"All the years I remained about Edinburgh I used as often as I could to steal into Mr. Stewart's class to hear a lecture, which was always a high treat. I have heard Pitt and Fox deliver some of their most admired speeches, but I never heard anything nearly so eloquent as some of the lec tures of Professor Stewart. The taste for the stu dies which have formed my favourite pursuits, and which will be so to the end of my life, I owe to him."-JOHN MILL. "Dugald Stewart has carried embellishment farther into the region of metaphysics than any other that has preceded him; and his embellishment is invariably consistent with perfect sobriety of taste."-ROBERT HALL. ON MEMORY. It is generally supposed that of all our faculties Memory is that which nature has bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different individuals; and it is far from being impossible that this opinion may be well founded. If, however, we consider that there is scarcely any man who has not memory sufficient to learn the use of language, and to learn to recognize, at the first glance, the appearance of an infinite number of familiar objects; besides acquiring such an acquaintance with the laws of nature, and the ordinary course of human affairs, as is necessary for directing his conduct in life, we shall be satisfied that the original disparities among men, in this respect, are by no means so immense as they seem to be at first view; and that much is to be ascribed to different habits of attention, and to a difference of selection among the various events presented to their curiosity. It is worthy of remark, also, that those individuals who possess unusual powers of memory with respect to any one class of objects, are commonly as remarkably deficient in some of the other applications of that faculty. I knew a person who, though completely ignorant of Latin, was able to repeat over thirty or forty lines of Virgil, after having heard them once read to him,-not indeed with perfect exactness, but with such a degree of resemblance as (all circumstances considered) was truly astonishing: yet this person (who was in the condition of a servant) was singularly deficient in memory in all cases in which that faculty is of real practical utility. He was noted in every family in which he had been employed for habits of forgetfulness, and could scarcely deliver an ordinary message without committing some blunder. A similar observation, I can almost venture to say, will be found to apply to by far the greater number of those in whom this faculty seems to exhibit a preternatural or anomalous degree of force. The varieties of memory are indeed wonderful, but they ought not to be confounded with inequali by a power of recollecting names, and dates, ties of memory. One man is distinguished and genealogies; a second, by the multiplicity of speculations, and of general conclusions treasured up in his intellect; a third, by the facility with which words and combinations of words (the ipissima verba of of his mind; a fourth, by the quickness a speaker or of an author) seem to lay hold with which he seizes and appropriates the sense and meaning of an author, while the phraseology and style seem altogether to escape his notice; a fifth, by his memory for poetry; a sixth, by his memory for music; a seventh, by his memory for architecture, statuary, and painting, and all the other objects of taste which are addressed to the eye. All these different powers seem miraculous to those who do not possess them; and as they are apt to be supposed by superficial observers to be commonly united in the same individuals, they contribute much to encourage those exaggerated estimates con cerning the original inequalities among men in respect to this faculty, which I am now endeavouring to reduce to their first standard. As the great purpose to which this faculty is subservient is to enable us to collect and to retain, for the future regulation of our conduct, the results of our past experience, it is evident that the degree of perfection which it attains in the case of different persons must vary-first, with the facility of making the original acquisition; secondly, with the permanence of the acquisition; and, thirdly, with the quickness or readiness with which the individual is able, on particular occasions, to apply it to use. The qualities, therefore, of a good memory are, in the first place, to be susceptible; secondly, to be retentive: and, thirdly, to be ready. It is but rarely that these three qualities are united in the same person. We often, indeed, meet with a memory which is at once susceptible and ready; but I doubt much if such memories be commonly very retentive: for the same set of habits which are favourable to the two first qualities are adverse to the third. Those individuals, for example, who with a view to conversation, make a constant business of informing themselves with respect to the popular topics, or of turning over the ephemeral publications subservient to the amusement or to the politics fo the times, are naturally led to cultivate a susceptibility and readiness of memory, but have no inducement to aim at that permanent retention of select ideas which enables the scientific student to combine the most remote materials, and to concentrate at will, on a particular object, all the scattered lights of his experience, and of his reflections. Such men (as far as my observation has reached) seldom possess a familiar or correct acquaintance even with those classical remains of our own earlier writers which have ceased to furnish topics of discourse to the circles of fashion. A stream of novelties is perpetually passing through their minds, and the faint impressions which it leaves soon vanish to make way for others, -like the traces which the ebbing tide leaves upon the sand. Nor is this all. In proportion as the associating principles which lay the foundation of susceptibility and readiness predominate in the memory, those which form the basis of our more solid and lasting acquisitions may be expected to be weakened, as a natural consequence of the general laws of our intellectual frame. Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Ch. vi. & 2. WILLIAM GODWIN, born 1756, after officiating as a Dissenting minister 1778 to 1782, devoted himself to literary pursuits until his death, in 1836. Among his publications are the following: An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice, and its Influence on General Virtue and Happiness, Lond., 1793, 2 vols. 4to; Things as they are, or, the Adventures of Caleb Williams, Lond., 1794, 3 vols. 12mo; The Enquirer, Lond., 1797, 8vo; Memoirs of Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, Lond., 1798, 12mo; St. Leon, a Tale of the Sixteenth Century, Lond., 1799, 4 vols. 12mo; Antonio, or The Soldier's Return, a Tragedy, Lond., 1800, 8vo; The Life of Geoffrey Chaucer, Esq., Lond., 1803, 2 vols. 4to; Fleetwood, or, The New Man of Feeling, a Novel, Lond., 1805, 3 vols. 12mo; Faulkner, a Tragedy, Lond., 1808, 8vo: An Essay on Sepulchres, Lond., 1809, cr. 8vo; The Lives of Edward and John Phillips, Nephews and Pupils of John Milton, Lond., 1815, 4to; Mandeville, a Tale of the Seventeenth Century, Edin., 1817, 3 vols. 12mo; Of Population, Lond., 1820, 8vo; History of the Commonwealth of England, Lond., 1824-28, 4 vols. 8vo; Clondesley, a Tale, Lond., 1830, 8vo; Thoughts on Man, his Nature, Productions, and Discoveries, Lond., 1830, 8vo; Lives of the Necromancers, Lond., 1834, 8vo. "As a novelist Mr. Godwin is, to all intents, original; he has taken no model, but has been himself a model to the million. He heads that voluminous class of writers whose chief, nay, whose only, aim is to excite the painful sensibilities by displaying, in a rigid depth of colouring, the darkest and the blackest passions which corrupt mankind."-Lond. Gent. Mag., June, 1836. REMORSE. "Williams," said he, " you have conquered! I see, too late, the greatness and elevation of your mind. I confess that it is to my fault, and not yours, that it is to the excess of jealousy that was ever burning in my bosom, that I owe my ruin. I could have resisted any plan of malicious accusation you might have brought against me. But I see that the artless and manly story you have told has carried conviction to every hearer. All my prospects are concluded. All that I most ardently desire is forever frustrated. I have spent a life of the basest cruelty to cover one act of momentary vice, and to protect myself against the prejudices of my species. I stand now completely detected. My name will be consecrated to infamy, while your heroism, your patience, and your virtue, will be forever admired. You have inflicted on me the most fatal of all mischiefs, but I bless the hand that wounds me. And now"-turning to the magistrate-" and now, do with me as you please. I am prepared to suffer all the vengeance of the law. You cannot inflict on me more than I deserve. You cannot hate me more than I hate myself. I am the most execrable of all villains. I have for many years (I know not how long) dragged on a miserable existence in insupportable pain. I am at last, in recompense of all my labours and my crimes, dismissed from it with the disappointment of my only remaining hope, the destruction of that for the sake of which alone I consented to exist. It was worthy of such a life that it should continue just long enough to witness this final overthrow. If, however, you wish to punish me, you must be speedy in your justice; for as reputation was the blood that warmed my heart, so I feel that death and infamy must seize me together!" Falkland, not because I deserve them, but I record the praises bestowed on me by because they serve to aggravate the baseness of my cruelty. He survived but three days this dreadful scene. I have been his murderer. It was fit that he should praise my patience, who has fallen a victim, life and fame, to my precipitation! It would have been' merciful, in comparison, if I had planted a dagger in his heart. He would have thanked me for my kindness. But, atrocious, execrable wretch that I have been, I wantonly inflicted on him an anguish a thousand times worse than death. Meanwhile I endure the penalty of my crime. His figure is ever in imagination before me. Waking or sleeping, I still behold him. He seems mildly to expostulate with me for my unfeeling behaviour. I live 278 WILLIAM BECKFORD. the devoted victim of conscious reproach. Such has been the result of a project I Why should my reflections perpetually Falkland! thou enteredst upon thy career with the purest and most laudable intentions. But thou imbibedst the poison of chivalry with thy earliest youth; and the base and low-minded envy that met thee on thy return to thy native seats, operated with this poison to hurry thee into madness. Soon, too soon, by this fatal coincidence, were the blooming hopes of thy youth blasted forever! only continuedst to live to the phantom of From that moment thou departed honour. From that moment thy benevolence was, in a great measure, turned into rankling jealousy and inexorable precaution. Year after year didst thou spend in this miserable project of imposture; and only at last continuedst to live long enough to see, by my misjudging and abhorred intervention, thy closing hopes disappointed, and thy death accompanied with the foulest disgrace! Caleb Williams. WILLIAM BECKFORD, styled by Lord Byron, in Childe Harold, "England's wealthiest son," and the builder of a palace at Cintra, Portugal, and of Font hill Abbey, the latter of which cost him £273,000, was born 1760, succeeded at ten years of age to a fortune of £100,000 per annum, and died in 1844. He was the author Painters, Lond., 1780, small 8vo (anonyof Biographical Memoirs of Extraordinary mous); An Arabian Tale [Vathek], from an Explanatory [by Mr. Henley], Lond., 1786, Unpublished MS., with Notes Critical and small 8vo, the original in French, Lausanne, 1787, new edition, 1815, 8vo, some large paper; in English, 1809, also 1815, 8v), and and Portugal, in a Series of Letters written 1832, 8vo; Italy, with Sketches of Spain Lond., 1834, 2 vols. 8vo; Recollections of an during a Residence in those Countries, Excursion to the Monasteries of Alcobaca and Batalha [in June, 1794], Lond., 1835, 8vo. Vathek displays the hand of a master (which is apparent in all his works): tion, and power of imagination, this most Eastern and sublime tale [Vathek] surpasses all European "For correctness of costume, beauty of descripimitations; and bears such marks of originality that those who have visited the East will have must bow before it: his Happy Valley will not some difficulty in believing it to be more than a translation. As an Eastern tale even Rasselas BYRON. bear comparison with the Hall of Eblis."-LORD ... THE CALIPH VATHEK AND HIS PALACES. Vathek, ninth caliph of the race of the Abassides, was the son of Motassem, and the grandson of Haroun al Raschid. From talents he possessed to adorn it, his subjects an early accession to the throne, and the and majestic; but when he was angry one were induced to expect that his reign would of his eyes became so terrible that no person be long and happy. His figure was pleasing could bear to behold it; and the wretch upon whom it was fixed instantly fell backhowever, of depopulating his dominions, ward, and sometimes expired. and making his palace desolate, he rarely gave way to his anger. For fear, pleasures of the table, he sought by his affability to procure agreeable companions; and Being much addicted to women, and the he succeeded the better as his generosity strained: for he did not think, with the was unbounded and his indulgences unrecaliph Omar Ben Abdalaziz, that it was necessary to make a hell of this world to enjoy Paradise in the next. He surpassed in magnificence all his predecessors. The palace of Alkeremi, which his father, Motassem, had erected on the hill whole city of Samarah, was in his idea far of Pied Horses, and which commanded the too scanty: he added, therefore, five wings, or rather other palaces, which he destined for the particular gratification of each of the senses. In the first of these were tables continually covered with the most exquisite dainties, which were supplied both by night and by day, according to their constant consumption; whilst the most delicious wines, and the choicest cordials, flowed forth from a hundred fountains that were never exhausted. This palace was called The Eternal, or Unsatiating Banquet. The second was styled The Temple of Melody, or The Nectar of the Soul. It was inhabited by the most skilful musicians and admired poets of the time, who not only displayed their talents within, but, dispersing in bands without, caused every surrounding scene to reverberate their songs, which were continually varied in the most delightful succession. The palace named The Delight of the Eyes, or The Support of Memory, was one entire enchantment. Rarities, collected from every corner of the earth, were there found in such profusion as to dazzle and confound, but for the order in which they were arranged. One gallery exhibited the pictures of the celebrated Mani, and statues that seemed to be alive. Here a well-managed perspective attracted the sight; there the imagic of optics agreeably deceived it; whilst the naturalist, on his part, exhibited in their several classes the various gifts that Heaven had bestowed on our globe. In a word, Vathek omitted nothing in his palace that might gratify the curiosity of those who resorted to it, although he was not able to satisfy his own, for of all men he was the most curious. would not allow him to rest there. He had studied so much for his amusement in the lifetime of his father as to acquire a great deal of knowledge, though not a sufficiency to satisfy himself; for he wished to know every thing, even sciences that did not exist. He was fond of engaging in disputes with the learned, but did not allow them to push their opposition with warmth. He stopped with presents the mouths of those whose mouths could be stopped; whilst others, whom his liberality was unable to subdue, he sent to prison to cool their blood,-a remedy that often succeeded. Vathek discovered also a predilection for theological controversy; but it was not with the orthodox that he usually held. By this means he induced the zealots to oppose him, and then persecuted them in return; for he resolved, at any rate, to have reason on his side. The great prophet, Mahomet, whose vicars the caliphs are, beheld with indignation from his abode in the seventh heaven the irreligious conduct of such a vicegerent. "Let us leave him to himself," said he to the genii, who are always ready to receive his commands; "let us see to what lengths his folly and impiety will carry him: if he run into excess, we shall know how to chastise him. Assist him, therefore, to complete the tower, which, in imitation of Nimrod, he hath begun; not, like that great warrior, to escape being drowned, but from the insolent curiosity of penetrating the secrets of Heaven: he will not divine the fate that awaits him." The genii obeyed; and when the workmen had raised their structure a cubit in the day time, two cubits more were added in the perpet-night. The expedition with which the fabrio arose was not a little flattering to the vanity of Vathek: he fancied that even insensible matter showed a forwardness to subserve his designs, not considering that the successes of the foolish and wicked form the first rod of their chastisement. The Palace of Perfumes, which was termed likewise The Incentive to Pleasure, consisted of various halls, where the different perfumes which the earth produces were kept ually burning in censers of gold. Flambeaux and aromatic lamps were lighted in open day. But the too powerful effects of this agreeable delirium might be alleviated by descending into an immense garden, where an assemblage of every fragrant flower diffused through the air the purest odours. The fifth palace, denominated The Retreat of Mirth, or The Dangerous, was frequented by troops of young females, beautiful as the Houris, and not less seductive, who never failed to receive with caresses all whom the caliph allowed to approach them, and enjoy a few hours of their company. Notwithstanding the sensuality in which Vathek indulged, he experienced no abatement in the love of his people, who thought that a sovereign giving himself up to pleasure was as able to govern as one who declared himself an enemy to it. But the unquiet and impetuous disposition of the caliph His pride arrived at its height when, having ascended for the first time the fifteen hundred stairs of his tower, he cast his eyes below, and beheld men not larger than pismires, mountains than shells, and cities than bee-hives. The idea which such an elevation inspired of his own grandeur completely bewildered him; he was almost ready to adore himself, till, lifting his eyes upwards, he saw the stars as high above him as they appeared when he stood on the surface of the earth. He consoled himself, however, for this intruding and unwelcome perception of his littleness with the thought of being great in the eyes of others; and flattered himself that the light of his mind would extend be yond the reach of his sight, and extort from remarked by an ancient historian [Herodo the stars the decrees of his destiny. Vathek. ROBERT HALL, the most eminent of Baptist divines, born 1764, commenced preaching 1780, was minister at Broadmead, Cambridge, Leicester, and again, 1825-1831, at Broadmead (Bristol), and died 1831. In November, 1804, and again about a twelvemonth later in consequence of intense mental application, he suffered from mental derangement. His best known publications are Christianity Consistent with a Love of Freedom, Lond., 1791, Apology for the Freedom of the Press, 1793, Modern Infidelity Considered, 1800, Reflections on War, 1802, The Sentiments Proper to the Present Crisis, 1803, The Discourage ments and Supports of the Christian Ministry, On Terms of Communion, 1815 (against Kinghorn, who advocated "close communion"), A Sermon occasioned by the Death of Her late Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte of Wales, 1817, 6th edit., 1818. Works, with Memoir by Dr. O. Gregory and Observations by John Foster, Lond., 183133, 6 vols. 8vo, 11th edit., 1853, 6 vols. 8vo. "In his higher flights, what he said of Burke might, with the slightest deduction, be applied to himself, that his imperial fancy laid all nature under tribute, and collected riches from every scene of the creation and every walk of art; and at the same time, that could be affirmed of Mr. Hall which could not be affirmed of Mr. Burke, that he never fatigued and oppressed by gaudy and superfluous imagery. . . His inexhaustible variety augmented the general effect. The same images, the same illustrations, scarcely ever recurred."-DR. OLINTHUS GREGORY. "Whoever wishes to see the English language in its perfection must read the writings of that great divine, Robert Hall. He combines the beauties of Johnson, Addison, and Burke, without their imperfections."-DUGALD STEWART. THE HORRORS OF WAR. Though the whole race of man is doomed to dissolution, and we are all hastening to our long home, yet at each successive moment, life and death seem to divide between them the dominion of mankind, and life to have the larger share. It is otherwise in war: death reigns there without a rival, and without control. War is the work, the element, or rather the sport and triumph, of death, who glories, not only in the extent of his conquest, but in the richness of his spoil. In the other methods of attack, in the other forms which death assumes, the feeble and the aged, who at the best can live but a short time, are usually the victims; here it is the vigorous and the strong. It is tus] that, in peace children bury their pa rents, in war parents bury their children: nor is the difference small. Children lament their parents, sincerely indeed, but with that moderate and tranquil sorrow which it is natural for those to feel who are conscious of retaining many tender ties, many anichildren with the bitterness of despair: the mating prospects. Parents mourn for their aged parent, the widowed mother, loses, when she is deprived of her children, everything but the capacity of suffering; her heart, withered and desolate, admits no other object, cherishes no other hope. It is Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be com forted, because they are not. But to confine our attention to the number of the slain would give us a very inadequate idea of the ravages of the sword. The lot of those who perish instantaneously may be considered, apart from religious prospects, as comparatively happy, since they are exempt from those lingering diseases and slow tortures to which others are liable. We cannot see an individual expire, though a stranger or an enemy, without being sensibly moved, and prompted by compassion to lend him every assistance in our power. Every trace of resentment vanishes in a moment: every other emotion gives way to pity and terror. In these last extremities we remember nothing but the respect and tenderness due to our common nature. What a scene then must a field of battle present, where thousands are left without assistance and without pity, with their wounds exposed to the piercing air, while the blood, freezing as it flows, binds them to the earth, amid the trampling of horses and the insults of an enraged foe! If they are spared by the humanity of the enemy and carried from the field, it is but a prolongation of torment. Conveyed in uneasy vehicles, often to a remote distance, through roads almost impassable, they are lodged in ill-prepared receptacles for the wounded and the sick, where the variety of distress baffles all the efforts of humanity and skill, and renders it impossible to give to each the attention he demands. Far from their native home, no tender assiduities of friendship, no well-known voice, no wife, or mother, or sister is near to soothe their sorrows, relieve their thirst, or close their eyes in death. Unhappy man! and must you be swept into the grave unnoticed and unnumbered, and no friendly tear be shed for your sufferings or mingled with your dust! We must remember, however, that as a very small proportion of a military life is spent in actual combat, so it is a very small part of its miseries which must be ascribed to this source. More are consumed by the |