scene of various view'." But Milton, like all the gardeners of his time, or of those which had preceded it, confined his paradise within high boundaries, and consequently excluded distant and rude prospect, the grand charm in modern gardening: for "the champaign head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket over-grown, grotesque and wild, Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm." The man who first threw down the garden-wall, and sunk the fosse, whether Kent or Bridgeman, may be truly said to have broken the spell that enabled the necromancer Art to hold the fair damsel Nature so long in chains, and to have made the terraqueous globe but one great garden. From that moment, beauty began to connect itself with utility, and grandeur with rustic labour; the pleasure-ground with the pastured and cultivated field; the gravel-walk with the public-road, and the garden-lake with the navigable-canal and the sea-that glorious fountain of universal communication among men, which enables the philosopher, the merchant, and the mariner, to visit every shore, and makes all things common to all. While our countrymen were thus employed with success in extending the circle of the arts, and in embellishing external nature, science was not neglected: they were not inattentive to the motions of the heavens, or the operations of the human mind. Locke and Newton had their successors, as well as Dryden and Milton. Halley illustrated the theory of the tides, and increased the catalogue of the stars; while Maclaurin made great progress in algebra, and Gregory reduced astronomy to a regular system. These men of genius were succeeded by very able mathematicians; but the era of mathematical discovery seems to be past. Greater proficiency has been made in other sciences, with which Newton was little acquainted. The vegetable system of Tull has led to great improvements in agriculture; and the bold discoveries of Franklin, in electricity, may be said to have given birth to a new 1 The resemblance of Milton's Eden to a garden laid out in the modern taste was first noticed by the late penetrating lord Kaimes, in chap. xxiv. of his Elements of Criticism, printed in 1762, "Milton," says he, "justly prefers the grand taste to that of regularity;" and he quotes part of the above extract, in confirmation of his remark. Yet Horace Walpole, the late earl of Orford, in retailing the same observation, almost twenty years later, seemed to assume the merit of it, and to congratulate himself, as if he had made an important discovery. science. With the purpose to be served by many of those discoveries, which at present so strongly engage the attention of philosophers, we are yet as much in the dark as in regard to the electric principle itself. But the beneficial effects of electricity in many medical cases, and the invention of metallic conductors, by which buildings and ships are preserved from the destructive force of lightning, entitle it to notice in a view of the progress of society, even if it should otherwise disappoint the hopes of its fond admirers. Among the successors of Locke, Hume is entitled to the first place; not that his metaphysical inquiries are more acute than those of Berkeley, Baxter, Hartley, or perhaps of Reid; but because his discoveries, like those of his great master, have a more intimate relation to human affairs-are of universal application in science, and closely connected with the leading principles of the arts. His beautiful analysis of the ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS, which he comprehends under three general heads, namely, Resemblance, including contrast, Contiguity in time or place, and Cause and Effect; and his ingenious Theory of the Passions, or the COMMUNICATION of EMOTIONS, immediately laid the foundation of that PHILOSOPHY of the FINE ARTS which was afterwards formed into a system by lord Kaimes, and which has since been illustrated by other elegant writers. But none of those writers illustrated the principles of Mr. Hume so happily as himself. They may be said, indeed, only to have written commentaries on his illustrations. One example will justify this remark. The subject is Unity of Action, about which all critics after Aristotle had talked so much, and to so little purpose, while they directed not their taste or sentiment by the accuracy of philosophy. "It appears," says he, "that in all productions, as well as the epic and tragic, there is a certain UNITY required, if we would produce a work which will give any lasting entertainment to mankind. An annalist or historian, who should undertake to write the HISTORY OF EUROPE during any century, would be influenced by the connection of Contiguity in time and place. All events which happen in that portion of space, and period of time, are comprehended in his design, though in other respects different and unconnected. They have still a species of unity amid all their diversity. But the most usual species of connexion, among the different events which enter into any narrative composition, is that of Cause and Effect; while the historian traces the series of actions according to their natural order, remounts to their secret springs and principles, and delineates their most remote consequences." If Mr. Hume was happy in illustrating his metaphysical system, he was yet more successful in exemplifying it. His Moral, Political, and Literary Essays, are perfect models of philosophical investigation. He is altogether logical, without the logical forms; he unites the plain perspicuity of Locke to the synthetic precision of Wollaston, and the analytical accuracy of Harris. But this great man, who has carried human reasoning to the utmost point of perfection, has endeavoured, by sceptical doubts, to destroy the certainty of all reasoning, and to undermine the foundations of both natural and revealed religion. His attack upon the latter leads to a very curious and important inquiry; the state of Christianity in England during the eighteenth century. I shall endeavour to trace the outlines of the subject, by way of termination to this view of the Progress of Society. That general toleration, which was the immediate consequence of the Revolution, gave birth to great freedom of discussion in the affairs of religion. The crowd of sectaries, no longer united by the common bond of persecution, or restrained by fear from unveiling the supposed errors of the church, entered into a bold' investigation of the sublime mysteries of Christianity; and the apostles of each sect keenly censured the tenets of all who presumed to differ from them on any particular point. Numerous disputes were warmly agitated about doctrines of no importance to the rational Christian. But this pious warfare was not sufficient to keep alive the fervour of zeal either in the church or among the dissenters, in a state of unbounded liberty of conscience. A general moderation began to prevail, and the more enlightened sectaries seemed ready to join the hierarchy; when certain fiery spirits, filled with indignation at such lukewarmness, and panting for the crown of martyrdom, gave birth to new sects of a warmer complexion, and obliged the heads of the old to enforce their particular tenets, in order to prevent the utter desertion of their followers. Whitfield and Wesley in England, and the two Erskines in Scotland, rekindled in all its ardour the flame of enthusiasm, which raged, for a time, with dazzling brightness, in spite of the utmost efforts of reason and ridicule. But the fuel of persecution, the stake and the faggot, being happily withholden, it has now in a great measure spent its force. Nor have the Methodists yet been able to number one martyr among the multitude of their saints. The spirit of infidelity (as it always will, in an enlightened age) kept pace with that of enthusiasm. As many of the wilder sectaries laid claim to divine illuminations, and in their ravings pretended to prophesy, some men of sceptical principles endeavoured to bring into suspicion, and even to destroy the credibility of, all prophesy; while others called in question the authenticity of the sacred books, both historical and prophetical. At the head of those sceptical writers, and the most dangerous, because, the most agreeable, may be placed Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke. Tindal, in his Christianity as old as the Creation, denied the necessity of the Gospel; as it promulgated, he affirmed, no principle or precept with which mankind were not formerly acquainted. Hume, in his Essay on Miracles, struck directly at its foundation, by attempting to show, that no human testimony is sufficient to establish the reality of a miracle. And an author, no less able or learned than either, has written an historical deduction, to prove that Christianity is of human origin. But these bold attacks have only served more firmly to establish true religion, while they have given a severe check to enthusiasm. They have led divines to examine minutely the proofs of revelation, and rendered them sensible of the propriety of explaining more rationally the mysteries in the Christian system; especially that of the Trinity, the Incarnation of the Word, and the miraculous influence of grace upon the human soul. The consequence has been, that all men of sound minds and good morals conform outwardly to the religion of their country, and most of them sincerely believe it to be of divine origin. The debasing doctrine of materialism has been exploded as unfriendly to all that is liberal in the human character, or endearing in the human condition': for he who considers this earthly spot as the only theatre of his existence, and its grave, instead of his first stage in progressive being, can never view nature with a cheerful, or man with a benevolent, eye. 1 A learned divine has attempted to give a new complexion to this doctrine; but his opinions are too whimsical to be generally received. END OF THE SECOND PART. PART III. FROM THE PEACE OF PARIS IN 1763, TO THE TREATY OF LETTER I. A general View of the Affairs and Politics of the Western Division of the European Continent, from the Treaty of Paris to the Close of the Reign of Louis XV. THE grand outlines of human nature, my dear son, are nearly the same in all ages and nations; but the lights and shades of the picture vary considerably at different periods and in distant regions. The political scenes of one division of the globe exhibit aspects very different from those which are presented in another part of the world; and modern history materially differs from that of ancient times. It bears a less abstract and more relative form; and the feelings of the actors who pass in review before us are more in unison with our own sensations. A respite from war was more urgently required by the financial distresses of France, and the disorders of her government, than by any embarrassment in the affairs of Great Britain. Louis XV., therefore, considered peace as a desirable acquisition; and he had no wish to break off the negotiation, when he found the British cabinet so ready to smooth the way by concession. Soon after the ratification of the treaty, while he was immersed in sensual pleasures, he was involved in a new contest 1 The distance of the period at which Dr. Russell closed his History, would naturally excite, among his readers, a wish for a continuation of the work; and that desire, it might be supposed, would be invigorated by the extraordinary importance of many of the events and transactions of recent times. The difficulty of compressing, within the narrow limits of two volumes, the History of Modern Europe for sixty-two years, did not deter me from undertaking the task. It cannot be expected that an exact uniformity should prevail between the continuation and the preceding work; for such an idea would border on the visionary doctrine of the Metempsychosis or transmigration of souls. Such a general resemblance, in sentiment, manner, and arrangement, as may not exclude particular discrepancy or occasional variance, may be deemed sufficient for every reasonable purpose.-C. COOTE. |