NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. No. CLXXXIV. JULY, 1859. ART. L 1. The Life of Michel Angelo Buonarroti, with Translations of many of his Poems and Letters. Also Me- moirs of Savonarola, Raphael, and Vittoria Colonna. By JOHN S. HARFORD. In 2 vols. London. 185L 2. L?fe of Michel Angelo. By R. DUPPA. Bolins Illustrated Library. 3. Rime e I ose di MIOHELAGNOLO BUONARROTI, Pittore, ,Scul- tore, Archztetto, e Poeta Fiorentino. Milan. 1821. THE fame of Michel Angelo towers above that of all modern rivals as loftily as Mont Blanc, with its crown of eternal snow, overlooks the hills that encircle it and the plains that lie at its feet. So mighty is his intellectual power, so severe and ma.. jestic is his moral grandeur, so intense is the pure light which surrounds him, that we shrink with awe from the attempt to analyze his nature or measure his stature. But as the lofty mountain reveals its whole wealth and beauty only to him who climbs its side or mines its depths, so is the character of a true hero the more impressive, the more closely it is studied. We shall thercKre accept the opportunity which a new biography offers, to pay our tribute of reverence to a soul so great and so rich that the oft-repeated theme can never be exhausted. Notwithstanding the almost divine honor which was paid to Michel Angelo by his contemporaries, and which succeeding generations have fully sanctioned, his character is too often misunderstood, and his works are misjudged. No adequate VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 1 2 THE LIFE AND POEM$ OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, biography of him has yet been written. While he yet lived, his friends Vasari and Condivi wrote their accounts of his life and works; but, although highly entertaining and valuable, these biographies abound in obvious errors, and fail to present his life in its just proportions. Succeeding writers have drawn their facts mainly from these authors, correcting gross anach- ronisms, and adding such slight incidents as could be gleaned from the records of that period. Mr. ilarford has endeavored to supply the existing want, by giving us a picture of the great artist in the midst of his asso- ciates, influenced by the spirit of his age and its leading men, and reacting upon them. He is the first biographer who has recognized the value of the poems as affording a key to Michil Angelos character, and as indicating the growth of his intel- lectual and religious life. We are grateful to him for this attempt, and for the amount of valuable information which he has collected; yet we think he has rather smoothed the way towards the preparation of a good biography than written one. His story is encumbered with too many episodes, which break the thread of the narrative, and destroy the unity of im- pression. His readers might be supposed to be already suffi- ciently familiar with the leading facts in the lives of Raphael, Perugino, and Leonardo da Vinci. The connection of Michel Angelo with Savonarola seems too slight to justify the large space which he occupies in the book, although the notice of him is full of interest. With better judgment the author has assigned a distinct place to the life and writings of the distin- guished Vittoria Colonna, whose relation to Michel Angelo required more than a brief notice. A graver defect in the book is the strong prominence given by the author to his own theological views, and his effort to force the expressions of his hero into more meaning than they naturally bear. Slight in- accuracies of translation and defects of style are less important. On the whole, we shall find it a good guide to the study of Michel Angelos life and writings, although we shall not deem it prudent to ignore other authorities in connection with it. In intellectual force Michel Angelo was probably unsur- passed by any man of modern times. In sculpture, which he claimed as his true sphere, no modern artist has approached 1859.] ThE LIFE AN]) POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 8 him, and if he has not all the perfect grace and beauty which belong to the finest period of Grecian art, still he is no unsuc- cessful imitator of the Greeks, but an originator of his own path. In strong individual expression, in the language of the soul, he rises higher than any ancient sculptor. He was not Greek in constitution or in temperament. He strove to soar beyond limitations, to realize conceptions too vast for a mor- tal to execute. Above the visible form he strives to seek Ideal Form, the universal mould; while Grecian art affected moderation and quiet, and accepted the conditions and limitations of matter. In the massive forms and masterly action of his Day and Night, in the immense re- served force expressed in his Prisoners, we see his wonderful creative power. Overcoming the reluctance of a sensitive na- ture to the process of dissection, for at first he shrank from it like a girl, he gave twelve years to the study of anatomy, dissecting with his own hand not only human bodies, but ani- mals, especially the horse, until, according to Condivi, his knowledge of human anatomy and of other animals was so correct, that those who had all their lives studied it as their profession hardly understood the subject so well. With this perfect knowledge of the structure of the human body, and his reverence for this temple of God, he seemed to have an entire command of the frame for the purpose of expression, either in action or repose. He designed it with the most astonishing freedom, exactness, and rapidity. In sculpture, he often worked at once upon the marble from a small model, with but few of those mechanical aids or measurements which are indispensa- ble to less skilful artists, and expedient for all. An eyewitness, Blasio di Vignere, thus describes his method of working: I may say that I have seen Michel Angelo at work after he had passed his sixtieth year; and although he was not very robust, he cut away as many scales from a block of very hard marble in a quarter of an hour, as three young sculptors would have effected in tbree or four hours, a thing almost incredible to one who has not actually witnessed it. Such was the impetuosity and fire with which he pursued his labor, that I almost thought the whole work must have gone to pieces. With a single stroke he brought down fragments three or four fingers thick, and so close upon his mark, that, had he passed it even in the slightest 4 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, degree, there would have been danger of ruining the whole, since any such injury, unlike the case of works in plaster or stucco, would have been irreparable. In this manner the figures of slaves or prisoners for the sep- ulchre of Pope Julius were executed. But even this great man was not entirely safe in pursuing so hazardous a method. He sometimes cut too deeply, or did not allow room enough for his design, which was the cause of his leaving many unfin- ished works. It is said that the jealousy of his enemies, who wished to show his inferiority to Raphael, excited Julius II. to command Michel Angelo to paint the Sistine Chapel in fresco. Certain it is that the artist accepted the task with reluctance, declar- ing that painting was not his province, and that Raphael was the man above all others the best qualified for the undertaking. He had already, however, given such proofs of his skill in de- sign, in the famous Cartoon of Pisa, that the Pope, fortunately for the world, persisted in his demand. Although at first dis- couraged by a failure in his work caused by the state of the plaster, he finally succeeded, and the splendid result is well known. That whole grand hierarchy of prophets and sibyls was the work of his lofty imagination. For grandeur of con- ception and sublimity of expression they stand unrivalled in the world. As Allston has said of them, they seem like beings of another sphere, such as a poetic nature might imagine to be the inhabitants of the planet Saturn. The artist who created these exalted and glorious forms was he who knew thoroughly all the details of the anatomy of the human frame. How vain is the fear of little minds, that knowledge should clip the wings of genius, or science chill the imagination of the artist! It is in this branch of art alone that we can compare Raphael with Miciel Angelo. It is a parallel full of instruction and interest. So entirely genuine and elevated was the art of each, that both must gain by the comparison. Raphael seems to us wider in his range of expression, more fertile in invention, more varied and pleasing. If others have surpassed him in some single quality, no one has equalled him in the harmonious combination of all excellences. In none do we find strength and tenderness so happily blended. He sometimes approaches Michel Angelo in sublimity, as in his Sibyls and his Transfigu 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MIOHEL ANGELO. 5 ration; but this is not his native element. lie does not seek to stand upon the mountain-top alone with God, but prefers to mingle among men, and to partake of their loves and joys and sorrows. Thus while the few regard Michel Angelo with a reverence approaching to worship, Raphael is the favorite with the many, who find in his amenities and graces their human natures daily food. The vast soul of his great competitor included tenderness and womanly pity, but these were not the prevailing habit of his mind nor the predominating expression of his works. If we seek for them, we shall find abundant traces of his noble heart both in his life and his works. The jealous rivalry between these two distinguished men has, it seems to us, been much overrated. A keen retort or witty jest too often embalms the memory of a transient spark of an- ger, and is taken as the index of the whole tone of a mans feeling.* Could Raphael have felt a low jealousy of Michel Angelo, when he thanked God that he lived in the same time with him? A mans followers generally share and exagger- ate his enmities; but Vasari, the dear friend of Michel Angelo, pays a tribute to Raphael which almost exhausts the language of praise. When this great artist, he says, closed his eyes in death, painting almost seemed to die with him. It remains for us to imitate the perfect models which he has bequeathed, and to cherish in our hearts his mem- ory, which has left behind it a delightful fragrance He taught us by his example what is the fitting and proper course of conduct in our relations with men of the highest, the middle, and the humblest ranks of life. Would Vasari have said this of one whose relation to his idolized Michel Angelo was of jealous hostility? And did not the elder artist himself offer to yield the palm of painting to his younger rival, the only glory which the latter could dis- pute with him? Yet so different were the characters of the * A picture in the Luxembourg, by a French artist, seems to us most unhappy in the choice of subject, since it serves only to perpetuate the memory of this feud. It is said that when Raphael was going to the school, attended by a crowd of gay followers, Michel Angelo said to him, There you go, with a crowd flocking after you, like a criminal to the gallows. And you, retorted Raphael, go skulking alone like the hangman. This scene the painter has represented in vivid colors, but should he have painted it at all l 1* 6 TRE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, two men, the one severely temperate, strict in self-discipline, ascetic in habits, and reserved in manners, and the other lux- urious in his mode of life, free and gracious in his deportment, seeking and winning popular fame, is it strange that they were not congenial companions, and could not be friends? The world has fully recognized Michel Angelos merits as a sculptor and a painter; but lie has other claims on our admi- ration. Had he lived in our day, he might have been chiefly known as an eminent mechanician; for no one can wholly es- cape the influence of his age, and ours asks for great inventors rather than great artists. But in the times of the Medici his superior mechanical skill was called out only by urgent neces- sity. When about to paint the Sistine Chapel, he found the scaffolding supported by cords from the ceiling in such a man- ner as to leave large holes which would be visible after the painting was completed. He objected to this arrangement, on which the architect replied, that it was impossible to suspend the scaffolding in any other manner, and that they must think of a remedy for the defect after the work was done. The painter, by no means satisfied with this answer, obtained per- mission from the Pope to take down the old scaffolding, and to erect a new one on his own plan. He accomplished his end by machinery so simple and effectual, that it was afterwards adopted by Bramante in the building of St. Peters, and is supposed to be still in use in Rome. Michel Angelo gave this invention to the poor man whom he employed as a carpenter, who gained from it a sufficient fortune to endow his daughters with marriage portions. In 1528 the republic and city of Florence were thrown into great alarm by an apprehended attack from the Emperor Charles and his troops. Michel Angelo, whose patriotism was warm and earnest, was entreated to accept the responsible of- fice of Commissary-General of the Fortifications. He entered upon this duty with zeal and success, at once making a thor- ough inspection of the fortifications, and directing all essential repairs. Sagaciously perceiving the most exposed point, he put the mountain called St. Miniato in a complete state of de- fence by strengthening the old walls and erecting new works and bastions. He went to Ferrara to study its fortifications, 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 7 which were considered very perfect. He spent six months in the accomplishment of this object, giving his personal superin- tendence to the works. So great was his scientific skill, that the celebrated French engineer, Vauban, devoted much time to making measurements and drawings of these fortifications. A greater proof of his skill is the fact that the point which he had fortified became the principal object of the enemys at- tack; but his batteries answered their fire with such effect, that no impression was made upon them. Finding the beautiful church of St. Miniato in danger from the enemys cannon, it having been selected as a point more vulnerable than the for- tress, Michel Angelo defended it in a most ingenious and ef- fectual manner. From the top he hung mattresses of wool on the side exposed to attack, and by means of a bold, project- ing cornice, from which they were suspended, a considerable space was left between them and the walls: this plan he effected in the night, and the future cannonading of the enemy only served to show to advantage this simple expedient. We are at once reminded of General Jacksons defence of New Orleans with cotton-bags. Probably the brave old hero never thought of Michel Angelo as a tutor in the arts of war; but native vigor of mind, and quick invention, lead to the same result on the Arno and the Mississippi. Being warned of the treacherous designs of Malatesta Bag- lioni, a chieftain in the Florentine ranks, Michel Angelo com- municated his information to the government, who refused to credit his suspicions. Indignant at this negligence, he with- drew to Ferrara, where he was warmly received by the Duke. Thence he proceeded to Venice, where he was greeted with similar honors. He was followed thither by the earnest en- treaties of his countrymen to return to Florence and aid in their defence. Ample apologies were offered to him. His heart was with his country, and he returned to see her ruin consummated by treachery, famine, and assault. A capitula- tion being agreed upon, Michel Angelo secreted himself. It was fortunate that he did so; for he was expressly excepted from the promised amnesty, and a diligent search was made for him. The Pope, however, saw the folly of sacrificing the great artist to political feeling, and after a while he published THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MIOHEL ANGELO. 8 [July, a manifesto, offering him safety and freedom on the condition of finishing the two monuments already commenced at San Lorenzo. He accepted the condition, and labored assiduously at the task assigned him. These monuments were erected to Giuliano de Medici, and his nephew Lorenzo. On the sarcoph- agi are the grand figures, personifying Morning and Evening, Day and Night. It was reserved for his old age to add another glory to his fame. At the advanced age of seventy-two he entered upon his greatest architectural labor, the completion of the Church of St. Peter. He accepted this commission with extreme re- luctance, objecting his age and infirmities, and pleading that architecture was not his profession. But, as in the case of the decoration of the Sistine Chapel, the Pope would admit of no excuse; and, having once accepted the task, Michel Angelo devoted himself ardently to the work, for the love of God. In the deed which confirmed his appointment he required the insertion of his refusal of all salary for his labors, and for six- teen years he toiled amid opposition and embarrassment so great that he twice offered to resign his position. He was obliged to undo much which his predecessors had done, and to narrow his own plan to accommodate the scanty finances of the Papal treasury. He did not live to see the completion of his work, and his simple and grand design was much altered and injured by his successors. Mr. ilarford has given us two very interesting sketches, one of his original design, the other of St. Peters as it now stands. The superior harmony and beauty of the plan at once strike the eye. Notwithstanding this and many other valuable services which he rendered to architecture, critics have considered him a bold innovator, whose example has led others astray; but whatever technical faults may be found, it is impossible to deny him, in this as in the other arts, the praise of grand and lofty ideas, and a thor- ough perception of the means by which they can be expressed. Thus Michel Angelo as sculptor, painter, military engineer, and architect, at once and decidedly takes the first rank. It might seem at the first glance as if his colossal mind knew no childhood and no degrees of progress; but in truth hours and years of earnest toil and silent thought helped to build up the 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 9 man that he was. Only the crown of literature is wanting to place him on the highest pinnacle of intellectual greatness. To analyze the claims of Michel Angelo the poet, is a task of no slight difficulty or importance. But the inadequate treat- ment which this subject has already received, is a warrant for any attempt to do him justice, however imperfect. A few Eng- lish writers have done something towards making his works known in their language. A little volume by Taylor contains an analysis of his poetic merits, with translations of some of his poems. Southey has given a spirited version of the Sonnets to Dante. But Wordsworth has done more than any other Eng- lish poet to familiarize him to us, by his exquisite version of three of his finest sonnets, to which we shall again refer. Other writers have passed them by almost without notice. Schlegel does not name him in any article on Italian poetry. The criti- cal biography of him by M. Duppa, pronounced by the younger Hazlitt to ISe wholly satisfactory, and republished in Bohns justly celebrated Library, has but a few pages devoted to his poems. That author indeed speaks of the poems in the most depre- ciatory style. He says: Michel Angelo probably wrote them at different times, as subjects occurred to his mind, and as he felt disposed to imitate Petrarch. In some instances he has been successful. The love sonnet LXX. in the collection is written with great facility, and some of the religious sonnets show that he felt, not the love of God or trust in Divine pro- tection, but the rhythm and poetic harmony of the Italian language! He continues: Of the sonnets, religion and love are the prevailing subjects. In the former, Michel An- gelo is sometimes very successful, in the latter he is either monotonous or quaint; a jargon of Platonism and crude met- aphysical divinity, acquired from the prevailing taste of the times, with little mind and no sensibility, supply the place of real feeling. (!) The modest poet says of himself, that writ- ing was a great labor to him, because it was not his art. He wrote, however, from no outward demand, but from the need of expression in his own soul. Thus writing, we should expect to find his own individual life revealed even more fully in his words than in his favorite art of sculpture; and we believe. 10 THE LIFE AN]) POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, that no one can do justice to the full glory of his character, either intellectual or religious, without a loving study of his poems. From his countrymen in his own day, and ever since, they have received their meed of study and admiration. Crit- ics did not hesitate to say that Michel Angelo had added to himself the fourth crown of poetry. Manni, the editor of an edition of his poems published in 1726, thinks it superfluous to add his commendation to the works of a poet whom innu- merable writers have with their highest praises exalted to the stars, among whom he numbers the most celebrated Acade- micians of Florence. Another says: His poems should be enclosed in a vase of emerald. Still better, another says of Michel Angelo: He says things; the rest say words. The learned Varchi wrote a commentary on the First Sonnet, to which Michel Angelo replied: The sonnet indeed came from me, but your commentary is from heaven. This same critic delivered three lectures on the poems of our artist before the Florentine Academy, one of which on this same sonnet lies be- fore us. After praising the divinity and beneficence of Love, he says: Some may ask how this can be when lovers are so much afflicted. To which doubt, he continues, no one has more truly replied, or more learnedly, than Michel Angelo Buonarroti, in his oldest sonnet, full of ancient purity and Dante-like gravity. I say Michel Angelo Buonarroti without any other title or surname, because I cannot find any other epithet which it does not appear to me is either contained in that name or is inferior to it. We have also two lectures by Mario Giuducci, delivered be- fore the Florentine Academy, in 1817, on the occasion of the discovery of additional poems of Michel Angelo. He says: These poems, like his works, delight us by their beauty, while those who can penetrate their depths feed their minds with the more internal and exquisite meaning. His first lecture is written to prove the purity of that love which Michel Angelo celebrates, and its wide distinction from sensual lust; and the second is devoted to an explanation of the poets comparison of his lady to a magnet. These commentators use a great deal Gf quaint and tedious analysis, which does not suit our modern taste; but they show at least the high estimation in which the poems are held. 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICITEL ANGELO. 11 When we compare the value given by his countrymen to these works with the low estimate of M. Duppa, we feel it to be a great merit in Mr. ilarford that he has recognized their importance, and given them a prominent place in his book. We frequently differ with him in his explanation of their character and spirit, and his translations are often feeble and inadequate; but he has opened the way, and will lead many readers to the original source. Would that all who reverence the character of the greatest artist of modern times would seek to know him still more intimately through his poetic utter- ances! Here are colors that will never fade, and forms that will not crumble into dust. We may sit at our own fireside, and commune with his genius as fully as in the Sistine Chapel or at St. Peters. Why Wordsworth has done so little, and others almost noth- ing, towards domesticating these poems in our language, is ex- plained in a passage from a letter of Wordsworth to a friend. I mentioned Michel Angelos poetry to you some time ago. It is the most difficult to construe I ever met with, but just what you would ex- pect from such a man, showing abundantly how conversant his soul was with great things. There is a mistake in the world concerning the Ital- ian language. The poetry of Dante and Michel Angelo proves that, if there be little majesty and strength in Italian verse, the fault is in the authors and not in the tongue. I can translate, and have translated, two books of Ariosto at the rate nearly of one hundred lines a day, but so much meaning has been put by Michel Angelo into so little room, and that meaning sometimes so excellent in itself, that I found the dif- ficulty of translating him insurmountable. I attempted at least fifteen of the sonnets, but could not anywhere succeed. I have sent you the only one I was able to finish; it is far from being the best or most characteristic, but the others were too much for me. This testimony from so high authority is extremely valuable, we only regret that Wordsworth did not allow the public to judge of his success with the whole fifteen. The sonnets pub- lished in his collected works are among the finest translations in our language; and, if not closely literal, are yet full of the spirit of the masterly original. Michel Angelo was an earnest student of Italian poetry, especially of Dantes. If the form of his poems resembles 12 TIlE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, Petrarchs, the spirit is in harmony with that of the author of the Vita Nuova. He illustrated his own copy of the Divina Commedia with many designs, whose power we cannot doubt; but the book is unfortunately lost. He does not appear to have exercised his own poetic powers at a very early age, al- though we have but few data as to the time of the production of his verses. The earliest poem extant seems to have been written about the year 1504, when he was thirty years of age. We are told vaguely, that they were written at various times, which is evident enough from their contents. The sonnet commencing Non ha 1 ottimo artista alcun concetto, and other pieces, were printed during his lifetime, in the year 1549, and Varchi immediately wrote that celebrated commen- tary which gave so much gratification to the poet. Many of the poems were written in his old age and in the near prospect of death. Some of them were inserted in various collections of miscellaneous poems, but they were first arranged and pub- lished collectively by his nephew, Michel Angelo Buonarroti the younger, in the year 1623. In 1~T26, a more perfect edition was issued. The original manuscripts, clearly transcribed by his own hand, are preserved in the Vatican Library at Rome. The collection consists of sixty-two small poems called madri- gals, sixty-four sonnets, and a few pieces of greater length. Love, friendship, art, and religion are his themes, and all are treated on the highest plane of thought. They are, indeed, as Wordsworth has said, just what we should expect from the painter of the Sistine Chapel or the architect of St. Peters. Let us look a little more nearly into their contents and meaning. Mr. ilarford has developed at great length his Platonic the- ory of the Sonnets on Love. Like M. iDuppa, he seems to consider Michel Angelo insensible to this passion in its full power, and to regard his verses only as veiled expressions of his philosophy. We cannot accept this theory to the extent to which he pushes it, any more than we can believe that the poets great object in writing was to imitate Petrarch. At times he may have pleased himself with imitating a poet whom he admired, and certainly the sublime philosophy of Plato, so 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 13 prevalent in the learned society in which his youth was passed, had its influence upon him; but it seems to us the critics dig very deep for what is clear and open as day. Michel Angelo wrote to embody those lofty and tender feelings whose natural form is poetry. He expressed the love which stirred his heart; but his love took on the noble livery of his soul, and is as chaste and elevated as Plato imagined it. How can we believe that a nature so impassioned and earnest, so keenly alive to beauty, so tender and devoted, could pass through life without feeling the master-passion of humanity? And what is more in har- mony with his character than an impenetrable veil of silence over a feeling which had failed of its object in life? It is not the cold and selfish egotist, whose soul remains chaste, and his ideal of woman exalted, through a life spent in the most disso- lute cities of the world; but it is he who has once seen his ideal of woman embodied, while the waters of sorrow have baptized his love with a religious consecration. It is thus that Michel Angelo speaks in a sonnet which Wordsworth has finely translated No mortal object did these eyes behold, When first they met the placid light of thine, And my Soul felt her destiny divine, And hope of endless peace in me grew bold: Heaven-born, the Soul a heavenward course must hold; Beyond the visible world she soars to seek (For what delights the sense is false and weak) Ideal Form, the universal mould. The wise man, I affirm, can find no rest In that which perishes; nor will he lend His heart to aught which doth on time depend. T is sense, unbridled will, and not true love, That kills the soul: love betters what is best, Even here below, but more in heaven above. Is this a mere effort of the fancy, trying to imitate feeling? Who can credit it? We would not seek to draw from the silence where he has left them the details of his heart- history; but that he worshipped, like Dante, the bright ideal of early love through his whole life of suffering, toil, and glory, is a belief which fire will not melt out of us. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. VOL. LXXXIX. NO 184. 2 14 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, In the same strain is the following, as rendered in Words- / worths translation Yes, hope may with my strong desire keep pace, And I be undeluded, unbetrayed; For if of our affections none finds grace In sight of Heaven, then wherefore bath God made The world which we inhabit? Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee Glory to that eternal Peace is paid, Who such divinity to thee imparts As ballows and makes pure all gentle hearts. His hope is treacherous only whose love dies With beauty, which is varying every hour; But in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power Of outward change, there blooms a deatbiess flower, That breathes on earth the air of Paradise. This feeling is indeed far from any low, or merely sensual love; but if it be a mere philosophic worship of beauty, this grand defence seems wholly out of place. The following sonnet is even more conclusive: Non ~ colpa mai sempre empia e mortale Per immensa bellezza un grande amore, Se poi si lascia rammollito ii core Si, che 1 penetri un bel divino strale. Amore sveglia, e muove, e impenna 1 ale Per alto volo, ed ~ spesso ii suo ardore II primo grado ond al suo Creatore, Non ben contenta qul, 1 anima sale. L amor, che di te parla, in alto aspira, Ned ~ vano e caduco; e mal eonviensi Arder per altro a cuor saggio e gentile L un tira al cielo, e 1 altro a terra tira: Nell alma 1 un, 1 altro abita nei sensi, B 1 arco volge a segno e basso e vile. * * After Wordsworths disclaimer, we can venture a translation, since we do not find one elsewhere, only in a note It is not always vain and empty sin To love a glorious beauty with great love, If thus diviner arrows from above May penetrate the softened heart within. Love wakes and moves and plumes the wing For highest flight, and oft its burning ray, Natures first step, shall on its upward way The aspiring soul to its Creator bring. 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICTIEL ANGELO. 15 Love is the first foretaste of that union with God for which every religious soul longs; for with Michel Angelo religion is the all-pervading life, and love is not discordant, but har- monious with it. This seems to us the grand pervading truth of these sonnets, which exalts them above all other poems on Love, even above the more exquisite and graceful verses of Dante. But in order to give our readers the data for forming their own judgment, we will add two sonnets, one of which Mr. Harford claims as the strongest support of his theory, and another which even he allows must have been addressed to an earthly object. He says The little poem upon Beauty, and the passages from Plato which follow it, compared with the subsequent sonnets, must, we are per- suaded, have convinced our readers that an allegorical meaning, not at first sight obvious, pervades these poetic effusions; and that it is not an earthly lover who speaks in them, but the Platonist, who in solitude contemplates the abstract idea of Perfect Beauty and Perfect Love. But, as if to make this inference certain, Michel Angelo, in the foliowing remarkable sonnet, has distinctly declared such to be his real meaning: SONNET VI. The life-spring of my love is not my heart; I love thee with a love devoid of heart; There tending where nor human passion fraught With error nor a guilty thought is found. Love, when our souls proceeded forth from God, My vision clear and thee all splendor made; And still I seem its traces to behold Een in thy frame which sin has mortal made. As heat from fire is not divisible, Thus with the Eternal blends the Beautiful, And I their emanations ever hail. Beholding in thine eyes bright Paradise, Ever beneath their radiance I would dwell, And thus return where first I loved thee so. Love speaks of thee, and looks on high: It is not vain nor slight, and suits but ill An earth-born flame, to wise and gentle heart. One draws to heaven, but one on earth would lie; One doth the soul, one but the senses fill, Bending its bow to base and villain art. 16 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, The thought of this seems to us perfectly in harmony with that of the preceding one. Love is not born of time and the body, but is an eternal attribute of the soul. Yet its ex- pression in mortal beauty, and the passion of love, if kept pure, will raise the human being again to that heaven which is his true sphere. In regard to the next sonnet, Mr. Harford says The following sonnet, which ranks among his finest, must have reference to some beloved individual. SONNET XXI. Lady, how can it he? and yet each day Experience teaches that a form or face Chiselled in stone or marbles purer grace Lives when the framers hand is lifeless clay. The cause infirm to the effect gives way, And Art on Nature smiles with conquering pride, I know it well, to Sculpture fair allied, And Time thus plays a faithless part with me. Haply my practised art to us may prove The enduring record of each face and mind In stone or colors wrought with power refined, So that to distant times it may appear How bright thy beauty was, how deep my love, And that true love neer moved in nobler sphere. The translations of these sonnets are far inferior to the original in vigor and terseness of expression; but this defect is almost unavoidable. Yet a mere prose translation is often better than one in blank verse, which gives neither the form of the original nor the exact shades of thought. In the last three lines of the above sonnet we lose entirely the simplicity of expression in the Italian, Sicchi~ mill anni dopo la partita, Quanto tu bella fosti, ed io t amassi Si veggia, e come a amarti io non fui stolto, which may be literally translated: So that a thousand years after our parting, it may be seen how beautiful thou wast, and how much I loved thee, and that I was not foolish in loving thee. Mr. Harford is more successful in some of the lighter madrigals. Although not very literal, the version has much grace and sweetness. Witness the following: 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 17 My eyes, which love to gaze on beauteous things, Act on my soul, which pants for heavenly light, Until I almost seem endued with wings, Neath Beautys smile, for a supernal flight. From loftiest stars shoot down a radiance all their own, Drawing the soul above. And such we say is Love; For naught can so control, Charm, penetrate the soul, Or counsel it in monitory guise, As a sweet face set off by star-like eyes. Another of the most playful of these effusions is thus pret- tily rendered What is the power which, though Im free, Draws me in fetters bound to thee, Sweet source of all my joy and pain? If to enchain without a chain, If round my yielding heart to twine Soft bands invisible, be thine, What shall defend me from the grace, The winning beauties of thy face? What from the living splendor of thine eyes, Where Love, embattled, points his arrowy sorceries? There is something very touching in this graceful play of feeling, rich in thought even in its lighter strains, from one whose grander achievements and sterner virtues have almost hidden from the world his great human heart, with those sweet clustering tendrils called human affections. Mr. ilar- ford says: They seem at least to argue, that, although there is no evidence of his ever having been seriously in love, he was no stranger to the influence of female charms. No evi- dence of his having seriously loved? In what act of his whole life was he not thoroughly earnest and serious ? and what better proof do we ask that he loved, than these fervent words, which express love in its highest exaltation? If the glow and the warmth do not indicate fire, what proof shall we seek? Shall we believe in passion only when, unbridled by con- science and religion, it works destruction and woe? Is Byron a lover, and Michel Angelo only a verse-maker? Before leaving the poems referring to Love, we must add one on Marriage, which we do not find translated, but which 2* 18 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, seems to us wonderful for its justness and fulness of thought. We have made more attempts to translate it into verse than Bruce did to gain his kingdom, or the spider to fix his thread, but without the like success; so that our prosaic version will only serve as a help to those who are not full y conversant with the Italian. 5 un casto amor, s una piet~ superna, una fortuna infra duo amanti eguale Cui sia comune ognor la gioia e 1 male, Quando uno spirto sol due cor governa; una anima in duo corpi fatta eterna, Ambo levando al cielo, e con pan ale, 5 un simil fuoco, ed un conforme strale Ch altamente in due sen vive e s interna; 5 amar 1 un 1 altro, e nessun mai se stesso, Sol desiando amor d amor mercede, E se quel die vuol 1 un 1 altro precorre, A scambievole imperio sottomesso, Son segni pur di indissolubil fede, Or potri~ sdegno tanto nodo sciorre? If a chaste love, if a supreme piety, If a fortune equal between two lovers, To whom every joy and evil is in common When one spirit alone governs two hearts; If one soul made eternal in two bodies, Both rising to Heaven and with equal wings; If an equal flame, and a conformed aim, Which nobly lives and incarnates itself in two; If for each to love the other, and himself no longer, Love desiring love alone for its reward, And if that which one wishes, the other prefers, Submitted to a mutual empire ; If these are signs of indissoluble faith, What fatal power can loosen such a tie? If a man can so think and so write without having felt, we must grant that the intellect has found out a path to truth better than that appointed by Heaven through the heart and the life. Why this heart which knew love so well never found its answering joy on earth, we know not. When asked why he never married, he said that he was wedded to his art. The lonely heart knew its own needs; but why should it utter them to a curious ear? 1859.] TILE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 19 Among the poems which refer to his art, and show how closely it was interwoven with his whole life, love, and re- ligion, is the celebrated one already mentioned as having given rise to so many comments, commencing, Non ha 1 ottimo artista alcun concetto. This sonnet was composed in his eighty-first year, and sent by him to Vasari. The commentary of Yarchi, which so delighted Michel Angelo, seems to be an imitation of Dantes Vita Nuova, in which he divides his sonnets into parts according to their subjects, and then analyzes them very minutely. Varchis cri- tique is very elaborate, dwelling upon each separate word. A short extract from the introduction or explanation of the sub- ject of the sonnet may prove interesting to our readers. After speaking of love as the theme of the poet, he divides it into three kinds, and describes, first, the natural love which belongs to all things, and is the cause of gravitation, and is the growth of plants; then the sensitive, which belongs to animals, and enables them to choose and obtain what is good for them; and, lastly, intellectual or spiritual love, of which he says The third and last appetite and love is called rational, or rather intellectual, and this is found only in rational animals, or truly intellect- ual animals. It is in man, and it is the most perfect of all the others, whence he who has this may have, and indeed has necessarily, the other tWo, but not indeed together; and all these three loves are natural in man, and consequently good. Whence this doubt immediately arises which we touched upon in the beginning, How is it possible that a thing which comes from nature, and is consequently good, brings with it so many griefs, pains, and labors as are seen, felt, and suffered every day in loving? Which doubt this truly divine Angelo wishing to solve, and to recall mortals from the crooked and left-hand path to the right and straight, he does not do as many both anciently and lately have done and still do, who in order to exculpate themselves, or perhaps be- cause they do not understand the truth, lay the blame, (as t is said,) some on love, some on the beloved object, some on fortune; but he blames himself and no other, writing under his own name and person as the most pleasant and modest, to teach all complaining lovers of whom they ought to complain, and to whom to attribute the cause and the fault of all the passions and misfortunes which they feel and suffer in loving. And in order to demonstrate it more pleasantly and clearly, he uses (as Aristotle is accustomed to do) an example from artificial things, which 20 TILE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICILEL ANGELO. [July, are the most known to us, of which none could be imagined more appro- priate to the matter of which he treats, nor more fit for him who treats it. And it is this (if I understand how to display and amplify with many and long words, as he knew how to enclose and condense it into few and brief ones). If a sculptor had a marble, it is certain that in that marble exists in possibility, that is, may be drawn from it, every figure that can be imagined, as a man, a horse, a lion, and thus equally of all others; or we should rather say, that in that marble exists in pos- sibility, and may be drawn from it, all the beauty which the greatest master could give to any figure, say, for example, a Mercury. Now if a sculptor, working on this marble and making this Mercury, does not know how to bring it to that perfection which he has imagined, or which a better artist might have imagined, to whom shall we impute the fault, to the marble or to the sculptor? Thus h& goes on at some length to say, that, if a lover finds only injury and suffering in love, it is not the fault of love or of the beloved object, but of his own want of truth or skill. We give, in preference to more of the commentary, Mr. liar- fords translation of the sonnet itself: Whateer conception a great artist fires, Its answering semblance latent lies within A block of marble, but the hand alone, Swayed by the intellect, can give it form. Lady illustrious, graceful, and divine, The good Id seek for, and the ill I d shun, Thus latent are in thee ; but I, death-struck, Fail in my efforts to attain that good. Nor love then, nor thy beauty, are the cause, Nor adverse fortune, nor thy cold disdain Of the sad destiny neath which I pine. If death and pity each within my heart Together dwell, how weak my power, which fails, Though ardent, to extract thence aught but death! In this connection we cannot forbear quoting Michel Angelos own letter in regard to the sonnet and commentary, which is remarkable for its simple feeling and its tone of quiet humor. Our translation is as literal as possible. To M. LUCA MARTINI. fliustrious M. Luca, I have received by Bartolomeo Bettini your letter, with a little book, a commentary on a sonnet from my hand. The sonnet, indeed, comes from me, but the comment comes from heaven; 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 21 it is truly a wonderful thing. I do not say it from my judgment, but from that of superior men, and especially of M. IDonato Giannotti, who cannot be satisfied with reading it, and who sends you his remembrance. In regard to the sonnet, I know what it is; but however that may be, I cannot help feeling a little vainglory, having been the cause of so fine and learned a comment, and because through its author I feel myself by his words and praises to be what I am not. I pray that you will say for me to him such words as become such love, affection, and cour- tesy. I ask this of you because I feel myself of little worth, and he who is in good repute ought not to tempt fortune, and it is better to be silent than to fall from a height. I am old, and death has taken from me the thoughts of youth; and let him who does not know what old age is have patience till it arrives, for he cannot know it before. Commend me, as I have said, to Varchi, as his most affectionately, and sensible of his v rtues and of his service while I live. M. A. B. In Rome. This sonnet is true not only of love, but has also its broad application to human life. Is it not true that it rests with ourselves whether out of the hard marble of life we carve the divine statue of tranquillity, or the Gorgons head of remorse and despair? And only the hand which obeys the intellect * can find the fair image under its outward folds. One of the most pleasing of the madrigals states the authors artistic creed in poetic speech. It is unfair not to give it in his own words, so that we shall insert the original with only a literal prose version Per fido esempio alla mia vocazione, INascendo, mi fu data la bellezza Che di due arti m ~ lucerna e specchio, E, s altro uom crede, ~ falsa opinione. Questa sol 1 occhio porta a quella altezza Per cui scolpire e pingcr m apparecchio. Sono i giudizi temerari e sciocchi Ch al senso tiran la belt~t che muove, E porta al cielo ogni intelletto sano. Dal mortale al divin noa vanno gli occhi Che sono infermi, e non ascendon dove Ascender senza grazia ~ pensier vano. * This term is used by Michel Angelo to express all the higher or spiritual fac- ulties of the soul, not merely the understanding or the analytic reason. 22 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICILEL ANGELO. [July, At my birth Beauty was given to me for a faithful guide to my vocation, the light and mirror of two arts; and if man believes aught else, it is but a false opinion. This alone carries the eye to that height at which I prepare to sculpture and to paint. Those thoughts are rash and foolish which draw from sense the beauty that moves every sane soul and bears it to heaven. Infirm eyes cannot pass from the mortal to the Divine, nor rise there where to hope to rise without grace is vain. His inspiration came from above, not from below, not from imitating nature, but from the grace of God. How faithfully he labored in his study of nature, we have seen by his devotion to anatomy. He sought there the means of expression; but the thought was heaven-born. This made him the grand idealist that he was, whose every work bears the stamp of sublimity and grandeur. His Sonnets to Dante are very beautiful; but as they have been admirably translated by Southey, and are the most widely known of any of the poems, we must pass them by. Others are addressed to various learned men of his time. We need not dwell on them, but would rather turn to one of the most pleasing passages of his life, his relation to the cele- brated Vittoria Colonna. His friendship for this distinguished woman was one of the greatest joys of his later years. He was sixty-four years of age at the commencement of their acquaintance; she was but forty-eight; yet he survived to mourn her death many years. Their affection was founded on great similarity of intellectual taste and religious feeling. They were both devoted admirers of Savonarola, and the lady was even suspected of a secret adherence to the doctrines of the Reformation. While their mutual regard partook of that poetic fervor and beauty which always belong to a tender rela,- tion between persons of opposite sex, we agree with Mr. Har- ford, that it was not a passionate attachment on either side, but a noble and earnest friendship, as between two lofty beings whose characters admirably harmonized. Her pious warmth and zeal kindled into lively expression the strong religious feelings of his soul. We think Mr. Harford lays too much doctrinal stress on the language of feeling which per- vades the poems addressed to her. We often err in con- structing a system of theology out of the outpourings of a 1859.] TIlE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICILEL ANGELO. 23 pious heart. It is well known that Charles Lambs vivid pic- ture of the sufferings of a drunkard led to an exaggerated report of his own inebriety; and the self-accusations of a sensitive conscience should not be taken as a calm estimate of ones own nature. That one so aspiring as Michel Angelo, and so exacting in his standard of right, should use the lan- guage of penitence and pious shame, is extremely natural; that, as he approached the grave, in moments of despondency all things of earth should seem vain and profitless to him, is true to common experience; but shall we thence argue that he had lived a sinful life, and that he repented of the glorious thoughts on philosophy and art, which, united to religion, had been his constant guides? Mr. ilarford says: We find the lofty Platonist transmuted into the humble Christian, who, on a review of the past, is deeply smitten with a sense of his own unworthiness, and can find no ground for present peace or immortal hope but that of penitential faith in the merits of his Redeemer. We find no discrepancy in his views. His philosophy is religious, and his religion pervades his whole mind. We find the same lofty faith in God in his earliest as in his latest works, only at the last it is mingled with more of that tenderness which belongs to old age, and his theme is less of the labors which lie before him on earth, and more of the con- solations which await him in eternity. As he labored in art to the close of his long life, we cannot believe that he con- sidered his devotion to it idle and unprofitable; but that lie did all things, as he built St. Peters, per amor diDio. We find five poems addressed to the Marchioness Vittoria Colonna, including one on her death. With much religious feeling, there is the graceful devotion of a poet to an accom- plished lady, hardly in keeping with the devotional asceticism which Mr. Harford ascribes to him. The first expresses most strongly his gratitude for her religious influence over him. Midst endless doubts shifting from right to left, How my salvation to secure I seek: And still twixt Vice and Virtue balancing, My heart, confused, weighs down and wearies me. As one who, having lost the light of heaven, Bewildered strays, whatever path he takes, 24 THE LIFE AN]) POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, I, lady, to your sacred penmanship Present the blank page of my troubled mind, That you, in dissipation of my doubts, May on it write how my benighted soul Of its desired end may not so fail As to incur at length a fatal fall. Be you the writer who have taught me how To tread by fairest paths the way to Heaven. We add another in a different vein, although Mr. ilarfords graceful version is rather a paraphrase than a literal trans- lation. Lady, I trust it is not pride, But Obligation s so allied To Favor that I seem to se& In your exalted courtesy Infringement on my liberty. 0, rather injure me, than bind Such fetters on my free-born mind, Since the suns radiance, on the eye Shining in unblenched majesty, Should heighten, not oerwhelm, the sight. But dazzled by excess of light, On me thus acts your presence bright. It charms, and yet its potent ray Unnerves my reasons wonted sway. Small virtue, when its path is crossed By higher far, absorbed, is lost. They who too much bestow, confound; With such there is no common ground. Therefore, though rarely to be found, Love wills that friends should equal be In virtue and in quality. Finally, we have those plaintive strains of loneliness, of penitence, of regret in the retrospect of life, which, admirable as they seem to us, did not reach his own standard of per- fection, laments which befit an old age uncheered by the tender ties of family affection, and shaded by the near pros- pect of death. They are most precious, as showing how sensi- tive was the conscience, and how tender the heart, of the brave old giant. But let us not consider the outbursts of a suffer- ing soul as the calm estimates of his understanding. He was not occupied in comparing himself with other men; but in his solitary hours of communion with God and his own soul, 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 25 how trifling seemed all that he had done, how little all that he had attained, compared with the glorious model of perfection which rose before him! The old man who had seen genera- tion after generation pass away while he yet lingered, seemed to have his heart in heaven while he walked among men; and although his last days were spent in active service, his spirit dwelt on the heights of contemplation. He has woven for himself a sweet garland of faith and trust, better than the laurel-wreaths which we hang upon his tomb. For- tunately, Wordsworth, ~vhose own lofiy spirit so fully com- muned with his soul, has given us the following beautiful version of one of these sonnets The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed, If Thou the spirit give by which I pray: My unassisted heart is barren clay, That of its native self can nothing feed. Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, That quickens only where Thou saystit may: Unless Thou show to us thine own true way, No man can find it: Father! Thou must lead. Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind By which such virtue may in me be bred That in thy holy footsteps I may tread; The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, That I may have the power to sing of thee, And sound thy praises everlastingly. Again we give Mr. ilarfords translation of one of these sonnets False Love! with thee, for many a livelong year, I ye fed my soul, in part my body too: For thy seductive arts the unwary woo To flowery paths with pitfalls lurking near. Now wearied, on winged thoughts I upward steer, Where purer, nobler objects charm the view; Pardon I ask of God, with sorrow true, For faults which traced on endless sheets appears Far other Love points to Eternal Day: Imperishable Beauty leads me there; To its bright shafts my bosom I unbare; One urges on, the other smooths my way. Hope smiles celestial: in those smiles Ill trust, Till neath some marble sleeps, at length, my dust. VOL. LXXXIX.NO. 184. 3 26 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICH~EL ANGELO. [July, The following, of which we find no translation, is peculiarly expressive of that communion with God which was the con- solation of Michel Angelos declining years Deh! fammiti vedere in ogni loco, Che, se infiammar dal tu@ lume mi sento, Ogni altro ardor nell alma mia fia spento, Per seinpre accesa viver nel tuo foco. Jo te chiamo, Signor, te solo invoco Contro 1 inutil mio cieco tormento; Tu mi rinnuova in sen col pentimento Le vo~lie, e 1 senno, e 1 valor ch i~ si poco. Tn desti al tempo 1 anima, cli ~ diva, E in questa spoglia si fragile e stanca La incarcerasti, e desti al suo destino; Tu la nutri, e sostieni, e tu 1 avviva; Ogni ben senza te, Signor, le manca; La sua salute i~ sol poter ~vino. We subjoin a literal translation Ah, make me to see thee in every place, For, if I feel myself illumined by thy light, Every other passion will be extinguished in my soul, That I may live always kindled by thy flame. I call on thee, 0 Lord, thee alone I invoke Against my vain, blind suffering. Do thou by repentance renew in my breast The will and the mind and the courage now so feeble. Thou last awakened into time the soul, which is divine; Thou hast imprisoned it in these vestments so frail and weary, And thou hast assigned it to its destiny; Do thou feed it and sustain it, and do thou enliven it All good, without thee, 0 Lord, is wanting to it; The Divine power alone is its salvation. Is not this the true expression of a soul in which faith and philosophy are not antagonistic, which sees A God employed in all the good and ill That checker life,~~ and believes his immanent presence to be the vivifying power of man, both soul and body? The following sonnet, possibly his last, was sent, in his eighty-third year, to Yasari 1859.] THE LIFE A~i POEMS OF MIGuEL ANGELO. 27 Giunto ~ gi~ 1 corso della vita mia Con tempestoso mar per fragil barca Al comun porto, ov a render si varca Giusta ragion d ogni opra trista, e pia: Onde 1 affettuosa fantasia, Che 1 arte si fece idolo e monarca, Conosco ben quant era d error carca; Cli errore ~ cib che 1 uom quaggiii desia. I pensier miei, gilt de mie danni lieti, Che fian or s a due morti m avvicino? L una m ~ certa, e 1 altra mi minaccia. N~ pinger, n~ scolpir fia piii die queti L anima volta a quell amor divino, Cli aperse a prender noi in croce le braccia. Already the course of my life, By a frail bark over a tempestuous sea, Has reached that common port where it goes to render A true account of every evil or pious deed. As to the fond fancy Which made to itself an idol and monarch of art, I well know how it was filled with error, For all that man desires below is error. My thoughts, which formerly delighted in what was harmful, What are they now that I approach a double death? The one is certain, and the other threatens me; Nor can painting or sculpture any longer satisfy the soul Which is turned to that Divine Love Which from the cross opened its arms to receive us. We think the examples we have cited are sufficient to sub- stantiate our claim for Michel Angelo to a rank among the gi~eat poets of the world. To dramatic or epic power he makes no pretension; but in the lofty and poetic expression of the highest thoughts, we must place these sonnets beside those of Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Milton, and the Vita Nuova of Dante. Besides his poems, Michel Angelo wrote a lecture on one of Petrarchs sonnets. He also commenced a treatise on Archi- tecture, and planned one on Human Motives, which he did not write. Condivi promised to compile a collection of Pre~epts of Art, by Michel Angelo; but he did not keep his word. In addition, we have several of his letters published by Yasari, and others, which are full of interest; and other letters still remain in manuscript in the possession of the family of Buo- narroti. It is hoped they will soon be made public. 28 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICITEL ANGELO. [July, The character of Michel Angelo, as portrayed by his biogra- phers and revealed in his own productions, is composed of the grandest elements of human nature. If we rank him second to any, it is only to those few heroes who, like Moses, Con- fucius, and Socrates, have influenced the moral destinies of whole nations. His intellect was at once broad, clear, pene- trating, and practical. His imagination was lofty and produc- tive. His will was bold, determined, and persevering. His moral ~character was equally great. In the midst of avarice and venality, he kept his integrity perfect. When, at the Popes request, the Duke of Urbino consented to a reduction of the number of statues for the monument of Julius, his reply was, that in this case he must be allowed to pay back a sum of money sufficient to cover the cost of the statues thus proposed to be subtracted. He immediately did so by depositing 1580 ducats to the credit of his Highness in the bank of the Strozzi. In a court where luxury and debauchery abounded, he observed the strictest temperance in all his habits. His diet was very simple, consisting mostly of bread and a little wine. When laboring on the Last Judgment, he contented himself, for the most part, with a single frugal repast at the close of the day. He slept little, and often rose in the dead of the night, to pursue his artistic labors. When employed in sculpture he would put on a paper cap, in front of which he placed a candle, that his hands might be free and yet the light be thrown upon the part where he wished to work. In an age when the sacred vows of the Church were but a screen for licentiousness, Michel Angelo lived chaste, and preserved the purity of his soul unspotted. His reverence for woman, and his respect for her purity, breathe through all his writings, and Condivi bears direct testimonyin this regard. He says I have often heard Miehel Angelo reason and discourse upon love, but never heard him speak otherwise than upon Platonic love. As for me, I am ignorant what Plato has said upon that subject, but this I know very well, that in a long intimacy I have never heard from his mouth a single word that was not most perfectly decorous, and had not for its object to extinguish in youth every improper and lawless desire, and that his own nature is a stranger to depravity. His stern self-respect laid him open to the charge of excessive 1859.] THE LIFE ANIY POEMS OF MICIJEL ANGELO. 29 pride and irritability. When Pope Julius II. suddenly and capriciously withdrew the favor which he had bestowed upon him, Michel Angelo at once retired to Florence, and, heeded neither command nor entreaty to return to Rome, until ample atonement was offered for the insult. But this pride was not for himself alone; he asserted the right of the artist against the insolence of office. The artist was not then honored as in the best days of Greece; and his own parents had considered art a calling unworthy of his rank and education. But he maintained that art was the noblest function of man, and he demanded that respect which he also knew how to render where it was due. That he was violent in his temper, and used stron~ language in moments of excitement, we cannot doubt, but we find no instance of meanness or low revenge. It is indeed related that he placed Biagio da Cesena, who had found fault with the nudity of the figures in the Last Judgment, among the demons; but it seems to have been regarded as a just punishment, for when Biagio appealed to the Pope to order the painter to erase his portrait, his Ho- liness replied, If lie had painted you in Purgatory there might have been some help for it, but there is no redemption out of Hell. When Torrigiano threw his mallet so violently that he broke the bridge of Michel Angelos nose, the latter proudly retorted, You will only be known hereafter as the man who broke my nose. The prophecy has proved almost literally true. He is accused of envy and jealousy towards his rivals in art; but although he was excited by the emulation of such men as Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Bramante, and Titian, we find words of generous praise from his mouth for every one of his great competitors. He greatly admired Titians color. Of the gates of the Baptistery designed by Ghiberti, he said, They are worthy to be the gates of Paradise; and he declared that his celebrated dome of St. Peters was not finer, but only larger, than Brunelleschis. He gladly availed himself of judicious and kindly criticism, but was quick to see through the pretensions of shallow ig- norance. A friend having remarked that his statue of a Faun, although representing an old man, had the teeth all 3* 30 THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. [July, sound and regular, Michel Angelo could hardly await the de- parture of his guest, so anxious was he to change his model in accQrdance with this just criticism. On the other hand, the Gonfaloniere Soderini one day, while standing directly be- low the statue of David, expressed himself delighted with it. There is, however, one slight defect, he added; the nose is rather too thick. Michel Angelo saw that it was impossi- ble for the worthy magistrate to judge correctly of this feature from his position; but knowing discussion to be useless, he slyly took up a little marble-dust in his hand, and, mounting the scaffold to the side of the statue, he affected to work on the nose with a file, letting the dust fall on the head of So- derini. How does it look now? he asked. I am per- fectly satisfied, said Soderini: you have actualy imparted life to it. Instances of this kind of humor are related, which show that he always understood the man he had to deal with. When the Pope requested him to adorn the garments of the Apostles with gold, They were poor men, your Reverence, wa~ his reply, and did not wear gold, a significant re- mark from a pupil of Savonarola to the luxurious successor of St. Peter. But while most writers do justice to these heroic qualities of the great artist, few dwell upon the tender feelings of his nature and the warm affections of his heart. The times of peril and conflict through which he passed, brought out into bold relief the stern qualities of his soul. Suffering and trial rendered him a reserved and lonely man. Ill health was his portion in youth, and in manhood political troubles made him an exile from his country, and left that country desolate. Lanzi says that the crown of Raphaels good fortune was his early death, which spared him the knowledge of those trou- bles which came so soon after; but Michel Angelo drank the cup of life to the dregs, and many a bitter drop was mingled in it. The lonely grandeur of a character whose very virtues separated him from those around him, a home without wife or child to cheer his heart, and a diseased frame, made him a sad and solitary man even in the midst of his artistic tri- umphs. To him may be applied the words of Scripture 1859.] THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MICHEL ANGELO. 31 It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence because he hath borne it upon him. But touching proofs of his affectionate heart are to be found in his relations to his brother artists, to his literary contem- poraries, to his noble friend Vittoria Colonna, to his nephew and his family, and especially to his servant Urbino. We cannot forbear inserting the whole of his letter on the death of this servant, which is very touching, from its simplicity, its sadness, and its tenderness. To VASARI. My DEAR GEORGE: I can hardly write, but I ~vill say something in reply to your letter. You know that Urbino is dead; which has been to me the greatest mercy from God, but it is to my heavy loss and infinite grief. The mercy is, that, while in life he kept me alive, in dying he has taught me how to die, not with dislike, but with desire of death. I have had him twenty-six years, and I have found him most rare and faithful; and now that I had made him rich, and that I expected him to be the staff and rest of my old age, he has gone; nor does any hope remain to me but to see him again in paradise. And of this God has given me a sign in the happy death which he has died, for much more~than dying did it grieve him to leave me in this deceitful world with so many troubles, although the greater part of me is gone with him, nor does there remain to me anything but an infinite sorrow. I am yours, M. B. After the death of Urbino, Michel Angelo continued his affectionate care of his widow and orphans, as we find by a letter to the widow still extant. To all other virtues Michel Angelo added the crowning grace of a sincere, unaffected, manly piety, or, rather, all his goodness sprang from this central root. We find little record of his theological opinions, save his admiration of the bold preaching of Savonarola. Many things in his life and writings partake of the tone of Protestantism; but that he never sev- ered himself from the communion of the Roman Church is evident from his devoting so many years to the building of St. Peters Church for the love of God. We find little allu- sion to the Church, or her peculiar doctrines, in his poems; 32 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, but the great truths of religion, the guardian care and love of God, the communion of the human soul with his spirit, the solemn responsibility of duty, and the glorious hope of immor- tality, are apparent on every page. These holy comforters sustained him through nearly ninety years of life, labor, and trial, and they gave a vitality to his whole being which makes him still a living presence to us, almost three hundred years after his weary body was laid in the grave. He died of a slow fever, February Pth, 1564. His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the greatest magnificence, the first artists of the time vying with one another to do him honor. His last will was in these simple words: I leave my soul to God, my body to the earth, and my property to my nearest relations. We owe Mr. Harford thanks for the two volumes which have suggested our theme; but we cannot feel that he has exhausted his subject. When the additional manuscripts lying among the archives of the Buonarroti family are made public, we trust some writer with a mind of broader scope, a richer imagination, and purer taste, will gather up the scattered materials, and weave them into a grand whole, which shall give us a true picture of the Life and Times of Michel Angelo. ART. II. Glossarium ]1$liedice et Infimee Latinitatis conditum a CAROLO DUFRESNE DOMINO DUCANGE, cum Supplementis Integris MONACHORUM ORDINIS S. BENEDICTI, D .P.CAR.- PENTERII, ADELUNGI, Aliorum, suisque digessit G. A. L. HENSUHEL. VII. Tomi. 4to. Parisiis. 1840 1850. No student of modern history can pronounce the name of Ducange without a feeling of affectionate veneration. The rare combination of qualities requisite to lexicography, patient industry, critical acumen, exhaustless learning, so seldom vouchsafed to a single individual, render those who succeed in perfecting their self-imposed and repellent tasks benefactors

32 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, but the great truths of religion, the guardian care and love of God, the communion of the human soul with his spirit, the solemn responsibility of duty, and the glorious hope of immor- tality, are apparent on every page. These holy comforters sustained him through nearly ninety years of life, labor, and trial, and they gave a vitality to his whole being which makes him still a living presence to us, almost three hundred years after his weary body was laid in the grave. He died of a slow fever, February Pth, 1564. His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the greatest magnificence, the first artists of the time vying with one another to do him honor. His last will was in these simple words: I leave my soul to God, my body to the earth, and my property to my nearest relations. We owe Mr. Harford thanks for the two volumes which have suggested our theme; but we cannot feel that he has exhausted his subject. When the additional manuscripts lying among the archives of the Buonarroti family are made public, we trust some writer with a mind of broader scope, a richer imagination, and purer taste, will gather up the scattered materials, and weave them into a grand whole, which shall give us a true picture of the Life and Times of Michel Angelo. ART. II. Glossarium ]1$liedice et Infimee Latinitatis conditum a CAROLO DUFRESNE DOMINO DUCANGE, cum Supplementis Integris MONACHORUM ORDINIS S. BENEDICTI, D .P.CAR.- PENTERII, ADELUNGI, Aliorum, suisque digessit G. A. L. HENSUHEL. VII. Tomi. 4to. Parisiis. 1840 1850. No student of modern history can pronounce the name of Ducange without a feeling of affectionate veneration. The rare combination of qualities requisite to lexicography, patient industry, critical acumen, exhaustless learning, so seldom vouchsafed to a single individual, render those who succeed in perfecting their self-imposed and repellent tasks benefactors 1859.J JUDICIAL ORDEALS. .33 of no common order. When, in addition to the ordinary diffi- culties surrounding such labor, the attempt is made in a new and almost unexplored province, which by its vast extent and intricate recesses seems beyond the capacity of one finite mind to grasp, success would appear hopeless, and even failure not undeserving of praise. Such was the endeavor of Ducange, and his generous self-confidence was not deceived; the fullest triumph crowned his gigantic labors, and the scholars of suc- ceeding ages look up to him as their master and their guide. A simple glossary of bastard Latin, a vocabulary of the bar- barous words whh~h had crept into the language used after the destruction of the Roman Empire, such is the modest form of his undertaking; but to accomplish it on his plan required him to present all the details of media~val life, civil and mili- tary, legal and political, commercial and ecclesiastical, techni- cal and artistic, public and domestic. Each word gives rise to an essay, in which the subject is examined on all sides with an exhaustive erudition that seems almost superhuman. Sparing of his own remarks, which are terse and to the point, he cites contemporary authorities with a profusion of research that leaves little to be asked for; while, by his skilful apposition and comparison of doubtful allusions, obscure points become clear, and that which before was inexplicable is brought within the domain of positive knowledge. In this Ducange had but little assistance to expect from his predecessors. The glos- - saries and notes appended by Lindenbruck, Pithou, Bignon, and others, to their editions of ancient laws and formuhe, had, it is true, assembled together a certain amount of material; the Glossary of Spelman, a more ambitious attempt, and highly creditable to that learned and accurate arckeologist, was more to the purpose, and contained the results of much curious and profitable research; but these were as nothing, in plan or in execution, to the vast conception of that enterprise which Ducange alone could dare and accomplish. In 1678, three folio volumes conveyed to the public this stupendous work, which was at once received with acclama- fion by the learned throughout Europe, and was acknowledged. as indispensable to the apparatus of all scholars. Diligent critics calculated that the number of extracts embodied in its 34 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, pages amounted to one hundred and forty thousand, derived from six thousand different sources, printed or manuscript; while the immense range of topics discussed was rendered manifest by forty-five indexes or catalogues of words, each representing a special class, for the benefit of those who might desire to follow up particular subjects throughout the work. The very assistance afforded by the Glossary to antiquarian studies contributed, however, in the course of time, to render it imperfect, and caused deficiencies to be felt which had not previously existed. The renewed zeal of the learned gave to the world vast masses of mediawal manuscripts, which had lain concealed in dark corners of provincial libraries and ecclesi- astical establishments, and the accumulation of fresh material rendered necessary an enlargement of the only work which could be referred to for its elucidation. A new edition was at length resolved on by the Benedictines, and when it appeared, in 1733 36, the original three volumes had expanded to six. This was no more a finality than its predecessor. The un- tiring efforts of Bouquet, S6cousse, Muratori, and their col- laborators, to say nothing of the never-ending labors of the Bollandists, continued to collect additional matter, and in 1766 a Supplement of four more folios was published by IJom Carpentier, who had assisted his brethren in the preparation of the second edition. This huge and overgrown bulk of course placed the rich treasury of erudition beyond the reach of ordinary students, and the whole speedily became scarce and high-priced, notwithstanding various reprints of the Bene- dictine edition in Switzerland and Italy. At length, in our own day, the Pidots of Paris, with a liberality more nearly allied to the professional pride of the early printers than to the practical money-making ideas of the present age, under- took to reconstruct this magnificent monument of their coun- trys learning, and the result is before us. By the resources of modern typography, seven royal quarto volumes, with more than six thousand triple-columned pages, present the con- tents of the ten folios of the last century, augmented by much valuable matter. M. Hensehel, the editor, has not only incorporated throughout the Supplement of Dom Carpentier, but, from the labors of Adelung, ilaltaus, and other German 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 35 lexicographers, together with his own researches, he has also remedied to a considerable extent the deficiencies formerly existing with respect to the Teutonic writers and history. Prodigally as Ducange lavished his intellectual wealth on this immense repository, we must not imagine that it ex- hausted his resources. A similar key was required to the Greek authors of the Lower Empire, and this, long vainly desired by scholars, was supplied by him in two folios, over- flowing with the same abundant learning. Other works, illus- trative of Byzantine and French history, any one of which would be sufficient to establish an ordinary reputation, were given to the public with equal facility; and the piles of manuscripts left behind him show that these were for him only the prolegoniena of designs yet more vast and com- prehensive. These labors, which, without exaggeration, may well be termed gigantic, were accomplished by steady and unremitting application. During a long life, fourteen hours a day were allotted regularly to study, and he yet found time for the domestic duties of a husband and father, and for the faithful performance of the functions of a public office. So intense was his mental activity, that his marriage-day only found him willing to reduce his allowance to six or seven hours. Looking round at the learned of our own day, and marking their skill in beating out their intellectual minimum of gold, we feel abashed in presence of the simple and single- minded scholar, with his unfathomable erudition. If History be indeed Philosophy teaching by example, then her text should not be merely the scandalous intrigues of a court, or the desolating achievements of an army. The inner life of the people affords the most instructive lessons, and he who would attempt to study or to teach, must seek to penetrate into these recesses. The fact which to the mere chronicler is a result, to him should be only material which, in combination with other facts, may enable him to deduce a principle. It is from this consideration that the work before us derives its special and incomparable importance. Scattered amid masses of documents, printed and manuscript, accessible to few inquirers, lie the treasures from which the history of Europe and of modern civilization is yet to be constructed. Careless allusions to forgotten customs, hints of matters ~which 36 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, the contemporary annalist or scrivener takes for granted, when rightly understood, often throw a flood of light on the character and manners of a period; and yet who, aspiring to more than the simple collection of materials, can undertake the hopeless task of traversing public libraries, or of penetrat- ing carefully guarded archives, guided only by the instinct that there must be something lying concealed, yet scarcely knowing what to look for, and happy if he recognize it when found~? Such efforts necessarily circumscribe the sphere of research to the narrowest possible bounds, and no enlarged results can be deduced from them. Even should the student be fortunate enough to have at his command the interminable bulk which has already been committed to print, the span of a single life is barely sufficient for the examination of his materials. To such investigations the assistance of Ducange is inestimable; not that he snpplies all we may want, but that, used merely as an index, his work spares us endless, useless labor, by guiding us to the fields which yield the fullest return, while from his own inexhaustible stores he does much to make good our deficiencies. In the following attempt to group together some of the peculiarities of human progress as developed in the institution of the ORDEAL, we pay the best practical tribute to the utility of this opus mag- ~num. The frequency of our citations will show the assistance derived from its richly stored pages. It is only in an age of high and refined mental culture that man, unassisted by direct inspiration, can entertain an adequate conception of the Supreme Being. An Omnipotence that can work out its destined ends, and yet allow its mortal creatures free scope to mould their own fragmentary portions of the great whole; a Power so infinitely great that its good- ness, mercy, and justice are compatible with the existence of evil in the world which it has formed, so that man has full liberty to obey the dictates of his baser passions, without being released from responsibility, and, at the same time, without disturbing the preordained results of Divine wisdom and beneficence, these are not the ideas which prevail in the formative periods of society. Accordingly, in the ear- lier epochs of almost all races, a belief in a Divine Being is 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 37 accompanied with the expectation that special manifestations of power will be made on all occasions, and that the interposi- tion of Providence may be had for the asking, whenever man, in the pride of his littleness, condescends to waive his own judgment, and undertakes to test the inscrutable ways of his Creator by the touchstone of his own limited reason. Thus miracles come to be expected as matters of every-day occur- rence, and the laws of nature are to be suspended whenever man chooses to tempt his God with the promise of right and the threat of injustice to be committed in His name. To these elements of the human mind is attributable the almost universal adoption of the so-called Judgment of God, by which men, oppressed with doubt, have essayed in all ages to relieve themselves from responsibility by calling in the assistance of Heaven. Nor, in so doing, have they seemed to appreciate the self-exaltation implied in the act itself, but, in all humility, have cast themselves and their sorrows at the feet of the Great Judge, making a merit of abnegating the reason which, however limited, has been bestowed to be used and not rejected. In the Carlovingian Capitularies there occurs a passage, dictated doubtless by the spirit of genuine trust in God, which well expresses the pious senti- ments presiding over acts of the grossest practical impiety. Let doubtful cases be determined by the judgment of God. The judges may decide that which they clearly know, but that which they cannot know shall be reserved for Divine judg- ment. Whom God hath kept for his own judgment may not be condemned by human means. Therefore judge ndthing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts. ~ * (1 Cor. iv. 5.) With but one exception, the earliest records of the human race bear witness to the existence of i~he superstition thus dignified with the forms of Christian faith, and this excep * In ambignis, Dci jndicio reservetur sententia. Quod certe agnoscunt sno, quod nesciunt divino reservent judicio. Quoniam non potest humano condemnari examine quem Dens suo jndicio reservavit. Incerta namqne non debemus judicare quoadnsqne veniat Dominus, qni latentia producet in lucem, et inluminabit abseon- dita tenebrarum, Ct manifestabit consilia cordium. Capit. Lib. VII. cap. 259. VOL. LxXXIX. NO. 184. 4 38 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, tion, as might be anticipated, is furnished by China. Her strange civilization presents itself, in the Sacred Books col- lected by Confucius five hundred years before the Christian era, in nearly the same form as it exists to this day, guided by a religion destitute of life, and consisting of a system of cold morality, which avoids the virtues as well as the errors of more imaginative and generous faith. In the most re- vered and authoritative of the Chinese scriptures, the Chou- King, or Holy Book, of which the origin is lost in fabulous antiquity, we find a theo-philosophy recognizing a Supreme Power (Tai-Ki) or Heaven, which is pure reason, or the em- bodiment of the laws and forces of Nature, acting under the pressure of blind destiny. Trace back the Chinese belief as far as we may, we cannot get behind this refined and philo- sophical scepticism. The flowery kingdom starts from the night of Chaos intellectually full-grown, like Minerva, and from first to last there is no semblance of a creed which would admit of the direct practical intervention of a higher power. The fullest admission which this prudent reserve will allow is expressed by the legislator Mou-Vang (about 1000 B. C.) in his instructions to his judges in criminal cases: Say not that Heaven is unjust, it is that man brings these evils on himself. If it were not that Heaven inflicts these severe pun- ishments, the world would be ungoverned. * In the mod- ern penal code of China there is accordingly no allusion to evidence other than that of witnesses, and even oaths are neither required nor admitted in judicial proceedings.j- When we turn, however, to the other great source of Asi- atic jurisprudence, whose fantastic intricacy forms so strange a contrast to the coeval sober realism of China, we find in the Laws of Menou abundant proof of our general proposi- tion. There is no work of the human intellect which offers so curious a field of speculation to the student of human nature; none in which the transitions are so abrupt, or the contradictions so startling, between the most sublime doc- trines of spiritual morality, and the grossest forms of puerile * Chou-King, Part IV. chap. 27, 21 (after Goubils translation). t Staunton, Penal Code of China, p. 364. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 39 superstition, the most elevated precepts of universal jus- tice, and the foulest partiality in specific cases. Its very com- plexity reveals a highly civilized state of society, and the customs and observances which it embodies are evidently not innovations on an established order of things, but merely a compilation of regulations and procedures established through previous ages, whose origin is lost in the trackless depths of remote antiquity. When, therefore, we see in the Hindoo code the same strange and unnatural forms of purgation which two thousand years later * greet us on the threshold of Euro- pean civilization, adorned but not concealed by a thin veil of Christianized superstition, the coincidence seems more than accidental. That the same principle should be at work in each, we can account for by the general tendencies of the human mind; but that this principle should manifest itself under the same remarkable shapes in races so far removed by time and space, seems to hint at special affinities of origin, perplexing and impenetrable, and as yet but darkly guessed at by modern ethnologists. In the following texts, the princi- pal forms of Ordeal prescribed are precisely similar to the most popular of the mediaival judgments of God Or, according to the nature of the case, let the judge cause him who is under trial to take fire in his hand, or to plunge in water, or to touch separately the heads of his children and of his wife. Whom the flame burneth not, whom the water rejects not from its depths, whom misfortune overtakes not speedily, his oath shall be received as undoubted. When the Richi Vatsa was accused by his young half-brother, who stigmatized him as the son of ~ So~dra, he sware that it was false, and passing through fire proved the truth of his oath: the fire, which attests the guilt and the innocence of all men, harmed not a hair of his head, for he spake the truth. I That this was not merely a theoretical injunction is shown by a subsequent provision (Book VIII. v. 190), enjoining the ordeal on both plaintiff and defendant, even in certain civil * Sir William Jones places the composition of the Laws of Menou about 880 B. C. More recent investigators, however, have arrived at the conclusion, that they are anterior to the Christian era by at least thirteen centuries. t Laws of Menon, Book VIII. v. 114 116 (after Delongchamps translation). 40 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, cases. From the immutable character of Eastern institutions, we need not be surprised to see the custom flourishing in India to the present day, and to find that, in the popular estimation, the guilt or innocence of the accused is to be tested by his ability to carry red-hot iron, to phnge his arm unhurt in boiling oil, to pass through fire, to remain under water, to swallow consecrated rice, to drink water in which an idol has been immersed, to maintain his normal weight when a paper on which the accusation is written has been addded to the scale, or to choose between an image of silver and one of lead, all forms which still preserve their hold on public veneration,* as many of them did within five or six centuries among our own forefathers. The numerous points of resemblance existing between the Indian and Egyptian civilizations, which render it probable that the one was derived from the other, lead us also to pre- sume that these superstitions were common to both races. Detailed evidence, such as we possess in the case of Hindos- tan is, however, not to be expected with regard to Egypt, of which the literature has so utterly perished; but an incident related by Herodotus shows us that the same belief existed in the land of the Pharaohs, in at least one form, and that in judicial proceedings an appeal was habitually made to some deity, whose response had all the weight of a legal judgment, a direct interposition of the divinity being expected as a matter of course by all parties. King Amasis, whose reign immediately preceded the invasion of Cambyses, is said to have been, even when a private person, fond of drink- ing and jesting, and by no means inclined to serious business; and when the means failed him for the indulgence of his appe- tites, he used to go about pilfering. Such persons as accused him of having their property, on his denying it, used to take him to the oracle of the place, and he was oftentimes con- victed by the oracles, and oftentimes acquitted. When, therefore, he had come to the throne, he acted as follows: Whatever gods had absolved him from the charge of theft, of their temples he neither took any heed, nor contributed * Hastings, Asiatic Researches (K6nigswarter). 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 41 anything toward their repair; neither did he frequent them nor offer sacrifices, considering them of no consequence at all, and as having only lying responses to give. But as many as had convicted him of the charge of theft, to them he paid the highest respect, considering them as truly gods, and delivering authentic responses.~~ * A passing allusion only is necessary to the instances, which will readily occur to the Biblical student, in the Hebrew leg- islation and history. The bitter water by which conjugal infidelity was revealed (Numbers v. 1131), was an ordeal pure and simple, as were likewise the special cases of deter- mining criminals by lot, such as that of Achan (Joshua vii. 1618) and of Jonathan (1 Samuel xiv. 41, 42), prece- dents which were duly put forward by the monkish defend- ers of the practice, when battling against the efforts of the Papacy to abolish it. Looking to the farthest East, we find the belief in full force in Japan. Fire is there considered, as in India, to be the touchstone of innocence,j and other superstitions, less digni- fied and more puerile, have equal currency. The goc, a paper inscribed with certain cabalistic, characters, and rolled up into a bolus, when swallowed by an accused person, is believed to afford him no internal rest, if guilty, until he is relieved by confession, and a beverage of water in which the goo has been soaked is attended with like happy effects. ~ The immobility of Japanese customs authorizes us to con- clude that these practices have been observed from time immemorial. * Euterpe, 174 (Garys translation). t Kiinigswarter, fttudes Historiques sur le Th~veloppement de la Sockit~ Ru- maine, p. 203. ~ Collin de Plancy, Dictionnaire Infernal, pp. 255 and 305. 4 The preservation of the status in quo is amply provided for in Japan. Any functionary of the government, however exalted, who attempts an innovation, is forthwith reported to head-quarters and capitally sentenced. Even in the supreme council, a member who proposes an alteration in the existing state of affairs loses his life if it is not adopted; while, on the other hand, the Ziogoon or Emperor is put to death if he rejects such an alteration after it has passed the council, on its rejection being disapproved by an interior committee, consisting of his relatives. If his action be sustained by this committee, then all who voted for the unsuccessful measure in the supreme council are liable to the same fate. (Perrys Japan Expe- 4* 42 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, In Pegu the same ordeals are employed as in India, and Java and Malacca are equally well supplied.* Thibetan jus- flee has a custom of its own, which is literally evenThanded, and which, if generally used, must exert a powerful influ- ence in repressing litigation. Both plaintiff and defendant thrust their arms into a caldron of boiling water containing a black and a white stone, victory being assigned to the one who succeeds in obtaining the white.t Among the crowd of fantastic legends concerning Zoroas- ter is one which, from its resemblance to the ordeal of fire, may be regarded as indicating a tendency to the same form of superstition among the Guebres. They relate that, when an infant, he was seized by the magicians, who predicted his future supremacy over them, and was thrown upon a blazing fire. The pure element refused to perform its office, and was changed into a bath of rose-water for the wonderful child. ~ To some extent the Moslems are an exception to the gen- eral rule; and this may be attributed to the doctrine of pre- destination which forms the basis of their creed, as well as to the elevated ideas of the Supreme Being which Mahomet drew from the Bible, and which are so greatly in advance of all the Pagan forms of belief. There is accordingly no au- thority in the Koran for any description of ordeal; but yet it is occasionally found among the true believers. Among some tribes of Arabs, for instance, the ordeal of red-hot iron appears in the shape of a gigantic spoon, to which, when duly heated, the accused applies his tongue, his guilt or innocence being apparent from his undergoing or escaping injury. The tendency of the mind towards superstitions of this nature, in spite of the opposite teaching of religious dogmas, is likewise shown by a species of divination employed among the Turks, by which thieves are discovered by observing the marks on dition, I. 16, 17.) Under these regulations, existing institutions may be regarded as almost imperishable. It is quite possible that the recent han-/can, or suicide, of the late Emperor, may be attributable to the innovation of permitting foreign in- trusion. * K6nigswarter, op. cit. p. 202. ~ Collin de Plancy, op. cit. p. 555. t Duclos, M~im. sur les Epreuves. 4 K6nigswarter, op. cit. p. 203. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 43 wax slowly melted while certain cabalistic sentences are re- peated over it. * The gross and clumsy superstitions of Africa have this element in common with the more refined religions of other races, modified only in its externals. Thus among the Kala- barese various ordeals are in use, of a character which reveals the rude nature of the savage. The afia-edet-ibom is administered with the curved fang of a snake, which is cun- ningly inserted under the lid and round the ball of the defendants eye; if innocent, he is expected to eject it by rolling the eye, while, if unable to perform this feat, it is removed with a leopards tooth, and he is condemned. The ceremony of the afia-ibnot-idiok is even more childish. A white and a black line are drawn on the skull of a chim- panzee, which is then held up before the accused, when an apparent attraction of the white line towards him indicates his innocence, or an inclination of the black towards him pronounces his guilt. The use of the ordeal-nut is more formidable, as it contains an active principle which is a deadly poison, manifesting its effects by frothing at the mouth, con- vulsions, paralysis, and speedy death. In capital cases, or even when sickness is attributed to unfriendly machinations, the abiadiong or sorcerer decides who shall undergo the trial, and as the poisonous properties of the nut can be elimi- nated by boiling, liberality on the part of the accused is supposed to be an unfailing mode of rendering the ordeal harmless4 Although the classical nations of antiquity were not in the habit of employing ordeals as a judicial process, during the periods in which their laws have become known to us, still there is sufficient evidence that a belief in their efficacy ex- isted before philosophical scepticism had reduced religion to a system of hollow observances. The various modes of divina- tion by oracles and omens, which occupy so prominent a position in history, manifest a kindred tendency of mind, in demanding of the gods a continual interference in human * Collin de Plancy, s. v. C~romancie. t Hutchinsons Impressions of Western Africa. London. 1858. 44 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, affairs, at the call of any suppliant, and we are therefore pre- pared to recognize, among the Greeks, the relics of pre- existing judicial ordeals in various forms of solemn oaths, by which, under impressive ceremonies, actions were occasionally terminated, the party swearing being obliged to take the oath on the heads of his children (,cara z-c~v ,rat& ov), with curses on himself and his family (,car e~wXEta~), or passing through fire (& ~ roi3 7rvpJ~) .~ The secret meaning of these rites becomes fully elucidated on comparing them with a passage from the Antigone of Sophocles, in which, the body of Poly- nices having been secretly carried off for burial against the commands of Creon, the guard endeavor to repel the accu- sation of complicity by offering to vindicate their innocence in various forms of ordeal, which bear a striking similarity to those in use throughout India, and long afterwards in mediteval Europe. Ready with hands to bear the red-hot iron, To pass through fire, and by the gods to swear, That we nor did the deed, nor do we know Who counselled it, nor who performed it. t The water ordeal, which is not alluded to here, may never- theless be considered as having its prototype in several foun- tains, which were held to possess special power in cases of suspected female virtue. One at Artecomium, mentioned by Eustathius, became turbid as soon as entered by a guilty woman. Another near Ephesus, alluded to by Achilles Tatius, was even more miraculous. The accused swore to her inno- cence, and entered the water, bearing suspended to her neck a tablet inscribed with the oath. If she were innocent, the water remained stationary, at the depth of the midleg; while if she were guilty, it rose until the tablet floated. Somewhat similar to this was the Lake of Palica in Sicily, commemorated by Stephanus Byzantinus, where the party inscribed his oath on * Smith, Dict. Greek and Roman Antiq., s. v. Martyria. 7)/LU ~ ETOL/LOL KaL /.LvapoV~ (L4)ELV XEpOLY, xa& ri-vp ~& Ep7TELV, KaL 6EOVS~ OpKCa)/.LOTELV, TO /L7)TE ~palTaL, /.L7)TE TO~~ ~vvEL~EvaL TO ri-pay/La I3ovXEvoaurL, pi~r eipyaoj4icp. Antigone, ver. 264 267. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 45 a tablet, and committed it to the water, when, if the oath were true, it floated, and if false, it sunk.* The Roman nature, sterner and less impressible than the Greek, offers less evidence of weakness in this respect; but traces of it are nevertheless to be found. The medialval corsnced, or ordeal of bread, finds a prototype in a species of alphitomancy practised near Lavinium, where a sacred serpent was kept in a cave under priestly care. Women whose virtue was impeached offered to the animal cakes made by them- selves, of barley and honey, and were condemned or acquitted according as the cakes were eaten or rejected.~ The fabled powers of the cetites, or eagle-stone, mentioned by Dioscorides4 likewise remind us of the corsnwd, as bread in which it was placed, or food with which it was cooked, became a sure test for thieves, from their being unable to swallow it. Special instances of miraculous interposition to save the innocent from unjust condemnation may also be quoted as manifesting the same general tendency of belief. Such was the case of the vestal Tucca, accused of incest, who demonstrated her purity by carrying water in a sieve, and that of Claudia Quinta, who, under a similar charge, made good her defence by dragging a ship against the current of the Tiber, after it had run aground, and had resisted all other efforts to move it. II As somewhat connected with the same ideas, we may * Enstathil de Amor. Ismenji, Lib. Vii. and XI.; Achill. Tatii de Amor. Clitoph. Lib. VIII.; Steph. Byzant. 5. v. flcAua~ (apud Spelman, Gloss. p. 324). Superstitions of this nature have obtained in all ages, and these particular instances find their special modern counterpart in the fountain of Bodilis, near Landivisiau in Brittany, in which a girl when accused places the pin of her collar, her innocence or guilt being demonstrated by its floating or sinking. t Collin de Plancy, op. cit. p. 31. ~ Lih. V. cap. 161 (ap. Lindenbrog.). Valer. Maxim. Lib. VIII. cap. 1. Supplicis, alma, tu~n, genetrix fa~cunda Deorum, Accipe sub certa conditione preces. Casta negor; si tu damnas, meruisse fatebor. Morte luam pcenas, judice victa Dea. Sed si crimen abest, tu nostr~ pignora vita~ Re dabis; et castas casta sequere manus, Dixit, et exiguo funem conamine traxit, etc. Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. IV. 1. 305, et seq. This invocation to the goddess to absolve or condemn, and the manner in which 46 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, allude to the imprecations accompanying the most solemn form of oath among the Romans, known as Jovem lapidem jurare ( quod sanctissimum jusjurandum est habitum, Aulus Gellius, I. 21), whether we take the ceremony, men- tioned by Festus, of casting a stone from the hand, and in- voking Jupiter to reject in like manner the swearer if guilty of perjury, or that described by Livy as preceding the combat between the lloratii and Curiatii, in which an animal was knocked on the head with a stone, under a somewhat similar adjuration.* In turning to the Barbarian races from whom the nations of modern Europe are descended, we are met by the question, which has been variously mooted, whether the ordeals that form so prominent a part of their jurisprudence were cus- toms derived from remote Pagan antiquity, or whether they were inventions of the priests in the early periods of rude Christianity, to enhance their own authority, and to lead their reluctant flocks to peace and order under the influence of superstition. There would seem to us no doubt that the former is the correct opinion, and that the religious cere- monies surrounding the ordeal as we find it judicially em- ployed, were introduced by the Church to Christianize the Pagan observances, which in this instance, as in so many others, it was judged impolitic, if not impossible, to eradicate. Various traces of such institutions are faintly discernible in the darkness from which the wild tribes emerge into the twilight of history. Thus an anonymous epigram preserved in the Greek Anthology informs us of a singular custom existing in the Rhine-land, anterior to the conversion of the inhabitants, by which the legitimacy of children was estab- lished by exposure to an ordeal of the purest chance. the entire responsibility is thrown upon the supernal judge, give the whole transac- tion a striking resemblance to an established judicial form of ordeal. * Si sciens fallo, turn me Diespiter salva urbe arceque bonis ejiciat, ut ego hunc lapidem. Festus, Lib. X.; Livy, I. 24. If we can receive as undoubted Livys account of a similar ceremony performed by Hannibal to encourage his soldiers before the battle of the Ticinus (Lib. XXI. cap. 45), we must conclude that the custom had obtained a very extended influence. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 47 eap~-aX~oc KEXTOI lroTa,ucji ~~ovL Pi~v~, K. r. XA~ Upon the waters of the jealous Rhine The savage Celts their children cast, nor own Themselves as fathers, till the power divine Of the chaste river shall the truth make known. Scarce breathed its first faint cry, the husband tears Away the new-born babe, and to the wave Commits it on his shield, nor for it cares Till the wife-judging stream the infant save, And prove himself the sire. All trembling lies The mother, racked with anguish, knowing well The truth, but forced to risk her cherished prize On the inconstant waters reckless swell. We learn from Cassiodorus that Theodoric, towards the close of the fifth century, abolished the battle ordeal among the Ostrogoths, whence we may reasonably conclude that the appeal to the judgment of God was an ancestral custom of the race 4 But the most convincing proof is found in the Salique Law, of which the earliest known text may safely be assumed to be coeval with the conversion of Clovis, as it contains no allusion to Christian rules such as appear in revisions made somewhat later. In this text, the ordeal of boiling water finds its place as a judicial process in regular use, as fully as in the subsequent revisions of the code.f In the Decree of Tassilo, Duke of the Baioarians, issued in 772, there is a reference to a pre-existing custom, named Stapfsaken, used in cases of dis- puted debt, which is denounced as a relic of Pagan rites, in verbis quibus ex vetusta consuetudine paganorum, idolatriam reperimus, and which is there alteTed to suit the new order of ideas, affording an instructive example of the process to which we have alluded. It is evidently a kind of ordeal, as is manifested by the expression, Let us stretch forth our right * Anthologi~, Lib. IX. Ep. 125. This charming trait of Celtic domestic con- fidence has been called in question by some writers, but it rests on good authority. Claudian evidently alludes to it as a well-known and undisputed fact in the lines, Galli Quos Rhodanus velox, Araris quos tardior ambit, Et quos nascentes explorat gurgite Rhenus. In Rufinum, Lib. II. 1. 110. t Variarum, Lib. III Epist. 23, 24. ~ Tit. LIII., LVI. (First Text of Pardessus.) 48 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, hands to the just judgment of God. * These proofs we deem amply sufficient to demonstrate the existence of the practice as a~ primitive custom of the Barbarian races, prior to their occupation of the Roman empire. If more be required, it must be remembered that the records of those wild tribes do not extend beyond the period of their permanent settlement, when baptism and civilization were received together, so that we cannot reasonably ask for codes and annals at a time when each sept was rather a tumultuous horde of freebooters than a people living under a settled form of organized society. Tacitus, it is true, makes no mention of anything approach- ing nearer to the Judgment of God than the various forms of rude divination common to all superstitious savages. It is highly probable that to many tribes the ordeal was unknown, and that it had nowhere assumed the authority which it after- wards acquired, when the Church found in it a powerful instrument to enforce her authority, and to acquire influence over the rugged nature of her indocile converts. Indeed, we have evidence that in some cases it was introduced, and its employment enforced, for the purpose of eradicating earlier Pagan observances.f Be this as it may, the custom was not long in extending itself throughout Europe. The laws of the Salien Franks we have already alluded to, and the annals of Gregory of Tours and of Fredegarius, the Merovingian Capitularies, and the various collections of Formularies, show that it was not merely a theoretical prescription, but an every-day practice among them. The IRipuarian Franks were somewhat more cautious, and the few references to its employment which occur in their code would seem to confine its application to slaves and strangers4- The code of the Alamanni makes no allusion to any form except that of the tracta spata, or judicial duel. The Lex Baioariorum, in its original form, * Extendamus dextera nostra ad justum judicium Dci. Decret. Tassilonis, Tit. II. ~ 7. t Et vetavit Comes ne Sciavi de cetero jurarent in arboribus, fontibus, et lapidi- bus; sed offerrent criminibus pulsatos sacerdoti, ferro ac vomeribus examinandos. Anon. Chron. Sciavic. Cap. XXV. (Ducange.) ~ L. Ripuar. Tit. XXX. ~ 1, 2; Tit. XXXI. 5. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 49 while referring constantly to the combat, seems innocent of any other mode. The supplementary Decree of Tassilo, how- ever, affords an instance, quoted above, and another which seems to show that force was sometimes necessary to carry out the decision to employ it.* The Wisigoths, who, like their kinsmen the Ostrogoths, immediately on their settle- ment adapted themselves in a great degree to Roman laws and customs, for nearly two centuries had no allusion in their body of laws to any form of ordeal. It was not until 693, long after the destruction of their independence in the South of France, and but little prior to their overthrow in Spain by the Saracens, that their king, Egiza, with the sanction of the Council of Toledo, issued an edict commanding the employ- ment of the a~neum, or ordeal of boiling water. The ex- pressions of the law, however, warrant the conclusion, that this was only the extension of a custom previously existing, by removing the restrictions which had prevented its applica- tion to all questions, irrespective of their importance.j- The Burgundian code refers more particularly to the duel, which was the favorite form of ordeal with that race, but from. the writings of St. Agobard we may safely assume that the trials by hot water and by iron were in frequent use. The primi- tive Saxon jurisprudence also prefers the battle ordeal; but the other kinds are met with in the codes of the Frisians * and of the Thuringians. The earliest Lombard law, as com- piled by Rotharis, refers only to the wager of battle; but the additions of Liutprand, made in the eighth century, allude to the employment of the hot-water ordeal as a recognized pro-. cedure. II In England, the Britons appear to have regarded the ordeal with much favor, as a treaty between the Welsh * Ut liberi ad eadem cogantur judicia qu~ Baioarii Urtdla dicunt. Decret. Tassilon. Tit. II. ~ 9. t Multas cognovimus querelas, et ab ingenuis multa main pati, crcdentes in ccc. solidis qunstionem agitari. Quod nos modo per salubrem ordinationem cease- mus, ut quamvis parva sit actio rei facti ab aliquo criminis, cum per examinatio. acm aqmu f~rveatis a judice distringendum ordinamus. L. Wisigoth. Lib. VI. Tit. I. ~ 3. ~ L. Frision. Tit. III ~ 4, 5, 6. L. Anglior. et Werinor. Tit. XIV. II L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. XXXIII. ~ 1. VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 5 50 JUDIQIAL ORDEALS. [July, and the Saxons (about the year 1000) provides that all ques- tions between individuals of the two races should be settled in this manner, in the absence of a special agreement between the parties.* The Anglo-Saxons seem to have been somewhat late in adopting it; for the Dooms of the earlier princes refer exclusively to the refutation of accusations by oath with com- purgators, and we find no allusion made to the ordeal until the time of Edward the Elder, at the commencement of the tenth century, that allusion, however, being of a nature to show that it was then a settled custom, and not an innova- tion.f Among the Northern races it was probably indige- nous, the earliest records of Iceland, Denmark, and Sweden manifesting its vigorous existence, at a period anterior to their conversion to Christianity; and the same may be said of the Sclavonic tribes in Eastern Europe, from Bohemia to the far- thest confines of iRussia.f The Majjars placed equal reliance on this mode of proof, as is shown by the Statutes of King Coloman (about the year 1100), which allude to various forms of ordeal as in common use. Scotland likewise employed it in her jurisprudence, as developed in the code known as Regium Majestatem Scotite, attributed to David I., in the first half of the twelfth century. Even the Byzantine civil- ization became contaminated with the prevailing custom, and various instances of its use are related by the historians of the Lower Empire, to a period as late as the middle of the four- teenth century. One cause of the general prevalence of the ordeal among the Barbarian tribes settled in the Roman provinces may per- haps have arisen from the custom, which prevailed universally, of allowing all races to retain their own jurisprudence, how- Non sit aim lada (i. e. purgatio) de tyhia (i. e. compellatione) nisi ordalium, inter Walos Ct Anglos. Senatus-Consult. de Monticolis Wa1ia~, Cap. II. Our references to Anglo-Saxon laws are made to Thorpes excellent collection, Ancient Laws and Institutes of England, 2 vols., Svo, London, 1840. I Dooms of King Edward, Cap. III.; Laws of Edward and Guthrnm, Cap. IX. ~ K6nigswarter, op. cit. pp. 211, 224. Judicium fern et aqn~ in aliqna ecelesia fieri indicimus. Lib. I. (Du- cange, s. v. Aquce Frigidce.) II For instance, Lib. IV. Cap. III. ~ 4. (Ducange.) 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 51 ever socially intermingled the individuals might be. The con- fusion thus produced is well set forth by St. Agobard, when he remarks that frequently five men shall be in close com- panionship, each owning obedience to a different law.* He further states, that, under the Burgundian rules of procedure, no one was admitted to bear witness against a man of different race ; j- so that in a large proportion of cases there could be no legal evidence attainable, and recourse was had of necessity to the judgment of God. No doubt a similar tendency existed generally, and the man who appealed to Heaven against the positive testimony of witnesses of different origin, would be very apt to find the court disposed to grant his request. Having thus indicated the universality of the custom throughout Europe, we proceed to cQnsider the various forms which were chiefly used. In this we shall take no notice of the wager of battle, though perhaps the most important of all in its widely extended jurisdiction, its early appearance, and its late abolition. A detailed account of it in a late number of this journal (No. CLXXXII., for January, 1859), renders further allusion to it inappropriate, except so far as may be necessary to illustrate the common principle upon which all were based. The principal modes by which the will of Heaven was ascer- tained were the ordeal of fire, whether administered directly, or through the agency of boiling water or red-hot iron; that of cold water; of bread or cheese; of the Eucharist; of the cross; the lot; and the touching of the body of the victim in cases of murder. Some of these, it will be seen, required a miraculous interposition to save the accused, others to con- demn; some depended altogether on volition, others on the purest chance; while others, again, derived their power from the influence exerted on the mind of the patient. They were all accompanied with solemn religious observances, and the most impressive ceremonies of the Church were lavishly * Kam plerunque contingit ut simul eant nut sedeant quinque homines, et nullus eorum communem legem cum altero habeat. Lib. ady. Legem Gundobadi, Cap. IV. t Ex qua re oritur res valde absurda, ut si aliquis eorum in cutu populi, aut etiam in mercato publico commiserat aliquarn pravitatem, non coarguatur testibus. Ibid. Cap. VI. 52 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, employed to give authority to the resultant decisions, and to impress on the minds of all the directness of the interpo- sition which was expected from the Creator. The ordeal of boiling water (ai?neum, judiciurn aquce fer- ventis, cacabus, caldaria) is probably the oldest form in which the application of fire was judicially administered in Europe as a mode of proof. It is the one usually referred to in the most ancient texts of laws, and its universal adop- tion denotes a very high antiquity. A caldron of water was brought to the boiling point, and the accused was obliged with his naked hand to find a small stone or ring thrown into it; sometimes the latter portion was omitted, and the hand was simply inserted, in trivial cases to the wrist, in crimes of magnitude to the elbow, the former being termed the single, the latter the triple ordeal ; * or, again, the stone was employed, suspended by a string, and the severity of the trial was regulated by the length of the line, a palms breadth being counted as single, and the distance to the el- bow as triple.t A good example of the process, in all its details, is furnished us by Gregory of Tours, ~ who relates that, an Arian priest and a Catholic deacon disputing about their respective tenets, and being unable to convince each other, the latter proposed to refer the subject to the decision of the ceneum, and the offer was accepted. Next morning the deacons enthusiasm cooled, and he mingled his matins with precautions of a less spiritual nature, by bathing his arm in oil, and anointing it with protective unguents. The popu- lace assembled to witness the exhibition, the fire was lighted, the caldron boiled furiously, and a little ring thrown into it was whirled round like a straw in a tornado, when the dea- con politely invited his adversary to make the trial first. This was declined, on the ground that precedence belonged to the challenger, and with no little misgiving the deacon proceeded to roll up his sleeve, when the Arian, observing the precautions that had been taken, exclaimed that he had been using magic arts, and that the trial would amount to * Dooms of King ~the1stan, IV. cap. 7. t Adj~iratio fern vel aqme ferventis (Baluze, II. 655). ~ De Gloria Martyrum, Lib. I. cap. 51 (Eccardus). 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 53 nothing. At this critical juncture, when the honor of the orthodox faith was trembling in the balance, a stranger stepped forward, a Catholic priest named Jacintus, from Ravenna, and offered to undergo the experiment. Plun- ging his arm into the bubbling caldron, he was two hours in capturing the ring, which eluded his grasp in its fantastic gyrations; but finally, holding it up in triumph to the ad- miring spectators, he declared that the water felt cold at the bottom, with an agreeable warmth at the top. Fired by the example, the unhappy Arian boldly thrust his arm into the water; but the falseness of his cause belied ~the confidence of its .rash supporter, and in a moment the flesh was boiled off the bones up to the elbow. Injectu mann, protinus usque ad ipsa ossium internodia caro liquefacta defiuxit. This was a volunteer experiment. As a means of judicial investigation, the process was surrounded with all the solem- nity which the most venerated rites of the Church could impart. Fasting and prayer were enjoined for three days previous, and the ceremony commenced with special prayers and adjurations, introduced for the purpose into the litany, and recited by the officiating priests; mass was celebrated, and the accused was required to partake of the sacrament under the fearful adjuration, This body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ be to thee this day a manifestation! This was followed by an exorcism of the water, of which nu- merous formulas are on record, varying in detail, but all presenting the quaintest superstition mingled with the most audacious presumption, as though all the powers of the Cre- ator were intrusted to his servant, the whole furnishing a vivid picture of robust faith and self-confident ignorance. 0 creature of water! I adjure thee by the living God, by the holy God who in the beginning separated thee from the dry land; I adjure thee by the living God who led thee from the fountain of Paradise, and in four rivers commanded thee to encompass the world; I adjure thee by Him who in Cana of Galilee by his ,will changed thee to wine, who trod on thee with his holy foot, who gave thee the name Siloa; I adjure thee by the God who in thee cleansed Nanman, the Syrian, of his leprosy ; Saying, 0 holy water, 0 blessed water, water which washest the dust and sins of the world, I adjure thee by the 5* 54 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, living God that thou shalt show thyself pure, nor retain any false im- age, but shalt be exorcised water, to make manifest and reveal and bring to naught all falsehood, and to make manifest and bring to light all truth; so that he who shall place his hand in thee, if his cause be just and true, shall receive no hurt; but if he be perjured, let his hand be burned with fire, that all men may know the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will come with the Holy Ghost to judge with fire the quick and the dead, and the world! Amen! ~ After the experiment had taken place, the hand was care- fully enveloped in a cloth, sealed with the signet of the judge, and three days afterwards it was unwrapped, when the guilt or innocence of the party was announced by the condition of the member4 The justification of this mode of procedure by its most able defender, Hincmar, Archbishop of iRheims, is similar in spirit to this form of adjuration. King Lothair, great-grandson of Charlemagne, desiring to get rid of his wife, Teutberga, ac- cused her of the foulest incest, and forced her to a confes- sion, which she afterwards recanted, proving her innocence by undergoing the ordeal of hot water by proxy. Lothair, nevertheless, married his concubine, Waldrada, and for ten years the whole of Europe was occupied with the disgusting details of the quarrel, council after council assembling to consider the subject, and the thunders of Rome being freely employed. Hincmar, the most conspicuous ecclesiastic of his day, stood boldly forth in defence of the unhappy Queen, and in his treatise De Divortio Lotharii et Teutberg~, he was led to justify the use of ordeals of all kinds. The spe- cies of reasoning which was deemed conclusive in the ninth century may be appreciated from his arguments in favor of the wneum, Because in boiling water the guilty are scalded and the innocent are unhurt, because Lot escaped unharmed from the fire of Sodom and the future fire which will precede the terrible Judge will be harmless to the * Formuhe Exorcismorum, Baluze, II. 639 et seq. Various other formulas are given by Baluze, Spelman, Muratori, and other collectors, all manifesting the same unconscious irreverence. t Doom concerning hot iron and water; Laws of .2~thelstan, Thorpe, I. 226; Baluze, II. 644. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 55 Saints and will burn the wicked, as in the Babylonian furnace of old. * This form of trial was in use among all the races in whose legislation the purgatio vulgaris found place. It is the only mode alluded to in the Salique Law, from the primitive text to the amended code of Charlemagne.j- The same may be said of the Wisigoths, as we have already seen; while the early codes of the Frisians, the Anglo-Saxons, and the Loin- bards, all refer cases to its decision. j In Iceland it was employed from the earliest times, under the name of ketiltaic or ketilfang; and it continued in vogue throughout Europe until the general discredit attached to this mode of judgment led to the gradual abandonment of the ordeal as a legal pro- cess. It is among the forms enumerated in the sweeping con- demnation of the whole system in 1215 by Innocent III. in the Fourth Council of Lateran; but even subsequently we find it prescribed in certain cases by the municipal laws in force throughout the whole of Northern and Southern Germany, and as late as 1282 it is specified in a charter of Gaston of B6arn, conferring on a church the privilege of holding ordeals . The trial by red-hot iron (judicium fern, juise) was in use from a very early period, and became one of the favorite modes of determining disputed questions. It was adminis- tered in two essentially different forms. The one (vomeres igniti, examen pedale) consisted of laying on the ground at certain distances six, nine, or in some cases twelve, red-hot ploughshares, among which the accused walked barefooted, sometimes blindfolded, when it became an ordeal of pure * Quia in aqua ignita coquantur culpabiles et innoxii liberantur incocti, quia de igne Sodomitico Lot justas evasit inustus, et futurus ignis qui pr~ibit terribilem judicem, Sanetis erit innocaus et scelestos aduret, at ohm Babylonica fornax, qu~ pueros omnino non contigit. Interrog. VII. t First Text of Pardessus, Tit. LIII., LVI.; MS. Guelferbyt. Tit. XIV., XVI.; L. Emend. Tit. LV., LIX. f L. Frision. Tit. III.; L. thelredi, IV. 4 6; L. Lombard. Lib. I. Tit. XXXILL. 41. 4 Kdnigswarter, op. cit. p. 212. II Jar. Provin. Saxon. Lib. I. Art. 39; Jar. Provin. Alamaa. Cap. XXX VII. 4415, 16. Ducange. 56 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, chance, and sometimes compelled to press each iron with his naked feet.* The other and more usual form obliged the patient to carry in his hand for a certain distance, usually nine feet, a piece of red-hot iron, the weight of which was determined by law and varied with the importance of the question at issue or the magnitude of the alleged crime.j- The hand was then wrapped up and sealed, and three days afterward the decision was rendered in accordance with its condition.* These proceedings were accompanied by the same solemn observances which we have already described, and the intervention of God was invoked in the name of all the mani- festations of Divine clemency or wrath by the agency of fire, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, the burning bush of iloreb, the destruction of Sodom, and the day of judgment. In the earlier perio4s the burning iron was reserved for cases of peculiar atrocity. Thus we find it prescribed by Charlemagne in accusations of parricide, II and among the Thuringians it was ordered for women suspected of poisoning or otherwise murdering their husbands, a crime visited with peculiar severity in almost all codes. Subsequently, how- ever, it beca~ne rather an aristocratic procedure, as contra- distinguished from the water ordeals. This nevertheless was not universal, for both kinds were employed indiscriminately * Si titubaverit, si singulos vomeres pleno pede non presserit, si quantulum- cunque hasa fuerit, sententia proferatur. Annal. Winton. Eccles. (Ducange, s. v. Vomeres.) t Thus, among the Anglo-Saxons, in the simple ordeal the iron weighed one pound, in the triple ordeal three pounds. The latter is prescribed for incen- diaries and morth-slayers (secret murderers), thelstan, IV. 6, for false coining, Ethelred, III. 7,for plotting against the kings life, Ethelred, V. 30, and Cnut, Secular, 58, while at a later period, in the collection known as the Laws of Henry I., we find it extended to cases of theft, robbery, arson, and felonies in general, Cap. LXVI. 9. t Laws of thelstan, IV. 7. Adjuratio fern vel aqu~ fcrvcntis, Baluze, II. 656. Even in this minute particular we see the mysterious connection between the superstitions of Europe and those of India. In Malabar, the ordeal of red-hot iron was followed by a similar ceremony; the hand was wrapped up with linea soaked in rice-water, sealed by the king, and opened three days afterward for exam- ination. (Collin de Plancy, op. cit. 228.) For instance, see various forms of exorcism given by Baluze, II. 651 654. II Capit. Carol. Mag. II. Ann. 803, cap. 5. L. Anglior. et Werinor. Tit. XIV. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 57 by the Anglo~Saxons,* and at a later period throughout Ger- many ; ~ while in the Assises de Jerusalem the hot iron is the only form alluded to as employed in the roturier courts4 and as early as 847 the Council of Mayence indicates it especially for slaves. Notwithstanding this, we find it to have been the mode usually selected by persons of rank when compelled to throw themselves upon the judgment of God. The Empress Richarda, wife of Charles le Gros, accused in 887 of adultery with Bishop Liutward, offered to prove her innocence either by the judicial combat or the red-hot iron. II The tragical tradition of Mary, wife of the Third Otho, contains a similar example, with the somewhat unusual variation of an accuser undergoing an ordeal to prove a charge. The Empress, hurried away by a sudden and unconquerable passion for Amula, Count of Modena,in 996, repeated in all its details the story of Potiphars wife. The unhappy Count, unceremo- niously condemned to lose his head, asserted his innocence to his wife, and entreated her to clear his reputation. He was executed, and the Countess, seeking an audience of the Emperor, disproved the calumny by carrying unharmed the red-hot iron, when Otho, convinced of his rashness by this triumphant vindication, immediately repa4red his injustice by consigning his Empress to the stake. When Edward the ~ Laws of .A~thelred, IV. 6, where the accuser had the right to select the mode in which the ordeal should he administered. t The Jur. Provin. Alaman. (Cap. XXXVII. ~ 15, 16; Cap. CLXXXVI. ~ 4, 6, 7; Cap. CCCLXXIV.) allows thieves and other malefactors to select the ordeal they prefer. The Jur. Provin. Saxon. (Lib. I. Art. 39) affords them in addition the privilege of the duel. t Baisse Court, Cap. 132, 261, 279, 280, etc. Si Preshyterum occidit, si liher est, cum XII. juret; si autem servus, per XII. vomeres ferventes se expurget. (Ducange, s. v. Vomneres.) I Regino, Ann. 887. Annales Metenses. Gotfridus Viterhiensis, Pars XVII. De Tertio Othone Imperatore. Siffridi Epit. Lib. I. Ann. 998. The story is not mentioned hy any contemporary authori- ties, and Muratori has well exposed its improhahility (Annali d Italia, Ann. 996). In convicting the Empress of calumny, the Countess of Modena appeared as an accuser, making good the charge by the ordeal; hut if we look upon her as simply vindicating her hushands character, the case enters into the ordinary course of such affairs. Indeed, among the Anglo-Saxons there was a special provision hy which the friends of an executed criminal might clear his reputation by undergoing the triple ordeal, after depositing pledges, to he forfeited in case of defeat. Ethelred, III. ~ 6. 58 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, Confessor, who entertained a not unreasonable dislike to his mother Emma, listened eagerly to the accusation of her crimi- nal intimacy with Alwyn, Bishop of Winchester, she was con- demned to undergo the ordeal of the burning shares, and walking over them barefooted and unharmed, she established beyond peradventure the falsehood of the charge.* Robert Curthose, son of William the Conqueror, while in exile dur- ing his youthful rebellion against his father, formed an inti- macy with a pretty girl. Years afterwards, when he was Duke of Normandy, she presented herself with two likely youths, whom she asserted to be pledges of the Dukes former affec- tion. Robert was incredulous; but the mother, carrying unhurt the red-hot iron, forced him to forego his doubts, and to acknowledge the paternity of the boys, whom he thence- forth adopted.j- Remy, Bishop of Dorchester, when accused of treason against William the Conqueror, was cleared by the devotion of a follower, who underwent the ordeal of hot iron4 About the same period, Centulla IV. of B6arn caused it to be employed in a dispute with the Bishop of Lescar concerning the fine paid for the murder of a priest, the ecclesiastic, as usual, being victorious. But perhaps the instance of this ordeal most notable in its results was that by which Bishop Poppo, in 962, succeeded in convincing and conveiting the Pagan Danes. The worthy missionary, dining with King Harold Blaatand, denounced, with more zeal than discretion, the indigenous deities as lying devils. The King dared him to prove his faith in his God, and on his assenting, caused next morning an immense piece of iron to be duly heated, which the undaunted Poppo grasped and carried round to the satisfaction of the royal circle, displaying his hand unscathed by the glowing metal. The miracle was sufficient, and Den- mark thenceforth becomes an integral portion of Christen- dom.II No form of ordeal was more thoroughly introduced through * Rapin, Hist. dAngleterre, I. 123. I Ordericus Vitalis, Lib. X. cap. 13. t Roger of Wendover, Ann. 10S5. ~ Mazure et Hatoulet, Fors de Bdarn, p. xxxviii. I Widukindi Lib. ILL cap. 65; Sigebert. Gemblac. Ann. 966. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 59 out the whole extent of Europe. From Spain to Constanti- nople, and from Scandinavia to Naples, it was appealed to with confidence as an unfailing mode of ascertaining the will of Heaven. The term judicium, indeed, was at length understood to mean an ordeal, and generally that of hot iron, and in its barbarized form, juise,~~ may almost always be con- sidered to indicate this particular kind. In the code of the Frankish kingdoms of the East, it is the only mode alluded to, except the duel, and it there retained its legal authority long after it had become obsolete elsewhere. The Assises de Jerusalem were in force in the Venetian colonies until the sixteenth century, and the manuscript, preserved officially in the archives of Venice, described by Morelli as written in 1436, retains the primitive directions for the employment of the Iuise.* Even the Venetian translation, commenced in 1531 and finished in 1536, is equally scrupulous, although an act of the Council of Ten, April 10th, 1535, shows that these customs had fallen into desuetude and had been formally abolished.t We may therefore be justified in assuming that in fact it had previously been abandoned in the East about the same time that it was disused in the West, in the first half of the thirteenth century, though doubtless occasional instances of its employment may have occurred, as we find them in Ger- many until the seventeenth or eighteenth century. The ordeal of fire was sometimes administered directly, without the intervention of water or of iron; and in this, its simplest form, it may be considered the origin of the pro- verbial expression, Jen mettrai le doigt au feu, as an affirmation of positive belief4 showing how thoroughly the whole system engrained itself in the popular mind. The earliest legal allusion to it occurs in the code of the IRipuarian Franks, where it is prescribed in some cases of doubt, as applicable to slaves and strangers. From the phraseology of ~ This text is given by Kausler, Stuttgard, 1839, together with an older one compiled for the lower court of Nicosia. It is to this edition that our references are made. I Pardessus, Us et Coutumes de la Mer, I. 268 et seq. t Thus Rabelais, en mon aduiz elle est pucelle, toutesfoys ie nen vonidroys mettre mon doigt on feu. Pantagruel, Lib. II. Chap. XV. 4 Quodsi servus in ignem manum miserit, et leesam tulerit, etc. Tit. XXX. 60 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, these passages, we may conclude that it was then administered by placing the hand of the accused in a fire. Subsequently, however, it was conducted on a larger and more impressive scale; huge pyres were built, and the individual undergoing the trial literally walked through the flanies. The celebrated Petrus Igneus gained his surname and reputation by an ex- ploit of this kind, which attracted great attention in its day. Pietro di Pavia, Bishop of Florence, unpopular with the citi- zens, but protected by Godfrey, Duke of Tuscany, was accused of simony and heresy. Being acquitted by the Council of Rome, in 1063, and the offer of his accusers to prove his guilt by the ordeal of fire being refused, he endeavored to put down his adversaries by tyranny and oppression. Great dis- turbances resulted, and at length, in 1067, the monks of Yallombrosa, who had received and sheltered many exiled brothers, resolved to decide the question by the ordeal, incited thereto by no less than three thousand enthusiastic Floren- tines, who assembled there for the purpose. Pietro Aldo- brandini, a monk of Vallombrosa, urged by his superior, the holy S. Giovanni Gualberto, offered himself to undergo the trial. After imposing religious ceremonies, he walked slowly between two piles of blazing wood, ten feet long, five feet wide, and four and a half feet high, the passage between them being six feet wide and covered with an inch or two of glow- ing coals. The violence of the flames agitated his drbss and hair, but he emerged without hurt, even the hair on his legs being unsinged, barelegged and barefooted though he was. A formal statement of the facts was sent to Rome by the Florentines, the Papal court gave way, and the Bishop was deposed; while the monk who had given so striking a proof of his steadfast faith was marked for promotion, and eventually Cap. I.; also Tit. XXXI. If we may credit Cedrenus (Compend. Histor. Ann. 16 Anastasii), as early as the year 507, under the Emperor Anastasius, a Catholic bishop, who had been worsted in a theological dispute with an Arian, vindicated his tenets by standing in the midst of a blazing bonfire, and thence addressing an admiring crowd; but Cedrenus being a compiler of the eleventh century, and zealous in his orthodoxy, the incident can hardly be thought to possess much his- torical authority, and only illustrates the age of the writer, not that attributed to the occurrence. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALg. 61 died Cardinal of Albano.* An example of a similar nature occurred in Milan, in 1103, when the Archbishop Grossolano was accused of simony by a priest named Liutprand, who, having no proof to sustain his charge, offered the ordeal of fire. In the Piazza di S. Ambrosia he accordingly traversed a blazing pile of huge dimensions, receiving only a slight burn on one hand and one foot, which being claimed as a victory, Grossolano was obliged to retire to Rome. Pascal II., how- ever, receIved him graciously, and the Milanese suifragans disapproved of the summary conviction of their metropolitan, to which they were probably all equally liable. A tumult was excited in Milan, the priest was forced to seek safety in flight, and Grossolano was restored4 But the experiment was not always so successful for the rash enthusiast. In 1098, during the first Crusade, after the capture of Antioch, when the Christians were in turn besieged in that city, and, sorely pressed and famine-struck, were well- nigh reduced to despair, an ignorant peasant named Peter Bartholomew, a follower of Raymond of Toulouse, announced a series of visions in which St. Andrew and the Saviour had revealed to him that the lance which pierced the side of Christ lay hidden in the church of St. Peter. After several men had dug in the spot indicated, from morning until night, without success, Peter leaped into the trench, and by a few well-directed strokes of his mattock exhumed the priceless relic, which he presented to Count Raymond. Cheered by this, and by various other manifestations of Divine assistance, the Christians gained heart, and defeated the Infidels with immense slaughter. Peter became a man of mark, and had fresh visions on all important conjunctures. Amid the jeal- ousies and dissensions which raged among the Frankish chiefs, the possession of the holy lance vastly increased Raymonds importance, and rival princes were found to assert that it was merely a rusty Arab weapon, hidden for the occasion, and wholly undeserving the veneration of which it was the object. At length, after some months, during the leisure of the siege * Fleury, Hist. Ecc1~siastique, Liv. LXI.; Muratori, Annali d Italia, Ann. 1067. t Murafori, op. cit., Ann. 1103. VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 6 62 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, of Archas, the principal ecclesiastics in the camp investigated the matter, and Peter, taunted by the doubts expressed as to his veracity, offered to vindicate the identity of the relic by the fiery ordeal. He was taken at his word, and after three days allowed for fasting and prayer, a pile of dry olive- branches was made, fourteen feet long and four feet high, with a passage-way one foot wide. In the presence of forty thousand men all eagerly awaiting the result, Peter, bearing the object in dispute, and clothed only in a tunic, boldly rushed through the flames, amid the anxious prayers and adjurations of the multitude. As the chroniclers lean to the side of the Neapolitan Princes or of the Count of Toulouse, so do their accounts of the event differ; the former asserting that Peter sustained mortal injury in the fire; the latter assuring us that he emerged safely, with but one or two slight burns, and that, the crowd enthusiastically pressing round him in triumph, he was thrown down, trampled on, and injured so severely that he died in a few days, asseverating with his latest breath the truth of his revelations. Raymond per- sisted in upholding the sanctity of his relic, but it was sub- sequently lost.* The most remarkable attempt at this kind of ordeal oc- curred at a period long after the abrogation of the whole system; and though not carried into execution, it is worthy of passing notice, as it may be said to have produced results affecting the destinies of civilization to our own day. When, at the close of the fifteenth century, Savonarola, the precursor of the Reformation, was commencing at Florence the career * Fuicher. Carnot. Cap. X.; Radulf. Cadomensis, Cap. C., CI., CII., CVIII.; Raimond. de Agiles (Bongars, I. 150 168). The latter was chaplain of the Count of Toulouse, and a firm asserter of the authenticity of the lance. He relates with pride, that on its discovery he threw himself into the trench and kissed it while the point only had as yet been uncovered. He likewise officiated at the ordeal, and delivered the adjuration as Peter entered the flames: Si Deus omnipotens huic homini loquntus est facie ad faciem, et beatus Andreas Lanceam Dominicam ostendit ei, cum ipse vigilaret, transeat iste ilinsus per ignem. Sin autem aliter est, et mendacium est, comburatur iste cum lancea quam portabit in manibus suis. Raoul de Caen, on the other hand, became in 1107 secretary to the chivalrous Tancred, and thus obtained his information from the opposite party. He is very decided in his animadversions on the discoverers. Fuicher de Chartrcs was chap. lain to Baldwin I. of Jerusalem, and seems impartial, though sceptical. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 63 which Luther afterwards accomplished, and was gradually throwing off all reverence for the infamous Borgia, who then occupied the chair of St. Peter, he challenged any of his adversaries to undergo with him the ordeal of fire, to test the truth of his propositions that the Church needed a thor- ough reformation, and that the excommunication pronounced against him by the Pope was null and void. In 1497 the Franciscan, Francesco di Puglia, an ardent opponent, ac- cepted the challenge, but left Florence before the prelimi- naries were arranged. On his return, in the following year, the affair was again taken up; but the principals readily found excuses to devolve the dangerous office on enthusi- astic followers. Giuhiano IRondinelli, another Franciscan, agreed to replace his companion, declaring that he expected to be burned alive; while on the other side the ardor was so great that two hundred and thirty-eight Dominicans and numberless, laymen subscribed a request to be permitted to vindicate their cause by triumphantly undergoing the trial unhurt, in place of Domenico da Peschia, who had been se- lected as Savonarolas champion. At length, after many pre~ liminaries, the Signiory of Florence assigned the 7th of April, 1498, for the experiment. An immense platform was erected, on which a huge pile of wood was built, charged with gun- powder and other combustibles, and traversed by a narrow passage, through which the champions were to walk. All Florence assembled to see the show; but when everything was ready, quibbles arose about permitting the champions to carry crucifixes, and to have the sacrament with them, the nature of their garments, and other like details, in disputing over which the day wore away, and at vespers the assemblage broke up without result. Each party, of course, accused the other of having raised the difficulties in order to escape the ordeal; and the people, enraged at being cheated of the prom- ised exhibition, and determined to have compensation for it, easily gave credit to the assertions of the Franciscans, who stimulated their ardor by affirming that Savonarola had en- deavored to commit the sacrilege of burning the sacrament. In two days they thus succeeded in raising a tumult, during which Savonarolas convent of San Marco was attacked. Not- 64 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July,. withstanding a gallant resistance by the friars, he was taken prisoner, and, after undergoing frightful tortures, was hanged and burned. Thus was repressed a movement which at one time promised to regenerate Italy, and to restore purity to a corrupted Church. The mind loses itself in conjecturing what would have been the result, if the career of Savonarola had not thus been brought to an untimely end; though, while fully acknowledging his genius and fervor, we must admit that he was not of the stuff of which the leaders of mankind are fashioned.* It will be observed that the ordeal of fire was principally affected by ecclesiastics in church affairs, perhaps because it was of a nature to produce a powerful impression on the spec- tators, while at the same time it could no doubt in many in- stances be managed to secure the desired results by those who controlled the details. In like manner, it was occasionally em- ployed on inanimate matter to decide points of faith or polity. Thus, in the question which excited great commotions in Spain in 1077, as to the substitution of the Roman for the Gothic or Mozarabic rite, after a judicial combat had been fought and determined in favor of the national ritual, the partisans of the former continuing to urge its pretensions, the ordeal of fire was appealed to ; a missal of each kind was committed to the flames, and, to the great joy of all patriotic Castilians, the Gothic offices escaped unconsumed.t A somewhat similar instance occurred in Constantinople as late as the close of the thirteenth century, when Andronicus II., on his accession, found the city torn into factions relative to the patriarchate, arising from the expulsion of Arsenius, a former patriarch. All attempts to soothe the dissensions proving vain, at length * We have principally followed a very curious and characteristic account of the Sperimento del Fuoco, contained in a Life of Savonarola by the P. Pacifico Burlamacchi, given by Mansi in his edition of the Miscellanca of Baluze, I. 530 et seq. Burlamacchi, as a friend and ardent follower of the reformer, of course throws all the blame of defeating the ordeal on the quibbles raised by the Francis- cans, while the Diary of Burchard, master of ceremonies of the Papal Chapel to Borgia (quoted by Bayle, Dict. fist. s. v. Savonarola, Note G), roundly nsserts the contrary. Guicciardini (Lib. III. Cap. VI.) briefly states the facts, without venturing an opinion, except that the result utterly destroyed the credit of Savona. rola, and enabled his enemies to make short work with him. t Ferreras, Hist. Gen. dEspagne, trad. dHermilly, III. 245. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 65 both parties agreed to write out their respective statements and arguments, and, committing both books to the flames, to abide by the result, each side hoping that its manuscript would be preserved by the special interposition of Heaven. The ceremony was conducted with imposing state, and, to the general surprise, both books were reduced to ashes. Singu- larly enough, all parties united in the sensible conclusion that God had thereby commanded them to forget their differences, and to live in peace. * The genuineness of relics was often tested in this manner by exposing them to the action of fire. When in 1065 the pious iEgelwin, Bishop of Durham, miraculously discovered the relics of the holy martyr, King Oswyn, he gave the hair to Judith, wife of Tosti, Earl of Northumberland, and she with all reverence placed it on a raging fire, whence it was withdrawn, not only uninjured, but marvellously increased in lustre, to the great edification of all beholders.f Guibert de Nogent likewise relates, that, when his native town became honored with the possession of an arm of St. Arnoul, the in- habitants, at first doubting the authenticity of the precious relic, cast it into the flames; when it vindicated its sanctity, not only by being fire-proof; but also by leaping briskly away from the coals, testimony which was held to be incontro- vertible. f The cold-water ordeal (judicium aquas frigidce) differed from most of its congeners in requiring a miracle to convict the accused, as in the natural order of things he escaped. The preliminary solemnities, fasting, prayer, and religious rites, were similar to those already described; the reservoir of water, or pond, was then exorcised with formulas exhibiting the same combination of faith and impiety, and the accused, bound with cords, was lowered into it with a rope, to prevent fraud if guilty, and to save him from drowning if innocent, ~ * Niceph. Gregor. Lib. VI. I Matthew of Westminster, Ann. 1065. ~ Guibert. Koviogent. de Vita sna, Lib. III. Cap. XXI. ~ Ne ant aliquem possit fraudem in judicio facere, nut si aqua ilium velut in. noxium reciperit, ne in aqua pericletetur, ad tempus valeat retrahi. Hinemar. de Divort. Lothar. Interrog. VI. It may readily be supposed that a skilful man- 6* 66 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, the length of rope allowed under water being an ell and a half, according to the Anglo-Saxon rule.* The basis of this ordeal was the superstitious belief that the pure element would not receive into its bosom any one stained with the crime of a false oath, a belief which we have seen was entertained in primeval India, and which bears consid- erable tesemblance to the kindred superstition of old, that the earth would eject the corpse of a criminal, and not allow it to remain quietly interred. The ecclesiastical doctrines on the subject are clearly enunciated by llincmar: He who seeks to conceal the truth by a lie will not sink in the waters over which the voice of the Lord hath thundered; for the pure nature of water recognizes as impure, and rejects as in- compatible, human nature which, released from falsehood by the waters of baptism, becomes again infected with untruth. f The baptism in the Jordan, the passage of the Red Sea, and the crowning judgment of the Deluge, were freely adduced in support of the theory, though these latter were in direct con- tradiction to it, and the most figurative language was boldly employed to give some show of probability to the results ex- pected. Thus, in St. Dunstans elaborate formula, the prayer offered over the water metaphorically adjures the Supreme Being, Let not the water receive the body of him who, released from the weight of goodness, is upborne by the wind of iniquity! 4 Although the use of this form of ordeal prevailed whenever the judgment of God was appealed to, and although it enjoyed a later existence than any of its kindred practices, it was the last to make its appearance in Europe. There seems to agement of the rope might easily produce the appearance of floating, when a con- viction was desired by the priestly operators. * Et si judicium aque frigide sit, tauc immergatur una nina et dimidia in fune. L. ZEthelstani, I. Cap. XXIII. t Qui veritatem mendacio cupit obtegere, in aquis, super quas vox Domini Dei majestatis intonuit, non potest mergi, quia pura natura aqu~ naturam humanam per aquam haptismatis ab omni mendacii figmento purgatam, iterum mendacio infectam, non recognoscit puram, et ideo earn non recipit, sed rejicit ut alienam. De Divort. Lothar. Interrog. VI. ~ Nec patiantur recipere corpus, quod ab onere bonitatis evacuatam, ventus iniquitatis allevavit ac inane constituit. Ordo S. Dunstani Dorobern. (Baluze, II. 650.) 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 67 be good reason for attributing its introduction as a Christian mode of trial to Pope Eugenius II., who occupied the pontifi- cal throne from 824 to 82~T, although some critics have denied to it this paternity, on what appear to us insufficient grounds. Baluze gives a formula for conducting it which is thought to be of the ninth century, and which expressly states that Eugenius invented it at the request of Louis fe D6bonnaire, as a means of repressing the prevalent vice of perjury, and another manuscript to which Mabillon attributes the same date makes a similar assertion.* All this derives additional prob- ability from the fact that the cold-water ordeal is not alluded to in any of the codes or laws anterior to the ninth century, while it is continually referred to in subsequent ones; and another evidence of weight is afforded by St. Agobard, Arch- bishop of Lyons, who, in his celebrated treatise against the judgment of God, written a few years before the accession of Engenius, while enumerating and describing the various modes in use, says nothing about that of cold water.-j- The only arguments alleged in favor of an earlier date are certain passages in Gregory of Tours, describing miracles in which saintly personages condemned to be drowned floated trium- phantly ashore, cases which have evidently nothing to do with the questioii, as they were interpositions of Providence to save, not to condemn, and were cases of punishment, not legal investigations. ~ * Hoc judicium autem, petente Domno Hiudovico Imperatore, constituit beatus Eugenius ne peijuri super reliquins sanctorum perdant suas animas in malum consentientes. Baluze, II. 646. Hoc autem judicium creavit omnipo- tens Deus, et verum est; Ct per Domnum Eugenium Apostolicum inventum est. Mabillon, Analecta, pp. 161, 162, ap. Cangium. The same assertion is made in several other rituals which are given at length by Muratori, Antiq. Ital., Dissert. 38; and by Juretus, Observat. ad lyon. Epist. 74. I Non oportet.. .. suspicari quod omnipotens Dens occulta hominum in pr~- senti vitn per aquam calidam ant ferrum revelari velit; qnanto minus per crudelia certamina 3 Lib. adv. L Gundobadi, Cap. IX. And again in the Liber contra Judicium Dci, Cap. I.: Mitte unum de his, qni congredintur mecum singulari certamine, ut probet me reum tibi esse, si occident; ant certe, jube ferrum vel aquas calefieni, quns manibus illa~sus attrectem; ant constitue cruces, ad quas stans immobilis perseverem. ~ The Epistle given in Gratian (C. Mennam cans. 2. 9. 4) as written by St. Gregory to Queen Brunhilda, scarcely needs a reference, its allusions to the ordeal having long since been restored to their true author, Alexander II. 68 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, The new process had a hard struggle for existence. But a few years after its introduction, it was condemned by Louis le D6bonnaire at the Council of Worms, in 829; its use was strictly prohibited, and the missi dominici were instructed to see that the order was carried into effect, regulations which were repeated by the Emperor Lothair, son of Louis.* Notwithstanding this, it seemed to adapt itself to popular preju- dices, and the interdiction was of little avail. Its use spread throughout Europe, and among all the Continental races it was placed on an equal footing with the other forms of ordeal. Among the Anglo-Saxons, indeed, its employment has been called in question by some modern writers; but the Dooms of A1~thelstan, and the formula of St. iDunstan of Canterbury, already quoted, sufficiently manifest its existence in England before the Conquest. The ordeals of both hot and cold water were stigmatized as plebeian from an early period, as the red-hot iron and the duel were patrician. Thus llincmar in the ninth century alludes to the former as applicable to persons of servile condition ; ~ a constitution of the Emperor St. Henry IL (about A. iD. 1000) in the Lombard law has a similar bearing ; j an Alsatian document in the eleventh, and the laws of Scotland in the twelfth century, assume the same position, and Glan- ville at the end of the twelfth century expressly asserts it. This, however, was an innovation; for in the earliest codes there is no such distinction, a provision in the Salique law even prescribing the a3neurn, or hot-water ordeal, for the * Ut examen aquse frigid~n, qu~n hactenus fiebat, a missis nostris omnibus mo- dis interdicatur, ut flon ulterius fiat. Capit. Wormat. Ann. 829, Tit. II. cap. 12; L. Longobard. Lib. II. Tit. LV. 31. I Ut si pra~fati sui liomines quia non 1iber~u conditionis snut, ant cum aqna frigida, ant cum aqua calida, jude ad judicium Dci exirent, quid jude Deus ostende- ret mihi sufficeret. Opusc. adv. Hincmar. Landun. Cap. XLIII. ~ Si quis accusatus negare voluerit, aut per duclium si liber est; si vero servus, per judicium ferventis aqn~ defendat se. L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. IX. 4 39. 4 Conventus Alsat., Anno 1051, 4 6; Regiam Majestatem, Lib. IV. Cap. Ill. 4 4 (ap. Cangium). II In tali antem cansa tenetur se purgare is qui accusatur per dei judicium scilicet per ferrum calidum si fuerit homo liber, per aquam si fuerit rusticus. Dc Legg. Anglise, Lib. XIV. Cap. I. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 69 Antrustions, who constituted the most favored class in the state.* Nor even in later times was the rule by any means absolute. In the tenth century, Sanche, Duke of Gascony, desirous of founding the monastery of Saint Sever, claimed some land which was necessary for the purpose, and being resisted by the possessor, the title was decided by reference to the cold-water ordeal.f In 1O2~, Guelf II., Count of Aitorf, ancestor of the great houses of Guelf in Italy and Eng- land, having taken part in the revolt of Conrad the Younger and Ernest of Suabia, was forced by the Emperor Conrad the Salique to prove his innocence in this manner. J: This may have been, perhaps, intended rather as a humiliation than as a judicial proceeding, for Guelf had been guilty of great excesses in the conduct of the rebellion; but we find, nearly two centuries later, when all the vulgar ordeals were falling into disuse, that the water ordeal was established among the nobles of Southern Germany, as the mode of deciding doubt- ful claims on fiefs. Although the cold-water ordeal disappears from the statute- book in civil and in ordinary criminal actions at the same time that the other similar modes of purgation were aban- doned, there is one class of cases in which it maintained its hold upon the popular faith to a much later period. These were the accusations of sorcery and witchcraft which form so strange and prominent a feature of mediteval society, and its use for this purpose may apparently be traced to various causes. For such crimes, drowning was the punishment inflicted by the customs of the Franks, as soon as they had lost the respect for individual liberty of action which ex- cluded personal punishments from their original code; II and * Text. Herold. Tit. LXXVI. I Mazure et Hatoulet, Fors de B~arn, p. xxxi. 4 Conrad. Ursperg., sub Lothar. Saxon. 4 Juris Feud. Alaman. Cap. LXXVII. 4 2. II Lodharius Gerbergam, more maleficorum, in Arari mergi prmcepit. Nithardi Hist. Lib. I. Ann. 834. The Salique law merely inflicts fines in cases of witchcraft, even when the offender had, according to a widely spread superstition of the times, eaten the vic- tim bodily. (L. Emendat. Cap. XXI. 4 3; Cap. LXVII. 4 3.) So also the L. Ripuarior. (Tit. LXXXIII.) Charlemagne allowed suspected persons to be tortured for confession, provided the process was not carried to the point of death, TO JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, in addition to the general belief that the pure element refused to receive those who were tainted with crime, there was in this special class of cases a widely spread belief that those who became adepts in sorcery and magic lost their specific gravity. Pliny mentions a race of enchanters on the Euxine who were lighter than water, eosdem non posse mergi ne veste quidam degravatos; and Stephanus Byzan- tinus describes the inhabitants of Thebe as magicians who could kill with their breath, and floated when thrown into the sea.* This whimsical opinion was perpetuated to a com- paratively late period, and gave rise to a species of ordeal known as the trial by balance, in which the suspected sor- cerer was weighed to ascertain his guilt, enabling him, we and after Conviction they were to be imprisoned until amendment. (Capit. I. Ann. 805, Cap. XXV.) The legislation of other races was very various in this respect. The Ostrogoths visited all such practices with death (Cod. Theoderici, Cap. CVIII.), relaxing somewhat on the laws of Constantine, who sought to extirpate them with fire and torments (Coust. 3, 6, 7; C. De Maleficis. IX. 15). The Wisi- goths more humanely contented themselves with stripes, shaving the head, and exposure (L. Wisigoth. Lih. VI. Tit. II. cap. 3). The Lombard law (Lib. II. Tit. XXXVIII. 2) ordered them to be sold as slaves beyond the houndaries of the province, and the earliest legislator, King Rotharis, denounced severe penalties against those who put women to death under the absurd belief that they could eat living men. Quod Christianis mentibus nullatenus est credendum, nec possihile est, ut hominem mulier vivum intrinsecus possit comedere. (L. Longobard. Lib. I. Tit. XI. 9.) The Pagan Saxons entertained a similar superstition, for which they were in the hahit of burning witches and sorcerers, as we learn from the civilizing and Christianizing capitulary of Charlemagne: Si quis, a diabolo deceptus, crediderit, secundum morem paganorum, virum aliquem ant feminam strigam esse et homines comedere, et propter hoc ipsam incenderit, etc. (Capit. de Partibus Saxonin, Ann. 789, Cap. VI.) The Anglo-Saxons merely banished the witch who would not reform, with the penalty of death for disobedience (Laws of Edward and Guthrum, Tit. XI.; Ethelred, VI. 7 ; Cnut Secular, Cap. IV.); unless the death of a victim had been compassed, when the offender was executed (.Ethelstan, I. 6), or delivered to the kindred to be punished at their pleasure (Henrici I. Tit. LXXI. ~ 1). The cause of humanity gained but little when, all such accusations being included in the convenient general charge of heresy, for five hundred years luckless sharpers and dupes were committed pitilessly to the flames. Even in the enlighten- snent of the seventeenth century, who can read without grim mirth and wonder the terrible farce of the trial of Urbain Grandier, burryin,, amid details ludicrously revolting, its unfortunate victim through torture to the stake, to retrieve the worth- less reputation of some files perdues? Perhaps the superstition of the devouring of living men by witches may find its last lingering remnants in the vampirism of Eastern Europe. * Ameilbon, de l~preuve de lEau Froide. 1859.] 71 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. may presume, to escape, except when the judges, determined to procure a conviction, managed to elude the vigilance of the inspectors.* To the concurrence of these notions we may attribute the fact, that when the cold-water ordeal was abandoned, in the thirteenth century, as a judicial practice in ordinary cases, it still maintained its place as a special mode of trying those unfortunate persons whom their own folly, or the malice and fears of their neighbors, pointed out as witches and sorcerers.f No less than a hundred years after the efforts of Innocent III. had virtually put an end to all the other forms of vulgar ordeals, we find Louis Hutin ordering its em- ployment in these cases ; 4 and three hundred years later still, the Parlement of Paris was obliged to exert its authority to prevent ignorant judges from disgracing the seventeenth cen- tury by convictions obtained on the strength of this mode of proof. In 1588, an appeal was taken to the supreme tribunal from a sentence pronounced by a Champenois court, ordering a prisoner to undergo the experiment, and the Parlement in December, 1601, registered a formal decree against the practice, an order which it found necessary to repeat, August 10th, 1641. That this latter was not uncalled for, we may assume from the testimony of the celebrated JerOme Bignon, who, writing nearly at the same time, says that, to his own knowl- edge, within a few years, judges were in the habit of eluci- dating doubtful cases in this manner. In the Rhine countries the superstition manifested equal vitality. A treatise written * K6nigswarter (op. cit. p. 186) states that as late as 1728, at Szegedin in Hun- gary, thirteen persons suspected of sorcery were, by order of court, subjected to the ordeal of cold water, and then to that of the balance. At Oudewater in Holland, according to the same authority, the scales used on these occasions are still to be seen. A modification of the trial by balance consisted in putting the accused into one scale and a Bible into the other. (Collin de Plancy, s. v. Bibliomancie.) I In earlier times, various other modes of proof were habitually practised. Among the Lombards, King Rotharis prescribed the judicial combat (L. Longo. bard. Lib. I. Tit. XVI. 4 2). The Anglo-Saxons (iEthelstan, Cap. VI.) direct the triple ordeal, which was either red-hot iron or boiling water. Ille adversus quem maleficium factum fuerit vel proditio, si alium accusa- vent, de quo aliqua suspicio sit curh~, accusatus recipiet judicium aqn~ fnigidtu. Regest. Ludovici Hutini (ap. Caugium). 4 K6nigswarter, op. cit. p. 176. II Porro, nostra memonia, paucis abhinc annis, solebant judices reos maleficii accusatos mergere, pro certo habentes incertuin cnimen hac ratione patefieri. Notse ad Legem Salicam. 72 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, against it in 1585, by llermann Neuwald, shows that it still required to be combated, while another composed in its de- fence in 1590, by IRickius, a learned jurisconsult of Cologne, gives evidence that it did not lack advocates, and moreover declares on the title-page that it was then in common use. * We have already alluded to its employment by an Hungarian tribunal as late as the eighteenth century; and though within the last hundred years it has disappeared from the authorized legal procedures of Europe, still the popular mind has not as yet altogether overcome the superstitions and prejudices of so many ages, and occasionally in some benighted spot an outrage occurs to show us that media~val ignorance and brutality still linger amid the triumphs of modern civilization. In 1815, Belgium was disgraced by a trial of the kind per- formed on an unfortunate person suspected of witchcraft; and in 1836, the populace of ilela, near Dantzic, twice plunged into the sea an old woman reputed to be a sorceress, and as the miserable creature persisted in rising to the surface, she was pronounced guilty, and beaten to death.j- The ordeal of the cross (judicium crucis, stare ad crucem) was one of simple endurance. The plaintiff and defendant, after appropriate religious ceremonies and preparation, stood with uplifted arms before a cross, while divine service was performed, victory being adjudged to the one who was able longest to maintain his position.~ The earliest allusion to it which we have observed occurs in a Capitulary of Pepin le Bref, in 752, where it is prescribed in cases of application for dissolution of marriage by a wife. Charlemagne appears to have regarded it with much favor; for he not only fre- quently refers to it in his Edicts, but, when dividing his mighty empire, in 806, he directs that all territorial disputes which may arise in the future between his sons shall be settled * The title of the work of Rickius was Compendiosa certisque modis astricta defensio Prob~e, Ut loquuntur, Aqu~e Frigid~e, qua in examinatione maleficiarum, plerique judices hodie utuntur. (Ap. Cangium.) t Kiinigswarter, op. cit. p. 177. ~ A formula for judgments obtained in this manner by order of court, in cases of disputed title to land, occurs in the Formuhe Biguoniana~, For. XII. ~ Si qua mulier se reclamaverit quod vir suns nunquam cum ea mansisset, exeant mdc ad crucem, et si verum fuerit, separentur, et illa faciat quod vult. Capit. Pippini, Ann. 752, Cap. XVII. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 73 in this manner.* An example occurring during his reign shows the details of the process. A controversy between the Bishop and citizens of Verona, relative to the building of cer- tain walls, was referred to the decision of the cross. Two young ecclesiastics, selected as champions, stood before the sacred emblem from the commencement of mass ; at the mid- dle of the Passion, Aregaus, who represented the citizens, fell lifeless to the ground, in terrain velut exanimis corruit, while his antagonist, Pacificus, held out triumphantly to the end, and the Bishop gained his cause, as ecclesiastics were wont to do.j- Witnesses too infirm to undergo the battle-trial, by which in the regular process of law they were bound to substantiate their testimony, were allowed, by a Capitulary of 816, to se- lect the ordeal of the cross, with the further privilege, in cases of extreme debility, of substituting a relative or other champion, whose robustness promised an easier task for the Divine interference. ~ A slight variation of this form of ordeal consisted in stand- ing with the arms extended in the form of a cross, while cer tam portions of the service were recited. In this manner, St. Lioba, Abbess of Bischoffsheim, triumphantly vindicated the purity of her flock, and traced out the offender, when the reputation of her convent was imperilled by the discovery of a new-born child drowned in a neighboring pond. The sensitive piety of Louis le D6bonnaire was shocked at this use of the cross, as tending to bring the Christian symbol into contempt, and in 816, soon after the death of Charle * Si caussa vel intentio sive controversia talis inter partes propter terminos aut confinia regnorum orta fuerit qu~ hominum testimonjo declarari vel definiri non possit, tune volumus at ad declarationem rei dubi~a, judicio crucis, Dei voluntas et rerum veritas inquiratur. Chart. Division. Cap. XIV. The allusions to it, throughout the Capitularies of this monarch, are very frequent; for instance, Capit. Ann. 779, Cap. X.; Capit. IV. Ann. 803, Cap. Ill., VI.; In L. Longohard. Lib. II. Tit. XXVIII. 3; Tit. LV. 25, etc. I Ughelli, Italia Sacra, Vol. V. p. 610 (ap. Baluz. Not. ad Libb. Capit.). t Namqne si debiliores ipsi testes fuerint, tune ad crucem examinentur. Nam si majoris ~tatis, et non possint ad crucem stare, tune mittant ant fihios aut parentes, ant qualescnnque homines possint, qui pro eis hoc tendunt. Capit. Lud. Pu, Ann. 816, Cap. I. (Eccardus, L. Francorum, pp. 183, 184.) 4 Rudolph. Fuldens. Vita~ S. Liolxe, Cap. XV. (Ducange, s. v. Crucis .Judzcium.) VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 7 74 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, magne, he prohibited its continuance, at the Council of Aix- la~Chapelle,* an order which was repeated by his son, the Emperor Lothair4 Baluze, however, considers, with appar- ent reason, that this command was respected only in the Rhenish provinces and in Italy, from. the fact that the man- uscripts of the Capitularies belonging to those regions omit the references to the ordeal of the cross, which are retained in the copies used in the other territories of the Frankish empire. 1 Louis himself would seem at length to have changed his opinion; for in his final division of his succes- sion between his sons, he repeats the direction of Charle- magne ~s regards the settlement of disputed boundaries. The procedure, however, appears to have soon lost its popu- larity, and indeed never to have obtained the wide and deeply- seated hold on the veneration of the people enjoyed by the other forms of ordeal. We see little of it at later periods, except the trace it has left in the proverbial allusion to an experimentum crucis. The ordeal of consecrated bread or cheese (judicium offw, panis conjuratio, the corsna~d of the Anglo-Saxons) was ad- ministered by presenting to the accused a piece of bread (gen * Sancitum est Ut nullus deinceps quamlibet examinationem crucis facerc pra~- sumat, ne qua~ Christi passione glorificata est, cujuslibet temeritate contemptui habeatur. Concil. Aquis-Gran. Cap. XVii. I L. Longobard. Lib. H. Tit. LV. 32. ~ iNotx ad Libb. Capit. Lib. I. cap. 103. This dcrives additional probability from the text cited immediately above, relative to the substitution of this ordeal for the duel, which is given by Eckhardt from an apparcntly contemporary manuscript, and which, as we have seen, is attributed to Louis Ic D6bonnaire in the very year of the Council of Aix-la-Chapelle. It is not a simple Capitulary, but an addition to the Salique Law, which invests it with much greater importance. Lindenbruck (Cod. Legum Antiq. p. 355) gives a different text, purporting likewise to be a sup- plement to the Law, made in 816, which prescribes the duel in doubtful cases between laymen, and orders the ordeal of the cross for ecclesiastical causes, in Ecclesi- asticis autem negotiis, crucis judicio rei veritas inquiratur, and allows the same privilege to the imbecillibus nut infirmis qui pugnare non valent. Baluzes col- lection contains nothing of the kind as enacted in 816, but under date of 819 there is a much longer supplement, in which Cap. X. presents the same general regula- tions, almost verbatim, except that in ecclesiastical affairs the testimony of witnesses only is alluded to, and the judicum crucis is altogether omitted. The whole mani- festly shows great confusion of legislation. Chart. Divisionis, Ann. 837, Cap. X. The words used are identical with those of Charlemagne, with the substitution of vexillo crucis for judicio crucis. The word vexillum frequently had the signification of signum or testirnoniurn (v. Cangium, sub voce). 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 75 erally of barley) or of cheese, about an ounce in weight, over which prayers and adjurations had been pronounced. After appropriate religious ceremonies, including the communion, the morsel was eaten, the event being determined by the abil- ity of the accused to swallow it. This depended of course on the imagination, and we can readily understand how, in those times of faith, the impressive observances which accompanied the ordeal would affect the criminal, who, conscious of guilt, stood up at the altar, took the sacrament, and pledged his salvation on the truth of his oath. The mode by which a con- viction was expected may be gathered from the forms of exor- cism employed, of which a number have been preserved. 0 Lord Jesus Christ grant, we pray thee, by thy holy name, that he who is guilty of this crime in thought or in deed, when this creature of sanctified bread is presented to him for the proving of the truth, let his throat be narrowed, and in thy name let it be rejected rather than devoured. And let not the spirit of the Devil prevail in this to subvert the judgment by false appearances. But he who is guilty of this crime, let him, chiefly by virtue of the body and blood of our Lord which he has received in communion, when he takes the consecrated bread or cheese tremble, and grow pale in trembling, and shake in all his limbs; and let the innocent quietly and healthfully, with all ease, chew and swallow this morsel of bread or cheese, crossed in thy holy name, that all may kn9w that thou art the just Judge, & c.* A striking illustration of the superstitions connected with this usage is found in the story related by most of the English chroniclers concerning the death of the powerful Godwin, Earl of Kent, father of King Harold, and in his day the king-maker of England. As lie was dining with his royal son-in-law, Ed- ward the Confessor, some trivial circumstance caused the king to repeat an old accusation that his brother Alfred had met his death at Godwins hands. The old but fiery Earl,. seizing a piece of bread, exclaimed: May God cause this morsel to choke me if I am guilty in thought or in deed of this crime. Then the king took the bread and blessed it, and Godwin, putting it in his mouth, was suffocated by it, and fell dead.t * Exorcisrnus panis hordeacci vel casei. Baluze, II. 655. I This account, with unimportant variations, is given by Roger of Wendover, 76 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, This form of ordeal never obtained the extended influence which characterizes some of the other modes, and it seems to have been chiefly confined to the populations allied to the Saxon race. In England, before the Conquest, it was enjoined on the lower orders of the clergy,* and it may be considered as a plebeian mode of trial, rarely rising into historical impor- tance. Its vitality, however, is demonstrated by the fact that Lindenbruck, writing in 1613, states that it was then still in frequent use.t A simplification of this ordeal was the trial by the Eucha- rist, which indeed may be regarded as bearing a similar re- lation to all the forms of ordeal, as its administration was invariably a portion of the preparatory ceremony, with the awful adjuration, Corpus hoc et sanguis Domini nostri Jesu Christi sit vobis ad probationem hodie! The general use of the sacrament to lend authority and solemnity to trans- actions, and the binding force it was thought to give to trea- ties, agreements, and the testimony of witnesses, might seem to remove it in its simplicity from among the list of ordeals proper, were it not for the superstition of the age which be- lieved that, when the consecrated wafer was offered under ap- propriate invocations, the guilty could not receive it, or that, if it were taken, immediate convulsions and speedy death, or some other miraculous manifestation, ensued. This is well illustrated by a form of exorcism preserved by Mansi: We humbly pr~my thy Infinite Majesty that this priest, if guilty of the accusation, shall not be able to receive this ven- erated body of thy Son, crucified for the salvation of all, and that what should be the remedy of all evil shall prove to him hurtful, full of grief and suffering, bearing with it all sorrow Ann. 1054, Matthew of Westminster, Ann. 1054, the Chronicles of Croyland, Ann. 1053, Henry of Huntingdon, Ann. 1053, and William of Malmesbury, Lib. II. cap. 13; which shows that the legend was widely spread and generally believed, al- though the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Ann. 1052, and Roger de Hoveden, Ann. 1053, in mentioning Godwins death, make no allusion to its being caused in this manner. No great effort of scepticism is requisite to suggest that Edward, tired of the tu- telage in which he was held, may have made way with Godwin hy poison, and then circulated the story related by the annalists to a credulous generation. * Dooms of Etheired, IX. 22; Cnut, Eccles. Tit. V. I Alium examinis modum, nostro etiamnune s~culo, s~pe malo modo usita- tum. Cod. Legum Antiq. p. 1418. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 77 and bitterness. * What might be expected under such cir- cumstances is elucidated by a case which occurred in the early part of the eleventh century, as reported by Rodolphus Glaber, a contemporary, in which a monk, condemned to undergo the trial, boldly received the sacrament, when the Host, indignant at its lodgment in the body of so perjured a criminal, immediately slipped out at the navel, white and pure as before, to the immense consternation of the accused, who forthwith confessed his crime.f This was usually a sacerdotal form of purgation, as is shown by the Anglo-Saxon laws, 4: and by the canons of the Councils of Tribur and Worms, directing its employment in all cases of ecclesiastics charged with crimes, to relieve them from the necessity of taking oaths. Thus, in 941, Frederic, Archbishop of Mayence, publicly submitted to an ordeal of this kind, to clear himself of the suspicion of having taken part in an unsuccessful rebellion of Henry, Duke of Bavaria, against his brother, Otho the Great. After the death of Henry, slander assailed the fame of his widow, Juthita, on account of an alleged intimacy between her and Abraham, Bishop of Frisingen. When she, too, died, the Bishop per- formed her funeral rites, and, pausing in the mass, he ad- dressed the congregation: If she was guilty of that whereof she was accused, may the Omnipotent Father cause the body and blood of the Son to be my condemnation to just perdi- tion, and perpetual salvation to her soul! after which he took the sacrament unharmed, and the people acknowledged the falsity of their belief. Perhaps the most striking instance recorded of its adminis * Baluz. MiscelL II. 575. t Lib. V. cap. 1. Somewhat similar is the story of a volunteer miracle vouch- safed to an unchaste priest at Lindisfarne, who being suddenly summoned to cele- brate mass without having time to purify himself when he came to partake of the sacramental cup, saw the wine change to an exceeding blackness. After some hesitation he took it, and found it bitter to the last degree. Hurrying to his bishop, he confessed his sin, underwent penance, and reformed his life. (Roger of Wen- dover, Ann. 1051.) f Dooms of Ethelred, X. 20; Onut, Eccies. Tit. V. ~ Ducange, s. v. Eucliaristia. II Reginonis Continuat. Ann. 941. Dithmari Chron. Lib. II. 7* 78 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, tration was, however, in a secular matter, when in 869 it closed the unhappy controversy between King Lothair and his wives, to which reference has already been made. . To reconcile himself to the Church, Lothair took a solemn oath before Adrian II. that he had obeyed the ecclesiastical man- dates in maintaining a complete separation from his pseudo- wife Waldrada, after which the Pontiff admitted him to com- munion, under an adjuration that it should prove the test of his truthfulness. Lothair did not shrink from the ordeal, nor did his nobles, to whom it was given on their declaring that they had not abetted the designs of the concubine; but, leaving Rome immediately afterward, the royal cort~ge was stopped at Placentia by a sudden epidemic which broke out among the courtiers, and there Lothair died, August 8th, with nearly all of his followers, an awful example held out by the worthy chroniclers as a warning to future generations, for he who eats and drinks it unworthily, eats and drinks his own condemnation. * In this degradation of the Host to the level of daily life there was a profanity which could hardly fail to disgust a reverential mind, and we are therefore not surprised to find King Robert the Pious, in the early part of the eleventh cen- tury, raising his voice against its judicial use, and threat- ening to degrade the Archbishop of Seiis for employing it in this manner, especially as his biographer informs us that the custom was daily growing in favor.f Roberts example was soon afterward imitated by Alexander II., who occupied the pontifical chair from 1061 to 10734 The next Pope, how- ever, the impetuous Hildebrand, made use of it on a memo- rable occasion, and in a manner productive of lasting results. When in 1077 the unhappy Emperor Henry IV. had endured the depths of humiliation before the arrogant Pontiffs castle gate at Canosa, and had at length purchased peace by sub- mitting to all the exactiorfs demanded of him, the excommu- nication under which he. had lain was removed in the chapel. * Regino, Ann. 869; Annal. Bertiniani. But let a man examine himselg and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup, for he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himseli not discerning the Lords body.1 Corinth. xi. 28, 29. I Helgaldi Epitome Vitu Roherti Regis. ~ Duclos, M~moire sur les I~preuves. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 79 Then Gregory, referring to the crimes imputed to himself by the Emperors partisans, said that he could easily refute them by abundant witnesses; but lest I should seem to rely rather on human than divine testimony, and that I may remove from the minds of all, by immediate satisfaction, every scruple, behold this body of our Lord which I am about to take. Let it be to me this day a test of my innocence, and may the Omnipotent God this day by his judgment ab- solve me of the accusations if I am innocs~nt, or let me perish by sudden death, if guilty! Swallowing the wafer, he turned to the Emperor, and demanded of him the same refutation of the charges urged against him by the German princes. Appalled by this unexpected trial, Henry in an agony of fear evaded it, and, trembling, consulted hurriedly with his councillors how to escape the awful test. Finally he declined, on the ground of the absence of both his friends and his enemies, without whose presence the result would establish nothing; and thus, to avoid the present danger of his imagination, he promised to submit to a trial by the Impe- rial Diet. By this he lost the results so dearly bought by his sacrifices and humiliations, and perpetuated the civil strife, to put an end to which he had labored and endured so much.* The ordeal of the lot left the decision to pure chance, in the hope that Heaven would interpose to save the innocent and punish the guilty. We may assume that this was exten- sively practised in Pagan times, but that, on the introduction of Christianity, it gradually became obsolete, as the various * Lambert. Schaffnah. Ann. 1077. In estimating the mingled powerof imagi- nation and conscience which rendered the proposal insupportable to the Emperor, we must allow for the influence which a man like Hildebrand with voice and eye can exert over those whom he wishes to impress. At an earlier stage of his career, in 1055, he improvised a very effective species of ordeal, when presiding as Papal legate at the Council of Lyons, assembled for the repression of simony. A guilty Bishop had bribed the opposing witnesses, and no testimony was obtainable for his conviction. Hildebrand addressed him: The episcopal grace is a gift of the Holy Ghost. If, therefore, you are innocent, repeat, Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost! The Bishop boldly commenced, Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to Here his voice failed him, he was unable to finish the sentence; and, confessing the sin, he was deposed. This anecdote rests on good authority. Peter Damien states that he had it from Hildebrand himself, and Calix- tus II. was a witness of the scene. (Fleury, Hist. Ecelds. Liv. LX.) 80 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, modes of appealing to the Deity, which are described above, gradually acquired importance, and threw the less impressive reference to the lot into insignificance. The only allusions to it occur in the earlier laws, and no trace of it is to be met with in the subsequent legislation of any race. Mention of it is made in the Ripuarian code,* and in some of the earlier Merovingian documents its use is prescribed in the same brief manner.f No explanation is given of the details of the pro- cess by which this appeal to fortune was made, and we know of no contemporary applications by which we can investigate its formula; but in the primitive Frisian laws there is de- scribed a singular ordeal of chance, which may reasonably be assumed to bear some relation to it. When a man was killed in a chance-medley and the murderer remained unknown, the friends had a right to accuse seven of the participants in the brawl. Each of these defendants had then to take the oath of denial with twelve conjurators, after which they were admitted to the ordeal. Two pieces of twig, precisely similar, were taken, one of which was marked with a cross; they were then wrapped up separately in white wool and laid on the altar; prayers were recited, invoking God to reveal the innocence or guilt of the party, and the priest, or a sinless youth, took up one of the bundles. If it contained the marked fragment, the defendants were absolved; if the un- marked one, the guilty man was among them. Each one then took a similar piece of stick and made a private mark upon it; these were rolled up as before, placed on the altar, taken up one by one, and unwrapped, each man claiming his own. The one whose piece was left to the last was pro- nounced guilty, and was obliged to pay the wehr-gild of the murder.f The various modes of ecclesiastical divination, * Ad ignem sea ad sortein se excusare student. Tit. XXXI. 5. I Pactus Chuldeberti et Chlotarii, Ann. 593, 5: Et si duhietas est, ad sortem ponatur. Also 8: Si litus de quo inculpatur ad sortem ambulaverit. As in 4 of the same document the crneum or hot-water ordeal is provided for freemen, it is possible that the lot was reserved for slaves. This, however, is not observed in the Decretio Chlotarii, Ann. 595, 6, where the expression, Si de suspicione incul- patur, ad sortem veniat, is general in its application, without reservation as to station. $ L. Frision. Tit. XIV. 1, 2. This may not improbably be derived from the 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 81 so frequently used in the Middle Age to obtain an insight into the future, sometimes assumed the shape of an appeal to Heaven to decide questions of the present or of the past. Thus when three bishops, of Poitiers, Arras, and Autun, each claimed the holy relics of St. Lignaire, and human means were unavailing to reconcile their pretensions, the decision of the Supreme Power was resorted to, by placing under the altar-cloth three slips with their respective names inscribed, and after a becoming amount of prayer, on withdrawing one of them, the See of Poitiers was enriched with the precious remains by Divine favor.* The superstition that, at the approach of a murderer, the body of his victim would bleed, or give some other manifesta- tion of recognition, is one of ancient origin, and in some coun- tries it has been made a means of invesfigation and detection. Shakespeare introduces it in King Richard III., where Gloster interrupts the funeral of Henry VI., and Lady Anne ex- claims: 0 gentlemen, see, see! dead Henrys wounds Open their congealed mouths and bleed afresh. The story is well known which relates that, when Richard Cceur-de-Lion hastened to the funeral of his father, Henry II., and met the procession at Fontevraud, the blood poured from the nostrils of the dead king, whose end he had hastened by his disobedience and rebellion.j- The belief in this, as also in the ordeal of fire, is well illustrated in the ballad of Earl Richard, given by Scott in The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Put na the wite on me, she said; It was my may Catherine.~ Then they hae cut haith fern and thorn, To burn that maiden in. It wadna take upon her cheik, Nor yet upon her chin; Nor yet upon her yellow hair, To cleanse that deadly sin. mode of divination practised among the ancient Germans, as described by Tacitus, De Moribus German. Cap. X. * Baidricus, Lib. I. Chron. Camerac. cap. 21. (Ducange, s. v. Sors.) t Roger de Hoveden, Ann. 1189; Roger of Wendover. 82 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, The maiden touched that clay-cauld corpse, A drap it never bled; The ladye laid her band on him, And soon the ground was red. In the notes to this ballad, Scott gives some curious in- stances of the judicial use of this belief, even as late as the seventeenth century. In 1611, suspicion arising as to the mode by which a person had met his death, the body was ex- humed, and the neighborhood summoned to touch it accord- ing to custom. The murderer, whose rank and position placed him above implication, kept away; but his little daughter, attracted by curiosity, happened to approach the corpse, when it commenced bleeding, and the crime was proved. In another case, which occurred in 1687, the indictment sets forth that blood rushed from the mouth and nostrils of the deceased, who had been found drowned, on being accidentally touched by his son ; and the latter was convicted and executed, although there was little other evidence against him, except a generally bad character. The extent to which the super-. stition was carried is shown by a story of a young man, who quarrelled with a companion, stabbed him, and threw the body into a river. Fifty years passed away, when a bone chancing to be fished up, the murderer, then an old man, happened to touch it, and it streamed with blood. Inquiring where it had been found, he recognized the relic of his crime, confessed it, and was duly condemned. We may trace a more poetic form of this superstition in the touching legend of the wel- come which the bones of Abelard gave to ileloise, when, twenty years after his death, she was consigned to the same tomb. Although there is no allusion to this custom in any of the primitive Leges Barbarorum, nor even in the German municipal code of the thirteenth century, yet it was judicially employed there until the sixteenth century, under the name of Bahr-recht. A variation of it, known as Scheingehen, was practised in the Netherlands and the North, in which the hand of the corpse was cut off, and touched by all suspected persons, with protestations of innocence, and when the guilty one came, it was expected to bleed.* * K6nigswarter, op. cit. p. 183. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 83 Having thus described the various forms in which the com- mon principle of the ordeal developed itself, there are some general considerations connected with it which claim our brief attention. It was thoroughly and completely a judicial pro- cess, ordained by the law for certain cases, and carried out by the tribunals as a regular form of ordinary procedure. From the earliest times, the accused who was ordered to undergo the trial was compelled to submit to it, as to any other decree of court. Thus, by the Salique law, a recusant under such circumstances was summoned to the royal court; and if still contumacious, he was outlawed, and his property confiscated, as was customary in all cases of contempt.* The directions of the Codes, as we have seen, are generally pre- cise, and admit of no alternative. Occasionally, however, a privilege of selection was afforded between this and other modes of compurgation, and also between the various forms of ordeal.j- The circumstances under which its employment was or- dered varied considerably with the varying legislations of races and epochs; and to enter minutely into the question of the power of the court to decree it, or the right to demand it by the appellant or the defendant, would require too much space, especially as it has already been discussed at some length with regard to the kindred wager of battle, in a previous number of this journal. Suffice it to say, that the absence of satisfac- tory testimony, rendering the case one not to be solved by human means alone, is frequently alluded to as a necessary * That this was a settled practice, is shown by its existence in the earliest text of the law (Tit. LVI.), as well as in the latest (L. Emendata, Tit. LIX.). It is there- fore difficult to understand how Montesquieu could have overlooked it, when, in order to establish his theory that the original Frankish institutions admitted no negative proofs, he asserts with regard to the ordeal that Cette preuve dtoit une chose de convention, que la loi sonifroit, mais quelle nordonnoit pas (Esp. des Loix, Lib. XXVIII. chap. 16), a statement contradicted by all the monuments, historical and juridical, of the period. His only proof is a somewhat curious cus- tom of the Salien Franks, to which we shall shortly have occasion to refer. t Et eligat accusatus alterutrum quod velit, sive simplex ordalium, sive jusju- randum unius libre in tribus hundredis super xxx. den. Legg. Henrici I. Cap. LXV. 3. By the municipal codes of Germany, a choice between the various forms of ordeal was sometimes allowed to the accused who was sentenced to undergo it. Jur. Provin. Alaman. Cap. XXXVII. ~ 15, 16; Jur. Provin. Saxon. Lib. I. Art. 39. 84 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, element ; * and indeed we may almost assert that this was so, even when not specifically mentioned, as far as regards the discretion of the tribunal to order an appeal to the judgment of God. At the same time, numerous examples among those we have described authorize us to conclude that an offer on the part of the accused was rarely refused, even when there was strong evidence against him. In civil cases, we may assume that absence of testimony, or the consent of both parties, was requisite to its employment.j- The comfort which the system must have afforded to indolent judges in doubtful cases is well exhibited by a rule in the ancient Custom of Nor- mandy of the thirteenth century, by which a man suspected of crime, even though no accuser came forward, was thrown into prison and kept there until he cleared himself by the ordeal of water. f A rule for its employment which was extensively adopted was that which allowed the accused the privilege of compurga- tion with conjurators, in certain cases, only requiring him to submit to the ordeal on his failing to procure the requisite number of sponsors. Thus, in 794, a certain Bishop Peter, who was condemned by the Synod of Frankfort to clear him- self, with two or three conjurators, of the suspicion of com- plicity in a conspiracy against Charlemagne, being unable to obtain them, one of his vassals offered to pass through the ordeal in his behalf, and on his success the Bishop was reinstated. That this was strictly in accordance with usage, is shown by a very early text of the Salique Law, as well * Si certa probatio non fuerit. L. Sal. Tit. XIV., XVI. (MS. Guelferhyt.) The same is found in the Pactus Childeberti et Chlotarii, 5, Decret. Chlo- tarii II. Ann. 595, 6. Capit. Carol. Calvi, Ann. 870, cap. 3, 7. Cnuti, Constit. de Foresta, 4 11: Sed purgario ignis nullatenus admittatur nisi uhi nuda veritas nequit aliter investigari. Further instances are hardly needed, as the same limita- tion occurs in many of the laws quoted ahove. t Si accolis de neutrius jure constat, adeoque hac in rc testimonium dicere non queant, turn judicio aqutn res decidatur. Jur. Provin. Alaman. Cap. CCLXXVIII. 5. Potent enim alteruter eorum petere probationem per aquarn (wasser urteyll) nec Dominus nec adversarius detrectare possit; sed non, nisi quum per testes probatio fieri nequit. Jur. Feud. Alaman. Cap. LXX VII. 2. ~ Etahlissements de Normandie, Tit. de Prison (I~d. Marnier). 4 Capit. Car. Mag. Ann. 794, 4 7. I Se juratores non potuerit invenire, aut ad ineum amhulat ant, etc. MS. Guelferhyt. Tit. XIV. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 85 as by a similar provision in the Ripuarian code.* Among the Anglo-Saxons it likewise obtained, from the time of the earliest allusion to the ordeal occurring in their jurisprudence, down to the period of the Conquest.~ This regulation gives to the ordeal decidedly the aspect of punishment, as it was thus inflicted on those whose guilt was so generally believed that they could find none to stand up with them at the altar as partakers in their oath of denial; and this is not the only circumstance which leads us to believe that it was frequently so regarded. The graduated scale of single and triple ordeals for offences of different magnitudes is so totally at variance with the theory of miraculous inter- position to protect innocence and punish guilt, that we can only look upon it as a mode of inflicting graduated punish- ments in doubtful cases, thus holding up a certain penalty in terrorem over those who would otherwise hope to escape by the secrecy of their crime, no doubt with a comforting con- viction, like that of IDe Montforts priestly adviser at the sack of Beziers, that Heaven would know its own. Further evidence is afforded by the principle, interwoven in various codes, by which a first crime was defensible by conjurators, or other means, while the tiht-bysig man, the homo infama- tus, one of evil repute, whose character had been previously compromised, was denied this privilege, and was forced at once to the hot iron or the water. Thus among the Anglo- Saxons, in the earliest allusion to the ordeal by Edward the Elder, it is provided that perjured persons, or those who had once been convicted, should not be deemed thereafter oath- worthy, but be hurried to the ordeal, a regulation repeated with some variations in the laws of Ethelred, Cnut, and Henry 14 In the German municipal law of the thirteenth * Quod si juratores invenire non potuerit, ad ignem seu ad sortem se excusare studeat. L. Ripuar. Tit. XXXI. 5. t Dooms of Edward the Elder, Cap. III. So also in the Laws of William the Conqueror, Tit. I. Cap. XIV. Si sen escundira sei duzime main. E si ii auer nes pot, si sen defende par juise. The collection known by the name of Henry I. has a similar provision, Cap. LXVI. 3. ~ Ut deinceps non sint digni juramento sed ordalio. Legg. Edwardi, Cap. III.; Ethelredi, Cap. I. 1; Cnuti Sneul. Cap. XXII, XXX.; Henrici I. Cap. LXV. 3. VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 8 86 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, century, the same principle is observed. An officer of the mint issuing false money was permitted the first time to swear to his ignorance, but on a second offence he had to submit to the ordeal; and it was similarly enjoined on those who had become infamous on account of a previous conviction of theft.* In the legislation of Charlemagne, there is a curious provision, by which a man convicted seven times of theft was no longer allowed to escape on payment of a fine, but was forced to undergo the ordeal of fire. If he succumbed, he was put to death; if he escaped unhurt, he was not discharged as inno- cent, but his lord was allowed to enter bail for his future good behavior,t a mode at once of administering punish- ment and of ascertaining whether his death would be agree- able to Heaven. When we thus regard it as a penalty on those who by misconduct had forfeited the confidence of their fellow-men, the system loses a part of its absurdity, in pro- portion as it departs from the principle under which it was established. There is also another aspect in which we feel confident that the ordeal was viewed by those whose common sense must have shrunk from it simply as an appeal to the judgment of God. There can be little doubt that it was frequently found of material use in extorting confession or unwilling testimony. By the early codes, as in the primitive Greek and Roman law, torture could be applied only to slaves, and the ordeal was a legalized torture, applied under circumstances peculiarly pro- vocative of truth. In those ages of faith, the professing Chris- tian, conscious of guilt, must indeed have been hardened, who could undergo the most awful rites of his religion, pledging his salvation on his innocence, and knowing under such cir- cumstances that the direct intervention of Heaven could alone save him from having his hand boiled to rags4 after * Jur. Provin. Alaman. Cap. CLXXXVI. ~ 4, 6, 7; Cap. CCCLXXIV.; Jur. Provin. Saxon. Lib. I. Art. 39. t Capit. Car. Mag. III. Ann. 813, cap. 46. ~ The severity of the ordeal, when the sufferer had no friends among the opera- tors to save him, may he deduced from the description of a hand when released from its three days tying up after its plunge into hot water; inflatam admodum et excoriatam sanieque jam carrie putrida effluentem dexteram invitus ostendit. (Ducange, s. v. Aquce Ferv. Judiciurn.) Iri this case the sufferer was the adversary of an abbey, of which the monks perhaps had the boiling of the kettle. 1859.] JTJDICIAL ORDEALS. 87 which he was to meet the full punishment of his crime, and perhaps in addition lose a member for the perjury committed. With such a prospect, all motives would conspire to lead him to a prompt and frank acknowledgment in the early stages of the proceedings against him. Our conclusions with regard to this point are strengthened by the fact that when the judicial use of torture, as a means of obtaining testimony and con- fession, was becoming systematized and generally employed, the ordeal was falling into desuetude and rapidly disappear- ing. The latter had fulfilled its mission, and the former was a substitute better fitted for an age which reasoned more, believed less, and at the same time was quite as arbitrary and violent as the preceding. A further confirmation of this sup- position is afforded by the coincidence, that the only primitive jurisprudence which excluded the ordeal that of the Wisi- goths was likewise the only one which habitually permitted the use of torture.* There are two peculiarities of the system, perhaps worth al- luding to, which may be thought to militate somewhat against our theory of its use. The one is the permission sometimes accorded to put forward substitutes or champions, who dared the fire or water as freely as the field of single combat. Of this custom we have already given incidentally so many ex- amples, that further instances would be superfluous, and we would only add, that it is nowhere permitted as a general rule by any code, except in the case already quoted of the ordeal of the cross, where it was a privilege accorded to the old or infirm, and probably only as a local custom. That a person rich enough to purchase a substitute, or powerful enough to force some unhappy follower or vassal to take his place, should obtain a favor not generally allowed, is a matter of course in the formative stages of society; accordingly it will be observed that all the instances of the kind mentioned above relate to those whose dignity or station may well have rendered them exceptional. * An epistle attributed both to Stephen V. and Sylvester II. shows that the or- deal was evidently regarded as a torture by those whose enlightenment enabled them to condemn the popular faith in it as a superstition: Fern candentis vel aqn~ ferventis examinatione confessionem extorqueni a quolibet, sacri non censuerunt canones, et quod sanctorum Patrum documento sancitum non est, superstitiosa ad- inventione non est prtnsumendum. lyon. Cannot. Epist. 74. 88 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, The other objection to our hypothesis is that to some extent the common ordeal was a plebeian process, while the patri- cians arrogated to themselves the wager of battle. This dis- tinction, however, hardly existed before the rise of feudalism gave all privileges to those who were strong enough to seize them, and even then it was by no means universal. We have already seen, that although in the early part of the eleventh century the Emperor Henry II. undoubtedly promulgated such a rule, yet that Glanville a hundred and fifty years later considers the red-hot iron as noble, and that in the thirteenth century the feudal law of Germany prescribes the wasser- urteyll for territorial disputes between gentlemen. In the earlier codes the distinction is unknown, except that the Ri- puarian Franks reserved the ordeal for strangers and slaves, so that we are justified in assuming that no general princi- ples can be deduced from a regulation so late in its appear- ance and so uncertain in its application. The degree of confidence really inspired by the results of the ordeal is a somewhat curious subject of speculation, and one on which definite opinions are not easily reached. Ju- dicially, the trial was conclusive; the man who had duly sunk under water, walked unharmed among the burning shares, or withdrawn an unblistered hand from a caldron of legal temperature, stood forth among his fellows as innocent. So the verdict of twelve fools in a jury-box may even now discharge a criminal, against the plainest dictates of common sense; but in neither case, perhaps, would the sentiments of the community be changed by the result. The reverential feelings which alone could impart faith in the system seem scarcely compatible with the practice of compounding for or- deals, by which a man was permitted to buy himself off, by settling the matter with his accuser. This mode of adjust- ment was not extensively introduced, but it nevertheless ex- isted among the Anglo~Saxons,* while among the Franks it was a settled custom, permitted by all the texts of the Salique Law, from the earliest to the latest.j- Charlemagne in the * Dooms of .iEthclstan, I. cap. 21. t First Text, Tit. LIII. and L. Emend. Tit. LV. A person condemned by the court to undergo the ordeal could, by a transaction with the aggrieved party, par- JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 89 1859.] earlier portion of his reign does not seem to have entertained much respect for th.e judgment of God when he prescribed the administration of the ordeal for trifling affairs only, cases of magnitude being reserved for the regular investigation of the law.* Thirty years later, the public mind appears afflict- ed with the .same doubts, for we find the monarch endeavor- ing to enforce confidence in the system by his commands.f How far he succeeded in this difficult attempt, we have no means of ascertaining; but a rule of English law, four hun- dred years later, during the expiring struggles of the practice, would show that it was regarded as by no means conclusive, when a malefactor who had established his innocence by hot water or iron obtained thereby only a commutation of pun- ishment, and was forced to leave the kingdom in perpetual exile. ~ There is also evidence that the manifest injustice of the results obtained not unfrequently tried the faith of believ- ers, to a point which required the most ingenious sophistry for an explanation. When in 1127 the sacrilegious murder of Charles the Good, Earl of Flanders, sent a thrill of horror throughout Europe, Lambert of ZRedenburg, whose participa- tion in the crime was notorious, succeeded in clearing himself by the hot iron. Shortly afterward he undertook the siege chase the privilege of clearing himself by canonical compurgation, and thus escape the severer trial. He was hound to payhis accuser only a portion of the fine ~vhich he would incur if proved guilty, a portion varying with different offences from one fourth to one sixth of the welir-giid. The interests of the tribenal were guard- ed by a clanse which compelled him to pay to the grafio, or judge, the full fre- darn, or pnhlic fine, if his conscience impelled him to submit to an arrangement for more than the legal percentage. It is on this custom that Montesquieu relies for proof of his theory of the absence of negative proofs in the Frankish jurispru- dence. The fallacy of the argument is further shown by the existence of a similar privilege in the English laws, with which the learned jurist endeavors to establish a special contrast. * Quod si accusatus contendere voluerit de ipso perjurio stent ad crucem Hoc vero de minoribus rebus. De majoribus vero, aut de statu ingenuitatis, secun- dum legem custodiant. Capit. Car. Mag. Ann. 779, cap. 10. That this was re- spected as law in force, nearly a hundred years later, is shown by its being included in the collection of Capitularies by Benedict the Levite. Lib. V. cap. 196. I Ut omnes judicio Dei credant absque dubitatione. Capit. Car. Mag. I. Ann. 809, cap. 20. Constitutio quidem talis fuit, quod quamvis aliquis se purgaret judicio aqu~ vel ignis, hic nihilominus regnum abjuraret. Bracton, Lib. 111. Tract. II. Cap. XVI. 43. 8* 90 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, of Ostbourg, which he prosecuted with great cruelty, and was killed in a sally of the besieged. The pious Galbert assumes that Lambert, notwithstanding his guilt, escaped at the ordeal in consequence of his humility and repentance, and philo- sophically adds: Thus it is that in battle the unjust man is killed, although in the ordeal of water or of fire he may escape, if truly repentant. * The same doctrine was enun- ciated under John Cantacuzenes, in the middle of the four- teenth century, by a Bishop of Didymoteichus in Thrace. A frail fair one being violently suspected by her husband, the ordeal of hot iron was demanded by him. In this strait she applied to the good Bishop, and he, being convinced of her repentance and intention to sin no more, assured her that in such a frame of mind she might safely venture on the trial, and she accordingly carried the glowing bar triumphantly twice round the Bishops chair, to the entire satisfaction of her lord and master.t In fact, as the result depended at all times upon those who administered the ordeal, it con- ferred an irresponsible power to release or to condemn, and it would be expecting too much of human nature to sup- pose that men did not yield frequently to the temptation to abuse that power. The injustice thus practised must often have shaken the most robust faith, and this cause of disbelief would receive additional strength from the fact that the result itself was not seldom in doubt, victory being equally claimed by both parties. Of this we have already seen examples in the affairs of the lance of St. Andrew and of the Archbishop of Milan, and somewhat similar is an incident related by the Bollandists in the life of St. Swithin, in which, by miracu- lous interposition, the opposing parties beheld entirely differ- ent effects resulting from an appeal to the red-hot iron4 Efforts of course were made from time to time to preserve the purity of the appeal, and to secure impartiality in its ap- plication. Clotair II. in 595 directs that three chosen persons * Yit. Carol. Comit. Flandren. Cap. XX. I Collin de Plancy, op. cit. s. v. Fer Chaud. ~ Enimycro minim fuit ultra modum, quod fautores arsuram at inflationem conspiciebant; criminatores ita sanam ejus videbaut palmam, quasi penitus fulvum non tetigisset ferrum. (Ducange, s. v. Arsura.) 1~859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 91 shall attend on each side to prevent collusion ; * and among the Anglo-Saxons, some four hundred years later, Ethelred enjoins the presence of the prosecutor under penalty of loss of suit and fine of twenty ores, apparently for the same object, as well as to give authenticity to the decision.j- These regu- lations show that the evils were felt and complained of, but we may reasonably hesitate to believe thj~t the remedies were effectual. The Church was not a unit in its relations to the ordeal. During the earlier periods, indeed, no question seems to have been entertained as to the propriety of the practice; it was sanctioned by councils, and administered by ecciesiastics, and, as we have seen, numerous formulas of prayers and adjura- tions were authoritatively provided for all the different varie- ties in use. This unanimity was, however, soon disturbed. At the commencement of the sixth century, Avitus, Bishop of Vienne, remonstrated freely with Gundobald on account of the prominence given to the battle-ordeal in the Burgun- dian code, and some three centuries later St. Agobard, Arch- bishop of Lyons, attacked the whole system in two powerful treatises, which in many points display a breadth of view and clearness of reasoning far in advance of his age. J Soon after, Leo IV., about the middle of the ninth century, condemned it in a letter to the English bishops; some thirty years later, Stephen V. repeated the disapproval; in the tenth century, Sylvester II. opposed it, and succeeding pontiffs, such as Al- exander II. and Alexander III., in vain protested against it. In this, the chiefs of the Church placed themselves in oppo- sition to their subordinates. No ordeal could be conducted without priestly aid, and the frequency of its employment, which has been seen above, shows how little the Papal ex- hortations were respected by the ministers of the Church. Nor were they contented with simple disregard; defenders were not wanting to pronounce the ordeal in accordance with the Divine law, and it was repeatedly sanctioned by provincial * Ad utramque partem sint ternas personas electas, ne conludius fieri possit. Decret. Chlotharii II. Cap. VII. t Etheired, III. 4. ~ The Liber adversus Legem Gundobadi and Liber contra Judicium Dei. 92 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, synods and councils. llincmar, Archbishop of Rheims, lent to it all the influence of his commanding talents and position; the Council of Mayence in 888, and that of Tribur near May- ence in 895, recommended it; that of Elne in 1065 recognized it; Burckhart, Bishop of Worms, whose collection of canons is still an authority, in 1023 assisted at the Council of Selingen- stadt, which directed its employment. In the twelfth century q we find St. Bernard alluding approvingly to the conviction of heretics by the cold-water process,* of which Guibert de Nogent gives us an instance in which he aided the Bishop of Soissons in administering i~ to two backsliders with the most complete success.-j- Prelates were everywhere found granting charters containing the privilege of conducting trials in this manner, and even so eminent a canonist as St. Yves of Chartres, as late as 1100, while insisting that ecelesiastics en- joyed immunity from it, admitted that the incredulity of man- kind sometimes required an appeal to the decision of Heaven, even though such appeals were not commanded by the Divine law. j: Pope Calixtus II. himself, about the same period, gave his sanction to the system, in the Council of iRheims, in 1119. This discrepancy is easily explained. During the ninth and tenth centuries the chair of St. Peter was occupied too often by men whose more appropriate sphere of action was the brothel or the arena, and the influence of the Papacy was feeble in the extreme. The Eternal City was civilly and morally a lazar-house, and the Popes had too much to do in maintaining themselves upon their tottering thrones, to have * Examinati judicio aqu~ mendaces inventi sunt aqua eos non suscipi- cute. In Cantica, Sermo 66. (Amelihon.) t Dc Vita sua, Lib. III. cap. 18. ~ Herbert, Bishop of Mans, was accused by Henry I. of England of endeavoring to betray that city to its former master, and was ordered to prove his innocence by the ordeal of hot iron. Yves assured him (Epist. 74) that no law or custom required it of an ecclesiastic, and we may presume that churchmen knew too mnch of it to trust themselves to it, except where the management was iu their own hands. Yves, how- ever, allows it for laymen. Non negamus tamen quin ad divina aliquando recur- rendum sit testimonia quando, pra~ccdcnte ordinaria accusatione, omnino desunt humana testimonia: non quod lex hoc instituerit divina, sed quod exigat incredulitas humana. Epist. 252. And again: Vel, si id facere non potent, eandentis fern examinatione innocentiam suam comprobet. Si h~uc causa apud me ita ventilaretur, ita cam vellem tractari. Epist. 249. 4 Ducange, a. v. Judicium probabile. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 93 leisure or inclination for combined and systematic efforts to extend their power. The Italian expeditions of Otho the Great brought Italy out of the isolation into which it had fallen for nearly a century, and under the auspices of the Emperors the character of the Pontiffs improved, as their circle of influence widened. At length such men as Gregory VII. and Alexander III. were able to claim supremacy over both temporal and spiritual affairs, and, after a long resistance on the part of the great body of ecelesiastics, the tiara triumphed over the mitre. During this period, the clergy found in the administration of the ordeal a source of power and profit which naturally rendered them unwilling to abandon it at the Papal mandate. There were fees to be received for its honest,* bribes for its dishonest application; chartered privi- leges existed in favor of churches and monasteries by which they derived a certain revenue, and the holy relics in their keeping were rendered a source of gain considerably greater than that which accrued merely from the devotion of the faithful.t It afforded the means of awing the laity, by ren- dering the priest a special instrument of Divine justice, into whose hands every man felt that he was at any moment liable to fall; and even worse uses were sometimes made of the irresponsible power thus intrusted to unworthy ministers. From the Acts of the Third Council of Lateran, in 1179, we learn authoritatively that the extortion of money from inno- cent persons by its instrumentality was a notorious fact4 a * For instance, in a charter granted to the Vicar of Bourges, we find the follow. ing heavy payments enumerated as customary in such cases: Qui judiciuni portaverit, erit in custodia vicarii, et hahebit vicarius ex illo pro custodia 20 den. et si portaverit judicium, et locutus fucrit, emendahit 30 sol. (Ducan~,e, s. v. Judicium Portare.) t Charters of this nature are almost too numerous to require more than an allusion. We may however quote one or two examples. Thus Thibaut the Great of Champagne, in 1148, grants to the church of St. Mary Magdalen of Chateaudun the exclusive privilege of administering the necessary oaths on such occasions Ne alicui liceret exhihere sancta ad sacramenta juranda in villa Castriduni pra~ter ministris prnfat~n ecclesia3, omnibus duellis vel sacramentis, etc. (IDucange, s. v. Adrainire.) From Spelman we take the following, hy which Henry ILL., in 1227, granted to the monks of Semplingham the right to hold the ordeal, among other jurisdictions: Haheant curiam suam et justitiam, cum saka er soka et thol Ct theam et ordell et orest, etc. $ Appendix, Part II. can. 3,11. (Ducange, s. v. Ignis.) 94 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, testimony confirmed by Ekkehardus Junior, who, a century earlier, makes the same accusation, and moreover inveighs bitterly against the priests who, to gratify the vilest instincts, were in the habit of exposing women to the ordeal of cold water, that they might strip them for the purpose. * At length, when the Papal authority reached its culmi- nating point, a vigorous and sustained effort to abolish the whole system was made by Alexander III., Innocent III., and ilonorius III., who occupied the pontifical throne from 1191 to 1227. Under Innocent, the Fourth Council of Lateran, in 1215, formally forbade the employment of any ecclesiastical ceremonies in such trials; f and as the moral influence of the ordeal depended entirely upon its religious associations, a strict observance of this canon must speedily have swept the whole system into oblivion. It was actively followed up by the Papal legates in various countries, and the effect was soon discernible. In England, a rescript of Henry III., dated January 27, 1219, directs the judges then starting on their circuits to employ other modes of proof, cum prohibi- tum sit per Ecclesiam Romanam judicium ignis et aqua~. ~ Some few charters and confirmations dated some years sub- sequently allude to the privilege of administering it; but Matthew of Westminster, when enumerating, under date of 1250, the remarkable events of the half-century, specifies its abrogation as one of the occurrences to be noted, and we may conclude that thenceforth it was practically abandoned throughout the kingdom. This is confirmed by the fact that Bracton, writing about the same time, refers only to the wager of battle as a legal procedure, and, when alluding to other forms, speaks of them as things of the past. Nearly contemporary was the Neapolitan Code, promulgated in 1221 * Holophernicos Presbyteros, qui animas hominum carissime appreciatas vendant; fterninas nudatas aquis ililmergi impudicis oculis curiose perspiciant, aut grandi se pretio redimere cogant. De Casibus S. Galli, Cap. XIV. t Cap. 15 enjoins on every ecclesiastic, ne purgationi aqua~ ferventis vel frigidt~, seu fern candentis ritum cujuslibet benedictionis seu consecrationis impendat. (Ducange, s. v. Aquce Prig. .Jud.) Spelman, Gloss. s. v. Judicium. Prohibitum est judicium quod fieni consuevit per ignem et per aquam. Mat. Westmon. Ann. 1250. 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 95 by authority of the Emperor Frederic II., in which he not only prohibits the use of the ordeal in all cases, but ridicules, in a very curious passage, the folly of those who could place confidence in it.* We may conclude, however, that this was not effectual in eradicating it; for, fifty years later, Charles of Anjou found it necessary to repeat the injunction.f About the same time, Waldemar II. of Denmark, ilakonsen of Ice- land and Norway, and soon afterward Birger Jarl of Sweden, followed the example4 In France, we find no formal abro- gation promulgated; but the contempt into which the system had fallen is abundantly proved by the fact, that in the ordi- nances and books of practice issued during the latter half of the century, such as the Etablissements of St. Louis, the Conseil of Pierre de Fontaines, the Coutumes du Beauvoisis of Beaumanoir, and the Livres de Jostice et de Plet, its existence is not recognized even by a prohibitory clause, the judicial duel thenceforward monopolizing the province of irregular evidence. Germany was more tardy in its pro- gress; for in 1279 we find the Council of Buda obliged to repeat the interdiction uttered by that of Lateran. Don Jayme I. of Aragon, in 1248, abolished it in his revision of the constitution of Majorca; but on the mainland the march of enlightenment was slower, if Spelmans citation be correct, of a council in 1320 which threatened with excommunication all concerned in administering the ordeal of fire or of water. * Leges qu~ a quibusdam simplicibus sunt dicta~ paribiles pra~sentis nostri nominis sanctionis edicto in perpetuum inhibentes, omnibus regni nostFi judicibus, ut nullus ipsas leges paribiles, qu~ absconsa~ a veritate deberent potius nuncupari, aliquibus fidelibus nostris indicet Eorum etinim ~ensum non tam corrigendum duximus quam ridendurn, qul naturalem candentis fern calorem tepescere, imo (quod est stultius) fri~,escere, nulla justa causn superveniente, con- fidunt; nut qui ream criminis constitutum, ob conscientiam itesam tantum asserunt ab aqute frigid~ elemento non recipi, quem submergi potius aeris competentis retentio non permittit. Constit. Sicular. Lib. II. Tit. 31. This last clause would seem to allude to some artifice of the operators by which the accused was prevented from sinking, in the coid-water ordeal, when a conviction was desired. t Statut. MSS. Caroli I. Cap. XXII. (Ducange, s. v. Lex Parib.) ~ K6nigswarter, op. cit. p. 176. 4 Ducange, s. v. Judicium Probabile. I Pro aliqno crimine vel delicto, vel demanda, non facietis nohiscum vel cum hajulo ant curia civitatis, nec inter vos ipsos, hatalam per ferrum calidum, per hominem nec per aquam, vel aliam ullam rem. (Ducange, s. v. Batalia.) Gloss. s. v. Purgatio. 96 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, Although the ordeal was thus removed from the admitted jurisprudence of Europe, the principles of faith which had given it vitality were too deeply implanted in the popular mind to be at once eradicated, and accordingly, as we have seen above, instances of its employment continued occasion- ally for several centuries to disgrace the tribunals. The ordeal of battle, indeed, was not legally abrogated until long afterward; but as this forms no part of our present theme, we shall not follow its history, contenting ourselves with an extract from Sir William Staundford, a learned judge and respectable legal authority, who, in 1557, expresses the same confident expectation of Divine interference which had ani- mated Hincmar or Poppo. After stating that in an accusa- tion of felony, unsupported by evidence, the defendant had a right to wager his battle, he proceeds: Because in that the appellant demands judgment of death against the appellee, it is more reasonable that he should hazard his life with the defendant for the trial of it, than to put it on the country, and to leave it to God, to whom all things are open, to give the verdict in such case, scilicet, by attributing the victory or vanquishment to the one party or the other, as it pleaseth llim.~~* The Papal authority, however, was not the only element at work to abolish this superstition. A powerful assistant must be recognized in the rise of the communes, whose sturdy common sense not unfrequently rejected its absurdity. Ac- cordingly we find that it is rarely comprehended in their char- ters, as it is in those granted to abbeys and monasteries, while occasionally a special exemption is alluded to as a privilegq.t The influence of the commercial and municipal spirit, fostered by the establishment of chartered towns, in dissipating the mists of error and prejudice, is further shown by the fact, that the early codes of the Commercial Law make no reference whatever to the proof by ordeal, though some of those codes were drafted at a period when it was a recognized portion of * Plees del Corone, Chap. XV. (quoted in 1 Barnewall & Alderson, 433). t An instance of this occurs as early as 1132, in a charter granted hy King Roger of Naples to the inhahitants of Ban: Ferrum cacavum, pugnam, aquam, vobis non judicahit vel judicari faciet. (Muratori, Antiq. Ital., Dissert. 38.) 1859.] JUDICIAL ORDEALS. 97 ordinary jurisprudence. The Roles dOl~ron, the Laws of Wisby, and the Consulat de la Mer, endeavor to regulate all questions by the reasonable rules of evidence, and offer no indication that the judgment of God was resorted to when human means were at fault. Indeed, King Amaury, who ascended the throne of Cyprus in 1194, specifically declares, in a law embodied in the Assises de Jerusalem, that maritime causes are under the jurisdiction of a special court, instead of the ordinary civic tribunal, in order to avoid the battle ordeal permitted by the latter * from which we may safely assume that the other forms of ordeal were equally ignored by the maritime law dispensers. Although we may hail the disappearance of the ordeal as marking an era in human progress, yet should we err in deeming it either the effect or the cause of a change in the constitution of the human mind. The mysterious attraction of the unknown and undefined, the striving for the unattain- able, the yearning to connect our mortal nature with some supernal power, all these mixed motives assisted in main- taining the follies and superstitions which we have described. The mere external manifestations were swept away; but the potent agencies which vivified them remained, not perhaps less active because they worked more secretly. Thus gener- ation after generation of absurdities, strangely affiliated, waits on the successive descendants of man, and perpetuates in another shape the superstition which we had fondly thought eradicated. In its most vulgar and abhorrent form, we recog- nize it in the fearful epidemic of sorcery and witchcraft which afflicted the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ; sublimed to the verge of heaven, we see it reappear in the seraphic theories of Quietism ; descending again towards earth, it assumes the mad vagaries of the Convulsionnaires. In a different guise it leads the refined scepticism of the eighteenth century to a belief in the supernatural powers of the divining- rod, which could not only trace out hidden springs and deep- buried mines, but could also discover crime, and follow the * Por ce que en la cort de la mer Ii a point de bataille por preave ne por demande de celay veage, et en 1 autre con des borgeis deit aveir espreuves par bataille. Baisse Court, Cap. 43. VOL. LXXXIX. NO 184. 9 98 JUDICIAL ORDEALS. [July, malefactor through all the doublings of his cunning fiight.* Each age has its own sins to answer for, its own puerilities to bewail, happiest that which best succeeds in hiding them, for it can scarce do more. Here, in our boasted nineteenth century, when the triumph of human intelligence over the forces of nature, stimulating the progress of material pros- perity with the press, the steam-engine, and the telegraph, has deluded us into sacrificing our psychical to our intellectual being, even here the duality of our nature reasserts itself, and in the obscene blasphemy of Mormonism and in the fantastic follies of pseudo-Spiritualism we see a protest against the despotism of mere reason. If we wonder at these frightful perversions of our noblest attributes, we must remember that the intensity of the reaction measures the original strain, and in the dismal insanities of the day we thus may learn how utterly we have forgotten the Divine warning, Man shall not live by bread alone! Which age shall cast the first stone? When Cicero won- dered how two soothsayers could look at each other without laughing, mirabile videtur quod non rideat haruspex cum haruspicem viderit, he showed that the grosser forms of superstition were not universally shared. Such, we may be assured, has been the case at every period; and, in our own day, can we, who proudly proclaim our disbelief in the absurdities around us, individually assert that we have not contributed, each in his own infinitesimal degree, to the causes which have produced them? * When, in 1692, Jacques Aymar attracted public attention to the miracles of the divining-rod, he was called to Lyons to assist the police in discovering the perpetrators of a mysterious murder, which had completely baffled the agents of justice. Aided by his rod, he traced the criminals, by land and water, from Lyons to Beaucaire, where he found in prison a man whom he declared to be a par- ticipant, and who finally confessed the crime. Aymar was at length proved to be merely a clever charlatan; but the mania to which he gave rise lasted through the eighteenth century, and nearly at its close his wonders were rivalled by a brother sharper, Campetti. 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 99 ART. III. 1. Speeches of Mr. JOHN BRIGHT, M. P., at Birmingham and Manchester, on the Representation of the People. 2. A Letter to Mr. Bright on his Plan for turning the Eng- lish Monarchy into a Democracy. By llExi~Y PRUMMOND. 3. Speech of MR. DISRAELI, Chancellor of the Exchequer, in Explanation of the Reform Bill laid before Parliament by the Government of Lord Derby. IT is the inevitable tendency of a government like that of England, to be more or less absolutely controlled by some one of its elements. At the era of the French Revolution, and for a hundred years previously, as well as during the subse- quent struggle with Napoleon, the aristocracy were the ruling power. But since that period the democratic element has been rising into the chief place, and the control of affairs is surely passing into the hands of the Commons. The Refc~rm Act of 1832 was a severe blow to the ascendency of oligarchi- cal power, and though it is frequently asserted that, since the passage of that memorable bill, the House of Commons has been less distinguished for ability than before, it may be con- fidently affirmed that this has been owing, in large measure, to the fact that the last quarter of a century has not been adapted to develop such political abilities as were stimulated and brought into action by the great events of the previous period. Besides, in judging of the merits and consequences of the Reform Bill, we must consider the ameliorating meas- ures that have since been adopted. Tested by that standard, it must be conceded that the extension of suffrage, and the redistribution of Parliamentary seats by the legislation of 1832, have been productive of immense good. The question now is, Shall the basis of that legislation be still further enlarged? Shall the democratic element in the British Constitution be still further increased in power and influence? One class of British society are in favor of a new reform bill, because they believe that political justice and national well-being alike demand i~. Another class are invincibly op- posed to it, because they see, or think they see, in such a

1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 99 ART. III. 1. Speeches of Mr. JOHN BRIGHT, M. P., at Birmingham and Manchester, on the Representation of the People. 2. A Letter to Mr. Bright on his Plan for turning the Eng- lish Monarchy into a Democracy. By llExi~Y PRUMMOND. 3. Speech of MR. DISRAELI, Chancellor of the Exchequer, in Explanation of the Reform Bill laid before Parliament by the Government of Lord Derby. IT is the inevitable tendency of a government like that of England, to be more or less absolutely controlled by some one of its elements. At the era of the French Revolution, and for a hundred years previously, as well as during the subse- quent struggle with Napoleon, the aristocracy were the ruling power. But since that period the democratic element has been rising into the chief place, and the control of affairs is surely passing into the hands of the Commons. The Refc~rm Act of 1832 was a severe blow to the ascendency of oligarchi- cal power, and though it is frequently asserted that, since the passage of that memorable bill, the House of Commons has been less distinguished for ability than before, it may be con- fidently affirmed that this has been owing, in large measure, to the fact that the last quarter of a century has not been adapted to develop such political abilities as were stimulated and brought into action by the great events of the previous period. Besides, in judging of the merits and consequences of the Reform Bill, we must consider the ameliorating meas- ures that have since been adopted. Tested by that standard, it must be conceded that the extension of suffrage, and the redistribution of Parliamentary seats by the legislation of 1832, have been productive of immense good. The question now is, Shall the basis of that legislation be still further enlarged? Shall the democratic element in the British Constitution be still further increased in power and influence? One class of British society are in favor of a new reform bill, because they believe that political justice and national well-being alike demand i~. Another class are invincibly op- posed to it, because they see, or think they see, in such a 100 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, concession, the transfer of power from the aristocracy to the Commons, and along with it the ultimate overthrow of the distinctive principles of the Constitution. A third class, com- posed of rival parties, yield to it, not because they desire it, but because party exigences demand it. They will concede, however, as little as possible, as much only as will enable them to gain or retain the control of public affairs. We may regard Mr. Bright as a representative of the first class, Mr. Drummond of the second, and Mr. Disraeli of the third. Mr. Bright is a powerful speaker, not an orator, indeed, in the sense in Which Chatham and Mirabeau were orators, but a man who hits hard blows and makes a strong impression. Without much learning, and without systematic culture, he has strong natural abilities, extensive and inti- mate familiarity with the political history of his country since he came upon the stage, indomitable courage, and sturdy independence. He has little reverence for the past, sees things as they are, and is not likely to be misled by illu- sions. His estimate of the British Constitution differs radi- cally from Mr. Burkes. He does not behold in King, Lords, and Commons the triple cord which no man can break; the solemn, sworn, constitutional frank-pledge of this nation; the firm guaranties of each others being and each others rights; the joint and several securities, each in its place and order, for every kind and every quality, of property and of dignity. On the contrary, he has no reverence for the Constitution of England as it now exists. I have no object, he said in his speech at Birmingham, in making these observations, but to show to the people that they have been deluded by the idea that they have a glorious that is, an ex- cellent Constitution. The Constitution of this country, said to be of a King or Crown, Lords, and Commons, is, in fact, an imposture, an imposture which I take it to be a part of my duty to expose. John Foster, speaking of the English Constitution, spoke of it as that canted and extolled humbug. They tell us we owe everything to this Constitution. Now, I deny it altogether. Sentiments of this kind startle such men as Mr. Drnmmond; they sound like the tocsin of revolution. But Mr. Drummond, 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 101 whimsical, mystical, prejudiced, and ab~surd as his pamphlet proves him, though he is described as outspoken and scholarly, is not of force to arrest the movements of this energetic and practical age. He may amuse or annoy an opponent; he may gratify his own spleen, and pander to the spleen of others, by valgar abuse of this country; yet it is not such adversaries that the friends of reform have to dread, but rather those who in reality entertain his opinions, who dislike reform quite as much as he does, and still, with their eyes fixed steadily on office, attempt to delude the country with such a bill as the government of Lord Derby laid before Parliament at the opening of the last session. Mr. Disraeli, with ready speech, versatile talents, supple- ness, and aptitude for affairs, may explain and defend with great show of reason the various provisions of this bill; but it is apparent upon the most cursory examination, that its leading, governing design and principle was, to preserve the ascendency of the aristocratic element in the House of Com- mons. Indeed, Mr. Disraeli vindicates, and with a great deal of ingenuity, this feature of his plan. He utterly rejects the notion that representation should be proportioned either to wealth, to population, or to both combined. His theory of representation regards only what he is pleased to term the in- terests of a country, by which he means classes and opinions.. Men, he says, are sent to this House to represent the opinions of a place, and not its power. Hence it is, that his bill made no provision for a redistribution of seats in the Commons, and preserved, with the exception of a few glaring anomalies, the existing borough system. It did, indeed, ex- tend the privilege of election to a considerable degree, but with such cautious discrimination as to exclude the great body of the working classes. But, even with the utmost ex- tension of the elective franchise, so long as the House of Com- mons is constituted as at present, the result is the same. There are, said Mr. Bright in his speech at Birmingham, there are in the House of Commons at present 330 members (more than half) whose whole number of constituents do not amount to more than 180,000, and there are at the same time in Parliament 24 members, whose constituents are upwards of 200,000 in number; 9* 102 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, and, while the constituents of the 330 members are assessed to the property tax at 15,000,000, the constituents of the 24 members are assessed to the same tax at more than 24,000,000. Now Mr. Disraeli would not only maintain this unjust and unequal distribution of political power, but would make it even more unjust and unequal. By extending the suffrage he increases the disproportion between the constituency of the twenty-four members and the Constituency of the three hun- dred and thirty members, Without any change whatever in the relative number of the representatives. And upon what ground does he defend a scheme like this? Upon the fanci- ful notion that the chief element of representation should be the interests, or, in other words, the classes and opinions of a country, rather than its wealth and population. Admit this, however, to be the correct theory: does it follow that no sort of equality should be observed in fixing the ratio of representation between these various classes or interests? Must the opinions of a score of voters in a midland borough counterbalance the opinions of fifteen or twenty thousand voters in Liverpool or Manchester? Must the political influ- ence of one class, and that the smallest, outweigh the politi- cal influence of all other classes? Must a constituency of 180,000 send 330 members to Parliament as the representa- tives of their opinions, and a constituency of 200,000 send only 24 members to represent theirs? To plain republicans such a scheme of representation appears unjust, so unjust as to be scandalous. That it cannot be much longer maintained is obvious. The Derby government has owed its existence thus far to the lib- eral members; and if that government should be overthrown, and Lord Palmerston again resume office, their support would doubtless be equally necessary to him. Holding this impor- tant position, and resolutely insisting upon a reform of the House of Commons, it is impossible that they should not carry their point. They may not, indeed, obtain in the first in- stance all that they desire; but they will gain vastly more than is proffered by the bill of Mr. Disraeli. Lord Palmers- ton will concede more than Lord Derby; he will be com- pelled, by the exigences of his position as a party leader, to 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 1O~ come forward with a more satisfactory proposition, a propo- sition which, though it may not fully meet the views or wishes of the sincere friends of reform, will be an advanced stage in their progress towards the goal at which they would arrive. Moreover, when it happens, as happen it will, that the great body of the nation is included in the list of electors, and representation is proportioned to population, or to population and property combined, then England becomes, not in theory only, but in practice, a republic, though a republic under a monarchical form. The crown even now is but a pageant, the ornamental plumage of the noble bird, not the feathers that support him in his flight. With a full and impartial representation of the people in the House of Commons, with an hereditary executive and an hereditary Senate or House of Lords, England would possess, according to the ideas of Polybius, a perfect polity. There would be that apt contexture of the three forms of govern- meiit in the general frame which, as he thinks, produces the co-operation, mutual counteraction, and reciprocal control of the parts necessary to constitute a perfect political system. Let the hereditary principle be rejected (as it is likely to be in the progress of time), and the representative principle be substituted for it, England becomes a republic on the plan of our American constitutions. And what is there in this prospect, beyond the loss of power and privilege, that should excite such lively alarm in those whose cause finds a cham- pion in Mr. Drummond? What, in fact, are the characteris- tic influences and effects of democratic institutions? It may be well, at a time like this, when the organs of one class of opinions and interests in England, from the apprehension of being Americanized, assail our republicaii system with studied disparagement and insidious censure, to consider this ques- tion, to refresh and confirm our faith in that government which was contrived by the patriots of the Revolution, and which they fondly believed would preserve the liberties and establish the independence of their country. What, then, are the characteristic influences and effects of democratic insti- tutions? 104 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, We answer, that they give to society a vital impulse and energy which no other description of government has been able to impart. The sense of personal independence and personal consequence which they inspire, raises and devel- ops even the humblest individual. His faculties impose the only limit to his ambition, the only bound to his aims and endeavors. Hence the immense force, the restless exertion, of democratic communities. The ancient republics, what bril- liancy, what activity, in arts, in arms, in philosophy, letters, and industry, characterized all their career! Their achieve- ments in war and in peace have been the admiration of every succeeding age. The prodigious prosperity of the Italian republics, their renown in all the arts that ennoble and embel- lish life, and in all the modes of industry that add to its com- fort and enjoyment, sprang directly from their freedom. While popular institutions thus quicken individual energies, and elevate society in all its constituent classes, they claim at the same time this peculiar praise, that they more fully iden- tify the citizen with the state than any other form of govern- ment, and by this means foster an intense and lofty patriotism. Every man feels himself a part of the commonwealth, and its honor is as dear to him as his own. In monarchies, the habit of loyalty is, without doubt, a powerful tie, a motive which in the hour of peril or trial goes far and does much. But, in all wars except those which are strictly national, and arouse a whole population to the defence of their altars and their fires, it may be confidently affirmed that the citizen of a republic comes forth with more alacrity at the call of his country than the subject of a monarchy. He has more of personal interest in all that concerns the government under which he lives; he is an indirect but influential agent in the administration of its affairs, watches with eager interest its course, and whenever difficulty or danger impends, with some- thing more than a sense of duty or spirit of loyalty, acts boldly and greatly in its service. It is this personal interest and participation in the government of his country that animate and exalt the patriotism of a freeman. In addition to all those ties that inspire love of country, attachment to the land of his birth, the home of his ancestors, and the repository of 1859.] BRITISR STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 105 their ashes, he has a sense of property in, of identification with, all the acts of the state. At the same time, it may be affirmed that popular govern- ments are less prone to war than monarchies. It is said, indeed, that the tastes and qualifications of the many, in all countries and under all systems of polity, lean towards the warlike virtues, and that in free states those tastes and quali- fications can demand scope and employment, and hence wars are precipitated. The ancient republics are cited as an illus- trative example. So far, it is alleged, were personal inde- pendence and personal ambition fostered by their institutions, that war and conquest, the storm and hurricane of life, could alone satisfy them. Undoubtedly, the ancient republics were warlike, and discovered a passion for the excitement and gloi~y of arms; but this was the fault, the characteristic mark of their age, not of their systems of government. In our day, with the votaries of peace numerous and increasing, combined with the powerful classes who in every country are directly interested in its preservation, wars must inevitably become less frequent whenever and wherever these classes exercise a check, a control on government. In democratic states, through public opinion, through the press, and the ballot, they possess this check, this decisive means of enforcing respect for their pacific sentiments. In monarchies, on the contrary, with standing armies, with the military spirit habitu- ally cherished, with the ambition, whims, caprices, and family connections of the monarch, as added motives to war, what wonder is it that the earth so frequently shakes beneath the tread of hostile forces, and drinks up the blood of the bravest and the best? Popular governments are not only less liable to external war than monarchies, but they are less exposed to internal convulsion. There may, indeed, be local and temporary tur- bulence, there may be passionate excitement bursting out into acts of violence; but all this, like the passing wind, only agitates the surface, while the world of waters beneath remains undisturbed. That which shakes the foundations of society, that which precipitates revolutions, has been extinguished in its very germ. Equality of rights and privileges the boon 106 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, so eagerly coveted by mankind is consecrated and insured. By incorporating this principle into the very texture of society, popular governments remove the prevalent cause of civil and revolutionary strife. No class endowed with hereditary politi- cal power or superior immunities stands as a barrier to essen- tial progress. Hence desirable changes are accomplished peacefully through the medium of constitutional forms. In monarchies, on the contrary., when the laws and customs are no longer adapted to existing circumstances, when they inflict even misery and injustice, it is difficult to procure their abrogation without the convulsive struggles of revolution. Those who have been long habituated to a system, who derive all its benefits and feel none of its mischiefs, naturally cling to it. Besides, they dread the consequences of disturbing the existing order of things. Change is denounced and frowned upon, lest, when it begins, it may be hard to restrain it, lest it may slowly, but surely, sap the foundations upon which exclusive privi- lege reposes. All the influence of authority, of confirmed prejudices, of interested fears, is aroused and arrayed against reform. Hence, without other means of redress to the suffer- ing classes, revolution, which~ is among the direst evils that can befall a state, and in the height of its fury tends to involve the whole fabric in one mighty ruin, is called in to achieve that which, under a different system, concurring inter- ests or a provident foresight would naturally have anticipated. It was, as all the world knows, the threat and apprehension of revolution that wrung from the reluctant hands of the English aristocracy the reform legislation of 1832. In a popular government, neither the sympathies nor the interests of the law-makers are bound up with a caste or order, whose power and perpetuity, whose weight and influence in the present and future, are primary objects of concern; but they are identified with the great body of the people, and for weal or woe must partake their fortune. Hence the greatest good of the greatest number is the distinguishing principle of popular legislation. There may be mistakes, there may be rash resolves, in moments of excitement or delusion; but the steady and uniform tendency will be to promote the interests 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 107 and well-being of the greatest possible number. Such being for the most part the evident result, the law comes to have a fixed and firm hold upon the respect and reverence of a free people. In doing homage to law, they do homage to them- selves, the creators and preservers of law. And a state without this reverence for law reposes on a foundation which may indeed last long, but is in danger every moment of sub- version. It may impress the spectator with an idea of durable existence, but while he gazes, the structure may fall to the ground. Whenever, from any cause, the influence upon the imagination and the moral feeling of men which is exerted by long-established institutions, and the adventitious authority which naturally attaches itself to whatever is old, are lost or impaired, there is no other foundation upon which the des- potic legislator can build, except fear, which, Protean in form, may suddenly assume the aspect of ferocity, and avenge its humiliation in the overthrow of all law and all authority. Popular institutions not only inspire a respect for law, but they beget self-respect. Hence, we see in republican states nothing of that servile thraldom of mind which is so apparent in other conditions of society. Manners, indeed, which, as has been finely observed, throw a pleasing illusory charm over human nature, may not be carried to so high a standard of refinement as among the superior classes in monarchies. But manners, however pleasing, however necessary to cover the defects of our naked, shivering nature, may be acquired at too great a sacrifice. It is better to protect and exalt the many, than to bless and adorn the few. It is better to strengthen and enlarge the foundations of the social edifice, than to lavish wealth and splendor upon its higher stories. It is better to cultivate the sentiment of brotherhood, to pour over the surface of society the balsam of charity and kindness, to engage men in common labors, common aims, and com- mon sympathies, than to isolate and separate them by grada- tions of rank. By so doing, there may, indeed, be less lustre, but there will be more harmony, a less showy, but a more happy country. A popular government presupposes not only the removal of all restraints upon the dissemination of knowledge, but the 108 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, adoption of all practicable measures to diffuse it as widely as possible. All authority having its rise and fountain in the people, it can hardly be conceived that they would employ it to put a padlock on their minds, and shut up the sources of information. Besides, participation in the daily affairs of their government opens and enlightens their minds. Such a people must necessarily discover a clearness of understanding, a practical sagacity, a facility in affairs, unequalled. by any other. And while the mass of citizens in democratic states hold this high place in the scale of intelligence, history abun- dantly proves that they also contribute their full quota to the roll of the worlds choice and master spirits. What lustre was diffused around their country by the famous orators, philosophers, statesmen, and soldiers of repub- lican Greece I Recall, too, the history of the modern Italian republics. What talents in every variety were summoned forth to grace and serve the state! In architecture, in sculp- ture, in painting, in poetry, history, and politics, republican Italy produced the great masters whose art and genius en- lightened the darkness of that night which then enveloped the world. But not to confine our view to former times, let us turn our eyes to our own coutitry. Let us see if, as is alleged by our impartial and friendly English critics, the character of our institutions has dwarfed talents, and sunk them to what has been termed the populous host of mediocrity. Scarcely eighty years have gone by since our independence was achieved, and although we have had to encounter the obstacles naturally incident to a new country, and were compelled in the first instance to employ all our energies in recovering from the impoverishment of a long war, yet in letters, in all forms of civil and military ability, we have kept fully abreast of contemporary states which have existed for a thousand years. But, says the leading journal of England, your statesmanship has declined, and declined in consequence of the universal participation of the people in the affairs of your governmeiit; in other words, in consequence of universal suffrage. Pre- cisely the same thing is said of the representation of England in the House of Commons, and the fact is attributed to the 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 109 Reform Bill. We have already adverted to the circumstance, that the political events of the last quarter of a century have not been of a character to stimulate and bring into activity striking political abilities. Those who have shone most con- spicuously in public life during that time, in either country, received their training and impulse in the previous period. That race of our statesmen who came into the national coun- cils just before or just after the second war with England, had to grapple with great questions and imperilled interests, and the excitement and conflict of high debate gave tone and ele- vation to their minds. If our present representation in Con- gress has fallen below their measure, it is not attributable to universal suifrage; but, in good part, to the fact that the pab- ulum of our political life is of a less invigorating nature. We know it is said, and Lord John Russell adopts the no- tion in his recent Life of Fox, that the natural jealousy of a democracy has led the American people to elevate their infe- rior men to the Presidency, in preference to their statesmen of reputation and ability. This as~ertion is altogether unwar- rantable. That it has happened, in one or more instances, that candidates inferior to their competitors in point of talents have been raised to the highest office in our government, may be admitted. But why impute this fact to mean prejudices and unworthy motives? Will Lord John Russell pretend that it would be creditable to an intelligent people to choose for the chief of their state a man whose principles were wholly discordant with their own, merely because he possessed more shining talents than his competitor? Has not his experience taught him that a man may possess great metaphysical, logi- cal, or oratorical abilities, and yet in the administration of public affairs be wanting in wisdom? The opinions of great masses of men on practical questions, affecting their interests, are very apt to be right. The individual, however eminent for talents, may be biased by social habitudes, or local and temporary influences, and thus be deflected from the true policy. If the collective wisdom, therefore, of a people sees what the individual fails to see, if they withhold their suffrages from an eminent personage because of the principles he advo- cates and represents, let it not be said that they are either VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 10 110 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, incapable of discerning his merit, or indisposed, from a spirit of jealousy, to do honor to it. But after all, what member of the house of Hanover, coming to the throne, as Mr. Burke might say, in contempt of popular election, could be compared in point of abilities with the least illustrious name in the roll of our Presidents? It is objected to popular institutions, that they foster a love of gain, and tend to make physical prosperity the goal of their citizens. Mr. Drummond, with facile calumny, declares that they (the Americans) are utterly without private or public honor, and the only people on earth who ever avowed that gain was their sole object in every relationship of life. In what form and through what organs this extraordinary avowal has been made, Mr. Drummond has not thought proper to in- form us. If he means to imply that our actions speak that language, we may be pardoned for applying the same test to his own countrymen. Are the English less moderate in their desire and exertions for gain than ourselves? Are they not emphatically the shop-keeping nation? If it be true, as is affirmed by one of the most charming of their poets, that Honor sinks where commerce long prevails, it ill becomes an Englishman to boast of any superiority on that score. Mr. IDrummond is a scholar, and is, doubtless, familiar with the history of the aristocratic governments of Rome, Carthage, and Venice. As an Englishman and a member of Parliament, the annals of his own country have naturally attracted much of his attention; and he must know that there has never been exhibited by any class of man- kind such rapacity, such eagerness to obtain riches, as by the governing class in aristocratic states. The corruption, the venality, and the jobs that have distinguished and tainted the English government in times past, are matters of familiar history. That the citizens of republics are remarkable for the ardor with which they pursue gain, we do not mean to deny. But they seek it in the paths of business, in adventures by sea and land, not from the influence of a mistress or the favor of a minister. The Athenians, says Thucydides, con 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 111 tinue ever amid labors and dangers, enjoying nothing through sedulity to acquire, esteeming that only a time of festival in which they are prosecuting their projects, and holding rest as a greater evil than the most laborious business.~~ This boundless activity, this inextinguishable love of ex- ertion, is indeed a characteristic distinction of democratic states. It is this which explores the mine, unlocks the secret treasures of the earth, whitens the seas with the canvas of unnumbered ships, diversifies industry, and stimulates intel- lect. Nevertheless, the passion of acquisition among such a people is not more eager than in a different condition of soci- ety; but it is more apparent, because the sources for its grati- fication are more numerous. More avenues are opened, the masses are not shackled by the habit of dependence, are con- scious of their powers, and accustomed to rely on them. Their freedom gives them boldness, confidence, and a spirit of enter- prise. Yet, if eager in acquiring, they are equally liberal in expending wealth. Nowhere is money more freely given for patriotic and beneficent purposes; nowhere do philanthropy and public spirit thrive so well as in republican soil. Indeed, when we contemplate the benefits that flow from this description of polity as from a natural fountain, when we see the immense energies that are developed, and the immense advances that society makes under its auspices, what manly, generous mind would not wish it endued with an inherent strength, and fitted to survive for the good of mankind to the latest ages of the world? But forms of government, like every other contrivance of human wisdom, are mutable, and subject to decay. Time, which defaces the inscription and crumbles the marble, leaves untouched nothing beneath the sun. What is to be the future fortune of our own political system it is vain to conjecture. This much is certain, to preserve our institutions, we must preserve and foster an habitual re- spect for them. Fleets and armies cannot maintain them. The foundations on which they repose are not of material structure. They are based on ideas, and will continue to bless, develop, and accelerate our country on its great career, so long as the principles and sentiments of their founders shall 112 BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. [July, animate their posterity. When these no longer hold sway, the form may indeed survive, but the animating soul of the republic will have departed. It has not escaped observation, that familiarity with Euro- pean society has already led many of our social and literary dilettanti to regard European institutions with no unfavorable eye. The gayety and glitter of foreign courts and capitals have dazzled their imaginations, and they have come to under- value the freedom which has given their country its position among the nations. They might remind us of some rigid Protestant, whose antipathy to IRome would do no discredit to a Presbyterian of the school of Knox; yet who, when he comes to tread the long-drawn aisle of a venerable cathe- dral, covered with the awful hoar of innumerable ages, to listen to the pealing anthem, and to witness the imposing ceremonies of an earlier worship, abandons his life-long con- victions to the illusion of the passing hour. But the great body of our citizens, all those who constitute the strength and ornament of their country, are devoted to its institutions with a warm and earnest attachment. They contemplate the past with pride, they anticipate the future with hope. The strictures that reach them from the Old World, whether clothed in the considerate phrase of a Russell or the envenomed language of a Drummond, do not abate their confidence or disturb their equanimity. They know that a successful republic is a pungent and ever-recurring criticism upon monarchy and aristocracy; that it awakens mankind to reflection, and engenders a love of liberty; that it is, in fine, at once an argument and an example, whose persuasive force summons the nations to demand institutions that shall recognize and guarantee their rights. They are not surprised, therefore, that those whose repose is thus dis- turbed, and whose power and privileges are endangered, should seek to disparage a government whose silent operation is productive of such results. But they are neither so blind nor so prejudiced as not to know that perfection is unattainable in human affairs, and that evils are inseparable from every form of government. They have the sense and sagacity, however, to perceive that, 1859.] BRITISH STRICTURES ON REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS. 113 while there are faults in the details and the practical work- ing of their institutions, they possess excellences peculiar to themselves. It is not occasional irregularity, violence, or m~dadministration, whether state or municipal, resulting in whole or in part from the ordinary machinery, as it were, of their system, that can disaffect them with the general princi- ples on which the system itself is founded. The essence of republicanism does not consist in the ballot and universal suffrage, as many persons seem to suppose. Doubtless, it is in the theory, as it should be in the practice of a republic founded on just principles, that those from whom it is derived, for whose benefit it was established, and whose contributions support it, should, by their suffrages, have the control of it. But every political society necessarily possesses the right of self-protection; and if any portion of its members, from vice or ignorance, from mental or moral defects, are incompetent to take a part in the administration of its affairs, they should be disfranchised. It would be well if our legislators would give a little more heed to this obvious truth. In towns and cities where population is largely concentrated, and where a considerable portion of that population were the former subjects of England, and bred under a system which makes no provision for the instruction of youth, and keeps the great body of the people ignorant of political duties, it is highly impolitic to confer indiscriminately the privilege of election. The compatriots of Mr. Drummond should continue in statu pupillari until they become familiar with political rights, and imbibe a proper sense of political duties. Hereafter, when the British system shall have been reformed, they will receive that preliminary training at home which will qualify them for more immediate admission to the privileges of citizenship upon their arrival in this country. With a proper restriction of the right of suffrage, a proper check upon the unwise multiplication of elective offices, and a more discreet and attentive exercise of the privilege of election on the part of those who are most in- terested in a politic administration of affairs, we shall guard against that municipal misgovernment, wastefulness, and cor- ruption, which have tended to bring reproach on our whole system. 10* 114 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, But whatever the defects which a friendly or an unfriendly criticism may point out either in the foundation or superstruc- ture of our institutions, in the organic law, or the details of legislation, the general result of the system is obvious. The generation of our countrymen now passing off the stage of ac- lion are nearly as old as the government under which they live; yet what prodigies have they witnessed! They have seen our boundaries enlarged, our resources developed, our weak- ness converted into strength, and our power acknowledged and respected by the most distant nations. Our territory, which even at the outset was deemed by European statesmen too vast and extended, is now washed by the waters of two oceans; capacious harbors indent its shores; immense rivers bear the products of thriving industry to the seas; populous towns and cities are scattered over the land; thought is unshackled, edu- cation diffused, and liberty insured. With a vast confedera- tion of States, comprising every variety of climate, soil, and production, with innumerable cities, the natural centr~s of commerce, manufactures, and arts, with immense lines of rail- way stretching across the continent from ocean to ocean, and with such an administration of the government as will give us contentment at home and respect abroad, we shall present to the world an instance of beneficent power unparalleled in the annals of mankind. ART. IV. Correspondence of CHARLES, first MARQUIS CORN- wALLIS. Edited, with Notes, by CHARLES Ross, EsQ. Lon- don: John Murray. 1859. 3 vols. 8vo. pp. xvi. and 560, 5TT, 621. LORD CORNwALLJS played a conspicuous part in the history of three continents. In the American war he held an inde- pendent command in this country; and after ravaging the Southern Colonies he closed his career here by the capitulation of Yorktown. Returning to England, he was subsequently appointed Governor-General of India, where he gained several

114 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, But whatever the defects which a friendly or an unfriendly criticism may point out either in the foundation or superstruc- ture of our institutions, in the organic law, or the details of legislation, the general result of the system is obvious. The generation of our countrymen now passing off the stage of ac- lion are nearly as old as the government under which they live; yet what prodigies have they witnessed! They have seen our boundaries enlarged, our resources developed, our weak- ness converted into strength, and our power acknowledged and respected by the most distant nations. Our territory, which even at the outset was deemed by European statesmen too vast and extended, is now washed by the waters of two oceans; capacious harbors indent its shores; immense rivers bear the products of thriving industry to the seas; populous towns and cities are scattered over the land; thought is unshackled, edu- cation diffused, and liberty insured. With a vast confedera- tion of States, comprising every variety of climate, soil, and production, with innumerable cities, the natural centr~s of commerce, manufactures, and arts, with immense lines of rail- way stretching across the continent from ocean to ocean, and with such an administration of the government as will give us contentment at home and respect abroad, we shall present to the world an instance of beneficent power unparalleled in the annals of mankind. ART. IV. Correspondence of CHARLES, first MARQUIS CORN- wALLIS. Edited, with Notes, by CHARLES Ross, EsQ. Lon- don: John Murray. 1859. 3 vols. 8vo. pp. xvi. and 560, 5TT, 621. LORD CORNwALLJS played a conspicuous part in the history of three continents. In the American war he held an inde- pendent command in this country; and after ravaging the Southern Colonies he closed his career here by the capitulation of Yorktown. Returning to England, he was subsequently appointed Governor-General of India, where he gained several 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 115 victories over Tippoo Saib, and effected an administrative re- form known in Indian history as the Zemindar Settlement. At a little later period he was made Lord Lieutenant of Ire- land, and was a principal instrument in bringing about the legislative Union of Great~ Britain and Ireland. When Pitt resigned the premiership, and the Addington Ministry entered into negotiations with Bonaparte, Lord Cornwallis was appoint.. ed Minister Plenipotentiary to conclude the definitive treaty of peace; and shortly afterward he was again made Governor- General of India. His correspondence, therefore, has a breadth of interest which commends it to special notice; and in regard to several subjects it possesses the highest value. The sources from which Mr. Ross has gathered this immense and precious collection are very numerous, embracing the family papers at Audley End, the seat of Lord Braybrooke; the letters ad- dressed to the editors father and Lord Cornwalliss most inti- mate friend, Lieutenant-General Ross; the papers at the India House; the documents in the State Paper Office, to some of which no person had previously been allowed access; the papers preserved in Dublin Castle; numerous manuscript vol- umes in the library of the British Institution; and other pri- vate papers and letters in the possession of various individ- uals. Many other collections were also submitted to him; but upon investigation it appeared that such documents as might have thrown additional light on the history of those times, and especially of the Union, had been purposely de- stroyed. For instance, after a search instituted at Welbeck by the kindness of the Duke of Portland, it was ascertained that the late Duke had burnt all his fathers political papers from V780 to his death. In like manner the Chancellor Lord Clare, Mr. Wickham, Mr. King, Sir Herbert Taylor, Sir Edward Lit- tlehales, Mr. Marsden, the Knight of Kerry, and indeed almost all the persons officially concerned in carrying the Union, ap- pear to have destroyed the whole of their papers. Mr. Mars- den, by whom many of the arrangements were concluded, left a manuscript book containing invaluable details, which was burnt only a few years ago by its then possessor. In this paucity of trustworthy documents for elucidating the history of a transaction of such importance, the Cornwallis Corre 116 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, spondence assumes a still greater value, and must be regarded as one of the most important contributions recently made to historical literature in England. Mr. Ross has confined his editorial labors almost entirely to the addition of numerous biographical notes relative to the dif- ferent personages to whom the letters are addressed, or who are mentioned in them. His notes amount to more than two thousand in number, and doubtless contain some noticeable errors; but we have not found it necessary for our present purpose to verify their statements except in a few instances. He has also connected the different sections of the work by such brief explanatory remarks as are needful to give unity to the volumes. But every reader must experience a feeling of regret that the editors plan did not include a life of Lord Cornwallis, as well as a selection from his public and private letters. In strictly biographical details the volumes are sadly deficient. In dealing with American affairs in his notes and in his illustrative remarks, Mr. Ross commits numerous blunders, and exhibits that narrowness and illiberality which are too often shown by English writers in speaking of the loss of the Colonies. Thus, after accusing Franklin of discreditable con- duct in regard to the publication of the letters of Hutchinson to Thomas Whateley, he revives in a foot-note the often-refuted story about Franklins dress at the signing of the peace of Ver- sailles. This speech, he says, referring to Wedderburns speech before the Privy Council, was never forgotten nor for- given by Franklin, who carefully preserved the velvet coat he happened to wear on the occasion, and put it on again the day he signed the preliminaries of peace in 1783. * After Mr. Sparkss very satisfactory refutation of this ridiculous story, it is scarcely necessary to add a word upon the subject; and in regard to the much more serious charge relative to the pub- lication of Hutchinsons letters, we do not hesitate to deny the validity of all the inferences usually drawn by English writers. There is not a particle of evidence for supposing that Franklin obtained the letters dishonestly, that he violated any * Vol. I. p. 15, note 6. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. ones confidence in transmitting them to this country, or that he connived at their subsequent publication. In another place Mr. Ross speaks of Greene, the ablest of all the generals who served under Washington, as coarse in his manners and harsh in his conduct,~~ * an assertion quite equal to Lord Stan- hopes discovery that Greene was a drunkard, of which curious blunder notice was taken in a former number of this journal. Again, he says that the Loyalists in the Carolinas were per- secuted by the Rebels in the most cruel manner, and not unfre- quently murdered, under circumstances of savage barbarity. t The war in the Southern Colonies was undoubtedly marked by a greater degree of asperity than was seen elsewhere, butnot to the extent asserted by Mr. Ross; and it owed this character in no small degree to the express orders of Lord Cornwallis himself. On the 18th of August, 1780, his Lordship wrote to Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger: I have given orders that all the inhabitants of this Province, who had submitted, and who have taken part in this revolt, should be pun- ished with the greatest rigor, that they should be imprisoned, and their whole property taken from them or destroyed; I have likewise directed that compensation should be made out of their effects to the persons who have been plundered and oppressed by them. I have ordered in the most positive manner, that every militia-man who had borne arms with us, and who had afterwards joined the enemy, should he imme- diately hanged. I have now, Sir, only to desire that you will take the most vigorous measures to extinguish the rebellion in the district in which you command, and that you will obey in the strictest manner the directions I have given in this letter, relative to the treatmcnt of the country. Vol. I. pp. b6, ~7. By some means, the substance of this letter was communi- cated to Washington, who promptly addressed a letter on the subject to Sir Henry Clinton. A correspondence ensued, a portion of which is printed in the seventh volume of Mr. Sparkss edition of Washingtons Writings, and there are a few additional letters in the volumes before us. But it is important to notice that Lord Cornwallis did not change his policy; and the numerous acts of cruelty and oppression wan- * Vol. I. p. 75, note 1. t Ibid. p. 70. 11~ LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, tonly committed under these and similar instructions were well suited to aggravate the animosity of the patriots, and to produce a bitter retaliation. In another place, when speaking of the court-martial which tried Andr~, Mr. Ross takes occasion to say, that among the members of the court by which he was tried were two for- eigners, ignorant of the English language, and several of the coarsest and most illiterate of the American generals; and he adds, In any case, the execution of that officer leaves an indelible blot on the character of Washington. * In answer to this it is enough to say, that the two foreigners referred to, Baron Steuben and Lafayette, had both been in the country long enough to acquire a thorough knowledge of the English language, the former having landed at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on the 1st of December, 1777, nearly three years before the trial, and the latter at Charleston, South Carolina, a few months earlier; that the remaining twelve officers who composed the court were among the most intelligent and kindly men in the army; that the President, Nathanael Greene, was a man of singular clearness and force of judgment; and that Andr6 himself admitted to Hamilton, who was much with him in his last hours, that he had been treated by the court with liberality and politeness; and to quote Hamiltons own words, he acknowledged the generosity of the behavior towards him in every respect, but particularly in this, in the strongest terms of manly gratitude. In regard to the course pursued by Washington personally, it must be observed that the duty which he had to discharge was a very painful one. Neverthe- less it was a duty. He could not, consistently with a faithful performance of his various obligations to his country, overrule the decision of the court which had adjudged that Major Andr6, Adjutant-General to the British army, ought to be con- sidered as a spy from the enemy, and that, agreeably to the law and usage of nations, it is their opinion he ought to suffer death. Nor could he have interfered in any other way less open to censure. Washingtons vindication must rest upon the correctness of the decision of the court as to the facts of Vol. I. p. 78. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 119 the case and the law of nations applicable to them. On neither of these points do we entertain the shadow of a doubt. In regard to one other case, that of Captain Asgill, Mr. Ross sharply condemns Washingtons course, asserting that it was the most unjustifiable act committed by Wash- ington, with the exception of Major Andr6s execution. * It is quite unnecessary, however, to enter into any discussion of this subject, which has been very fully and judiciously treated by Mr. Sparks in his Life of Washington; and in the eighth and ninth volumes of his edition of the Writings of Washing- ton are all the letters necessary to a right understanding of the affair. To only one other subject do we now think it necessary to refer. In speaking of the delay in the exchange of Lord Coruwallis after the surrender of Yorktown, Mr. Ross inti- mates that Franklin acted unfairly in the premises; and he asserts that when Washington wrote to Sir Guy Carleton, on the 30th of July, 1782, communicating to him the resolution of Congress ordering the immediate return of Lord Cornwallis to the United States, unless the Honorable Henry Laurens, Esq. be forthwith released from his captivity, and furnished with passports to any part of Europe or America, at his option, or be admitted to a general parole, and adding that he had the fullest expectation of Lord Cornwalliss imme- diate return to the United States, unless the conditions men- tioned in the act of Congress are complied with, Con- gress must have previously heard of the release of Mr. Laurens.t Against a supposition which bears such evident marks of absurdity on its face, we shall not condescend to argue. Having involved himself in these difficulties in regard to a very simple matter, Mr. Ross finally remarks: Whether the Americans were actuated by petty spite, or a desire to revenge themselves upon the most active general who had been opposed to them, or whether they were swayed by some unknown political reasons, it is of course impossible to say. 4 Upon this subject two observations seem to be necessary; and in regard to the part which Franklin took, it is sufficient to * Vol. I. p. 138. I Ibid. p. 135. Ibid. p. 136. 120. LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, quote his own words in a letter to Mr. Oswald, dated June 11, 1T82, and printed in the ninth volume of Mr. Sparkss edition of Franklins Writings. I do not conceive, says Franklin, that I have any authority, in virtue of my office here, to absolve that parole in any degree ; I have therefore en- deavored to found it as well as I could on the express power given me by Congress to exchange General Burgoyne for Mr. Laurens. A reservation is made of confirmation or dis- approbation, not from any desire to restrain the entire liberty of that general, but because I think it decent and my duty to make such reservation, and that I might otherwise be blamed as assuming a power not given me, if I undertook to discharge absolutely a parole given to Congress, without any authority from them for so doing. It is not so easy to understand the reluctance of Congress to assent to the exchange of Lord Cornwallis, in direct opposition to the repeated advice of Washington; but it appears to have sprung partly from their wish to secure the liberation of Mr. Laurens, and partly from the strenuous resistance to his exchange by Mr. Rutledge and other Southern members, who naturally recalled with indig- nation the ravages perpetrated under his orders in Virginia and the Carolinas. Leaving the field of controversial criticism, which we have not thought it necessary to extend to the sections of Mr. Rosss volumes relative to India and Ireland, we propose now to lay before our readers some account of the life and character of Lord Cornwallis, as they are exhibited in his Correspondence, and in other trustworthy publications. Charles, first Marquis Coruwallis, was the eldest son of the first Earl of that name, and was born in Grosvenor Square, London, on the 31st of December, 1T38. His mother was the daughter of Lord Townshend, and niece of Sir Robert Wal- pole; and upon his fathers side he could trace his ancestry back to the fourteenth century, when tlie founder of the family held the office of Sheriff of London. At an early age he was sent to Eton; but we have no account of his school life, except the mention of an accident which caused a per- manent injury to one of his eyes. While at play with a young companion, afterwards Bishop of Durham, he received 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 121 a blow which produced the obliquity of vision still to be seen in his portraits. Even at this early period, however, Lord Brome, as the boy was then called, had indicated his preference for the military profession ; and before he was eighteen he received his first commission in the English army. In the following year he obtained permission to enter the Military Academy at Turin, and he also travelled for some time on the Continent. On leaving Turin he voluntarily joined the English army at that time gathering in Germany, and was appointed aide-dc-camp to Lord Granby. In this capacity he served for some time, and was present at numer- ous engagements, including the memorable battle of Minden. Shortly after this event he returned to England, and in Jan- uary, 1760, he was elected member of Parliament for Eye in Suffolk. In the following spring he was promoted to the rank of Lieuter~int-Colonel, and again repaired to the seat of war, where he remained but a short time, though long enough to take part in several slight actions. On the death of his father, in June, 1762, he succeeded to the earldom; and in November of the same year he took his seat as a member of the House of Lords. Lord Cornwallis seldom engaged in the discussions in Par- liament, but he generally voted with Lord Temple; and it is worth noticing, as illustrative of his political opinions, that the only protest ever signed by him was one drawn up by the latter nobleman against the passage of a resolution aimed at Wilkes. In the debates upon American affairs he did not hesitate to express his general sympathy with the Colonists, and he even voted against Lord Rockinghams Declaratory Bill. So well known were his opinions on this subject, that Horace Walpole says, in his Last Journals, under date of February, 1782, that Lord Coruwallis was more in earnest in serving the cause than was consistent with his principles, which had utterly opposed and condemned it. In the mean time he made a rapid advance in professional honors and emoluments, and he was also appointed to some offices in the civil service. In July, 1768, he married Jemima Tullikens, daughter of Colonel James Jones, to whom he appears to have been much attached, and by whom he had two children, a VOL. LXXXIX.No. 184. 11 / 122 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, son and a daughter. In December, 1770, he was made Con- stable of the Tower, which office he held until February, 1784, and even while he was himself a prisoner of war; and in September, 1775, he was raised to the rank of Major- General. When the ministry determined to send over reinforcements to this country, in the vain hope of coercing the Colonists, he was appointed Lieutenant-General in America; and on the 10th of February, 1776, he sailed from Cork at the head of seven regiments of infantry. After a long and disagreeable passage, he landed at Cape Fear early in May, and subse- quently effected a junction with Sir Henry Clinton. In June, the combined armies made an unsuccessful attack on Charles- ton, South Carolina; and in consequence of this failure, Sir Henry Clinton determined to relinquish further attempts on the Southern Colonies for the present, and to return to the North. Both armies accordingly re-embarked, and arrived in the bay of New York on the 1st of August. On the 22d, they landed on Long Island, to the number of nine thousand men, under command of Sir Henry Clinton, Lord Cornwallis, and several other general officers, and with forty pieces of artillery. It soon became apparent that their intention was to attack the American army intrenched at Brooklyn; but it was not until the 27th that the anticipated battle was fought. In this important action Lord Cornwallis had command of the rear guard, and was only partially engaged. But while making an attempt to outflank the American troops he was boldly attacked by Lord Stirling, and was nearly defeated by that officer. Large reinforcements, however, having joined him, the American troops were entirely cut to pieces, and Lord Stirling himself was made prisoner. Nor was the gen- eral result less disastrous to the Americans. They were totally defeated, and more than a third of their number swelled the list of killed, wounded, and missing. Still all was not lost; and by a wise disposition of his plans, and under cover of a thick fog, Washington was enabled to draw off the whole of his remaining forces on the evening of the 29th. New York was now scarcely tenable; and early in Septem- ber Washington withdrew from the city, and took post in the 1859.] MFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 128 upper part of the island. From this point he retreated up the Hudson; and after the fall of Fort Washington and the evacuation of Fort Lee, which was occupied by Lord Corn- wallis with six thousand troops on the 20th of November, he slowly retreated through New Jersey, and finally crossed the Delaware at Trenton early in December. In the mean time the British had taken possession of the Jerseys, and Lord Coruwallis had pursued the feeble remnant of Washingtons army with considerable activity. The first design of the British commander, as we learn by a letter from Sir William Howe to Lord George Germaine, extended no further than to get and keep possession of East Jersey. Accordingly Lord Cornwallis had orders not to advance beyond Bruns- wick, which occasioned him to discontinue his pursuit. Sub- sequently, however, it was deemed advisable to continue the pursuit, and his Lordship pushed forward to the Delaware, which he reached shortly after Washington had crossed it. Here his progress was stopped by the want of boats; and, after one or two ineffectual attempts to cross, the troops were sent into winter quarters, and their general prepared to return to England. But this intention was soon after relin- quished, in consequence of the success of Washingtons well- planned attack on the British and Hessians at Trenton, on the 26th of December. Lord Coruwallis was then in New York ; but upon re- ceiving intelligence of the disaster which had befallen the troops so recently under his command, he immediately re- turned to the scene of action, reaching Princeton on the night of the 1st of January. Putting himself at the head of his troops, he at once advanced on Trenton, where the American troops were now collected, in the hope of wiping out the recent disgrace. In this hope he was disappointed. By another masterly movement, Washington evaded a battle which must have proved disastrous to the American cause, and withdrew with his whole army to Princeton. This place he entered on the morning of the 3d, after a slight skirmish with a detachment of British troops on their way to reinforce Lord Cornwallis. Finding that Washington had effected his escape, and alarmed by the rumor of rapid accessions to the 124 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, American army, his Lordship hastily retreated to Brunswick, now the only post except Amboy remaining in the hands of the British, so speedy and brilliant had been Washingtons success. The two armies once more went into winter quar- ters; and now, to quote the happy expression of Hamilton, then in his twentieth year, but having already given proof of his marvellous powers, was seen the spectacle of a powerful army straitened within narrow limits by the phantom of a military force, and never permitted to transgress those limits with impunity; in which skill supplied the place of means, and disposition was the substitute for an army.~~ Early in the following summer, and after several unimpor- tant skirmishes, in which Lord Cornwallis had taken an active part, Sir William Howe determined to evacuate the Jerseys and make an attack on Philadelphia. With this view he embarked the greater part of his army on the 5th of July; but in consequence of unfavorable winds, he did not reach the Delaware until the 30th, and it was not until the 25th of August that he began to land, six miles below the Head of Elk. The landing was effected with but little difficulty, nor was much resistance experienced until they reached the Brandywine. Here a signal victory was gained over the American troops by Lord Cornwallis, on the 11th of Sep- tember, which sealed the fate of the city. From some un- explained cause, this advantage was not followed up, and more than a fortnight elapsed before the British troops entered Philadelphia. On the 26th, Lord Cornwallis, who had been detached for the purpose, marched into the city with drums beating and colors flying, and took formal possession. His position, however, was by no means secure, since the Americans still held the control of the Delaware and the com- munication with the sea. Measures were accordingly taken to dislodge them from the important forts on IRed Bank and Mud Island, respectively known as Fort Mercer and Fort Mif- fin. While these measures were in preparation, Washington determined to make an attack on the British camp at German- town. In this attempt he unfortunately failed, though the moral effect was good in inspiring courage in his troops and giving the American arms reputation abroad. A few weeks 1859.3 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 125 later Fort Mercer was successfully defended against a fierce assault by a picked body of Hessian troops, and their leader, Count Donop, was mortally wounded; but after a second at- tack the two forts were captured, one by Sir William Howe and the other by Lord Coruwallis, and the British at once secured the control of navigation. The only other impor- tant military operation in which Lord Cornwallis took part was an unsuccessful attack on Washington at White Marsh, where the American army was very strongly posted. Soon after this event his Lordship sailed for England. Through the whole of this campaign he had held a subordinate coin- ~mand; but it will be readily conceded that he had shown much military capacity, and had acted with zeal and energy in carrying out the orders of his superior officer. The motive which induced his return to England at this time is not very apparent; but we are inclined to suspect that some want of harmony among the British generals sug- gested to him the propriety of looking after his own interests at court. It is certain, however, that on the 12th of April he received from Lord George Germaine, at that time Colo- nial Secretary, a dormant commission giving him the rank of General in America only, with the express purpose of se- curing to him the chief command if any unforeseen accident should happen to Sir Henry Clinton; and nine days after- ward he sailed again for this country. During this short visit to England he resumed his attendance in the House of Lords, though he does not appear to have taken any active part in the discussions; and it is a significant circumstance tl)at he was absent during all the debates on Lord Norths Bill for Conciliation with America. It is believed, neverthe- less, that his political opinions had undergone a change, and that he generally supported the government; and it is known that he was present at several important divisions. The last night on which h~ attended was on that memorable occasion when Lord Chatham made his last speech. On his return to this country Lord Coruwallis appears to have had some difficulty with Sir Henry Clinton in regard to the future conduct of the war; and on the 117th of June, the day before the British evacuated Philadelphia, he wrote to 11* 126 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, Lord George Germaine: As there is great reason to appre- hend, from the large detachments which Sir Henry Clinton is going to make, that no offensive measures can be under- taken against the enemy in this part of the world, I must beg that your Lordship will be so kind as to lay my most humble request before his Majesty, that he will be graciously pleased to permit me to return to England. This permission was refused; and in the few and inconclusive engagements during the latter part of the year, he took, as usual, an active part. But having received intelligence of the dangerous illness of Lady Cornwallis, who had suffered much from grief and anx- iety at his absence, he resigned his command, and once more embarked for England. He arrived about the middle of De- cember in the same year. Two months after his arrival Lady Cornwallis died; and for a time he seems to have withdrawn almost entirely from public business. He was, however, ex- amined as a witness in the House of Commons before a Com- mittee of the whole House to investigate the conduct of the war in America. He does not appear to have stated anything material in this examination, and according to Mr. Ross; he refused to say whether he thought the movements of the troops under Sir William Howe judicious or not, and would only state generally that he had a high respect for Sir Wil- liams military talents. Not long after the death of Lady Cornwallis, he determined to come to this country again; and early in August he landed here for the third time. Immediately on his arrival Sir Henry Clinton wrote home to express how happy he was made by the return of Lord Cornwallis to this country. But we must not interpret this language too literally. Mortification and disgust were probably the feelings which Sir Henry experi- enced; for after indulging in some querulous remarks on his own disagreeable position, he closed his letter by tendering his resignation. Thus circumstanced, he writes, and con- vinced that the force under my command at present, or that will be during this campaign, is not equal to the services ex- pected from it, I most earnestly request your Lordship to lay before his Majesty my humble supplications, that he will per- mit me to resign the command of this army to Lord Corn- 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 127 wallis. Doubtless this jealousy between the two principal officers contributed not a little to the final success of our arms at Yorktown. The first expedition in which Lord Cornwallis was engaged after his arrival at New York, was that sent in the latter part of September to the relief of Governor Dalling of Jamaica, who was much alarmed for the safety of the island. A few days after the fleet had sailed, information was received of the arrival upon the coast of Georgia of a strong French fleet under Count DEstaing, and Lord Cornwallis immediately returned to New York. After a delay of two months a new expedition set sail, on the 26th of December, 1Th~9, for the long-projected attack on Charleston, South Carolina. The voyage was protracted and stormy; several of the vessels were lost; most of the horses for the use of the artillery and cav- alry perished; and it was not until the last of January that the scattered and disabled ships were reunited at the mouth of the Savannah River. Two months more elapsed before the British army broke ground for the threatened siege of Charleston. The attack and the defence were from this time conducted with great activity; but the besieging army was too strong, too well equipped, and too ably supported by the ships of war, to leave the result doubtful. On the 12th of May the city surrendered; and shortly afterward the British troops took possession of its ruined fortifications. The ex- hausted garrison marched out and deposited their arms in the same manner which was observed a few months later at Yorktown. Satisfied with the success of this attack, Sir Henry Clinton returned to New York on the 5th of June, leaving Lord Cornwallis in command of the Southern army. His first important business after Sir Henrys departure was the formation of some kind of regular government for the city and Colony, to replace that which had previously existed. For this purpose he returned from Camden, where he had been stationed, to Charleston, to make the necessary arrangements, and to prepare for an expedition into North Carolina. In the mean time, General Gates had been appointed to the command of the American troops, and had signalized his arrival in camp by beginning at once to march upon Camden. On receiving 128 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, intelligence of this movement, Lord Cornwallis immediately left Charleston to resume the command of the troops posted at Camden. He arrived there on the 13th of August, and, with characteristic energy, determined not to await an attack, but to offer battle on the first opportunity. Accordingly, on the morning of the 16th, he made a fierce attack on Gatess army. The militia, who formed the right wing of the Ameri- can forces, were at once thrown into confusion; and though the regulars endeavored manfully to turn the tide of victory, the result was a total defeat. Gates did not pause in his retreat until he reached Hilisborough, a distance of one hun- dred and eighty miles from the scene of action. This dis.. astrous defeat left the whole country at the mercy of the victors; but, fortunately, they were not in a condition to take advantage of it. Their delay in following up the victory enabled the defeated army to recover somewhat from the effects of the battle. At length, on the 8th of September, his Lordship advanced towards the village of Charlotte, with the intention of estab- lishing a strong military post there, and of attempting to overrun North Carolina. This long-cherished scheme was not to be accomplished so easily; and while he was at Char- lotte, Lord Coruwalhis received information which put a new aspect on the condition of affairs. On the 9th of October, a considerable body of Loyalists had been cut to pieces at Kings Mountain ; their leader, Major Ferguson, had been killed, and nearly the whole corps killed or taken prisoners. In con- sequence of this result, small as were the numbers engaged, his Lordship was compelled to relinquish his expedition, and to retreat into South Carolina. He accordingly took post at Winusborough, where he remained inactive during the win- ter. In the mean time, a spirited partisan war was carried on, but without important results, though Marion, Sumpter, and others rendered their names memorable by the brilliancy of their actions, and though Colonel Tarleton, on the British side, made himself equally feared and hated for the energy with which he harried the country. On the 17th of January, another blow was struck in the total defeat of Tarleton at Cowpens by the indefatigable Morgan, who had recently been 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 129 detached to serve in the South. This battle has justly been considered as one of the most important actions in the war, since it still further weakened the British cause, and was fruitful in important results. Two days after this memorable battle, Lord Coruwallis started in pursuit of Morgan, after destroying the greater part of his baggage and many of his wagons. The pursuit was conducted by forced marches, but by great skill and address Morgan succeeded in effecting his escape. Still his Lord- ship pressed forward in the hope of cutting off Morgan, or Greene, who had been appointed to the chief command of the Southern army, in place of Gates. On the 15th of March, he came ~up with Greene, and totally defeated him, at Guil- ford Court-House. Greenes force was in numbers more than double that of Cornwallis, but in every other respect it was mnch inferior. Many of his troops were raw recruits, who had never seen service, and who were now to make their first essay in arms against a body of well-trained veterans, led by one of the most accomplished generals in the English army. Greene did not hesitate to meet the enemy. The result, as we have said, was his defeat; but the victory proved a barren triumph to Lord Cornwallis. He could not follow up his advantage; and Greene lay for two days within ten miles of the victors, gathering up his own scattered forces. He was then ready to follow the retreating steps of the victorious enemy. Four days after the battle, Lord Cornwallis fell back to Cross Creek, from which point he retreated to Wilmington. Here he arrived on the i~th of April, in an exhausted state, having been closely pursued by Greene, who cut off his sup- plies and otherwise harassed his march. His position was still very far from being pleasant, and the prospect before him was well suited to dishearten any one. My present undertaking sits heavy on my mind, he says in a letter to Sir Henry Clinton, dated April 23, 1781. I have expe- rieneed the dangers and distresses of marching some hundreds of miles in a country chiefly hostile, without one active or useful friend, without intelligence, and without communicution with any part of the country. The situation in which I leave South Carolina adds much to my 130 LIFE OF LORD COUNWALLIS. [July, anxiety, yet I am under the necessity of adopting this hazardous enter- prise hastily, and with the appearance of precipitation, as I find there is no prospect of speedy reinforcements from Europe, and that the return of General Greene to North Carolina, either with or without success, would put a junction with General Phillips out of my power. Neither his cavalry nor his infantry were in a proper con- dition for so great an undertaking as had been planned. The former were in want of everything, and the latter had nothing but an ample supply of shoes. But undismayed by these difficulties, he determined to make the attempt; and two days after this letter was written he began his march for Vir- ginia, with the hope of effecting a junction with Phillips at Petersburg. His Lordship reached that place on the 20th of May, and found Arnold, who had succeeded to the command on the death of Phillips, a week before, awaiting his arrival, and anxious to join in any measures for the destruction of the Colonies. Thence he proceeded to Williamsburg, which was reached the last of June. During this period, the depreda- tions committed by his troops, and under his own eye, were of the most aggravated kind, and fix an indelible stain upon his character. For ten days his head-quarters were established in a house belonging to Mr. Jefferson, who has left on record some reminiscences of this occupation. In a letter to Doctor Gordon, dated July 16, 1788, and printed in the second vol- ume of his Works, he says, Lord Cornwallis destroyed all my growing crops of corn and tobacco; he burned all my barns, containing the same articles of the last year, having first taken what corn he wanted; he used, as was to be expected, all my stock of cattle, sheep, and hogs, for the sustenance of his army, and carried off all the horses capable of service; of those too young for service he cut the throats; he burned all the fences on the plantation, so as to leave it an absolute waste. He carried off also about thirty slaves. Mr. Jefferson then goes on to speak of the depredations com- mitted on the property of his neighbors, and in order to guard against any mistake, he adds: When I say that Lord Corn- wallis did all this, I do not mean that he carried about the torch in his own hands, but that it was all done under his eye; the situation of the house in which he was commanding 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 181 a view of every part of the plantation, so that he must have seen every fire. I relate these things on my own knowledge in a great degree, as I was on the ground soon after he left it. This testimony, we may add, is corroborated by all that is known of his Lordships Southern campaign. Doubtless some allowance must be made in favor of Lord Cornwallis, on account of the feelings of mortification which he must have experienced in seeing his schemes constantly defeated by Greene and the other American generals, and in finding how little community of interest there was between Sir Henry Clinton and himself. Not only, says Mr. Ross, did Sir Henry Clinton lay down no plan of operations for Lord Cornwallis, but, with the exception of the proposed at- tack on Philadelphia, he never said what he meant to do himself, professing his inability to make any arrangements till the expected reinforcements had arrived from Europe. Even more, when General Phillips was sent to the Chesapeake, his instructions were not communicated to Lord Cornwallis. Under these annoying circumstances, it is not surprising that his subsequent movements should have been somewhat feeble and vacillating. In accordance, however, with what he be- lieved to be the wish of Sir Henry Clinton, he determined to establish a permanent military post at Yorktown, and another at Gloucester, on the opposite side of York River. The troops were therefore conveyed down the river in boats, and landed on the 1st and 2d of August. Works were immediately commenced for the defence of the two places; but, from va- rious causes, much delay occurred in their completion. In the mean time the Count de Grasse had entered the Chesa- peake with a French fleet, and had fought an indecisive bat- tle with the English fleet under Admiral Graves, who was compelled to sail for New York to rep~dr damages. Infor- mation of these events was immediately sent by express to Washington, who was then in Philadelphia. He at once re- solved to proceed to Virginia with a strong body of rein- forcements, and, in connection with Lafayette and the troops then in the neighborhood of Yorktowii, to give battle to Lord Coruwallis, or to attack him in his intrenchments. On the night of the 28th of September he appeared before 132 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, Yorktown with an army twelve thousand strong. The next night the British evacuated their outposts and withdrew with- in the works, hoping, says Lord Cornwallis in his official despatch, by the labor and firmness of the soldiers, to pro- tract the defence until Sir Henry Clinton could arrive with the promised reinforcements. These outworks were immedi- ately taken possession of by the French and Americans; and on the night of the 6th of October the first parallel was opened, within six hundred yards of the enemy, with but slight loss on the part of the besiegers. As soon as the parallel was completed, the batteries began to play on the town with marked effect; all the guns on the enemys left were silenced; their works were much damaged; and many of their troops were killed. Two days after the fire was commenced from the first parallel, the second parallel was opened, within three hundred yards of the enemys works; and on the evening of the 14th, two of the advanced redoubts were carried by as- sault, by separate detachments of French and American troops, and were united with the second parallel. The capture of these redoubts sealed the fate of Lord Cornwallis; but he determined not to yield as long as there was a possibility of escape. Accordingly, on the morning of the 16th he ordered a sortie, which was partially successful, though so little dam- age was done that the Americans found no difficulty in resum- ing the attack before night with the guns that had been spiked only a few hours before. The same night his Lordship, as a last resort, attempted to escape in boats to the opposite side of the river; but a violent storm frustrated this scheme. Nothing now remained but to surrender on the 1z~est terms which the besiegers were disposed to grant. On the 1~th he wrote to Washington, proposing the appointment of commis- sioners to treat for the surrender of the two posts of Yorktown and Gloucester. After some delay the terms of capitulation were agreed upon, and were signed on the 19th. They were the same which had been granted to General Lincoln at Charleston the year before; and it was to that officer Lord Coruwallis surrendered his sword. It is not easy to exaggerate the importance of this vic- tory, the last great event of the war. Its results were 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 133 immediate and apparent. The enemy, says Hamilton, who had served with great credit during the siege, were divest- ed of their acquisitions in South Carolina and Georgia, with a rapidity which, if not ascertained, would scarcely be credi- ble. In the short space of two months, all their posts in the interior of the country were reduced. Everywhere was re- joicing; Congress voted special thanks to the French and American commanders and to the two armies; the American representatives abroad congratulated one another and the French government on the success of the expedition. In England the feeling was equally strong, although not of so agreeable a character. Horace Walpole records in his Last Journals, that when Colonel Robert Conway arrived in Eng- land, express from Lord Cornwallis, to represent the desper- ate posture of affairs, he told his father that England had not a friend left in America. And when the news of the surrender actually came, we are told, The news threw the Court and Administration into great confusion and distress. It came on the Sunday, and Parliament was to open on Tuesday, 27th. They had little time to prepare or alter the speech, and so it appeared; for though it affected great firmness and resolu- tion of carrying on the war, it ridiculously passed, after one short para- graph on the new disgrace, to the East Indies, whence there was no new account, but where it pretended we had great success. It remind- ed men of the famous speech at the time of the remonstrances, which talked of the disease amongst the horned cattle. Immediately after the capitulation, Lord Cornwallis pro- ceeded under parole to New York, and thence sailed for England, where he arrived early in January, fl82. In this rapid sketch of Lord Cornwalliss career in this coun- try we have attempted little more than to indicate the princi- pal events by which it was marked, and the general character of his services. During the first part of the time, he had held only a subordinate command here; but he had exhibited considerable energy and a sincere devotion to the British cause, and had acquired the reputation of being an able offi- cer. His Southern campaign, on the contrary, in which he possessed an independent command, was a series of defeats, or of victories scarcely to be distinguished in their effects VOL. Lxxxlx.No. 184. 12 134 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, from defeats, and had terminated with the total loss of his army. From this blow the British cause never recovered; and if Lord Cornwallis had died soon after his return to Eng- land, he would have filled a very different place in history from that which he now occupies. His true fame rests on what he did in India and Ireland, rather than on anything that he accomplished in America. In this country he left a well-merited reputation for harshness, and even cruelty; and the disastrous termination of his military career here was not likely to make him very popular in England. It must be con- ceded, however, that his subsequent conduct in the two most important periods of his life was marked by a humane and generous spirit, and that the failure of his military operations in the Southern Colonies must be attributed in no small de- gree to the want of harmony between Sir Henry Clinton and himself. If Lord Cornwallis had been properly supported, and fully informed in regard to Sir Henrys plans, there is reason to fear that the military capacity of Greene and Mor- gan, and the activity of Marion and Sumpter, would have availed little for the recovery of the Carolinas. Nor is it probable that the crowning victory of Yorktown would have been achieved, if Sir Henry Clinton had sent forward rein- forcements on receiving the first intelligence of the danger- ous position in which the Southern army was placed. Lord Cornwallis did not resume his seat in Parliament until the June after his return; and about the same time the am pointment of Governor-General of India was tendered to him by Lord Shelburne. This office he declined, from considera- tions of delicacy growing out of the fact that he had not yet been fully released from his parole. When the Coalition came into power, in April, 1q83, he was disposed to resign his place as Constable of the Tower, on political grounds ; but this intention was not carried out, and he continued to hold the office, as we have already remarked, until February, 1T84. In the discussions on Mr. Foxs East India bill, he took no part; but after the king had authorized Lord Temple to make use of his name to defeat the Administration, Lord Coruwallis came up to town, and voted against the bill. He seems, how- ever, to have felt that he was engaged in a rather disreputable 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLI$. 135 business. Immediately after the ministers were turned out, he wrote to his friend Ross: My situation of having been sent for up to vote, and keeping my place, sat heavy on my mind, and before I knew of the change I had determined to resign. It was not difficult, however, to quiet his mind, and he soon convinced himself that he ought not to resign at once. During this tempestuous period of party politics, when, as he says in one of his letters, political animosities were at such a height, as to make it almost impossible to associate with those of the opposite party, Lord Cornwallis partici- pated but little in public affairs. Yet he was a firm supporter of Mr. Pitt; and at one time he thought there was a possi- bility of his being offered the government of Ireland. The offer does not appear to have been made; and we next find him considering proposals to go to India, which were declined, chiefly, as we suppose, from an unwillingness to assume the responsibility of governing that remote empire unless the offices of Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief could be united. A few weeks later, his regard for the ministry was much shaken, by their failure to appoint him to any of the offices vacated by the death of Lord Waldegrave. So great, indeed, was his vexation, that he began a letter narrating the circumstances by declaring: I never before, my dear Ross, sat down with regret to write to you. It grieves me to think of the concern this letter will give you, but you must hear the story. He then goes on to speak of the promises which he had received, and of his expectation of being sent for on the death of Lord Waldegrave. The first blow to this expectation was the announcement in the Gazette that Lord George Len- nox had received one of the most desirable appointments. On this, he thought it time to go up to town, where he saw a second announcement that the next best appointment had been given to Lord Percy. The following morning he waited on Lord Sydney, one of the Secretaries of State, to represent his grievances, and to see what reparation he could obtain. The result of the interview was not satisfactory, and towards the close of the letter he exclaims, I have now done for ever with kings and ministers. But three days afterward he was willing to have another interview with the minister. This LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 136 [July, interview was equally unsatisfactory, and terminated by Lord Cornwalliss leaving the room in a fit of passion; and again he poured out his griefs to Colonel Ross. I did not feel quite easy, he says, at having had no communication with any person but Lord Sydney. At the same time he enclosed a letter which he had written to Mr. Pitt, complaining of Lord Sydneys conduct towards him, and giving expression to his vexation with Mr. Pitt for agreeing to expose me to the world as an object of contempt and ridicule. I have now, Sir, he says, at the close of his letter to the premier, only to say, that I still admire your character,that I have still hopes that your abilities and integrity will preserve this distressed country; I will not be base enough, from a sense of personal injury, to join faction, and endeavor, right or wrong, to ob- struct the measures of government; but I must add, and with heartfelt grief I do it, that private confidence cannot easily be restored. The result of this missive was an interview with Mr. Pitt, in which the prime minister skilfully smoothed his Lordships ruffled feelings, by offering him his former appoint~~ ment of Constable of the Tower; and they parted with much civil language. The same day, Lord Coruwallis expressed his gratitude to Mr. Pitt in a short and characteristic note. The fairness and candor of your behavior to me, he writes, and your obliging expressions of friendship, have determined me never to turn my eyes back to whatever fatality occasioned the disagreeable subject of our conversation. I shall most thankfully accept the Tower from you, and I shall erase from my mind every idea that I could ever have been slighted by Mr. Pitt. A similar note was despatched to Lord Sydney, and so, he writes to his friend, this disagreeable affair has ended better than we could have expected. In the early part of 1785, he was again offered the appoint- ment of Governor-General of India, to prevent some disa- greement in the Cabinet. But after considering the subject for twenty-four hours, he declined the proffered honor. In the summer of the same year he was intrusted with his first diplomatic mission, which was designed to open a more direct and confidential intercourse between the courts of Prussia and of England. This duty he discharged in a very satisfactory 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 137 manner, though it was not productive of any immediate re- sults. Early in the following year the offer of the Governor- Generalship was again pressed upon him, with the addition of the appointment of Commander-in-Chief in India. This offer he accepted on the 23d of February, 1786, with the in- tention of returning to England in five years; and on the 6th of May he set sail for India. He arrived at Calcutta early in the followiiig September, and entered at once upon the discharge of his new duties. To this task he doubtless brought those general views of Indian policy which afterwards guided him in the management of affairs. Still his position was not likely to prove easy. A year and a half before, Warren Hastings, after many delays, had finally obeyed the commands of the Court of Directors, and had sailed for England, there to undergo a trial of unex- ampled length, at the bar of the House of Lords, upon the impeachment of the Commons of England. His successor, Sir John Macpherson, was not a man of high character or of marked ability, and had already been engaged in some dis- reputable pecuniary transactions in India. His short ad- ministration only increased the difficulties with which Lord Cornwallis had to contend. Under all the innumerable dis- advantages arising from a long course of previous misgovern- ment, the new Governor-General was to restore peace to the country, regulate the finances of the Company, and, in general, inaugurate a new system. He had never been in India before; he was ignorant of the language, manners, and customs of the people whom he was to govern; and he had no acquaintance with the details of that complex system by which Indian poli- tics were managed, and a revenue raised from the depressed people of India. It is true that his authority extended over a territory very inconsiderable when compared with that im- mense empire which is now under the sway of England. But the threatening aspect of affairs at home, the great danger of the speedy breaking out of a general European war, and the actual existence of war among the native princes in India, all added to the difficulty and insecurity of his position, and fully compensated for any advantages arising from the comparative narrowness of his territories. 12* 138 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, The first matter which engaged his attention was the abro- gation of certain treaties entered into by Sir John Macpherson with several of the native princes. These treaties had been disapproved by the Court of Directors; and it is a striking illustration of the quickness with which the new Governor- Generals mind acted, that his plan for their abrogation was settled, and announced to the different princes, in a few weeks after he first stepped foot in India. Besides settling this im- portant question, he also turned his attention to the financial reform of the government, and to a rigid examination of the numerous jobs by which colossal fortunes had been built up under former administrations, and the natives had been cru- elly oppressed. One of the most important of these reforms, since it related to what is to the East Indian a prime necessary of life, was the reform in the management of the salt monopoly. The mode of collecting the revenue from this article had varied in different years. At one time, licenses to manufacture salt were sold, and a transit duty was added upon the removal of any salt so produced. Other systems were then adopted with various degrees of success; and finally, in 1772, it was provid- ed, that all the salt manufactured in India should in the first instance be sold to the agents of the Company at a price fixed by them, and then resold to the wholesale dealers at an ad- vanced price, to be once more sold to the consumer at a still higher price. This cumbrous, and, we may venture to add, nefarious system, was in existence when Lord Cornwallis ar- rived in India. He saw its evils, and determined to put a stop to them. Accordingly he decided that the salt should be put up to public auction, and sold without partiality or favor, to the fairest bidder. The immediate result was satisfactory, and ad- vantageous to the revenue of the Company. By exposing it in small lots, he wrote to the Court of Directors, on the 18th of August, 1787, natives of the most moderate fortunes have had it in their power to become purchasers, and I have the satis- faction to inform you, that, between what has hitherto been called the Companys price and the price for which it was actu- ally sold, the public, upon the quantity already disposed of, has gained upwards of five lacs of rupees. Subsequently the system was again changed; and in 1836, the Company reverted to the method which Lord Cornwallis had abolished. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD COUNWALLIS. 189 Other administrative and financial reforms likewise occupied his mind, and were carried out with a greater or less degree of success; and in December, 1787, he was able to write to the Chairman of the East India Company: I can truly say, that, ever since I landed in Bengal, I have paid the most unre- mitted attention to every part of the Companys interest in this country. I have been a most rigid economist, in all cases where I thought rigid economy was true economy. I abol- ished sinecure places, put a stop to jobbing agencies and con- tracts, prevented large sums from being voted away in council for trumped-up charges, and have been unwearied in hunting out fraud and abuse in every department. In the same let- ter he indicates his views in regard to the compensation which the servants of the Company ought to receive. I shall never think it a wise measure in this country, he says, to place men in great and responsible situations, where the prosperity of our affairs must depend on their exertions as well as integ- rity, without giving them the means, in a certain number of years, of acquiring, honestly and openly, a moderate fortune. The same wise and just principle is announced in other letters, and upon it his Lordship uniformly acted in settling the sala- ries over which he had control. The only important cession of territory obtained during this first part of Lord Coruwalliss administration was that of the Guntoor Circar, which was surrendered in 1788 by the Nizam, one of the most powerful of the Mahometan rulers in India. The English claim, which originally dated from the treaty con- cluded with the Nizam in 1768, had ceased to be dormant in 1782, upon the death of his brother Bazalet Jung, to whom the territory had been conditionally granted in 1761. Accord- ing to the terms of this treaty, the Guntoor Circar was to be given up to the Company upon the death of the reigning prince; but when that event occurred, it was not deemed ad- visable by the English authorities to insist upon a cession which the Nizam exhibited some reluctance to make. When Lord Coruwallis was appointed to the Governor-Generalship, and before he sailed from England, he received specific instruc- tions to procure the surrender of this territory. The appre- hensions of war, by which the first years of his administration 140 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, were disturbed, induced him to delay making a formal demand upon the Nizam for the fulfilment of the treaty stipulations. Finally, in the summer of 1788, active measures were taken to secure the desired object; and after a short negotiation the matter was satisfactorily settled, and the fact was announced by his Lordship in a despatch dated November 4, 1788. At the same time the Nizams claim for the peshcush, or tribute, due from the Company under the same treaty, and their counter-claim for the revenues of the Circar collected since the death of Bazalet, were amicably adjusted. During this period of uninterrupted peace his Lordship had experienced little difficulty in devoting himself almost exclu- sively to the daily routine of official life, and to the maturing of his plans for administrative and financial reform. I can send you no news from hence that can either amuse or interest you, he says in a letter to his son, dated January 11, 1789; my life at Calcutta is perfect clockwork; I get on horseback just as the dawn of day begins to appear, ride on the same road and the same distance, pass the whole forenoon, after my re- turn from riding, in doing business, and almost exactly the same portion of time every day at table, drive out in a phaeton a little before sunset, then write, or read over letters or papers of business for two hours, sit down at nine with two or three officers of my family to some fruit and a biscuit, and go to bed soon after the clock strikes ten. But this regularity of life which marked the first part of his residence in India was not long afterward exchanged for the bustle of the camp. Apprehensions had been for some tiitie felt that the warlike preparations of Tippoo Saib, the most powerful of all the princes in India, were designed for an attack on the iRajah of Travancore, one of the chief allies of the Company. These apprehensions proved to be well founded; and at the close of the year 1789, Tippoo made an attack on the lines of the IRa- jah, with the knowledge that this act would be regarded by the English as equivalent to a declaration, of war upon them.* * The reasons for this step put forward by Tippoo were, 1st. That the Rajnh had given protection to the Rajahs of Calicut, Cootingherry, & c., who were in- debted to Tippoos Circar. 2d. That he had purchased Cranganore from the Dutch. 3d. That he had erected lines on a part of Cochin dependent on Calicut. To this 1859.] LIFE OF LOTtD CORNWALLIS. 141 Hostilities immediately commenced, and by the middle of June, 1790, the campaign may be said to have fairly opened. No very important events marked the first months of the war, though several places were besieged, and some slight engage- ments took place. On the 12th of December, Lord Cornwallis arrived at Madras, for the purpose of assuming the command of the army in person, and superseding General Medows, who had hitherto conducted the war. On the 29th of the following month, his Lordship took the command of the army. A few days later, he began his march towards the territories of Tippoo; and by a judicious manoeu- vre he ascended the Eastern Ghauts, and encamped on the table-land of Mysore without opposition. This successful opening of the campaign was actively followed up by the siege of Bangalore, an important place about two hundred miles west of Madras, which was carried by storm on the 21st of April. Immediately after this victory he again pushed for- ward, and on the 13th of May he reached Arikera, about nine miles from Seringapatam. Here his position was by no means secure; and he soon saw that there was but little chance of effecting the reduction of Seringapatam before the commence- ment of the rainy season. His troops were much weakened by their long and rapid march, and by the great deficiency of provisions and forage; the armies which were to be furnished by the Nizam and the Peshwa, in accordance with the terms of two treaties concluded with them in the preceding July, had been very dilatory in their movements, and only a small number of the Nizams cavalry had yet joined his standard; the river had already begun to rise, and would soon be at such a height as to render it impossible for him to form a junction the Rajah of Travancore replied, that Tippoos debtors should be ordered to depart from his dominions; that the Dutch had an indisputable right to sell; and that the lines on Cochin had been erected twenty-five years, and before its Rajab had begun to pay tribute to Tippoo. The lines of the Rajah of Travancore extended from the sea to the mountains, a distance of twenty-eight or thirty miles, and formed the northern barrier of his possessions. They consisted of a ditch about sixteen feet broad and twenty deep, a slight parapet and thick rampari~, and bastions flanking each other from one end to the other. They were attacked by Tippoo in person on the 29th of December; but after obtaining possession of a part of the works, he was compelled to retire with considerable loss. 142 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, with General Abercomby, who was advancing from Bombay; and the season was rapidly approaching when it would be im- possible to carry on operations in the field. Undismayed by these formidable obstacles, his Lordship determined to attack Tippoo at once. The battle was fought on the 15th, and re- sulted in a complete victory over Tippoo, who lost a corr~idera- ble number in killed and wounded, and four pieces of brass cannon. This victory, however, was productive of but little advantage; and finding it impossible to cross the river, Lord Cornwallis destroyed his heavy baggage and his battering train on the 22d, and transmitted orders to General Abercromby to put his army into cantonments on the Malabar coast until the rainy season was over. On the 26th, he commenced his own retreat towards Bangalore; but scarcely had the army begun to move, when the long-expected army of the Peshwa made its appearance. Its arrival, however, was too late to prevent the postponement of the attack on Seringapatam; and though its appearance a few days before would probably have changed the entire aspect of things, his Lordship did not deem it advisable to retrace the steps which he had taken. Accordingly, after a brief delay for the purpose of covering the large convoys which accompanied the Mahratta army, the march was resumed. In the mean time some unimportant operations had been carried on by the troops of the Nizam and the Peshwa, the most considerable of which were the capture of Capool and Darwar, after protracted sieges. The only other military events of the year deserving of notice were the reduction of the numerous hill forts scattered over the territory of Mysore, which rendered communication between the different armies extremely difficult, and in many cases altogether impossible. The most formidable of these rocky fortresses were Nundy- droog, Savendroog, or the Hill of Death, and Ootradroog; but notwithstanding their great strength, they all surrendered after severe and sometimes protracted sieges. In a short time nearly every fort between Seringapatam and the Coro- mandel coast was in the hands of the English. The campaign had not indeed been attended with all the success which had been hoped for; but on the whole the results were very favor- able to the English arms. And it must be regarded as fur- 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 143 nishing strong evidence of Lord Cornwalliss skill and energy as a military commander. With the opening of the new year, he took prompt and efficient measures for bringing the war to a speedy termina- tion. On the 25th of January, he began his march from Savendroog, in the vicinity of which place he had collected his various forces, and in ten days he was within sight of Seringapatam. A short time was spent in reconnoitring and in preparing for an assault; and at eight oclock Qn the even- ing of the 6th of February, the army, to the number of nine thousand men, moved forward to the attack. It was a bright moonlight night, and no previons cannonade had weakened the enemys works. Yet the success of the attack was com- plete. All of Tippoos works on the north bank of the river were carried, and his loss in killed, wounded, and missing is said to have amounted to more than twenty-three thousand men. The firing had commenced at eleven oclock on the night of the 6th, and was kept up without cessation until five oclock on the afternoon of the 7th. At that hour the English remained in full possession of all they had gained; and dur- ing the night Tippoo withdrew all his troops to the south side of the river, leaving behind him seventy-seven pieces of cannon, which fell into the hands of the victors. This ad- vantage was followed up so rapidly, that by the 22d it was certain that the batteries could begin to play on the 1st of March, and with a strong probability that they would soon effect a breach. Alarmed at the dangers which threatened him, Tippoo made overtures for peace; and on the 23d, he communicated to a large assembly of his principal officers the preliminary articles agreed upon the day before. By these articles it was provided that one half of the dominions in pos- session of Tippoo at the commencement of the war should be ceded to the allies, agreeably to their selection from the terri- tories adjacent to their own boundaries; that three crores and thirty lacs, of Sicca rupees, or rather more than sixteen mil- lion dollars, should be paid to the allies, one half immediate- ly, and the remainder in three instalments; that all the pris- oners taken from the time of ilyder Ali to the close of the present war should be given up; and that two of the three 144 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, eldest sons of Tippoo should be surrendered as hostages for the faithful performance of these articles. Notwithstanding the severity of these terms, Tippoos advisers were unanimofis in favor of their acceptance, as the only means of preserving his power from entire destruction; and they were accordingly embodied in the definitive treaty of peace and perpetual friendship subsequently concluded.* The third Mysore war was one of the two great events in the history pf Lord Cornwalliss Indian administration; and its speedy and successful termination afforded him much satisfaction. No termination of the war, he writes to his brother, on the 4th of May, could in my opinion have been attended with more solid advantages to our interest, and the deference which was paid to us on the occasion, both by friends and enemies, has placed the British name and conse- quence in a light never before known in India. Throughout its whole course, he had exhibited characteristic forethought and energy. Not only did he take the fierd in person at the earliest moment, and breathe his own active and enterpris- ing spirit into all who were under his command; but at the very outset he took measures to secure the co-operation of two of the most powerful of the native princes. The same prompt- ness and decision marked his subsequent acts; and though he was compelled in the first instance to desist from his pro- posed attack on Seringapatam, the failure of the attempt can- not be ascribed to any oversight or neglect upon his part. Added to this, the terms dictated to Tippoo were in the high- est degree conducive to the interest of the Company. By the treaty of peace they obtained large acquisitions of revenue * Mr. Thornton, who is in general unfriendly to the policy of Lord Cornwallis, condemns this peace, in his History of the British Empire in India, because the terms were so favorable. Perhaps, he says, no more injudicious course could have been takeu than that pursued by Lord Coruwallis. The humiliation and loss to which the Sultan was subjected would naturally influence his previous feelings of enmity, and he was left with the means of gratifying those feelings. But looking at this matter without any partisan bias, we may venture to express the opinion that Lord Cornwallis adopted the only course which he could take con- sistently with the known views of the Court of Directors and with. his own well- assnred convictions on the subject. It met the approbation of the home govern- ment; and the fortunate commander was rewarded for his brilliant successes by being raised to a marquisate, apparently without solicitation on his part. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 145 and territory, and sensibly weakened the power of a very dan- gerous neighbor. Upon the side of the Carnatic they ob- tained a new frontier, which added much to the security of that important province; and the revenues of the ceded prov- inces formed a very welcome, and at that time much needed accession to their treasury. Upon the close of the war, his Lordship was enabled once more to turn his attention to the internal affairs of his gov- ernment. The first and greatest question which claimed his attention related to the assessment and collection of the land revenue in the districts of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, com- prising the territory under the direct supervision of the Gov- ernor-General. The subject was surrounded with great diffi- culties, and had been under his consideration for a long time, even before he left England, it is said. Considerable progress had been made in the settlement of the principles and details of the new system, when the breaking out of the Mysore war compelled him to postpone the immediate execution of his plan. He now returned to its discussion, and after careful examination, and with the approval of the Court of Directors, he inaugurated the system known as the Zemindar or Per- manent Settlement. The justice and expediency of this ar- rangement have been often called in question, and not without good reason. It is, indeed, one of the uncounted anomalies of the Indian government. But we are not aware that the purity and integrity of Lord Cornwalliss motives have been assailed by any writer, however much he may have con- demned the system. This settlement was, of course, based in the first instance on the theory, almost universally recognized in India, that the ultimate title to the soil was vested in the sovereign, and that from him the territory was held, subject to such condi- tions as he might see fit to impose. But when Lord Corn- wallis and the Council at Calcutta approached the next point, which related to the present proprietorship of the soil, they became involved in many doubts and difficulties, arising from the uncertainty and variety of the laws and usages prevalent in different provinces. Their investigations, which are ad- mitted to have been thorough and minute, led them to adopt VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 13 146 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, the supposition that the existing proprietary rights were vested in the zemindars, or landholders, and that the ryots, or peas- ants, stood to them in the relation of tenants. The correct- ness of this supposition has been often denied, and the real facts of the case are by no means clear; but it is the corner- stone of the Zemindar Settlement. These two points arranged, it only remained to determine the amount of the assessment, and the length of time for which it should be made. In re- gard to the first point, there does not appear to have been much difference of opinion; and it was decided, with little difficulty, that the assessment should be calculated as far as was practicable on the average income received by the gov- ernment in previous years. In regard to the next question, however, there was a great and irreconcilable difference be- tween the views of Lord Cornwallis and those of Mr. Shore, his principal and most influential adviser. On the one side Mr. Shore was firm in the opinion that the settlement should be made for only ten years, in order to afford an opportunity for its revision, if experience should suggest any improve- ments. He contended, with much reason, that, notwithstand- ing their laborious investigations, many questions had been decided on imperfect grounds; that, in some cases, injustice might have been done, by ignoring rights which had not been fully explained; and that in others the government might have suffered through concealment or fraud. On the other hand, Lord Cornwallis was equally firm in the opinion that the sejtlement ought to be made permanent, prognosticating great evils if the system should be left subject to a revision, by which the whole question should be reopened, at the end of ten years. Their views were set forth at great length in two voluminous Minutes, drawn up respectively by Mr. Shore and Lord Coruwallis. The Court of Directors gave their sanction to his Lordships views; and accordingly the settle- ment was made permanent. The regulations for carrying it out were announced on the 22d of March, 1793. By these, to adopt Mr. Rosss brief statement of their provisions, it was declared, that the settlements were to be perpetual and irrev- ocable; and that all Zemindars, independent Talookdars, and other actual proprietors of land, and their heirs and lawful successors, were 1859.] LIFE OF LOI~D CORNWALLIS. 147 to hold their estates subject only to the fixed amount of tax then set- tled. To this there were but two exceptions. Uncultivated land, when brought into cultivation, was to become subject to a charge then to be fixed, and if any Zemindary was sold or forfeited for non-payment of rent, the government were not to be bound by the previously existing arrangement. If it was escheated by the failure of issue of a Zemin- dar, the government held the land only on the same terms as the last possessor.~~ About the same time two other important reforms were effected, in regard to the composition and jurisdiction of the courts, and in regard to the police regulations, by which a marked improvement was produced in the administration of justice. But it is not necessary for us at the present time to enter into any examination of the changes introduced in the judicial system and the police arrangements. They belong more properly to the general history of India, since numer- ous additional changes have been since introduced, and others must inevitably follow. They were among the last subjects which engaged his Lordships attention; and having already remained in India much longer than he intended, he sailed for England in October, 1793. He was succeeded in the Gov- ernor-Generalship by his friend and former adviser, Sir John Shore, afterwards created Lord Teignmouth. Notwithstanding the diversity of opinion in regard to some of the measures of Lord Cornwalliss first Indian adminis- tration, it has in general received the cordial approbation of historians. Nor does this praise seem ill-deserved. His gov- ernment was economical; its policy was pacific; its dealings with the natives were just and humane. Abuses which his predecessors had sanctioned or encouraged, were corrected; reforms were introduced, to the great advantage of the Com- panys finances; and new regulations were framed for the benefit of the oppressed inhabitants. His own conduct was firm, upright, and energetic; and probably no man ever left India with hands less sullied by unlawful gains. On two occasions his admirable qualifications for the government of a great empire were especially conspicuous. When Tippoo attacked the Rajah of Travancore, Lord Cornwallis did not hesitate for a moment in regard to the policy to be adopted; 148 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, and by his prudence and energy he soon brought the war to a successful termination. In settling the revenue question he exhibited unwearied industry in investigating details, and considerable acuteness in detecting general principles. In dealing with less important questions, he exhibited the same characteristics; and on the whole, it must be conceded that his administration was honorable to himself, advantageous to the Company, and beneficial to India. He landed in England early in the following February; and after a very brief period of rest, he again entered into public affairs with his accustomed zeal and activity. The condition of the country and the general aspect of foreign and domestic politics had greatly changed since he sailed for India, nearly eight years before. Mr. Pitts administration had been in office for more than ten years, and had success- fully resisted every attempt to drive it from power; the impeachment of Warren Hastings had been carried in the House of Commons; his trial before the House of Lords had commenced and been in progress for nearly six years; the great Whig party had been broken up; France had begun her stormy revolutionary period, and the first co~iiition against her had been formed. This period had indeed been one of the most memorable in English history; and upon his arrival Lord Cornwallis found a condition of things which promised him speedy employment. In a little more than three months he was sent to the Continent to ascertain the condition of affairs in the Low Countries, where the allies had several ar- mies in the field, and to endeavor to bring about greater harmony of arrangement, with a view to a more efficient prosecution of the war against France. In this mission he was only partially successful; but subsequently an intimation was conveyed from the Austrian Court to the English Cabinet, that, if the local rank of Field-Marshal in Flanders should be conferred on Lord Cornwallis, it was probable that all the armies would be placed under his command. This step was involved in difficulties and embarrassments, since the first effect of the proposed appointment would be to supersede the IDuke of York, who was then at the head of the English troops on the Continent. Nevertheless, the incapacity 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 149 of the Duke was so apparent, and the advantages to be antici- pated from adopting the proposed plan were so great, that the ministry determined to ask the royal permission to carry it into effect. A Cabinet Minute was accordingly drawn up and laid before his Majesty, exhibiting the reasons for proposing this step, and declaring that, in the opinion of the Cabinet, it was the only step which afforded any chance of repairing the calamities sustained by the allies. The king returned the paper the same day, with a characteristic note to Mr. Pitt, intimating that, if he were in his sons place, he should beg to be allowed to return home, if superseded by Lord Cornwallis, but at the same time expressing his willingness to assent to the proposed appointment. In consequence, however, of vari- ous obstacles, the scheme was soon relinquished. Lord Coruwallis does not appear to have taken any improper share in this transaction; and it is certain that he did not lose the kings favor in consequence of his connection with it. Before the close of the year, propositions were made to him to enter the Cabinet, which were readily accepted; and in February, 1T95, he was appointed Master-General of the Oi~d- nance, with a seat in the Cabinet, in place of the Duke of Richmond. He held this office until June, 1801, and dis- charged its duties with the same energy which he had shown during his Indian administration. The country was placed in a state of defence, and active preparations were made to repel a threatened invasion by the French. Early in 1~97, he was again sworn in as Governor-General of India, in consequence of the alarm universally felt in England at the attitude as- sumed by the officers of the Bengal army in opposition to the new regulations for uniting the kings troops and the Com- panys troops in India. Their discontent had risen to such a dangerous height, that it was feared Sir John Shore did not possess sufficient firmness and decision to cope with the threat- ened mutiny. Accordingly his Lordship was appointed to succeed the Governor-General, and was sworn into office on the 1st of February, but without relinquishing his place in the Cabinet. His departure for India was delayed partly by the mutiny in the fleet at Portsmouth and at the Nore, and partly by other reasons; and ultimately such concessions were made 13 * 150 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, to the discontented officers, that he did not think it necessary or advisable to proceed on his voyage. On the 2d of August he resigned his appointment, and was succeeded by Lord Mornington, better known as the Marquis Wellesley. With the resignation of his second appointment as Governor- General of India, we enter upon the third great period in Lord Cornwalliss life, that which includes his government of Ireland. As early as the preceding May, intimations had been thrown out that it was not improbable the command of the army in Ireland would be conferred upon him. Various delays, however, occurred in arranging the matter; and it was not until June in the following year that he received and accepted the double appointment of Lord Lieutenant and Commander-in-Chief of the Forces in Ireland. He arrived in Dublin on the 20th, and immediately assumed the manage- ment of affairs, but without any very pleasant anticipations. He had not been in Ireland a fortnight when he wrote to the Duke of Portland, The life of a Lord Lieutenant of Ireland comes up to my idea of perfect misery; but if I can accomplish the great object of consolidating the British empire, I shall be sufficiently repaid. Certainly the prospect before him was by no means pleasing, whilst the actual condition of things was such as to make his position one of much difficulty and anxiety. Of all the situations which I ever held, he wrote to General Ross on the 9th of July, the present is, by far, the most intolerable to me, and I have often within this last fortnight wished myself back in Bengal. A powerful and widely-extended organization, known as the United Irishmen, had been formed for the purpose of overturning the English authority; the hostile factions regarded each other with the most intense animosity, and gave themselves up to acts of the utmost barbarity; murders and pillagings succeeded one an- other with a frightful rapidity, which only too plainly showed that all the accumulated hatred of previous generations had now found expression; a considerable part of the island was in a state of open rebellion; and it was evident that the most energetic measures could alone preserve the existing connec- tion of England and Ireland, and the authority of the Eng- lishry over the aboriginal inhabitants. To meet this condition 1859.] LIFE OF LORD COUNWALLIS. 151 of things was no easy matter; and the new Lord Lieutenant had therefore been intrusted with the most extensive powers, and had been authorized to exercise a large discretion in their use. The capture of Wexford by General Moore, on the 21st of June, and the total dispersion of the rebels at Vinegar Hill on the same day, removed some of his difficulties; and his first embarrassment arose from uncertainty as to the best manner of dealing with the state prisoners who had fallen into his hands in consequence of these successes and by previous ar- rests. But on the 22d of August a body of French troops, under General ilumbert, landed in Killala Bay, in the prov- ince of Connaught, and a few days later totally routed a much larger detachment of the English army, under General Lake, at Castlebar. On receiving intelligence of this unfortunate affair, Lord Coruwallis prepared at once to take the field in person. The result was, the surrender of the whole French army to General Lake, who was again in command of a di- vision of the English forces, on the 8th of September, at Ballynamuck, a little village in the very heart of the island. This victory terminated all fears of an invasion by the French; and his Lordship was not again called into the field while he remained in Ireland. He was thus enabled, at a very early period, to turn his whole attention to the pacification of the country and the punishment of the leaders in the rebellion. In discharging this duty he offended both parties, one by his leniency, the other by his severity. As early as the 29th of July, he had written to General Ross: My conduct hitherto has got me abused by both sides, as might naturally be ex- pected, being too coercive for the one, and too lenient for the other; I trust, however, it will terminate advantageously for the country, and consequently with satisfaction to myself. Placed between two races who hated each other with an hered- itary hatred which had lost none of its ancient venom, Lord Cornwallis saw, with a clearer eye than did the statesmen around hiu~, the absolute necessity of conciliating the subject race by a humane and liberal course, and of moderating the rancor and bloodthirstiness of the adherents of the govern- ment. The principal personages here, he says, in a secret 152 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, and confidential letter to the Duke of Portland, dated Septem- ber 16, who have long been in the habit of directing the councils of the Lords Lieutenant, are perfectly well-intentioned and entirely attached and devoted to the British connection; but they are blinded by their passions and prejudices, talk of nothing but strong measures, and arrogate to themselves the exclusive knowledge of a country, of which, from their mode of governing it, they have, in my opinion, proved themselves totally ignorant. And in the same letter he tells his Grace, that he has made no further progress in solving the question, How this country can be governed and preserved, and ren- dered a source of strength and power, instead of remaining an useless and almost intolerable burden to Great Britain, than to satisfy himself that a perseverance in the system which has hitherto been pursued, can only lead us from bad to worse, and, after exhausting the resources of Britain, must en din the total separation of the two countries.~~ Upon this view he acted; and it will be readily admitted that his policy was wise and merciful, affording an honorable contrast to his conduct in the American war. Lord Edward Fitzgerald and some others were attainted by an act of the Irish Parliament; the priest OCoigley, the brothers Sheares, Cornelius Grogan, Bagenal Beau& hamp Harvey, and a few more of the prominent leaders in the rebellion, were executed; Wolfe Tone escaped the same penalty by committing suicide; and others were banished or made their escape to foreign lands, where they entered the military service of their adopted country, or, like Emmet, rose to distinction at the bar. The whole number of arrests was very large; but the number of executions was comparatively small, owing partly to the dif- ficulty of obtaining sufficient evidence to convict the prison- ers, and partly to Lord Cornwalliss disinclination to a harsh policy. Nevertheless, between the landing of the French in the summer of 1~98, and the following February, three hun- dred and eighty persons were tried under martial law, of whom one hundred and thirty-one were capitally~ convicted, and ninety were executed. Nearly as many more were con- ditionally pardoned. Such was the end of the rebellion of 1798, which for a time caused the greatest alarm both in Eng 1859.] LIFE OF LORD COUNWALLIS. 153 land and Ireland. Like every previous and every subsequent uprising of the aboriginal Irish, it terminated disastrously for those engaged in it. It led, however, to the adoption of one of the most impor- tant, and, as we believe, one of the most beneficial measures, since the first subjugation of Ireland by the English. The history of the means by which the legislative Union of Great Britain and Ireland was finally effected, and the various steps which marked the progress of the measure, are detailed at great length in Lord Cornwalliss Correspondence, and much light is thrown upon them. The first mention of the proposed Union occurs soon after the suppression of the rebellion. The principal heads of the measure, as agreed upon by the min- istry in England, were communicated to Lord Cornwallis by the Duke of Portland, at that time Secretary of State for the Home Department, in a letter dated November 12, 1Th8. His Lordship at once began to ascertain the sentiments of the principal personages in regard to it; and, a week after re- ceiving the Duke of Portlands letter, he wrote to General Ross: I have no great doubts of being able to carry the measure here, but I have great apprehensions of the inefficacy of it after it is carried, and I do not think it would have been much more difficult to have included the Catholics. Four days later he was enabled to communicate to the Duke of Portland the first impressions of many influential persons. There was, however, a strong opposition to this measure in various quarters, and especially among the members of the bar. On both sides the effect of bribery and corruption was tried; and on the 23d of November, Lord Castlereagh, at that time Chief Secretary for Ireland, wrote to Mr. Wickham, Under Secretary of State for the Home Department: The principal provincial newspapers have been secured, and every attention will be paid to the press generally. A few weeks later, Lord Castlereagh wrote to the same correspondent: Already we feel the want, and indeed the absolute necessity, of the primum mobile. We cannot give that activity to the press which is requi~ite. We have good materials amongst the young barristers, but we cannot expect them to waste their time and starve into the bargain. I know the difficulties, and 154 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, shall respect them as much as possible, in the extent of our expenditure; but notwithstanding every difficulty, I cannot help most earnestly requesting to receive 5,000 in bank- notes by the first messenger. The money was sent, and its receipt was acknowledged in a short and very cautiously worded note. The contents of the messengers despatches, so the note runs, are very interesting. Arrangements with a view to further communications of the same nature will be highly advantageous, and the Duke of Portland may depend on their being carefully applied. Intimidation was also used to influence votes; and on the 21st of December the Lord Lieutenant was officially informed that the kings government were determined to press the measure, as essential to the wellbeing of both countries, and particularly to the security and peace of Ireland, as dependent on its connection with Great Britain; that the object would be urged to the utmost, and if it failed at that time, it would be renewed until it proved successful; and that the conduct of individuals on this subject would be considered as the test of their dispqsition to support the Kings govern- ment. It was in this condition of affairs that the subject came before the Irish Parliament in January, 1799, in the debate on the Address in answer to the Kings Speech at the opening of the session. In the House of Lords the discussion did not last long, and the division was favorable to the plan of Union. But the sitting of the House of Commons was of extraordinary length, and continued without intermission from four oclock on Tuesday afternoon until one oclock on Wednesday afternoon. In the division on the Amendment to the Address, moved by the opponents of a legislative Union, 105 voted in favor of the Amendment, and 106 against it. In a second division, 107 voted in favor of the original Address, and 105 against it. This result was entirely unexpected by the government; and a few days afterward, Lord Castlereagh, who had the chief management of the Parliamentary intrigues, transmitted an analysis of the vote to the Duke of Portland, in which he states that 22 members had voted against the Address who were expected to vote in favor of it, most of them having distinctly promised support. Of the opponents LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 155 1859.] of Union, he thought that twenty might be bought off. Nevertheless, both Lord Cornwallis and Lord Castlereagh en- tertained strong doubts whether, under the circumstances, the plan of a Union of Great Britain and Ireland could be brought forward in that session with any chance of success; and they determined not to press the matter any further. The ques- tion was accordingly suffered to drop, and both parties began to prepare for an animated struggle the next year. During the summer, Lord Cornwallis made a tour through several of the Irish counties, for the purpose of confirming the wavering, conciliating the discontented, and smoothing the way for the great Parliamentary battle of the next winter. Meetings were held for the purpose of voting addresses in favor of Union; money was freely asked for from England; and many persons were removed from office as a punishment for their opposition or lukewarm support. For this petty intriguing Lord Coruwallis had a profound aversion; yet he entered into it with spirit, as the only means by which the Union could be carried in a country so addicted to jobbing. The political jobbing of this country gets the better of me, he wrote to General Ross on the 20th of May; it has ever been the wish of my life to avoid all this dirty business, and I am now involved in. it beyond all bearing, and am consequently more wretched than ever. I trust that I shall live to get out of this most cursed of all situations, and most repugnant to my feelings. How I long to kick those whom my public duty obliges me to court! If I did not hope to get out of this country, I should most earnestly pray for immediate death. No man, I am sure, ever experienced a more wretched existence; and after all, I doubt whether it is possible to save the country. Nor were the Opposition less industrious or more scrupulous. On their side meetings were also held, at which inflammatory speeches were made and addresses were adopted; petitions and remonstrances were widely circulated and numerously signed; and a fund was raised for the purchase of votes and other corrupt purposes. After the great debate of the 5th of February, 1800, Lord Castlereagh wrote to the Duke of Port- land in reference to the division: Sir R. Butler, Mahon, and Featherstone were taken off by county cabals during the recess, and Whaley absolutely bought by the Opposition 156 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, stock-purse. He received, I understand, 2,000 down, and is to receive as much more after the service is performed. We have undoubted proofs, Lord Castlereagh adds, though not such as we can disclose, that they are enabled to offer as high as 5,000 for an individual vote; and I lament to state that there are individuals remaining amongst us that are likely to yield to this temptation. At the same time Lord Cornwallis wrote to his brother, the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry: The enemy, to my certain knowledge, offer 5,000 ready money for a vote. Such was the state of public morality in Ireland at the time of the Union; and by such means and against such opposition was the measure finally carried. Having spent the summer and fall in these dirty intrigues, both parties were ready for the contest on the opening of Par- liament in January, 1800. The principal leaders on the side of the government were Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer. On the side of the Opposition were Mr. Grattan, Mr. George Ponsonby, afterward leader of the Opposition in the Imperial House of Commons, Sir John Parnell, late Chancellor, Mr. Foster, Speaker of the House, Sir Lawrence Parsons, and others. In the debate on the Ad- dress in answer to the Kings Speech at the opening of the session, government had the decided advantage; and the prin- ciple of Union was supported in the House of Commons by a vote of 138 to 96. A few weeks later a second division took place, on the question of taking into consideration the Kings message relative to a legislative Union of Great Britain and Ireland, in which government again triumphed by a vote of 158 against 115, the largest division ever known in the Irish House of Commons. In the House of Lords, on a test ques- tion, the principle of Union was likewise affirmed by a vote of 75 to 26. In the subsequent divisions the majorities in the two Houses were not materially changed, though the struggle was conducted on both sides with great bitterness, resulting in one case in a duel. In the debate on the preliminary reso- lution to the Articles of Union, Mr. Grattan replied with much warmth to Mr. Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer, who had attacked him on a former occasion. Mr. Corry retorted with equal spirit, accusing Mr. Grattan of living in familiarity 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 157 with rebels, and being a conniver at their plans to overthrow the country. To this speech Mr. Grattan replied on the same evening with still greater bitterness. As soon as Mr. Grattan sat down, Mr. Corry sent a message to him by a mili- tary friend; and at daybreak, while the committee was still in session, they left the House to seek satisfaction in another place. Mr. Corry was wounded in the arm at the first fire; but notwithstanding this result, both parties fired a second time, though without effect. An immense mob, we are told, had assembled, and so great was the frenzy of the peo- ple, that, had Mr. Grattan fallen, Mr. Corry would probably not have left the ground alive. The sheriff, who was present, would not interfere officially, but endeavored to effect an ami- cable arrangement. In England, the Union was carried by very great majorities, though not without opposition on the part of the Whigs; and on the 12th of May Lord Cornwallis sent a message to the two Houses of the Irish Parliament, communicating the resolutions adopted by the British Parliament.* Nine days afterward, Lord Castlereagh moved for leave to bring in a Bill for the Union of Great Britain and Ireland; and leave was accord- ingly granted, by a vote of 160 to 100. The bill was at once introduced, and was speedily carried through both Houses, by considerable majorities; and on the 1st of August Lord Corn- wallis gave the royal assent to the Act of Union. Meanwhile, it had become necessary to arrange the promotions to the peerage, and the other rewards to the principal advocates of the measure. Accordingly, early in June the Lord Lieutenant transmitted to England two letters, embracing the names of those who had received encouragement that they would be raised to the British peerage, or that they would have Irish titles conferred on them. The list is long and curious, as showing the extent to which the influence of the crown had been exerted; and it appears to have taken the ministry somewhat by surprise. On the 12th and 13th of June, the Duke of Port- * In consequence of the secession of Mr. Fox and the extreme weakness of the Whig party, the opposition to the Union in the British Parliament was much less formidable than it was in Ireland. Lord Holland and Mr. Grey spoke against the measure; but they were supported by very small minorities. VOL. Lxxxix. NO. 184. 14 158 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, land wrote to Lord Cornwallis, pretty clearly intimating that little or nothing could be done in the proposed way, and that his Lordship must try to find some other mode of satisfying the supporters of the Union. Both Lord Cornwallis and Lord Castlereagh were naturally indignant at this wholesale repudi- ation of their engagements. On the 17th, the former wrote a long secret and confidential letter, full of grief and in- dignation, to the Duke of Portland, restating the claims of some of the persons in his list, and intimating his intention of resigning unless he could perform his part of the bargain. His Majesty, he writes, will, I am persuaded, see the neces- sity of my baying entered into embarrassing engagements according to the various circumstances which occurred during the long and arduous contest, and if any of them should ap- pear so strongly to merit his disapprobation as to induce him to withhold bis coiisent to their being carried into effect, he will be pleased to allow me to retire from a station which I could no longer hold with honor to myself, or with any pros- pect of advantage to his service. The Correspondence of Lord Castlereagh affords abundant evidence of his indignation. If the Irish government, he says in a letter to Lord Cam- den, the late Lord Lieutenant, is not enabled to keep faith with the various individuals who have acted upon a principle of confidence in their honor, it is morally impossible that either Lord Cornwallis or myself can remain in our present situa- tions; it will remain a breach of faith as injurious to the char- acter of government as to our own, having given an assurance which we were not enabled to fulfil. These representations had the desired effect; the ministry yielded; and, with a few exceptions, the desired honors were conferred according to Lord Coruwalliss plan. Little now remained to be done except to perfect the ar- rangements rendered necessary by the new order of things; and no event of much importance marked the few remaining months of his Lordships government. With a view of afford- ing greater security to the island in the event of an invasion, he recommended that two or three fortresses should be con- structed in advantageous positions, to serve as a basis of operations for repelling such an attack, and for collecting 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 159 troops for the defence of the country. The plan was not carried out, however, and a similar recomi~iendation was afterward brought forward by the Duke of Wellington, when Chief Secretary for Ireland. Another measure of even greater importance for the peace and security of Ireland was also fre- quently and strongly recommended to the ministry by Lord Cornwallis; but it was equally without success, though from a very different cause. At a very early period he had become convinced that the full benefit to be anticipated from the Union of England and Ireland could be obtained only by granting some concessions to the Catholics; and he appears to have given them encouragement that some concessions would be made. For this course Mr. Pitt and several of his principal associates in the administration were fully prepared; but in the bigotry of George III. an insuperable obstacle ex- isted. The slightest reference to Catholic Emancipation was sufficient to unsettle his feeble and tottering intellect; and an attack of his malady at this time is commonly ascribed to the excitement occasioned by opening the Catholic Question. It was under these circumstances that Mr. Pitt and most of his more immediate supporters resigned, in the early part of 1801, and Mr. Addington, at that time Speaker of the House of Commons, became Prime Minister. The reasons which induced Mr. Pitts resignation, though often discussed, have never been satisfactorily ascertained; and probably it will always remain doubtful whether he resigned from an unwillingness to remain in office after he found that he could not grant the desired concessions to the Catholics, or from some other motive of a less honorable character.* The letters and other documents printed in the * In the admirable sketch of the younger Pitt which Lord Macaulay has con. tributed to the new edition of the Encyc1op~dia Britannica, he bestows high praise on Pitts policy in regard to the Union and the Catholics; but he says nothing upon the subject of Pitts resignation. It is true, indeed, that near the end of this account the great historian says: The toast of Protestant ascendency was drunk on Pitts birthday by a set of Pittites, who could not but be aware that Pitt had resigned his office because he could not carry Catholic Emancipation. But probably nothing more is meant by this expression than would be involved in the statement, that Pitt made the kings refusal to grant the Catholic claims the pre. text for his resignation. There can be no doubt that Mr. Pitt and his friends were 160 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, Coruwallis Correspondence furnish some additional evidence in regard to (line point which was not at all doubtful before, that Mr. Pitt was strongly in favor of granting relief to the Catholics; but beyond this the whole subject must still remain an open question. Nevertheless, the inability of the ministers to obtain the kings permission to bring forward any measure of the proposed character, was the reason assigned for their resignation. Their withdrawal from office on this ground afforded Lord Cornwallis the long-desired opportunity to return to England. So long as Ireland was in an unsettled state, he had been unwilling to expose government and the people to the dangers which he anticipated from any change of policy by his successor. But now that the Union had been carried, and was generally acquiesced in by both parties in Ireland, and his political friends were no longer at the head of affairs in England, he became anxious to relinquish a position which had always been extremely distasteful to him. At length his resignation was accepted, and Lord Hardwicke was appointed his successor. The new Lord Lieutenant did not arrive until the 25th of May, when he was immediately sworn into office, and Lord Cornwallis at once returned to England. Thus terminated one of the ablest and most successful administrations which Ireland had known for centuries. By the wisdom and moderation of his policy, Lord Cornwallis had restored tranquillity to that distracted country. He had crushed a dangerous rebellion, and had given peace and security to the terrified inhabitants; he had carried the legis- lative Union of Great Britain and Ireland against all oppo- very desirous that this should be regarded as the true reasou for their resignation. The motives I and my colleagues have assigned for our resignation, drawn from the Popery Question, said Dundas to Sir James Mackintosh, no historian will believe; and if any mentions it, he will treat it as a mere pretext to cover the real motive; and he will support his representation by very plausible arguments; yet nothing can be more true than that the reason we assigned was the real one. Yet the reasons for entertaining a different opinion are so strong, that one may well be pardoned for a little incredulity. If it is true that Pitt resigned on this account, his subsequent offer to continue in the Cabinet without pressing the question, and without communicating with his colleagues, was in the highest de~rce discreditable. The whole subject, however, is beset with difficulties; and in either vie~v, Mr. Pitts course is deserving of censure. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD COENWALLIS. 161 sition, though by means which would have better become the age of Sir Robert Walpole; and he had laid a firm foundation for a better state of things. He had not, however, accom- plished all that he desired, or all that he deemed essential for the future well-being of Ireland. The bigotry of George III. had prevented him from giving relief to the Catholic popu- lation; and without a relaxation of the laws under which they groaned, he felt that his work was but half done. He had accomplished much, and for this he deserves to be held in lasting honor. But a great work still remained to be accomplished under happier auspices; and it was natural that he should desire to seek repose at the close of an adminis- tration so crowded with memorable events. But a new duty was before him. He had acted the first part in one of the most memorable transactions of Mr. Pitts administration. He was now to act the first part in the most memorable transaction of Mr. Addingtons administration. In the latter part of the year he was appointed the British plenipotentiary to negotiate the definitive treaty of peace with France, in accordance with the preliminary articles already arranged. Ainiens was selected as the place of meeting; and on the 3d of November lie sailed from Dover, and immedi- ately on reaching Calais he hastened at once to Paris. Here he was received with much honor, and spent between three and four weeks, during which time he had several interviews with the First Consul, but without entering into any direct negotiations. On the 30th he proceeded to Amiens to meet Joseph Bonaparte, who had been intrusted with the manage- ment of the negotiations on the part of France. The ne- gotiations were steadily carried on; but so numerous were the difficulties and delays, that it was not until the 2~Tth of March, 1802, that the treaty was signed. The terms of this peace were much criticised in England at the time, and votes of censure were moved in Parliament by Lord Grenville and Mr. Windham; but the popular feeling was strongly on the side of the treaty, and it was supported by most of the friends of both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, as well as by the adherents of Mr. Addington. In the conduct of the negotiations Lord Coruwallis had exhibited much caution, and considerable clear- 14 * 162 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, ness and force of understanding; but beyond this very mod- erate degree of praise it is impossible to go. He had had no diplomatic training, and if he had not had frequent recourse to the home government, or if he had been obliged to deal with a more accomplished and abler man in the person of the French plenipotentiary, he would probably have made a much less creditable figure. As it was, he loses nothing by a com- parison with the French envoy; and it must be conceded that the interests of his country suffered no injury from any neg- lect or want of foresight on his part. Immediately on the conclusion of the peace he returned to England; and for the next three years he lived in compara- tive retirement, spending most of his time at Culford. In the Parliamentary business of the period, and in the intrigues which led to the overthrow of the feeble administration of Mr. Addington, he appears to have taken little or no part. A life of inaction was, however, far from congenial to him; and though he was advanced in years, and his health was much broken, he readily accepted the appointment of Governor- General of India to replace Lord Wellesley, whose policy had been equally distasteful to tbe East India Company and to the ministry.* Departing from the pacific policy of Lord Cornwallis and Sir John Shore, Lord Wellesley had entered into various subsidiary treaties, as they were called, which could scarcely fail to involve the Company in expensive wars growing out of the disputes of the native princes. At the same time he had indicated a determination to bring all the independent powers in India under British influence, and both by conquest and negotiation to extend the authority of the British name. Neither the Court of Directors, nor the Board of Control, then under the Presidency of Lord Castlereagh, was prepared to sanction this line of conduct; and early in 1805, as we have said, Lord Coruwallis was appointed Gov- ernor-General of India for the third time. * Mr. Homer tells us in his Journal, that in June, 1804, he received an application from the East India Company to write a pamphlet explanatory of the views now entertained in Leadenhall Street, with respect to the extension of their Eastern do- minions, and an examination of the Governor-Generals conduct in the late or pres- ent war against the Mahrattas. To this proposal he signified his assent, and he appears to have entered warmly into their views; but it is believed that the design was afterwards relinquished. 1859.] LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 163 During the voyage out, his health gradually failed; and when he arrived in Calcutta, on the 29th of July, his condi- tion afforded little reason to hope that he would accomplish the duty he had undertaken. Yet his mental activity was unabated, and on the following day he was sworn into office. His first step was to adopt efficient measures for the restora- tion of peace; and on the very day on which he took the oaths of office he wrote to Lord Lake, who was in command of the army acting against Holkar: It is my earnest desire, if it should be possible, to put an end to this most unprofitable and ruinous warfare; and as the actual season of the rains must necessarily suspend any material military operations, I should wish that you would not engage in any act of aggres- sion, unless it might appear to be necessary in order to secure your own army from serious danger, until I come to you, or you can have further communication with me. These direc- tions were repeated on the 4th of August; and on the 8th, he left Calcutta for the Upper Provinces, in order to be nearer the scene of operations, and to take advantage of any favor- able circumstances which might arise. During his voyage up the Ganges he declined in strength, though it was hoped by his friends and attendants that he might revive on reaching a cooler climate. But before reaching Ghazipore, in the prov- ince of Benares, where he arrived on the 27th of September, all hope of his recovery or amendment had vanished. There he died on the 5th of October, 1805, in the sixty-seventh year of his age, and a little more than two months after his arrival in India. The death of Lord Coruwallis occasioned a deep and nearly universal sense of loss throughout India. In Calcutta a pub- lic meeting was at once held, and a subscription was raised to defray the expense of erecting a mausoleum to his memory at Ghazipore. To this object the citizens of Bombay like- wise contributed, and they also determined to procure a statue for a conspicuous place in their own city, as a further tribute of their admiration.* A statue had been erected in Madras * Sir James Mackintosh was one of the committee appointed to carry out this in. tention. The letter which he wrote to Mr. Flaxman in regard to the proposed statue is printed at length in the first volume of the Life of Mackintosh by his son, 164 LIFE OF LORD CORNWALLIS. [July, some years before, and there it was decided to give expression to the public feelings by building a cenotaph to his memory. In England, Lord Castlereagh moved in the House of Com- mons that a commemorative statue should be placed in St. Pauls Cathedral; and in accordance with this proposition a monument was subsequently erected there, which has been greatly admired on account of the beauty of some of its alle- gorical representations. In addition to these various tributes of sincere respect for Lord Coruwalliss administrative capacity, and his fidelity in the discharge of every duty, the East India Company voted a grant of 40,000 to his family. During his life honors and emoluments had been freely granted to him; and a cordial recognition of his claims to the gratitude of his countrymen marked the close of his long and patriotic career. He was not, it is true, a man of great original capacity. Nor were his powers much cultivated by early education. Yet he possessed considerable intellectual force, and great tenacity of purpose. Though he was often appointed to dif- ficult and responsible positions, he seldom failed to exhibit the necessary ability for the prompt and efficient performance of his various duties. His character was pure and upright; and his integrity was unquestioned. His political opinions were moderate; his temper was pacific, though he was trained to a military career; and in general he was humane and liberal in his treatment of other men. His life was rich in opportuni- ties for rendering great public services; and his name is in- separably connected with some of the most important events in English history. and contains some judicious observations on the character of the late Marquis. I need not tell you, he says, that the character of Marquis Cornwallis was more respectable than dazzling Prudence, moderation, integrity, pacific spirit, clemency, were very remarkable qualities in Marquis Corawalliss character. Re- ferrin~ to the Zemindar Settlement, he adds, It was a noble measure of paternal legislation, though I know not whether it could be represented in marble. It is also stated in the Life of Mackintosh, that Sir James wrote the sermon preached at Bombay after the death of Lord Corawallis, and subsequently printed under tbe name of the Senior Chaplain. We presume that the Character of Lord Corawallis in Mackintoshs Miscellaneous Works is taken from this discourse. 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 165 ART. V. 1. The British and Foreign Medical Review. Vols. XXI. and XXII. 1846. 2. Nature and Disease, illustrated in various Discourses and Essays. To which are added Miscellaneous Writings, chiefly on Medical Subjects. By JACOB BIGELOW, M. D., Physician and Lecturer on Clinical Medicine in the Massa- chusetts General Hospital, Professor of Materia Medica in Harvard University, President of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, & c., & c. Boston. 1854. Second Edition, enlarged. 1859. 3. Of Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease. By SIR JOHN FORBES, M. ID., D. C. L. (Oxon.), F. II. S., Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, Physician to the Queens Household, etc., etc. London. 1857. 4. Rational Therapeutics: a Prize Essay. By WORTHINGTON HOOKER, M. ID. Publications of the Massachusetts Medical Society. Vol. I. No. II. Boston. 1857. 5. Brief Expositions of Rational Medicine: to which is pre- fixed, The Paradise of Doctors, a Fable. By JACOB BIGE- LOW, M.D. Boston. 1858. Nous avons chang6 tout cela, et nous faisons maintenant la m6decine dune m6thode toute nouvelle. Thus replies the M6decin Malgr~ Lui to the objection, that he has located the heart upon the right, and the liver upon the left side of the body of his patient. Scarcely more reasonable to the world at large seem the explanations of many of the changes in mod- ern medicine. The bitter satire of Moliere on the faculty, which may be traced through most of his comedies, though particularly prominent in LAmour M~decin, Le Malade Imaginaire, and the play above quoted, while it follows the coarser wit of the clyster-school of IRabelais, and the San- grado theories of Le Sage and Cervantes, unfortunately still possesses enough of verisimilitude to render it readily recog- nized and relished by the non-professional reader of to-day. For though the bold heroism of the older schools, who, two centuries ago, reposed most confidence in the simple ordon- nance, saigner et faire boire de leau chaude, which consti

1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 165 ART. V. 1. The British and Foreign Medical Review. Vols. XXI. and XXII. 1846. 2. Nature and Disease, illustrated in various Discourses and Essays. To which are added Miscellaneous Writings, chiefly on Medical Subjects. By JACOB BIGELOW, M. D., Physician and Lecturer on Clinical Medicine in the Massa- chusetts General Hospital, Professor of Materia Medica in Harvard University, President of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, & c., & c. Boston. 1854. Second Edition, enlarged. 1859. 3. Of Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease. By SIR JOHN FORBES, M. ID., D. C. L. (Oxon.), F. II. S., Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, Physician to the Queens Household, etc., etc. London. 1857. 4. Rational Therapeutics: a Prize Essay. By WORTHINGTON HOOKER, M. ID. Publications of the Massachusetts Medical Society. Vol. I. No. II. Boston. 1857. 5. Brief Expositions of Rational Medicine: to which is pre- fixed, The Paradise of Doctors, a Fable. By JACOB BIGE- LOW, M.D. Boston. 1858. Nous avons chang6 tout cela, et nous faisons maintenant la m6decine dune m6thode toute nouvelle. Thus replies the M6decin Malgr~ Lui to the objection, that he has located the heart upon the right, and the liver upon the left side of the body of his patient. Scarcely more reasonable to the world at large seem the explanations of many of the changes in mod- ern medicine. The bitter satire of Moliere on the faculty, which may be traced through most of his comedies, though particularly prominent in LAmour M~decin, Le Malade Imaginaire, and the play above quoted, while it follows the coarser wit of the clyster-school of IRabelais, and the San- grado theories of Le Sage and Cervantes, unfortunately still possesses enough of verisimilitude to render it readily recog- nized and relished by the non-professional reader of to-day. For though the bold heroism of the older schools, who, two centuries ago, reposed most confidence in the simple ordon- nance, saigner et faire boire de leau chaude, which consti 166 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, tuted the medical knowledge, principle, and practice of Gil Blass preceptor, has yielded to a mild and sometimes weak expectancy, enough of wavering judgment, uncertain results, and contradictory theories remains to render the weakness of the medical art apparent to any one, in the course of the ordinary vicissitudes of life. Medicine can never be an exact science, since it deals with the vital principle, a principle in itself changeable, self- supporting, and self-regnlating. Vital force, though a con- venient refuge for the idle theorist, is the great perturbative element which renders the results attained by the faithful stu- dent of nature approximate rather than precise. The calm test of experiment and the pure logic of analysis in organic chemistry are rendered uncertain, through an imperfect knowl- edge of its laws. Chemical processes, which duly carried out under similar circumstances give always the same result in the laboratory, are often wholly and inexplicably changed in the living organism. Pharmaceutical combinations, whose just proportionment and harmonious qualities afford to the pre- scriber flattering promise of the best effects, may be altered to irritants, andevenpoisons,bythe action of the animal fluids, to which they must be subjected for absorption into the human system. Hence, unlike the practical arts based on the exact sciences, where, as in mechanics, we can rely upon certain defi- nite and unchangeable results from the application of certain positive laws, the art of medicine does not respond unerringly to the discoveries in medical science. And therefore we find, that,. although anatomy and physiology, both natural and mor- bid, have made such immense progress, yet therapeutics is still far behind them; that the power of healing is much inferior to the capacity of knowing; the treatment, to the diagnosis of the disease. That instinct of self-preservation, not only from bodily danger, but also from physical suffering, which is a common atlribute of our humanity, must have rendered some knowl- edge of the care of the sick coeval with the earliest adult generation of men. The nurse was born with Eve; the art of medicine sprang from the first experiences of life. Whoever foresaw empirically the hurtful consequences of certain acts, 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 16T and advised their avoidance, exercised the noblest the preven- tive branch of medicine. Whoever relieved empirically the consequences of the committed act, was the first curer or healer. Yet we do not find the history of medicine as old as the art, for the most ancient records which we possess are those of the school at Cos, but a few centuries before the Christian era. There were but two sources to which medicine could be reasonably traced. The majority of the ancients gratefully ascribed it to the gods; but the philosophic mind of Pliny, and other observers of nature, referred much of the medical knowledge of their day to the instructive teachings of dumb animals. Thus the wild goats of Crete showed the use of vulneraries; dogs, when indisposed, sought the Triticum re- pens, and so introduced that pleasing demulcent to man; cattle with the dropsy anxiously looked for chalybeate waters; and the hippopotamus (mirabile dictu!) performed self-venesec- tion to relieve his plethora. However begotten or born, the divine art had grown to very respectable proportions in the time of Hippocrates. The doctors were already numerous, and the profession very lucrative. Some class its progress with that in architecture and sculpture ; and we may reason- ably conclude that it reached an advancement in and through Hippocrates, which, in certain departments, succeeding cen- turies have hardly yet surpassed. That greatest of physicians originated the expectant theory of treatment; taught the uses of regiminal means; uttered aphorisms, which are still famil- iar in our mouths, and prescribed an oath to the medical graduate, which is even now administered in some universities, and whose obligations, if they could be made legally binding upon all sorts of practitioners, would remove one of the black- est and most wide-spread crimes of our land.* The exhuma * The following are the chief provisions of the Hippocratic oath: I swear by Apollo, the physician, by i~sculapius, by Hygeia, and Panaccia, and all the gods and goddesses that I will prescribe such a course of regimen as may he best suited to the condition of my patient No inducement shall ever lead me to admfnister poison, nor will I ever he the author of such advice; neither will I contribute to an abortion I will maintain religiously the purity and integrity both of my conduct and of my art If during my attendance I happen to see or hear of any circumstances which should not be revealed, I will consider them a pofound secret May I prosper [or the reverse] as I keep this obligation. 168 NATURE ~ ART IN THE CURE OF flISEASE. [July, tions at Pompeii show surgery to have been equally perfected with many other arts among the ancients, and reveal instru- ments the prototypes, in some instances entirely unchanged, of those which have made the professional fortunes of their modern inventors. The therapeutics of the school of Cos have no reason to blush beside those of London; while they are hardly distinguishable from some of the expectant methods now pursued in Germany and Paris. Yet such is the perverseness of man, or rather such the seemingly crab-like progression in all search for truth, that the voice of the great medical philosopher had hardly ceased to be heard by his pupils, ere the influence of his teachings began to wane. New and more perturbative theories sup- planted his gentle laws, and heroic medicine began to curse the human race. Five centuries sufficed for the birth, active influence, and decay of an equal number of medical sects, the Dogmatici, Empirici, Methodici, Pneumatici, and Eclectici. The names alone of two of these remain. Em- pines and eclectics are appellations now confined to irreg- ular practitioners ; though all medical art is yet to some extent empirical, and every honest physician should be an eclectic, in the proper acceptation of the word. The leeches of the Middle Age, with their simples and charms, used probably more harmless modes of medication, and were not sufficiently bold theorists to attract public attention. Later, the Humorists and Solidists divided the medical world. The pharmacy of two centuries ago was fearful to contemplate. The value of a prescription was measured by its length. The noted Antidotum ]Uiithridatum, a popular medicine, contained no less than seventy-two ingredients. The active principle was opium; and the other substances varied from simple bitters, astringents, and aromatics, to such disgusting, if harmless, preparations as the flesh of vipers. And it was hence well named Electuarium opiatum polypharmacum. The pharmacopo~ia was filled with the most singular remedies; but we recollect none which equalled in unpalatableness one advocated in England by the apostle of Homocopathy, an infusion of the pediculus capitis, we presume the domestic variety. 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 169 In spite of the influence of such miiids and discoveries as those of Harvey, Jenner, Hunter, and Bichht, therapeutics continued a prey to the most violent internecine feuds. Treat-. ment oscillated between such extremes as the antimonial course of IRasori, and the bleeding coup sur coup of Bouillaud. Etiology, in the hands of the most opposite characters, was content to trace all maladies to a single cause; which materies morbi Broussais located in the alimentary canal, but Hahne-. mann upon the skin. A tendency to return to the neglected rules of Hippocrates was fostered by Sydenham, Stahl, Boer- haave, and his pupil Van Swieten. Stahl wrote a work on the expectant method of treatment, and Sydenham followed its dictates, with those of common sense, in practice. Cullen, on the other hand, though he purged the pharmacopoeia of many useless combinations, and deserves the merit of giving to cer- tain valuable drugs their due prominence, denounced the mild resources of the expectant method, and advocated active med- ication. In this course he was followed farthest by the cele- brated Dr. Rush in this country, who reposed so much faith in drugs, that he is reported to have said in the lecture-room, As to nature, I would treat it in the sick-chamber as I would a squalling cat, open the door, and drive it out. These fluctuating theories are much to be regretted, not only as having lowered the profession in the public esteem, but still more for their confusing effect upon physicians them- selves. For though the science of the nineteenth century has thrown a flood of light upon our path, in anatomy, physiology, chemistry, and pathology, it cannot be denied that much un- 6ertainty still remains. Two chief sources of doubt and dis- trust annoy the medical student and the young practitioner. He cannot help vacillating among the opposite doctrines which he hears even now expounded; and he discovers very soon in his practice the superiority of medical science to medical art. He probably heard, while an undergraduate, that, if the study of medicine was delightful, its practice was the reverse. The petty annoyances attendant on any pursuit in life, and the tedium of the long probation of expectancy, which he must endure before he gains the public attention and confidence, are evils which the buoyancy of youth and the VOL. LXXXIX.NO. 184. 15 170 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, examples of the past enable him to bear with fortitude, if not with patience. But when he finds that years of preparation, and the conscientious pursuit of every collateral science which could illustrate his main subject, have brought him to the con- viction that all his knowledge will often fail to cure the dis- eases which he has investigated so long, it is not surprising that he should faint with weariness, and totter in doubt as to the worth of all he has acquired. A perusal of the volumes the titles of which we have placed at the head of this article, in this frame of mind, may strengthen the appalling conclusion that his work has been indeed in vain. They will teach him a bitter, but a very wholesome lesson. At any price, we de- mand the truth. Let us see if we cannot derive from them grounds for encouragement, rather than despondency. What more melancholy fact, says a correspondent of Sir John Forbes, writing from Germany, can be presented to the mere pre- scriber when he first enters upon the duties of his benevolent profession, with the enthusiasm of unsoured philanthropy, than the continual as- surance of the Nestors of the profession, that the greater our experi- ence, the more positive the conviction that we can do nothing? But, sir, thanks to you, and to men like Combe, Chadwick, Clark, the young generation see the radiancy of a new light, that warms the heart while it illumines the intellect; and though their path still continues beset with dangers, they feel a firm footing, and the slough of despond is passed. The thoughts that strike us most, after the first feeling of surprise is over on examining the titles and contents of these books, are their philosophic spirit, their modesty, and the prob- ability of their truth. They are all written by old practitioii- ers; men who, if their past lives did not give ample testimony to their honor, could have nothing to gain by their publication. Their reputation is made, their position established, and they have no theories to maintain. They must be sincere to ven- ture so rude a shock on professional and popular prejudices; they must know the truth of what they assert by long expe- rience. The quiet simplicity of their style is the very oppo- site of exaggeration, or loose assertion. They are well aware of the opposition they must encounter from conventionalism, and of this Sir John Forbes speaks 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 171 In medicine, the great majority of practitioners retain the same doctrines and pursue the same practice which they learned in the schools; or, if changing both doctrine and practice, as time and fashion dictate, hold fast, at least, the great fundamental doctrine, impressed upon the very core of their professional heart, namely, that the inter- ference of Art is essential in all cases, and therefore never to be fore- gone.p. 164. His modesty and the object of the work are both well ex- pressed in an extract from Elms Camerarius, on the title-page: Quibusdam saltem profutura Tironibus; . . . . hos docere, his scribere, animus erat, non Eruditis non Doctoribus: quf enim tam sim vanus, ut erudire eruditos ipse minime eruditus pr~esumam? The same idea is again presented, as follows: Having been now actively engaged in the practice of medicine for the long period of fifty years, and having derived therefrom much of the prosperity and happiness that have been my fortunate lot in life, I feel that my profession has claims on me for much more than I have hitherto been able to give it; and as, at my time of life, and in my present state of health, I have no right to look forward to the acquisi- tion of further knowledge in the same field, it is incumbent on me to communicate now any information I may possess, if I am to communi- cate it at all. In doing so, I cannot help being impressed with the feel- ing of solemnity which naturally accompanies any act that is to be the last of its kind. And in this mood, I would fain regard the present work in the light of A Legacy to my Younger Brethren. p. 3. In this article we propose to follow the same order of sub- jects with Dr. Forbes, simply because his work is the most extended of those named as the text for our comments. But we wish to solicit attention to the fact, of which we shonld be proud, that it was here, in Boston, that the profession was first recalled from the study of the perturbative theories of the pre- ceding fifty years to the natural history of disease, and to the old Hippocratic dogma that Nature deserves the credit of a large share of all cures. As early as 1835, Dr. Jacob Bige- low read an Essay on Self-Limited Diseases before the Massa- chusetts Medical Society. It expounded nearly the whole sub- ject; and its quiet and well-chosen arguments and examples carried conviction of its truth. Dr. Forbess first startling 172 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, article on llomceopathy, Allopathy, and Young Physic, in which the autocracy of Nature was broached by him, was not published until 1846. His later and more elaborate work on Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease did not appear till 1857; while in 1854 Dr. Bigelow published his Nature in Disease, which was followed by his Brief Expositions of Rational Medicine, in 1858. While pursuing, as nearly as may be convenient, the order of subjects of the author of Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease, it is obvious that we can find space only for those portions of the other works which have a direct bearing upon this matter. We must therefore reluctantly pass over many parts of Dr. Hookers Prize Essay on Rational Therapeutics, though from it we shall derive some Golden Rules, and the papers of Dr. Bigelow on miscellaneous subjects, as well as his kindly s4ire of The Paradise of Doctors, devoting our attention mainly to his Essays on SelfLimited Diseases,~~ and The Treatment of Disease, and his views on Rational Medicine. Among the errors inseparable from all subjects which are incapable of demonstration, and which must be settled by finite reasoning and opinion, are the different impressions which the same set of phenomena will make on different in- dividuals. Thus is to be explained the fact, that no two men ever get precisely the same ideas of a given case of disease, either as to diagnosis or treatment. So too the influence of temperament and age, quite as much as that of experience, affects the practice of the physician. The conviction of the great autocracy of Nature in the cure of diseases, derived from this source [that of personal experience], is much more widely spread among the senior members of the profes- sion, than is at all believed by the great body of practitioners. It is this conviction influencing their proceedings, that so often makes the practice of these men obnoxious to the charge of inertness from their younger brethren. They are accused of being as inactive as old women, and are indeed accounted as such by the whole band of heroes fresh from the schools, as well as by those of maturer age, whom experience has never taught to doubt respecting the conven- tionalisms of their early training. It is as an old member of this inert 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 178 fraternity, and as the expositor of doctrines sanctioned by their opinions and practice, that I have ventured to take upon myself my present task; and I feel assured that, if I were allowed to adduce the many eminent names who join with me in opinion, whether from the ranks of living or dead physicians, the doctrines I venture to promulgate would meet with much readier acceptance from the profession and the public, than they are likely to do under the authority of any indi- vidual. Forbes, p. 166. Sir John Forbess work may be pretty evenly divided into two distinct parts. The first treats of the Natural History of Disease, and the powers of Nature in its cure; the second discusses the true nature and powers of the Medical Art. The first two chapters are mainly introductory; giving the authors reasons for writing this work, and treating of the prevailing ignorance respecting the power of Nature to cure disease. The constant changes in medical theories we are to regard as the indication of a lively zeal among physicians to improve their art; and this again must arise from their consciousness of its imperfections. We are told that an igno- rance of the Natural History of Diseases is the most fruitful source of false views both in pathology and practice; and that in the knowledge of the natural course and issue of diseases much less progress has been made, than in their morbid anat- omy. One reason for this is that diseases are largely inter- fered with and modified by art; and another, that they seem to be thus modified to a still greater degree. The author aims also to convince the public generally, who are even more prejudiced than the profession, that Nature has a conservative power; and to set just bounds to their appreciation of the powers of the medical art. For this ignorance of the public reacts injuriously upon the profession, interfering with their judgment, modifying their treatment, and often forcing them to make use of active measures, which might better have been left alone. This ignorance, too, engenders a lack of confi- dence in mild though judicious practitioners, and leads the public to employ heroic dosers, to trust in the idle promises of charlatans, and to run after the professors of Mesmerism, Spiritualism, and other useless delusions. Dr. Forbes is de- sirous that the reader should start with the understanding, 15* 174 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, that the great object of his work is to establish the fact, that Nature possesses vastly greater powers than Art in curing diseases. Though it is not meant that the matter in question should be prejudged unfairly, it is also necessary that the reader should be aware, that the derogation of Art is the particular result of the second part of this volume. It is not perhaps surprising that the public, after witnessing the severity of acute disease gradually give way to convales- cence, contemporaneously with the employment of palpable and violent remedial measures, should fall into the error, still so common among the faculty, of mistaking sequences for con- sequences, nor even that, in lingering chronic maladies, they should laud an art which could so long hold its ground against so obstinate an affection. Even when the disease proves fatal, it is not doubted that life has been prolonged and suffering mitigated by the same measures. Or if they lose confidence, it is not in the powers of the medical art, but in the knowledge of its professor; it is not that the means failed, but that the doctor lacked ability to apply those means aright. Since, as we confidently believe, no body of men possess more justly the public esteem, as conscientious, honorable, and laboring members of the community, than the regular physicians, so it is rarely, except from the lowest and most degraded classes of society, that we hear improper motives imputed to them. It is from such only that we expect that unworthy argument, which we have seen applied by the poor to our great charitable hospitals, and which is as old as the time of Pliny: iDiscunt periculis nostris et per experimenta mortes agunt. If we are not surprised, all things considered, that extreme ignorance of the comparative powers of Nature and Art in curing disease should prevail among the public at large, how shall we explain its existence to such an extent among the faculty? A true estimate of the powers of Nature is inter- fered with through the officiousness of Art. Were diseases left to themselves, the subject would not be too complex for elucidation by any observer with good common sense. The finding a proper field for such observation is by no means so easy as it might at first appear. In no form of medical practice are the agencies termed Regiminal altogether absent. 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 175 These are comparatively unimportant disturbing causes. But nine tenths of all diseases are subjected to active treatment, which must at once vitiate the result. The difficulties in the way of the young practitioner in obtaining an accurate knowl- edge of the power of Art in curing disease are somewhat dif- ferent in kind, but vastly greater in degree. The grand fun- damental obstacle arises from the ignorance of the natural history of diseases, and this is fostered by there being no distinct chair for instruction in this subject in medical schools, and no open field for it in hospitals and dispensaries. The practitioners own conscientious scruples against leaving any cases to the unassisted care of Nature, from the fear, magni- fied by his previous teaching, that he might be injuring his patients, the non-perception of the utility of the knowledge to be so acquired, and the dread of being exposed to the charge of malpractice, all operate against his chances of ac- quiring such knowledge. Since the great increase of char- itable medical institutions, it is not easy to meet with cases, even among the poorest classes, entirely left to Nature. We must also take into consideration the inability of practitioners, from prejudices of education, to see the results of the sponta- neous operations of Nature, in such cases as they treat them- selves. It is a very common error of theirs to attribute solely to drugs results which really flow from other concomitant influences, as rest, diet, air, season, faith in the medical ad- viser, or change of scene. The great variations in common sporadic diseases, or in prevalent epidemics, at different periods of the year, or in different years, is another source of error so commonly disregarded, that we are apt to sneer at such treat- ment of diseases in former times as the influences of those periods may have rendered the most judicious. Idiosyncrasy, or the modifying influence of individual constitution or tem- perament, gives other grounds of doubt. Again, since medi- cine is not an exact science, but all conclusions respecting it must be reached through the balance of probability, the at- tainment of truth is here met by the same difficulty as in all the other non-demonstrable branches of knowledge. What wonder, then, that the comparative powers of Nature and Art should be undecided, when the respective influence of either 176 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, is so difficult to appreciate? Dr. Forbes has placed them in a clearer light by the following happy comparisons However favorably we may look on remedies, and although we may admit their validity in many cases, they can at most be regarded, in relation to the case of most diseases, only as the voice, hand, whip, or spur of the rider are to the progression and course of the horse: they may stimulate or excite the natural faculties to do the work which they themselves have no power to do; they may possibly, also, regu- late or direct the course of action of the natural faculties (as the rider guides his horse) so as to force them to a speedier or even to a different issue; but the essential agency in both cases is exclusively in the indi- vidual organism, not in the extraneous spur, the muscles of the horse in the one, the vis medicatrix in the other It must he obvious, therefore, that to overlook this inherent curative power, in any attempt to estimate the value of Art in curing diseases, would be to overlook, to say the least of it, a most important agent As a rower in a boat on a river, who, in estimating the cause of progress between its banks, should make no allowance for the motive force of the current, but attribute the whole of his advance to his own exertions at the oar. pp. 35 37. A most important element in the natural history of disease is the exact proportional mortality of diseases generally, when left to their natural course. This is the sole kind of knowl- edge which could enable the physician to speak with certainty as to the power of the medical art to cure diseases that would otherwise prove fatal, or the amount of this power if it exists. The author believes that this knowledge will finally be accu- mulated and tabulated on a grand scale, as the tendencies of the medical art shall indicate, and its necessities require. Dr. Laycock, in the British and Foreign Medical Review, judiciously suggests that such a natural history would require a system of observation, and a system of classificatioii; the first based on physiology, the second on structure rather than on function. Chapters III., IV., and V. treat respectively of Diseases; their Causes and Nature; and their Course and Progress. Of the contents of the third chapter we shall say no more, than that it defines Health and Disease; describes the aggregation of certain bundles of phenomena, or symptoms, into distinct 1 1859.] NATURE A~ ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 177 diseases, of which the divisions and the nosologies are necessa- rily somewhat arbitrary; distinguishes, as distinctly as can be reasonably done, the differences between structural and func- tional diseases, and refers to the old lines, often overstepped on either side, of acute and chronic maladies. The author makes the important remark, that the latter have no distinct course, inception, continuance, and end, and that they are very difficult of classification. We may find in the fourth chapter, on the Causes, Mode of Production, and Nature of Diseases, much worthy of con- templation. Disease is a variation from health; its theatre of action, the human frame. It is not probable that the ordinary exposures, changes, and varieties of any form of social life can be at all times consistent with perfect, unbroken health. They who ascribe to certain fabulous and primitive states of existence the attribute of eternal youth and freedom from sickness, are led away by a too discursive imagination. For even if we cultivate the physical at the expense of the mental faculties, and are successful in avoiding the bruising teeth of care and want, we are none the less exposed to miasmata and contagion, and we are assured that it is appointed to all men once to die. The most expert physician succumbs at last to one of the very diseases he has been investigating; and, con- fident to cure, Laennec and Corvisart fell victims to those affections of the chest which they had peculiarly illustrated by their discoveries. Heal thyself is, and will always remain, a truthful satire on human knowledge. In a machine so marvellously complex as the living animal body, consisting of such an infinity of parts of extreme delicacy, all more or less depending on one another, and performing such a multitude of operations of the most elaborate and refined nature, it would seem but reasonable to expect that it should sbmetimes vary from its normal or perfect state, through some alteration in its material structure or some deviation from the regularity or harmony of its course; and this expectation must be greatly strengthened, when it is further considered that all this machinery, composed of the frailest and least durable materials, is self-created, self-sustained, self-acting, every instant vary- ing and changing in the intimate composition of its parts, and, above all, constantly dependent on conditions and influences external and 178 NATURE AND ART IN TIlE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, entirely foreign to itself, and which are in themselves perpetually vary- ing. The marvel indeed is, and truly it is one of the greatest of marvels, that, under such circumstances, a state of harmonious or perfect action (in other words, a state of health) should not be rather the exception than the rule. Forbes, pp. 66, 67. Diseases may be congenital, hereditary, the result of a naturally feeble constitution, or, as in the vast majority of instances, produced by external causes. These causes may be simple and single; more frequently they are numerous and combined. Among the most evident are those inducing con- stitutional feebleness, as insufficient nourishment and exercise, impure air, and want of sleep ; atmospheric influences, as cold, heat, and moisture; errors of diet; mental causes of every variety ; mechanical and chemical agencies; poisons, whether mineral, as that of lead, animal, as that of a dissect- ing wound, vegetable, as miasmata, producing very various affections, or morbid, so called, as that of small-pox or scar- latina; also the poisons of animal secretions, as hydrophobia, and ova, producing parasitic diseases; what are called func- tional variations, as over-action; and finally, traumatic lesions. The precise manner in which these causes operate to produce particular diseases is in a few cases known; in a larger pro- portion, partially known; in the majority, unknown. A most important distinction is now to be made. We must try to shake off certain old but false ideas of disease, which have long rested like an incubus on the theory-ridden shoulders of the medical world. Few articles in the physicians creed have given rise to so many blunders in treatment, as that which supposes diseases to be something distinct from ourselves and the processes of our lives ; which assigns to them a separate existence, and regards them as real, extrai~eous entities, to be attacked, con- quered, and expelled. Dr. Forbes can best explain his own views What we term causes of diseases are not real or efficient causes, or indeed, properly speaking, causes at all; they merely constitute, as it were, the occasions, on the existence or presence of which, or, so to speak, on the prcimpting of which, the natural or vital functions of the living body set about forming the diseases themselves, and do form 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN TILE CURE OF DISEASE. 179 them. In this point of view, then, it is obvious that what we term diseases are not things different from, and extraneous to, the living body, but rather particular conditions of this; new phases, as it were, of its vital manifestations. They are essentially vital, that is, pro- cesses of a living organism, whether they come under the head of dy- namic or functional, or of material or structural conditions, or states. All morbid action is but a modification or perversion of some natural or normal action or function; and all the physical results con- stituting morbid structural alterations are mere perversions or modifi- cations of natural or normal textures, or, at most, analogous textures fabricated from the same materials by like processes Neither is disease, as others believe, a distinct imperium in imperio, indepen- dent of; and setting at defiance, the legitimate laws of the organism in which it is developed, and acting in accordance with laws of its own. It is rather, if we may carry on this analogy, like a constitutional Opposition in a free government, organized in accordance with the existing laws, and still submitting reluctantly, it may be to their sway Attention to this fact is the more important, because it constitutes one of the strongest ~z priori grounds for admitting the reasonableness and probability of the natural cure of diseases, hereafter to be shown as a matter of fact. If Nature, without any extraneous aid, either dynamical or material, can build up diseases, there would seem no substantial reason why she should not be equally able to effect their removal. PP 75 78. These opinions are well illustrated by examples derived from all the larger classes of diseases. Nervous affections are but variations in the natural actions of t1~e affected organs; the redness, pain, heat, and swelling of inflammation are only an exaltation of the normal processes of circulation and nervous influence; the phenomena of fever are mere modifications of the regular vital actions, though the cause of these modifica- tions may be a poison from without; hemorrhages and drop- sies consist simply in a perversion of the common functions of secretion, excretion, and absorption; morbid deposits and extraneous growths are varieties of healthy, or examples of perverted nutrition; and so with the rest. Having shown disease in its nature to be only a changed mode of vital action, Dr. Forbes next undertakes to demon- strate, in Chapter V., on the Course or Progress of Diseases, that it has a natural rise, increase, intermittence, climax, de 180 NATURE AND ART IN TEE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, dine, and limit. Having been already told, that, Although thus neither individual entities superadded to the body, nor yet perfectly novel and original conditions of the structures or functions of the body, but merely alterations, modifications, or perversions of the conditions existing in the state of health, diseases may and do have special laws of their own, governing the manifestations of their general phenomena and course, we are now the better prepared to admit, not only that the ele- ments of disease must necessarily participate in the same natu- ral variations as the processes of health, but that every disease has a course or progress peculiar to itself. This course may commence mildly or violently, may increase slowly or with rapidity, but in either case reaches a certain acme, and then either extinguishes life or declines. While we may allow, then, that accidental complications, or the interference of Art, may often interrupt and even change its natural course, it would seem probable from theory, and is proved by experience, that many diseases are essentially self-limited. This is the great truth which Dr. Bigelow first unfolded to the profession twenty-four years ago. By a self-limited disease, I would be understood to express one which receives limits from its own nature, and not from foreign influ- ences; one which, after it has obtained foothold in the system, cannot, in the present state of our knowledge, be eradicated or abridged by Art, but to which there is due a certain succession of processes, to be completed in a certain time; which time and processes may vary with the constitution and condition of the patient, and may tend to death, or to recovery, but are not known to be shortened or greatly changed by medical treatment. Nature in Disease, p. 4. Such terms as a settled disease, and the run of a dis- ease, imply the existence of a belief in this theory among the public. We are told by the same authority, that, although it is difficult to select a perfectly satisfactory or convincing example of a self-limited disease from among the graver morbid affections, on account of the universal employment of remedies, yet we can find abundant instances among the milder maladies, as the vaccine disease, or the chicken- pox. It is not easy to say why one disease has necessary limits, while another is without them. Sometimes the law 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 181 of the disease may be traced to the nature of the exciting cause. Thus the morbid poison of measles or of small-pox produces a self-limited disease, while that of syphilis does not. Simple, paroxysmal, and metastatic diseases represent three classes which are self-limited; and of these, hooping-cough, epilepsy, and acute rheumatism are respectively typical in- stances. In investigating this subject, we may reasonably suspect those diseases to be self-limited, from which those who make use of no treatment, and those who submit to empirical or nugatory modes of medication, equally recover; those for which the most opposite modes of treatment are recommended; and those of which enlightened physicians themselves die. Besides erysipelas and most of the eruptive and continued fevers, many other diseases are now regarded as self-limited which were not included in that class when Dr. Bigelows es- say was written. We think that this matter is placed in a still more simple and clear light in the Expositions of Rational Medicine, by the same author. Medical assumption may well feel humbled by the most insignifi- cant diseases of the human body. Take, for example, a common fu- runculus or boil. No physician can, by any internal treatment, produce it where it does not exist. No physician can, by any science, explain it, and say why it came on one limb and not upon another. No physi- cian can, by any art, cure it after it has arrived at a certain height. No physician can, by any art, delay or retain it after it has passed the climax assigned to it by nature. And what is true in regard to a boil is equally true of common pneumonia, of typhoid fever, of acute rheu- matism, of cholera, and many other diseases. There follows the sad corollary, that certain diseases, of which the number is not very great, are curable by medicinal means; that certain others, more numerous, are curable by regiminal means; that another class of diseases are self-limited; and, finally, that a large class are incurable. In an introduc- tory lecture before the medical class of .1852, on The Treat- ment of Disease, the author just quoted, in view of these facts, says, that if he were asked what makes a great physi- cian, he would answer, lie is a treat physician who, above other men, understands diagnosis. In the same vein, the venerated Dr. Elisha Bartlett, in his Philosophy of Medi- VOL. LxxxIx.No 184. 16 182 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, cine, says: Diagnosis will be in advance of therapeutics; and this for two reasons. In the first place, the elements of the former are fewer, and less complex in their relationships, than those of the latter; and in the second place, diagnosis is an essential prerequisite of therapeutics. To return to the main subject. After tracing the natnre of diseases, and proving them to be a part of the common actions of the human system, demonstrating that they have a reg- ular course or progress, and are, many of them, self-limited, the next great step is to look at their natural terminations, and to show that they sometimes end in health, and are not all essentially destructive. This brings us to Chapter VI. of Dr. Forbess work. When we look at the great scheme of Providence for peo- pling the world with living beings, it is obvious that some means must be adopted to remove the surplus population, and that in all finite existence there must be deaths as well as births. How often death succeeds disease, we are all but too well aware. Old age, accident, and disease are the three fatal means employed by Nature to terminate human life. Fewer deaths occur in age from natural decay than from formal disease; the fatal accidents which happen to mankind are not very numerous in the aggregate; and we therefore have a large balance of mortality to be settled by disease. We should naturally expect, therefore, that in a great propor- tion of cases sickness would terminate in death. And yet we have, in partial opposition to this assumption, the fact of the essential conservatism of organic existence throughout nature, as shown in the many ills which, though threatening, are event- ually recovered from. It is much easier to prove that Nature causes death, than that she also causes health to ensue as a normal and not infrequent consequence of disease. Still no one will doubt the curative tendencies and powers of Nature in certain organic and structural diseases; as in absorbing dropsical effusions, removing the extravasated prod- ucts of inflammation, or plugging a bleeding vessel. Yet, on the other hand, it is certainly no less apparent, that, in other cases, the ultimate result is the very reverse of curative. Thus, the morbific influence of acute rheumatism may stiffen, 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 183 with bead-like excrescences, the pliable valves of the heart, the very gates of life. Nature endeavors to compensate for the increasing difficulty of driving the blood through the nar- rowed orifices, by adding to the muscular power of the propel- ling organ. But the result is hypertrophy of the heart, with all its attendant evils. Although, therefore, all must admit that many sicknesses end in recovery, compared with the smaller number that terminate in death, yet Nature is not always kind. This is well expressed by a correspondent of Dr. Forbes, in the British and Foreign Medical Review. The existence of such forces in nature as a vis vitiatrix and vis necatrix, as well as a vis medicatrix, is apt to be forgotten by physi- cians, who, from the influence of the old Hippocratic doctrines, got into the habit of representing Nature as all beneficent, as if she had no poisons, generated no diseases, and allowed nobody to die if she could help it. Much of the practice in the ordinary system of medicine is a strict imitation of salutary processes in nature, and its object is to make such processes supersede the baneful practice of Nature, who, though she knits up wounds with her adhesive inflammation, by the very same method glues the intestines into fatal entanglements, shackles the heart, and chokes up the windpipe. Vol. XXII. pp. 538, 539. Enough evidence can be easily adduced, however, to show the power of Nature to remove the causes of disease, and even the exact manner in which she proceeds to effect her object. Of this, the expulsion of noxious solids or fluids by vomiting or purging, the resistance to the entrance of poisonous gases into the lungs by coughing, and the washing away of foreign bodies from the eyes or nostrils by increased secretion, are familiar instances. We only wish to consider fairly both sides of the question, and to show that the natural efforts sometimes fail, or are misdirected. No one doubts that the febrile move- ment of scarlet-fever is the rebellion of Nature against the deadly influence of the poison of that disease. Yet, though often sanative, and even curative, this reaction may be so ex- cessive as to lead to death, per se. Vomiting a poison may be requisite to continued life, but may end in the rupture of a vessel in the brain, or in fatal intestinal hernia. If we have often recognized and admired the curative influence of Nature in mild diseases, we have also often seen the beneficial aid of 184 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, very simple measures in other cases. It more than once hap- pened to us, while attached to a large charity hospital, to witness the marvellous change produced in some squalid, chilled, and delirious wretch, taken from the lowest depths of poverty and vice, by a warm bath, a quiet bed, rest, and soothing though nutritious food. If, by this slight sketch of both sides of the question, we have now reached a sufficiently impartial position for deciding as to the natural termination of diseases in health or in death, we shall be prepared to form a just appreciation of the general evidence in favor of the curability of diseases by Nature, which Dr. Forbes adduces and displays at length in his seventh chapter. He endeavors to derive his evidence from the purest sources; that is to say, from those cases least interfered with by art. He speaks first of the great field presented by the pathology of the inferior animals. Wounds of the most desperate character heal in wild beasts; murrains and other epidemics spare many of those attacked among the domestic animals. Though. the analogy is strong between both the health and the sickness of the inferior animals and man, the author admits that it would not be strictly logical to infer that the autocratic power of healing belong to both in an equal degree. Animals are free from the psychical element, which has so important an in- fluence in modifying human disease. We may safely infer that there is a similar curative power existing in both, but no more. The second proof is deduced from the medical history of savage and uncivilized nations. It is very true that they often recover from disease; and also that, although instinct may lead them to seek relief in such rude medical art as they can in- vent, this is rarely of a very perturbative nature, and could not much influence the general result. Their medical resources are either charms, spells, and talismans, or indigenous herbs. Most of the latter must be inert; for if we admitted the cura- tive powers of the plants culled and vaunted by every people, we must include in the pharmacopoeia nearly all the vegetable productions of the globe. We object only, that the normal life led by savages renders them less liable to the severer dis- eases. Among the imperfectly civilized nations of antiquity, 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN TIlE CURE OF DISEASE. 185 and even among the Greeks and Romans, the treatment of dis- eases was left mainly to the priests, and the order of physicians has left no traces of its existence in a considerable portion of ancient history. Yet we do not learn that the mortality was very great. Many, no doubt, died; but many also recov- ered; just as we witness in modern times. Sailors in vessels too small to carry surgeons, and isolated bodies of men, ship- wrecked, or otherwise cut off from medical aid, have been known to survive very severe fevers, under the most unprom- ising circumstances. Cases treated in every community by the expectant method, afford another proof of the extent of Natures power to cure disease. Under this head we may class potions and ptisans; vegetable alteratives, as sarsaparilla, recently proved by experiment to be wholly inert; the grape- cure, the milk-cure, vegetable diet, and sea-voyages. The numerous recoveries under the use of nostrums of the most violent kind, prove the power of Nature, which can overcome the baneful effects both of the disease and of the remedy. The amount of patent medicines swallowed is almost in- credible, and can be estimated only by the extent and conse- quent cost of their advertisements. The two potent drugs, aloes and opium, are the basis of most quack medicines; the former in pills of every name, the latter in the various pul- monic sirups. Yet people consume these in incredible quan- tities, and survive. Medical literature, ancient and modern, as well as the unwritten testimony of medical men, unwitting- ly furnishes us with much proof of the autocracy of Nature in curing disease. These records and this experience de- monstrate, to any one sufficiently above prejudice to judge them fairly, that many cures, under the most opposite modes of treatment, can be ascribed only to the power of Nature. Still stronger evidence of the same kind is furnished by the different epidemics which, at various times, have scourged the human race. The results, on a large scale, whether in typhus, scarlatina, or cholera, appear unaltered in any appreciable degree by the very various interferences of med- ical art. Dr. West, a recent and careful observer, says In spite of the increase of medical knowledge during the past fifty years, the proportion of small-pox cases that termi- 16* 186 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, nate fatally has been estimated by the best authority to be as great now as it was half a century ago. The histories of all pestilences and plagues, from the simple narrative of Thucydi- des, and Boccacios mortifera pestilenzct, to De Foes graphic tale of the Plague in London, and Sues dramatic episode of the reign of the cholera king at Paris, agree, not only in the main features of their hideous descriptions, but in the sad results of their wide mortality. The Norfolk epidemic spared only a portion of the noble souls who went from the medical ranks, in the hope of carrying efficient aid to the sufferers; and the statistics of the yellow-fever at New Orleans, the past summer, are as startling as in any previous year. If, there- fore, we accuse Nature of causing many deaths, we must also give her the credit of those recoveries where medical art has shown itself of no avail. Another argument for the autocracy of Nature is based on the records of llomoeopathy, considered as a system of pure expectancy; but we reserve this for future discussion. Finally, this historical evidence acquires great additional force and vivacity, if sustained by the personal testimony of living physicians. Such testimony we have already shown, by quotations, to lie ready at hand in the experience of every old practitioner. Though the prejudices of education, the force of conservative halAts, and prudential motives may keep much of it concealed, enough has been elicited from the several works we have cited, and in the various correspondence they have aroused, to prove the curability of many diseases by Nature alone. The one great result obtained from the study of these various authori- ties is this, that the power of Nature to cure diseases is infinitely greater than is generally believed by the great body of medical practitioners, and by the public generally. So great, indeed, is this power, and so universally operative, that it is a simple statement of the facts to say, that of all diseases that are curable and cured, the vnst majority are cured by Nature independently of Art; and of the number of diseases that, according to our present mode of viewing things, may be fairly said to be curable by Art, the far larger proportion may be justly set down as cured by Nature and Art conjointly. The number of diseases cured entirely by Art (of course I omit in all these statements surgical 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 18~ art) and in spite of Nature, in other words, the number of eases that recover, and would have died, had Art not interfered, is extremely small. We shall see, in the remaining chapters of this work, which treat of the Medical Art, that the statement just made is far from being tantamount to saying that this art is powerless and useless. It will be there shown that the Medical Art has a noble and most beneficial part to play, in its true character of a handmaid and helper of Nature; al- though it may seem shorn of some of the heroic attributes with which ionorance and early superstition may have falsely decked it. Forbes, pp. 170, 171. We come now to the second portion of our subject, and the concluding half of Dr. Forbess volume, which treats of the Nature and Powers of the Medical Art. The five remaining chapters discuss the Existence and Nature, the Instruments, the Mode of Action, Specific and Vicarious, and the Real and True Powers of Medical Art. The existence of a medical art, even among the rudest na- tions, is a matter of history. From its foundation in the wants and sufferings of mankind, it was not likely to be neglected. Though we have made infinite progress in new views and rem- edies, yet the results of our practice, placed side by side with those of Hippocrates, are not so very flattering. And yet the medical art has much to boast of. It is second in importance only to those arts which minister directly to the support and maintenance of human life. All its objects may be classed under two heads: the Prevention of Diseases, and the Mitiga- tion or Cure of Diseases. Although the first, the preventive branch, is infinitely the superior, it has hitherto always hap- pened that the second, the Cure of Disease, has received the most attention, because man is always less solicitous about prospective evils, than about those actually present. If more extended observation shall only lessen the faith in therapeutics, it cannot be doubted that hygiene will be proportionately devel- oped and valued. The advancement of the preventive part of medicine has been one of the objects of our author in Writing this volume. Though but little has been done in hygiene, that little has already been productive of immense results. Mr. Buckle asserts that, owing to the increased facilities of inter- communication and transportation, a famine is now next to 188 NATURE AND ART IN TIlE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, impossible in Europe, and that, if hygiene continues to advance, pestilence will soon become impossible also. It is certain, at least, that not only have the severity and extent of epidemics, such as cholera, been checked by public hygienic measures, but also, that, in the localities most advanced in hygiene, the rate of annual mortality has steadily decreased. The author of SelfLimited Diseases and Rational Medicine ~ also, in various parts of his writings, declares prevention and pallia! tion to be the two most important branches of medicine, palliation, as well as prevention ; since in all diseases it is necessary and useful, and in many is the only resource. Preventive medicine is either public, when it assumes the management of the life of the community; domestic, when it directs the sanitary department of the household; or personal, when it regulates the habits of the individual. If the atten- tion of society were once given to these points, says Dr. Forbes, the saving of life would be such as would not only modify our tables of mortality, but affect the fortunes of na- tions. Curative medicine, on the other hand, has been over- cultivated and over-esteemed. Our author does not deny that medicine can accomplish some cures. In the British and For- eign Medical Review, he says, in answer to attacks on his first article in that journal : It was never contended for by the author of the article, that the treatment of diseases should or could be exclusively left, in all cases, to a hygienic system of management; or that we were not possessed of many drugs of the noblest powers It would seem hardly less irrational for a physician of any experience to deny the efficacy of such general means as venesection, emetics, and purgatives, or the individual power of such drugs as opium, mercury, iodine, iron, & c., than for the soldier to denounce as useless the very weapons which had enabled him to vanquish. Vol. XXI. p. 504. On this point, Dr. Bigelow, in like manner, writes: Were there no other trophy for the medical profession to boast, it is sufficient to know, that the diseases of small-pox and syphilis alone would have entailed misery and extermination on a large portion of our species, had not medical science discovered the prevention of the one, and the successful management of the other. Of the latter disease, numerous cases are too fresh in 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 189 our memory, with their inevitable tendency downward, by regular and almost mathematical laws, and their return tO health under the use of what we may call specifics, to leave any doubt of the curative powers of Art. There is one department of medicine to which the weary practitioner always looks up, in his blind gropings after truth, with hope, confidence, and pride; we mean~ the noble art of surgery. Here we have something tangible and practical in its remedial results. To secure a bleeding vessel, replace a dislocated limb, adjust a fractured bone, or remove a mortify- ing extremity or a foreign growth, thereby restoring life, func- tion, and usefulness, is surely an act of which we should be proud. From the ruder apparatus of Hippocrates, and the time when Ambrose Par6 taught union by the first intention, to the ingenious mechanism of the artificial limb, and the im- proved conservative operations of to-day, surgery has constantly advanced. While an~sthesia has robbed it of half its terrors, science has shown it, by excisions and resections, how to save the otherwise crippled member. It is its boast to learn how to avoid mutilating operations, as it should be the glory of medicine to learn to dispense with drugs. The instruments of the medical art, though they may include almost everything on the globe, and though they have embraced many inert substances, may be conveniently divided into three classes, IRegiminal, Physical, and Phar- maceutical. The first is a very important we had almost said the most important division. Though often regarded as belonging rather to preventive medicine, we now know that it produces very powerful curative effects. Among re- giminal means are all mental sanative agencies of a sanative character no less than means chiefly external, such as air, temperature, moisture, climate, ventilation, diet, clothing, sleep, exercise, and occupation. The class of physical means is not large, but many of them are very potent. Such are venesection, leeching, and cupping; baths of vapor or water, hot and cold; inhalation of vapors; electricity, hydropathy, and kinesipathy. The pharmaceutical means comprehend all that enormous mass of substances termed drugs or medica- ments. They have usurped the place of almost all other 190 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, remedies in ordinary medical practice. Popular prejudices demand, and routine continues to administer them, far more than they are needed. Many of them are of very uncertain effect. Among the most positive, are evacuants, narcotics, tonics, stimulants, and ha~matics. The lists of astringents, alteratives, and refrigerants contain many valuable articles, though their mode of operation is more uncertain. At the head of this entire class we should place opium, without which Sydenham said he would not practise medicine, and which Oppolzer of Vienna values the highest in his list, at the pres- ent time. In proportion as medical knowledge has advanced, the belief in specific remedies has declined. Formerly, the name sufficed to indicate the remedy, and the application of the remedy was expected to be followed by the cure of the disease. Some specifics still remain; but their number is small. There are a few diseases directly curable, by the immediate contact of the remedy. Most of these are surgical. Among those that are medical are pdisons, curable by anti- dotes; local irritation, by refrigerants; constipation, by purga- tives; parasites, by anthelmintics. Certain, local affections can be reached by medicines which have a peculiar tendency to the organs affected. Such tendencies are shown for the kidneys by diuretics, for the heart by digitalis, and for the blood by iron. Certain diseases remain, which are generally considered curable by specifics, acting in some unknown manner. Yet in these the remedy is uncertain. Such are intermittent fever, curable by quinine and by arsenic; syphilis, by mer- cury ; scurvy, by lemon-juice ; periosteal swellings, by the iodide of potassium; hemicrania, by quinine ; and some others, which are quite doubtful. There is some reason to hope that the attention which pathologists are now devoting to the minute morbid anatomy of the fluids and tissues may result in the increase of specific remedies, though it must be confessed that chemistry and the microscope have not had any very marked practical effect as yet. Too many dis- eases are still treated empirically, that is, upon the basis of experience, though this basis is often very unstable. Pseudo- 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 191 spec ~tic is the proper term to be applied to this form of medi- cal practice. We come now to the other, and the almost universal method of treating disease, that by medicaments having an indirect or vicarious action. Though it cannot be called strictly curative, since the remedies produce the same results in the sick as they would in the healthy body, and can influ- ence diseases only by subserving the provisions inherent in the system for their natural decline, yet this mode of treat- ment is the main feature and characteristic distinction of the medical art. The indications followed in the indirect method may be classed under four heads, as follows: extinguishing treatment, active treatment, pure expectancy, rational expec- tancy. The author of Rational Medicine gives a very similar classification, namely, the artificial method, the expec- tant method, the homceopathic method, the exclusive method, the rational method. We shall consider them in the order first named. The indication governing the extinguishing or abortive treatment is to cut short or break up disease. If the views formerly expressed as to the nature and course of diseases be correct, it follows that this method must often fail, and entail needless suffering. Mild and ephemeral maladies do not require it; in severe and self-limited diseases, it will gen- erally be without avail. It is a practice but little followed at the present day. The really active or heroic treatment is also less followed than formerly, but has higher claims to consideration. Though we do not know that bleeding is curative in pneumonia, for instance, yet, judiciously practised in proper cases, it certainly relieves urgent dyspucca and pain. This method seeks to mod- ify or reduce morbid action, but not to cut short disease. If it does not do good, it does harm; and it is to be adopted by the follower of a rational expectancy only in a modified form. Pure expectancy, a negative or totally inert treatment, was so named by Stahl, in contradistinction to his own method of rational expectancy. It being known that most curable diseases are cured by Nature and time, it follows that the chief 192 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE 01 DISEASE. [July, scope and intention of the expectation physician is the gaining of time, and to elude the patient from time to time, until Nature hath conquered the disease. In all the times of physic it has been more or less adopted, though seldom met with now, except under other names. Its principles were seldom fully carried out in practice. The real wait and do nothing school nudct et otiosa ordinarily fell into the heresy of some one active remedy. The practice of homoeopathy is the most perfect, as well as the greatest, example of pure expectancy that ever existed in the medical world. For this reason, as well as on account of its present popularity in this country, it deserves a separate consideration. The distinguishing dogmas of this system, as propounded by its founder, were two in number: the asserted law of therapeutics, that medicines have a specific curative effect on those diseases whose symptoms they produce, when taken into the body in health ; the asserted discovery in pharmacy, that the medicinal power of drugs increases in proportion to the diminution of the quantity employed. The first is called, for brevity, like is cured by like, similia similibus curantur; the second, the doctrine of infinitesimal doses. To the second was added the corollary, that the effects of such doses continued to manifest themselves during periods varying from a few hours to several weeks after their administration, and therefore that medicines should be given singly, and at considerable intervals; to the first was appended the theory, that a large proportion of all diseases, and the majority of chronic diseases, had their origin and cause in psora, or itch. A final modification of the second, made by Hahnemann, was that medicines affected the system as power- fully by the nose, as in the stomach; when only smelt of, as when swallowed. We shall take the liberty of reversing the above order, and of examining first the doctrine of infinitesimal doses. Ordinary prescribers had always been in the habit of adminis- tering drugs in palpable amounts; and though the heroic tea- spoonful doses of calomel, said to have been once in use in the Mississippi Valley, had been long abandoned, and chemistry had furnished us with the active principles of many of the 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 193 coarser articles of the Materia Medica, so that a few grains represented the powers of an ounce, yet the doses of the most potent alkaloids rarely descended below the fifth to the twentieth of a grain, quantities minute to be sure, but still appreciable by the senses. The founder of the new system at once freed himself from these old trammels of conservatism; he reduced his doses successively from small to smaller, and thence to infinitesimal quantities, so minute as to defy the most delicate tests of the chemist and the most powerful lens of the microscope. We venture to believe that few persons have any just conception of the amazing littleness of the higher, or even moderate attenuations of the homocopath. Statements and comparisons of them are usually regarded as good-natured exaggerations, or wilful falsifications. We there- fore subjoin a few of the more striking computations from Dr. Simpsons work on Homo~opathy and its Tendencies, with the simple asseveration as to their truth, that they have been verified and vouched for by a high mathematical authority, and that we are not aware that they have been denied by the parties interested in the homocopathic theories. The suc- cessive reductions of the drug are called attenuations when conducted in the solid, dilutions when conducted in the fluid state. One grain of any medicine is mixed in a mortar with ninety-nine grains of sugar of milk, or other inert substance. Each grain of the compound, when well mixed, contains one hundredth of a grain of the drug. So far all is plain and reasonable; and this is the first attenuation. One grain of this is next mixed with ninety-nine grains of sugar of milk. Each grain of the resulting compound, well mixed, contains one hundredth of one hundredth of a grain, or one ten- thousandth of a grain of the original drug or medicine. This is the second attenuation. The third attenuation, similarly conducted, gives for each grain of the resulting compound one hundredth of one ten-thousandth, or one millionth of a grain of the original medicine. In the same way, each grain of the sixth attenuation contains one billionth of a grain of the original drug. All these are called the lower potencies or preparations. The middle potencies range from the sixth to the thirtieth attenuation; the higher, from the thirtieth VOL. Lxxxlx. NO. 184. iT 194 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, to the two-hundredth attenuation ; and the highest, indefi- nitely beyond. The thirtieth is as high as we shall care to go. Each grain of the thirtieth attenuation contains one decillionth of a grain of the medicine originally taken, a quantity expressed by a unit preceded by sixty ciphers, which, out of regard for the printer, we will omit. As Dr. Forbes well remarks The hundredth of a grain is intelligible enough; the ten-thousandth is comprehensible, but begins to waver; while the millionth part of a grain puts our powers of comprehension on the rack We fancy we grasp the reality, and then it instantly vanishes as a phan- tom, even beyond the sphere of imagination. Having got so far, the additional subdivisions scarcely add to our difficulties. The mind is occupied by a word more than a thing, and whether the word be a millionth, billionth, or decillionth, the power of comprehension remains the same. Such calculations can be best illustrated by comparisons. Were all the products of each preceding attenuation kept and reduced to the fifteenth potency, the quantity of sugar required for the reduction of a grain of any drug to this attenuation would be a mass sixty-one times the size of the earth. The proportion of any drug in the thirtieth dilution, or decillionth globules, is to the sugar contained in the glob- ules as one grain is to sixty-one quintillions of spheres of sugar, each of these spheres being of the dimensions of the earth. The dilutions are equally startling. The twelfth di- lution represents one grain dissolved in a quantity of fluid six times the size of the Mediterranean Sea. The thirtieth dilution consists of a minute globule of sugar, moistened by being simply dipped in a drop out of an ocean of fluid one hundred and forty billion times as large as our whole plan- etary system, which enormous ocean has been medicated by having dissolved in and mixed through it one single grain of the appropriate drug. Yet llahnemanii says that the best dose of all drugs, for chronic or acute diseases, is always the very smallest one in the high dynamization, or thirtieth di- lution. The homceopathic healing art develops the imma- terial (dynamic) virtues of medicinal substances by tritura- lion, or shaking, at each step of the process of attenuation. 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASEZ 195 In order to have a determinate rule for the moderate development of power of the fluid medicines, multiplied experience and observation have led me to retain two shakes for every vial, in preference to a greater number, which had previously been used, but which developed the energy in too great a degree. Hahnemanns Organon, p. 200. Dr. Forbes, in the British and Foreign Medical Review, calls attention to the circumstance, that each attenuation is effected by means of six triturations of six minutes each, and six scrapings of four minutes each, the whole period of preparation occupying exactly one hour. Let us recollect, also, that it is not only drugs usually esteemed potent, but such comparatively inert substances as charcoal and oyster- shell, that are rendered poWerfully medicinal by these pro- cesses. Such substances occupy a prominent place in the homoeopathic pharmacopoeia, and we are continually assured that their medicinal effects last from a week to fifty days before a repetition of the remedy is required. Another diffi- culty consists in the homocopathic theory, that the effect of their preparations is rendered nugatory by the presence of other drugs (meaning thereby many simple substances), while we are all conscious of introducing into our bodies by acci- dent or design, in food, drink, or air, many grains of even the lower attenuations of charcoal, or lime, during every day of our lives. Although the public is hardly competent to judge of the merits of medical theories without a special training, it is capable of understanding arithmetic; and many common minds will probably agree with a recent homocopathic axiom from Punch, that Infinitesimal quantities produce infini- tesimal effects. The result of the carrying out of these dilutions has been, that many homceopathic practitioners have openly renounced the doctrine of infinitesimal doses; while we have reason to think, from daily experience, that many more have secretly abandbned them in practice. By what- ever arguments his disciples may justify their deflection from one of the laws of Ijlahnemann, they still adhere to his other dogma, and maintain the truth of the Similia similibus cu- rantur, or Like cures like. This dictum then, as the basis of their therapeutics, next offers itself for our notice. We 196 TNATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, would merely remark in passing, that as soon as the infini- tesimal doses are given up, and a return is made to the old forms of medication, homocopathy passes at once out of the class of purely expectant methods of treatment, and enters the great body of the pseudo-specific, or empirical schools. We pass now to the consideration of that theory of homoc- opathy, whence it derived its name, that drugs will cure those maladies whose s~~mptoms they cause in the healthy system. In the first place, we deny that many medicines, said to be ca- pable of exciting artificial diseases in the healthy body, possess that power. We may instance the very medicine with which Hahnemann first experimented. Knowing cinchona to be a specific for fever and ague, he took some while in health, to learn how it acted. He thought it produced symptoms of this disease; but others have failed to observe any such ef- fects. On the other hand, some medicines are capable of curing morbid conditions, which are incapable of exciting any such condition in the healthy body. We need only mention iron, which was never known to cause an~mia, though it cer- tainly cures it. Very different results have been obtained recently by Doctors Ricker and Lehmann, in Germany, who, experimenting on the more correct physiological law, that drugs produce the same effects in the healthy as in the dis- eased body, instead of curing in the diseased the effects which they produce in the healthy body, have proved that water and mercury hasten, and alcohol, coffee, and tea retard, the metamorphosis of tissue. Secondly, we believe that a large proportion of the experi- ments perfomed by Hahnemann and his disciples are alto- gether fallacious; that the symptoms produced by certain drugs were sequences only, and not consequences; that these symptoms were the effect of an expectant imagination; and that, as many of.the later experiments were conducted with infinitesimal doses of the drugs experimented on, we may conclude, from the apostasy of their own followers, and from every law of reason, that in these cases the medicines pro- duced no effects at all. Before we can NB called on to admit the recorded phenomena as consequences of the medicines, we have a right to call for a parallel series of healthy persons, 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 197 set down to record all their sensations for days, after taking no medicines. In these experiments it seems to be assumed that every sensation, every action, which occurred subsequently to the medicines being taken, was caused by the medicine. The very number of the symptoms said to be produced suf- fices to show the absurdity of the conclusions drawn. Thus 1090 symptoms are recorded as the effects of oyster-shells, and 590 as produced by plumbago. The constant overstepping of the limits of one anothers lines of symptoms by the several remedies, is sufficiently shown in such works as Jahrs Man- ual. We can hardly conclude, consistently with our conscious- ness of periods of happiness and peace of mind, that certain substances, which daily enter and abide in our bodies in minute quantities, can have those peculiar psychical effects which are ascribed to them by the homceopathist. Finally, even if we admitted the above-cited assertions as to the effect of infini- tesimal doses, it is obvious that it would be impossible for any one man, even in a long life, to have gone through enough provings to settle absolutely which particular attenuation was most potent in each disease. Thirdly, even where positive effects are produced on the healthy body by medicines in sensible doses, these effects bear a very imperfect resemblance to any one natural malady, or even to the aggregated symptoms of any malady. Many dis- eases also are acknowledged to be latent, and the fitting remedy could not be selected for such cases on the principle of Sirnilia similibus curantur. We are led, by the course of these remarks, to speak of two other objections to homoeopathy. One is, that it deals too exclusively in symptoms; the other, that it relies on the very unstable basis of specifics. It attaches too much importance to secondary phenomena as indicative of treatment, and views each symptom separately, or singly, as something to be met by a specific. The rational understanding and treatment of dis- ease can be advanced only by aggregating symptoms into groups and classes, on the one hand, and by searching into the intimate nature and causes of such groups, on the other. Since homocopathy gives remedies, singly and at intervals, to obviate each symptom as it arises, it is clearly open to the VI * 198 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, danger of treating very opposite morbid conditions by the same drug, and often improperly. This is the mistake of the rudest empiricism of the earliest ages of physic. A cer- tain attenuation of a certain drug, when swallowed by a person in health, produces headache, or abdominal pain; it is there- fore selected as the remedy for those symptoms. Yet headache may be symptomatic of an overloaded stomach, a nervous affection, encephalic inflammation, or simple mental exhaus- tion. Abdominal pain may indicate flatulence, colic, hernia, or peritonitis. We do not ascribe to the practitioners of this school the fault of any grosser mistakes than may be and have been committed by other physicians. We wish simply to in- dicate the tendency of such a theory to weaken diagnosis, degrade science, and jeopard the well-being of the patient. Since it has been shown in the history of medicine for two thousand years, that mankind has been constantly searching for specifics with very little success, we have no reason to suppose that homecopathy, proceeding on a false law of ther- apeutics, has been any more successful. We have yet to learn that its disciples have firwly established by experience any specific, based on a reasonable theory, like that of fresh vegetable food and organic acids for scurvy, or iron for the impoverished blood of chlorosis. We think it can be fairly deduced from the preceding pages, that the efficacy of infinitesimal doses is unproved and con- trary to reason, as well as often abandoned by the homceopa- thists themselves; and that tIle law of Like cures like is also entirely baseless and a figment of the imagination. The asserted facts of the long-continued action of a minute quan- tity of any drug, and of its equal power when smelled of as when swallowed, fall with the doctrine of infinitesimal doses. The theory that many diseases are caused by itch hardly needs refutation, since the cause of that disease has been traced to a microscopic insect in the skin, and the cure of it has been also discovered in such unctuous substances as will clog up the creatures trachea and stop its breath. All this refutation of the theories of homocopathy is of very little account, however, if facts can be brought to sustain them. The advocates of homocopathy, while admitting the 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 199 novelty and seeming improbability of their theories, profess to repose their confidence and belief only on real experience ~nd practical results. It is like the rallying-cry of the Spirit- nalists, We know what we do see; come and see for your- selves! We must next answer, then, these two inquiries: Has homocopathy absolute power to cure diseases? How great is that power relatively to that of allopathy, a name which has been improperly applied to the old school of medicine, and is not recognized by regular physicians? No evidence exists as to the absolute power of homecopathy to cure diseases. The only way to prove the existence of such a power would be by an experiment on a grand scale, of two sets of parallel cases of disease, the one treated homocopathically, the other treated apparently in the same manner, but with fictitious globules in lieu of the real globules of homecopathy, thus placing the patients under the same influences of regimen and faith. Such partial experiments as have been made, in hospi- tals and private practice, as far as they went, were unfavorable to homocopathy. The most extensive experiment was one instituted among a large number of children by the Prussian government, to determine the powers of belladonna as a pro- phylactic from scarlet-fever. This power had been much insisted on by homceopathists; but the result showed it to be of no avail. With regard to the second question, the argument of the homeopathist has been based on the results of their mode of treatment in the Hospital of the Sisters of Charity in Vienna, opened in 1832, and given to the professional charge of Dr. Fleischmanii, a bomecopathic physician, in 1835. We have before us the reports of that institution, giving a tabular view of the cases treated during eight years, in all, 6,551 pa- tients; and also a statement by a regular physician, Dr. Balfour, who visited its wards daily for near five months, and who assures us that he has tried to preserve a conscientious impartiality. The latter gentlemen says, that the situation, arrangement, and ventilation of the hospital, the freedom from the frequent visits of medical classes, the religious sympathy with the sick, the nurses being spiritual comfort- 200 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, ers and the patients Roman Catholics, as well as the youth of $he latter, one half being under twenty-five years of age, were all conducive to their recovery; while the fact of the admission and discharge, the diagnosis and report on all cases, being under the absolute control of one man, gave opportu- nity for the influence of such unconscious partiality as a specialist would be liable to feel in establishing the results of his theory. Cold water externally, and clysters, were used; the diagnosis was rarely written on the card at the head of the bed, unless in marked cases, and the previous history of the patients it was difficult to obtain. The other hospitals of the city report having received from this several unrelieved cases of effusion in the pleural cavity, which recov- ered under the use of purgatives and other active means. We regret being unable, from want of space, to go into an examination of these tables at length. We must avail our- selves of a brief resum6 of their results. We find, first of all, that the mortality of severe, incurable diseases was unchanged; we mean of such cases as are usually called hopeless. All the cases of abscess of the brain, all the cases of cancer, and all of phthisis, are registered died, or dismissed uncured; and of 819 cases of typhus, there are 140 deaths. The num- ber of cures is set down at 5,980, and the mortality at 6.4 per cent. This is claimed as a triumph over the old method. The average mortality of the largest London hospitals is 8.4 per cent.; but of thirty provincial hospitals, 4.4 per cent.; and of military hospitals, 2 per cent. But we must compare the char- acter of the diseases treated in each. It has been found, by wide statistics, that the percentage of hospital mortality de- pends upon the number of cases with the following diseases: pulmonary consumption, organic disease of the heart, kidneys, or stomach, and aneurisms of the gieat vessels. Comparing Fleischmanns 6,000 cases with 6,000 in the Edinburgh hospi- tal, we find, of these five diseases, 120 cases in the former, against 548 in the latter; and of mild diseases, at Vienna, 301 cases of sore throat, at Edinburgh, 34; 110 cases of chicken-pox at the one, 2 at the other; 61 cases of headache at the former, against 3T at the latter; 52 cases of influenza at Vienna, and none at Edinburgh; at the former, 52 cases 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 201 of injuries, at the latter, 641 cases, of which 150 were capi- tal operations. Cases admitted moribund were registered at Edinburgh, but not counted at Vienna. It hardly need be computed what the difference would be between a regular and a homceopathic hospital, with exactly the same diseases in their wards, when the mortality varies so little from the average of the former under circumstances so very favorable to the latter. Still the fact remains, that many mild, and some severe dis- eases, recovered perfectly, though not so quickly, under ho- mceopathic treatment. As we have found the infinitesimal system of medication nugatory, and as it was adhered to in these instances, we are driven to the conclusion that the cures were due to regimen and to some third power. That power must have been Nature. As a system of pure expec- tancy, then, homecopathy furnishes us with one of the largest proofs and strongest arguments for the extensive autocracy of Nature in the cure of disease. Since Expectation is as old as Hippocrates, the assertion that homocopathy had a direct and original influence in mod- ifying the heroic practice of the older school of medicine can- not be fully sustained. The theories of Broussais had some in- fluence on the practice of this country, and they were broached before those of Hahnemann. Common sense and observation had been gradually modifying the treatment to meet the changed and feebler type of American diseases; and the medication of the Northeastern States is, and has long been, less heroic than that of England. Homceopathy has been successively modified by tacitly resigning the psoric origin of disease, and the high attenuations; giving medicines often, and in quick succession, or even alternating them at brief intervals; and using aperients, leeches, and baths. There remains only the baseless law of therapeutics, Similia similibus curantur; and thus the original system of llahnemann has ended in the practice of unproved specific (pseudo-specific) medicine. Last year, at Paris, Doctors Latour and Gallard, editor of and con- tributor to L Union llledicale, were sued for damages, laid at 50,000 francs, by twenty homocopathic physicians, for libel, in calling them ignoramus, juggler, and charlatan. The Tribunal de la Seine gave judgment for the defendants. M. 202 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, Andral, son of the savant, counsel for the defence, said that the doctrine of Similia similibus, etc. had been declared false by all the scientific bodies of Europe, and all but one in Amer- ica (the Pennsylvania llomo~opathic College); when it had been tested before regular physicians, it had always failed; and lie exhibited. prescriptions of one of the plaintiffs, Dr. Love, which consisted of large doses of allopathic remedies. He closed with the noble saying of Pascal: If it is wicked to have no respect for truth, it is just as wicked to have no con- tempt for falsehood. We have now reached the last method of employing the indirect or vicarious action of medicine in the treatment of disease, which is called the auxiliary or mild treatment, Rational Expectancy. Disregarding the extinguishing mode as obsolete, and the specific, as being as yet inapplicable to most maladies, this method seeks to follow the just and middle course between active and purely expectant treatment. This form of practice, though based on the two great facts of the great power of Nature to cure acute diseases, and the compar- atively small power of Art, is far from ignoring the existence or value of the medical art. It aims only at aiding Nature, or where it cannot aid, is careful not to thwart her. Dr. Forbes regards it as the most philosophical, the safest, the surest, and the most successful of all modes of practice. He defines its indications as follows : 1 st. To place the diseased body in the most favorable circumstances for the development and exercise of its own conservative powers, by the institution of a proper regimen, in the most comprehensive sense of that term. 2d. To endeavor thereby, or through the use of medi- caments, to remove such obstacles to the favorable action of the con- servative and restorative powers, as may be removable without the risk of checking or injuriously perverting them. 3d Not to attempt, by any vigorous measures, to alter the course of the morbid processes so long as they seem to keep within the limit of safety, and when they transgress or threaten to transgress this limit, only then to endeavor to modify them by such mild measures as, if they fail in doing good, can- not do much harm. 4th. To be on the watch against possible contin- gencies, which may demnnd the employment of measures of exceptional activity, whether in the form of regimen or medicine; and, when re- quired, to apply such measures with the necessary vigor. This last 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 203 indication refers to such contingencies as great irritation or pain, ex- haustion, sleeplessness, diarrha~a which often admit of great miti- gation by drugs, dietetic stimulants, & c. pp. 239, 240. In a similar way, Dr. Bigelow defines his idea of the true position and practice of the medical art; while deprecating heroic treatment, yet advocating the necessity of moderate means of interference. The man must be somewhat of a stoic who can look upon a case of severe colic, or of the multiform distresses which result from over- tasked organs of digestion, and quiet his conscience with administering inappreciable globules, instead of remedies It is the part of rational medicine to alleviate the sufferings of the sick. And for this end alone, were there no other, physicians would be necessary as a pro- fession The power of the medical art to palliate diseases is shown in a multitude of ways, active, cautious, and expectant. The pain of acute pleurisy is relieved by venesection; that of pleurodynia, by anodynes and external applications. The pain of acute rheumatism is postponed by opium; that of gout, by colchicum. Synovitis is favor- ably affected by rest; chronic rheumatism more frequently by exercise. Cathartics, laxatives, emetics, leeches, counter-irritants, cupping, hot and cold applications, etc. are of benefit in various local and general maladies. Yet these remedies, especially the more energetic of them, are often employed when not necessary. Expositions of Rational Medicine, pp. 43, 52, 53. Rational Expectancy, says Sir John Forbes, occupies the happy medium between doing too little nnd doing too much. Without seeking to encumber Nature with help, where help is not needed, it proffers aid in all cases where it is required and can be applied; and though the aid may not be great, it is positive, and weakened by no counteracting force. The other physiological modes of treatment, on the other hand, if they sometimes do more good, also often do more harm; and on at- tempting to estimate their positive value generally, it is not easy to say on which side the balance lies. p. 243. The concluding chapter of his volume gives a General Estimate of the Powers of the Medical Art. Sydenham, who may be justly ranked with Hippocrates and Hunter, as one of the three greatest practical healers, disgusted with its quarrels and con- flicting theories, stigmatized medicine as Ars garrulandi po- tius quam sanandi. The illustrious Boerhaave ordered all his library to be burned after his death, save one volume, entitled 204 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, The Whole Art of Healing. When this was eagerly opened by his pupils, it was found a perfect blank, with the exception of the following short sentence written on the fly-leaf: Head cool, feet warm, and bowels open, will make doctors poor. Celsus had a keen appreciation of the short-comings of the medical art when he said of it, with Latin brevity, Sanitatem ai?gris promittit. Its failures to redeem its promises have been subjects of jest and satire ever since. At first esteemed a divine art, clothed with some unknown mysterious power to strangle disease, we have seen it gradually despoiled of many of its positive attributes. Since diseases have been found to be no longer distinct entities, enemies because for- eigners, but to have a natural progress and laws of their own, to be, many of them, self-limited, to terminate, in acute cases, almost as spontaneously in health as in death, though when tending in the fatal path to be frequently incu- rable, the medical art has proportionately declined in arro- gance, and been reduced from its false assumptions as a con- troller, to its more humble, but true position, as a handmaid and helper of Nature. iDr. James Jackson long since drew attention to the proper definition of the word cure, by com- paring it with its Latin origin, saying, that it does not mean to cure, but to take care of, that is, it implies the safe-con- duct of the sick. As the good curate watches his flock, and guides them aright, so should the physician strive only to guide and conduct the diseases of his patient. In the vast majority of diseases the medical art can, in strict lan- guage, even when exerting its powers most successfully, hardly be said to cure diseases at all. All that it [now] professes to do, and all that it does, is to influence diseases in an indirect and partial or imperfect manner, by modifying, to a greater or less extent, the functions of cer- tain organs, with the view and in the hope of thus modifying the pro- cesses in which the malady consists; that is to say, modifying them in such wise as to render them less dangerous to the integrity of the animal system, and more controllable by its inherent conservative and reparative processes. Forbes, p. 256. A young physician once asked the late Dr. Twitchell of Keene, who by his practical good sense had acquired a wide reputatiou, what his principles of practice were, expecting to 1859.] NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. 205 hear some very profound remarks on the subject. But the sagacious old man replied, My principles are very simple. If the patient is hot, I cool him; if he is cold, I warm him; if there is pain or restlessness, I relieve it; if there are irri- tating matters, I evacuate them; if any secretion is scanty, I try to make it free. These are some of my most important principles. But with all these drawbacks, Dr. Forbes justly says, According to the lowest estimate that can be properly formed of the Medical Art, it must still hold its pre-eminence as one of the great- est boons that human intellect has ever elaborated for the benefit of man s estate. With all its feebleness and all its uncertainties, it pos- sesses, and ever must possess, a sufficiency of solid truth and solid power to make it worthy of the study of the noblest intellects and the tenderest hearts. pp. 261, 262. We cannot take leave of Sir John Forbes, without calling attention to the vast number of commendatory correspondents whom his first article on these subjects, in 1846, called into the field. We fancy we recognize the hand of the Ncstor of our profession here, in one of the earliest letters; the author of Rational Medicine heartily commends his views to the American public, and he is ably seconded in a long article by Andrew Combe, on the Observation of Nature in the Treat- ment of Disease. We should hardly be doing justice to a very able writer in bringing this long article to a close without some further notice of Dr. Hookers Prize Essay on Rational Therapeu- tics. Our space will limit us to a few of his general laws. Chomel first promulgated the Golden Rule of therapeutics, when he uttered the maxim, Do good, or, at least, no harm. Our author adds three other laws. The first in opposition to the old maxim, Melius anceps remedium quam nullum is, that no active medicine should be used in any case, unless the evidence is clear that it will effect good. The second is, that the practice in each case should be based mostly upon what we know of the modus operandi of remedies. The third inculcates that we should be governed in our treatment of disease by the actual effects which we see our remedies pro- duce. VOL. LXXXIX. NO. 184. 18 206 NATURE AND ART IN THE CURE OF DISEASE. [July, The autocracy of Nature that long-sought tertium quid in therapeutics having beeii at last found, it only remains for us to notice briefly, in conclusion, the means for improve- ment, the grounds for hope, and the sources of danger for the practitioner; and to indicate the true position and path of progress for medical art. Though we may agree with the author of Letters to a Young Physician, that no one man knows all that is known about medicine, yet the young man will find quite as much, in the recorded evidence of his predecessors, to mislead, as to guide him rightly. The practitioner must possess, first, sufficient knowledge to diagnosticate the disease; and, sec- ondly, sufficient sense, as well as knowledge, to make up a correct judgment on the course to be pursued. These two requisites, then, the cultivation of the powers of observation and the possession of common sense, are the way of progress for the physician. Other means of improvement, as well as grounds for hope, lie open through the three following paths: first, the careful and extended study of the natural history of disease; secondly, the systematic proving of drugs experi- mentally, on the physiological law, that the effects of drugs in disease can be judged by their effects in health; thirdly, the study of physiology and pathology, including all the aids which chemistry and the microscope can furnish. The sources of danger and error are numerous. Most common of all is loose reasoning, such as fills the tomes of llahnemann and Jahr, as well as many writings of the older schools. We mean the mistaking of sequences for conse- quences: post hoc, ergo propter hoc! that everlasting stum- bling-block of common minds. Although Dr. Hooker well remarks that we need minute, recorded, impartial observa- tion, yet the numerical method is open to fallacies. Says Dr. Laycock, in the British and Foreign Medical Review: The result of my experience in vital statistics is, that the numerical method is one not as yet generally applicable to medical observations; or, if generally applicable, only in sim- ple points of detail. I consider it a truly scientific method; but, knowing the difficulty of minute diagnosis, I think a corps of trained observers is needed, trained in the same