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Secularia-Memoir of Sir Philip Sidney.

223 adequate criticism of the work. We can only say of it, that it has afforded us pleasure and instruction in the reading, that it is highly thoughtful and suggestive, but is, perhaps, less effective as a whole through the wide diversities of the parts. The criticisms on Lord Macaulay and Mr. Carlyle are candid, discriminating, and just. Mr. Lucas has exhibited singularly well the theory of the former on the manner in which history should be written, and the consequent defects of the history he has produced. The burlesque extravagance of Carlyle in that glorious monstrosity, 'The History of Frederick 'the Great,' is well drawn, and sufficiently laughed at. former work this is Mr. Lucas's conclusion: What a triumph that, 'with all these blemishes, great and small, Lord Macaulay has 'given us a book which will not only live, but which threatens by its fascination "to supersede history." What a grasp it evinces; 'what a light it sheds frequently on the obscurest data; what a 'welcome shock it gives to our torpid recollections. No one now 'living could have written five such volumes; and if we have ' remembered that we had to perform a critic's duty, we must not 'forget that we have to record a nation's gratitude. As a source 'of enjoyment it has been eagerly acknowledged; it is read, and it 'will be re-read; it will go down to posterity; it will pass to distant 'nations and to foreign climes, and it will be a ктñμa ès àeí,—but 'it is not the History of England.'

In the Survey of the Present-Revolutions in Progress'-we are happy to notice incidentally that so thoughtful and philosophical a writer and inquirer as Mr. Lucas, shares our incredulity as to the redintegration of the American Union, and that he anticipates eventual, but certain and vast advantages from the inevitable revision of the European Treaties of 1815.

A Memoir of Sir Philip Sidney. By H. R. Fox BOURNE. London: Chapman & Hall. 1862.-Mr. Bourne has produced a very watery, diffuse, and gossiping book on a very solid and noble subject. He evidently does not subscribe to the dogma that circumstances make men; yet he has expended much more space on Sir Philip Sidney's circumstances than on Sir Philip himself. Admiration alone, however ardent, will not keep one going through better than five hundred pages; there must be fuel as well as flame, unless the flame is to degenerate into flicker, and cease to be called fire. Sir Philip Sidney, Lumen familiæ suæ, was born at Penshurst, in Kent, in November, 1554. By both parents he was of distinguished descent, and was surrounded from the first with the best and happiest influences of home. He got through a creditable, but by no means a very brilliant schooling under Ashton, of ShrewsburyShrewsbury school ranking at that time as the first in England. In his fourteenth or fifteenth year we find him at Christ Church, Oxford; that he was accounted an 'apt and diligent scholar,' though, like abundance of other 'apt and diligent scholars,' he did not think it worth while to take a degree. Having left the University, he spent two or three years travelling in France, Germany, and Italy,

and formed, in the course of his tour, some friendships and many acquaintanceships among the most distinguished men of his time, especially with the Huguenot Languet. He was in Paris at the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, and we find that everywhere he saw much, purposely laid himself out to gain the greatest possible experience during the time at his disposal, and returned to England and the court of Elizabeth, in his twenty-first year, a ripe scholar, a cultivated man of the world, an accomplished cavalier, a wary and sagacious but bold statesman. He had not been long here when he was despatched on an embassy to Rodolph, the new Emperor of Germany (1577), and acquitted himself so well as to gain praise from his august employer. Returned from this second visit to the Continent, he spent a good deal of unprofitable time at court, was alternately smiled on and frowned on according to Elizabeth's good pleasure, engaged in a foolish flirtation, began to occupy himself with literary composition, and at the same time continued to be a close observer of European politics. In 1583 he was married to a daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, and when, some two years later, there broke out the long-pending storm in the Netherlands, Sir Philip Sidney acquitted himself so well that no man could have done better. After successfully defending Flushing (of which he had been made governor), and capturing Axel against great odds, he fought at Zutphen with such results as have alone redeemed that field from the common-place hewing and confusion of myriads of forgotten battles.

Mr. Bourne has included in his memoir an account of Sir Philip's writings, and has given considerable extracts from them, especially from the Arcadia.' He praises abundantly, but has so much to say about and about' them and their surroundings, their accidents, associations, and the like, that an appreciative and critical examination he has either not attempted or has been unable to find room for. We do not think that the time was inopportune for a biography of Sidney, and we are sorry not to give higher praise to the pages before us, than to say they contain at least the principal materials for it.

American Dis-Union: Constitutional or Unconstitutional? A reply to Mr. James Spence. By CHARLES ED. RAWLINS, JUN. London: Hardwicke. 1862.-In his very able book, 'The American Union,' Mr. Spence has maintained that secession is a constitutional right. Mr. Rawlins entertains a precisely opposite conviction, and discharges his conscience by publishing this work to say so. In every way but one, it does him infinite credit. He is not a wholesale admirer of America, endeavours (and not unsuccessfully) to judge impartially, writes with great knowledge and mastery of the subject, and writes always clearly, vigorously, and well. In reading his pages one is irresistibly tempted into the impertinence of personalities. He compels us to be perfectly certain that he is generally to be found pretty wide awake, that he is never known to shirk the matutinal cold bath, that he must enjoy abundant health and a

American Dis-Union-Chasles's Galileo.


strongly equable, if not occasionally exuberant, flow of animal spirits. In fact, he makes us sorry not to agree with him wholly, and reminds us, while we say so, of the feeling experienced by Tom Troubridge, when offered Frank Maberly's 'ratty hand '-that it would be pleasanter to shake hands with him than to fight him.' All which conciliation of good-will, however, does not convince us that Mr. Rawlins has been successful in his argument. Granting his premises to have the meaning he attaches to them, his conclusion is unassailable; but he has put into those premises, so far as we can judge (and they are far from new to us), more than most men will admit they contain. From his own standpoint he is right; from ours he is wrong. What Hamilton, and Madison, and Jay said is one thing; and what was the construction really put upon their Constitution by the Federated States themselves, we certainly regard as a different thing. Indeed, notwithstanding all the advantages under which it was drawn up, that Constitution is an inherently inconsistent document. Nothing, we believe, would have made the several consenting States agree to that which Mr. Rawlins maintains that Hamilton meant; nor would anything but a change in his phraseology, which they would at once have repudiated, have made them at that time even see what he meant. But surely the time is either wholly gone by, or is not yet nearly come, for a discussion of the question which Mr. Rawlins has answered. Whether certain formulas of expression do or do not contain a given significance, has now come to matter but little. There is a higher law than even the Constitution of the Federated States, and to that the Secessionists have made their appeal. We doubt, indeed, whether Mr. Rawlins has not himself virtually given up his brief even in his first chapter, resolving the question, as he does in effect, into one of expediency.

Essays; Historical and Biographical, Political and Social, Literary and Scientific. By HUGH MILLER. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black. London: Hamilton, Adams and Co. 1862.-This volume is a reprint of articles selected from the many hundreds of Hugh Miller's editorial contributions to the Witness newspaper. They are edited and prefaced by Mr. Peter Bayne, who seems to us to exaggerate their merits. They are concerned with as wide a variety of topics as one would expect from the circumstances of their production, and show powers of thought and expression such as the public has long been accustomed to associate with the name of their most lamented author. They resemble his more finished compositions, but do not equal them, though as newspaper articles they undoubtedly deserve high rank.

Galileo Galilei; sa Vie, son Procès, et ses Contemporains. D'apres des Documents Originaux. Par PHILARETE CHASLES, Professeur au Collège de France. Paris: Poulet-Malassis. 1862.-Availing himself of the researches of Von Remusat and others, Professor Chasles has produced a succinct, graphic, and most interesting life of Galileo, such as we have long been in want of. He belongs, however, to what one may describe as the school of disenchanters.


He proves, and proves overwhelmingly, that the Galileo of that immortal E pur si muove, is not the Galileo of history, but only of admiring fiction. Sorrowfully but sternly-compelled, as we are obliged to believe, simply by the exigencies of the ascertained facts -he exhibits the whole man; his inconsistencies; the absolute pusillanimity with which he shrank back from the glory he coveted because of the inconveniences, rather than the dangers, with which it was accompanied; the suppleness with which he sought to be all things to all men, deceiving few besides himself; the rashness he so frequently combined with fear; and the most deliberate and protracted dishonesty with which he denied the whole truth of the science he had been sent from God to teach. Yet, notwithstanding all this, we still love and venerate Galileo. He rendered immense service to the world, though sometimes half in spite of himself. Professor Chasles will pain not a few by unveiling, as he has done, the other half of the statue. He is not blind to its glorious beauty any more than to its shame. He has done well; for he has not only sought to be faithful to irrefutable truth, but has compelled us once more to turn over that strange problem of human contradictions, that seeming enormity in God's creation-a moral character most weak, and erratic, and cowardly, in combination with an intellect that towered immeasurably above the level of its age.

The Works of Thomas De Quincey. Author's Edition, with Illustrations. Vols. II., III., IV., V. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black. 1862. There can be no question that he who would possess a really perfect edition of the works of De Quincey, should order the edition before us. In type, paper, size, finish, and elegance, it leaves nothing to be desired. The second volume, containing the 'Recollections of the Lakes,' is one for which we confess we have more predilection than for many of its fellows. No one so well, or half so well as De Quincey, has told us what that Lake Society was, or has made us see so intimately the beauty and purity of the lives of the three poets-Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey-who gave it the name and place it so long retained wherever our literature was known.

Among the lesser pieces, 'Murder, as one of the Fine Arts,' is terrible in its power, though it seems to gloat morbidly over the frightful crimes with which it is conversant. Happily, we are allowed to lose some of the effects of it in a long ride in the same volume on the box-seat of the Royal Mail, as it was in the days of four-in-hand glory. The 'Memorials of the Last Days 'of Kant' are full of minute details, which make known to us only a small part, and the poorest part, of the great thinker's life. Besides the Last Days of Kant,' the third volume contains, the 'Spanish Military Nun,' System of the Heavens, as Revealed by Lord Rosse's Telescopes,' Joan of Arc,'Modern Superstition,' and a paper as completely characteristic of the writer as any he ever wrote, The Casuistry of Roman Meals.' It is full of De Quincey's refined and minute learning, of suggestion, of elegance that is not

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The New Translation of the Jewish War.


without a pleasant familiarity, of strong sense and sound logic, all conveyed in his finished and powerful style. The fifth volume treats of Shelley, Goldsmith, Wordsworth, Keats, Homer, Whiggism, &c.


The Jewish War of Flavius Josephus; with his Autobiography. A New Translation, by the late Rev. ROBERT TRAILL, D.D., M.R.I.A. Edited, with Notes, &c., by ISAAC TAYLOR, Esq. Illustrated by Seventy-five Engravings on Steel, from Drawings made in Palestine expressly for this work. London Houlston & Wright. -We scarcely know in what fashion best to speak of this book, being assured that many of our readers will turn to the next page as soon as they have read but the first half of its title. Flavius Josephus is a name of power, just as morphea, laudanum, and the like, are drugs of power. You take down Whiston's 'Josephus,' and read any part of it, chosen at random, to a restless patient addicted to wakefulness, and if such patient is just strong enough not to be driven distracted at hearing the sound thereof, you infallibly produce first the quiet of a man trying to find out a puzzle, then a perplexed stupor, and finally the profound sleep in which nature takes thankful refuge from Whiston and Josephus both alike. Gently spoken, Josephus, as known to most men, is a bore of the first magnitude. You can neither get rid of him nor tolerate him. He oppresses you insufferably. You cannot help wishing now and then that he had either never been born, or had perished with Livy's lost 'Decades.' You are occasionally even touched with retrospective sympathy for what is not unnaturally supposed to have been the long-protracted martyrdom of the translator. And yet all this time it is not Josephus, but that same translator who should have been denounced as a bore and as something even worse. For, instead of translating that magnificent old Jew, he has only dug up a skeleton, and presented us with a calf-bound sarcophagus of bones. In fact, those who know Josephus only through Whiston's version, may rest assured that they do not know him at all; that Josephus was not only not the overloaded writer, staggering under what his shrivelled, parchment-covered, and ill-jointed limbs were never made to bear, but, so far from this, was a strong man, full of life, and grace, and force, and motion. He not only possessed every accomplishment befitting the combination of priestly and princely rank, but engrafted these upon a nature which, in everything but the highest qualities of earnest sincerity, was singularly affluent both in the variety of its endowments and in the extent to which they were possessed. He lived in times, and was the spectator and participator in actions and events, which might well have 'created a 'soul under the ribs of death;' yet to most of his English readers he has been made to appear little better than a high-tempered and harsh old man, labouring impotently under the burden of perplexing and most wearying speech. Of all who have reason to complain of this-and their name is legion-Josephus is surely

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