, it is well known, 
 that the Jews ascribed his power of casting out 
 devils, to Beelzebub, the prince of devils. To sa- 
 tisfy, then, the most suspicious, that his controul 
 over the possessed was derived only from the divine 
 will, he sent the devils, which he had ejected out 
 of a poor man, into a herd of swine ; and, by that 
 act, made it equally obvious to the learned and ig- 
 norant, that, whatever compact might exist be- 
 tween him and the demoniacs, he could have none 
 with the swine. Our Lord might, also, intend to 
 
 * We could easily quote many expressions of the Apostles, to 
 prove the mighty influence which the Devil, " the God of this 
 world," as St. Paul styles him, 2 Corinthians jv. 4, possessed in 
 the affairs of men. But it will be sufficient to shew his power 
 in that respect, if we only call to remembrance the injunc- 
 tions which our Lord gave to his disciples, to supplicate God to 
 deliver them, ana rn Tramp*, from the evil one.
 
 22 
 
 shew, by this miracle, the great malice and power 
 of the devils, and the multitude of them that pos- 
 sessed the one or two persons ; since, on their ex- 
 pulsion, they were (Sufficient to actuate the bodies 
 of a herd of swine, which St, Mark affirms to have 
 consisted of no smaller number than two thousand, 
 By a miracle like this, addressed so completely to 
 the testimony of the senses, the most prejudiced 
 must likewise have been sensible of the great de- 
 liverance given to those two tormented persons. 
 
 It is the opinion of Grotius, he wrought this mi- 
 racle to convince the Greeks, who lived in Gadara, 
 and kept the herd of swine, that the laws of the 
 Jews were too sacred to be ridiculed, with impu- 
 nity, by them, as they did, upon account of their 
 prohibition to eat swine's flesh. How far this opi- 
 nion is entitled to general reception, we shall not 
 presume to determine. But those who may be 
 disposed to cavil at it, will surely admit, that the 
 destruction of the herd of swine was a just punish- 
 ment upon those to whom the beasts belonged, 
 since, by their soliciting Jesus, immediately after- 
 wards^ to depart from their coasts, it is very evi*
 
 23 
 
 dent, that they preferred their swine before their 
 souls. Yet either of the foregoing explanations, 
 we should hope, are quite adequate to refute any 
 objections to this miracle, on the score of its un- 
 suitableness to any good purpose ; and of its being 
 repugnant to every principle of humanity and 
 justice. 
 
 " Wherefore I say unto you, all manner of sin 
 and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men ; but the 
 blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be for- 
 given unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word 
 against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him ; 
 but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it 
 shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, 
 neither in the world to come/ 1 Matthew xii. 31, 
 32. 
 
 According to their peculiar tenets, have divines 
 interpreted the meaning of that sin, which is 'em- 
 phatically styled the sin against the Holy Ghost. 
 But, as their learning, like their intentions, are very 
 different, we shall avoid much useless discussion, 
 by briefly collecting the sentiments of the most
 
 24 
 
 sagacious and orthodox theologians upon this dis- 
 puted point. When the three Evangelists, Matthew, 
 Mark, and Luke, so explicitly concur in represent- 
 ing the sin of blasphemy againt the Holy Ghost, as 
 irremissible, " KTB ev T%TU rca Ktvi 9 are ev Tftf/xeXAov?/," 
 U is surprising to us that so skilful a commentator as 
 Grotius should attempt to soften the severity of this 
 sentence, by saying, that what is absolutely spoken 
 by our Lord, must be comparatively understood, 
 and only implies the extreme difficulty, though not 
 the absolute impossibility of obtaining the pardon 
 of this sin. 
 
 It may be observed, that, at the time that Jesus 
 declares all hope of forgiveness is excluded to him 
 who vilifies and blasphemes, the Holy Ghost, yet a 
 free pardon is assurecl to him who speaketh against 
 the Son of man ; that is, who shall style him a 
 wine-bibber, a glutton, an impostor, and shall im-, 
 pute his miracles to the agency of an infernal spirit. 
 Now it is evident, that this heinous offence could 
 not be committed dyring the actual ministry of 
 Christ, because the Holy Ghost was not to be sen* 
 till after his glojious resurrection, and ascension into,
 
 Heaven. When the descent of the Holy Ghost 
 communicated to the disciples of our Lord, the 
 ame stupendous powers he had possessed, to re- 
 vile that extraordinary gift became, therefore, a sin 
 of the most unpardonable nature, because this was 
 the completion of the evidence of his divine mis- 
 sion and character. Thus it appears, that the sin 
 against the Holy Ghost lay in totally resisting and 
 finally rejecting the Gospel, as preached by the 
 Apostles, who supported and established their com- 
 mission " by signs and wonders, and divers miracles 
 of the Holy Ghost." For those who had witnessed, 
 then, their nature, greatness, and number, still to 
 persist in denying Christ to be the Messiah, was a 
 sin in them obviously distinct from all their other 
 sins. Because, after those last infallible and deci- 
 sive tests of divine interposition, it evinced a most 
 incurable wickedness and perverseness of mind, a 
 most unconquerable and impious aversion, to refuse 
 " being brought to faith in Christ." 
 
 " But I say unto you, that every idle word that 
 men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in 
 the day of judgment. Matthew xii, 36. By strain-
 
 26 
 
 ing the sense of this declaration of Jesus, commen- 
 tators lose all sight of those qualities of compassion 
 and love for the welfare of mankind, which so emi-. 
 nently distinguished his doctrines. " My yoke is 
 easy, and my burthen is light," is the benevolent 
 and consoling expression of our Divine Master* 
 Now, surely, to interpret literally the above de- 
 claration, must produce no other effect than that 
 of exciting horror and disgust towards the Christian 
 religion, in the minds of the dissolute, but enlight- 
 ened ; and of infusing scruples even among those 
 who are the least in danger of imbibing the poison 
 of infidelity. From the manner, indeed, in which 
 some have expounded this declaration, we might 
 even be led to infer, that it is sinful to talk of news., 
 rain, weather, or any of those indifferent matters, 
 which cannot be said to do either harm or good. 
 To such trifles, then, this awful menace of our Lord 
 was certainly not intended to apply. 
 
 The proper explanation of the subject we take to 
 be. this : That men should give an account, at the 
 day of judgment, of all the wicked and impious 
 words which they have spoken ; and that the Pha-
 
 27 
 
 risees especially should be answerable to God for 
 the blasphemies which they uttered against his mi- 
 racles. There is a passage of Plato, in his Treatise 
 de Fato, where he observes, " Grievous is the da- 
 mage of light and frivolous words." Now, by x8<pv, 
 tt 9 K r ivw Xoy.wv, the philosopher evidently means words 
 spoken against parents, or the defamation of persons 
 to whom a due reverence ought to be paid. The 
 KM ^v}ft, apyov can admit, then, of no other meaning, 
 than wicked, impious, scandalous, or false words. 
 Upon the same ground, therefore, that we object 
 to the literal interpretation of the above passage, 
 we must, likewise, enter our protest against those 
 who consider that the word /oo/, in the following 
 sentence, is to be received according to the mo- 
 dern acceptation of that word. " But whosoever 
 shall say, unto his brother, tkou fool! shall be 
 in danger of hell fire. Matthew v. 22. Since 
 the word fool, here, plainly signifies a profane 
 and wicked person, as is shewn in the Psalms : 
 *' The fool has said in his heart, there is no God.' 1 
 " Arise, O God, maintain thine own cause; re- 
 member how the foolish man blasphemeth thee 
 daily,"
 
 " For as Jonas was three days and three nights 
 in the whale's belly, so shall the Son of man be 
 three days and three nights in the heart of the 
 earth. Matthew xii. 40. The historical, as well 
 as the moral part of the New Testament, has been 
 alike exposed to the impotent attacks of the flagi- 
 tious. But, surely, those who raise objections 
 against the truth of these words, must be igno- 
 rant that the Jews used the phrase, three days 
 and three nights, to denote what we understand 
 by three days : " I will cause it to rain upon 
 the earth forty days and forty nights/' Genesis 
 vii. 4. " That Egyptian did eat no bread, nor 
 drink water, three days and three nights/* 1 Sa- 
 muel xxx. 12. '"Moses was in the Mount forty 
 days and forty nights/' Exodus xxiv. 18. Instead, 
 then, of saying three days and three nights, let us 
 simply say three days, and we think there will be 
 no more seeming defectiveness of the fact of Christ 
 being three days, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, in 
 the heart of the earth. We are not, however, to 
 be understood as saying, that he was in the grave 
 the whole of either Friday or Sunday, But Dr. 
 J^ightfoot and Grotius tell us, that it was a received
 
 29 
 
 rale among the Jews, that part of the day was put 
 for the whole ; so that, according to their computa- 
 tion, he might be truly said to have been in the 
 grave three days and three nights. 
 
 " The son of man goeth, as it is written of him, 
 but wo to that man by whom the Son of man is 
 betrayed ; it had been good for that man, if he 
 had not been born." Matthew xxvi. 24. Few 
 passages in the Gospel have produced a more infi- 
 nite variety of opinions than this one. Some have* 
 thought it incumbent upon them to believe* that 
 Judas was created for no other purpose but to be- 
 tray the Son of God, or, in other words, that it 
 was absolutely decreed, by the will of our Heavenly 
 Father, he should be as one of those vessels that 
 were made to wrath, before the foundations of the 
 world were laid. But they who refuse their assent 
 to this doctrine of absolute election and reprobation, 
 have, nevertheless, not dissembled the difficulty of 
 reconciling this prediction of our Lord, with the 
 common notions of divine mercy and justice. It 
 appears to us, that we should entertain a very erro- 
 neous idea of the divine ceconomy, in supposing
 
 that an antecedent necessity was imposed iipon 
 Judas, of betraying Christ, in consequence of his 
 having .foretold that event; For we cannot listen 
 with patience to the opinion, that a Being, as wise 
 and benevolent as he is omnipotent, should arbitra- 
 rily select one portion of the human race for eternal 
 happiness, and consign the other to eternal mi- 
 sery. 
 
 To reconcile, then, the above declaration with 
 the great fundamental doctrine of Scripture, that 
 the Son of man descended from Heaven to redeem 
 all mankind, we must deny> entirely, all partial 
 providence in God, and believe that he equally en- 
 abled Judas, as any other man born into the world, 
 to work out his salvation : but that, by his pre* 
 science, he foresaw he would not be obedient to his 
 laws. Upon no account, therefore, are we to con- 
 clude, that, because Judas betrayed his Master, he 
 had less free will than any other individual of the 
 human race. Nor are we, likewise, to view the 
 appointment of Judas to the apostleship as incom* 
 patible with that pre-eminent wisdom which cha- 
 racterised all the actions of our blessed Lord*
 
 Since, long before any intention was manifested by 
 Judas to betray him, Jesus fully exposed his real 
 character to the rest of his disciples, in these words : 
 *' Have I not chosen you twelve, and one of you 
 is a devil." John vi. 70. That is, one whose 
 conduct is actuated by the most base and inordinate 
 passions. 
 
 It has been, also, absurdly urged by the adversa- 
 ries of our. holy faith, that Judas was induced to 
 betray his Master, in consequence of having disco- 
 vered that he was an impostor. Or else, say they, 
 the consideration of his power and knowledge, as 
 the Son of God, would have terrified him from 
 doing it. But this futile objection is at once re- 
 futed, by the contrition which he afterwards ex- 
 pressed to the chief priests and elders. " I have sin- 
 ned/' was his confession to them, " in betraying in- 
 nocent blood." The true motive, then, which insti- 
 gated Judas to that act of perfidy, we take to be 
 the following : The Jewish nation, it is well known, 
 expected to see, in the person of their promised 
 deliverer, a powerful king, who should liberate them 
 from the galling yoke of the Romans ; and this opi-
 
 32 
 
 
 
 hi on was not confined to the rulers of the Jews, 
 but was as readily embraced by the disciples of out 
 Lord. So rooted) indeed, was this belief among 
 them, that we even see, not all the repeated avow- 
 als of Jesus to the contrary, could erase it from 
 their minds. To the impatience of Judas to parti- 
 cipate in the temporal honors and emoluments of 
 his Masters kingdom, we must solely ascribe his 
 .subsequent perfidy of conduct. For so far does he 
 seem to be carried away by the popular preposessions 
 respecting the character and office of the Messiah, 
 that, he did not doubt, upon his delivering Jesus 
 into the hands of the Sanhedrim, that he would 
 immediately assume the ensigns of temporal domi- 
 nion, and reward his adherents with an abundance 
 of riches, the expectation of which had first led him 
 to become one of his followers, for he was of a dis- 
 position so covetous, we find, as to steal money out 
 of the common bag. The disappointment, then, 
 of obtaining an object, which lay so near his heart* 
 together with the remorse which he really felt at 
 bringing his Master to an ignominious death, con- 
 curred, we may also suppose, in urging him to put 
 an end to his own existence.
 
 11 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a 
 loud voice> saying, Eli, Eli, lama Sabacthani ; that 
 is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou for- 
 saken me." Matth&a xxvii, 46. Various solu- 
 tions have been given of this tragic exclamation. 
 We shall select those which appear to us most en- 
 titled to notice, and leave our readers to draw their 
 own conclusions. It has pleased the enemies of 
 Christianity to insinuate, that the divine founder of 
 it, by the despondency which he shewed in the 
 garden of Gethsemane, on the approach of his trial 
 and death, and the words, which he uttered upon 
 the cross, evinced a want of manly fortitude, little 
 calculated to support the truth of those doctrines, 
 which he preached. In reply to these invidious 
 remarks, many learned men contend, that it was 
 not the fear of crucifixion, which so far overcame 
 Jesus, as to throw him into an agony and bloody 
 sweat, but his distress in the garden proceeded from 
 the lively sense which he, at that time, had of the 
 miseries of mankind, produced by sin ; and when 
 he cried out, " My God, My God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me," his anguish arose from the inconceiv- 
 able pains which were inflicted on him by the hand 
 
 D
 
 of God, on his making his soul an offering for sin. 
 Others, also, labour to prove, that the difficulty of 
 solving that expression, is occasioned from our con- 
 founding the Hypostatic union, or else we should 
 have perceived that the divine was, at that mo- 
 ment, so much lost or absorbed in his human na- 
 ture, as to make him feel a withdrawing of those 
 comforts, which hitherto had always filled his soul, 
 although it is extremely difficult for us to conceive 
 in what that agony consisted. 
 
 But, perhaps, the Evangelists themselves will 
 afford us a more clear idea of this subject, for, in 
 many, instances, we shall find that they are our 
 best commentators. From them we learn, that the 
 salvation of mankind was the momentous end for 
 which Jesus came into the world ; or, according to 
 the scriptural phrase, " to give his life as a ransom 
 for many." Upon this account, .therefore, his sor- 
 rows, observes a writer oY equal piety and judgment, 
 " were such as no other person in this life ever felt. 
 They arose from causes altogether singular, and 
 from circumstances peculiar to himself. Being of 
 this sort, they were no greater than the cause me-
 
 35 
 
 rited, and the expressions by which he uttered 
 them, are no argument of his pusillanimity or weak- 
 ness. They were suitable to his feelings, and ex- 
 pressed them as far as it was possible to make them 
 known. For it was agreeable to the councils of 
 God, and for the benefit of men, that the sorrows 
 which the Son of God felt in that hour, should be 
 -laid open to the view of the world."* 
 
 " And in the morning, as they passed by, they 
 saw the fig-tree dried up from the roots. And 
 Peter, calling to remembrance, said, Master, be-* 
 hold the" fig-tree, which thou cursedst, is withered 
 away." Mark xi* 20j 21. The cursing of the 
 fig-tree, like the destruction of the herd of swine, 
 has been represented, by the ill-wishers of Chris- 
 tianity, as conveying no moral lesson, and, in every 
 respect, unbecoming the character of the divine 
 teacher of mankind. In the first place, we must 
 observe* to curse the land or trees in the Hebrew 
 language, is simply to make or pronounce them un- 
 fruitful, as may be satisfactorily shewn in the fol- 
 
 * See the Truth of the Gospel History* by Macknight, 
 Book I. Chap. IV. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 
 
 lowing passage : " But which beareth thorns and 
 "briars is rejected, and is nigh unto cursing, whose 
 end is to be burned." Hebrews vi. 8. The suppo- 
 sition, then, of those persons, that Jesus, in cursing 
 the tree, uttered execrations against it, is as ill- 
 founded as it is impious. But why he cursed the 
 tree, that is, pronounced it unfruitful, was for the 
 purpose of instructing the spectators of this miracle, 
 that the Jews, a mere professing people, and who 
 were just like that leaf- tree, without fruit, were 
 to expect speedy destruction from him, if they per- 
 sisted in their unfruitfulness. 
 
 This short elucidation, by Dr. Hammond, we 
 prefer to the more elaborate ones of Whitby and 
 other commentators. 
 
 " If any mail come to me, and hate not his fa- 
 ther and mother, and wife and children, and brethren 
 and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he can- 
 not be my disciple." Luke xiv. 26. Every thing 
 in our religion, has undoubtedly a reference to a 
 future life. It is, therefore, the supreme concern, 
 of the pious believer, to please God in all his thoughts
 
 and actions. But surely, if we were compelled to 
 interpret literally this sentence, one would see just 
 cause .to object to the morality of the Gospel, and 
 its suitableness as well as to the government of man- 
 kind, as to the exercise of the best affections of our 
 nature. In those worcls, Jesus then could only be 
 considered as saying, that, if you do not prefer me 
 to those with whom you are bound in the dearest 
 domestic ties, if my doctrines are not able to draw 
 off your attention from the things of this world, 
 and to affix them on those above, you must not 
 hope to be ranked among the number of my disci- 
 ples. Perhaps, also, as the High Priest was a type 
 of our Lord, and \\e was to put off, according to 
 Philo* the Jew, all natural affection for his father 
 end mother, children, and brothers, if it interposed 
 with the service of God, Jesus might have looked 
 to that maxim, when he made the above declara- 
 tion. 
 
 " Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to 
 do with thee, mine hour is not yet come/' John 
 
 * See his Treatise de Monarch, P. 639.
 
 38 
 
 ii. 4. .This answer is particularized by some, as in- 
 consistent with that affectionate and dutiful respect, 
 which divines affirm, was uniformly shewn by Jesus 
 towards his parents. But it must proceed; from a 
 very ignorant interpretation of the word Woman, 
 to infer that our Lord, by the use of it to his mo- 
 ther, was, therefore, deficient in filial respect and 
 submission. For though that appellation now car- 
 ries an aspect of coarseness and vulgarity, yet, in 
 ancient times, it was applied to females the most 
 illustrious in rank and descent, as may be proved 
 in an hundred instances from the Greek writers. 
 There is something, therefore, more plausible in 
 the way which many apologize for Jesus calling 
 his mother, Woman, when they say, that he thus 
 addressed her, in order that she might remember 
 certain passages which must impress her with sen- 
 timents of the highest reverence towards him, oi| 
 account of his miraculous birth. Yet those who 
 offer this ^explanation, do surely forget, that our 
 Saviour used the above epithet in recommending 
 his mother on the cross, with the utmost filial ten-, 
 derness, to the care of his favourite disciple, " Wo- 
 ?w<m, behold thy son"
 
 39 
 
 " And he that was dead came forth, bound hand 
 and foot with grave-cloths, and his face was bound 
 about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, loose 
 him, and let him go." John xi. 44. Amid the 
 many strokes which have been aimed against the in- 
 vincible shield of Christianity, we are not surprised 
 that those who have attempted to bring the historical 
 part of it into discredit, should put this insulting ques- 
 tion upon the resurrection of Lazarus : How could 
 a man come out of his grave, who was bound hand 
 and foot ? That accurate and intelligent traveller, 
 Maundrell,* will, perhaps, assist us, in a great mea- 
 sure, to illustrate this very important question. 
 From him we learn, that the Jews did not, in gene- 
 ral, make use of 'coffins in burying their dead, but 
 placed the bodies in niches, cut into the sides of 
 caves or rooms, hewn out of rocks. We are not, 
 therefore, to understand St. John as saying that 
 Lazarus walked out of the sepulchre, but that, ex- 
 tended on his back in a niche, he raised himself in 
 a sitting posture, ancl then, putting his legs over 
 
 * See Description of the Sepulchre of the Kings, in his Tra 
 vels, p. 76.
 
 40 
 
 the edge of his niche or cell, slid down, and stood 
 upright on the floor. Now, it is very clear, that 
 this might be easily effected, notwithstanding his, 
 arms were pinioned, as it were, to his body, and, 
 his legs fastened together with the shroud and rol- 
 lers. The order, therefore, which Jesus gave, for 
 him to lie unbound, very naturally followed the per-^ 
 formance of this stupendous miracle. 
 
 "'And when he had thus said, he breathed on 
 them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy 
 Ghost." John xx. 22, These words, at the first 
 glance, have perplexed some, into whose minds the 
 awful truths of the Gospel have deeply sunk. Our 
 Lord, it is well known, always speaks of the Holy 
 Ghost as not being to come till he had risen from 
 the dead, an$ was exalted to the right hand of the 
 Father.. Yet, some day$ before that great; event had 
 taken place x he says to his disciples, " Receive ye 
 the Holy Ghost" This apparent difficulty may be 
 thus reconciled. It is very evident, in the first 
 place, that Christ was to bestow the gift of the 
 Holy Ghost upon his disciples, not in the character 
 of a prophet, but as the eternal Sovereign of the
 
 41 
 
 Church. The reason, therefore, of his saying, in 
 the present tense,. Receive ye the Holy Ghost, must 
 be taken in the prophetic style, as a thing they 
 should soon receive, as certainly as he breathed upon 
 them. In the same manner as he says, " This is 
 my body, whicfy is broken for you." " This is the 
 New Testament in my blood, which is shed for 
 you/' " Now is the Son of man glorified." 
 
 We have now briefly touched upon those injunc- 
 tions and actions of our Lord, to which such, whose 
 hearts and minds are under the influence of prepos- 
 session and prejudice against the Scriptures, and 
 such, whose religious doubts may be said to proceed 
 from want of information, have equally raised ob- 
 jections. The true Christian, however, will not 
 look upon the New Testament with less reverence, 
 because he cannot understand all its contents. He 
 knows that his life is a life of faith. To believe 
 only, then, that which is inducible to his reason, 
 Jie is aware, is not truth, but mere philosophy. 
 He, therefore, deems it as foolish, as it is presump- 
 tuous, to disbelieve what he cannot account for, 
 perfectly satisfied, that what materially con-
 
 42 
 
 cerns him to know, is so obvious and express, as 
 can be misunderstood by none, namely, that, by 
 the intervention of Jesus Christ, he, and all man- 
 kind, will obtain eternal happiness, if they love and 
 obey him.
 
 43 
 
 ESSAY III. 
 
 On the Difficulty of a Member of Parliament be- 
 
 t 
 
 longing to no Party, 
 
 JT EW questions, perhaps, have been more agitated 
 by the higher classes of politicians, than the possi- 
 bility of a Member of Parliament maintaining so 
 complete a state of independence, as to support or 
 
 Oppose no measure, but from principles the most im 
 partial and conscientious. But, though this be one 
 
 of those questions which can never be finally set at 
 rest, until one uniform opinion shall prevafl, re- 
 specting the nature and spirit of our constitution 
 (the best, with all its defects, that was ever formed 
 by human wisdom) ; yet, it may not be uninterest- 
 ing to enquire, what good consequences are likely 
 to result from a Representative of the people in 
 Parliament standing aloof from all political con- 
 nexions.
 
 44 
 
 We must, however, pre-suppose, in the first 
 place, that the member who chalks out for himself 
 this rare line of conduct, and invariably pursues it, 
 is gifted with those intellectual qualities, which at 
 once inspire confidence, and command admiration ; 
 or else his influence can be but little felt, in the 
 hoarse din of factions, however his private virtues, 
 may be deservedly the theme of general panegyric. 
 To be irresistibly impelled, by a love of justice and 
 regard for worth, into a contest against those, with 
 whom we have lived in habits of intimacy and 
 friendship, may be regarded, perhaps, as one of the 
 greatest efforts of patriotism. Such generous devo- 
 tion to the public service, is, indeed, so seldom 
 witnessed, that, when an orator seizes every oppor- 
 tunity to proclaim his resolution of upholding the 
 liberties of the people, and of acquiescing in no 
 measure, directly or indirectly, but such as is es- 
 sentially connected with the well-being of the state, 
 much less to enter, from party principles, into a sys- 
 tematic opposition to the measures of government, 
 we are apt to hear those protestations with a sneer 
 of derision, and to suspect, that he has no other 
 aim in promulging them, than the selfish, but
 
 45 
 
 Very natural one, of obtaining a place and emo- 
 lument. 
 
 He must give^ then, proofs the most undeniable, 
 that he is sincere and steadfast in his great under- 
 taking, before we can be even persuaded, that no 
 motive, but a firm conviction of the moral benefit 
 and commendable example he shall impart to others, 
 could have pricked him on to stand forth as a can- 
 didate for the illustrious title of a real patriot. And, 
 even when we are thoroughly satisfied, he will not 
 betray the hopes reposed on him, what dangers has 
 he to encounter, what passions to subdue, what in- 
 trigues to baffle, what temptations to withstand, 
 what factions to crush, and what scurrility, private 
 as well as public, to endure, in his political capacity, 
 before the extent of his herculean toil can be pro- 
 perly appreciated, and his reputation be commensu- 
 rate to it. No wonder, then, that men possessing 
 birth, fortune, talents of various kinds, and the 
 most spirited dispositions, should yet prefer the 
 shackles of party, to such a perilous and discou- 
 raging post of duty, as that unquestionably is, of 
 equally opposing the Court, and the people, when-
 
 46 
 
 ever the views of either are marked by injustice^ 
 The difficulties of sustaining the character of a tru6 
 patriot for any continuance of time, being- of such 
 complexion as to be almost regarded as next to im- 
 possible, let us proceed to form some estimate of 
 the general good likely to be Communicated, from a 
 man pursuing a line of conduct so worthy of the 
 
 most lasting veneration and gratitude* 
 
 - 
 
 If we could believe with those, whose furious 
 and indiscriminate zeal for a reform in Parliament, 
 has led them to go the unwarrantable length of assert^ 
 ing, that the House of Commons is entirely com- 
 posed of placemen , pensioners, and purchasers of 
 boroughs, it must be obvious, that a single voice, 
 h6wever eloquent and independent, could not pos- 
 sess the smallest weight in an assembly filled with 
 persons of their principles, and description* But 
 the fact, fortunately for us, is far from being so* 
 There are many, doubtless, in the House of Com- 
 mons, who suffer their interests to swerve them from 
 their duty; yet it is also as indisputable, that no 
 act of public rapacity, despotism, or infringement 
 upon the constitution, can be committed, but what
 
 some will be found in that assembly, to elevate 
 their voices against it, until the delinquent be 
 brought to the bar of offended justice* 
 
 When a member of parliament has succeeded * 
 then, in acquiring for himself the rare fame of form- 
 ing the most impartial judgment concerning the 
 real character and tendency of public measures, and* 
 consequently, of disdaining to be enlisted under 
 the banners of any faction, occasions may arise, 
 where such integrity and public-spiritedness will 
 produce effects the most important to the national 
 peace, prosperity, and happiness. For though it 
 may not be safe to lay it down as a position, with- 
 out much reserve and limitation, that an assembly 
 like that of the House of Commons, is often go- 
 verned by the impulse of one mind, unless the pos- 
 sessor of it held not, at the same time, the office 
 of prime minister : yet the memorable decision 
 passed there upon the slave trade, clearly demon- 
 strates to us, that one who was never called upon 
 to dispense the favours of the crown, was yet able, 
 from the firmly established opinion, that, in his 
 long public career, he did every thing according to
 
 principle, and nothing according to party, to st6p- 
 he progress of corruption in its worst of forms, and 
 to retrieve the character of the nation, by exalting 
 the hitherto persecuted and enslaved Africans, into 
 
 the scale of free and rational beings^ 
 
 ' 
 
 In another point of view, the character of the 
 member of parliament, who equally enjoys the re* 
 spect of the government and the confidence of the 
 public, may be contemplated, as operating upon the 
 spirit of the latter, and giving it a right direction, 
 where otherwise it would have slept, or been crushed. 
 When a king wishes to enlarge the prerogative, or 
 a minister covets a power, which the constitution 
 denies him, the good effects, then, of that happy 
 confidence, will be more extensive, than it may 
 be, perhaps, at first conceived* Should the House 
 of Commons defeat the great purposes of its re* 
 presentation, by manifesting no other virtue than 
 pliability, no other policy than self-interest, the 
 true patriot will never sit down satisfied, until he 
 has succeeded in untblding to the public eye all 
 those secret ministerial springs, whereby so many 
 free agents are converted into mere machines, of
 
 into mutes, whose sole and degrading office is, to 
 stand like a drove of oxen, to be counted on a divi- 
 sion. But to undo link by link, and open spring 
 by spring, is an operation of such nice and delicate 
 nature, as can only be completely executed by the 
 hand of the master workman. That, then, accom- 
 plished, the people are prepared to enforce by prac- 
 tice, the principles which have been so strongly 
 impressed on their minds. They are awakened to a 
 strict attention to the conduct of their representa- 
 tives ; and all the substantial checks which they can 
 employ, are put in use, to bring back the constitu- 
 tion to its true principles ; nor do they ever cease 
 persevering, when thus their spirit and intelligence 
 are called forth, until they have perfectly attained 
 their ends. By such means, a whole nation has 
 been, and may be again, moved and animated by 
 one individual. Thus, has the column of public 
 freedom been made to stand upon a firmer basis, 
 when its superstructure was, perhaps, on the point 
 of being diminished. 
 
 The man, who so essentially contributes to pro- 
 mote the happiness, and to secure the liberties of 
 

 
 50 
 
 his fellow citizens, without having the wish or 
 hope to obtain the seals of office, will not, how- 
 ever, be so intoxicated with the general applause 
 and admiration which, under such circumstances, 
 must accompany his footsteps, as to sacrifice that 
 high respect and gratitude he has gained in the 
 breasts of sober and reflecting minds, to the vain 
 and precarious favour of the multitude ; but, on 
 the contrary, will still remain inspired, as he was 
 before, with the same real love of true glory, and 
 with the same real dislike of popular fame. " Est 
 enim gloria, sotida qu&dam res exprcssa non adum- 
 brata ; ea est comentiens laits bonorum, incor- 
 rupta vox bene judicantium de excellente virtute. 
 E^i virtuti resonat tanquam imago glortte. Qute 
 quiet recte factotum plerumque comes est, non est bonis 
 viris repudianda. Ilia autem (pice se cjus imita- 
 tricem esse vult^ temeraria atque inconiidprata, et 
 plerumqne peccatorum vitwrumque laudatrix fama 
 popularis, simidatione honestatis, formam ejits pul- 
 chritudenemque corrumpit.' y * 
 
 * Cicero Tuscul. Qust. Lib. III.
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 , 
 
 On the Condition and Character of Women in 
 different Countries and, Ages, 
 
 IF the enlightened among our sex have rejoiced 
 that they were born in a period of high civilization, 
 how much greater cause have those of the other, 
 'to congratulate themselves upon the same event* 
 Since, in polished nations, it is rarely the hard fate 
 of women to be first adored, and then oppressed* 
 We do not begin by being their slaves, and end in 
 becoming their tyrants. For when the transient 
 charms of youth and beauty fade, in the place of 
 our idols, we then make them our companions and 
 friends. 
 
 V - 
 
 In rude periods of society, woman is treated with 
 the utmost coolness, indifference, contempt, and 
 tyranny. The savage regards her only as a being of 
 
 E2
 
 inferior species, and, consequently, with him, the 
 passion of love is nothing but a simple instinct of 
 nature; which he disdains, however, to procure by 
 any of those arts, which are calculated to win af- 
 fection and favour. It is the opinion of the great 
 Bacon, that love is the first of human pleasures, 
 and intoxication the second. The justness of this 
 observation is disputed by the Indians of America ; 
 according to whose philosophy, intoxication is the 
 greatest of human pleasures. It may be advanced, 
 as another proof of the contempt and servitude in 
 which women are held by savages, that, in their 
 drunken assemblies, they are allowed to be present 
 at them only for the menial and degrading purpose 
 of supplying the liquor, and taking care of their 
 sovereigns, when their reason is extinguished. 
 Among the American tribes, the condition of wo- 
 men may be compared, indeed, to that of the He- 
 lotes among the Spartans, a vanquished race, doom- 
 ed to pass their whole life in administering to the 
 wants of their conquerors. The rigorous despotism 
 exercised by barbarians over the female sex, will be 
 found to constitute their general character, in almost 
 every quarter of the globe.
 
 If we turn our eyes towards the eastern nations, 
 to Turkey, Persia, Mogul, Japan, and the empire 
 of China, we shall see women reduced to the same 
 state of slavery. Asia, from time immemorial, may 
 be regarded as a vast and dreary prison, for the re- 
 ception of female beauty. The cursed spirit of des- 
 potism is, indeed, as fatal to love, as to virtue. 
 Exposed to all the caprices of a master, who looks 
 upon female beauty as subservient to the purposes 
 of animal enjoyment only ; the will of the unhappy 
 object of his lust must be his ; since resistance in 
 the harem would be fatal, and flight from it impos- 
 sible. 
 
 Plutarch, in speaking of the Persians, has noticed 
 the severe treatment of their wives, in such terms, 
 as would justify us in concluding it equally met 
 his disapprobation and that of his countrymen ; but 
 the domestic institutions of the Greeks inform us, 
 that the notions they entertained of the female cha- 
 racter were scarcely more just and liberal than those 
 whom the philosopher of Cheroncea styles barbari- 
 ans. The Greek, like the Persian women, were 
 excluded from society, and shut up in sequestered
 
 .54 
 
 apartments, which, when they left to go abroad, an 
 indulgence but rarely granted, their taces were co- 
 vered by veils ; while, upon no occasion whatsoever, 
 were they permitted to appear at public entertain- 
 ments, The wives who had been prolific, expe- 
 rienced, perhaps, a greater portion of liberty than 
 that which fell to the share of the new-married W T O- 
 man, and the virgin ; yet stUl they had just reason 
 to complain of the bolts and bars placed in their 
 chambers by the jealousy or tyrarmy of their lords.* 
 The possibility, however, of escaping from the hands 
 of their oppressors, was presented to them by a di- 
 vorce : but that could not be effected without the 
 consent of both parties. In this manner, the wife 
 of Pericles gained her freedom, f 
 
 There was a wide contrast, however, in the con- 
 dition of the Athenian, and their neighbours, the 
 
 KM 
 EJ /*#?, Hat Trpoorfli 
 
 See Aristophanes Commaediae Theomophor, 
 f See Plutarch in Vita Pencils.
 
 Lacedaemonian women. The laws of Lycurgus did 
 not establish such a cruel distinction between the 
 sexes, as existed in those of Solon ; for they autho- 
 rized women to quit that privacy which Pericles* 
 deemed so essential to the preservation of their 
 character, and to frequent solemn festivals and sa- 
 crifices. In their fashions, too, we may espy the 
 same difference, as in their manners. The Lace- 
 daemonian virgins went abroad with their faces un- 
 covered, while the married women invariably ap- 
 peared with their veils. This custom was defended 
 on the very natural and justifiable principle of the 
 former, wishing to get husbands, and of the latter 
 to keep those which they already possessed. But 
 many will be inclined to think, that their practice 
 of dancing naked, at those entertainments, before a 
 concourse of male spectators, was well miited to en- 
 courage a general state of promiscuous intercourse 
 between the sexes. It does, however, appear, that 
 while the Spartans continued to pay that profound 
 
 veneration to the statutes of their celebrated law- 
 
 \ 
 giver, as to fulfil them without hesitation or reserve, 
 
 * See his Speech in Thucydides, Lib. II.
 
 56 
 
 adultery was a crime so rare among them, that no 
 punishment was assigned for it:* but when the stern 
 virtues of their ancestors were no longer inscribed 
 upon their minds, or actions, the licentiousness of 
 the women arose to such an extravagant pitch, that 
 they were even stigmatized by writers with the epi- 
 
 thet vJp0/X#Vf<V. J" 
 
 In surveying the condition of women in the states 
 of Greece, especially in Athens, our attention can- 
 not fail to be arrested by the pomp and splendour 
 
 * In Plutarch, the judge and panegyrist of so many illustrious 
 men, we read that Geradas, a primitive Spartan, being asked by 
 a stranger what punishment their law had for an adulterer, re- 
 plied, that it would be just as possible to find one in Sparta, as 
 it would be to meet with a bull, whose neck should be so long 
 as to reach over the mountain Taygetas, and drink of the river 
 Eurotas, that lay on the other side. See Vita Lycurg. From 
 this speech, we are not, then, of course, to suppose the invi- 
 tations which the Spartans were accustomed to give to hand- 
 some men, to share the favour of their wives, from the patriotic 
 principle of supplying the state with a robust progeny, are to be 
 ranked under the name of adultery. 
 
 t This term, which may be interpreted, running mad after 
 men, strongly paints the unbounded laciviousness of the Spartan 
 women. It was given them by Euripides, and is cited by Plu- 
 tarch in his Vita Numas.
 
 67 
 
 assumed by the courtezans, and the honours tt 
 which they openly aspired, and which they receiver 
 While the married females, as we have already 
 
 V 
 
 shewn, were subjected to the most mortifying in- 
 feriority, and esteemed only worthy to perform the 
 meanest functions of domestic ceconomy. Various 
 causes have been suggested to account for that cu- 
 rious and important fact ; but the following, perhaps, 
 will be admitted by the philosopher as the most 
 satisfactory and conclusive. 
 
 It is well known, that in many of the Greek co- 
 lonies of Asia, temples were erected to Venus, in 
 which voluptuousness and superstition equally con- 
 curred, not only to protect harlots, but even to 
 raise them to the rank of priestesses of that meri- 
 tricious divinity. In Grecian story, the people of 
 Corinth were noted even to a proverb, for indulging 
 their sensual passions without reserve ; and that city 
 was the first which introduced a colony of those as- 
 piring females from the East. We are told by an 
 historian,* whose authority is deservedly of great 
 
 * See Strabo, Lib. VJH.
 
 58 
 
 weight, that Corinth could number at a time a 
 thousand females, who prostituted their charms fox* 
 hire* in the temple of the goddess of beauty. 
 Upon the efficacy of their prayers to Venus, these 
 strumpets seemed to place the firmest reliance ; for 
 they had recourse to them in every situation of dif- 
 ficulty and danger. Miltiades and Themistocles 
 were even supposed to have become the saviours 
 of Greece, because these votaries of lust had in- 
 voked their tutularyf deity for the success of their 
 armies. 
 
 * Ov vavros avfyof t$ KopiySov s&oVtej. This proverb, so 
 common in Greece, which Horace has thus translated, " Non 
 cuivis hominum contingit adire Corinthum," is generally sup- 
 posed to have taken its rise from some of these harlots admitting 
 none to their embraces, but those who could afford to pay the 
 most exorbitant price. It is recorded, that Demosthenes visited 
 Corinth for the express purpose of passing a night with the fa- 
 mous strumpet Lais : but the enormous tax which she exacted 
 for that pleasure, ten thousand drachmas, in our money about 
 three hundred pounds, produced this exclamation from the mouth 
 of the orator, aj uv/Mtiy pupiuv ()f>ax,u,uv p-sta, (UEXsiav. See Au- 
 lusGellius, Noctes Atticae, Lib. I. Cap. VIII. 
 
 f The magistrates of that republic even ordered their portraits 
 to be painted at the public expence, in gratitude for their power- 
 ful intercessions. See A^hepajus Deipnosophistae, Lib. XIII.
 
 This class of women were even associated to re- 
 ligion, by the arts. The famous Phryne, who had 
 amassed such a treasure by the free use of her cap- 
 tivating person, as to have proposed taking upon 
 herself the whole expence of- re-building* the walls 
 of Thebes, which had been demolished by Alex- 
 ander, served as a model to the great masters of 
 sculpture and painting, Praxiteles and Apelles, for 
 their most unrivalled productions. Her exquisite 
 beauty is said to have inspired the former with the 
 idea of his Cnidian Venus, so rapturously extolled 
 by Lucian,f and for the possession of which, Ni- 
 comedes, king of Bithynia, in vain offered to dis- 
 charge the immense debts of that republic. J And 
 the celebrated picture of Venus Anadyomene, which 
 adorned the temple of ^Esculapius, in the island of 
 
 * Provided, however, that the following unparalleled inscrip- 
 tion was placed on them ; Alexander dirutt, sed meretrix Pkrynt 
 refecit; but it was refased See Pliny, Lib. XXXIV. Cap. VIII. 
 Lib. XXXVII. Cap.V. 
 
 f See Lucian. De Amor. 
 
 See Pausanias, Lib. I. Cap. XL. Lib. VIII. Cap. IX. 
 and Pliny, Lib. VII. Cap. XXXIV.
 
 60 
 
 Cos,* was undertaken by the latter, from having 
 seen Phryne on the sea-shore, with no other coyer- 
 ing than her long and floating tresses. The greater 
 part of the courtezans were likewise musicians ; and 
 an art so much admired in Greece, and so well 
 adapted to inflame ,and nourish every voluptuous 
 passion, and, consequently, so deeply connected 
 with their own interests and fame, we can readily 
 believe their skill to have been prodigious. 
 
 It is also known, how grateful the sight of beauty 
 was to the Greeks ; and how often they were the 
 dupes and instruments of it in their military and 
 civil transactions. Enthusiastic in all their feelings, 
 the ardent souls and inflamable imaginations of this 
 people, adored beauty in the temples, admired it in 
 master-pieces of the arts, contemplated it in the 
 games and exercises, and gave prizes to it in the pub- 
 lic festivals. But the restraint and seclusion in which 
 
 * The supposed place where Apelles was born. But Au- 
 gustus afterwards obtained this incomparable painting, and remit- 
 ted to the inhabitants as an equivalent for it, the sum of three hun- 
 dred talents, upon the tribute which they owed to his exchequer. 
 " 4>a<n 5e TOIJ KWOJJ avn THJ ypa$j)$ exarov TaAarrov af fcriv ytvtQat TX 
 ee Strabo, Lib. XIV.
 
 61 
 
 the married women, especially among the Athenians, 
 were kept, and the incessant toil and drudgery to 
 which they were exposed, extinguished in them all 
 solicitude to set off whatever natural beauty they 
 possessed to the greatest advantage. That homage, 
 therefore, which they ought, and would have re- 
 ceived, if they had not been- excluded by the law, 
 from cultivating a refinement of taste and manners, 
 by mixing in society,* was necessarily engrossed by 
 the courtezans, who, fettered by no occupations of 
 that kind, were left at full leisure to study every 
 captivating variety of dress, and to heighten the 
 effect of their personal charms by a display of all 
 those accomplishments, which can engage and de- 
 light. The courtezans of Athens lived in a public 
 manner ; and to their entertainments, orators, phi- 
 losophers, and poets, and all who were eminent in 
 any department of art or science, constantly re- 
 paired, for the sake of those qualities, that were 
 so attractive and pleasant in the scene of diversion, 
 and private society. Thus they imparted to the 
 
 * Except for the purpose of attending a procession or a fune- 
 ral, (see Lysias Orationes, p. 420) they were scarcely ever per- 
 mitted to appear abroad, as we have before observed. N
 
 62 
 
 men of letters, an elegance of manners, a playful- 
 ness of wit, and turn of pleasantry delicately iron- 
 ical, while they, in return, by occasionally frequent- 
 ing their schools, gained from them an elevation and 
 enlargement of mind*, which rendered their conver- 
 sation brilliant in the highest degree, 
 : 
 
 Among this meritricious class, there was one 
 who- acquired such an ascendancy over superior 
 minds, as even to become the object of public 
 consideration. The name of the celebrated Aspa- 
 sia, the mistress of Pericles will here, doubtless, 
 present itself to the recollection of the classical 
 reader. She is said to have been born at Miletus ; 
 and such was the combination of extraordinary en- 
 dowments found in her, that the historians who 
 have recorded her praises, seem to be undetermined 
 whether she most excelled in her person or in her 
 mind. The grave and enlightened Socrates was 
 mute and attentive when she spoke ; and Pericles 
 placed such confidence in her judgment,, as to con- 
 sult her on all state matters of great moment. 
 Plato,, whose character for sagacity and political 
 knowledge was equalled by few, and surpassed by
 
 65 
 
 none, of his contemporaries, hesitates not to pay 
 her the remarkable compliment of saying, that her 
 instructions contributed powerfully to form the 
 greatest and most eloquent orators of her age;* 
 While Plutarch,f although inclined to consider her 
 as the author of the Peloponnesian war, and to 
 stigmatize her licentiousness with a manly indigna- 
 tion, yet relates, as an indisputable proof Of her 
 deep skill in the science of -politics, that one Lysi- 
 des, by attaching himself to her society, after th'e 
 death of Pericles, arose from the meanest origin and 
 education to the first employment in the republic. 
 So various and splendid, indeed, were her attain- 
 ments, that they seem to have communicated a de- 
 gree of glory to her profligate profession. Yet, we 
 cannot help thinking, there is too much exaggera- 
 tion in the remark, that her example and instruc- 
 tion rendered Athens the school of vice and plea- 
 sure, when it is stated, at the same time, to have 
 been the custom for husbands to cariy their wives 
 to her house, to be instructed by her discourses ; 
 
 * Sec Harpocration voce Aspasia. Plato in Menexeno. 
 t See Vita Pencils.
 
 64 
 
 although they were perfectly aware, it was not 
 less a seminary for prostitution than for oratory.* 
 They, therefore, who could treat their wives with 
 such unprecedented indelicacy and disrespect, must 
 surely be considered, by all impartial judges, to 
 complain with a very ill grace of the dissoluteness 
 of Aspasia and her companions. 
 
 These reasons will serve to account for the ho- 
 mages which courtezans so often received in Greece. 
 Without them, we should indeed, but darkly compre- 
 hend why they become the objects of such excessive 
 admiration to orators, philosophers, poets, painters, 
 and statuaries. Why Phryne had a statue of gold 
 at Delphi, placed between the statues of two kings, 
 and why some of them, after their death, should be 
 
 * Upon this circumstance, which is so singular that we safely 
 pronounce it to be without parallel in the history of any other 
 people of antiquity, Plutarch expresses himself in the clearest 
 terms : ' Tajyvvaixaf axpoaa-opsvag ot <rw&ei( ijyov EJ$ avrw, xai 
 Tfep 8 KOfffuu TrpoeZaCav epYcttrias, x$e <7/*wif aXXa 9rau3crxaf ETaipa<raf 
 TptQxcrctv" See Vita Periclis. The latter part of this assertion is 
 confirmed by Athenaeus : Kai A<r7ra<ricc #e jj 'LuKpatiitn evsTropsuslo 
 HO&UV yvvcuxwv KOU txXnQwsv OTTO ruv Tai/rw; tratcitiuv n 
 
 I 
 
 ^." Lib. XIII. p. 570.
 
 63 
 
 honoured with splendid monuments. The travel- 
 ler, in his approach to Athens, says an eminent 
 Greek writer, Dicaearchus, beholds afar off a mau- 
 soleum on the side of the road, which attracts his 
 attention. He conceives it to be the tomb of Mil- 
 tiades or of Pericles, or of some other illustrious 
 character who has served his country. He at length 
 draws near to it, and finds it to be a courtezan of 
 Athens, who is interred with such pomp; And 
 in a letter to Alexander, Theopompus, speaking of 
 this same mausoleum, emphatically observes, ." This 
 distinguished mark of public respect a courtezan 
 has received, while of all those who perished in 
 Asia, fighting for the general safety of Greece, there 
 is not one whose ashes have received, or even been 
 thought worthy to receive, a similar honour."* 
 Such was the senseless extravagance, inconsistency, 
 degeneracy, and ingratitude of the Athenians. But 
 these traits were perfectly accordant with the cha* 
 racter of a people, who could banish Themistocles, 
 starve Aristides, poison Socrates, prefer the licen- 
 tious buffoonery of Aristophanes to the sublime and 
 
 * Apud Athenseurm
 
 66 
 
 pathetic compositions of Sophocles and Euripides ; 
 reverence the sanctity of marriage, and yet suffer 
 themselves to be governed by Aspasia, and her 
 school of harlots. 
 
 The condition of the Roman, was, unquestion- 
 ably, not so grievous as that of the Grecian women. 
 The former were not excluded, like the latter, from 
 all social intercourse ; nor could they complain of 
 their behaviour being so attentively watched, or so 
 severely scrutinized. Yet among the primitive 
 Romans, the matrimonial contract was most un- 
 equal on the side of the woman, and can only be 
 regarded in the degrading light of the conjunction 
 of a master with a slave.* For the stern spirit of 
 the laws gave them the right of life and death over 
 their helpless partners ; and in the cases of adultery 
 
 or intoxication, -f the husband, on consulting with 
 
 i 
 
 * See Aulus Gellius, Lib. X. Cap. XXIII. 
 
 f The same fatal penalty might be inflicted if she even tasted 
 wine without his knowledge. Non licebat vinum faeminis Ro- 
 manis bibere invenimus inter exempla Egnatii Mezennii uxorem 
 quod vinum bibisset a dolio interfectam furte enim caedis a Ro- 
 mulo absdutum. See Pliny, Lib. XIV. Cap. XIV. Their 
 notion was, that the use of wine provoked amorous passions.
 
 67 
 
 his friends, might, if he pleased, carry the sentence 
 into execution. Of the coldness and insensibility 
 of the Romans towards their wives, or at least of 
 the grossness of their love, a remarkable proof may 
 be cited in the following declaration, which Metel- 
 lus Numidius made to the Roman people, that, if 
 kind nature had enabled us to do without a wife, 
 we should be delivered from a very troublesome 
 companion : but, since she had so ordered it, that 
 we could neither live with our wives happily enough, 
 nor without them by any means, we must look to 
 matrimony rather for our lasting security, than for a 
 transient gratification.* 
 
 Yet still, however, instances can be adduced to 
 shew, that the Romans, in the period under review, 
 treated their wives with some degree of esteem and 
 confidence. Ignorant of arts and pleasures, war 
 and labour were then the chief amusements of a 
 Roman. But after his dangers and toils, he dis- 
 dained not to partake with his wife in all the cares 
 
 * See Aulus Gellius, Lib. I. Cap. VI.
 
 68 
 
 of domestic life ;* and next in estimation to the 
 glory of being honoured by the state for his valour, 
 were the praises it drew from her lips. Nothing, 
 indeed, seems to have been omitted that could in- 
 spire the women with a love of virtue and modesty, 
 or indispose them to copy the grave and austere 
 manners of their husbands. A perpetual tutelage, 
 the .censure of magistrates, the domestic tribunals, 
 the laws to prevent their luxury, by the regulation 
 of marriage portions, the sumptuary laws for their 
 ornaments, the temples erected to chastity, the 
 
 temples to the goddess who presided over the peace 
 
 i 
 of marriages, and the appeasement of husbands,f 
 
 and the honourable decrees for the services which, 
 women rendered to the state ; all these circum- 
 stances evince the deep interest which the Romans 
 manifested in their wives, and in the preservation of 
 their morals. 
 
 * See the Fourteenth Satire of Juvenal, v. 166 171, for a 
 short but lively picture of the simplicity and domestic happiness 
 of the ancient Romans. 
 
 f" It is justly observed by Gibbon, in his Decline and Fall of 
 the Roman Empire, vol. viii. octavo edit. p. 65, that the epithet 
 of viriplaca too clearly indicates on which side, submission and 
 repentance were always to be expected.
 
 69 
 
 The Roman women did not exhibit that ferocious 
 courage upon which Plutarch has past such high 
 encomiums, in recording the acts of certain Grecian 
 females. Their first virtue was chastity, and their 
 point of honour, decency. It is well known, that 
 Cato the censor, expelled a senator for having 
 kissed his wife in the presence of his daughter. To 
 these austere manners, the Roman women united 
 an unbounded love for their country, which appeared 
 on many striking occasions. Upon the death of 
 Brutus, they clad themselves in deep mourning. 
 And had they not supplicated, Rome itself would 
 have been sacrificed to the stern vengeance of Corlb- 
 lanus. The senate testified their gratitude by a public 
 decree, which assigned to them the exclusive merit of 
 saving their country. In the time of Brenntis, their pa- 
 triotism was also conspicuous, in giving all their gold 
 for the ransom of the city. And after the fatal battle 
 of Cannae, when Rome had no other treasures left but 
 the virtues of her citizens, they again consecrated their 
 most precious ornaments to the service of the state.* 
 
 * An action which appeared so praise-worthy in the eyes of 
 their countrymen, that from thenceforth it was permitted, by a 
 law, to pronounce public orations in honour of the deceased 
 person, which, till that time, was peculiar to men.
 
 Such examples of public virtue, on the part of 
 the Roman women, doubtless, contributed to raise 
 them in the estimation of their husbands. But 
 these facts are not sufficient to justify the hasty 
 conclusions of some writers, that the marriage con- 
 tract among the Romans must be considered in the 
 light of an union of affection as well as of interest 
 between equals, and that, therefore, all the blessings 
 and comforts of domestic love were enjoyed by both 
 parties. In further support of this conclusion, we 
 are not ignorant, that they quote the fact of no Ro- 
 man exercising his privilege of divorce* for the long 
 space of five hundred and twenty years ; f and that 
 Spurius Carvilius Ruga, the first person who availed 
 himself of that right, incurred the hatred of his 
 countrymen, But when it is recollected, that the 
 law gave the husband a title to treat his wife with 
 cruelty and tyranny, and upon this account, she 
 carefully avoided affording him any subject for com- 
 
 * Plutarch tells us, that Romulus allowed a husband to divorce 
 his wife, if she had committed adultery, prepared poison, or pro- 
 cured false keys, 
 
 f According to Dionysius Halicarnassensis, Lib. II. P. 93, 
 and Valerius Maximus, Lib. II. Cap. I.; and five hundred and 
 twenty-three, according to Aulus Gellius, Lib. IV. Cap. III.
 
 71 
 
 plaint, because she was entirely in his power, we 
 are not, surely, therefore, to interpret his forbear- 
 ing to dissolve the union, into a proof of his pas- 
 sionate fondness, or unfeigned respect for her. We 
 likewise presume to think, that five centuries did 
 not elapse without producing one instance of divorce 
 among the Romans. For it does appear, that the 
 idea of divorce was not altogether unknown even in 
 the time of Coriolanus, as may be inferred from 
 his advice to his wife, when he went into banish- 
 ment, to marry a man more fortunate than himself. 
 And with respect to the disgrace into which Carvi- 
 lius fell with the people, for dismissing his wife, we 
 are not to place their disapprobation to the injustice 
 of that act, but to his having divorced her by the 
 desire of the censors, on account of barrenness, to 
 whose interference they, upon occasions of this 
 kind, always evinced the utmost dread and repug- 
 nance.* 
 
 The custom, also, of lending a wife to a friend, 
 in order that he might have children by her, at once 
 
 * Montesquieu has ably examined and elucidated this subject* 
 in his Esprit des Loix, Lib. XVI. Cap. XVI.
 
 72 
 
 demonstrates the impurity of manners among the 
 Romans, and the small respect and regard which 
 they entertained for the female sex. And this prac- 
 tice, which appears to have prevailed among the 
 old Romans,* was openly countenanced by the 
 younger Cato. According to Plutarch, the great 
 orator Hortensius, for the purpose of drawing still 
 closer the ties of friendship and intimacy which al- 
 ready existed between him and Cato, applied, in 
 the first place, to have the use of his daughter 
 Porcia, the wife of Bibulus. But this proposal not 
 being relished by Cato, on the ground of its being 
 the husband's affair, Hortensius had the modest 
 assurance to ask his friend for his own wife Marcra, 
 
 * We learn from. Plutarch, in his comparison of Numa and 
 Lycurgus, that the former legislator permitted a Roman husband, 
 after his wife had brought him a sufficient number of children, 
 either, to make her over to any person who wished to have a fami-r 
 ly, or to lend her out for a certain time. This last practice was 
 also common among the Greeks. It is well known that Alcibi- 
 ades enjoyed the person of Xantippe, by the permission of Socra- 
 tes, her husband. And, in this instance, no symptoms of her 
 refractory temper are said to have been discovered by the philoso- 
 pher. The classical reader will also remember, that Plato him- 
 self, whose system of ethics *is, perhaps, more perfect than any 
 other heathen moralist, has yet prescribed a community of wives 
 in his plan of a perfect commonwealth.
 
 73 
 
 who then happened to be in a state of pregnancy. 
 When, so far from expressing the least anger or 
 displeasure at this unparalleled request, Cato turned 
 a willing ear to it, and, by consent of Phillippus, 
 the father of Marcia, whose interference, in a legal 
 point of view, was necessary, Hortensius thus ob- 
 tained possession of her person.* 
 
 This anecdote, recorded of one of the gravest 
 and most virtuous citizens ever produced by the re- 
 public of Rome, may be adduced as an incontesti- 
 ble evidence of the unworthyj* treatment to which 
 women, even of the highest rank and character, 
 were exposed ; and will warrant the assumption, 
 that although the laws and public institutions af- 
 fected to respect the sanctity of marriage, and to 
 look upon women as the objects of rational esteem 
 
 * See a full account of this transaction, so offensive to modern 
 fcelings and delicacy, in Plutarch, Vita Catonis. 
 
 t The astonishing fact, mentioned by Livy, Lib. VIII. Cap. 
 XVIII. of one hundred and ninety noble matrons being convicted 
 of the crime of poisoning their husbands, should teach some 
 writers to be less peremptory in their assertions respecting the 
 matrimonial happiness of the women in the early days of the 
 . commonwealth.
 
 74 
 
 and attachment, yet the Romans are the last people 
 among the nations of antiquity, who can, with pro- 
 priety, be said to exhibit a pleasing spectacle of 
 delicacy and morality, in their conjugal passions or 
 agreements. 
 
 But, about the end of the commonwealth, a re- 
 markable change took place in the condition, taste, 
 and sentiments, of the Roman women. The im- 
 mense wealth which the conquest of so many 
 opulent nations poured into the capital of the 
 empire, paved the way for the appearance of every 
 species of luxury and vice, among both sexes. 
 Women then began to emerge from their domestic 
 confinement, and to shake off the weight of the 
 
 matrimonial yoke. New wants and new passions 
 
 * 
 filled their souls: and the loss of reputation, 
 
 when subservient to the means of promoting their 
 power, and gratifying their love of distinction, never 
 occasioned a painful emotion, much less marred 
 their general felicity. At the slightest offence, the 
 nuptial knot might then be untied by either of the 
 parties. Such, indeed, was the facility of separa- 
 tion, that marriage could only be viewed in the
 
 degrading light of a transient connection, formed upon 
 the convenient basis of mutual pleasure and profit. 
 Even those who aspired to be contemplated by the 
 people as models of purity and virtue, hesitated 
 not to indulge themselves in the unlimited freedom 
 of divorce. Marcus Brutus repudiated his wife 
 Claudia, although her fidelity was unquestionable. 
 Cicero acted in the same manner by his wife Teren* 
 tia, with whom he had lived for thirty years ;* and 
 we are told, it was afterwards her miserable or happy 
 lot to receive the embraces of three successive hus- 
 bands ; the first of whom was the historian Sallust, 
 who from that time is said to have declared himself 
 the implacable enemy of Cicero.*f This species of 
 legal prostitution, for well does the nature of the 
 marriage union of the Romans, at this period, merit 
 such an appellation, must have prompted Julius 
 
 * In extenuation, however, of this apparently ungenerous 
 treatment, it must be remembered, that she was suspected of 
 having violated the honor of his bed, during his exile in Asia. 
 
 f From what cause we are at a loss to determine ; but it is 
 certain that his veracity as an historian is justly impeached, for 
 omitting several actions, in his relation of Cataline's conspiracy, 
 which reflected the highest honour upon the first husband of Te- 
 rcntia.
 
 76 
 
 Caesar to meditate that licentious law, which was 
 to have granted to him the exclusive liberty of pos- 
 sessing a seraglio of wives.* In short, it might be 
 reasonably supposed, that the Romans of both sexes 
 had then attained the highest pitch of debauchery, 
 if we could cease to forget the scenes of unbounded 
 luxury and lust displayed after the establishment of 
 monarchy. 
 
 Under the emperors, the great inequality of ranks v 
 the outrageous abuse of riches, the' ridicule attached 
 to every law of decency and morality, and the un- 
 governable fury with which the higher orders of 
 women alike abandoned themselves to their cruel 
 and sensual passions, and the frequent practice of 
 the most unnatural vices and crimes, could not fail 
 to bring on the maturity of depravation. We may 
 conceive at once the perfection of vice to which the 
 women had arrived, even in the time of Augustus, 
 and the secret contempt and disgust with which they 
 
 * Helvius Cinna Trib. pleb. plerisque confessus est, habuisse 
 scriptam paratamque legem, quam Cassar ferre jussisset, cum 
 ipse abesset, uti uxores liberores quaerendorum causa, quas et quqt 
 vellet ducere liberet. Suetonius, in Julio, Cap. ill.
 
 77 
 
 V 
 
 had inspired those who participated in their favours* 
 from that remarkable declaration in the speech* 
 which he made to press the Romans to marriage. 
 That the rewards which he had offered to induce 
 them to resign their fondness foi a life of celibacy, 
 were of such a magnitude, that 'thousands would 
 be happy to hazard their lives in the prospect of 
 attaining them ; yet for those rewards, when of- 
 fered as incentives to marriage, none would step 
 forth to receive them. Armed, however, as 
 Augustus was, with despotic power, yet, after a 
 long struggle, he felt his design of enforcing the 
 bonds of marriage so unpopular, that he was obliged 
 to renounce it as hopeless, and impracticable.f 
 So common, indeed, was the infidelity of the spouse 
 under him and his successors, that Valerius Maxi- 
 mus, who lived in the reign of Tiberius, assures 
 us, men were induced to marry from the sole con- 
 sideration of enriching, themselves by the forfeiture 
 of the wife's dowerj when she committed adultery.J 
 
 * See this discourse in Dion. Cassius, Lib. LVI. 
 
 * 
 
 f See Suetonius in Augusto, Cap. XXXIV. 
 5 Valer. Maximus, Lib. VI. Cap. III.
 
 In his profligate age, we also learn, that a great 
 number of women of condition were not ashamed 
 to present themselves publicly before their ./Ediles, 
 in order to be inscribed in the list of courtezans, 
 and to break down) by their own infamy, that bar- 
 rier which the laws had in vain opposed to their 
 prostitution.* While Seneca declares, that some of 
 the most exalted rank were accustomed to compute 
 their years, not by the number of consuls, but of 
 husbands.! 
 
 From that period, to the accession of Septimus 
 Severus, the utmost lines of vice may be delineated 
 in the conduct of the Roman women. The high 
 and low born were involved in one general course of 
 prostitution. J Every pleasure which did not vio- 
 late the rules of decency and virtue, was deemed 
 
 * See Tacitus Annalia, Lib. II. Cap. LXXXV. 
 
 f Non consulum numero, sed maritorum annos suos compu* 
 tant. De Beneficiis, Lib. III. Cap. XVI. 
 
 $ lamque eadetn sutnmis pariter minimisque libido ; 
 Nee melior, silicem pedibus quae content atrum 
 Quam quae longorura vehitur cervice Syrorum. 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. VI. v. 348350*
 
 79 
 
 trivial and unmeaning. The Roman ladies then 
 took great pleasure to display their skill in the mas- 
 culine exercises of fencers and gladiators. The 
 rage for spectacles, also, seized them in the in- 
 tervals of lust. The tragic or the comic actor 
 was, in their eyes, an object worthy of the most 
 passionate attachment ; a flute player swallowed up 
 patrimonies, and gave heirs to the descendants of 
 Scipio's and Emilius's ; and the life of a husband 
 was not so estimable as that of a lap-dog.* Lost 
 to all sense of shame and feeling, the hideous art of 
 abortions was brought to the summit of perfection :f 
 and, in the madness of their lewd and capricious 
 passions, the slaves of high-born females were trans- 
 formed into those monsters of Asia, eunuchs, J to 
 
 * Morte viri cupient animam servare catellse. Sat, VI. 
 y. 653. 
 
 t Sed jacet aurato vix ulla puerpera lecto 
 Tantum artes hujus, tantum medicamina possunt, 
 Quae steriles facit, atque homines in ventre necandos, 
 
 Conducit. < 
 
 Sat. VI. v. 593596. 
 
 + Sunt, quas cunuchi imbelles, ac mollia semper 
 Oscula delectent, et desperatio barbae 
 Et quod abortivo non est opus. 
 
 Sat. VI. T. 365367-
 
 so 
 
 add to the variety of their gross and unnatural 
 sures. While so extensive was the abuse of di- 
 vorce, that even eight husbands* in five years were 
 insufficient to satisfy their insatiate desires. 
 
 These enormous vices which Juvenal f has exposed 
 with all the fire of his malignant genius, and occa- 
 sionally arraigned with all the dignity of a true cen- 
 sor, seem to have reached their meridian at the pe- 
 riod that Septimus Severus obtained the undisputed 
 possession of the empire* For we find the laws 
 then more disposed to throw a veil over the crimes 
 of Rome, such was their nature and number, than 
 
 * Such at that time was the licence of divorce, that the above- 
 mentioned number of husbands was permitted by the Roman law. 
 And the epigrammatist, Martial, the contemporary of Juvenal, 
 points his satire against Thelesina, as an adulteress, by represent- 
 ing her preposterous violation of the law, in having ten husbands 
 in a month. 
 
 Aut minus, aut certe non plus tricesima lu* est, 
 Et nubit decimo, jam Thelesina viro. 
 Quac nubit toties, adultera lege est. 
 
 Lib. VI. Epig. Vlt 
 
 f* Whoever wishes to see an abominable picture of female li- 
 centiousness, drawn by the hand of a great master, should pe* 
 ruse the Tenth Satire of Juvenal.
 
 81 
 
 to punish them. That successful and despotic Em* 
 peror was obliged to renounce his project of refor- 
 mation, in consequence of finding three thousand 
 accusations of adultery inscribed on the public re- 
 
 gister. 
 
 But that this Essay may not be considered either 
 as a satire or a panegyric upon the female character, 
 instead of a collection of facts, we shall observe, 
 that profligate as the age of Juvenal unquestionably 
 was, yet the corruption was not so general, but tfoat 
 some marks of ancient virtue could be traced. The 
 poet, if the temper of his mind had led him to 
 praise rather than to condemn, to exalt rather than 
 to vilify, might have worthily commemorated the 
 conjugal heroism of that Aria, who, to encourage 
 her husband in his design of freeing himself from 
 the vengeance of Claudius by death, first plunged 
 the dagger in her own breast, and then presented it 
 to him. The same example was followed by her 
 daughter, the wife of Thrasea, and the daughter of 
 Thrasea, the wife of Helvidius Priscus, who both 
 merited two such illustrious characters for their 
 
 6
 
 husbands. In handing down to execration the me- 
 mory of Nero, Juvenal might have sung the praises 
 of Paulina, the wife of Seneca, whose determination 
 to share the same fate with her husband, was only 
 prevented by the cruel kindness of Nero, and who 
 exhibited in her countenance an honourable* pale- 
 ness, which, attested that part of her blood had 
 flowed with that of her husband. A fit subject, 
 also, for his independent muse, would have been 
 the character of Agrippina, the wife of the cele- 
 brated Germanicus. Early doomed to experience 
 the sad vicissitudes of fortune, a model of purity in 
 the most vicious of periods, as implacable in her 
 hatred of Tiberius as faithful to her husband, she 
 passed her life in lamenting the untimely fate of 
 the one, and detesting the crimes of the other. 
 And as the satirist never lost the opportunity of 
 exposing the inhumanity of the masters of the 
 world, his energetic lines might have set before our 
 
 * Cui addidit paucos postea annos, laudabili in tnaritum me- 
 moria, et ore ac manibus in eum pallorem albentibus, ut ostentui 
 tsset, multum vitalis spirit&segestum. Tacitus Annalia, Lib. XV. 
 Cap. LXIV.
 
 83 
 
 eyes a most impressive picture of the unfeeling 
 heart of Vespasian., which could not be even moved 
 by the rare and unmerited sufferings of the virtuous 
 Eponina; To escape the deadly hatred of the Em- 
 peror, her husband, Julius Sabinus, for nine suc- 
 cessive years became the inhabitant of a subterra- 
 neous cavern. She found out his place of conceal- 
 ment, devoted her whole time to him* and sought to 
 supply him with every comfort that could be en- 
 joyed without liberty. They were, however, at last 
 discovered. Incapable of being excited to com- 
 passion by the urgent intercessions of their friends, 
 or by the more affecting sight of the innocent twins, 
 the fruit of Eponina' s visits to the cave ; the brutal 
 Vespasian sentenced the husband not to a simple 
 and speedy, but to a cruel death. Torn from the 
 embrace of her lord, the distracted wife, in the 
 height of her resentment and despair* loaded the 
 tyrant with reproaches, and exclaimed, in the pre- 
 sence of him and of his courtiers, that she had 
 lived more happily in the bowels of the earth, than 
 he did, though surrounded by the splendour of a 
 throne. This speech sealed her doom. But though 
 
 02
 
 84 
 
 her unhappy lot,* nor that of Aria and Agrippina, 
 have arrested the notice of Juvenal, yet have their 
 names been rescued from oblivion, and their virtues 
 perpetuated in the immortal writings of Pliny and 
 Tacitus. 
 
 In the commencement of the fourth century, "f the 
 introduction and establishment of the Christian re- 
 ligion into the Roman world, was the consequence 
 of another great revolution in the female cha- 
 racter. The pagan theology was but ill-suited to 
 improve the manners of women ; for it partook 
 more of ceremonies, than of precepts. Lustrations 
 and processions supplied the place of a clear con- 
 science, and a uniform course of virtue. It is easy, 
 
 * The romantic history of this affectionate couple, has been 
 recorded by Plutarch, in his Amatoriae Narrationes, p. 770, 771 
 And an interesting tragedy in the French and Italian language has 
 been likewise founded upon it : Sabine et Eponine Tragedie, 
 par M. Richer. Paris, Prault. 1735. Epponina, Tragedia di 
 Ginseppe Bartoli in Torrino. Mairresse, 1767. 
 
 f In Anno Domini 324, circular letters were written by the 
 orders of the Emperor, to all his subjects, exhorting them to em- 
 brace the Christian religion, after his example. See Eusebius 
 Vita Cpnstantani Magni, Lib. II. Cap. 24 42, Cap. 48 60.
 
 S5 
 
 therefore, to conceive the mighty change which 
 Christianity effected in them ; since among the se- 
 vere laws which it imposed on women, it made 
 marriage no longer a political, but a sacred tie ; and 
 did not confine its empire to their actions, but ex- 
 tended it even to their thoughts. 
 
 The legislation of the Greeks and Romans looked 
 only to the political interest of societies : but the 
 Christian code, while it inculcated the practice of 
 every public and private virtue, inspired its follow-- 
 ers with a contempt for this world, and sought to 
 fix their minds upon a future state of rewards and 
 punishments. This contempt of the world ren- 
 dered them ambitious of perfection in the virtues of 
 self-mortification and chastity. The life of woman 
 then, was one perpetual struggle between her sen- 
 sual and her spiritual desires. To love and to cherish 
 our fellow creatures was justly reckoned among the 
 first of evangelical virtues. Women, young, rich, 
 and beautiful, were then seen to abandon the amuse- 
 ments of the theatre, in order to comfort and relieve 
 the aged, the sick, and the poor. The works of 
 that successful advocate for celibacy, St. Jerom,
 
 86 
 
 perpetually resound with the praises of Paula,* her 
 daughter Eustochium, and other illustrious penitents, 
 who, by his eloquent persuasions, devoted their 
 whole days and nights to the study of the scriptural 
 writings. 
 
 When the Roman empire was overturned by the 
 warlike barbarians of Scythia and Germany, to 
 soften their savage manners, Christianity passed 
 from the vanquished to the conquerors, and was 
 almost uniformly introduced by the female sex. It 
 has been often remarked, that women have in all 
 times been more possessed than men with that ar- 
 dent zeal for religion, which makes proselytism their 
 chief aim. But to, whatever cause this fact may be 
 attributed, whether to their superior susceptibility 
 of impression, or to their habits of quick and in r 
 telligent observation, it is indisputable, that most 
 nations are indebted for their conversion to the charms 
 of a believing queen. By such means, the evange- 
 lical light was gradually diffused through France, 
 
 * St. Jerom wrote a particular treatise upon the unexampled 
 piety of that celebrated widow. Jt is to be found in his works^ 
 tjnder the title of Epitaph, Paula.
 
 87 
 
 England, part of Germany, Bavaria, Hungary, Bo- 
 hemia, Lithuania, Poland, and Russia. And like- 
 wise through female influence, Lombardy and 
 Spain were led to renounce the doctrines of 
 Arius, 
 
 In contemplating the invasion of the barbarians 
 of the north, we cannot fail to be struck with the 
 important changes which they introduced in man- 
 ners. Whoever studies their history, will perceive 
 the invariable respect which they testified towards 
 the female sex. Their ferocity, as hunters or war-- 
 riors, was alone softened by the enthusiasm of love. 
 Their forests might be styled the cradles * of chi- 
 valry.* To possess the object of his passion, the 
 warrior was disposed to encounter every danger. 
 Frequently a battle, then, could be viewed only 
 as a number of separate duels, between combatants 
 animated by a strong personal animosity against 
 each other, in consequence of their ambition to 
 signalize themselves in the eyes of their respective 
 
 * Some faint vestiges of the ceremony of knighthood may be 
 discovered in the early history of the Germans. Framea scutoque 
 juvenem ornant, says Tacitus, Germania, Cap. XIII.
 
 mistresses. From this cause, their native forests 
 were oftentimes wet with blood, and the sword de- 
 cided marriages, as inheritances. 
 
 i 
 But though the barbarians who overwhelmed the 
 
 Roman world, had established a new system of 
 manners and government in the kingdoms they 
 erected upon the ruins of that mighty empire, which 
 'gradually prepared the way for the reign of chivalry, 
 yet many ages elapsed before it was considered as 
 a political and military institution, by the Rations 
 of Europe, The true spirit of chivalry did not be- 
 gin to manifest itself until the middle or close of 
 the eleventh century. Yet the universal anarchy 
 and discord, which had prevailed from the seventh 
 century to that aera among the different states of 
 Europe (with the sole exception of those short but 
 splendid periods, in which a Charlemagne and an 
 Alfred appeared), were even then, however, far from 
 being subsided. An almost perpetual shock was 
 occasioned in manners, by Christianity being mixec| 
 with the ceremonies of the ancient heathens ; in 
 polity and laws, by the rights of the priesthood 
 being mixed with those of the throne ; in govern-
 
 89 
 
 ment, by the prerogatives of kings being mixed 
 with those of the nobility ; and in religion, by the 
 Arabians and Christians being mixed in Europe. 
 From such contrasts flowed the sources of disorder 
 and confusion. Pilgrimages and massacres then of- 
 tentimes succeeded each other. 
 
 At the expiration, however, of the eleventh cen- 
 tury, Europe for the first time saw all the nobles 
 who were inspired with a sentiment of equity, reli- 
 gion, and heroism, forming themselves into associ- 
 ations,' to check the spirit of ferocity and violence. 
 Their chief object was, to take up arms against the 
 Moors in Spain, the Saracens in the East, the ty- 
 rants of castles in Germany and France, to protect 
 and avenge the innocent, the helpless, and the dis- 
 tressed ; and, above all, to defend the honour and 
 rights of the fair sex, against the violence and op- 
 pression which they so often experienced. 
 
 Soon the spirit of a noble gallantry mingled itself 
 in this memorable institution. Each knight, in de- 
 dicating himself to the accomplishment of perilous 
 adventures, established it as a point of honour to
 
 90 
 
 regard women in the light of sovereigns. To be 
 insensible, indeed, to the passion of love, would 
 have incapacitated the knight from discharging some 
 of the most essential duties of his profession. And 
 for her who was selected as the object of adoration, 
 he attacked and defended, he stormed castles or 
 cities, and gloried in shedding his own blood as 
 much as that of his enemies. Decorated in his 
 person with tokens of regard from the hand of his 
 fair mistress, the knight roamed from court to court, 
 from castle to castle, in search of opportunities to 
 display his military virtues; for until he achieved 
 some gallant exploit, either at home or abroad, a 
 lady would have been irretrievably ruined, in the 
 eyes of her kindred, had she turned a willing ear to 
 the declaration of his attachment. The liberal sen- 
 timents and generous manners which chivalry 
 therefore introduced, and the marvellous respect 
 and veneration it inculcated for the feebler sex, may 
 be said to have laid the foundation of a system, 
 which first required that women should be addressed 
 in a style of gentleness, delicacy, and attention, 
 unknown to the Greeks and Romans in their most 
 polished periods, and which gave them that sensibj-
 
 91 
 
 lity and refinement, that influence and consideration 
 in society, by which they are now distinguished. 
 
 Let us stop, then, for a moment, to throw a ra- 
 pid glance upon the revolution produced in the 
 condition and manners of women, by the genius 
 of chivalry. Subject, before, to every species of 
 neglect and ill-usage, by the rudeness and brutality 
 of man, it was one of the effects of this singular 
 institution, to set them up to be worshipped as 
 idols by their slaves or servants, the respectful titles 
 assumed by their admirers. Love was then insepa- 
 rable from honour. The ladies, proud of their em- 
 pire, shared the noble passions which they inspired. 
 Inaccessible to every sentiment unallied with glory, 
 their manners were at once dignified, heroic, and 
 tender. The female, who so far lost sight of the 
 established maxims of the age, as to forget to reve- 
 rence the chastity of her own person, was sure to 
 encounter universal contempt and insult. While 
 such was the homage paid to those whose virtue 
 was unsullied, that the slightest mark of disrespect 
 shewn to them by an uncourteous knight, exposed 
 him to the danger and infamy of being treated as a
 
 common enemy, by all who were mindful of the 
 oath which they had taken, to become the champion 
 of God and the ladies.* 
 
 Such was the rank and dignity which the spirit of 
 chivalry imparted to the female sex, and such the 
 fine propriety and guarded sensibility it rigidly ex- 
 acted from them. It gave birth, also, to an innu- 
 merable multitude of works in praise of women. 
 The verses of the bards, better known by the name 
 of Trouverres, or Troubadours, the Italian sonnet, 
 the plaintive romance, the poems of chivalry, and 
 the Spanish and French romances, may be regarded 
 as so many monuments descriptive of the love and 
 gallantry of the times. In every rehearsal of mimic 
 ,war, in tilts, tournaments, and battles, all bore a 
 strong relation to women. The same propensity to 
 magnify and exalt the female character, manifested 
 itself in the lively writings of these days. The 
 
 * The most ample information relative to the rights and privi- 
 leges of the order of chivalry, and the various important duties it 
 imposed on those who were admitted into it, may be collected in 
 Memoirs sur 1'Ancienne Chivalrie consideree comme une Etab- 
 lissement Politique et Militaire, par M. de la Curne de St. 
 Palaye,
 
 93 
 
 warrior and poet were then characters analogous to 
 each other. The hand which brandished the lance, 
 also touched the lyre, in honour of the sovereign 
 of his affections. 
 
 That romantic spirit of bravery which oftentimes 
 prompted the candidate for knighthood to attempt 
 impossibilities, was communicated, in a great mea- 
 sure, to women. The crusades furnish us with 
 many examples of their enthusiastic zeal and cou- 
 rage. In the field of battle, they have remained 
 firm and undismayed ; and, animated by the double 
 force of religion and valour, have died with arms in 
 their hands, by the sides of their lovers or husbands. 
 In Europe, the attack or defence of a pass, or castle, 
 was oftentimes undertaken by women ; and princesses 
 then commanded armies, and gained victories.* 
 Such, among many others, was the celebrated Jane 
 of Flanders, Countess of Mountfort, who protected 
 Brittanny against the united attacks of the French, 
 Spaniards, and Genoese, by an example of female 
 
 * Those times, would seem to render Plato's notion, of assign- 
 ing the same employments to women as to men, of committing to 
 them the command of Armies, and the government of states, not 
 quite so great a paradox, as it has been generally considered.
 
 94 
 
 skill and valour, that has not been surpassed in any 
 age or country. 
 
 The next revolution which took place in the 
 female character, may be attributed to the revival 
 of letters in Italy. Before that memorable epoch, 
 the thick darkness of ignorance was spread over 
 Europe. But when the minds of men were supplied 
 with proper models and materials, they began gra-* 
 dually to recover their powers. Women, too, were 
 likewise ambitious of shewing that their mental fa- 
 culties were not inferior to those of the other sex. 
 Alessandra, the daughter of Bartolomeo Scala, chan- 
 cellor of the republic of Florence, is said to have 
 been equally conversant with the Greek and Latin 
 tongues, at a very early age ; and some of her verses 
 in the former language, are to be found in the works 
 of that celebrated scholar Politian. While the 
 famous Cassandra Fideles, of Venice, may be justly 
 regarded as a prodigy of classical literature. Such, 
 indeed, were her extraordinary acquirements, that 
 her name deservedly holds a high rank, even among 
 the learned men of Italy.* 
 
 * Her letters and orations were published at Pavia, in 163 6, 
 by Jac. Philip Thomassini, a bishop in the republic of Venice.
 
 95 
 
 So strong then was the passion of women for 
 letters, and so great their proficiency in them, that 
 we find even some desirous of exhibiting the fruits of 
 their studies to a public audience. In the fourteenth, 
 century, the daughter of a gentleman of Bologna 
 devoted herself to the study of the Latin language 
 and jurisprudence. At the age of three and twenty 
 she pronounced a funeral oration in Latin, in the 
 great church of Bologna ; and, three years after, 
 she took the degree of Doctor, and publicly read 
 the Institutes of Justinian, in her native city. When 
 she had completed her thirtieth year, her reputation 
 was so great as to raise her to the chair of juris- 
 prudence ; and her lectures were frequented by a 
 crowd of disciples, composed of various countries 
 and ages. The picture of this extraordinary female 
 will be heightened by adding, that, with this know- 
 ledge of a man, she possessed all the charms and 
 beauty of her own sex.* 
 
 * M. Thomas, in his admirable Essai sur le Charactere, les 
 Moeurs, et 1'Esprit de Femmes dans les differens Siecles, p. 86, 
 to which I am indebted for many of the conclusions drawn from 
 the facts related in this discouise, tells us, that in the fourteenth 
 and fifteenth centuries, the same prodigy was renewed in the same 
 city. And it is worthy of remark, that, in the eighteenth ccn-
 
 96 :..; 
 
 At the end of the fourteenth century, when the 
 knowledge of the Greek, as v well as the Latin tongue, 
 was spread over Italy, the merits of Aristotle 
 and Plato divided the attention of the learned. 
 The church and universities paid a servile respect 
 and veneration to the dogmatic opinions of the former, 
 while the writings of the latter philosopher were 
 universally admired by poets, lovers, and women. 
 The study of classic literature was not, however, 
 destined to be confined to Italy. The rest of Eu- 
 rope was soon animated with a similar spirit. The 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, saw France, Spain, 
 Germany, and England, introduced to an acquaint- 
 ance with the poets, philosophers, orators, and 
 historians, of Greece and Rome ; and the records 
 of those times bear ample testimony, that women 
 were so distinguished for their learning, as to be 
 qualified to enter the lists with men in literary 
 contests ; to sustain Theses in public assemblies ; to 
 
 tury , a female was again raised to a chair at Bologna . It was the 
 celebrated Laura Bassi who obtained this distinction . Her letters 
 upon natural philosophy are said to have first instigated her rela- 
 tive, Lazarus Spallanzani, to the pursuit of a science, in which 
 he afterwards acquired such high renown.
 
 97 
 
 preach and mix in controversies ; to fill the ehair of 
 philosophy and jurisprudence ; to harangue in La- 
 tin before Popes ; to write Greek ; and to study 
 Hebrew.* 
 
 Women then dedicated themselves to the pursuit 
 
 " of learning, with an ardour and devotion, of which 
 
 it is difficult to form an idea in these times. This 
 
 passion \vas alike felt in cloisters, courts, and even 
 
 upon thrones. Of the times in which we are 
 
 speaking, one of the chief objects in the minds of 
 
 . English queens was, the acquisition of the ancient 
 
 languages. Catharine Parr is said to have translated 
 
 a book ; and Lady Jane Grey's fame as a scholar,f 
 
 * M. Thomas, in his Essai sur le Caractere, les Maeurs, ct 
 1'Esprit des Femmes, p. 87 91, has given us the names of thoat 
 females who have rendered themselves, eminent in different coun- 
 tries, either by their own writings, or by their indefatigable ap- 
 plication to the study of the ancient languages* 
 
 f* The letter she addressed to her sister, in the Greek language, 
 the night before her execution, the purport of which was to ex- 
 hort her " to live and die in the true Christian faith," rttay be 
 cited as an equal proof of her uncommon proficiency in classical 
 learning, arid her presence of mind upon that trying occasion* 
 It is to be found in Heylin's History of the Reformation of the 
 Church of England, p. 16G, 167.
 
 98 
 
 if we look to the age in which she lived, cannot be 
 too highly extolled, or too loudly applauded. It 
 is well known, that Elizabeth was intimately ac- 
 quainted with the Greek and Latin classics, nor 
 was her knowledge of the French arid Spanish lan- 
 guages less profound** While, from the following 
 sentence of an author who lived and wrote in her 
 reign, it would appear, that the ladies of the court 
 had imitated her example. " The stranger/ '"\ says 
 Harrison, " that entereth the Court of England, 
 upon the sudden, shall rather imagine himself come 
 into some public school of the University, where 
 many give ear to one thafreadeth unto them, than 
 into a prince's palace, if you confer this with those 
 of other nations/* The hours now bestowed at the 
 glass and the toilet, were then past in studying the 
 writings of the ancients. 
 
 * The famous Roger Ascham, in proclaiming the scholastic 
 attainments of his royal pupil Elizabeth, observes, to use his 
 own words, " Yea, I believe, that besides her perfect readiness 
 in Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish, she readeth here now 
 at Windsor, more Greek every day, than some prebendary f 
 this church doth Latin in a whole week." See the Schoolmaster. 
 
 t See Description of Britain, Book II. Chap. XV. This 
 work was printed in 1577.
 
 99 
 
 Many pens were employed in commemorating 
 the praises of illustrious women. Italy began soon 
 to be overwhelmed with this description of works* 
 After Boccacio's Panegyric de Claris Mulieribus, 
 upwards of twenty writers published successively 
 eulogies upon the celebrated women of all nations* 
 About the end of the fourteenth century, Brantome 
 produced his entertaining work, Memoires des 
 Dames Illustres. It has the unpardonable fault 
 however, of substituting too often adulation in the 
 place of truth. Even the characters of Catharine 
 de Medici and Jane of Naples, this complacent 
 biographer can consider as fit subjects for unbounded 
 panegyric. Although the first has been accused, 
 by the impartiality of all contemporary historians, as 
 the murderer of her husband, and the second as the 
 author of the civils wars in France, and the chief 
 promoter of the massacre of the Huguenots. Yet 
 does not Brantome scruple, in his excessive admi- 
 ration of the fair sex, to maintain them innocent of 
 those flagitious actSi 
 
 The next commendatory work upon the female 
 sex, came from the pen of Hilarion de Coste* His 
 
 H 2
 
 100 
 
 ponderous volumes contained the eulogies of all the 
 women in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, who 
 were either distinguished by their courage, their 
 talents, or then: virtues* But we must not expect 
 a bigoted catholic to be much inclined to break 
 forth into a strain of compliment upon those, who 
 were not attached to his theological tenets. Ac- 
 
 O 
 
 cordingly we find, that Hilarion de Coste passes 
 over in total silence the name of Queen Elizabeth, 
 and indulges himself in a long and pompous eulo- 
 gium upon the merits of her predecessor, who 
 commenced her reign by the murder of the most 
 accomplished of women, Lady Jane Grey, and who 
 has deservedly incurred the execration of posterity, 
 for having brought, in the short space of five years,* 
 two hundred and seventy-seven persons to the stake, 
 on account of religion. 
 
 The same spirit which produced, in those times, 
 so many panegyrics upon illustrious women, pre- 
 
 * The period that Mary reigned. And it is computed, that, 
 in that time, five bishops, twenty-one clergymen, eight lay gen- 
 tlemen, eighty-four artificers, one hundred husbandmen and la- 
 bourers, fifty-five women, and four children, were burnt. See 
 Heylin's History of the Reformation, p. 252.
 
 101 
 
 pared the way for almost an equal number of pub- 
 lications upon the merits of women in general. 
 The pre-eminence of the sexes, to such a pinnacle-of 
 perfection was the female character then supposed 
 to have attained, began, for the first time, to be 
 proposed as a question for public debate. Among 
 those, who peculiarly signalized themselves as the 
 assertors for the superiority of women, was that ex- 
 traordinary man, Cornelius Agrippa. His history 
 is so singular, as to merit particular notice. He 
 was born at Cologne, in 1486, and deduced his 
 origin from a noble family. At an early age he en- 
 tered into the service of the Emperor Maximilian, 
 and obtained from him the post of secretary. But 
 the sword being as familiar to him as the pen, he 
 sought fame and military experience for seven years, 
 in the army of Italy* and, as a recompence for his 
 exploits, received the honour of knighthood. He 
 aspired, also, to academical as well as to martial 
 honours, and took the different degrees of Doctor 
 of Divinity, Laws, and Medicine, with great eclat. 
 He was master of eight languages ; and such was 
 the versatility of his genius, and such the equal ac- 
 tivity of his body arid mind, that he commented
 
 102 
 
 upon the Epistles of St. Paul, in England ; gave lec- 
 tures upon the philosopher's stone at Turin, taught 
 theology at Pavia, and practised medicine in Swit- 
 zerland. His eminent talents were engaged succes- 
 sively in the service of three or four princes and 
 princesses-. But his lofty and captious temper ren- 
 dered him alike incapable of submitting to slavery, 
 
 i 
 or enjoying freedom. Considered a magician by 
 
 the superstition of his times, a proficient in most 
 sciences, and twice imprisoned for the boldness of 
 his writings, he finished his career in France, in the 
 forty-ninth year of his age, after having excited, by 
 turns, the pity, admiration, and contempt, of the 
 
 learned of Europe.* 
 
 ' 
 
 It was in 1509, that Cornelius Agrippa published 
 his famous treatise, De Faeminei Sexus Praecellen- 
 tia. From the circumstance, however, of his be- 
 ing a dependant, at that time, upon the bounty of 
 the famous Margaret of Austria, who governed the 
 Low Countries, his enemies have not been wanting 
 
 * For a full account of his adventurous life, see Bayle's Die* 
 tionaire Historique et Critique.
 
 103 
 
 to insinuate, that interest, more than inclination, 
 directed his pen upon this occasion. It must be 
 confessed, at the first glance, that the nature of his 
 connection with that princess, might seem to au- 
 thorize such an opinion. But whoever has perused 
 the work in question, cannot fail to acknowledge, 
 that the author of it, writes like one who is com- 
 pletely enamoured of his subject. No doating 
 lover ever ransacked his brains more for similes to 
 illustrate the superlative beauty and accomplish- 
 ments of his mistress, than Cornelius Agrippa has 
 done to exalt the female above the male sex. His 
 book is divided into thirty chapters ; and in each 
 chapter, he attempts to demonstrate the superiority 
 of women, from proofs theological, physical, histo- 
 rical, cabalistical, and moral. Fable, poetry, and 
 history, laws civil and canonical, are jumbled to- 
 gether, in strange confusion, to support the cause 
 which he so heartily espoused. And his singular 
 discourse is concluded (in which a great display of 
 learning is certainly exhibited), by the solemn 
 assurance, that not interest, but duty, is the real 
 motive which has prompted him to undertake it ; 
 since, to know a truth, and not to proclaim it, is
 
 104 
 
 to be regarded, according to his judgment, in the 
 light of a criminal silence. 
 
 But though the merits of this performance art? 
 not of the first rate, yet it is still entitled to notice, 
 as an authentic indication of the unbounded re- 
 spect and admiration then shewn to the female 
 sex. The sixteenth century, may be, perhaps, 
 viewed as the most brilliant epoch for women. 
 After this- period, the rtumber of pieces, in prose 
 and poetry, in their praises, considerably diminished. 
 The final extinction of chivalry in Europe, the abo- 
 lition of tournaments, the wars of religion in Ger- 
 many, France, arid 'England, and the new taste of 
 society, which, by increasing the intercourse of the 
 sexes, corrupted their morals, may be referred to as 
 the principal causes for the abatement of that, we 
 had almost said, unnatural refinement, which re r 
 
 quired from the lover the most distant and respect- 
 
 t 
 ful homage to the object of his passion ; and, on 
 
 her part, a reserve and chastity which bordered 
 oftentimes upon a ludicrous absurdity.* Still, how- 
 
 * Various and curious instances are given by M. de la Curne de 
 St. Palaye, in his Memoires sur I'-Ancienne Chevalrie, &c. &c,
 
 105 
 
 ever, beauty, as a possession, was, perhaps, then 
 more coveted than by the heroes of chivalry ; nor 
 was that romantic spirit of gallantry less frequent, 
 which instigates the lover to the most daring efforts 
 of valour, for the sole purpose of obtaining the ad- 
 miration of the fair mistress of his affections. But, 
 after all, the only essential difference between the 
 two systems, may be said to consist, in the first 
 regarding sensual pleasure as a secondary, and the 
 latter as a primary object, 
 
 If we take a view of ,the state of women in the 
 seventeenth century, it will be found, that while a 
 free communication between the sexes was only 
 gradually commencing in Germany, England, and 
 Spain, it was then carried to the highest pitch in 
 Italy and France. In that latter country, especially, 
 women of high birth began to abandon all taste for 
 severe studies ; and to confine themselves to the 
 acquirement of those accomplishments, which might 
 heighten the effect of their personal charms. Then 
 did they display, for the first time, that exquisite 
 grace in their mariners, and unaffected freedom and 
 plegance of conversation, which has ever since so
 
 106 
 
 peculiarly distinguished them to their advantage, 
 from the rest of their sex in Europe. And such is 
 the striking inconsistency of human conduct, and 
 human affairs, that the period when the women of 
 France became, as it were, the glass of fashion to 
 those of other European nations, was apparently 
 the most, unlikely one for such a circumstance ; 
 when their own country was exposed to all the 
 horrors of civil anarchy and bloodshed. 
 
 Under the regency of Anne of Austria, the wo- 
 men of France acquired that dominion over the 
 minds of their husbands and lovers, which they 
 seemed to have preserved, with very little dimi- 
 nution, down to the times in which we live. The 
 famous Cardinal Retz, in his account of the Fron- 
 deurs, has fully shewn us, how entirely love pre- 
 sided over all their intrigues.* A revolution in the 
 heart of a woman, then often produced a revolution 
 in the state of public affairs. Women, in the pe- 
 riods to which we allude, occasionally appeared at 
 the head of factions. While their persons were de- 
 
 * See Memoires de Cardinal Retz.
 
 107 
 
 corated with scarfs, for the purpose of distinguish- 
 ing the party to which they belonged. In the same 
 saloon were seen instruments of war mixed with 
 instruments of music ; violins with cuirasses. Wo- 
 men, illustrious by their birth, and eminent for their 
 beauty, oftentimes visited the troops, and appeared 
 ?n the councils of war. 
 
 In respect to the gallantry of those times, it is 
 well known to have been of the most romantic 
 kind, Possessed of the warm passions of a Spa- 
 niard, Anne of Austria herself, is said, if we listen 
 to the scandalous tales of the Fronde, to have fre- 
 quently deviated from the line of virtue, in the 
 attachment she manifested to her favourites. To 
 render a public homage to beauty, was considered 
 an act of duty, on the part of man. The most 
 trifling occurrences were classed with things of im- 
 portance, if women were at all concerned in them. 
 The gift of a .bracelet or glove, was esteemed an 
 event in a man's life ; and love or gallantry were 
 deemed as fit subjects for serious discussion, as the 
 loss or gain of a battle. In two lines, less remark- 
 able for their poetry, than for an extravagant hy-
 
 108 
 
 / 
 
 perbole, the Due de la Rochefoucault assures Ma- 
 dame de Longueville, that, to merit her affections', 
 he had made war against kings, and would against 
 the gods themselves.^ The lover of the beautiful 
 Mademoiselle de Guerchi, M. de Chatillon, wore 
 her garter upon his arm in one battle. And we afeo 
 read, in the memoirs of those times, that the Due 
 de Bellegarde, the distinguished favourite of the 
 queen, on the eve of his departure to command an 
 army, solicited her to honour him so far as to, 
 touch the hilt of his sword. 
 
 From that period to the present, it may be safely 
 asserted, that, in proportion to the advancement of 
 the fine arts, in the countries of Europe, have been 
 the improvements in the state and accomplishments 
 of women. They may now be said to have struck 
 
 * There was a regiment created under the name of Mademoi- 
 selle ; and Monsieur wrote to the lady who attended his daughter 
 to Orleans, in the following manner : " A Mesdames les Comt- 
 esses Marechales de camp dans Tarmee de ma fille contre Je 
 Mazarin. 
 
 f Pour meriter son coeur, pour plaire a ses beaux yeux, 
 4'ai faite la guerre aux Roix, je 1'aurois faite aux Dieux
 
 109 
 
 a deep root in that fairest and most enlightened por- 
 tion of the globe. For even in Spain and Russia, 
 where the progress of the arts has been so slow, in 
 comparison with other European countries, from the 
 superstitious and tyrannical spirit of those govern- 
 ments, the women are now beginning to mix in 
 society, and, consequently, to act on the same 
 principles of equality, independence, and freedom, 
 as those in France and England. 
 
 Having now contemplated women, in different 
 epochs and countries, it only remains for us to speak 
 of their actual condition and character. But that 
 we may not still further lengthen a discourse, al- 
 ready perhaps, too long, we shall confine our ob- 
 servations to those of our own country. 
 
 V r hoever surveys the condition of woman, in 
 savage and civilized life, will perceive that, in the 
 one and the other, she may be said to touch the 
 extremes of misery and happiness. Of the benefits, 
 then, which result from an age of high refinement, 
 like the present, there can be no question, but that 
 women receive their full share. Without regarding
 
 110 
 
 them like the sons of chivalry, or romance, as be- 
 ings of a superior order, we yet acknowledge, in 
 every act, the influence which they possess over 
 our society. We, in fact, consider them as the 
 grand spring, which puts it in motion* Capable* 
 then, of imparting whatever form they please to 
 society, it must be a matter of great satisfaction to 
 every thinking mind, to perceive that this influence 
 on the part of women is properly exerted ; for it 
 will not be denied, even by those who are disposed 
 to entertain the most gloomy apprehensions respect-' 
 ing the future destiny of Britain, that the female 
 character never stood higher for the cultivation of 
 private virtue of every kind, than in the present 
 times. 
 
 In spite of the general licentiousness which reigns 
 on the Continent, softness, delicacy, and purity, 
 are still the characteristics of the females of this 
 island* They have not learned, as yet, to mistake 
 -effrontery for dignity, and they still consider, that 
 the most indispensable of all their virtues, and that 
 by which they obtain the greatest influence over 
 our sex, is modesty. The absence, indeed, of this
 
 ill 
 
 virtue, excludes all the rest, which are its insepara- 
 ble concomitants ; and such is the inexpressibly 
 captivating effect of it over their whole character^ 
 that it is the observation of Madame de Sevigne, 
 whose acquaintance with human nature, and skill 
 in the portraiture of every feminine passion, was 
 inferior to none, that women should preserve their 
 modesty, even in the very moment they are going 
 to part with it. . 
 
 The intellectual powers of our fair countrywomen 
 are now beginning to take a wider range than they 
 have hitherto done. Few subjects can be presented, 
 upon which their extensive reading does not enable 
 them to throw out some suitable ideas. In the days 
 of the Spectator, the greatest part of the fine ladies 
 conducted themselves as if they had really adopted 
 that tenet of Mahomet, which forbade all kind of 
 study to their sex. Their shameful privilege of 
 doing nothing, was then claimed and made use of, 
 to the fullest extent. Whereas, the most dissipated 
 votaries of fashion, we believe, can now find time 
 to cultivate their minds ; while some individuals, in 
 the female community, exhibit talents of the very
 
 112 
 
 first order; abundant proofs, indeed, will be found 
 in the records of authentic history, to justify the 
 assertion, that genius has no sex, In all the de- 
 partments of literature, except the philosophical 
 one, women, we profess to think, have nearly 
 reached to an equal degree of excellence with men, 
 and in some, we will venture to add, eclipsed 
 them* . 
 
 
 We are not, however, ignorant, that the celebrated 
 Descartes has boasted of the philosophical spirit of 
 women But the impartial examiner of his life, will 
 not fail to recollect, that at the time he committed this 
 error, in our judgment, he was persecuted by envy, 
 and chiefly admired by two princesses. Possible it 
 is, too, that in his royal pupils, Elizabeth and Chris- 
 tina, he found clearness, order, and method, but 
 the foundation of the philosophical spirit, that he- 
 sitation and cold reason which measures every step 
 
 * 
 
 it takes, We suspect were not to be traced in their 
 understandings. The female mind is quick and pe- 
 netrating. But to investigate a subject in all its 
 relations, is a task which it is incapable of perform- 
 ing. It has more sallies than efforts. That patien-t
 
 115 
 
 induction, therefore, which leads to the discovery 
 of great and important truths, cannot be looked 
 for in the intellectual character of the softer sex. 
 But though we are not disposed to admit, that the 
 mind of woman, in the foregoing respect, is en- 
 dowed with the same powers as that of man, yet 
 justice requires us to remember, that Madame de 
 Chatelet made such proficiency in the study of 
 abstracted sciences, and difficult researches, as to 
 illustrate Leibnitz, and to translate and comment 
 upon Newton. 
 
 In the eye of the moralist, luxury is conceived to 
 be peculiarly ruinous to the female character. To 
 every true lover of his country, it cannot, then, but 
 be a source of high consolation to observe, that, 
 in the present period of excessive refinement and 
 corruption, the religious, domestic, and social virtues, 
 instead of being abjured by women, as some writers 
 would plainly wish to insinuate, are more strictly 
 fulfilled by them> than by our sex. The spectacle 
 is now by no means rare, of the father and sons of 
 a family being familiar with all the immoralities of 
 fashionable life, while the mother and daughters are
 
 114 
 
 remarkable for the piety of their sentiments, and 
 the purity of their conduct. Nor can these reli- 
 gious impressions be ascribed to the consequence of 
 leading a secluded and-contemplative life, since the 
 modern system of manners gives to the females the 
 most unbounded liberty. We can only attribute 
 them, then, to that sort of docility which they bring 
 to the performance of their duties, and which teaches 
 them to feel more than men, and reason less. 
 
 The domestic virtues should be common to both 
 sexes. But the inferiority of men, in this respect, 
 is so obvious, that no arguments are necessary to 
 prove it. "Where it is not so, private happiness and 
 honour cannot be said to be secured upon the 
 firmest foundations. Since what, for instance, would 
 become of those two essential ingredients in forming 
 the lasting prosperity and spirit of a nation, if 
 conjugal fidelity were as often violated by one sex, 
 as by the other. In the social virtues, too, it does 
 not appear to us, by any means, extravagant to 
 think, that the -women of the present age are infi- 
 nitely more conversant than our sex. If we judge 
 women^ after nature, and judge them after society,
 
 115 
 
 especially the society of great cities, it will, perhaps, 
 be found, that in the latter state, the general desire 
 of pleasing, stifles, in a great measure, all those 
 sweet and affectionate, passions, which are comprized 
 under the virtues of sensibility. ' Nevertheless, 
 though they are continually exposed, in their in- 
 tercourse with the world, to meet with rivals, in 
 rank, beauty, fortune, and intellect ; circumstances 
 which are somewhat apt to freeze their more amia- 
 ble 'feelings, and to discourage the reciprocation of 
 social kindnesses, yet still we are inclined to believe, 
 that their constancy in friendship and love, is more 
 durable than that of men. 
 
 In that species of heroic friendship, which shrinks 
 from no sacrifice nor danger, to support the object 
 of our regard, the women, it must be granted, are 
 inferior to the men. In other respects, tfre female 
 disposition is better adapted to the cultivation of 
 friendship. Our rough, unbending, and unaccom- 
 modating nature, is little, indeed, framed to display 
 those delicate and tender sentiments which may be 
 said to constitute the graces of friendship. Often- 
 times we wound most, when we attempt to ad- 
 
 i 2
 
 116 
 
 minister comfort ; and, unlike the fair sex, in esti- 
 mating the perfections and imperfections of our 
 friends, we are more disposed to dwell upon theip 
 failings than their virtues. 
 
 At nos virtutes ipsas invevtimus, atque 
 Sincerum cupimiis vas incrustare. 
 
 Horace, Lib. I. Sat. 1IL 
 
 In great occasions, then, the friendship of the 
 man, perhaps, is to be preferred ; but for our ordi- 
 nary happiness, we cannot help thinking, that fe- 
 male friendship is most to be desiderated. 
 
 With respect to the attachment of the heart, the 
 rapidity with which they shoot forth, and die away, 
 among our own sex, would plainly seem to indicate, 
 that, in unshaken constancy, the women are supe- 
 rior to the men. We might, indeed, be rather led 
 to expect, from the excessive adulation which is 
 so universally offered to them, for they, like princes, 
 seldom hear the truth, that their capriciousness 
 would have been proverbial. The number of victims 
 to male inconstancy and perjury, prove it, how- 
 ever, to be otherwise. May not this superior
 
 117 
 
 durability of affection in the female character, be 
 accounted for, from the circumstance of our sex being 
 destined either to active or public life, the busy 
 scenes of which rarely permit them to make love 
 the ruling passion of their souls, whereas, from the 
 exemption of the ladies from all public employ- 
 ments, their mind, heart, imagination, and memory, 
 are all affected by it ; and it becomes the most im- 
 portant concern of their life. 
 
 We are perfectly aware of the numerous excep- 
 tions to these remarks, in the present age. That 
 there are many women in the middling and higher, 
 classes of society, who set no value upon accom- 
 plishments which adorn retirement, whose mornings 
 are spent in coquetry, and nights in gaming ; who 
 talk of marriage as if treachery and infidelity were 
 its inseparable concomitants, who practice every 
 kind of vice and folly in succession, and whose last 
 groan, we may say with St. Evremond, is more for 
 the loss of their beauty, than their life. Yet we 
 may confidently boast, that the majority of the 
 female sex, in this happy island, cultivate literature, 
 and esteem it for its own sake, and not for a vain
 
 118 
 
 
 and frivolous reputation ; and keep their esteem for 
 
 virtue, their contempt for vice, their sensibility for 
 friendship, and their affection entire for their fa- 
 milies, uncontaminated by all such disgraceful 
 examples.
 
 119 
 
 ESSAY V. 
 
 / * 
 
 
 
 On the Formation of National Characters from 
 Physical Causes, 
 
 philosophical and speculative men', few 
 subjects have been thought more worthy of exami- 
 nation, than that one, of how far the climates of 
 different countries, affect their forms of govern- 
 ment. Those theories, which ascribe the habits of 
 government entirely to the influences of climate and 
 situation, appear to us, as absurd and extravagant, 
 as any which can be traced in the Republic of Plato, 
 or the Utopia of Sir Thomas IVfore. We shall, 
 therefore, content ourselves with taking a summary 
 view of them, without entering into a refutation of 
 the radically erroneous reasonings of those, who 
 deny the operation altogether of moral causes, upon 
 the spirit and intelligence of the great mass of a 
 nation.
 
 120 
 
 That the northern inhabitants of the globe are 
 more inclined to laborious exertions, than those 
 who are exposed to the vertical rays of the sun, is 
 a position which appears undeniable to us. But 
 where the air is most temperate, and soil rich and 
 inviting, that there we should certainly find a lively 
 fancy, and ardour of soul, the fairest shoots of elo- 
 quence, and an extreme delicacy of taste, is a con- 
 clusion, which we are not warranted to make, either 
 from a past or present view of the history of man* 
 kind. Nor can it be laid down as a principle, 
 without very considerable modification, that un- 
 daunted resolution, and the most solid improvement 
 in the study of science, are to be regarded as the 
 peculiar properties of the inhabitants of a cold 
 region. 
 
 It must be obvious to every one, that excessive 
 heat is not calculated to render the body patient of 
 fatigue, In the torrid zone, where the fruits of the 
 earth spring up almost spontaneously, the disposition 
 to sloth may be indulged without any danger of 
 wanting the necessaries of life. On the contrary, 
 those who dwell in cold countries must labour, or
 
 121 
 
 else be exposed to the miseries of famine. In this 
 manner, we can account for the southern Asiatic 
 displaying, in general, less vigour and strength of 
 body than the northern European. It is, however, 
 asserted, by Montesquieu and other philosophers, 
 that the qualities of the air and climate affect, in a 
 powerful degree, the conduct and characters of 
 nations. According to them, we are to believe, 
 that great heat, by relaxing the fibres, and by 
 extending the surface of the skin, where the action 
 of the nerves is chiefly performed, excites an un- 
 common sensibility to all external subjects ; conse- 
 quently, an exquisite imagination, taste, sensibility, 
 and vivacity, is to be peculiar to those latitudes, 
 where the fig and the vine, the tamarind and the 
 pine-apple, grow in the greatest natural perfection ; 
 while those, on the other hand, who live in cold 
 climates, are said to acquire a cast of mind and 
 temper of an opposite complexion. 
 
 But to us, no position seems more deficient in 
 solidity, than that Ingenia hominum ubique locorum 
 iitus format.* We profess to think, that the intel- 
 
 * Sec Quintus Curtius, Lib. VIII.
 
 122 
 
 lectual operations of the mind, are no more de- 
 pendent upon the difference of heat and cold, of 
 moisture or dryness, than that ferocity and cruelty 
 are the necessary consequences of devouring a large 
 quantity of animal food.* For, entertaining the 
 opinion, that genius, in all its multifarious forms, is 
 the product of every country, the following reasons, 
 we conceive, may be satisfactorily urged. 
 
 Now, then, if it be true, that the qualities of an 
 air and soil, usurp a decided influence over the 
 temperament and understanding of its inhabitants, 
 it will necessarily follow, that those people, whose 
 situation with respect to climate is apparently sinii- 
 
 * " II est certain," says Rousseau, " que les grands mangeurs 
 de viande sont en general cruels et feroces plus que les autres 
 hommes. Cette observation est de tous les lieux, et de touts les 
 terns. La barbare Angloise est connue." See Emile, Tom. I. 
 p. 274. But the unsubstantial diet which the French are famed 
 for using, has produced effects, unfortunately, too well calcu- 
 lated to refute the justness of that observation. Our country- 
 man, Sir William Temple, in his account of the United Pro- 
 vinces, has fallen almost into the same error, by remarking, that 
 all fierce and bold animals are carnivorous. Vol. I. p. 166. 
 But Mr. Hume, in his admirable Essay upon National Charac- 
 ters, points out, with his usual acuteness, the Swedes, as a 
 striking exception to this general observation. Vol. I. p. 210.
 
 123 
 
 lar, should be found counterparts to each other, in 
 their manners, dispositions, or pursuits. But what 
 resemblance, we should like to know, can be traced 
 between the reserve and melancholy of the Dane, 
 the loquacity and sprightliness of the Swede, so 
 justly styled the Frenchman of the north. And, in 
 the contiguous government of China and Japan, 
 who will undertake to prove any similarity between 
 the habits and principles of these twq people. The 
 distance from Athens to Sparta, or Thebes, was not 
 so great, that many hours were consumed, even by 
 lazy travellers, before they reached those places. 
 Yet, in spite of the intimate connexion which 
 existed, at different periods, between those several 
 states, their national peculiarities were as striking, 
 as those of the English, the Welsh, the Scots, and 
 the Irish. A dyke of twenty-four miles, separates 
 us from the French ; the Englishman, however, who 
 sets his foot in Calais, finds there, as opposite a 
 set of manners and usages, from those of his own 
 country, as if he had already reached the central 
 province of France. If, then, England, and the 
 neighbouring country of France, present such an 
 uniform spectacle of dissimilar manners, it would,
 
 124, 
 
 assuredly, be the most paradoxical species of rea- 
 soning, to ascribe that contrast to the immediate 
 operation of climate, 
 
 We are persuaded, then, that the great and ' 
 striking diversity of manners between nations re* 
 moved from each other, as France and England, 
 must be attributed to the influences of moral causes, 
 by which are chiefly understood, the nature of the 
 government, the freedom or slavery, the affluence 
 or poverty, in which the people live ; their dispo- 
 sition to warlike or pacific habits ; their antipathy 
 to the commercial, or attachment to the fine arts. 
 The inhabitants of this country are alike famed, 
 throughout Europe, for their commercial spirit and 
 unbounded love of liberty ; yet he would justly 
 subject himself to the imputation of Ught-headiness, 
 who should place those qualities to the effect of its 
 climate, and not to the peculiar form of government, 
 to which it has been accustomed for ages, and to 
 which, though it has been changed for a time, yet 
 the nation has always reverted on the first oppor- 
 tunity. Montesquieu seems then, to us, to have 
 pushed his favourite theory, of the capability of the
 
 soil to infuse habits of government, to the very con* 
 fines of absurdity, when he attributes our impatient 
 disposition to the scurvy ; and to the cast of our 
 constitution, in which there is so much of the de- 
 mocratic mould, as to give us those notions of 
 freedom and independence, that we become restless 
 under any situation which imposes a restraint upon 
 our desires. 
 
 In the minority of Louis the Fourteenth, the 
 French parliament planned the following permanent 
 law : which was in the nature of a Habeas Corpus 
 Bill ; namely, that every prisoner, in twenty-four 
 hours after his confinement, should be examined 
 by the parliament, as to the purport of his crime. 
 But, because this wise and humane proposition was 
 but feebly supported, and, in the end, abandoned, 
 by the ministry of that day, are we justified in con- 
 cluding, from thence, that the parliament was in- 
 capable, from physical causes, of adhering to any 
 settled plan of liberty. We should think, that no 
 one who is conversant with the civil wars, which 
 raged when Anne of Austria held the French sceptre, 
 would subscribe to such an opinion ; as he must
 
 find abundant proofs, in the history of that period,* 
 to satisfy him, that the temporizing and vaccillating 
 character shewn by the honest p^rt of the parlia- 
 ment, was solely attributable to the despotism which 
 then prevailed in their government, in spite of all 
 the generous efforts which they had made to 
 temper it with a mixture of aristocracy and re- 
 publicanism. 
 
 The character, indeed, of a nation, in an ad- 
 vanced period of civilization, may be said to depend 
 almost entirely upon moral causes. The influence 
 of government, for instance, upon manners and li- 
 terature, cannot but be obvious to the most careless 
 observer. Under the baneful sway of an arbitrary 
 power, we look, in vain, for freedom of manners, 
 and conversation, even in the most indifferent cir- 
 cumstances of life. The bulk of the people must 
 there conform to the court-model. Its will must 
 be to them, the only rule of right or wrong, since 
 he who ventures to deviate from it, inevitably be- 
 comes the object of ministerial vengeance. A go- 
 
 * See Memoires de Anne d' Austriche, by Madame de Mottc- 
 ville, Tom. II.
 
 197 
 
 r 
 
 vernment of this description will shew as despotic a 
 controul in matters poetical, as political. When 
 the zealous irascible spirit of Cardinal Richelieu 
 had revenged itself on Corneille, by compelling the 
 French academy to censure his immortal produc- 
 tion, The Cid, instead of venturing to wage an 
 open war with the Cardinal, the poet seems to be 
 overwhelmed with terror and confusion at his pro- 
 ceedings, as we may gather from the following pas- 
 sage in his letter to M. de Boisrobert, the minister's 
 favourite ; " It is with the utmost impatience I look 
 for the sentiments of the Academy, to determine 
 the course which I may henceforth pursue ; since, 
 in the present interval, I cannot labour with any 
 confidence, and dare not hazard any word, without 
 trembling for my safety.* 
 
 It was the established practice in the governments 
 of Spain and Portugal, to prohibit the publication 
 of any work, without its first having undergone six 
 
 * J 'attends avec "beaucoup d* impatience les sentimens de 1'Aca* 
 demie ah'n d'apprendre ce que dorenavant je dois suivre. Jus- 
 ques le se ne puis traviller qu avec defiance et n'se employer un 
 mot en seurete, See P. Pelisson, Histoirc de 1'Acaderaie Fran* 
 coise.
 
 or seven official reviews. The superior genius of 
 Cervantes, Lope de Vega, or Camoens, might burst 
 through all such obstructions in their road to fame ; 
 yet it will, assuredly, not be contended, that in 
 those countries, where the Inquisition is appointed 
 the sovereign arbiter of the fate of all candidates to 
 literary glory, the people will discover the stale 
 abuses, or be encouraged to redress them, from the 
 scope and tendency of their writings. As well, 
 therefore, may we attribute the gloom and melan- 
 choly so observable among Spaniards, that foreigners 
 have made it their distinguishing characteristic, to 
 the influence of physical causes, and not to the 
 tyrannic spirit of their municipal laws,* as to deny 
 that sadness and melancholy are not associated with 
 solitude, joy and pleasure with society ; or that 
 the decline of the frank and libertine wit of 
 the old Roman comedy, was not chiefly owing 
 to the studied and cautious manners which the 
 artful policy of Augustus introduced, before he at- 
 tempted to undermine the authority of the people. 
 
 * It must give every friend of civil liberty no small degree of 
 satisfaction to reflect, that the above passages will be thought less 
 applicable to the present state of Spain.
 
 129 
 
 From these several observations, it will, then, ap- 
 pear, that we profess to belong to that sect, if we 
 may be allowed this expression, who are disposed to 
 circumscribe the influence of physical causes upon 
 the political constitution of states, within very narrow 
 limits. Man, in a state of barbarity, may be tu- 
 tored, in some degree, by the elements ; may be 
 allowed, perhaps, to imbibe certain habits and dis- 
 positions, from the air he breathes, and the food he 
 takes ; but, when he emerges from the condition of 
 a savage, and becomes familiarized to all the com- 
 forts and refinements of civil society, the connexion 
 between genius and climate, we then suppose, 
 ceases, or is felt onlv in the most remote degree. 
 For, if we consult the page of historic truth, it will 
 incontestibly prove to us, 
 
 ** Summos posse^ viros, ct magna exempla daturos, 
 ** Vervecum in patria ; crassoque subaere nasci.' M 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. X. Book 49, 50. 
 
 and that the poets of the north may aspire to as 
 conspicuous a place in the annals of fame, as those 
 
 * It must give every friend of civil liberty no small degree of 
 satisfaction to reflect, that the above passages will be thought less 
 applicable to the present state of Spain. 
 
 k
 
 130 
 
 of the south. Dante, Tasso, Ariosto, and Petrarch, 
 are the pride and glory of the Italians ; but let him 
 pronounce who is capable of reading their works 
 in the original, and those of Shakespeare, Milton, 
 Dryden, and Pope, whether our countrymen are 
 not entitled to a higher tribute of admiration, than 
 their rivals, on the same score of invention, a fa- 
 culty which, unquestionably, holds the first place 
 among the virtues of a poet. In a word, the dif- 
 ference between an ignorant and enlightened govern- 
 ment, cannot be more strikingly exemplified, than 
 in the various political institutions which the latter 
 glories in resorting to, for counteracting any of the 
 debasing influences of climate.
 
 131 
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 
 Of the rapid Growth of Methodism. 
 
 W E have, of late, been in the habit of witnessing 
 so many political convulsions, that those evils 
 which do not instantly threaten to overwhelm us, 
 excite no very lively sensations of alarm or indigna- 
 tion in our breasts. Else, before this time, a thou- 
 sand orthodox pens would have filled every corner 
 of this intellectual kingdom, with relations of the 
 various evils and dangers to which the church and 
 state were equally exposed, from the amazing in- 
 crease of Methodism. An evil of so great and 
 tremendous a nature, that, compared with it, the 
 catholic emancipation shrinks into total insignifi- 
 cance. 
 
 Our curiosity, then, is naturally prompted to 
 inquire, by what means a religious sect, in an age,
 
 , 132 
 
 the characteristic of which is certainly "not very fa- 
 vourable to the spirit of proselytism, should have 
 made such rapid strides, within the short space of 
 sixty years, as to number among its disciples, secret 
 and avowed, seven hundred thousand people ; 
 composed, however, chiefly of the low and middle 
 classes of the community. The term Methodist, 
 we know, strictly speaking, can only* be applied to 
 the followers of Wesley* and Whitefield ; but we 
 have used it in a more extensive sense, and under 
 that name designated all the evangelical dissenters, 
 who form what has been emphatically called, " the 
 combined armies against the church of England." 
 
 To this enquiry, we shall studiously endeavour 
 to bring a mind, divested of all those prepossessions 
 arising out of that reverence which we entertain for 
 the consecrated servants of our faith ; since it must 
 be admitted, with regret, that this most serious and 
 
 * A fellow of Merton College first distinguished Mr. Wesley 
 and his adherents by the appellation of Methodists, in allusion to 
 an ancient college of physicians at Rome, who were remarkable 
 for putting their patient under regimen, and were therefore called 
 Methodists.- See Cooke's Life of Wesley,
 
 133 
 
 important subject has been hitherto treated, with 
 only one or two exceptions, in a tone too magiste- 
 rial and virulent, to confer the slightest service 
 upon the interests of true religion. After a careful 
 examination, then, into the various causes of the 
 increase of Methodism, we are inclined to think, 
 that it has been chiefly promoted and diffused by 
 the seven' following: -1. The prejudices' of the 
 common people against episcopacy. 2. The Me- 
 thodist doctrines of the immediate and perpetual 
 interference of Providence, of experience, and jus- 
 tification by faith only. 3. Their class meetings. 
 4. Extemporaneous preaching. 5, Affected sanc- 
 tity and austerity of manners. 6. The imperfect 
 residence of the clergy of the established church.- 
 7. The domestic irreligion of the great. 
 
 The history of modern Europe has demonstrated j 
 that the ignorance and envy of ; the common people 
 are sure sources of establishing erroneous opinions 
 respecting religion. And, as it is not the peculiar 
 boast of this country, that the understandings, 
 even of the lowest members of society, are 
 enlarged by all the aids of education, and by its
 
 154 
 
 benign effects, or are exempt, in a remarkable degree, 
 from the vice of envy, we are not then to be sur- 
 prized, that the existence of those evils may be 
 brought forward as one of the causes, which have 
 afforded great facility to the Methodists, for prose- 
 cuting the vast designs which they have formed 
 against the established church. To indispose the 
 minds of men towards any institution, religious' or 
 civil, the most effectual way, we take it for granted, 
 is, to exaggerate its abuses. How often, then, do 
 we meet, in the publications of the Methodists, 
 the insinuation, and, in the preachings, the avowal, 
 although it be an article of their creed to write or 
 to speak nothing against our church establishment, 
 that bishops, in the plenitude of their wealth, their 
 power, their dignity, their arrogance, lose all re- 
 collection of the apostolic mandate, " to be blame- 
 less, not greedy of filthy lucre, nor lifted up with 
 pride and self-conceit ;" and that, instead of che- 
 rishing the poor, and considering them as their 
 brethren, they have no other object, but to amass, 
 and to aggrandize their own family. Yet these 
 accusations, the makers of which justly subject 
 themselves to the weighty charge of wilfully viola-
 
 135 
 
 ting the sacred obligations of truth, rarely fail to 
 experience a most favourable reception, with beings 
 whose mental faculties, for the want of cultivation, 
 exceed but little the cattle which they drive. 
 
 We know it to be generally conceived, that it is not 
 common to envy those, with whom we cannot easily 
 be placed in comparison. The peasant, it may be 
 justly imagined, would indulge in no animosity 
 against the bishop, whose walk of life is so different 
 to his. Yet, from crafty men ingrafting their own 
 pernicious prejudices upon his ignorant and unsus- 
 picious mind, he is taught to view the episcopal 
 bench with as much ill-will, as if it had given him 
 the most serious provocation to malice. This feel- 
 ing of the common people, generally speaking, may 
 be produced as a strong and conclusive proof of 
 giving them the. advantages of education ; for though 
 envy be a weed, that is more easily planted than 
 plucked up, we are sanguine enough to believe, 
 that, had the means of improving the understand- 
 ings of the poor been more encouraged, it could 
 never have been nurtured in their bosoms. Or, at 
 least, the bulk of them, we trust, would then have
 
 136 
 
 derived this important knowledge from being in- 
 structed in the art of reading, that difference of rank 
 
 
 in the church was by God's own appointment, and, 
 consequently, essential to the well-being of society; 
 and though the high magistrates of the church 
 could not be measured after the standard of those 
 in the apostolical age, yet the difference lays more 
 in a variation of modes and manners of life, than 
 in any departure from the learning, charity, and 
 benevolence, which characterized the saints of the 
 primitive church. 
 
 In confirmation of this remark, we need only 
 
 look to the valuable publications on matters of re- 
 
 * 
 ligion and morality, which have proceeded from the 
 
 pens of so many of the reverend bench, and to their 
 patronage and support of almost every charitable 
 institution in the kingdom, for the laudable and 
 public spirited use which they make of the greater 
 part of their revenues. Reasoning from this last 
 fact, the lajbourer and artizan would have seen 
 through that detestable cant of hypocricy which 
 would persuade them, that it so deeply compas- 
 sionated theff state, as to hope the period would
 
 137 
 
 come, when the whole of episcopal property 
 might be confiscated for their benefit ; but which, 
 at the same time, could drain them of their last 
 shilling, for the use of the Tabernacle. Can 
 any rational being read, and not be filled with 
 indignation and horror, at the dangerous ^iriflu- 
 ence gained over the minds of ignorant people, 
 by these fanaticists, that a poor man with a family, 
 earning only twenty-eight shillings a week, had made 
 two donations, >of ten guineas each, to the missionary 
 fund* This total indifference to the first of all 
 tender and social ties, in the case of this infatuated 
 individual, forcibly reminds us of the methodistical 
 exclamations of old Lady Lambeth, in the Hypo- 
 crite : " How has he weaned me from all temporal 
 connections. My heart is now set upon nothing 
 sublunary, and I thank Heaven, I am so insensible 
 to every thing in this vain world, that I could see 
 my son, my daughters, my brothers, my grand- 
 children, all expire before me, and mind it no 
 more than the going out of so many snuffs of a 
 
 candle." 
 
 i 
 
 * See the Evangelical Magatine for this extraordinary fact.
 
 The clergyman of the established church but 
 seldom dwells in his discourses upon the interference 
 of Divine Providence in particular instances, unless 
 they are closely interwoven with the downfall of 
 empires, or any other revolution which may affect 
 the happiness or misery of millions. Not that he 
 affirms the universe to be ruled only by general 
 laws, or denies the inspection and regard to terres- 
 tial affairs, of Him, " who is about our path, and 
 about our bed, and spieth out all our ways ;" " with- 
 out whom, not a sparrow falls to the ground, and 
 with whom the very hairs, of our head are all num- 
 bered." He knows God to be omnipresent, all-wise, 
 and all-powerful ; capable of governing and direct- 
 ing all things upon earth, with equal ease, whether 
 they be great. or small. But that he thinks to insist 
 upon the immediate interposition of his Almighty 
 Power, upon every trifling occasion, would lead to 
 the adoption of opinions, repugnant to his moral 
 justice, and, therefore, to true piety. 
 
 The methodist preacher, however, shuts his ears 
 against this sort of reasoning. What enlightened 
 minds have considered as the innocent amusements of
 
 139 
 
 a leisure hour, his gloomy soul turns from with as 
 much pious horror, as if they were polluted with 
 the stain of idolatry. Nay, God's avenging provi- 
 dence, if we listen to his narrations, would seem 
 to follow those indulgences. In the Evangelical 
 Magazine, which seems to be established for no 
 other purpose but the admission of the most extra- 
 vagant fictions of the children of light and grace, 
 the dear people, the elect, the people of God, the 
 pharasaical names by which the votaries of Metho- 
 dism distinguish themselves from the rest of man- 
 kind, we are instructed to believe, that a clergy- 
 man, for committing the heinous sin of playing a 
 game of cards, was punished by instant death. 
 u And it is worthy of remark," says the writer, 
 " that, within a very few years, this was the third 
 character in the neighbourhood, which had been sum- 
 moned from the card-table to the bar of God/' 
 
 We read, also* in the Methodists' Magazine, that 
 to the justice of offended Heaven, one of their 
 preachers, before his conversion, ascribes the acci- 
 dent of dislocating his shoulder, to partaking of 
 the healthy exercise of dancing. Let us take, also.
 
 140 
 
 the following instance, from ^among many others 
 equally satisfactory and important, of the encourage- 
 ment which the Deity gave to the Father of Metho- 
 dism (need I add the name of Wesley), to proceed in 
 his evangelical undertaking t " My horse was ex- 
 ceedingly lame, we could not discern what it was that 
 was amiss, and yet he could scarce set his foot on 
 the ground. My head ached more than it had done 
 for some months (what I here aver is the naked 
 fact, let every man account for it as he sees good) ; 
 I then thought, cannot God heal either man or 
 beast, by any means, or without any ! immediately 
 my weariness and head-ache ceased, and my horse's 
 lameness in the" same instant. Nor did he halt any 
 more, either that day or the next."* Ab hoc uno 
 disce omnes. 
 
 But whoever expects to read of the interests of 
 
 V 
 
 Methodism being materially advanced, without 
 any miraculous interposition, will be woefully dis- 
 appointed. All sorts of disorders, acute as well as 
 chronical, disappeared on the approach of their 
 
 * See Journal from July 20, 1735, to October 28, 1754, 
 p. 10.
 
 141 
 
 % 
 
 founder ; and a close and impartial investigation of' 
 his journal, warrants us in concluding, that he 
 principally founded his pretensions to the character 
 of a saint and apostle, from the numerous, pointed, 
 and particular proois of the divine approbation, 
 which he affirms were shewn to him in the course 
 of his ministry. Conformably, then, to the belief, 
 that the seal of Heaven was set to the truth of Mr. 
 Wesley's mission, his infatuated and ambitious 
 biographer,* Dr. Coke, in opposition to every dic- 
 tate of common sense, and to every restraint of 
 common shame, scruples not to tell us, that when 
 his preaching was interrupted by the clamour and 
 violence of a London mob, it was the declaration 
 
 * Without the influence, the name and even office of a bishop 
 seems to have been inadequate to the aspiring views of this fierce 
 sectary. See Nightingale's Portraiture of Methodism, p. 402, 
 406. Whoever finds himself hovering on the brink of Metho- 
 dism, we would seriously exhort to peruse his work, from which 
 most of the frets stated in this Essay are taken. The impulse of 
 an ardent mind seems to have urged the author of it to become 
 one of the evangelical preachers, before his reasoning faculties 
 had attained their full maturity. In that character, however, he 
 has been enabled to divulge most of the " secrets of the prison- 
 house," and justice requires, and truth permits us to add, that 
 rwne but the bigot and enthusiast can complain of his partiality. 
 See his Life of Wesley, p. 246.
 
 142 
 
 of Sir John Ganson, and the other Middlesex ma- 
 gistrates, that they had orders from above to do 
 him justice, whenever he applied to them. 
 
 There are some men who would depreciate the 
 highest excellencies of Christianity, if they could 
 be depreciated, by the manner in which they attempt 
 to set them forth. And, among this number, may 
 be surely reckoned that man, who could seek to 
 twist such an influence from an expression, which 
 could have no other meaning, but that the king 
 would not permit any of his subjects to be perse- 
 cuted on account of their religion. In many in- 
 stances, it is extremely difficult to distinguish be- 
 tween the delusions of enthusiasm, and the arti- 
 fices of imposture ; but here the traces of the lat- 
 ter are marked so plain, as to preclude the possi- 
 bility of mistake. 
 
 From the foregoing facts, it must be now suffi- 
 ciently evident, that this doctrine of the immediate 
 and perpetual interference of Providence, has effec- 
 tually contributed to the increase of Methodism. 
 It cannot, then, excite our astonishment, that the
 
 143 
 
 Methodist preacher should disdain having recourse 
 to the mild arts of persuasion and reasoning, or what 
 he terms head knowledge, for the purpose of calling 
 sinners to repentance ; when this doctrine presents 
 him with the means of adopting such a quick and 
 efficacious mode for their conversion. How flat 
 and unprofitable are all appeals to the sense and 
 reason of mankind, in competition with a doctrine 
 which, like this, so forcibly addresses itself to the 
 strongest of the passions, which announces instant 
 death to the players of whist, and dislocated shoul- 
 ders to the lovers of dancing. Is this not alone 
 sufficient to shake the stability of our established 
 pulpits, from whence we are never assailed with 
 the tears of such punishments, for such gigantic 
 crimes ; but, in their place, we hear such gross and 
 pernicious mistakes as the following : That there is 
 a Providence which controuls all human events, and 
 oftentimes brings good out of evil, but that it would 
 clash with some of the moral attributes of the Deity, 
 to believe he would condescend to be continually 
 occupied with our little concerns. To another 
 world we must look, then, for the correction of all 
 the apparent irregularities of the present system ;
 
 
 where, the good will receive their due reward, and 
 the wicked their due punishment. " Let not thine 
 heart envy sinners ; but be thou in the fear of the 
 Lord all the day long. For surely there is an end ; 
 and thine expectation shall not be cut off.'* 
 Prov. xxiii. 17> 18. Such are the irrational and 
 impious notions of these dumb* dogs, the Christian 
 epithet applied' by the evangelical teachers to the 
 clergy of the church of England. No wonder, then, 
 that our pastors should incur the severe censure 
 and reprobation of men, so renowned for superiority 
 of learning, and liberality of sentiments, as the 
 Methodists are admitted to be both by friends and 
 foes. 
 
 The second doctrine by which the Methodists 
 have so widely diffused their faith, is the doctrine 
 
 * No person, among the Methodists, shall call another he- 
 retic, bigot, or any other disrespectful name, on any account, 
 for difference of sentiment. See the fourth clause in the twenty- 
 ninth section of the General Minister, cited by Nightingale, 
 p. 263. From the scrupulous manner in which the preachers- of 
 the Tabernacle adhere to this rule, the difference between their 
 souls and those of the established clergy of England, may be 
 easily estimated.
 
 of inward impulse or emotions, or, as they term it, 
 experience; which certainly does not require any 
 minute discussion, or profound remarks, to shew, 
 if preached among the low and simple, must en- 
 gender in them the most excessive superstition, of 
 interested cunning. For, if credulous and ignorant 
 men are taught to ascribe every internal feeling to 
 the immediate agency of the Supreme Being-, there 
 can be little doubt but that those who embrace this 
 doctrine, are apt to fall into the vice of rashness, 
 and enthusiasm ; to mistake phrenzy for illumina- 
 tion, and the delusion of a distempered brain for 
 the impulse of the Spirit. The line of demarcation 
 here, indeed, is so small between the regions of 
 enthusiasm and madness, as to be almost imper- 
 ceptible. 
 
 During the meeting of a love-feast,* it is usual 
 for men and women to communicate their sweet ex* 
 periences* " I remember,* ' says the author of the 
 Portraiture of Methodism, " when I first attended 
 
 * We are told, that Mr. Wesley borrowed the practice of 
 holding the Agapae, or feasts of love, from the Moravian breth 
 ten. See Nightingale, p. 201. 
 
 L
 
 U6 
 
 one of these meetings, I thought, surely, a new 
 species of beings had come among us, in the form 
 of men, to tell what was passing in the realms of 
 light, and in the regions of darkness." The preacher 
 first opens the imposing scene, by relating his own 
 experience to the congregation. When he has 
 astonished his then mute and immoveable auditors, 
 with a full account of his apostacy from the chris- 
 tian faith, to the fast drawings of the Spirit, another 
 " dreamer of dreams" then rises, to tell w T hat the 
 Lord has done for his soul. Sometimes the effects 
 of a decent education, or a sense of modesty, will 
 occasion a young female, in reciting her trials, 
 temptations, backslidings, conversion, present feel- 
 ings, and future resolutions, to this assembly of 
 enthusiasts, to betray that sort of perplexity which 
 may be interpreted into reluctance to approve this 
 public confession, and yet into a terror not to 
 make it. 
 
 AttieSsv I/,EV otvrivaSai) 
 
 Iliad, Lib. vii.. v 93. 
 
 In such a situation, the feelings of the hesitating 
 female must be of the most agonizing kind ; for it
 
 147 
 
 is the unanimous sentiment of those, who have 
 obtained to Christian perfection, and entire sanctifi* 
 cation, that this unwillingness is solely to be attri- 
 buted to the influence of the deviL It is but rare, 
 however, that instances of this kind occur. In 
 general, the votaries of the Tabernacle discover such 
 eagerness to announce~the miraculous circumstances 
 which led to their separation from the carnal 
 people, the people of this world, that* from their 
 frequent practice of rising at the same time, the 
 preacher is often called upon to determine who shall 
 have the precedence, 
 
 Of the nature of the confessions that take place 
 at the meeting of the select bands, we are not per- 
 mitted to speak. Since they are as closely guarded, 
 as the secrets of free-masonry. We may, however, 
 suppose them to be of the most edifying kind, as 
 we are told, that these bands consist only of mem- 
 bers who have attained to what is called a state of 
 perfection, or, in other words, those who never, on 
 any account, or any occasion, or temptation what- 
 soever, commit the slightest sin, in thought, word, or 
 deed. It is somewhere recorded of Augustus
 
 148 
 
 Caesar, that, after a long and diligent enquiry into 
 every part of his immense empire, he found but 
 one man who was reputed never to have uttered a 
 falsehood. Upon which account he was deemed 
 worthy to be appointed chief sacrificer in the Temple 
 of Truth. Now we would as readily believe, that 
 the Emperor found whole provinces populated with 
 beings, who never spoke an untruth, upon any ac- 
 casion whatsoever, as the real existence of the fore- 
 going perfections among the select bands. What ! 
 shall we infants in goodness,* but giants in sin, im- 
 piously dare to affirm that, in this dissolute age, are 
 to be found among us those, in whom every religious 
 and social perfection is blended; when the wisest and 
 best are full of spots and blemishes, and when such 
 is the incurable frailty of human nature, that even 
 
 * The methodists are in the constant habit of making trium- 
 phant appeals to the Bible, as they conceive, for the justification 
 of their faith and practice. Let them try the experiment in the 
 following instance, and they will find many such sentences to 
 this effect: " For there is no man that sinneth not." 1 Kings. 
 " If thou, Lord, should mark iniquities, who should stand." 
 Psalm cxxx. 3. We had hitherto understood, that the necessity 
 of a Redeemer was solely founded upon this universal depravity 
 of mankind, and consequent liability to punishment.
 
 149 
 
 he* upon whom the Holy Ghost, as the spirit and 
 guide of truth, had descended, could not even then 
 conduct himself so as to be free of the slightest 
 sin, in thought, word, or deed. Moderation to- 
 wards those who differ from us in religious opinions, 
 is a feeling highly amiable, and cannot be too assi- 
 duously cultivated. Yet, if ever there was an oc- 
 casion to justify a departure from it, it is surely 
 against a sect, whose religion is fanaticism, ancl 
 whose arrogant claims to the real practice of supe- 
 rior piety and virtue, may be with as much justice 
 disputed, as that scheme of Doctor Darwin's to 
 uncommon sagacity, which proposed to mend the 
 climates of the frigid and torrid zones, by towing 
 ice islands from the pole to the equator, and of re- 
 gulating the winds by means of chemical mixtures. 
 The following passage in that first of French come- 
 
 * We allude to the fallibility, or rather to the gross prevarica- 
 tion of St. Peter, who, for fear of offending the Jews, with- 
 drew himself from the Gentiles, as if it had been unlawful for 
 him to hold conversation with uncircumcised persons ; notwith- 
 standing he knew, and was fully satisfied, that his divine Master 
 had broken down the wall of partition between the Jew and the 
 Gentile. " But when Peter was come to Antioch, I withstood 
 him to the face, because he was to be blamed." See St. Paul's 
 Epistle to the Galatians, chap. ii. 11.
 
 150 
 
 dies, Le Tartu ffe, SQ finely points out the distinc- 
 tion between hypocrisy and devotion, and is here 
 so particularly applicable, that the reader of discern- 
 ment will overlook its length, for the noble zeal 
 with which it pleads the cause of true religion. 
 
 II est de faux devots, ainsi que de faux braves, 
 
 Et comme on ne voit pas qu' a 1'honneur les conduit, 
 
 Les vrays braves, soient ceux qui font beaucoup bruit, 
 
 Les bons et vrays devots, qu'on doit suivre a la trace, 
 
 Ne sont pas ceux aussi qui font tant de grimace. 
 
 He quoi ! Vous ne ferez nulle distinction 
 
 Entre 1'hypocrisie, et la devotion ? . ^ 
 
 Vous les, voulez trajter d'un semblable language, 
 
 Et rendre me'nie honneur au masque qu' au viszige, 
 
 Egaler 1'artifice a la sincerite, 
 
 Confondre 1'apparence avec la verite, 
 
 Et la le fantome autant que la personne, 
 
 Et la fausse monnoye, a 1'egal de la bonne ? 
 
 Les hommes, la plupart, sont etrangement faits, 
 
 Dans la juste nature on ne les voit jamais. 
 
 La raison a pour eux, des bornes, trop petites, 
 
 En chaque charactere ils passent ses limites, 
 
 Et la plus noble chose, ils la gatent souvent, 
 
 Pour la vouloir outrer et pousser trop avant." 
 
 The third doctrine which calls for notice among 
 the methodists, is that of justification by faith alone. 
 A doctrine, which Mr. Wesley had imbibed from 
 his Moravian brethren, and insisted upon with such 
 vehemence, during the whole of his subsequent
 
 151 
 
 life; and which, his followers unremittingly labour 
 to prove our clergy have wilfully neglected, and 
 deserted, because they do not constantly press it 
 upon our attention in their discourses. We will 
 say, then, a few words respecting the historical part 
 of this doctrine, before we attempt to shew its 
 mischievous tendency in the hands of such people 
 as the methodists, 
 
 In our first general separation from the church of 
 Rome, the immoderate zeal of some well-meaning 
 but mistaken divines, had pushed the doctrine of 
 justification by faith alone, even to a height of ex- 
 travagance, under the notion of providing an anti- 
 dote for the poison which they conceived was in- 
 stilled by the papal doctrine of merits. And it is 
 well known, that the puritans in the civil wars, 
 carried this above-mentioned doctrine into a danger- 
 ous and impure antinomianism ; since it suited 
 their crafty purposes, first to depreciate morality, 
 and then to dispense with it. When, however, 
 monarchy was restored, the church of England, to 
 prevent, as far as lay in its power, the Gospel prin- 
 ciple of Faith being again abused, wisely endea-
 
 152 
 
 voured to restore morality to its injured rights. 
 Accordingly, the most eminent divines of that day 
 never failed to preach up morality, as forming no 
 less an essential part of the Christian system than 
 the gospel principle of faith. The effects of their 
 discourse were soon apparent in the conduct of the 
 people. Taught by these truly learned and pious 
 men, the duties which they owed to God, to them- 
 selves, and to society, the flame of fanaticism no 
 longer burnt in their breasts, and they became once 
 more satisfied, and obedient, laborious, sober chris- 
 tians. Such was the unequivocal good imparted to 
 the nation at large, by these divines, who, because 
 they taught their auditors to seek their way to 
 Heaven by acts of charity, as well as by high pro- 
 fessions of faith, received from the zealots of the 
 times, the inappropriate name of latitudinarians. 
 
 But since Methoq'ism has reared her ugly head, 
 the doctrine of practical righteousness is utter-? 
 ly out of fashion among the greater part of the 
 lower orders of the community. Now what an 
 irreparable calamity this circumstance alone, of in- 
 sisting upon the necessity of faith, and not of good
 
 1,53 
 
 works, may produce to this qountry at a future 
 period, if this sect should grow with its growth, 
 and strengthen with its strength, is for wiser heads 
 to predict. Perhaps, we may here be told, that in 
 preaching faith, the Methodists preach, at the same 
 time, good works, since the one cannot possibly 
 exist without the other. Not so, however, is the 
 conclusion of their infallible oracle, Mr. Wesley, 
 and, therefore, we may presume to add, not their* s 
 also. But that we may avoid the imputation, as 
 well as the danger, of misrepresenting his opinion 
 upon this important subject, we shall give it in his 
 own words : True religion does not consist in any, 
 or all these three things, the living harmless, using 
 the means of grace, and doing much good. A man 
 may do all this, and yet have no true religion.* 
 Yet, until our eyes had met with this declaration 
 of the modern St. Paul,-f we had foolishly enough 
 conceived, <k that pure or true religion, and unde- 
 
 * See Journal, from November 14th, 1739, to September 30th, 
 1741, p. 11, 12. 
 
 f An appellation by no means displeasing to those in the 
 Wesleyian connection.
 
 154 
 
 filed before God, and the Father, is this : to visit 
 the fatherless, and widow, in their, afflictions, and 
 to keep himself unspotted from the world/'* And 
 such, hitherto, has been our heathen ignorance, 
 (for our readers, no more than ourselves, must flatter 
 themselves that they have any real pretensions to 
 the name of Christians, unless they have been called 
 to a knowledge of Christ, under a sermon of Mr. 
 Wesley's, or his followers ;)^ that whenever our 
 spiritual pastors, appointed by law, have exhorted 
 us to remember, that faith without works, would 
 not secure the possession of eternal happiness, we 
 had imagined, they equally inculcated the precepts 
 of morality, and of the Gospel. f. " What doth it 
 profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, 
 and have not works ? Can faith save him ? If a 
 brother or a sister be naked, and destitute of daily 
 
 * St. James' Epistle, chap. i. v. 27. 
 
 f See Evangelical Magazine, p. 1 76, for an account of Mr. 
 Robinson's being first admitted into the church of Christ, under 
 a sermon by Mr. Venn. See likewise this Magazine, p. 380, for 
 the introduction of Christianity into the parish of Launton, near 
 Bicester^in the year 1807. 
 
 J St. James' Epistle, chap.xi. v. H - 17.
 
 155 
 
 food, and one of you say unto them, depart in peace, 
 be you warmed and filled. Notwithstanding ye 
 give them not those things which are needful to the 
 body, what doth it profit ? Even so faith, if it 
 hath not works, is dead, being alone/* 
 
 Upon so important a branch of the methodistical 
 hierarchy, as that of class meetings is, the reader 
 will look, perhaps, for that sort of detail, which 
 will serve more to satisfy, than to excite his curiosity. 
 That he may not, then, be entirely ^disappointed 
 in that expectation, we shall lay before him some 
 account of the origin of them, before we proceed 
 to enter into a survey of their present nature and 
 objects. 
 
 The origin of class meetings was instituted at 
 first with a view to effect only a temporary purpose ; 
 but the substantial benefits which they imparted, 
 soon made them common throughout the whole 
 connection. " I was talking," says the father of 
 methodism, " with several of the society in Bristol, 
 concerning the means of paying the debts there 
 (which had been incurred by building, &c.), when
 
 one stood up, and said. Let every member of the 
 society give a penny a week, till all are paid. An- 
 other answered, But many of them are poor, and 
 cannot afford to do it. Then, said he, put eleven 
 of the poorest with me, and if they can give any 
 thing, well ; I will call on them weekly, and if 
 they can give nothing, then I will give for them as 
 well as for myself ; and each of you call on eleven 
 of your neighbours weekly ; receive what they give, 
 and make up what is wanting ! It was done. In 
 a while, some of these informed me, they found 
 such and such a one did not live as he ought ! It 
 struck me immediately, this is the thing, the very 
 thing, we have wanted so long." For the reader 
 is here to learn, that, before this plan had been sug- 
 gested, Mr. Wesley's sharp-sighted eyes had spied 
 out that some wolves had crept into his flock, or, 
 in other words, there were a few, mirabile diclu, 
 who happened not to be quite animated with a zeal 
 like his, for the support and propagation of the 
 true faith. This plan, therefore, presented a most 
 favourable opportunity, which Mr. Wesley had 
 long ardently sought, but hitherto sought in vain, 
 qf getting rid of men, whose lukewarmness he was
 
 167 
 
 at times apprehensive might even communicate it- 
 self to those, who most faithfully executed his 
 mandates, and imitated his example. For luke- 
 warmness was ever contemplated by him with more 
 horror, than opposition. He that is not with me, 
 is against me, said the scourge of Europe to the 
 Elector of Saxony, when he wished to be ranked 
 by him as a neutral power. And upon that point 
 Buonaparte, and the warrior of God, seem to have 
 been of the same opinion. But to finish our 
 extract 
 
 " Accordingly," proceeds the saint, " I called 
 together all the leaders of the classes (as we used 
 to term them, and their companies), and desired, 
 that each would make a particular inquiry into the 
 behaviour of those whom he saw weekly. They 
 did so. Many disorderly walkers were detected. 
 Some turned from the evil of their ways, some were 
 put away from us. Many saw it with fear, and re- 
 joiced unto God with reverence. As soon as pos- 
 sible, the same method was used in London, and 
 all other places. Evil men were detected and re- 
 proved. They were borne with for a season. If
 
 158 
 
 they forsook their sins, we received them gladly ; if 
 they obstinately persisted therein, it was openly de-< 
 clared, that they were not of us* The rest mourned, 
 and prayed for them, and yet rejoiced, that as far 
 as in us lay* the scandal was rolled away from the 
 society." Such was the rise of class-meetings. 
 And as Mr. Wesley's disciples were fully persuaded 
 that he was born for no other purpose, but the spi- 
 ritual happiness of the whole world, whenever, 
 therefore, he spake, it was done ; whatever he com* 
 manded, stood fast. 
 
 The fair sex now compose a part of the class- 
 meeting of the present day. Like the female quaker 
 overseers, they take charge of their own sex only. 
 But as men*and women are generally associated to- 
 gether upon this occasion, the leader is, of course, 
 a brother. Prayer and singing being concluded, he 
 proceeds to arrest their attention by a circumstan- 
 tial account of his conflicts with the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil, during the preceding week. 
 And his experience is generally terminated with the 
 assurance, that the ruling passion of his soul is the 
 desire of walking closely with Christ. " After all,
 
 my dear brethren, I still find a determination in my 
 own soul, to press forward for the mark of the 
 prize of my high calling of God, in Christ Jesus. 
 He is still precious. His word is as ointment poured 
 forth. After all my short comings, my doubts, 
 and anxieties, my wanderings, weakness, and 
 weariness, his Spirit still whispers to my heart 
 Thou art black, but comely. Open thy mouth 
 wide, and I will fill it. Make haste, my beloved, 
 and be thou like a rose, or to a young hart upon 
 the mountains of spice ! So I still may say to my 
 sweet Jesus, 
 
 I hold thee with a trembling hand, 
 " And will not let thee go." 
 
 After this peroration, the next step in the pious 
 business of the evening, is for the leader to make a 
 categorical enquiry into the state of every soul pre- 
 sent. A mode of proceeding which, in our humble 
 apprehensions, is attended with far more injurious 
 
 consequences, than was ever occasioned among us, 
 
 i 
 
 by that relict of papal superstition, auricular con- 
 fession. But the methodists are so spotless, so ex- 
 ercised in the habits of chastity, and in all their
 
 160 
 
 institutions, the traces of perfect wisdom are so 
 discoverable, that nothing but the ignorance of ma- 
 lice, or of infidelity, could affect to believe those 
 confessions were so far from inspiring the love of 
 truth, modesty, and all the other moral virtues, that 
 they very often produced, especially among the 
 women, effects, which the real friends of Christia- 
 nity would blush to mention. The aid of vocal 
 music is then summoned; and in such hymns as 
 the following, the languishing spirit of devotion is 
 raised up to a pitch of enthusiasm, which none but 
 the enemies of our religion could possibly insult 
 and ridicule. 
 
 i 
 
 A MOURNER BROUGHT TO THE BIRTH* 
 
 " I'll weary thee with my complaints, 
 
 " Here at thy feet for ever lie, 
 " With longing sick, with groaning faint, 
 
 " O give me love, or else I die." 
 
 REJOICING. 
 
 <c My God, I am thine ! What a comfort divine ! 
 < What a blessing to know, that my Jesus is mine ! 
 ** In the heavenly Lamb, thrice happy I am ; 
 c * And my heart it doth dance at the sound of his name.
 
 161 
 
 " True pleasures abound in the rapturous sound, 
 *' And whoever hath found it, hath paradise found ; 
 ** My Jesus to know, and feel his blood flow, 
 " 'Tis life everlasting, 'tis heaven below. 
 
 *' Yet onward I haste to the heavenly feast, 
 ** That, that is 1^e fulness ! but this is the taste ; 
 '* And this I shall prove, till with joy I remove, 
 " To the heaven of heavens, in Jesus's love !" 
 
 *' Ah ! why did I sb late thee know, 
 *' Thee, lovelier than the sons of men ? 
 
 " Ah ! why did I no sooner go, 
 " To thee, the only ease in pain ? 
 
 " Ashamed I sigh, and only mourn, 
 
 <* That I so late to thee did turn." 
 
 A BELIEVER GROANING FOR FULL REDEMPTION., 
 
 " Lo ! on dangers, deaths, and snares, 
 
 " I every moment tread ; 
 " Hell without a veil appears, 
 
 " And flames around my head. 
 
 " Sin increases more and more, 
 
 ** Sin in all its strength returns, 
 *' Seven times hotter than before^ 
 
 " The fiery furnace burns. 
 
 ** Sin in me the inbred foe, 
 
 " A while subsists in chains; 
 ' ( But thou all my power shalt shew, 
 
 ** And slay its last remains. 
 
 M
 
 162 
 
 " Thou hast conquered my desire, 
 
 " Thou shalt quench it with thy blood 
 
 ** Fill me with a purer fire, 
 
 ' And make me all like God."' 
 
 * e O love ! I languish at thy stay ! 
 
 "I pine for thee with lingering smart ! 
 ** Weary and faint, through long delay, 
 
 * f When wilt thou come into my heart? 
 *' From sin and sorrow set me free, 
 " And swallow up my soul in thee!" 
 
 Under the impression of these pious songs, de- 
 votion kindles into one strong and prevailing passion 
 of enthusiasm. The uncontro verted, or those who 
 labour in the pangs of the new birth, and those 
 who are groaning for full redemption, then feel in 
 themselves that particular disposition of mind, 
 which prompts them to give a free vent to the soft 
 meltings of the heart. In short, every circum- 
 stance here is admirably fitted to prevent mem- 
 bers from sinking into listlessness, and not less 
 adapted for the purposes of conversion. Yet the 
 rational advocate for the establishment, who views 
 this meeting with an unprejudiced eye, sees no- 
 thing in it but a pretended zeal for religion, mixed
 
 163 
 
 with the wildest extravagances of error, and cannot, 
 therefore, be surprized at the number of ignorant 
 persons flocking to the standard of methodism, so 
 long as a class-meeting exists, to encourage the 
 wanderings of the fancy, and the visions of fana- 
 ticism. 
 
 In enumerating the causes, which have assisted 
 the influence of methodism, it might be justly re- 
 garded as an unpardonable omission, were we only 
 slightly to mention the extemporaneous preaching 
 of its ministers. Since, we will venture to say, 
 that here they have attacked the church on the side 
 in which it is most vulnerable. It will not be de- 
 nied, that the bulk of mankind are affected mostly 
 by externals. It is not the matter of a discourse, 
 but the manner of its delivery, which is calculated 
 to make an impression upon their senses. The very 
 ungraceful way, then, in which the generality of 
 the clergy of the establishment deliver their sermons, 
 may safely be pronounced to be one of the reasons 
 for the people deserting the church, for the conven- 
 ticle. 
 
 M 2
 
 But energy in the pulpit, is stigmatized by the 
 degrading epithets of foppish, and theatrical. It is 
 not orthodox to be animated in speaking of the 
 nature and attributes of God ; or of his blessed Son, 
 the friend and saviour of mankind, who came down 
 from Heaven to rescue us from sin and death. 
 What 1 shall the senator, in the mere support of a 
 turnpike bill, and the lawyer, in discussing a dry 
 legal point, express warm feelings as much by their 
 face, and gesticulation, as by their voice ; and 
 shall the servants of the Most High, in descanting 
 upon such sublime topics as those we have just now 
 mentioned, be still distinguished for their inanimate 
 elocution ? The great secret, says Quintilian,* of 
 moving the passions, is to be moved ourselves. 
 But how is it to be expected, that piety should 
 grow warm, when most of our clergy pray and 
 preach as if they were repeating words, instead of 
 inculcating sentiments ; when they suffer one dull 
 monotomy to pervade every period of their discourse, 
 for fear of being styled theatrical and affected ? Let 
 
 * Summa enim circa movendos affectus in hoc posita est, ut 
 tnoveamur ipsi. Lib. VI. Chap. II.
 
 165 
 
 those who consider it almost a species of heresy to 
 arouse the attention, and engage the heart by the 
 genuine look and voice of passion j only cast their 
 eyes upon the number of schismatics, who have 
 departed from the orthodox faith, and then deter- 
 mine whether tame or animated pastors, have most 
 contributed to the honour and increase of the 
 church. Such powerful effects may be traced) even, 
 from the appearance of being in earnest in the pul- 
 pit, that we are fully persuaded, if the generality 
 of the methodists did not mistake rant for energy, 
 instead of drawing after them the low and middle 
 orders of society, we should see their folly and im- 
 position countenanced even by persons of rank 
 and fashion. Whitfield surely would not have 
 numbered among his auditors, a Chesterfield and 
 a Bolingbroke, if he had owed his celebrity as a 
 preacher, entirely to stage trick, and extravagant 
 grimace. 
 
 If, then, that pillar of Calvinian Methodism 
 should have succeeded in making more converts 
 by the graces of his delivery, than by hiis doctrineSj 
 Thow just a matter is it of regret, to all who regard
 
 the establishment with the most friendly eye, that 
 so many of its clergy, from the sole dread of being 
 denominated popular preachers, should still afford 
 some just ground for wits and libertines to call 
 their churches public dormitories ; when the greater 
 part of them possess knowledge and abilities suffi- 
 cient to render the most essential service to truth, 
 virtue, and religion. For it is not, we contend, 
 the raphsodical nonsense* which the methodist 
 preachers pour forth, for one or two hours, without 
 the assistance of book, or paper, and the conse- 
 quent notion among the ignorant, that God's spirit 
 resides in them, and speaks from their mouth ; no ; 
 nor it is not the fulminations- which these ecclesiasti- 
 cal mountebanks let fly, without mercy or prudence, 
 of eternal tortures to the lukewarm, and wavering, 
 nor that disgusting bitterness of spirit, which leads 
 them to deal damnation around the land, that half 
 so much has brought over the multitude to their 
 
 * Tp such as are unwilling hearers of it, we would wish to 
 call to their remembrance the following consolatory couplet, of 
 Mr. Herbert, of pious memory. 
 
 If all wants sense, 
 
 God takes a text, and preacheth patience.
 
 167 
 
 party, as the fervour and animation with which 
 their perfect cant is delivered.* 
 
 As the methodists are, in as full a degree, pos- 
 sessed with the spirit of proselytism, as the Roman 
 Catholics ever were, and this mischievous zeal 
 
 * In a printed sermon of Mr. Adam Clark's, a man of great 
 authority, we believe, among the methodists, and certainly 
 deemed by them of great talents, the following expressions, we 
 suppose, are designed at once to terrify, and subdue into an im- 
 plicit obedience, those whose vices, or, we should rather say, 
 frailties, have been considered by the preacher to affect the cha- 
 racter of the society. " A damned spirit. A devil damned in 
 the abyss of perdition, in the burning pool which spouts cataracts 
 of fire ! Sinners may lose their time in disputing against the re* 
 ality of hell-fire, till awakened to a sense of their folly, by find- 
 ing themselves plunged into what God calls the lake that burns 
 with fire and brimstone. Many are desirous of seeing an inhabi- 
 tant of the other world, or they wish to converse with one, to 
 know what passes there ; curiosity and infidelity are as insatiable 
 as they are unreasonable. Here, however, God steps out of the 
 common way to indulge them. You wish to see a disembodied 
 spirit ! Make way ! Here is a damned soul, which Christ has 
 waked from the hell of fire ! Hear him ! Hear him tell of his 
 torments ! Hear him utter his anguish ! Listen to the sighs and 
 groaris, which are wrung from his soul by the torture he endures ! 
 Hear him asking for a drop of water, to cool his burning tongue ! 
 Telling you, that he is tormented in that flame, and warning you 
 to repent, that you may come not into that place of torture ! 
 How solemn is this warning ! How awful this voice. Hear the 
 groans of this damned soul, and be alarmed!"
 
 169 
 
 in them, we may remark, by the way, wants even 
 the wretched plea of the former, namely, the be- 
 lief of the infallibility of their church ; they soon 
 found, that to rivet firmly the bonds of subjection 
 on the multitude, which their preaching had first 
 imposed, it was also necessary that their lives 
 should assume the appearance of the most rigid 
 sanctity* Agreeably to this notion, the following 
 questions, among many others, are proposed to the 
 candidate for their ministry. " Do you enjoy a clear 
 manifestation of the love of God to your soul ? 
 Have you constant power over all sin ?- Are you 
 determined to employ all your time in the work of 
 God?" 
 
 In this last question, the secret dread which the 
 methodists entertain of all human learning, is suffi- 
 ciently evident to the most careless observer. The 
 acquisition of knowledge is, indeed, always fatal 
 to the reign of fanaticism and superstition. Mr. 
 Wesley was, therefore, perfectly right in not making 
 his lay preachers, scholars, as he was well aware, 
 that the improvement of their understandings by 
 reading and reflection, would, sooner or later, lead
 
 169 
 
 them to discover, that there were as many false 
 zealots in religion, as false patriots in politics. But, 
 perhaps, it would be more respectful to those 
 friends of the dear Redeemer* to conclude, that 
 they would be far from holding in utter con- 
 tempt all knowledge which was not useful to sal- 
 vation, unless they had received an especial com- 
 munication from above, that poetry offered nothing ' 
 but false or common thoughts, expressed in an ar- 
 tificial style ; history, doubts and uncertainties ; 
 physics, darkness; morality, obvious truths, or 
 dangerous paradoxes ; and metaphysics, vain and 
 frivolous subtleties, 
 
 If, then, these inspired teachers of the Gospel 
 are instructed to despise the erudition of this 
 world ; its pleasures, we may, of course expect to 
 find entitled to a large share of their detestation. 
 Balls, plays, and every species of public spectacles, 
 are considered as so many temptations to divert us 
 from the path of holiness, in the judgment of these 
 
 * For the free use of this familiar and irreverent expression, 
 in the Evangelical Magazine, p. 268, see an account of the reli- 
 gious hoy, which sets off every week for Margate,
 
 170 
 
 severe reformers " Dancing is not fit for a being, 
 who is preparing himself for eternity;'* and the 
 play-house is characterized as the habitation of the 
 devil. 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce, the great advocate for the me- 
 thodists, is pleased to say, " that even when moral 
 principles are inculcated on the stage, they are not 
 such as a Christian ought to cherish in his bosom, 
 but such as must be his daily endeavour to extirpate ; 
 not those which Scripture warrants, but those which 
 it condemns, as false and spurious, being founded 
 in pride and ambition, and the over-valuation of 
 human favour."* In a former Essay, an opportunity 
 presented itself, of which we cheerfully availed 
 ourselves, to offer our tribute of respect to the 
 public character of this gentleman, while, as a 
 writer upon the important subject of religion, we 
 have no hesitation to say, that even his faults are 
 derived from an excess of virtue. This declaration 
 will then, or ought, to satisfy the most suspicious, 
 
 * See a practical view of the prevailing religious system of pro- 
 fessed Christians, p. 306,
 
 171 
 
 that OUT objections to this most objectionable sen- 
 tence, must not be hastily and indiscriminately 
 ascribed to any undue partiality for theatrical* amuse- 
 ments, but to a persuasion, that the spiritual zeal of 
 the author has hurried him, in this instance, even 
 beyond the bounds of truth and benevolence. For, 
 surely, he will not assert, that all the precepts and 
 axioms delivered by the genius of a Shakspeare, in 
 those productions which will instruct and delight, 
 and, we had almost dared to add, edify the most 
 distant ages, are calculated to bring piety into 
 disgrace. 
 
 Many pieces are still tolerated, we grant, in which 
 we are at a loss to recognize the propriety of deno- 
 minating the stage, the school of morals and deli- 
 cacy, and which would justify the stern expression 
 of St. Augustin,-]* " that theatrical performances are 
 the blemishes of nature, the plague of reason, and 
 
 * It would be difficult even for Mr. Wilberforce to shew, 
 that all the sentiments expressed by Portia, in the Merchant of 
 Venice, and the Duke and Isabella, in Measure for Measure, are 
 such as a Christian ought not to cherish in his bosom. 
 
 t See De Civitate Dei, Lib. I. Chap. XXXI.
 
 172 
 
 the ruin of virtue." We are sensible, also, that a 
 moral sentence, tacked to the end of a play abound- 
 ing in licentious images, is calculated to do no more 
 good, than a pious expression, which drops from 
 the mouth of a dying man, whose whole life has 
 been one uninterrupted scene of wickedness. 
 
 But though this be admitted, and a great deal 
 more, yet the shutting up our theatres would not 
 a jot advance the spiritual interests, either of the 
 lower and higher classes of society ; since the former 
 would spend those hours at the ale-house, which 
 could not be passed at the theatre ; and the latter, 
 be immersed more than ever, in a round of folly and 
 dissipation. The moral character of no people' is 
 solely formed by precepts ; we may discourse very 
 wisely about the beauty of virtue, and the deformity 
 of vice, yet fail exciting even the attention of our 
 audience, much less " to open the sacred source of 
 sympathetic tears/* Whereas, let those qualities 
 be outraged on the stage, and our best feelings will 
 be most powerfully affected. Whatever, therefore, 
 contributes to inspire us with virtuous sentiments, 
 and this the stage does, we contend, with all its
 
 173 
 
 defects, though its practical influence may not be 
 very lasting, is, surely, not then to be regarded 
 as a " proof of our defective love of God." At 
 least, we believe, such is not the conclusion of the 
 bulk of nominal Christians, or, in other words, those 
 who are not illuminated by a single ray of the light 
 of methodism, 
 
 The pious indignation of methodist preachers 
 is not more excited by theatrical entertainments, 
 than by gay apparel, and sumptuous living. But 
 in censuring such things, the profane may be 
 tempted to suspect, that whatever fortune has placed 
 beyond their reach, is certain of incurring their 
 hatred. It is, indeed, no sign of a very elevated 
 mind, to substitute railing for reasoning, as they 
 do, in speaking of alt articles of luxury. But 
 this conduct, it must be acknowledged, is very con- 
 sistent in men who despise, or affect to despise, every 
 enjoyment which is not of a spiritual nature. The 
 reader will not, then, be astonished to hear, that 
 those who are ambitious of superior sanctity, and 
 who vainly aspire to " be all fair," to have no spot 
 jn them, consider, that the most certain way to
 
 174, 
 
 conciliate the good-will of God, in an eminent de- 
 gree, is to renounce the delightful freedom of social 
 intercourse, and to regard all trifling levity of dis- 
 course as a criminal abuse of the gift of speech. 
 Active virtues, with them, are destitute of any 
 value, or efficacy, when put in competition with 
 the merit of incessant prayer, which we have heard 
 wise men call incessant indolence ;* since the love 
 of action is a principle interwoven, as it were, in 
 our constitution ; and the chief use of prayer is to 
 implore the divine favour to our actions. We may 
 push the observation still further, upon the bad 
 effects of incessant praying, by concluding, that it 
 gradually and insensibly leads him who practises it 
 into a presumptuous belief, that God has selected 
 
 * Incessant praying might also be called excessive ignorance. 
 For surely none but the most deluded enthusiast can expect to 
 attain to an intimate acquaintance with God, by prayer without 
 study. *' Let no one," says that profound philosopher and de- 
 vout Christian, Lord Bacon, " weakly imagine, that men can 
 search too far, or be too well studied in the book of God's wordt 
 and works, divinity and philosophy ; but rather let them endea- 
 vour an endless progression in both ; only applying all to charity, 
 and not to pride; to use, not ostentation; without confounding 
 the two different streams of philosophy and revelation together." 
 See Vol. I. p. 18, Shawe's edition.
 
 175 
 
 him as an instrument to instruct and reform man- 
 kind : till, at last, fanaticism has firmly established 
 her dominion over his mind. It is related by Dio- 
 nysius Halicarnassensis, that the first Romans, in 
 order to prevent theological enthusiasm, enacted 
 that no one should be admitted into the sacerdotal 
 office, before he had accomplished his fiftieth year. 
 If none became methodist preachers before they 
 had arrived at that age, we will venture to pro- 
 nounce, that the true object of devotion, and the true 
 spirit of it, would not now be utterly lost, as it is 
 among them, in the futile and absurd opinion, that 
 they alone are the distinguished favourites of the 
 Father of the universe. 
 
 It will be no digression to conclude this part of 
 our subject with describing one of the many ways, 
 by which the number of methodists is augmented. 
 To diffuse the faith of Mr. Wesley, by every means 
 in his power, is part of the sacred duty of a prayer 
 leader, or exhorter. Accordingly, whenever he 
 and his party come to a place, where methodism is 
 embraced by none, or a few only, it is the business 
 j>f one of his associates, who is fond of smoaking*
 
 176 
 
 ' to call at some house, and to request the liberty of 
 lighting his pipe. A denial rarely accompanies such 
 a trifling request, and the stranger is also, of course, 
 often asked to take a chair, and to rest himself 
 while he lights his pipe* 
 
 An opportunity is then given him to introduce hi* 
 brethren, who are stationed close to- the house, by 
 saying, he should be happy to accept their offer, 
 but that his friends are in waiting for him at the 
 door. An invitation being made to them, the work 
 of salvation commences, by some one of the party 
 looking round to espy if there be any religious 
 books on the tables or desks. In short, few mi- 
 nutes are suffered to elapse, before the subject of 
 
 
 religion is started, in some way or other ; and, if 
 
 these missionaries be favourably heard, the banners, 
 of methodism are soon displayed in the village. A 
 prayer meeting is begun at the house ; and the next 
 step in the business of conversion, is the appoint- 
 ment of local preachers, whose successes pave the 
 way in due order for the admission of their travel- 
 ling brethren, when a liberal effusion of the Spirit 
 is the glorious consequence.
 
 The imperfect residence of the established clergy, 
 we are inclined to think, may be safely added to 
 those causes, which have contributed in a very con- 
 siderable degree to the progress of methodism. But, 
 in laying down this position, let us not be classed 
 among those, whose excessive zeal for personal re- 
 sidence, has led them to adopt the erroneous opi- 
 nion, circulated by the enemies of the church, that 
 the absolute desertion of the clerical office is a thing 
 by no means comparatively rare. That most men, 
 when not resident upon their own livings, are em- 
 ployed as curates to others, every well-informed 
 advocate for the revival of the statute of Henry VIII. 
 must be very ready to acknowledge ; but it certainly 
 does not follow, that the clergyman who is connected 
 with his parishioners only by a temporary or pre- 
 carious tie, does the same good as he who invari- 
 ably executes the duties of his own parish. The 
 cardinal virtue of residence, if we may so express 
 ourselves, we take, then, to be the increase of 
 moral and religious instruction among the lower 
 order of the people, and even the harsh interference 
 of legislative authority may, perhaps, be justified 
 
 N
 
 173 
 
 to effect so desirable an end. It must be abun- 
 dantly clear to all, that resident curates, generally 
 speaking, are not very remarkable for their profes- 
 sional activity. If they regularly perform the or- 
 dinary offices of the church, give an hour every 
 Sunday in the year for pulpit exhortations, and 
 answer the common occasional calls of parochial 
 duty, it seldom enters their heads, that they have 
 not discharged all their spiritual functions. The 
 wretched pittance, indeed, which most of them 
 receive, so ill-calculated to maintain even a distant 
 appearance to the state of a gentleman, in these 
 expensive times, and the consideration, that they 
 may toil all their life for the public benefit, without 
 advancing one step in the ladder of preferment, are 
 but weak inducements, we must confess, to any 
 gratuitous efforts for the instruction of their fellow 
 creatures. Circumstances^ unquestionably painful 
 and humbling, in every point of view, to the indi- 
 viduals to whom they may happen, yet serving 
 forcibly to point out the necessity of personal re. 
 s.idence, for the keeping alive a due sense of religion 
 in a parish,
 
 179 
 
 Now, on the other hand, a resident incum- 
 bent, if the qualifications of his heart be equal 
 to those of his head, is naturally impelled, from 
 a .variety of motives, to seek the promotion of 
 the spiritual interests of his flock, by the different 
 means of inspection and remonstrance. The cure 
 of souls with him, is a charge of no small respon- 
 sibility. The command of St. Paul to Timothy, to 
 " be instant in season, and out of season," is con- 
 stantly fresh in his remembrance. He considers it, 
 . therefore, as essential a part of his duty as preach- 
 ing, to lose no favourable opportunity of cultivating 
 a friendly intercourse between him, and those who 
 who are committed to his charge, in order that he 
 might be enabled to remedy certain disorders and 
 irregularities, which are of such complexion, as 
 cannot be openly redressed ; and especially for the 
 sake of acquiring that honourable sort of influence 
 over their minds, which will gradually dispose them 
 to read religious books, to strengthen and enlarge 
 their faith, by private and family devotion, and not to 
 forget, in the commerce and business of active life, 
 the unalterable principles of Christian charity and 
 love, This, and much more good, will be found, 
 
 N2
 
 180 
 
 on examination, to be done by many of our resident 
 parochial clergy ; and we may confidently add, 
 that those who possess good means of information 
 respecting that valuable class of men, will likewise 
 perceive, that this spiritual acquaintance with their 
 parishioners, is not effected by any of those low 
 arts, by which the Romish priests obtained such an 
 absolute sway over their laity ; and by which, the 
 religionists who form the subject of this essay, have 
 such a surprising ascendancy over their followers, 
 but by those free and unconstrained methods, 
 equally suitable to their characters as gentlemen, 
 and to their reputation for learning, common sense, 
 and rational piety.* 
 
 - 
 
 Were, then, the clergy induced to reside in suffi- 
 cient numbers, not by compulsatory statutes, but 
 by their haying proper houses of residence secured 
 
 * It is the remark of Bishop Watson, whose liberal spirit 
 corresponds with his solid judgment, arid extensive erudition, 
 *' that there are many among the poorest of the parochial 
 clergy, whose merits as scholars, as Christians, and as men, 
 would be no disgrace to the most deserving prelate on the 
 bench." See his admirable Letter to the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, in 1783.
 
 181 
 
 to them through the means of public and private 
 patronage, our church would then be fully enabled 
 to resist every open and insidious attack of its ene- 
 mies ; and, especially, of those sectaries who, un- 
 happily for themselves and the community, have 
 forsaken her sound tenets, to embrace others, which, 
 while they conspire to puff them with the vain 
 belief, that to them alone is given the inestim- 
 able privilege of discovering the true path of sal- 
 vation, yet have no tendency, Upon investiga- 
 tion, to render them better men, better Christians, 
 or better members of societv, than those, who 
 
 * * 
 
 have not been led, by artful insinuations, or au- 
 dacious invective, to depart from the national re- 
 ligion, 
 
 The domestic irreligion of the great, is the last 
 of the causes, to which may be referred the quick 
 and extensive diffusion of methodism. That the 
 fundamental principles of Christianity are not, in 
 general, early, strongly, and awfully impressed upon 
 the minds of the children of the rich, the powerful, 
 and the noble, is a fact as notorious as it is lament- 
 able. If, then, they are not trained from the tender 
 
 I
 
 182 
 
 morn of their infancy, to a knowledge of God, and 
 to habits of piety, we cannot reasonably expect to 
 see the precepts of the Gospel exemplified in their 
 conduct, upon their attaining the age of manhood. 
 Devoted to pleasure, the love of which, as Aristotle* 
 justly observes, is so nourished up with us from our 
 very childhood, that it is very difficult to withdraw 
 the mind from sensual objects, and to fix them 
 upon things remote from sense, they then Avant the 
 leisure, as much- as the ability, to enter into the 
 examination of the eternal truths of the Christian 
 religion. Should one of these sons of rank and 
 fashion, on occasion of any great sickness or do- 
 mestic affliction, reflect with some contrition on 
 his riotous proceedings, that false modesty, or, in 
 other words, that shame which hinders men from 
 doing what they know to be their duty, and the 
 dread of offending against custom, the law of fools, 
 will inevitably suppress the virtuous intention he 
 may have formed to amend his life. On the pagan 
 
 * " ETJ 3e ix vwia vrouriv VIMV vvfittycviftai n3ovj, 3<o xcu 
 Xatewov a7rolLf>i<pgt<r<xi Txlo TO TraSo; syxsKpuir/j.tvov TU@IU." 
 
 Ethics, Lib. II. Cap. II.
 
 183 
 
 principle, too, that the religion of the multitude is 
 entitled to external reverence, he sometimes attends 
 public worship ; yet he never hesitates to avow the 
 impious opinion, in the freedom of private conver- 
 sation, that the Christian religion is no more than a 
 system of superstition, invented only to keep the 
 vulgar in obedience, and supported by statesmen 
 for political purposes. In this lamentable ignorance, 
 in this frightful delusion^ he probably continues 
 until his " sins are as scarlet ;" for if he keeps a 
 mistress, his chaplain* more ambitious of temporal 
 than spiritual honours, and, consequently, more 
 complacent than sincere, will not dare to tell him, 
 the Gospel designates that, as whoredom ; and that 
 the same unerring book calls his intriguing, adul- 
 tery; 'and his duelling, murder. 
 
 Now the irreligion of the master is soon commu- 
 nicated to the servant. For there is the same apt- 
 ness in the latter to adopt the sentiments and prin- 
 ciples of the former, as there is to catch and imitate 
 his manners. Is it wonder, then, that when such 
 a person is led to the Tabernacle by curiosity, the 
 love of novelty, or any other motive, he should
 
 184 
 
 imagine himself placed in a new world, should in 
 time mistake the jargon of fanaticism displayed 
 there, for the perfection of real piety, and that, from 
 having no religion at all, he should become so scru- 
 pulous and over-righteous, as to doubt if it be not 
 an heinous sin to serve a master, whose numerous 
 avocations may sometimes require that he should be 
 inaccessible to visitors, when actually at home.* 
 Such is the effect of superiors setting an infamous 
 immoral example to their dependants and inferiors ; 
 it either renders them incurably wicked, or else 
 transforms them into methodists. 
 
 From this imperfect, but impartial view of the 
 rapid growth of Methodism, it will appear, this 
 pernicious heresy has taken such deep root, that its 
 spreading branches even threaten to over-shadow 
 the established church. Cottages, huts, woods, 
 moors, and even mines, have been visited by the 
 
 * "A gentleman's servant, who has left a good place because he 
 was ordered to deny his master when actually at home, wishes 
 something on this subject may be introduced into this work, 
 that persons who are in the habit of denying themselves, in the 
 above manner, may be convinced of its evil." See Evangelical 
 Magazine, p. 12,
 
 1.85 
 
 proselytizing activity of its professors.* In the army 
 and navyj" they have insinuated their doctrines with 
 most unexampled success ; and as it is alike indiffe- 
 rent to them whether they accomplish the downfal 
 of our establishment by open violence, or secret 
 stratagem, provided it be accomplished, it is a part 
 of their policy, we understand, to have a large fund 
 for the purchase of livings, to which ministers of 
 their own persuasion are of course always presented. 
 Many wise and pious divines are of opinion, that 
 every sect of Christians have their use ; inasmuch, 
 as by their means, each important religious truth 
 has the advantage of being set in a full light by 
 some party or other. But surely the propriety of 
 that opinion cannot be admitted respecting a sect, 
 which unceasingly labours to blacken and discredit 
 all those who did not adopt its tenets, which 
 
 * In delineating the particular doctrines of '* these self-sent apos- 
 tles," and in exposing their ambitious hopes, the Bishop of Ban- 
 gor has indeed justly remarked, ** that proselytism, not doctrine, 
 is their great object." P. 19. See the Charge of this highly es- 
 teemed, and truly learned Prelate, to his Diocese, in 1803. 
 
 f For their activity in those two departments of the state, see 
 the Methodist and Evangelical Magazines.
 
 186 
 
 Wretchedly destitute of intellectual culture, requires 
 its votaries to be hovering on the precipice of in- 
 sanity, before they can be righty prepared to come 
 to the New Birth ; a sect Which without restraint, 
 and without remorse, abuses the liberal indulgence 
 of our church, by professing to belong to it, 
 while it acts in open defiance to all established 
 rules, and lastly, which has impiously dared to 
 confine the future rewards of true piety solely to 
 its followers. 
 
 Of such a sect then, we shall not be afraid to 
 make this concluding remark; for never can it 
 become a sincere member of the establishment 
 to be ashamed of publicly contending for ortho- 
 doxy from the apprehension of being stigmatized 
 for a bigot, that while we readily allow the me- 
 thodists to be of the" most respectable reputations 
 in private society, yet as a body, their close hypo- 
 cricy and fraud, their violent and malignant zeal K 
 their arrogant pretensions to the true character of 
 primitive Christians, and their limited notions* of 
 
 * It was from a just dislike to the narrow tenets of Ace* 
 sius, that the emperor Constantine desired him to take a ladder,
 
 187 
 
 the mercy of the Almighty, entitle them to 
 pity and contempt of every man of liberal education 
 and understanding. 
 
 and get up to Heaven by himself. The ladder of this bishop, 
 we will venture to add, has been more borrowed by the metho* 
 dists, than by any other Christian sect.
 
 188 
 
 ESSAY VII. 
 
 On the Character of the fine Gentleman of the 
 present Day. 
 
 AT is worthy of remark, that those who have 
 carried their speculations to the changes of succes- 
 sive ages in manners, dress, and furniture, are pro- 
 digal in their censures against the preceding gene- 
 rations in these several particulars. This practice, 
 however, is perhaps 6ne of those, that would be 
 more " honoured in the breach than in the observ- 
 ance," notwithstanding the writers of the present 
 day have evinced a most laudable degree of perse- 
 verance in praising their own times, and despising 
 those of their fore-fathers. For though any one, 
 after surveying the condition of a savage, may thank 
 that Providence which cast his birth in a period of 
 civilization, yet, for ought we can tell, the formal 
 bow is not a fitter object of derision, than the vulgar 
 nod ; nor does it appear less difficult to associate the
 
 189 
 
 ideas of elegance and convenience to a velvet suit, 
 than to a plain broad cloth, or gothic to Egyptian, 
 chairs, and footstools. 
 
 Fashions, indeed, are as variable as the winds. 
 The writer, therefore, whose patriotism is of that 
 sublime nature, as to prefer his own times to those of 
 any other, will be cautious in commending what is 
 hardly known, before it is antiquated. He will, 
 rather, confine his eulogies to things, subject to less 
 sudden and violent revolutions, than decorations in 
 dress, and furniture. But even in his view of the 
 present manners, and in the causes ailedged for an 
 exclusive admiration of them, we are inclined to 
 suspect, that we shall discover his notions to be 
 
 more warped by prejudice, than directed by reason. 
 
 < 
 
 It may be amusing enough to see how far his 
 opinions are founded upon the principle of right 
 reasoning, with respect to the character of the fine 
 gentleman of the present age. In the days of Ad- 
 dison and Pope, an affectation of refinement in his 
 pursuits and pleasures, mixed with a solemn ibppery 
 of manners, a style of conversation congenial to
 
 190 
 
 camps or courts, with some pretensions to wit and 
 pleasantry, no great antipathy to free-thinkers, a 
 smattering in the polite arts and sciences, a thorough 
 ignorance of foreign states, conjoined, however, with 
 a decided predilection for every thing frenchified, an 
 ineffable contempt for the haters of dancing, music, 
 and fencing, and a behaviour full of politeness, de- 
 licacy, and benevolence, towards the female sex, 
 were held to be the distinguishing characteristics of 
 the fine gentleman, 
 
 From an indiscriminate application, indeed, of 
 that emphatic term, fine gentleman, the word is 
 seldom introduced, without being abused. The 
 requisites for obtaining this valuable appellation, are 
 so numerous, and placed so much above the com- 
 mon reach, that it is not at all surprising, a finished 
 gentleman should be considered as one of those ex- 
 traordinary characters, which are rarely to be met 
 with in real life. Possessed of all those mental 
 attainments which may qualify him to obtain the 
 title of a statesman and scholar, adorned at the 
 same time with all those elegant accomplishments 
 which are so seldom united in those, who are im,*
 
 191 
 
 mersed in trade, or engrossed in study, generous, 
 humane, and courageous in his disposition, natural, 
 easy, and dignified, in his manners, carrying the 
 same independent principles into the court of princes, 
 and the drawing-room of the great, as into the 
 humble cottage ; of habits extremely favourable to 
 plain dealing, and sincerity, and deeply impressed 
 with the force of moral and religious sentiments ; 
 in short, no mean proficiency in every department 
 of excellence must be evinced, to justify solid pre- 
 tensions to the character of a real fine gentleman. 
 
 Let us now then proceed to state, how far the 
 fine gentleman of the present day has benefited from, 
 the gifts of philosophy and literature, which have 
 been shed upon him in such great abundance ; and in 
 doing this, we must disclaim all idea of turning him 
 into ridicule, by an ex-travagant caricature, or to let 
 the desire of passing for a wit or satyrist, overpower 
 our love of truth. 
 
 So great a portion of the world aspire, to gentility, 
 that it would be now as difficult, as it was before 
 easy, to concentrate their number, when the Col-
 
 192 
 
 lege of Heralds imposed restraints upon the pro- 
 miscuous assumption of the title of Esquire. 
 The hitherto distinct orders of nobles and mer- 
 chants, seem now linked together by an indissoluble 
 tie. And, if between their taste in conversation, 
 clothes, or furniture, any difference can be fairly 
 established, it is, perhaps, to be placed on the mo- 
 nied side ; for this sentiment of Horace, has never 
 been more completely verified than in the present 
 age. " Nobilitas, sine re projecta, vilior alga." 
 When there are names enrolled in the livery and 
 companies of London, from which, the first cha- 
 racters might be justly proud of their descent, we 
 cannot be accused of insinuating, in what has just 
 now been said, that those who have sat in the 
 counting-house, or stood in the shop, are not en- 
 titled to aspire to the rank of Gentleman. On the 
 contrary, it appears to us, that the followers of the 
 mercantile profession, would have been still more 
 worthy of that respectable name, if so many of 
 them had not been transformed into nabobs and 
 stock-jobbers ; a set of men, of whom it may be 
 truly said, the primary and permanent motives of 
 their indefatigable exertions are, an exorbitant
 
 19S 
 
 love of gain, which however, it may ultimately 
 conduct to a state of independence and elevation, 
 is extremely averse to the acquirements of liberal 
 sentiments, and of liberal manners. 
 
 Licet superbus ambulat pecunia 
 For tuna non mutat genus. 
 
 Horace, Ep. Ode II. 
 
 It would startle the leaders of fashions if we were 
 to compare their occupations to those of the chil- 
 dren of Israel ; but it would puzzle many, perhaps, 
 who figure away in a distinguished circle of society, 
 to find, that they do any more " than sit to eat, drink, 
 and rise to play/'* After having made the grand 
 tour, more like a courier than a traveller, the next 
 step in the career of a fine Gentleman is, to com- 
 mence senator. To expect every man who takes 
 his seat in the House of Lords, or Commons, should 
 possess eloquence sufficient to maintain his charac- 
 ter as a debater, would be, doubtless, the acme of 
 absurdity. But, assuredly, it is not very unreason- 
 able to require, especially, at this momentous crisis, 
 that the young and fashionable mutes of those 
 
 * Exodus, chap, xxxii. 
 O
 
 194 
 
 assemblies, should be more conversant in the laws 
 of their country, than in those of Newmarket, 
 of Brookes's ; should sometimes think, that other 
 qualifications are indispensably necessary for the 
 guardians of the lives and liberty of millions, than 
 the skill to play at whist, and to calculate the odds. 
 Certainly, in the tremendous situation in which 
 this country is placed, it is no great stretch of in* 
 dignation to declare, we cannot even excuse the 
 fine Gentleman regarding the senate as a mere coffee- 
 
 o o 
 
 house, or place of lounge, however we may over- 
 look his indifference to its important decisions* 
 
 Profoundly ignorant as lie is in the whole science 
 of politics, yet in that of dancing, boxing, and driv- 
 ing, he can display a knowledge, zeal, and activity, 
 which entitle him to character, 
 
 " Above all Greek, above all Roman fame." 
 
 But a deep, broad, and permanent line of dis- 
 tinction must be drawn between the fine Gentleman 
 of that first nation and him of the present day, in 
 the multiplicity of their accomplishments. Since, 
 strange to relate, the former had an art of uniting, 
 what the latter has not yet found out even in this
 
 193 
 
 age of genius, and discovery, the seemingly replig* 
 nant attainments of dancing, and philosophy, boJc^ 
 ing 1 and poetry, driving and oratory. 
 
 Poetry, from time immemorial, has been con- 
 sidered the classical reading of the fine Gentleman. 
 But it is very doubtful to us, whether the Sybarite 
 of the present day, has any relish for it, at least 
 for its higher flights. Since we may fairly pre- 
 sume, that he who proscribes from his table all 
 topics of conversation except those relative to cards* 
 dice, or horse-racing, will more affect the composi- 
 tion of a Little, than a Cowper. While the pages 
 of such dull and uninformed writers as Hume, Ro- 
 bertson, and Gibbon, should he happen by chance 
 to cast his eye upon them, would be sure to operate 
 upon his spirits as a Sirocco wind.* 
 
 The stage is justly regarded as the school of ele- 
 gant criticism ; but according to the canons of haut 
 
 * The ennui, if we may be permitted to use this word, with 
 Which a Neapolitan is inspired during the continuance of a Si- 
 rocco, or south-east wind, is said to be so great, as almost to 
 extinguish passion. See Brydone's Tour, vol. I. p. 4. Kotzebue, 
 whose love of paradoxes and singular opinions, is as conspicuous 
 as his egotism, affects, in his account of Naples, to find this 
 wind vastly agreeable and invigorating. 
 
 02
 
 ton, a tale of sorrow is to produce no other effect 
 upon the fine Gentlemen, than a sneer of derision, 
 or a complacent survey of the folds of their coats ; 
 and by the same wretched perversion of taste and 
 feelings, a coarse joke or an impertinent piece of 
 buffoonry, is to be applauded, till they "almost 
 split the ears of the groundlings." 
 
 Politeness, in days of yore, was connected, per- 
 haps, with too many arts, to be graceful or easy. 
 But surely that was preferable to the unbounded 
 freedom of behaviour and kind of determined air 
 now assumed by the fine Gentleman. It is but 
 justice, however, to him to admit, that no small 
 share of this change must be attributed to the other 
 sex. There was a time, when a woman of exalted 
 rank would not have mistaken effrontery for dignity, 
 or despised modesty as a vulgar virtue. But now, 
 every thing is sacrificed for the love of notoriety, 
 If then a lady should happen to be offended with 
 some of the double entendres which assail her ears 
 from the mouths of these fine Gentlemen, or with 
 their impudent air or look, or should take no great 
 liking to hear her best friends pulled to pieces, all
 
 197 
 
 of which circumstances, we allow, are extremely 
 improbable, there is surely no right to complain of 
 an evil, which she has so largely contributed to 
 bring about. 
 
 The marriage knot is never drawn by the fine 
 Gentleman unless to repair his fortunes, Movov 
 pyupov fasvaiTi. While all his tenderest sympathies 
 are reserved for his mistress, who constitutes as es- 
 sential a part of his establishment, as his horses, 
 and carriages. Acquaintances, the fine gentleman 
 has in great abundance; but friends, none. For 
 independent of the absurdity of loving an object 
 which we cannot esteem, who would court the af- 
 fections of so dangerous and capricious a being, as 
 a fine gentleman ; since such are the sentiments of 
 honour which his erroneous notions of gentility 
 have instilled into him, that it would be as impos- 
 sible for him, on any slight or unintentional offence 
 from his friend, to substitute the benevolent delight 
 of forgiveness for the savage glory of aiming a pistol 
 at his head ; as it would, for a wild set of visionaries 
 to become at once rational and practical in their 
 schemes of improvement. While he is so completely
 
 198 
 
 the child of caprice, that what to day constituted 
 his chief pleasure, will to-morrow be insupportable 
 arid tormenting to him. Thus flying from one ex- 
 treme to another, he exhibits, by turns, all the in- 
 consistencies of human nature. If such be the 
 summer, what must the autumn of a fine Gentle- 
 man's life disclose ? A hideous void, which cannot 
 be filled up with new pleasures or sensual gratifica- 
 tions, while all those marks of esteem and vene-\ 
 ration, 
 
 ** Which should accompany old age, 
 
 ** As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
 
 *' He must not look to have ; but in their stead," 
 
 the silent contempt and derision of his children, and_ 
 dependents, and the open hatred of all those, who 
 are not afraid to practise the most unfashionable 
 virtues, in the most fashionable societies.
 
 199 
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 On Bastards. 
 
 A HAT there is a reigning* quality in every age, 
 has been demonstrated by the exploring genius of 
 history. If we turn to the annals of antiquity, we 
 shall discover, that heroism and cowardice, oeco- 
 nomy and dissipation, have been, by turns, the dis- 
 tinguishing characteristics of the states of Greece 
 and Italv. Much, however, as we are addicted to 
 extol the past, at the expence of the present times, 
 the remark may be safely hazarded, that human 
 nature is the same in all ages. The benevolent 
 sentiments of affection and friendship, the angry 
 passions of jealousy and envy, and the detestable 
 ones of malice, hatred, and rage, alike possess the 
 breast of the Hottentot and European. The cha- 
 racter of mankind has, indeed, been always com- 
 pounded of a mixture of virtues and vices, though
 
 200 
 
 at different periods they have appeared under dif- 
 ferent forms ; but upon the general character of a 
 particular nation, its government unquestionably 
 possesses a considerable influence, since it would 
 be the most striking of all political anomalies, for 
 the rulers of the state to be wise and virtuous, and 
 the people ignorant and profligate. 
 
 Every man who has looked upon the late debates 
 in the great council of the nation, will feel no hesi- 
 tation to avow, that the present age has but small 
 pretensions to that character of devoted patriotism, 
 which marked the actions of an early Roman, The 
 sense of a danger, the most unprecedented and un- 
 paralleled, that ever menaced this country, instead of 
 terminating party dissensions, seems to have re- 
 kindled them with greater fury than ever. No-*- 
 the balance of Europe will sooner be restored, than 
 an union of councils for the public good take 
 place between the leaders of opposition, and those 
 of administration. 
 . 
 
 Some writers have ventured to declare, that sel- 
 fishness is the ruling principle of this age. Others,
 
 201 
 
 with more confidence have affirmed it to be that -of 
 luxury, and have brought forward several instances 
 in support of their peremptory decision. But, as 
 it is the part of true wisdom to be careful in erecting 
 general theories from a few particular observations, 
 or appearances, we see every reason, from an ex- 
 amination of the particular cases adduced by them, 
 to consider such views as hasty and erroneous, and 
 to concur with those who think, that libertinism is 
 the distinguishing characteristic of the present 
 age. 
 
 In coinciding, however, with this conclusion, we 
 are fully sensible, that it admits of no small mo- 
 dification, and restriction ; yet, it is certainly to be 
 preferred to those, which have determined the cha- 
 racter of the present age to be that of selfishness, 
 or luxury. Upon the supposition, therefore, that 
 the majority in the low, middle, and high stations 
 .f life, in this country, are actuated by the dread- 
 ful vice of libertinism ; and many facts unfortunately 
 exist to prove, that this hypothesis is founded on 
 the basis of truth, we are naturally led to a view 
 of that unhappy state of beings denominated
 
 Bastards ; a theme which may be said to come home 
 to the feelings of almost every man. 
 
 According to the calculation of Dr. Colquhoun, 
 in his treatise on Indigence, it appears, that the 
 number of persons who are supported wholly or 
 partly by the bounty of others, amounts to more 
 than a million. If this computation be just, and it 
 seems too well founded to excite any suspicion of 
 inaccuracy, we may fairly estimate, that a great part 
 of this melancholy catalogue is swelled by those, 
 whose spurious birth deprives them of all rights of 
 society ; and upon whose misfortunes, which they 
 owe not to their own follies and vices, but to the 
 crimes of their parents, the most opprobious epithets 
 have been thrown, in almost every nation', and every 
 age. 
 
 But before we proceed to survey the condition 
 of Bastards, and to express our wishes, that th 
 legislature would adopt measures that should re- 
 adjust or re-model some of the existing statutes re- 
 lative to that description of persons, for assuredly 
 the attempt may be made without infringing upon
 
 203 
 
 any of those proud distinctions which are regarded 
 as the appendages of chastity, a cursory review of 
 the situation of Bastards in ancient times, will not 
 perhaps be here misplaced. 
 
 From the days of Homer down to the present 
 times, a mark of infamy, more or less, has been 
 affixed upon the issue of concubinage. It is true, 
 indeed, that in the earliest periods, instances have 
 occurred, of natural children being preferred, or at 
 least being put on an equal footing with the off- 
 spring of marriage. But we may fairly assign the 
 origin of such conduct in the father, to the concu- 
 bine having taken an entire hold of his affections, 
 by her beauty, or an amiable disposition, superior 
 to that of his wife. Under such circumstances, we 
 may suppose Telamon to be actuated, when he de- 
 clared his son Teucer worthy of a seat at his table, 
 T*f eovrct voSov,* although a bastard; -This solitary 
 example, nor even that of natural children succeed- 
 ing to their father's kingdoms ; in cases only, how- 
 ever, of failure in legitimate issue, cannot therefore 
 
 * See Iliad, Lib. VIII. line 284.
 
 204 
 
 be urged as a just reason for rejecting the belief oi 
 a practice, which has been confirmed by the whole 
 course of antiquity, 
 
 If we turn our eyes towards the republics of 
 Athens, and Rome, we shall not fail to discover, 
 that the laws made against Bastards, were well cal* 
 culated to inspire 'the minds of the people with a. 
 deep and lasting respect for the institution of mar- 
 riage. According to the jurisprudence of Solon, 
 the Athenian Bastard was declared incapable of as- 
 suming the name of his father, and likewise of in- 
 heriting any of his estates, and Was most rigorously 
 excluded from any interference in the affairs of go- 
 vernment. Still farther to widen the distinction 
 between the offspring of the concubine, and that 
 of the wife, it was established by the same lawgiver, 
 that those who had no legitimate sons, should be 
 compelled to give their estates to their daughters. 
 Some faint traces, however, of commiseration for 
 their condition are discoverable, in one of Solon's 
 laws, which allowed them a thousand drachmas, or 
 five Attic pounds. The prototype of this institu- 
 tion may be found in the twenty-fifth chapter of
 
 205 
 
 Genesis : " And Abraham gave all that he had unto 
 Isaac ; but unto the sons of the concubines which 
 Abraham had, Abraham did give gifts."* The be- 
 nevolence and equity of Solon are also equally to be 
 applauded, when he exempted natural children from 
 all obligation to relieve their parents, on the just 
 ground, that not the hope of a progeny, but the 
 indulgence of their sensual passions, was the sole 
 motive which led them to form an illicit^ connec- 
 tion. Instances, however, can be produced, where 
 the stern spirit of the law in Athens has been soft- 
 ened in favour of bastards. It is recorded by Aris- 
 totle, in his Politics, that sometimes the people 
 admitted these unhappy outcasts into the number of 
 citizens, in order to increase their power in opposi- 
 tion to the great. J And we have a remarkable 
 proof of the ascendancy which that eloquent states- 
 man, Pericles, obtained over the minds of the Athe- 
 
 * Genesis, rxv. 5, 6. A Bastard, by the law of Moses, 
 
 was expelled from the congregation of Israel. See Deuteronomy, 
 xxiii. 2. 
 
 f See Plutarch in Solone. 
 $ Lib. VI. Cap, IV.
 
 nians, when he could first persuade them to revive^ 
 the law introduced by Solon, viz. that the rights 
 and honour of a citizen should be exclusively con- 
 fined to those whose parents had before possessed 
 them, and afterwards in favour of his natural chil- 
 dren, to cancel it. 
 
 Such, then, was the condition of Bastards, in 
 the first state of ancient Greece. And, if we con- 
 template the Roman code of laws, the same op- 
 pression, the same exclusion from the rights of 
 society j, Will be found to mark their wretched des- 
 tiny. Between the tables of Solon, and those of 
 the Decemvirs, some striking similarities may be 
 traced ; although, perhaps, in the great and funda- 
 mental parts of their system, they widely differed. 
 But when Cicero* hesitates not to avow, that the 
 laws of the twelve tables are to be preferred to whole 
 libraries of the philosophers, and affects to contemn 
 the Athenian legislator, it might be reasonably ex- 
 pected, that the rule^ of right, and the fountain of 
 all public and private justice for so those tables are 
 
 * See De Oratore, Lib. I. and De Lcgibus, Lib. If.
 
 $07 
 
 styled by Tacitus* and Livy,f should contain some 
 positive injunctions, which fixed the condition of 
 Bastards in the scale of political beings. But no 
 such trait of justice appears upon the face of them. 
 The son of a prostitute, says the law, is to be ex- 
 cluded from the rights of the people.^ The only 
 act of benevolence which extended .towards his 
 state, and this is destitute of all pretensions to ori- 
 ginality, if we may credit the story of the tables 
 of the Decemvirs being borrowed from the laws of 
 Solon, is that, which bears an exact affinity to a 
 former quoted maxim of Grecian jurisprudence, 
 
 . Annalia, Lib. III. Cap. XXVIIL 
 
 f Hist. Rom. Lib. III. Cap. XXXIV. 
 
 . 
 J Ex meretrice natus, ne concionetur. Quintilian, Lib. VIII. 
 
 The reader must not here confound the son of the concubine 
 with that of the prostitute ; since the former might be legitimated, 
 and succeed to the sixth part of the inheritance of his putative 
 father. This commerce was therefore deemed an inferior sort of 
 marriage. 
 
 | Livy believes that three distinguished personages visited 
 Athens, under the administration of Pericles, for the above- 
 mentioned purpose. Hist. Rom. Lib. VIII. See the satisfactory 
 reasons assigned by Gibbon for rejecting this embassy. The 
 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Vol. VIII. P. 8, 9-
 
 208 
 
 namely, that the Bastard shall not be obliged to 
 toil for the subsistence of his uncertain father. . 
 
 ' 
 
 Quitting these periods of antiquity, and descend- 
 ing to the middle ages, we shall discover that the 
 manners of those times were far more favourable 
 to the condition of Bastards. In the eleventh and 
 fourteenth centuries, the spurious race of adul- 
 tery and prostitution are to be seen not only enjoy- 
 ing the honours and offices of public life, but from 
 their class, some of them even obtaining the sway 
 of kingdoms. To confirm this last assertion, it is 
 sufficient to cite the names of William the Con- 
 queror, and Henry of Transtamare, and John, grand 
 
 % 
 master of the order of the Avis ; nor did England, 
 
 Castile, or Portugal, ever attempt to dethrone these 
 monarchs on the principle of their illegitimate birth. 
 The barons of those days, indeed, would justly 
 have been subject to the charge of inconsistency, 
 if they had treated with contempt a name which 
 they gloried in assuming. Ego Bastardm> is some- 
 times an expression to be met with in old charters. 
 The appellative became a surname. The blood of 
 princes was, indeed, so much defiled by bastardies,
 
 209 
 
 that if we may believe the historian, Philip de 
 Comines, who flourished in the fifteenth century, 
 there existed in his time, but little distinction in 
 Italy between natural and legitimate children.* 
 " Blest be the Bastards birth,'* was an exclamation 
 which the poet might then have made use of, and 
 found it sanctioned by the truth of history. But 
 though the moralist may lament the fate of those, 
 who are deprived of their common rights for crimes 
 not their own, and rejoice when they are restored 
 to them, yet he would not wish to extend the cle- 
 mency of the laws so far, as to recognize the Bas- 
 tard's ri^ht of succession to the crown. Since no 
 
 o 
 
 maxim of modern policy is more incontrovertible, 
 than that the title of a sovereign cannot be too clear, 
 nor his birth too much respected. For with them, 
 the peace and welfare of future generations are 
 deeply connected. 
 
 In England, however, every condition seems to 
 be introduced by the municipal law, that could 
 
 V 
 
 * Mais il ne font pointe grand difference au pa'is d'ltalie, d'en* 
 font bastarde a un legitime. Tom. II. Liv. VII. P. 10. 

 
 210 
 
 render the institution of marriage dignified and ve- 
 nerable ; for it deemed all those to be Bastards, who 
 were born before wedlock. The civil and canon 
 laws were more indulgent to the frailty of human 
 nature, and acknowledged the legitimacy of the 
 child on the nuptials of his parents. When the 
 bishops, in the parliament assembled at Merton, in 
 the twentieth year of the reign of Henry the Third, 
 proposed to the earls and barons, that children born 
 before marriage should be esteemed legitimate, in 
 conformity to the canon law, the unanimous reply 
 was, We will not change the laws of England, which 
 have been hitherto used and approved.* It is, how- 
 ever, reasonable to suppose, that the peers would 
 not so hastily have pronounced a law, which throws 
 all the punishment upon the descendant of an un- 
 lawful conjunction, if the bishops, under the pro- 
 tection of their spiritual leader, the Roman pontiff, 
 had not made in that reign, several great and ef- 
 fectual efforts to establish the canon, upon the ruins 
 of the common law of the kingdom. They wisely, 
 
 * F.t omnes barones una voce responderunt, quod nolunt leges 
 Angliae mutare, quae hue usque usitatae sunt et approbate. See 
 Statute of Merton, 20 Hen. HI. Chap. IX.
 
 211 
 
 therefore, determined to embrace the first favourable 
 incident, of setting proper bounds to an attempt, so 
 injurious to their own, and the common interests. 
 
 By the Germans, many of whose usages and po- 
 litical institutions have been adopted with us, the 
 unhappy bastard was scarcely ranked among the 
 human species. But in Spain and France, he- 
 participated in almost all the rights of society^ 
 and was in some respects upon a footing with -le- 
 gitimate children. During the first and second 
 races of the kings of France, if a prince or noble, 
 acknowledged a natural child to be his child, this 
 simple confession was deemed equivalent to any 
 formaliegitimation. But the tyrannous inequality 
 of the law condemned the Bastards of an inferior 
 station, to a perpetual slavery or villainage. After 
 the succession of the Capetian line, the royal Bastards 
 were, however, no longer suffered to exalt their heads 
 above the level of their fellow-subjects. They were 
 no longer held to be of the blood royal, and every 
 extraordinary dignity was refused them, except 
 that of bearing the arms of France with a bar. A 
 similar limitation of honours, took place, with re-
 
 212 
 
 gard to the Bastards of princes and nobles. By an 
 ordinance of the year 1600, it was established, that 
 the natural children of nobility should not be ad- 
 mitted into the class of gentlemen, unless they ob- 
 tained letters of nobility. A more fortunate revo- 
 lution attended the plebeian Bastards. By the law 
 of that enlightened period, they were no longer 
 confounded with the rest of the cattle on the do- 
 mains of their masters ; but be^an to be considered 
 
 o 
 
 in the respectable light of free-men ; and if we ex- 
 cept the power of receiving and transmitting suc- 
 cession, it will be difficult to mention any privilege 
 which they did not enjoy with the rest of their 
 fellow subjects.* 
 
 Having now glanced at the laws which reason, 
 and prejudice more powerful than reason, enacted 
 against the namej* and condition of Bastards in an- 
 
 * See CEuvres de Chancelier d'Aguesseau, Tom. VII. p. 
 881. 
 
 f In England he is called base born, and thereupon some say, 
 that a Bastard is as much as to say, one that is a base natural ; for 
 aerd signifieth nature. See Coke upon Littleton, vol. 244. But 
 Sir Henry Spelman is dissatisfied with this derivation, and con-
 
 213 
 
 cient periods, we shall proceed to consider the pre- 
 sent rights, or perhaps, more properly speaking, 
 the incapacities of those, who have that stain af- 
 fixed upon their birth in this country ; and the 
 duties which the law imposes upon the authors of 
 their existence. The jurisprudence of England, as 
 we have before remarked, brands him with the name 
 of Bastard, who is not born in lawful wedlock. If 
 marriage, however, takes place within a few months 
 of the delivery of the child, the law is not so ri- 
 gorous, as to refuse to it the rights of legitimacy, 
 although it was ordained, that if the marriage hap- 
 pened subsequent to the conception of the child, 
 it should suffer the disgrace of bastardy. The rights, 
 if we may use that word, in speaking of these out- 
 casts of society, are so few, that they may be soon 
 enumerated. Regarded in the eye of the law as 
 
 siders it as a pure Saxon word, Bastardt, viz. impure natus, ut 
 apud nos, upstart dicitur homo novus. Sec Spelman's Gloss. 
 Bastardt. There is, however, great speciousness in some writers 
 supposing the word Bastard was derived from base-terred, or laid 
 on the ground, because such illegitimate offspring were not entitled 
 to the honours of filiation, till by the father taken up from the 
 ground. This ceremony was called in Latin, tollere, after which 
 the child was considered little, if at all, inferior to what is now 
 understood by lawfully begotten.
 
 214 
 
 the son of nobody, the Bastard is declared incapable 
 of inheritance, and succession. But although he is 
 not called to the inheritance of any possessions, it 
 does appear that the law authorizes him to gain a 
 surname by reputation.* 
 
 : 
 
 It is the evident object of the legislature, to have 
 perfect justice dealt out alike to all. But as this 
 is never attainable^ from the utter impossibility to 
 ascertain the punishment due to him, for instance, 
 who commits the crime of ingratitude,^ with a degree 
 of sufficient accuracy to satisfy the feelings of the 
 injured party ; nevertheless, to keep it constantly in 
 view, ought to he the fundamental principle of every 
 code. It may, therefore, be reckoned a rare species of 
 injustice, to deny the Bastard the rights of society, 
 and yet to fetter him with the same restrictions in, 
 the disposal of his person, as the law imposes on 
 all legitimate children. And this is done, when it 
 
 - 
 
 * See Blackstone's Commentaries, vol. I. p. 459. 
 
 t There, was a law in Athens to prosecute those for ingratitude 
 who did not retaliate kindnesses. See Potter's Antiquities of 
 Greece, vol.1, p. 170. How apparent is the utility of such a 
 law, but how impracticable its execution !
 
 215 
 
 declares, that if a Bastard marries under age by li- 
 cence, he must obtain the consent of his reputed 
 father, guardian, or mother.* 
 
 Of the incapacities of the Bastard, the principal 
 one may be* said to consist in being ordained the 
 heir to no one, and likewise of being incapable of 
 having any heirs, but those of his own body. For 
 as he is stigmatized by the law with the degrading 
 appellation of Jilius nullius, and sometimes Jilius 
 populi) he can have no legal ancestors ; and of 
 consequence, none can be entitled to succeed to his 
 vacant possessions, but those who claim a lineal 
 descent from him. But the civil law differs essen- 
 tially in this point, and grants to a Bastard the right 
 of inheritance, if after his birth, the mother was 
 married to the father. It still further proclaims its 
 humanity and justice, when it declares, that if the 
 father has no lawful wife, and if the concubine was 
 never married to the father, yet she and her bastard 
 son should both be admitted each to one-twelfth of 
 the inheritance. Nor does it expose the bastard to 
 
 * See Blackstone's Commentaries, vol.1, p. 458, note 11.
 
 216 
 
 any legal disqualification of possessing the whole 
 of his mother's estate, although she was never mar- 
 ried ; an indulgence which was founded on the 
 principle of there being no difficulty in ascertaining 
 who was his mother, whatever there might be in 
 ascertaining his father.* But, for what reason the 
 civil law should prohibit the Bastard from receiving 
 even a giftf from his father, in some cases, is a* 
 question, which we leave to be resolved by those, 
 who are more conversant in those nice distinctions, 
 so often made by law equity, to the total overthrow 
 of common sense, 
 
 In viewing, then, the municipal law of the 
 kingdom, and the civil law in regard to Bastards, 
 it is evident, from the differences already enume- 
 rated, that their chief outlines by no means concur; 
 and it must be confessed, that the latter seems much 
 more disposed than the former, to remove the badge 
 of infamy from that unhappy portion of the hu- 
 man species. The only decisive instance where 
 
 * See Blackstone's Commentaries, vol. II. p. 247. 
 t See Code, 6, 5, 7, 5.
 
 our law abates its severe tyranny against the bastard, 
 and seems to befriend him, is, when a man has two 
 sons, the elder of whom is a natural, and the other 
 a legitimate child. It then enacts, that if the fa- 
 ther die, and the Bastard enter upon his lands, and 
 enjoy them to his death, they shall descend by in- 
 heritance to his issue, to the utter exclusion of the 
 legitimate son and his heirs. Because it is not just, 
 observes that great oracle of jurisprudence, Lord 
 Coke, for a man to be bastardized after his death, 
 who has passed for legitimate the whole time of his 
 life.* But this rule is applicable only, when a man 
 has a bastard son, and afterwards marries the mother, 
 by whom he has a legitimate son. This order of 
 succession, though regulated by nature, was estab- 
 lished as a punishment to the mother, for her negli- 
 gence, in not dispossessing the Bastard during his 
 life time ; nor would the law give validity to the 
 title of any other kind of Bastard. Some trivial 
 indulgence our law also shews to the Bastard, in 
 the transmission of his property. It was formerly 
 
 * Justum non estaliquem post mortem suam facere batardum, 
 qui toto tempore vita sua pro legitimo habebatur. See Coke upon 
 Littleton, vol. II. 24 a.
 
 218 
 
 decided, that if he died intestate, and without wife 
 or progeny, the ordinary might dispose of his goods 
 in 'pios usos. But under those existing circum- 
 stances, it was considered, that the king was en- 
 titled to his private property, as administrator ; and 
 it was customary, for the crown to grant the admi- 
 nistration of it to some of the relations of the Bas- 
 tard's father or mother, reserving one-tenth, or some 
 small proportion of it.* Such, then, are the inca- 
 pacities of the bastard ; and if we add to the list, 
 that equity will not supply the defect of a surrender 
 of a copyhold to a natural, as it will to a legitimate 
 child, it must be obvious to every one, that the 
 legislature has scrupulously guarded against the ad- 
 mission of Bastards into the rights of society. 
 
 It would now be the most pleasing part of the 
 Essay, to represent the law, though hostile to the 
 political existence of the Bastard a yet laying its 
 parents under an obligation, to continue their sup- 
 port, until he had some certain means of suc- 
 ceeding in the world. But the more agreeable 
 
 * See Blackstone's Commentaries, vol.11, p. 506, note 9
 
 219 
 
 is the fiction, the more intolerable becomes the 
 reality. By the cruel equality of the law, for well 
 does it deserve to be called so in this case, the rich 
 parent is not obliged to make a greater provision than 
 the poor one for the natural issue of his body.* It 
 follows, therefore, that however qualified a Bastard 
 may be by his talents, for stations of respectability 
 and consequence, yet, unless his opulent father 
 be so far awakened to the sensibilities of nature, 
 as to remove those checks and impediments 
 which hinder his promotion, the abilities which 
 he possesses may be considered as so many curses. 
 Between the Bastard of the gentleman, and the 
 peasant, we do then contend, that a wise legisla- 
 ture should enforce some distinction ; and not deny 
 to the former trie opportunity of reaping some sub- 
 stantial advantage from his superior education, which 
 is effectually done, if, in a fit of caprice, prejudice, 
 or passion, the father should withhold that support 
 which, continued to a proper season, would have 
 enabled him to obtain that situation he had been 
 so long labouring for. Since the fact is notorious, 
 that there ace those in that description, who reflect 
 
 * See Burn's Ecclesiastical Law, vol. I. p, 132, note 5.
 
 as little on leaving a natural child to depend entirely 
 upon himself, and his own bodily and intellectual 
 energies, as the Turkish Emperor would do, on ex- 
 ercising his privilege of killing fourteen men a day, 
 without assigning any reason. 
 
 We trust, the remarks we have already made, 
 will be sufficient to demonstrate, that the Bastard 
 has no very powerful inducement to join in the ge- 
 neral praise of the unexampled impartiality and be- 
 nevolence of our laws. It is not even a paradox, 
 perhaps, to say, that the evils of a despotic, are to 
 be preferred by him to the blessings of a free go- 
 vernment ; for which is the most mortifying, to live 
 under a government clogged with a multiplicity of 
 restrictions and severities, and where the name of 
 liberty cannot be mentioned without the greatest 
 peril ; but to which, he is not more exposed than 
 the rest of the community ; or to be fixed in a free 
 state, but to see its inestimable privileges and ad- 
 vantages, respecting himself, rendered inoperative ? 
 This question, we should suppose, need only be 
 stated to be decided. Admitting, then, the po- 
 sition, that the Bastard has just ground of com-
 
 221 
 
 plaint of the disabilities and incapacities under 
 which he labours, it remains for us to consider 
 the reasonableness and expediency of relaxing 
 them. 
 
 They who refuse their consent to improvements 
 from an overstrained dread of innovation, will shut 
 their ears to all arguments, which can be advanced, 
 for the removal of the various privations of the 
 Bastard, and will be disposed to view those who 
 propose them, in the light of political theorists, 
 who are perpetually opposing crude and hasty con- 
 clusions, to the unerring deductions of experience. 
 Such men, indeed, let their feelings of humanity 
 be so completely stifled by the abhorrence of inno- 
 vation,* that with them, this is a question which has 
 no connection with any practical and moral pur- 
 poses ; or else, so perverted are their judgments, 
 by their ill-founded fears, that they would only class 
 
 * To persons of this description, the words of Canuleius are 
 peculiarly applicable. " Can no circumstances authorize inno- 
 vations ? .md must those things which have utility for their ob- 
 ject, not be done, because they have never been done before ?"- 
 See Titus Livius, Lib. IV. Cap. IV.
 
 S22 
 
 it with those, which are productive of the most 
 mischievous consequences. Not so do the advo- 
 cates of a more wise, and -just, and- liberal policy, 
 reason and determine. Though it is the peculiar 
 property and distinguishing characteristic of laws, 
 to be deaf to every voice, but that of the public 
 benefit, yet to throw upon a particular class of 
 beings all its weights, and none of its benefits, ap- 
 pears to them to be both unwise and unjust. It 
 likewise seems to them reasonable to maintain, 
 that our laws, in not paying any attention to the 
 wants and feelings of Bastards, have obstructed, 
 rather than promoted, the great cause of virtue and 
 morality. For as their race, from the licentiousness 
 of the times, is unfortunately so numerous, as to 
 comprehend a very considerable portion of the com- 
 munity-, no pains should be spared, no incentives 
 be wanted, to render them respectable members of 
 the state. At present, they are considered as little 
 better than the scum or off-scouring of society. 
 But if parliament, in its omnipotence^ would frame 
 a statute, which would give natural children a 
 legal claim on the property of their parents, it 
 would pave the way to make them better men
 
 223 
 
 and better citizens, and would ultimately check or 
 suppress those habits, which are abhorrent from the 
 inflexible rules of virtue prescribed by the laws for 
 the good of society ; nor does the recollection, that 
 if such a measure were to receive the sanction of 
 a law, how much it would intrench upon the tem- 
 poral advantages of legitimate children, at all abate 
 their desire of seeing it brought to pass ; since in 
 the fulness of their benevolence, the above class 
 of political reasoners maintain, that the evil ex- 
 perienced thereby, would not be commensurate 
 to the great and permanent good thus likely to be 
 effected. 
 
 1 
 
 Such, we believe, are the leading arguments of 
 these philanthropists. It is pretty evident, that the 
 legislature has imposed such restrictions on the Bas- 
 tard as are subversive of a spirit of just and social 
 pride, and of improvement among them ; and it 
 may likewise, perhaps, be rationally suspected, that 
 these restrictions are repugnant to the genius of a 
 constitution, which is ever disposed to reverence 
 the principles of justice and humanity. But as the 
 most plausible theories, when reduced to practice,
 
 are often attended with the most futile or pernicious 
 consequences, it may be questioned, whether the 
 evil resulting from an encroachment on the pecuni- 
 ary rights of the Bastard, could counterbalance the 
 good which a mitigation of the statute against him 
 might produce. Those, who in their blind admira- 
 tion of the ancient code of jurisprudence, are led 
 to shrink from every proposal of reformation, as wild 
 and dangerous, or to ridicule it as visionary and 
 absurd, most zealously contend, that the laws in 
 respect to Bastards, from the circumstances in which 
 they were formed, were entitled to be immortal ; 
 and boldly challenge their opponents to bring forth 
 an instance of a Bastard being legitimated by an 
 act of parliament, bating the exception of John of 
 Gaunt' s children. 
 
 But the British constitution has experienced a 
 mighty revolution since the days of King Richard 
 the Second. The enlightened statesman of the 
 present day, however strong a predilection he may 
 entertain for a system, the benefits of which have 
 been so well ascertained by experience, yet if some 
 errors and inconveniences, hardships and oppres-
 
 225 
 
 sions, are discoverable in certain parts of it, his 
 respect for that ancient system, will not carry him 
 so far as to oppose such remedies, as sound policy 
 and practical humanity shall suggest for their recti- 
 fication. Besides, we may venture to ask these 
 fierce and determined foes to innovation, how comes 
 it that if all the laws in respect to the Bastard are 
 meant to be immortal, that the one which declared 
 him incapable of taking holy orders, though that 
 was afterwards dispensed with, yet rigorously ex- 
 cluded him from becoming a dignitary of the church, 
 should now have slept for ages. 
 
 If, then, in times less favourable to the feelings 
 of justice and humanity, it was not deemed a sacri- 
 lege to abolish or render obsolete some decisions 
 relative to the Bastard, it will not, perhaps, be con- 
 sidered in the light of an objectionable position, 
 even to those who manifest the most inveterate dis- 
 like to proffered improvements, to advance, that 
 the modification of the laws in force against Bastards, 
 would stop up many avenues to abandoned wicked- 
 ness and profligacy ; would much contribute to 
 check that growing levity and dissipation of mind 
 
 Q
 
 226 
 
 which are the greatest impediments to all substan- 
 tial improvements in virtue and goodness ; and, 
 lastly, would promote the developement of the 
 moral energies among those, whom, the legislature 
 has only noticed in such a manner, as if their habits, 
 affections, and system of mariners, were as offensive, 
 as their condition is degrading and deplorable. In 
 Denmark, whose despotic structure of government 
 promises but little respect to the rights of those, 
 who are doomed to perpetual ignominy by the most 
 enlightened of all political constitutions ; yet, to its 
 eternal honour be it spoken* it is decreed, that na- 
 tural children should have half the property which 
 the law allows to legitimate children, and the whole 
 if there are no legitimate children.* May we not, 
 then, indulge the pleasing hope, that the period is 
 not far distant, when the august bodies, in whose 
 hands are deposited the legislative authority, will, 
 without losing sight of the land-marks which our 
 fore-fathers have set, deem it as unwise, as it cer* 
 tainly is unjust, to defraud of all political rights, a 
 set of beings, who seem hitherto fated- to complain 
 
 * See Catteau, Tableau des Etats Danois.
 
 227 
 
 of grievances, which become more galling, from 
 being unpitied, more intolerable, from being un- 
 merited.
 
 228 
 
 ESSAY IX. 
 
 Of the Qualifications requisite in an Ambassador. 
 
 1 HAT the French have not only become mas- 
 ters of the destiny of their neighbours, but even 
 established themselves in universal power, as much 
 by the effects of intrigues, as by the force of arms, 
 is one of those propositions which needs only to be 
 stated, in order to be fully admitted. And we are 
 afraid, it is not less abundantly clear, that we have 
 as much augmented the resources and dominions of 
 France, and completed the ruin of our allies, by 
 the conduct of our diplomatic affairs, as that we 
 are still able to baffle and defy all the attacks of that 
 overgrown power, and its train of dependents, chiefly, 
 or rather solely, by the means of our naval great- 
 ness. 
 
 It would certainly, then, be no very great ab- 
 surdity of reasoning to conclude, that as it is a
 
 229 
 
 distinguishing feature of the policy of France, in 
 respect to her foreign relations, to employ none but 
 men of the most manageable and imposing charac- 
 ters, the expediency of England exercising an equal 
 vigilant anxiety in the appointment of its ambassa- 
 dors, would be equally obvious even to those, who 
 are but superficially acquainted with this most im- 
 portant branch of politics. Yet, if we look with 
 an impartial attention to the history of our late con- 
 tinental wars, the events and termination of them 
 will but too unfortunately demonstrate, that no such 
 vigilant anxiety was displayed for the general good 
 of the community. 
 
 As it is, then, an established opinion, that able 
 men in this country, but with very few exceptions, 
 have not been, of late years, nominated to diplo- 
 matic stations ; to which circumstance, we presume, 
 a great portion of the late and present miseries of 
 Europe may be safely traced ; the attempt in us 
 may be pardoned, to exhibit a short sketch of those 
 parts, natural and acquired, which we humbly con- 
 ceive are indispensably necessary for the representa- 
 tives of our Sovereign to possess, in order that they
 
 230 
 
 may be qualified to discharge their high functions 
 with credit to themselves, and honour to their 
 country, An inquiry into the causes which have 
 led to that ignorance, so manifest and so deplorable 
 in our foreign policy, would, doubtless, be more 
 curious and interesting, than the picture we are 
 about to represent to our readers ; yet it will be as- 
 suredly recollected, that any such enquiry, even 
 if it were conducted with all possible decorum, 
 would inevitably entangle us in the discussion of 
 questions of too personal a nature, to be touched, 
 much less to be dwelt upon, in the form of a sober 
 and dispassionate Essay,- 
 
 From the vast range of knowledge necessarily 
 embraced by the science of politics, we should be 
 justified in considering, that no one could expect 
 to make any great proficiency, unless he brought 
 to it a considerable portion of inquisitiveness, un- 
 derstanding, and discernment. Yet it is worthy of 
 observation, that in no study, have we more smat- 
 terers, and fewer adepts. This observation may 
 particularly apply to our diplomatists in general. 
 In those clays, when France was only counted
 
 among the great powers of the Continent, without 
 possessing the least ascendancy over them, it was 
 customary for those who were enrolled in the diplo- 
 matic corps, first to become pupils, before they as- 
 pired to be masters. But when France began to 
 swallow up every other state that it could bring 
 within its grasp, by a singular defect of foresight, 
 we seemed more supine than ever in guarding against 
 the return of past evils, by not taking care to meet 
 its ambitious despot with his own arts, and to fight 
 him with his own weapons ; or, in other words, 
 to remove all inferior men from their diplomatic 
 stations, 
 
 Some persons we know, and sensible ones too, 
 in other respects, have persuaded themselves, that 
 a natural sagacity and a good reasonable judgment, 
 are qualifications sufficient for the post of an am- 
 bassador. Possessed of these, he may step forth, 
 they think, like Minerva from the brain of Jove, 
 all provided to become a fit representative of his 
 sovereign. But those, who are disposed to embrace 
 this opinion, take but little or no account of the 
 retrospect and comparison which is necessary to be
 
 made in all political matters, in order to acquire 
 that reasonable good judgment, or of the infinite 
 modifications and new combinations it is capable of 
 undergoing. In this assertion, we would not be 
 understood as saying, that no man can execute the 
 office of an envoy with success, unless he early 
 discovers that decided predilection for it, as Pascal 
 did for mathematics, or Vandyke for painting : all 
 we profess to urge is, that he would assuredly ex- 
 pose his ignorance and presumption, who should 
 imagine, that the duties of an Ambassador are .to 
 be properly discharged, and the dignity of his station 
 to be preserved, without his displaying that enlarge- 
 ment and expansion of intellect, and acuteness of 
 discrimination, which can only be the result of 
 having first read, and travelled much in his closet, 
 and afterwards looked upon men and affairs, in a 
 variety of countries, and a variety of views. 
 
 Before any one, therefore, can reasonably hope to 
 be distinguished as a diplomatist, or even venture 
 to assume the character of one, he should first 
 judge it expedient to visit the principal courts of 
 Europe, in order to inform himself, as far as lies in
 
 233 
 
 his power, of all those circumstances, which might 
 
 hereafter enable him to transact the affairs of his 
 
 \ 
 
 own country with the best possible advantage. Nor 
 is it unimportant to remark, that in this private si- 
 tuation he will stand the fairest chance of getting 
 rid of those vulgar misconceptions, and local pre- 
 judices, which, if he suffers to regulate, or even to 
 form a part of his official conduct, and this has 
 been, of late, too often the case, will produce con- 
 sequences more untoward from being unexpected, 
 and which cannot afterwards be averted by the wisest 
 plans, or the deepest stratagems. 
 
 It would be a rare species of absurdity, to ima- 
 gine an ambassador ignorant of the language of the 
 country to which he was dispatched. Yet a certain 
 appointment has not put this supposition beyond 
 the bounds of credibility. Upon such an appoint- 
 ment, however, no censure can be too great. For 
 occasions will daily and hourly occur, in the course 
 of an embassy, where if the head of it does not 
 display the minutest accuracy, both in conversing 
 and writing, the interests of his country may be 
 materially affected. If we attend also to the opinions
 
 of those, who are not disposed to see ' the urgent 
 necessity of an ambassador's possessing intellectual 
 attainments of the highest order, it will appear, 
 that our regret need not be very excessive, if the 
 stock of his historical information be but scanty and 
 imperfect. We are, however, led to believe, that 
 reasoning to be fundamentally erroneous, which 
 teaches us to think, that because in this critical 
 state of public affairs, events have arisen of a nature 
 so totally new and unlocked for, as to appear with- 
 out a precedent in the page of ancient or modem 
 history, the study of it is not calculated to fit a man 
 in an eminent degree for the office or business of an 
 ambassador. In tracing the springs of human con- 
 duct, that knowledge of the world which is com- 
 municated by experience, will, perhaps, in' many 
 cases, enable us to form a more successful judgment, 
 than that, which is derivable from history, and 
 books of speculation. Yet it is equally undeniable, 
 that he who has been accustomed to contemplate 
 with a philosophic eye the fortunes of nations, and 
 the revolutions of empire, which History exhibits 
 in successive order, will oftentimes act in transac- 
 tions of the highest import, with a promptitude^
 
 235 
 
 decision, and success, which will be set down by 
 the ignorance of spectators, as the effects of good 
 fortune, instead of being ascribed to the excellence 
 of that study, which teaches us to foresee events, 
 and of course to prevent them. As well, therefore, 
 may it be said, that active life is not the noblest 
 sphere of a great genius, as that a thorough acquaint- 
 ance with modern history must not be enumerated 
 among the primary acquirements of him, who as- 
 pires to pass the chief part of his life in important 
 embassies. But whatever difference of opinion 
 may subsist upon this assertion, we will venture to 
 affirm, the following one will meet the approbation 
 of all classes of politicians. That no prospect of 
 present or future advantage should induce any one 
 to go as an ambassador to a country, for whose cha- 
 racter, taste, or manners, he professes to entertain 
 the sentiments of aversion or contempt. Nor does 
 the possibility of their being either just or laudable, 
 at all compensate for the existence of this evil. 
 The whole train of domestic prejudices, and the 
 antipathies which they inspire, ought to be banished 
 from the recollection of the foreign minister, or else 
 his influence will be remote or feeble, in contributing '
 
 236 
 
 to the honour and interests of his particular nation, 
 and to the happiness of Europe at large. Far be it 
 from us, in this assertion, to insinuate aught per- 
 sonally disrespectful to those who have of late years 
 been employed in our foreign diplomacy, although 
 we shall never cease to contend, that he does but 
 half discharge his duty as an ambassador, who 
 neglects the opportunity which his local situation 
 affords him, of taking a near view of the intrigues 
 of contending factions, by mixing indiscriminately 
 with the heads of them, and thus of turning their 
 mutual jealousies and dissensions to the benefit of 
 his own country.* It was usual, in the diplomacy 
 
 * Whitelock*, in enumerating the duties of an ambassador, 
 observes that, among many other things, "he is also to inform 
 himself of the face and government of the country to which he 
 is sent ; the avenues by sea and by land ; where it is strong, 
 where it is weak ; where dangerous to an enemy ; what fortifica- 
 tions it hath by art or nature ; what the laws and privileges of the 
 people are ; what the trade is ; what their militia ; their revenue 
 and taxes, whether grievous ; what the affections of the people ; 
 what factions of the multitude or great men, whether upon 
 grounds of rule or religion ; what their foreign leagues are ; 
 whether their councils depend only upon the prince, or upon the 
 state of the country. And herein he must he wary, lest because 
 jealousy of his diving into the secrets of another state ; but he 
 must commend what is commendable, and create a belief of his 
 good wishes and affections to them." For this sensible passage,
 
 of the court of Louis XV. to employ an unaccre- 
 dited agent, whose reports were a check upon the 
 actual ambassador. Many good effects, perhaps, 
 would be produced by such a system of diplomacy, 
 being adopted in this country. 
 
 With more malice than truth, we hope, it has 
 been asserted, that our ambassadors shut themselves 
 up as closely in their hotels, as the Grand Sultan 
 does in his seraglio. Were this assertion true in its 
 utmost latitude, the causes of the French influence, 
 in almost every court on the Continent, prior to its 
 subjugation, might be easily inferred. For if a per- 
 son were ever so eminent in the talents fit for a di- 
 plomatic situation, but so immured himself, his 
 views would necessarily be bound to a narrow focus, 
 compared with him, who -made it his chief business 
 to be equally acquainted with the genuine passions, 
 interests, and desires of the favourites of the people 
 and the crown. In some cases, " fas est ab hoste 
 doceri." Had we, then, condescended to imitate 
 France in her policy of only calling the ablest of 
 
 see the Appendix to his Journal of the Swedish Embassy, vol. II. 
 p. 459,
 
 238 
 
 her subjects to the post of ambassadors, a policy so 
 obvious, as to have been adopted even in her re- 
 volutionary days, and since brought to such fatal 
 perfection, craft would then have been opposed to 
 craft, zeal to zeal, which would have been the only 
 sure way of correcting that turbulent, daring, and 
 wicked spirit, which has rent asunder the contexture 
 of almost every state. 
 
 But interest, and not superior merit, is the most 
 efficacious recommendation with us, alike to foreign 
 and domestic posts of great responsibility and honor. 
 Until, therefore, a complete reform be made in that 
 particular, we may look in vain, in the conduct of 
 our affairs abroad, for sagacity in forming plans, 
 firmness in executing them, boldness in encoun- 
 tering difficulties, presence of mind in improving 
 every occasional advantage, and for that cool nitre-, 
 pidity, which cannot be diverted from steadfastly 
 adhering to its object, by any sally of passion, 
 however sudden and extravagant.* In lieu of these 
 
 * To establish the Pretender upon the throne of England, Cardi- 
 nal Alberoni meditated the design of engaging the Czar and the 
 King of Sweden in a war with that country ; and when the famous
 
 qualities, we shall be certain, however, of finding 
 an hesitating, formal, and official spirit, which is 
 deliberating, while others are acting, and conceiving, 
 that the vital interests of a nation are best studied 
 and advanced, by a scrupulous attention to those 
 ceremonials, which, to use the emphatic words ef 
 Sir William Temple, himself a master of the diplo- 
 matic science, " seems to have been only raised and 
 cultivated by those men, who wanting other talents 
 to value themselves in the employments of Ambas- 
 sadors, endeavoured to do it by exactness or nicety 
 in the forms.* Now such punctilios, in their con- 
 sequences, remind us forcibly of the old tactics, by 
 which, the Prussians confidently imagined they 
 
 Lord Harrington carried to him a list of ships then lying before 
 Barcelona, which were to act against it, if he persisted in his 
 attempt of embroiling the peace of Europe, the rage of Albe- 
 roni was so excessive, that he snatched the paper from the hands 
 of the ambassador, and tore it into a thousand pieces. Not the 
 least disconcerted by this unexpected act, Lord Harrington calm- 
 ly proceeded with the thread of his discourse, ft comme je dis- 
 toit, Monseigneur. For this anecdote, see Memoires du Cardi- 
 nal Alberoni, p. 96. Such deliberate coolness is deserving of 
 praise and imitation, for oftentimes the safety and welfare of na- 
 tions depend upon it. 
 
 * See Temple's Works, vol.11, p. 387.
 
 240 
 
 i 
 
 should beat the French. But before the former had 
 even performed one of their tardy evolutions, the 
 quickness and energy of the latter had enabled them 
 to discharge their pieces, and rout their ranks. 
 
 Co-existent with such predilection for stiff eti- 
 quette, or rather arising out of it, is a disposition, 
 so proud and unbending, as even to indispose those 
 against us, who might else be inclined from disap- 
 pointment, hatred, or other motives, to espouse our 
 interests in the most open and cordial manner. The 
 necessity, indeed, of a negociator professing conci- 
 liating qualities, in critical and delicate missions, 
 has been lately so deeply felt, that it is impossible 
 to enumerate the evils which have been occasioned 
 to all Europe for the want of them. No man, per- 
 haps, better understood or practised the rare art of 
 living with his enemies, in such a way, as if they 
 were one day to be his friends, than the celebrated 
 Lord Chesterfield. In this respect, as in many 
 others, his diplomatic career may be quoted as a 
 model for those, who profess to think, that the 
 terms conciliating and dignified, are utterly irrecon- 
 cileable. And how subservient to the interests of
 
 241 
 
 his country he made those feelings, and that lan- 
 guage of conciliation, which he uniformly evinced 
 towards his public foes, may be partly attested by 
 the following passage, which, though long, is too 
 important to be mutilated. 
 
 \ 
 
 " Abbe de la Ville had abilities, temper, and in- 
 dustry. We could not visit, our two masters being 
 at war ; but the first time I met him at a place, I 
 got somebody to present me to him ; and I told him, 
 that though we were to be national enemies, I 
 flattered myself we might, however, be personal 
 friends. Two days afterwards, I went early to so- 
 licit the deputies of Amsterdam, where I found 
 Abbe de la Ville, who had been beforehand with 
 me ; upon which I addressed myself to the deputies, 
 and said smilingly, I am very sorry, gentlemen, to 
 find my enemy with you ; my knowledge of his 
 capacity is already sufficient to fear him, we are not 
 upon equal terms, but I trust to your own interests 
 against his talents ; if I have not had this day the 
 the first word, I shall at least have the last. They 
 smiled ; the Abbe was pleased with the compliment, 
 and the manner of it. He stayed about a quarter 
 
 R
 
 24-2 
 
 of an hour, and then left me to my deputies, with 
 whom I continued upon the same tone, though in 
 a very serious manner. I told them that I was only 
 come to state their own true interests to them plainly 
 and simply, without any of those arts which it was 
 'necessary for my friend to make use of to deceive 
 them. I carried my point, and continued my pro- 
 cede with the Abbe, and by this easy and polite 
 commerce with him, at third places, I often found 
 means to fish out from him whereabouts he was."* 
 
 Another evil, of no small magnitude, also arising 
 from an Ambassador's accustoming himself to un- 
 social habits, and to an unbending and unac- 
 commodating tone, is the following one : That, 
 if he entertains a suspicion that some secret league 
 is in agitation, to which he is not allowed to be 
 privy, from some of its operations being detri- 
 mental to the interests of his own country, no 
 other chance is presented to him of discovering 
 it, than that of offering a large bribe to some un- 
 derling of the court, whose profession is perfidy, 
 
 * See Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, Letter 858,
 
 243 
 
 and who, in the end, proves to be as absolute a 
 stranger to the league in question, and to the cha- 
 racters of the actors in it, as the Ambassador him- 
 self. Now, assuredly, this is a most weak, clumsy, 
 and ruinous mode of proceeding. Far better would 
 it be, in our humble judgment, for this legal spy, 
 a term which, however humiliating, may yet be 
 applied with the strictest propriety to the functions 
 of an Ambassador, to invite the most eminent per- 
 sons, of opposite political interests, to his table, 
 where, if he exemplified in his behaviour the fa- 
 mous Italian precept, volti sciolti et pensieri stretti, 
 it is more than conjectural, that, in the freedom of 
 intimacy, and in the hilarity of social enjoyment, he 
 would succeed in drawing from some one of his 
 guests, that sort of authentic information, which 
 would either satisfy him his suspicions of a league 
 being formed against his court were without any 
 trace of foundation, or else enable him to take such 
 measures, as would counteract the effects of it. 
 Such craft, if carried into the intercourse of private 
 life, would doubtless entitle those who practised it 
 to the severest reprobation ; but, in diplomatic 
 transactions, we are to conclude, it is amply justified
 
 244 
 
 by the principles of state reason ; since personages* 
 have not disdained to resort to it, who, in all 
 other occurrences, manifested a strong repugnance 
 to the arts of dissimulation. 
 
 The Athenians forbad, that the names of Har- 
 modius and Aristogiton, who had delivered their 
 country from the tyranny of Hippias and Hippar- 
 chus, should, ever be given to slaves. If our legis- 
 lature had decreed, at the commencement of the 
 French revolution, that none should receive pensions 
 for their diplomatic services, but those, whose me- 
 rits in that department were publicly acknowledged 
 by our enemies, we have no doubt, but that the 
 Ambassadors of this country would have made a 
 
 * Sir William Temple (see his Works, vol. I. p. 266) and 
 Lord Horatio Walpole (see Coxe's Memoirs of that Nobleman, 
 p. 465) have both conceived, that the best intelligence was to be 
 obtained in the convivial intercourse of the table. And though 
 the latter was a most rigid economist, yet for that purpose, the 
 same table was always kept in his absence by his secretary. We 
 have been informed as an indisputable fact, that an application 
 which a certain Ambassador made in the morning to Talleyrand, 
 was in the evening granted to his secretary, whose good fortune it 
 was to meet him at a friend's house, and who, in the freedom 
 of familiar conversation, had the skill to seize the favourable mo- 
 ment of urging his request.
 
 $45 
 
 greater figure in the eyes of Europe, than they have 
 done for these last ten years. 
 
 In short, then, " exoriantur legati" among us, 
 who will shew to Europe at large, that the perfec- 
 tion of diplomatic wisdom and skill does not consist 
 in a scrupulous adherence to antiquated usages, and 
 formalities, and to principles borrowed from less en- 
 lightened times, but in a general knovyledge of the 
 world, and the ways of men, in a behaviour equally 
 calculated to soften national pride, and prejudices, 
 and to win confidence and esteem, and in that 
 energy, decision, and firmness, which can alone lay 
 the foundation of successful conduct, in public as 
 well as private affairs.
 
 946 
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 Of the Duties of Attornies. 
 
 the importance of a man in the scale of civil 
 society, be weighed according to his power of in- 
 juring or benefiting his fellow-citizens, and such a 
 mode of estimate is pretty generally formed, it will 
 then appear, that those who follow the profession 
 of attornies, may reasonably arrogate to themselves, 
 no small pretensions to public notice. To demon- 
 strate the justice of this observation, we shall pro- 
 ceed to deduce the origin and nature of the legal 
 functions of an Attorney ; and then presume to 
 suggest a line of conduct for his adoption, which 
 would not impoverish his usual stock of gains, and 
 yet entitle him to the respect and gratitude of his 
 clients. 
 
 An Attorney at law, so called from atornatus, 
 which word implies, to be put in the turn of an-
 
 217 
 
 other, corresponds to the procurator or proctor of 
 the civilians, or canonists. In periods, when each 
 man took upon himself to avenge his private wrongs, 
 summary justice could be easily exercised. Every 
 suitor, therefore, was then obliged to appear in per- 
 son, to prosecute or defend his suit, we believe, 
 without exception, unless the king's letters patent 
 authorized his absence. But as soon as the litigious 
 disposition of men increased, and very soon we may 
 suppose that to have happened, it was "found expe- 
 dient to permit attornies to prosecute or defend 
 any action -in the absence of the parties to the 
 suit 
 
 To modern times, however, we must look for the 
 exertions of that corps being called forth by suitable 
 encouragements. For our ancestors had such fre- 
 quent recourse to the simple dictates of nature and 
 of reason, in the adjustment of their disputes, that 
 an act of parliament passed in the thirty-third year 
 of the reign of Henry III. expressly states, that, 
 before that period, .there had not been more than 
 six or eight attornies in Norfolk, or Suffolk ; in 
 which time, it remarks, great tranquillity had
 
 243 
 
 reigned ;* but the number had increased to twenty- 
 four, to the great prejudice and vexation of those 
 counties. It therefore enacted, that there should 
 be only six Attornies in Norfolk, six in Suffolk, and 
 two in the city of Norwich. 
 
 It is a truth, as rare as it is glorious, that England 
 is, perhaps, the only country upon the face of the 
 earth, in which justice, civil and criminal, is ad- 
 ministered with purity. And happy should we be 
 to add, that cheapness and dispatch were likewise 
 the inseparable concomitants of our judicature. 
 But the fact is not to be denied, however it may be 
 lamented, that the volumes of our law books are 
 swollen to such an enormous bulkiness, that few 
 purses can procure them ; and are so contradictory 
 one to another, in their sense, that still fewer ca- 
 pacities can digest them. When one volume, there- 
 "fore, brings us out of a labyrinth, the next, per- 
 
 * Quo tempore magna tranquillitas regiiabat. See Blackstone's 
 Commentaries, vol. III. p. 2$. The learned editor, Mr. Chris- 
 tian, adds, that as it does not appear this statute was ever repealed, 
 it might be curious to enquire how it was originally evaded. 
 Note 11.
 
 249 
 
 haps, will plunge us into another, more difficult to 
 unravel, than the famous Cretan maze. In short, 
 such is the multiplicity and intricacy of the statutes, 
 the variety of reports, the nicety of conveyancing, 
 the dexterity of pleading, and the confusion, un- 
 certainty, and expence these occasion ; that after 
 the defendant in a cause has obtained a verdict in 
 his favour, he is, perhaps, beggared by his success. 
 The well known line of Dr. Young may be quoted, 
 and, alas ! be reckoned no paradox : 
 
 " He is redressed, till he is undone.'* 
 
 If, then, the sons of sophistry and chicanery be 
 so successful in their arts, as to make fraud some- 
 times assume before juries* the garb of honesty, and 
 
 \ 
 
 * The unanimity required by a verdict in this country, in order 
 to make it legal* may, perhaps, in the case of a pleader blinding 
 the judgment of an obstinate and tenacious juryman, by the arts 
 above-mentioned, be productive of much real injustice. We are 
 not ignorant, that the sages of the law affirm, this unanimity 
 gives? great credit and weight to a verdict. But our wise ances- 
 tors, it will be remembered, thought otherwise, in the times of 
 Henry I. Henry II. and Edward I. For then if the jurors dis- 
 sented, sometimes there was added a number equal to the greater 
 party, and they were to give up their verdict by twelve of the old 
 jurors, and the jurors so added.
 
 250 
 
 so totally devoid of integrity, as never to reconcile 
 the common law to common sense, but when it 
 promotes their o\vn private advantage, and so ha- 
 bituated to embrace the bad side, that their tongues, 
 like swivel guns, are ready to be directed against 
 every quarter ; we must attribute no small share of 
 an evil pregnant with such afflicting and mischievous 
 consequences, to the conduct of attornies or solicit- 
 ors.* All general observations are, doubtless, liable 
 to exceptions. Nevertheless the fact is notorious, 
 that, although the majority, perhaps, of those, who 
 make our laws their study, illustrate and confirm in 
 their daily practice, the established maxim that 
 Actus legi nullifacit injuriam, yet the most plenary 
 evidence can be produced of numbers in the profes- 
 sion realizing the picture just now drawn. 
 
 In proportion, then, to the mischiefs arising from 
 the scandalous abuses exemplified by this decription 
 of 'persons, ought to be our indignation against 
 those who do all in their power to form and bring 
 
 * These names are indiscriminately used by most writers ; yet, 
 legally speaking, he only can be called a solicitor who is admitted 
 to practise in the Court of Chancery.
 
 them to maturity. Without acquiescing in the per- 
 nicious saying, that where much is alledged, some- 
 thing must be true ; we can, however, admit the 
 veracity of the assertion, that many attornies are 
 not only a disgrace to their profession, but a dis- 
 honour to mankind. Nor do we conceive it very 
 uncharitable in us to suspect, that few of them, on 
 the eve of being inrolled, are mindful of that statute 
 in the fourth year of the reign of Henry IV. which 
 enjoins, that none are to be admitted into their 
 order, but such as are virtuous, learned, and sworn 
 to their duty. In extenuation of overlooking that 
 statute in their conduct, and substituting low arti- 
 fice and obsequious insincerity in the place of dis- 
 interested honesty, it is but just to add, that the 
 whole of the fault does not center with them, but 
 some part of it must be given to that class of clients 
 whose riches are equal to their litigiousness, and 
 want of honour superior to >both. Such men as 
 these, and the race, it is to be regretted, is very 
 prolific, always wish to make, and often succeed in 
 making, their attornies disregard every consideration 
 of humanity and probity, which may obstruct the 
 gaining of their cause ; and always are accustomed
 
 to measure out their reward to them, according; to 
 the degree of villainy they have displayed for gaining 
 their ends. While wealth, then, is in the habit of 
 being converted to such purposes, are we to expect 
 that the grievances which the public have so long, 
 and so justly complained of, will soon cease. Can it 
 excite wonder, if the baits thrown out by those opu- 
 lent wretches (for, with them, " quid salvis infamia 
 nummis"J to a young man who has a fortune to seek, 
 and a family to maintain, have not a powerful effect 
 in determining the character of his principles. He 
 must be little read in the volume of human nature, 
 who cannot discover, that the temptation to become 
 an instrument of fraud and violence is too great for 
 him to withstand* Let us not, then, in expressing 
 our detestation, of the effects of their proceedings, 
 forget also to arraign the causes of them. 
 
 It is an observation, the truth of which has been 
 so generally admitted, as even to have passed into 
 a proverb, that a knave is only fit to be employed 
 in the concerns of the law. What a seeming in- 
 consistency is here asserted, and how humbling to 
 the dignity of the human character, that an honest
 
 253 
 
 man should be esteemed the most improper character 
 to be employed in a profession, with which the 
 existence and support of society are so inseparably 
 
 connected. 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 To rescue, then, the character of attornies from 
 this degrading imputation, and to enable them more 
 often to apply to their conduct the honourable words 
 of Rightly, in the Heiress, " When I detect wrong, 
 and vindicate the sufferer, I feel the spirit of the 
 law of England, and the pride of a practitioner," 
 we shall venture to think, that the practice of the 
 following rules, would go no inconsiderable way 
 
 to secure that most important and desirable end. 
 
 - 
 
 The law, in its origin, was doubtless designed to 
 distribute right to every one; and this is strongly 
 expressed in the Greek word vo/xo?.* The uniform 
 observance, therefore, of the principles of honesty 
 in their dealings, we would, in the first place, en- 
 deavour to impress upon the minds of attornies. 
 For though particular points of interest may some- 
 
 * Ano TS v/*j^ a distribuendo.
 
 times be accomplished by indirect cunning, yet it 
 must be generally admitted, that he who deviates 
 from the path of honesty, will seldom find this de- 
 viation rewarded by superior good fortune. . To 
 execute his business with reputation, an attorney 
 ought never to lose sight of those plain, simple, 
 and irrefragable principles of justice, on which, all 
 law is, or ought to be founded. He should, there- 
 fore, employ his utmost means, to discourage suits 
 for trivial or vexatious demands. He should mani- 
 fest himself so great a lover of truth, as to set his 
 face decidedly against the production of those sort 
 of witnesses, who are disposed to think, that a lie 
 is pardonable, if it be serviceable. He should feel 
 an abhorrence of brow-beating and intimidating the 
 adverse party, or of taking an advantage of an over- 
 sight in his counsel, or attorney, or of want of 
 form in the pleadings, unless when he is on the de- 
 fensive side, and his client's cause is the cause of 
 injured justice. He should not pride himself on 
 his dexterity in the infamous arts of misleading the 
 court, prolonging the cause, or enhancing the costs, 
 though at the expence of the opponent. And he 
 deserves to be pointed out to the scorn and
 
 cration of every honest man, if he encourages an 
 appeal from court to court, without having the 
 strongest conviction on his mind, that the decision 
 was completely unsatisfactory in the point of sub- 
 stantial justice. To be true, also, to his own 
 fame, and to the sacred rules of justice, if, while 
 the suit is pending, he should discover that his 
 client's claim or defence is ill-grounded, he ought 
 not to shrink from delivering it as his decisive opi- 
 nion, that the suit should be dropped against his 
 adversary, and with the same explicit plainness he 
 should add, if such adversary be poor or aggrieved, 
 by having his just right withheld from him, that 
 ample remuneration is strictly his due. It might 
 likewise be fairly said, that he was hostile to every 
 principle of humanity, who did not advise his client 
 to be merciful, when the law had securely fixed him 
 on the vantage ground, 
 
 In all criminal, prosecutions, an attorney ought 
 ever to .keep in mind, that though it is a primary 
 part of his duty to be prompt and resolute against 
 hardened and daring offenders, yet he is not less 
 bound to abstain from employing all reprehensible
 
 256 
 
 expedients for their condemnation. In giving ad- 
 vice on mortgages, or in any pecuniary concerns, 
 he would deservedly have much odium to bear, who 
 is not earnest from motives of compassion alone, 
 abstracted from all legal considerations, in discon- 
 tinuing usury, and every improper advantage taken 
 of the necessitous. When the debtor is insolvent, 
 it is the obvious duty of the attorney to promote 
 equality in the payments. And when it is clear 
 that a man [has fallen into poverty, by an unavoid- 
 able series of misfortunes, that circumstance ought 
 to operate upon the attorney, and call him to step 
 forward voluntarily, in mitigating any excess of 
 persecution and hostility, on the part of his cre- 
 ditors. 
 
 An attorney who cannot preserve a profound secre- 
 cy in settlements, and in family transactions, may be 
 considered as not only to have been guilty of one 
 of those improprieties, which are the objects of simple 
 disapprobation, but of one of those acts which en- 
 title him to meet the severest reprehension, from 
 the afflicting, and oftentimes fatal consequences, 
 which such a violation of trust occasions.
 
 $57 
 
 That many wives, daughters, and sons, have 
 well-grounded reasons to deplore, deeply to deplore, 
 the commanding influence possessed by attorniea 
 over their husbands and parents, in the disposition 
 of their estates by will, is an assertion unfortunately 
 too true, we fear, to be controverted, According, 
 then, to the amiableness or wickedness of the cha- 
 racter of the attorney, will be the great and irrepa- 
 rable good or evil done by him. If he be actuated 
 by virtuous intentions, instead of dwelling upon any 
 hasty sally of resentment dropped by a wife or child 
 against a husband or parent, in an unguarded mo- 
 ment, and thereby administering fuel to a flame, 
 which would otherwise have died away of itself, 
 he will omit the mention of no circumstance which 
 is likely to restore peace and happiness between 
 them. In short, it will excite in his heart, senti- 
 ments of the most deep and sincere disappointment 
 and anguish, to see any one disinherited, or de- 
 prived of his just portion, through passion, caprice, 
 or an unforgiving temper. Where extreme old 
 age, or long sickness, can give birth even to the 
 most distant suspicion of the testator's intellects 
 being affected, an upright attorney will take espe-
 
 258 
 
 cial care to procure witnesses of the most spotless 
 reputation. And under these circumstances, if he 
 does not discourage all artful requests which may be 
 made to such a person to bequeath his wealth to 
 charitable uses, his conduct will not be more offen- 
 sive to the opinions of honest and reflecting men, 
 than prejudicial to the interests of the surviving re- 
 lations. 
 
 If an attorney would thus discharge his duty, 
 his profession would then command that respect 
 which it really deserves. And the justice of the 
 complaint be no longer recognized, at least be con- 
 fined to a few, that the prosperity of attornies is a 
 libel upon the nation. 
 
 ' 
 We are not to be told, that for an attorney to act 
 
 - 
 
 in the manner we have pointed out, he has to en- 
 counter the low interests, the passions, the preju- 
 dices, and oftentimes the unjust reproaches of 
 mankind. In addition to these trials, no very easy 
 ones to surmount, another will present itself, in 
 which it is still more difficult to attain success ; 
 namely, that of acquiring such a complete dominion
 
 over his own passions, as to be inaccessible to every 
 present and apparent interest, that may in the least 
 endanger the establishment of his fame as an up- 
 right man. But in thus endeavouring to stand for- 
 ward in the cause of reason, and justice, and to 
 exert his utmost to serve his fellow-creatu'res, should 
 he be after all disappointed of his reward from the 
 good and virtuous, he will, nevertheless, secure 
 what is, however, of still more importance, the 
 approbation of his own conscience, and that of the 
 Supreme Legislator and Judge of the Universe,
 
 260 
 
 ESSAY XI. 
 
 On the Conduct and Character of Christina^ Queen 
 of Sweden. \ 
 
 JL HERE are few sovereigns in modern Europe, 
 who have been the subject of more applause and 
 censure than Christina, Queen of Sweden. The 
 voluntary abdication of her throne, has been viewed 
 by some, in no other light than as an infamous deser- 
 tion of her public duties, for the indulgence of ease, 
 and for the enjoyment of private pleasure ; although 
 others have professed to discern in that act, the 
 rare and laudable moderation of the true philoso- 
 pher. Her conversion to the Romish church filled 
 one half of Europe with grief, shame, and indig- 
 nation, and has induced the Protestants too hastily 
 to assert, that her mind, in the choice of her reli- 
 gion, was only influenced by a sense of interest. 
 While, from that circumstance alone, the Catholics
 
 261 
 
 saw a thousand excellencies in her character, in 
 which they would otherwise have found, perhaps, 
 nothing: but what was calculated to create alarm, or 
 
 o 
 
 to excite disgust. Her real learning has not been 
 more suspected, than her real chastity : although 
 the most unbounded panegyrics have been heaped 
 upon both. In short, every great and good quality 
 has been bestowed upon Christina by the zeal of 
 her adherents ; and every bad one, by the malice of 
 her enemies, 
 
 But though the immoderate aversion of several 
 Protestant writers had led them into unjustifiable 
 extremes, in speaking of Christina, yet it must 
 be confessed, that the character of the daughter 
 of Gustavus is too ambiguous to merit the too 
 ponderous quartos of her historian Arckenholtz.* 
 It is not our design then to fill whole pages with a te- 
 dious enumeration, as he has done, of every trifling 
 event in her varied life, yet with such a guide, and 
 with the copious materials which he has provided, we 
 may be enabled, in the shape of an historical essay, 
 
 * See Memoires sur Christine Reine de Suede, a Amsterdam, 
 175J.
 
 262 
 
 to lay before our readers those parts of her public 
 and private life, which are most deserving of their 
 notice. 
 
 Christina was scarce six years old, when a ball 
 at Lutzen, put an end to the victorious career of her 
 renowned father, Gnstavus Adolphus, who had 
 carried the desolation of war from the centre of Bo- 
 hemia to the mouth of the Scheld, from the banks 
 of the Po to the coasts of the Baltic, and had dis- 
 played to the oppressor of Germany, the Emperor 
 Ferdinand, the tremendous uncertainty of human 
 greatness. In the plan which the celebrated Oxen- 
 stiern, the friend and minister of that great hero, 
 drew out for the regency, we may discern a regard 
 for the rights of the nobility, and for the liberties of 
 the people, which reflects honour upon his memory, 
 as it shews his dislike to that form of government, 
 which invests an individual with an unlimited au- 
 thority. 
 
 At a very early age, Christina is represented to 
 have evinced a remarkable thirst of knowledge. We 
 are solicited to believe, that in her infancy she had
 
 made such great proficiency in the Greek tongue, 
 as to be capable of reading Thucidydes and Poly- 
 bins, and of comparing the different merits of those 
 historians. By the particular wish of the estates of 
 Sweden, a great portion of her time was also de- 
 voted to the study of the Bible, as that Book, they 
 justly observe, in an express memoir, is the source 
 of all other histories. It will not be expected, or 
 desired, that we should enter into any detail upon 
 the minority of Christina, nor upon the reciprocal 
 and perhaps equally just complaints between her 
 and her allies, when she had taken the reins of go- 
 vernment into her own hands; as the relation of those 
 circumstances would extend this Essay beyond its 
 proper limits. 
 
 One of the first acts of Christina's reign, which 
 we esteem worthy of remembrance, was, her con- 
 firming the title which Grotius had received from 
 the Chancellor Oxenstiern, of Ambassador to France. 
 By the fury of political and religious factions, that 
 illustrious scholar had been driven from his country, 
 and obliged to seek an asylum in France. Upon 
 his coming there, Cardinal Richelieu had given him
 
 264 
 
 a pension, but soon withdrew it, because he did 
 not flatter his literary talents,* Grotius had, how- 
 ever, attracted the notice of Gustavus Adolphus, 
 and, after his quitting France, he was received at 
 his court, with every mark of respect suitable to 
 his distinguished merit. In ratifying, then, the 
 appointment of her chancellor, Christina had the 
 satisfaction of rewarding a man of real genius and 
 virtue, in a manner correspondent with her great- 
 ness, of mortifying the Hollanders, whom she dis- 
 liked, and of deeply wounding the pride of the 
 Cardinal, by enabling the object of his aversion to 
 treat him with all the familiar freedom of an 
 equal. 
 
 [1647-] Devoted to letters, and possessed not of 
 the warlike spirit of her father, it is easy to con- 
 ceive, that the Queen of Sweden should feel ex- 
 tremely anxious for the conclusion of the peace of 
 Westphalia. The obstacles which retarded that 
 
 * The chief cause of the Cardinal's displeasure against Gro- 
 tius, arose from his having omitted to praise him in the Dedica- 
 tion of his immortal Treatise, De Jure Belli et Pacis, which he 
 inscribed to Lous XIII. of France.
 
 265 
 
 event, arose more, however, from the animosity 
 and jealousy of the different ministers, than even 
 from the infinite variety of interests, which they 
 had to adjust. Count Oxenstiern, son of the great 
 chancellor, and Alder Salvius, chancellor of the 
 court, were the plenipotentiaries of Sweden, and 
 greater division did not exist between them, than 
 among those of France and Germany. The first 
 was by no means disposed to exert his abilities for 
 the effecting a general peace, because he considered 
 the continuation of the war as no less favourable 
 to the glory of Sweden, than prejudicial to the sel- 
 fish views of France. On the other hand, Salvius, 
 the favourite of the Queen, warmly entered into 
 all her wishes upon that subject, and therefore en- 
 deavoured, as far as lay in his power, to frustrate 
 the designs of his colleague. We are told of a 
 discourse, Christina made to the senate, when she 
 appointed Salvius a member of that august assem- 
 bly, although he was of mean extraction, which 
 ought to be engraved in the hearts of all kings. 
 " When it is a question of good advice and safe 
 counsels," said she, " we do not demand sixteen 
 descents, but what is to be done. The abilities of
 
 Salvius would, doubtless, still be conspicuous, if 
 he could deduce his origin from persons of family. 
 He must then esteem it an honour, that no other 
 reproach can be made against him, but the want 
 of high birth. The assistance, however, of able 
 men is required by us ; if, then, the sons of rank 
 possess talents, they will make their fortunes as well 
 as those, whose strong claims of merit, must like- 
 wise supersede the ideal prerogatives of family/* 
 
 [A,D. 1648.] The peace of Westphalia was at 
 last accomplished, to the reciprocal satisfaction of 
 the greater part of the interested powers. No one, 
 however, was so violent in his expressions of anger 
 against the promoters of it, as Innocent X, for by 
 that event, were all his ambitious views thwarted, 
 which he had formed, as sovereign pontiff, of hum- 
 bling the pride of the Protestants. As a public 
 proof of his displeasure against the active part 
 which Christina had taken in that important affair, 
 he published a bull, in which he refused her the 
 title of the Queen of Sweden, and caused his nun- 
 cio at Vienna to post it upon the gates of that city ; 
 but the Emperor ordered it to be torn down*
 
 267 
 
 Innocent prudently offered no second attack with 
 his spiritual weapons against Christina. 
 
 Several advantageous proposals of marriage were 
 now made to Christina ; but her love of freedom 
 prevailed over any temporary inclination she might 
 have felt for that state. The King of Spain, Phi- 
 lip IV. was one of those, who sought her hand, 
 but he soon dropped his pretensions, on the consi- 
 deration, that if his suit were successful, it would 
 oblige him to abstain from treating the Protestants 
 as heretics. The courtship paid to her by her cou- 
 sin, Charles Gustavus, the Prince Palatin, was the 
 most agreeable to the Swedish nation. But, what- 
 ever was the motive, she soon came to the resolu- 
 tion of declining his proposals. In order, however, 
 that a stop might be put to the importunate 
 addresses which she received from her people, 
 to fix her choice of a husband, she prevailed 
 on the estates of Sweden to declare Charles Gus- 
 tavus her successor. By this step, she at once 
 freed herself from any further troublesome appli- 
 cations, on the part of her people, to change 
 her condition, ensured tranquillity to Sweden,
 
 268 
 
 and prevented all disputes with regard to the 
 accession. 
 
 [A.D. 16,50.] The excessive attachment shewn by 
 Christina to men of genius and learning, urged her 
 to seek the correspondence and society of the cele- 
 brated Descartes ; who was put in the expurgatory 
 Index at Rome, for having believed the astronomical 
 observations on the movement of the earth, rather 
 than the bulls of the Popes, and who was persecuted 
 in Holland, for having substituted the true method 
 of philosophizing, in the room of the jargon of the 
 schools. The precursor of Newton hesitated a long 
 time whether he should accept her invitation, as he 
 put his liberty at so high a price, that, according to 
 his usual expression, all the kings of the world 
 could not purchase it. The difference of climates, 
 also, was another principal reason, which deterred 
 him from undertaking a voyage to Stockholm. In 
 his letter upon this occasion, to M. Chanut, the 
 French ambassador in Sweden, and a most intimate 
 friend, he observes, that a man born in the gardens 
 of Touraine, and retired in a land where he had 
 less of honey indeed, but perhaps more of milk*
 
 2(59 
 
 I 
 
 than in the promised land of the Israelites, could 
 not easily resolve to quit it, in order to live in a 
 country of bears, among rocks and ice. 
 
 After some further delays and excuse's, the phi- 
 losopher, however, thought proper to repair to the 
 Swedish court. His reception there was such as 
 must have gratified his utmost pride. The Queen 
 exempted him from all the subjection and restraint 
 which are imposed upon courtiers, as she presently 
 found, they were not suited to his temper or cha- 
 racter. At five in the morning, she commenced 
 her studies with him, for the first part of the day 
 was invariably devoted to the improvement of her 
 understanding. As the chief of a sect, Descartes 
 expected all his opinions and his tastes to be adopted 
 by his disciples. It did not, therefore, meet his 
 approbation, that Christina should turn occasionally 
 from philosophy to the study of languages. He 
 could not, also, conceal his dislike, at her being 
 surrounded with such a crowd of pedants, as led 
 strangers to say, that Sweden would soon be go- 
 verned by grammarians. So freely did he remon- 
 strate with her on these two points, that he drew
 
 270 
 
 upon himself the resentment of Vossius, the in- 
 structor of the Queen in the Greek tongue, of 
 whom, our Charles the Second said, in derision 
 of his incredulity and superstition, that he believed 
 every thing except the Bible. Christina did not, 
 however, so far comply with the application of 
 Descartes, as to abandon her Greek books, although 
 she gave him such an obliging answer upon this 
 subject, that he still retained hopes of her submit- 
 ting in the end to his wishes. In the mean time, 
 she expressed such uncommon sentiments of regard 
 for him, and heaped so many marks of her favour 
 upon him, that, according to the scandalous reports 
 of the times, the grammarians of Stockholm acce- 
 lerated his death by poison. But science, we must 
 believe, has too close a connection with virtue, for 
 the commission of atrocious crimes to be often found 
 in the lives of scholars. 
 
 Christina now began to find, that, as Queen of 
 Sweden, more important tasks were allotted to her 
 than those of studying the learned languages, and 
 paying attention to learned foreigners. The embar- 
 rassed state of the public finances, occasioned by
 
 271 
 
 her indiscriminate liberality, paved the way for 
 general discontent ; and her imperious conduct in 
 her family, and court, and amorous propensities^ 
 rendered her both odious and disgusting in the eyes 
 of good and reflecting men. 
 
 [1651.] These unpleasant circumstances seemed to 
 have hastened her design of resigning the sceptre into 
 the hands of her kinsman, Charles Gustavus, for we 
 find that in this year, she made a public communi- 
 cation of this intention to the senate. The united 
 solicitations of her appointed successor and subjects, 
 who still contemplated the daughter of the great 
 Gustavus with sentiments of affection and reve- 
 rence, in spite of all her imprudencies and excesses, 
 obliged her, however, to continue, for some time 
 longer, the exercise of the royal authority. 
 
 Some writers pretend, that in the following year, 
 1652, Christina began to give the most unequivocal 
 proofs of her intention to abandon the faith of her 
 ancestors. But the moment of grace was certainly 
 not yet arrived. For, in an highly complimentary 
 letter, which M. Godeau, Bishop of Venice, ad-
 
 272 
 
 dressed to her that year, she, in answer to it, aftei 
 saying to him, that the good folks of France were 
 so accustomed to flatter, that she dares not com- 
 plain of so general a custom, and therefore she was 
 not surprized at receiving his praises, although she 
 is thankful for them, proceeds to express a wish, 
 that his mind possessed the same light as her's did 
 upon matters of religion.* Now this is surely a very 
 unsuitable declaration to fall from one upon the eve 
 of becoming a Catholic. And in a letter, which she 
 wrote in the same year to Prince Frederic of Hesse, 
 to dissuade him from embracing the Roman religion, 
 we may discern the same decided inclination to the 
 Protestant communion. 
 
 The strong attachment which Christina really felt 
 to the cause of letters, and the undistinguishing 
 patronage which she gave to its professors, very 
 naturally excited the highest applauses from the 
 
 * II y a long terns que jc suis persuadee que les choses que je 
 crois sont celles que 1'on doit croire. Ce seroit plutot a moi a 
 souhaiter que parmi tant de belles lumieres dont votre ami est 
 eclaire, vous eussiez encore celles que j'ai sur cette matiere. 
 See Memoires sur Christine, torn. I. p. 215.
 
 273 
 
 literati of Sweden, and of other countries. But in 
 the two hundred panegyrics which M. Arckenholtz 
 reckons to have been bestowed upon Christina, we 
 may in vain look for her real character. In her 
 intercourse with men of learning, she departed so 
 widely from the dignity of the Queen, and became 
 so much of the pedant in petticoats, that her in- 
 tellectual attainments, so far from producing her 
 any real glory, may be said, in a great measure, to 
 have diminished the lustre of her character, as a 
 sovereign. The levity, too, or rather licentiousness 
 of behaviour, in which she so often indulged before 
 them, must have even secretly inspired the disgust 
 of those men, who were led equally by inclination 
 and interest, to dissemble her vices, and proclaim 
 her real or pretended virtues. Of this disposition 
 to speak, and to act, in the company of men of 
 learning, in a manner inconsistent with the modesty 
 of a female, innumerable instances remain. But 
 the following one, will be quite sufficient to con- 
 firm this assertion. Salmasius, so renowned for his 
 critical skill, and extensive and profound knowledge 
 of languages, whom Milton pleased himself with 
 the malignant idea of having killed in their last 
 
 T
 
 dispute, was one of the first scholars who had Vi- 
 sited the court of. Christina, and possessed, in a 
 remarkable degree, the esteem and confidence of 
 his royal pupil. It happened once, that she paid 
 him a visit during a fit of illness, and found him ill 
 bed, reading a book, which, upon her entrance, he 
 immediately closed. " Ha, ha," said the Queen, " let 
 us see what engages your attention. Come, shew 
 us some good passages." Salmasius having pointed 
 out one of the best, she cast her eye over it, and 
 afterwards said to her favourite Sparre, better known 
 by the name of La belle Comtesse, who accompa- 
 nied her on this occasion, " Come hither, Sparre, 
 and look at this fine book of devotion* entitled, Lc 
 Moyendeparvehir. Come, nOw, read us this page;" 
 But Sparre had not proceeded three lines, before the 
 indecency of the language obliged her to stop. 
 Her blushes, however, and confusion > only served 
 to heighten the Queen's pleasure, and, almost con* 
 vulsed with laughter, she insisted upon her finish*, 
 ing the page, in spite of every remonstrance she 
 made against the uncommonly offensive expressions 
 in it.* 
 
 * See this anecdote in Menagiana, Tom. IV. p. 3$8.
 
 27.5 
 
 The moment was at length arrived, when the 
 fatigues and cares of sovereignty became so insup- 
 portable to Christina, that no persuasions could 
 induce her to bear them any longer. The many 
 hours she was obliged to allot to the discharge of the 
 various duties of her high station, had so completely 
 oppressed her spirits, and preyed upon her health, that 
 when the secretaries brought her dispatches to sign, 
 she fancied, to borrow one of her curious expressions, 
 she saw the devil. In the following letter, which 
 she addressed to M. Chanut, upon her resolution 
 of abdicating the crown, there is an affectation 
 of superior sagacity, and an ostentatious approba- 
 tion of her conduct, by no means compatible 
 with the modesty of conscious merit. " In re- 
 tiring from the stage," said she, " I give myself 
 no uneasiness about the plaudits. 1 know that the 
 scene which I have represented, is not according 
 to the common laws of the theatre. But a mascu- 
 line and vigorous design rarely pleases all descrip- 
 tions of persons. I permit, however^ every one to 
 judge according to his genius. I cannot, indeed, 
 take away this liberty, and would not> if it were in 
 my power." In another part of the letter^ she 
 
 T2
 
 276 
 
 seems inclined to treat with a supercilious con tempt, 
 all those, who should presume to shew their dis- 
 pleasure at the step she was about to take. While 
 the truth of this remark has certainly been much 
 and justly disputed by an unbiassed posterity. " I 
 have preferred the conservation of the state before 
 all other considerations, and have sacrificed every 
 thing with joy to its interests, and have nothing to 
 reproach myself in that administration, which I 
 possessed without pride, and abandon with fa- 
 cility. 
 
 Before, however, Christina had resigned the sceptre 
 into the hands of Charles Gustavus, an act which 
 has been so variously accounted for by the ingeni- 
 ous conjectures of contemporary historians, but 
 which, after all, may be most safely and reasonably 
 ascribed to the desire of freedom, and to an aversion 
 from the toils of government, we are told, that she 
 made an attempt to place her successor in such a 
 precarious and dependent situation, that, had he 
 not firmly resisted it, he could only have been con- 
 sidered as her representative. She wished to be 
 fixed in a state of absolute independence; to have
 
 277 
 
 the liberty of remaining in any part of Sweden she 
 pleased ; to see no change in the appointments which 
 she had made ; and to reserve for herself the greater 
 part of the kingdom. This last condition seems to 
 have originated from the advice which Whitelocke, 
 the ambassador of Cromwell, gave, when she in- 
 timated to him her design of abdicating the crown. 
 " To be warned by the conduct of Philip to his 
 father Charles V. after his abdication ; and, there- 
 fore, to reserve that country in her possession, out 
 of which her reserved revenue should be issued ; 
 for when money is to be paid out of a prince's trea- 
 sury," adds the ambassador, " it is not always 
 ready and certain/'* When Christina found that 
 Charles would not condescend to become a mere 
 titular king, she had the art of turning her propo- 
 sitions into a compliment to him, by saying, that 
 she made them with no other view, but to discover 
 
 * If Whitelocke does not deliver his sentiments with the dig- 
 nity of an ambassador, it must be at least acknowledged that he 
 speaks with the freedom of a man. Espe Jally in that part of 
 the conversation, where he tells her, " that the same persons who 
 now fawn upon her, she must expect to find, when she is no 
 longer queen, disposed to put affronts and scorn upon her." See 
 kis Journal on the Swedish Embassy, vol. I. p. 366.
 
 278 
 
 his real character, and that she was now perfectly 
 satisfied, that Charles Gustavus was worthy to 
 reign, since he so well understood the rights of a 
 monarch. 
 
 A few days before her departure from Sweden, 
 Christina caused a medal to be struck, the legend 
 of which, must have excited a smile of contempt 
 from her ambitious successor?" That Parnassus was 
 better than a throne/' When she had reached a 
 small stream on the frontiers of Sweden, which se- 
 parated Denmark from that kingdom, she waved her 
 hand, and exclaimed, " At last I behold myself at 
 liberty, and out of Sweden, whither I hope never 
 to return again." 
 
 As the constitution of Christina was inured to, 
 
 
 
 fatigue, by hunting and other strong exercises, she 
 performed the greater part of her journey, through 
 Denmark and Germany, on horseback, clad in a 
 male attire, To whatever town she came, the peo- 
 ple flocked in multitudes to see the woman who 
 passed, in the judgment of many, for the most 
 shining constellation of hei age. The singularity
 
 279 
 
 of her dress attracted as much notice, as the freedom 
 of her manners. She usually appeared in the waist- 
 coat, hat, and collar of a man, with a black ribbon 
 carelessly tied around her neck, and with a short pet- 
 ticoat, which descended no lower than the middle 
 part of her leg. We are likewise informed, for these 
 trifles have been detailed with a minute importance 
 by many writers, that she bowed upon introduc- 
 tions, and paid her compliments after the style of 
 a man. The enemies of Christina have not con- 
 fined their misrepresentations to the qualities of her 
 mind, but have extended them to her person. If 
 we listen to them, we must believe, that her figure 
 was deformed, her complexion sallow, her eyes 
 dim-sighted/her nose of a most preposterous length,* 
 and the colour of her teeth, the. very opposite of 
 pearly whiteness. But in the fair and impartial nar- 
 rative of Whitelocke, we learn, that if she did not 
 possess all the beauty of her sex, her countenance 
 was animated, and interesting ; " and though her 
 
 * Son nez est plus loqg que son pied See this hyperbolical 
 expression in La Vie de Christine, Reyne de Suede, a Stockholm, 
 1667, p. 39.
 
 280 
 
 person was of the smaller size, yet her mien and 
 carriage were very noble."* 
 
 [16.55.] Already had Christina prepared for the 
 change of her religion, by visiting all the monaste- 
 ries and churches which she found in her route. 
 At length, after having embraced the Roman Catho- 
 lic Faith, at Brussels, she publicly ^abjured Luthe- 
 ranism in the cathedral church of Inspruck,')' and 
 took this device, which left a doubt in the minds of 
 many, if she was not virtually, as much a pagan as 
 a papist -Fata viam invenient. 
 
 
 The proselytisrn of Christina, like her abdication, 
 
 was equally the theme of panegyric and invective. 
 The highest praises were of course bestowed on this 
 act by the Catholics ; while the Protestants pre- 
 tended, that she was indifferent to all religions, and 
 convenience was the only motive which influenced 
 her to embrace Popery ; since, by professing its te- 
 nets, she was more fully enabled to gratify the wish 
 
 * See Journal of the Swedish Embassy, vol. I. p. 255. 
 
 'f For a detailed account of the ceremonies attending her con* 
 version, see History of the Queen of Swedland, p. 150166.
 
 281 
 
 she had, to spend the remainder of her life in Italy, 
 the favoured abode of the arts and sciences. In 
 proof of this indifference, they relate, that in Sweden, 
 it was her usual custom during the performance of 
 divine service, if the discourse of the minister did 
 not please her, to play with two favourite spaniels, 
 which generally attended upon such occasions, or 
 to chat with some of her attendants, or else to ex- 
 press her impatience by making such a noise with 
 her fan, as could not have been otherwise interpreted 
 by the priest, than into a mandate for his immediate 
 silence.-f They likewise affirm, that whenever any 
 allusion was made to the stupendous miracles 
 wrought by Moses, it was her constant saying, 
 that she would undertake to demonstrate the false- 
 hood of the pretended miraculous passage of the 
 Israelites through the Red Sea, by the victory which 
 Numenius, one of the generals of Antiochus, had 
 obtained over the Persians, at the same season, 
 place, and manner, as Moses did over Pharoah, 
 by observing the flux and reflux of that sea.f 
 
 * See La Vie de Christine, Reyne de Suede, p. 75 
 t Page 1620.
 
 282 
 
 While, to shew also that she was no more a Catho- 
 lic than Lutheran, they instanced the reply which 
 she made to the Jesuits of Louvain, when they 
 promised her a place near St. Bridget of Sweden. 
 " It would afford me more pleasure to obtain a seat 
 among the sages" 
 
 But though we entertain some suspicions that she 
 never broke out into so daring a tone of infidelity, as 
 to dispute the divine authority of the Bible, yet her 
 excessive admiration of the writings of Plato and of 
 other Greek philosophers, may be supposed to have 
 abated much of the religion, zeal, and devotion, which 
 is said to have marked her early years. It is also 
 certain, that during her stay at Rome, she paid 
 more visits to the works of the great masters in that 
 city, than to Alexander VII. who then filled the 
 papal chair, or to any of the sacred orators. But 
 of all the fine arts, she seems to have possessed a 
 more thorough knowledge of sculpture, than any 
 other, and to have been most delighted with it. It 
 happened one day, while she was admiring a marble 
 statue of the celebrated Chevalier Bernini, which 
 represented Truth, that a cardinal who stood near
 
 283 
 
 / 
 
 to her, took occasion to observe, that she loved 
 Truth more than other princes. " But all Truths," 
 answered she, " are not of marble*' 
 
 [1656.] An epidemical disorder, which appeared 
 at this time in Rome, gave Christina a fair pretence 
 of gratifying her love of novelty, by taking a jour- 
 ney to France. Being apprized of her intention, 
 the King of France directed that his illustrious vi- 
 sitor should be received with great splendour, in 
 every city through which she passed. Accordingly, 
 all ranks of people vied with each other in offering 
 her tokens of their respect and homage. Upon her 
 arrival at Fontainbleau, she was treated with every 
 distinction due to her royal birth, character, and ac- 
 complishments, and, being astonished at the cere- 
 monial of the court, she demanded, upon \vhat 
 account the ladies testified such eagerness to kiss 
 her ; " Is it," said she, " because I resemble a 
 manV 
 
 During the abode of Christina in France, the men 
 there found, or affected to find, suck a combination 
 of endowments in her character, as were never be-
 
 fore united in the same person. But we are in- 
 structed to believe, that she was no favourite with 
 her own sex. The ladies of France did not at all 
 relish her keen and pointed remarks, in answer to 
 their obsequious flatteries ; or her blunt interroga- 
 tories respecting their criminal amours. Her swear- 
 ing, a vice to which she was much addicted, gave, 
 it must be confessed, just cause of offence to many, 
 while her superior understanding excited the envy 
 of all. Those who pretended best to appreciate 
 her merits, compared her to the castle of Fontain- 
 bleau, grand but irregular. Madame de Motteville, 
 who seems, from what reason we are ignorant, to 
 to have been animated with a particular ill-will to- 
 wards her, relates, as a proof, we may suppose, of 
 her depraved taste and passions, that Ninon, the cele- 
 brated courtezan, was the only female in France, 
 for whom she shewed any marks of esteem, or visited 
 with any real pleasure. 
 
 From Fontainbleau, Christina proceeded to Paris. 
 Having surveyed the city, and received a ceremo- 
 nial visit from the magistrates, she was presented, 
 by the famous Menage, to the French Academy*
 
 285 
 
 And, as it was esteemed by the literati, a sort of 
 title to celebrity, to be introduced to a Queen, who 
 had descended from her throne in the prime of life for 
 the sake of philosophizing, and who sought the ac- 
 quaintance of every man of literary reputation with the 
 utmost avidity, Menage, who served as a master of ce- 
 remonies to her during the time she remained in Paris, 
 received so many applications to have that honour 
 conferred upon them, that, for fear of offending 
 some, he withheld it from none. This gave 
 Christina to say, that Mr. Menage was acquainted 
 with a great many persons of merit. 
 
 [1657.] Fond of balls, ballets, and all the amuse- 
 ments of youth, and likewise delighted with the 
 company and conversation of the learned, Christina, 
 as she could enjoy all those different pleasures in 
 perfection at Paris, felt such regret on quitting it, 
 that she had scarce revisited Italy, before she again 
 returned to France. This second journey to that 
 kingdom was undertaken, as was alledged, for poli- 
 tical purposes. But it was only remarkable for the 
 commission of a deed, which has deservedly handed 
 down the memory of Christina to the execration of
 
 286 
 
 posterity ; the murder of Monaldeschi, her chief 
 equerry. Every circumstance attending the death 
 of this unfortunate nobleman, so strongly marks- 
 the savage vindictive spirit of the Queen, as can- 
 not but excite the utmost horror and disgust in the 
 mind of the humane reader. 
 
 On the tenth of November this bloody scene was 
 performed, in the gallery of Les Cerfs, in the pa- 
 lace of Fontainebleau.* Father Le Bel, an eye 
 witness, and relater of it, informs us, that, upon 
 that day, he was conducted by a domestic of the 
 Queen's into the 'above-mentioned gallery, where 
 he found her, the Marquis, and three other per- 
 sons, two of whom observed a respectful distance. 
 When the Queen had finished her reproaches against 
 the Marquis, for having betrayed her confidence, 
 which, she made him confess he had done, by shew- 
 ing him his own signature to certain papers; an 
 awful pause ensued, and the assassins drew their 
 swords ; at the sight of which, their unhappy vie* 
 tim, in the agony of his despair, pursued the Queen 
 
 * The reader will find Father Le Bel's circumstantial account 
 of this affair, in La Vie de Reyne de Suede, p t 134154* .
 
 287 
 
 to the different parts of the gallery, supplicating 
 for pardon. She listened to him all the time with 
 the utmost coolness, and at last quitted the apart- 
 ment, having addressed these emphatic words to 
 the priests : " Father, I leave you this man, pre- 
 pare him for his death, and take care of his soul." 
 Before, however, this atrocious crime was perpe- 
 trated, the Chief of the assassins was so deeply 
 moved by the urgent intreaties of the Marquis, as 
 to go in person to the Queen, to try if he could ob- 
 tain his pardon. Father Le Bel also made the same 
 request, and ventured to hint to her, that she would 
 more consult her reputation by either forgiving the 
 Marquis, or else delivering him into the hands of 
 public justice. But she was too much bent upon 
 the wreaking of her vengeance, to turn a willing 
 ear to any petition or remonstrance which they could 
 offer. When the last moments of the Marquis 
 were over, for the inhumanity of his executioners 
 suffered him to lay some time in the agonies of 
 death, Father Le Bel waited upon the Queen in an 
 adjoining room, where she had remained during the 
 whole of the transaction. And from him we also 
 learn, that such was the amazing ferocity of her
 
 288 
 
 temper, that she dismissed him without manifesting 
 any one sign of remorse for the detestable act she 
 had caused to be done, unless our readers will con- 
 sider as one, the presenting him with one hundred 
 livres, to say masses for the soul of the Marquis. 
 
 This deed, which renders the name of Christina 
 infamous in the judgment of posterity, was then, 
 incredible to relate, viewed with such indulgence, 
 that sage lawyers and grave historians have even 
 proposed it as a serious question, whether or no a 
 queen, who has quitted the throne, has not a right 
 to take away the life of her domestics without any 
 legal trial. Among the supporters of this question, 
 which could only have originated from the basest 
 flattery to Christina, we are both astonished and 
 concerned to find the illustrious name of Leibnitz, 
 the man who, in the character of a teacher of juris- 
 prudence, aspired to reform the laws of nature, and 
 of nations. For if we examine into the offence of 
 Monaldeschi, it will surely not be maintained by 
 any. writer, in whose breast exist those feelings of 
 compassion, which are natural to all men, that it 
 was of a nature so heinous, as could have been
 
 289 
 
 only expiated by assassination. Some writers, we 
 know, have asserted, that the untimely end of Mo* 
 naldeschi was occasioned from having boasted pub- 
 licly of Christina's passion for him ; but others, with 
 more truth and reason, have attributed it to the 
 following circumstance: That the Marquis, anx- 
 ious to supplant Sentelli, the chief favourite of 
 Christina, had collected all the various scandalous 
 tales which were spread abroad respecting them 
 both ; and having committed them to paper, in a 
 feigned hand, procured a servant to deliver this 
 string of calumnies into the hands of the Queen* 
 An insult, which could only be atoned, in her mind 
 by his blood. Well, then, may the remembrance 
 of such barbarity extort from her, in the hour of 
 solitude and reflexion, this just but dreadful confes- 
 sion, " that we must forget the past, to endure or 
 enjoy the present, and to resign oneself to that which 
 is to come/'* 
 
 * II faut oublier le passe, souffrir ou jouir du present, et se 
 resigner pour 1'avenir. This maxim stands the first in a work 
 of 52 quarto pages, which Christina composed at Rome, during 
 the last period of her life.
 
 290 
 
 But as cruelty, to employ another of her senti- 
 ments, inspires hatred and contempt, Christina 
 thought proper to shorten her visit to France, in 
 consequence of this affair, although the court might 
 be said to manifest a seeming approbation of it, by 
 its silence. In the looks, however, of many, she 
 read an undisguised abhorrence of her conduct, 
 
 o 
 
 She, therefore, determined to pay a visit to England. 
 But Cromwell, we are assured, had no sort of in- 
 clination to spend the money of his country in 
 giving a splendid reception to a queen, who had 
 resigned three crowns to embrace a religion which 
 he hated, and who, practised in the arts of dissimu- 
 lation, might succeed in discovering those secrets 
 which it was his interest, as well as duty, to con- 
 ceal from her knowledge. 
 
 After making, then, some further stay in France, 
 Christina at last returned to Rome, where she had 
 full leisure to resign herself to her propensity, or 
 rather passion, for the arts and sciences, particularly 
 chemistry, medals, and statues. While the Cardinal 
 Azzoni, her confidential friend, undertook the ma- 
 nagement of her finances, which were much de-
 
 291 
 
 ranged, from her excessive profuseness, and the 
 want of regularity in the payment of the pension, 
 which Sweden had settled upon her. Of a temper, 
 however, too restless and intriguing to remain in a 
 state of profound tranquillity, for any length of 
 time, Christina soon embroiled herself in a dispute 
 with the Pope, Alexander VII. respecting the mar- 
 riage of her favourite Sentinelli arid the Dutchess de 
 Ceri. To pacify that vain, frivolous old man, for 
 the active part she had taken in forwarding this 
 match, in direct opposition to his wishes, she occa- 
 sionally appeared in the public processions, to re- 
 ceive his benediction ; and still further to gratify his 
 pride of being thought the author of her conversion, 
 she retired to a convent, that the world might think 
 the love of religion would lead her, in time, to be- 
 come a nun. While the real motive of this tempo- 
 rary seclusion, was the opportunity it afforded her 
 of escaping, in a great degree, from the troublesome 
 visits of the Pontiff. 
 
 The sudden death of King Charles Gustavus, 
 which happened in the commencement of the year 
 1660, determined Christina once more to revisit
 
 292 
 
 Sweden. Historians ascribe this resolution to a 
 strong desire she felt, at that time of remounting 
 the throne. But her visit, whatever were the views"- 
 and intentions she had of making it, was attended 
 with the most mortifying and unhappy consequences, 
 both to her as a queen, and a woman. The ancient 
 subjects of Christina had ceased to remember their 
 former love and respect for her, and now only con- 
 templated her as a rash and inconsiderate woman, 
 who had forsaken them, to embrace a religion which 
 they abhorred. The estates of the kingdom, there- 
 fore, were not long before they issued orders for the 
 pulling down of her chapel, and the dismissal of 
 the Italian chaplains, who had followed her. Nor 
 would they permit her to quit Sweden, before she 
 had made a second renunciation of her rights to the 
 
 crown. All these circumstances obliged Christina 
 
 t 
 to return again to Rome ; and as, after this violent 
 
 breach, every hope of retaining something more in 
 Sweden than the appearance of majesty, seemed 
 now at an end, she was rash and indiscreet enough 
 to say, she quitted with pleasure a country, filled 
 with so many knaves, tyrants, and heretics.* 
 
 * It is worthy of remark, that there are no words in our Ian-
 
 293 
 
 The greater part of Italy was then thrown into 
 the utmost consternation, by the Turks having at- 
 tacked the Island of Candia. And such were the 
 great but ineffectual efforts made by the Queen of 
 Sweden to procure Venice supplies of troops and 
 money from the princes of Europe, that many were 
 uncharitable enough to suspect her laudable exer- 
 tions in behalf of that republic, were to be placed 
 only to the most interested motives. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the famous affair of the Corses 
 happened ; in which the King of France obliged 
 the Pope to disband his guards, for having offered 
 
 guage, which have been so much strained by abuse from their 
 original innocent purport, to their present opprobrious significa- 
 tion, as these three words knaves, tyrants, and heretics. The 
 word knave is of Saxon derivation, and, in its original sense, 
 meant any kind of serving man. In an old English translation 
 of the Bible, called sometimes, Archbishop Cranmer's edition of 
 it, St. Paul is denominated the knave of Christ. Every Latin 
 scholar knows that the word tyrant, in its original signification, 
 meant no more than a king, though it is now invariably used to 
 denote an usurper or oppressor. The word heretic, or heresy, is 
 derived from the Greek verb aupstv, which signifies to chuse. In 
 the original sense of this term, no odious idea was affixed to it, 
 as we find that Josephus calls the sect of the Pharisees, a heresy, 
 though he himself was a Pharisee.
 
 294 
 
 an insult to his ambassador at Rome ; and not con- 
 tent with this humiliating atonement, compelled 
 him to send his nephew to ask pardon, and also to 
 erect a monument in his own capital, of the expul- 
 sion of the Corses, his guards. Christina was em- 
 ployed by Alexander as his intercessor in this serious 
 affair; and he had soon reason to believe, that her 
 regret was not very sincere, at the ill-success of her 
 applications. His dislike, therefore, to her, mani- 
 fested itself upon so many occasions, that she took 
 the resolution of once more returning to Sweden. 
 Whilst she was sounding the estates of the kingdom 
 upon that measure, she passed her hours at Rome, 
 in the conversation and society of men of letters; 
 and sometimes amused herself at their expence, by 
 causing the most curious inscriptions to be put upon 
 the legend of medals, which she had struck for this 
 purpose,* 
 
 * She had the word M AKELOS put upon one legend. This 
 enigma gave rise to many disputes among the learned men, and 
 consequently afforded much entertainment to Christina. MAKE- 
 LOS, in case our readers have any curiosity to know the meaning 
 of it, is a pure Swedish word, which admits a double sense, ancj 
 signifies incomparable, and likewise an unmarried person.
 
 295 
 
 The conditions which the senate placed upon the 
 Queen's return to Sweden, appeared so very hard, 
 that she judged it proper to repair to Hamburgh, and 
 to wait there the opening of the approaching Diet, 
 in order to he ready to avail herself of any circum- 
 stance that might contribute to render her nego- 
 ciations with it successful. But of all the orders of 
 the state, the clergy, strange to relate, seemed more 
 disposed than any other to advance her interests. 
 The rest of the nation, disgusted with her dissimu- 
 lation and intrigues, used the right which she had 
 given to them, and refused almost all her demands. 
 She then renounced Sweden for ever, and returned 
 to Rome, where she passed the remainder of her 
 days, despising and perpetually at variance with the 
 Pope,* ill-paid by her ancient subjects, forgotten 
 by France, and but little esteemed by that nation 
 which she had preferred to every other- Christina 
 soon perceived, after her abdication, to quote the 
 
 * Bishop Burnet relates, in the History of his own Times 
 vol. II. p. 415, that Christina one day said to him, " that it was 
 certain, the church was governed by the immediate care and provi- 
 dence of God, for none of the four popes she had known, since 
 she came to Rome, had common sense."
 
 296 
 
 words of Nani, the Historian of Venice, " that a 
 queen without a kingdom, was a divinity without a 
 temple, of which the worship is quickly abandoned." 
 
 ' 
 [A.D. 1686.] In study* and devotion,f in acting 
 
 by turns the character of a queen, converter 4; astro- 
 loger^ ancl in a correspondence with the learned 
 
 
 
 * It is conjectured by some, that at this time she begun, and 
 by others, finished, her Reflexions sur la Vie et les Actions de 
 grand Alexander. It would have been better, perhaps, for her 
 literary reputation, had this work never seen the light. 
 
 j" She is said to have been much taken with the opinions 
 of the Molinists. The spiritual repose which the author of 
 that religious sect preached, and which then engaged the whole 
 attention of the Inquisition, reminds us of the pleasant say- 
 ing of the famous Pasquin tipon this occasion. ** If we speak, 
 the galley is the consequence ; if we write, the gibbet ; if -use keep 
 ourselves in quietness of mindy the Inquisition. What is to be 
 done, then ? 
 
 % She wrote a letter to the celebrated Madame Dacier, for the 
 purpose of exhorting her to turn Catholic, and another to a cer- 
 tain Count Veranau, in which she pursuaded him to become a 
 monk. 
 
 She is said to have been extremely fond of that vain science, 
 notwithstanding it was one of her observations, that for judging 
 of events, terrestial appeared to her more sure than celestial as-? 
 trology. And that we must study astrology, as we do medicine, 
 in order to avoid becoming the dupes of either of them.
 
 297 
 
 and great of Europe, were the last years of Chris- 
 tina's life consumed. But, of all her numerous 
 epistolary productions, there is no letter which re- 
 flects more honour upon her memory, than the one 
 she addressed to the Chevalier Terlon, the ambassa- 
 dor of France, in Sweden, in consequence of Louis 
 the Fourteenth having revoked the famous edict of 
 Nantz. In the following passages of this letter, so 
 much sound sense, and real humanity, are discover- 
 able, as cannot but excite a sentiment of regret, 
 in every reflecting mind, that a queen who could 
 think so nobly, should have not testified in her ac- 
 tions and conduct, more regard to promote the ge- 
 neral welfare of society. 
 
 After stating, that she fears and flatters no one, 
 she thus proceeds : " Are you fully persuaded of 
 the sincerity of these new converts, the Calvinists ? 
 Men of war are strange apostles, and, I think, more 
 proper to kill, to rob, and to violate, than to per- 
 suade. I compassionate the people who are com- 
 mitted to their mercy, and I lament the ruin of so 
 many families, and so many honest persons, who 
 $re reduced to beggary. Although in error, it seems
 
 29S 
 
 to me, that they are more worthy of pity than of 
 hatred. I compare France to a sick person, whose 
 legs and arms are cut off to cure a disease, which 
 a little patience and indulgence would have entirely 
 healed. Nothing is more praiseworthy than the 
 design of converting infidels and heretics ; but the 
 mode here adopted to effectuate that purpose, is ex- 
 ceedingly strange ; and as our blessed Lord has not 
 availed himself of it to convert the world, it cer- 
 tainly cannot be esteemed the best." The letter is 
 concluded by her opposing the conduct of Louis'XI V. 
 to his Protestant subjects, to that which he then 
 held towards the Pope. 
 
 Some writers have professed to see her attachment 
 to Protestantism in this celebrated letter. And, 
 agreeably to this discovery, they pretend, that Chris- 
 tina, three years afterwards, negociated with the 
 Elector of Brandenburg for an asylum in his do- 
 minions, in order that she might more easily carry 
 into execution, her design of returning to the Lu- 
 theran religion. But if she really meditated this 
 design, it was stopped short by the hand of nature^ 
 since she soon after that time expired. [1689-]
 
 299 
 
 It is pretended, that Christina died with more for- 
 titude and resignation than Queen Elizabeth. But the 
 contrariety* of relations respecting that event, leave 
 it very doubtful in what manner she met her doom. 
 Of this, however, there can be no dispute, that she 
 would have obtained an higher summit of glory in 
 the estimation of prosperity, had she more imitated 
 that illustrious personage in her steady support of 
 Protestantism ; in her zeal, patriotism, and skill in 
 government ; in her wise frugality ; impartial friend- 
 ship ; heroic firmness ; and enlightened taste for the 
 arts and sciences. 
 
 * It is asserted by several writers, and with much appearance 
 of truth, that her last moments were greatly disturbed by the re- 
 collection of her barbarity to Monaldeschi. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed lyW. WlLon, 
 St, Peter's ffiO f Doctors' Comment, London,
 
 
 v 
 
 . 
 
 
 I 
 
 ; 
 

 
 THE 
 
 FOLLOWING WORKS OF 
 
 Mr. CARD, 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 HISTORY of the REVOLUTIONS of RUSSIA, in one 
 Octavo Volume, Price 12s. in Boards. Second Edition, dedi- 
 cated by Permission to Lord Henry Petty, M.P. &c. &c. 
 
 *' From this copious detail, and the extracts with which it is accom- 
 panied, our readers will be enabled to discern the scope, and to ap- 
 preciate, in a general view, the execution of the work. It may, per- 
 haps, be doubted, whether the term Revolutions is happily chosen as a 
 denomination for some of those gradations in religion and politics, 
 which the author has described j but whatever dispute may be maintained 
 on this point, we readily admit the apology made in the preface, that 
 it is a name well calculated to arrest attention, and excite curiosity : 
 and when attention and curiosity are so well gratified, complaint on so 
 slight a subject would be frivolous, if not unjust.** 
 
 British Critic, October, 1803. 
 
 " Mr. Card has certainly furnished to the public a convenient and 
 florid epitome of Russian history, which displays, perhaps, more talent 
 than research, more brilliancy than judgment, [more eloquence than 
 industry, but which still merits praise for extensive information, for 
 instructive remark, and for splendid composition." 
 
 Annual Review, Vol. IL 
 
 " In diction rivalling that of Mr. Gibbon, but with less attention 
 to original documents, Mr. Card has given us a History of the Revo- 
 lutions of Russia to the Accession of Catherine I. The work is ac- 
 companied with a concise review of the manners and customs of the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and is the most interesting, and
 
 bids fair to become the most popular account we possess in our Ian*. 
 guage of the barbarous ages of a people, who are now progressively 
 assuming importance in the general politics of Europe." 
 
 New Annual Register^ Vol. 24, 1803. 
 
 " The present work is happily calculated to dispel the darkness in 
 which the infancy of Russian greatness has been wrapt, while the au- 
 thor very judiciously avoids all details, either too minute for the pro- 
 vince of history, or too fabulous and vague to be accredited. All the 
 memorable transactions which have led to seven revolutions, from the 
 latter end of the ninth century to the accession of Peter the Great, he 
 recapitulates with a clearness and precision, both as to their causes and 
 effects, which evince a rare depth of research, regulated by a sound 
 judgment. But it is not to the bare narrative of facts, and their im- 
 mediate consequences, that his labours have been confined : he deline- 
 ates in strong colours the characters of the principal actors in these rude 
 scenes of turbulence and anarchy, and in a political as well as in a 
 philosophical point of view, his reflections display a just knowledge 
 of the human heart, and convey many instructive lessons. 
 
 " From an attentive perusal of the volume before us, and a faithful 
 comparison of its most prominent passages with the best sources of 
 authority, we feel ourselves justified in saying, that Mr. Card has 
 spared no pains, neglected no channel of information, which could 
 qualify him for the arduous task he undertook to perform. We have 
 not had, for many years, any history in which more useful erudition is 
 introduced, almost uniformly illustrative of the grand questions under 
 consideration ; while the notes, which are uncommonly numerous, tes- 
 tify the extensive researches of the writer, and abound in matter no less 
 curious than interesting. He has also been enabled, by judicious col- 
 lation, and reference to authorities before little known, to detect the 
 errors of preceding writers, and to expose some remarkable mistakes. 
 But above all, the author is entitled to peculiar praise, for the manner 
 in which he slightly notices, or skilfully compresses, circumstances 
 that might be thought too minute and trivial for the dignity t>f history, 
 and directs the attention to those important events, whether resulting 
 from design, passion, or accident, which decide the fate of nations." 
 
 ^lonthly Mirror, September, 1803. 
 
 See likewise the Critical Review, April, 1804; the Literary Journal, 
 No. VII. Vol. II. and other periodical publications.
 
 HISTORICAL OUTLINES of the RISE and ESTAB- 
 LISHMENT of the PAPAL POWER; addressed to the 
 Roman Catholic Priests of Ireland. Octavo, 3s. 
 
 " This production, in which the rise and establishment of the papal 
 power are traced with great ability and discrimination to the earliest 
 sources, displays, in a most conspicuous point of view, the talents of 
 Mr. Card, who had already distinguished himself in no common way 
 by his history of the Revolutions of Russia. It appears to have been 
 caused by the publication of the correspondence which passed in the 
 beginning of the present year between the Lord Chancellor of Ireland 
 and the Earl of Fingall, and it may justly be considered as a masterly 
 vindication of the position laid down by the former, who, speaking of 
 addresses of a loyal tendency presented by the Roman Catholics of Ire- 
 land, says, " They are given to the winds as long as the priests of the 
 See of Rome shall think fit to hold up to their flocks, that all who do 
 ho( yield obedience to that See are guilty of rebellion against it, are not 
 to be considered as members of the church of Christ, and, therefore, are 
 not (in the eyes of the vulgar at least) to be considered as Christians." 
 
 Monthly Mirror. 
 
 ** We are happy in pointing out this spirited pamphlet to the atten- 
 tion of our readers, who will find an important subject ably and tem- 
 perately discussed, as well as much historical information communi- 
 cated, with considerable vigour of style and argument." 
 
 British Critic^ July, 1805. 
 See likewise the other periodical publications. 
 
 THOUGHTS upon DOMESTIC or PRIVATE EDUCA- 
 TION. Second Edition, Price SB. 6d. 
 
 " The point of controversy, whether a public or private education 
 be preferable, which in former times was so much agitated, and has, of 
 late years, been revived with considerable ability, is taken up by the 
 author of the present publication with great powers of reasoning, with 
 genuine liberality of sentiment, and in a tone of clear and impassioned 
 eloquence, that is rarely to be found in discussions of this nature." 
 
 Monthly Mirror, May, 1807.
 
 The REIGN of CHARLEMAGNE, considered chiefly with 
 Reference to Religion, Laws, Literature, and Manners. In One 
 Octavo Volume, Price 7s. 1807: 
 
 " Mr. Card has succeeded iii executing a work, the want of which 
 must have been long deplored by all, who attentively examine the ori- 
 gin and progress of civilization. His diction is at once lively, perspi* 
 cuous, and energetic; and he frequently embellishes his subject by re- 
 marks, which evince profound judgment and a refined taste. He has 
 contrived to recapitulate, in a brief but clear and satisfactory summary 
 of 76 pages, the chief military operations, and political events." 
 
 See Monthly Mirror. 
 
 " The History of the Reign of this great Prince, of whom it has 
 been truly said, he was distinguished from the royal crowd by the pros- 
 perity of his arms, the vigour of his government, and the reverence of 
 distant nations, has long been a desideratum to English readers, which 
 Mr. Card's industry and talents have at length, in great measure, sup- 
 plied." 
 
 See Oxford Review. 
 
 " This is a work which has long been a desideratum among the 
 readers of history. " The name of Charlemagne," observes the author, 
 who is already known to the public by his history of the Revolutions 
 of Russia, and other valuable performances, " is not less familiar to 
 the learned, than to the unlearned reader : yet his reign has been ex- 
 posed to great, and I will venture to add, undeserved neglect." Which 
 defect of curiosity respecting the life and character of a man, of whose 
 fame the annals of Europe are full, is rightly attributed by Mr. Card 
 to the remoteness of the period in which Charlemagne flourished. In- 
 deed, with the sole exception of Gibbon (and he has only viewed the 
 reign of Charlemagne in such a manner as to provoke, rather than sa- 
 tisfy our curiosity), no other writer has manifested any desire to render 
 the English reader familiar with the military and political operations of 
 that renowned hero. To produce then a work, which, in a popular 
 and elegant style, should delineate Charlemagne in his public and pri- 
 vate character, and trace the line of policy pursued by him to impart 
 knowledge, and to create a spirit of improvement among his people, 
 has been attempted, and we may safely add, in most respects performed 
 
 by Mr. Card." 
 
 See Cabinet. 
 
 Prleifaby W. Wilson, 
 f. Peter's Hit? .2fcc/r/' Cmmsn: t
 
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