REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. Elements of Moral Science. By James DR BEATTIE defervedly ranks high as an elegant writer, both in morals, and literature. The prefent work is highly valuable to the young ftudent in moral science, as it contains the fubftance of the remarks of the best writers, who have treated on the fubjects which it difcuffes; as a fpecimen we shall give one or two extracts. At the conclufion of our author's remarks on republican government he fays "Republican government has produced great men; for it calls forth into action all the human faculties, and gives encouragement to military and political genius; fo that men of thefe talents can hardly fail to make a figure in it. But on account of the contentions that prevail in it, which are the more formidable because all parties think themselves equally entitled to fupremacy, it does not feem favourable to public happinefs, nor is it friendly to private virtue. At Athens, a citizen no fooner became eminent for great abilities, or even for great integrity, than his countrymen began to look on him as dangerous on account of his popularity, which they thought might give him too much influence; and then it was cuftomary to banish him for ten years, by a vote not of the majority of the citizens, but of fix thousand, not quite a third part: this was called Oftracism, from the thells (oftraka) on which, on thofe occafions, they used to write their votes. At Rome, the lower orders of people fuffered incredible oppreffion from the higher. In the latter times of the republic, and indeed not long after the beginning of it, the Romans of rank and wealth, many of them at least, were immoderately attached to riches, and unmercifully fevere in the treatment of thofe debtors who were not able to pay; whom they often punished with fcourging and flavery, and fometimes even with death. tion and fecrecy; becaufe many people "A republic cannot act with expedi must be confulted before it can act at all. In modern times, therefore, when the About the middle of the feventeenth century, a party, in England, of republi cans, or rather of thofe whofe meaning it was to level all diftinctions of men in political fociety, murdered the king, abolished the peerage, and endeavoured to introduce their favourite form (I know not whether to fay) of government or of of anarchy. But the experience of a few years proved the scheme to be abfurd; partly, from the impoffibility of the thing itfelf; partly, from the ambitious views of the ringleaders in the rebellion, who, when they advanced to power, would nor return to republican equality; and partly, no doubt, from the extent of the empire, which made it impoffible to col left the fentiments of the whole people; and unfafe to take that for a majority which might have only the appearance of one. Even now, there are not wanting among us, perfons, who not only affect to admire republican government, for which nobody would blame them (as fimple admiration can do no political mifchief), but infinuate, that our monarchy ought to be fubverted, and a republic established in its room. But be fore this conceit, fo fraught with confufion, robbery, and maffacre, be allowed to influence a quiet Chriftian, or a prudent man, he will ferioufly confider, whether a republic, or such a conftitution as the British, be, in these days, and in this part of the world, the preferable form of policy; whether, and on what occafions, the religion of the New Teftamen authorifes the deftruction of lawful rulers and dutiful fubjects; and how far the teachers of this doctrine may be actuated by difappointed ambition, a turbulent fpirit, attachment to a party or to a theory, envy of those in superior station, or a defire to gain either a name by vend. ing paradoxes, or popularity by endeavouring to provoke the cenfure of the law. To clamour against the inequality of conditions in monarchical government, may be a popular topic; and among people fond of novelty and fpeculation, and among thofe who know not that political equality is impable, and, though poffible, would not be expedient, it may have influence. But if diverfity of ranks contribute to public good, as in monarchy (I mean free monarchy) it certainly does-to exclaim, Why fhould that fellow walk before me and be called Lord, while 1 an only Sir, or plain Thomas,' is not magnanimity, but the peevifh pride of a little mind; qui ftupet in titulis et imaginibus; which, instead, of undervaluing thefe diftinctions, as it pretends to do, fhews, that it admires and immoderately overvalues them. "I have heard modern republicans declaim on the profperity of Rome under its confuls, and of England under Oliver Cromwell. But that the Roman republic was generally a tumultuous government, and owed its prefervation (as already obferved) to a defpotic principle, which happened fortunately to be interwoven in its conftitution, is well known. And it is alfo well known, that England, in the interval between the death of Charles, and the restoration of his fon, owed its profperity, not to the freedom of its government, but to two other caufes entirely different; to the great abilities of a few individuals, as Cromwell, Blake, and fome others; and to the Protector's abitrary adminiftration. What was republican in the ftate, if there was in it any thing republi can, had no effect, at least no good effect what was defpotical in Cromwell happened, from the circumftances of that time, to have very great effects. In fact, England was never lefs republican than under Cromwell.” : Memoirs of the Literary and Philofophi cal Society of Manchefter, Vol. IV. Part 1. 8vo. Cadell. Art. 5. THIS paper is ingenious and entertaining, the following extracts will make the Doctor's Syftem, and his manner of writing, known to our readers. "Why is it that the view of a real fcene of diftrefs, in which we are not perfonally concerned, operates upon our feelings, but in confequence of that general principle of our nature, whereby the image of human paflions in another, excites correfponding emotions in ourselves? Reality itself cannot operate upon us without a medium; and in what refpe&t does the action, produced by the direct medium of the fenfes, differ fron that produced by the remoter mediums cf recollection, narration, or any mode of fictitious reprefentation; I behold or enquiry. It is, therefore, incompa tible with the impreffions of illufion; for, as foon as they are examined, they are at an end. We cannot ask ourselves whether they are true, without diícovering them to be falfe. But it is certain we are often fo impreffed with a notion, as to entertain no prefent doubts about it; though it is no object of our belief, but, on the contrary, has repeatedly been detected by us as a falfehood. a perfon fuffering under the extremity of torture, and find myfelf highly affected at the fpectacle. I make his feeling in fome refpect my own ;-my flesh creeps upon my bones, and the pain of fympathy rifes to fuch a degree as to become intollerable. It is now over, and that portion of human mifery has no longer an existence. Still the scene recurs to my mind, and whenever it intrudes, all my pain is renewed, though with lefs intenfity; and this continues to be the cafe till the ideas fade away. The indentity of the fenfation is proved by the famenefs of the corporeal effects. If I fhuddered and turned pale at the real fpectacle, I do the fame at the first recollections: if I ran with horror from the former, I plunge into company or business to deliver me from the latter. Now, if it be allowed that my own mind, acting upon itself, without the aid of external objects, be capable of creating an imaginary fcene, indiftinguishable in its effects from a real one, why fhould not equal power be granted to thofe artificial methods, in which refembling fenfible objects are called in to allift the operations of the fancy? "But, it may be faid, no one denies, as a matter of fact, the power of recollection and fictitious reprefentation to move the paffions; and the question is only, what is neceffary to the production of this effect? Now, fince in the cafe of a recollected fcene, it cannot be a belief of reality, (for no man believes that the event on which he reflects, is acted over again) why fhould fuch belief have any thing more to do with the efficacy of fiction? And this reafoning on which Doctor Johnfon diffufely dwells) is juft, as far as it goes; but his error confifts in confounding with proper belief, that impreffion of reality, or temporary illufion, which I conceive abfolutely effential to account for the undoubted effects produced by all the various imitations of action. Belief is the confequence of a reflex operation of the mind, by which we are convinced of a truth, after examination "Dr Johnfon himself, fpeaking of what he terms the extrusion of Glo❜fter's eyes in Lear, fays, that it "feems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and fuch as must always compel the mind to relieve its diftrefs by incredulity." Does not this expressly imply, that a lefs horrid and unnatural action would pafs on the stage for real; and that the ufual affection of the mind, in dramatic exhibitions, is an impreffion of reality? Hiftorical incredu lity cannot be here meant; for how are we fure that the ftory was not true? befides, we read, with intollerable tranquillity, of facts ftill more fhocking. muft then be the "incredulus odi" of Horace-a resolution to discard and reject what fo much pains us. Horace did not difbelieve that Medea had murdered her children; but when the fact was reprefented to him, in a vifible difplay, the horror he felt made him refuse to admit it as a true scene." It "Attend me next to the theatre. I go, it is acknowledged, with the full conviction that the place is Drury-lane, and that the actors are merely players, reprefenting a fiction for their own emolument. Nay, I go with the avowed purpofe of feeing a favourite actrefs in a particular character. The curtain draws up, and after fome preparation, enters Mrs Siddons in Belvidera. The firft employment of my mind is to criticife her performance; and I admire the juftnefs of her action, and the unequalled expreffiveness of her tones and looks. The play proceeds, and I am made privy to a horrid plot. With this, domeftic diftreffes are mingled, involving the two most interefting characters in the piece. By degrees, degrees, I lose fight of Mrs Siddons in her proper perfon, and only view her in the affumed fhape of Belvidera. I ceafe to criticife her, but give way, with full foul, to all the fentinients of love, tenderness, and anxiety which fhe utters. As the catastrophe advances, the accumulated diftrefs and anguish lay faft hold on my heart: I fob, weep, am almoft choaked with the mixed emotions of pity, terror, and apprehenfion, and totally forget the theatre, the actors, and the audience, till, perhaps, my attention to prefent objects is recalled by the fcreams or fwooning of a neighbour, ftill more affected than myfelf. Shall the cold critic now tell me, I am fure you do not believe Mrs Siddons to be Belvidera, and therefore you can only be affected in confequence of "the reflection that the evils before you are evils to which yourfelf may be expofed-you rather lament the poffibility than fuppofe the prefence of mifery." The indentity of Belvidera is out of the queftion; for who was Belvidera? and certainly my own liability to evils, fome of them impoffible to happen to me, and others highly improbable, is the fartheft thing from my thoughts: befides, were the effect of a fpectacle of distress dependent on this principle, it would be equally requifite in the real, as in the fetitious fcene. What I feel is genuine fympathy, fuch as by a law of my nature ever refults from the image of a fuffering fellow-creature, by whatsoever means fuch an image is excited. The more powerfully it is impreffed on my imagination, and the more completely it banishes all other ideas, either of fenfe or reflection, the more perfect is its effect; and reality has no advantage in this refpect over fiction, as long as the temporary illufion produced by the latter continues. That fuck an illufion fhould take place at the theatre, where every circumstance art can invent has been employed to favour it, cannot be thought extraordinary, after it has been shewn that a fcene of the mind's own creation can effect it. "And for what end, but that of deception, are fuch pains taken in adjuft ing the scenery, dreffes, decorations, &c. to as near a resemblance as poilible of reality?-Why might not the piece be as well read in the clofet, as reprefented on the stage, if all its effect depended on the pleafing modulation of language, prompting juft refi ctions on life and manners? Some effect, doubtless, is produced by a tragedy read; but this is exactly in proportion to the dramatic powers of the reader, and the strength of imagination in the hearer; and always falls much fhort of that of a perfect reprefentation on the stage. "But," fays the critic, "the delight of tragedy proceeds from a consciousness of fiction; if we thought murders and treafons real, they would please no more." Delight is not the word by which I would chufe to denote those fenfations in the deeper fcenes of tragedy, which often arife to fuch a pitch of intenfity, as to be really and exquifitely painful. I do not here mean to enter into an enquiry concerning the fource of the intereft we take in fpectacles of terror and diftrefs. It is fufficient to obferve, that just the same difficulty_here occurs in reality, as in fiction. Every awful and terrific fcene, from an eruption of Ætna, or an attack on Gibralter, to a street-fire, or a boxing-match, is gazed at by affembled multitudes. In hiftories, is it not the page of battles, "treafons and murders," on which we dwell with most avidity? I do not hefitate to affert, that we never behold with pleasure, in fictitious representation, what we fhould not have viewed with a fimilar fenfation in real action. The truth is, that many of the tragic diftreffes are fo blended with lofty and heroic fentiments, that the impreffion of forrow for the fufferer, is loft in applaufe and admiration." account he has given of the proceed- fufficient fortitude to bear an interview ings in Paris, at the execution of the king. "THE day before his execution, the king gave to one of the commiffioners a letter addreffed to Mr Edgeworth, who was the perfon he wished to attend him in his last moments. Mr Edgeworth's father was originally a Proteftant clergyman of a good family in Ireland, who was converted to the Roman Catholic religion, and had eftablifhed himself in France, where he bred his fon as an ecclefiaftic, in the faith which he himself preferred. The fon recommended himself fo much by his good conduct and excellent character, that he was chofen by the Princess Elizabeth as her confeffor; by which means he became known to, and highly efteemed by, the king; of which he gave the Strongest proof, by fending for him on this awful occafion. The king's letter was carried to Mr Edgeworth by three foldiers, fent by the council of the commune. The contents of the letter were requesting his attendance but if he found himself, from apprehenfion of the confequence, or any other caufe, averfe to come, entreating him to find another priest who had not the fame reluctance. Mr Edgeworth informed the foldiers, that he would attend them directly to the Temple. His mother and fifter were then at a fmall diftance from Paris; he defired Madame d'Argouge, a relation with whom he lived when in town, not to inform them of what had happened, becaufe he saw that lady herself greatly alarmed, and feared that the might communicate her apprehenfions to them. Mr Edgeworth was conducted firft before the council in the Temple, and then to the king. On his being introduced, he inftantly fhewed fuch marks of respect and fenfibility as affected the unfortunate prince fo much, that he burst into tears, and was for fome moments unable to speak at length he faid, "Excufe me, Mr Edgeworth, 1 have not been accuftomed of late to the company of men like you." After paffing fome time with his confeffor, the king thought he had acquired with his family. The queen, princess Elizabeth, with the prince and princefsroyal, were conducted to his apartment. They continued near three hours together. No tragic poet has imagined a fcene more affecting than what was realized at this interview. The actors, fo lately placed in the moft brilliant fituation that the world can give-hurried from the fummit of human fplendor to the depth of human mifery. A fifter, children, and a wife, in a prifon, taking their last leave of a brother, father, and husband, rendered more dear than ever by his paft fufferings. their common calamity, and the dreadful fate awaiting him the following day. The king, though affected at different times beyond the power of expreffion, retained his recollection to the last. When they were to feparate, the princess Elizabeth mentioned their hopes of seeing him again in the morning, He allowed her to expect it. The queen could liften to no words of comfort. No confideration could prevent her from pouring forth her indignation, in the most violent expreffions, against the enemies of her husband. In the bitterness of her foul fhe beat her breaft and tore her hair; and her fcreams were heard at intervals, all that night, of agony and horror. After his family had withdrawn, the king remained for fome time with his eyes fixed on the ground without fpeaking; then with a profound figh he pronounced, "Ce moment etoit terrible." I have it from the best authority, that after his family were withdrawn, the mifery of his own fate did not engrofs his mind fo entirely as to exclude all folicitude for the fate of others; he enquired, in a most affectionate manner of Mr Edgeworth, for feveral whom he confidered as his friends, and particularly for the ecclefiaftics, who had been perfecuted with the greateft cruelty; and expreffed fatisfaction at hearing that many of them had efcaped to England, where they were received with kindness and hofpitality. Mr Edgeworth prevailed on him to go to bed four hours. He |