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re-enter, all at once, into their British birth-rights?-This consideration alone, one might think, should stop the mouth of Captiousness itself.”

Much learning and address are displayed in this work; and it merits a very serious and candid perusal. There is a vein of grave irony in the discussion of some subjects, which would induce the protestant reader rather to smile than tremble at the catholic system. It is indirectly hinted that transubstantiation is absurd. As to the celibacy of the clergy, and the establishment of nunneries, the apologist is quite sportive on those points. Pilgrimages he pronounces to be idle, useless, and obsolete things; and as to beads, rosaries, medals, agnus Deis, scapularies, &c. he terms them pious play-things for old women and children,-of which the English Roman catholics, in general, will not lament the loss.'

If this be a fair representation of the case, and the generat body of English papists will ratify this writer's declarations, (respecting which there may be some doubts,) their religion is gradually undergoing a reform; and papal ceremony and superstition are giving way to the noble simplicity of genuine Christianity. Sincerely do we wish that it may be so; and that the endeavours of this author may be successful, as far as they tend to so desirable a purpose, and to the removal of al coercive measures where they are no longer requisite.

Art. XI. Miscellanies. By James Hay Beattie, A. M. with an Account of his Life and Character, by James Beattic. LL.D. 12mo. 6s. Boards. Mawman. 1799.

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HIS work is intended to form a second volume to the Minstrel, written by Dr. Beattie, and published about the year 1771 (see M. Rev. vol. xliv.) It consists of essays and fragments in prose and verse by his son, a most promising youth, who died at the early age of twenty-two; and prefixed to these is an account of the life and character of the author, written by his father. Considered as an affectionate tribute to the memory of an amiable and much to be lamented son, this is an interesting composition; especially after the explanation given to it in the reign of Elizabeth: and this, I believe, is the opinion of several sensible persons of our communion. But as others, and perhaps a much greater number, deem the oath ambiguous, and in some sort captious, might not the Legislature explain its nature in a more explicit manner, and make it palatable to scrupulous consciences, without destroying its original intent? Or, perhaps, a formal declaration of the ordinary expounders of law might be sufficient. At any rate, the refusing to take it, unexplained as it is, is a manifest proof that the refusers believe not that the Pope can dispense with such oaths.'

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to those who enjoyed his friendship, or who had a personaf knowlege of him: but for the generality of readers, whom perhaps the name of the author had never reached, the detail of his short and eventless life will not possess equal interest. Where, however, a man of any singular excellence or prominent merit makes his appearance, the circumstances of his history, the particulars of his education, and whatever may have contributed to the formation of his character, become in some degree objects of curiosity, because they may eventually prove sources of instruction. How far the moral and intellectual character of Mr. Beattie was influenced by his education, we cannot decide; since there does not appear to have been any great singularity of method adopted in this respect; and the attention of the pupil, under the guidance of parental good sense, was directed to the common objects and the usual As a specimen, however, of the manner of religious instruction employed by Dr. Beattie, we shall select the following anecdote:

attainments.

The first rules of morality 1 taught him were, to speak truth, and keep a secret; and I never found that in a single instance he transgressed either.

The doctrines of religion I wished to impress on his mind, as soon as it might be prepared to receive them; but I did not see the propriety of making him commit to memory theological sentences, or any sentences, which it was not possible for him to understand. And I was desirous to make a trial how far his own reason could go in tracing out, with a little direction, the great and first principle of all religion, the being of GOD. The following fact is mentioned, not as a proof of superior sagacity in him (for I have no doubt that most children would in like circumstances think as he did), but merely as a moral or logical experiment.

He had reached his fifth [or sixth] year, knew the alphabet, and could read a little; but had received no particular information with respect to the Author of his being: because I thought he could not yet understand such information; and because I had learned from my own experience, that to be made to repeat words not understood is extremely detrimental to the faculties of a young mind. In a corner of a little garden, without informing any person of the circumstance, I wrote in the mould, with my finger, the three initial letters of his name; and, sowing garden cresses in the furrows, covered up the seed, and smoothed the ground, Ten days after, he came running to me, and with astonishment in his countenance told me, that his name was growing in the garden. I smiled at the report, and seemed inclined to disregard it; but he insisted on my going to see what had happened. Yes, said I carelessly, on coming to the place, I see it is so; but there is nothing in this worth notice; it is mere chance: and I went away. He followed me, and, taking hold of my coat, said, with some earnestness, it could not be mere chance; for that some body must have

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contrived matters so as to produce it. I pretend not to give his words, or my own, for I have forgotten both; but I give the substance of what passed between us in such language as we both understood.-So you think, I said, that what appears so regular as the letters of your name cannot be by chance. firmness, I think so. Yes, said he, with your hands and fingers, your legs and feet, and other limbs; are Look at yourself, I replied, ad consider they not regular in their appearance, and useful to you? He said, they were. Came you then hither, said I, by chance? No, he answered, that cannot be; something must have made me, And who is that something, I asked. He said, he did not know. (I took particular notice, that he did not say, as Rousseau fancies a child in like circumstances would say, that his parents made him.) I had now gained the point I aimed at and saw, that his reason taught him, (though he could not so express it) that what begins to be must have a cause, and that what is formed with regularity must have an intelligent cause. I therefore told him the name of the Great Being who made him and all the world; concerning whose adorable nature I gave him such information as I thought he could in some measure comprehend. The lesson affected him greatly, and he never forgot either it, or the circumstance that introduced it.' The following passages contain some account of the young author's character:

Piety and meekness were striking features in his character, habitual to him in infancy, and through life. I find among his papers forms of devotion, composed for his own Christian Religion and its evidences he had studied with indefatigable use. The application; and the consequence was such, as may be always expected in like cases, where the enquirer has candour and sense: no person could love his religion more than he did, or believe in it with fuller assurance of faith. But in his behaviour there was no austerity or singularity. Even when he came to be a man, he had, when in health, and in the company of his intimate friends, all the playful, ness of a boy. The effect of religion upon his mind was, to make him chearful, considerate, benevolent, intrepid, humble, and happy. Of the contracted principles and unamiable prejudices of sectaries he had no conception. He loved all the human race; he bore a. particular love to all Christians; and he wished all parties to exercise Christian charity towards each other. The church of England he held in high veneration, and was also attached to the church of Scotland in which he had been educated; he knew that, in respect of doctrine, the principles of both are the same; and, as to the different forms of ecclesiastical discipline and worship, he did not think he had any right to affect singularity, or to molest the peace of either church by clamouring about matters of no essential importance. He wished to be, and to be considered as, a CHRISTIAN: a title, which he thought infinitely more honourable than The words Lutheran and Calvinist he well understood, but set no any other. value on them; though he was ever ready to own his obligations to those

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those learned men who had been instrumental in bringing about the reformation from popery.

• Of modern divines his greatest favourite was Dr. Clarke. He studied all that author's works with his usual accuracy, and with much delight. Even the controversy with Dodwell he studied; for he thought it strictly connected with what Baxter and others had taught concerning the incorporeal nature of the soul: a doctrine, of which he was a zealous defender; which he had examined as far, I believe, as human ingenuity can examine it; and on which he has left a great deal in writing, though nothing finished.

I spoke of his playfulness. In conversation with his particular friends he would display an amazing exuberance of pleasantry and humour. His knowledge of nature and extensive learning, supplied him with innumerable images; and his lively fancy, aided by simplicity of diction and a ready eloquence, enabled him to combine them into the most diverting forms that could be imagined. He had, what perhaps all people of observation have, a slight tendency to satire but it was of the gentlest kind; he had too much candour and good nature to be either a general satirist or a severe one. That taunting, gibing, raillery, which some people, who mistake ill-nature for wit, are so fond of, he despised and hated: he often, as his duty required, spoke in order to improve and amend others; but never uttered a word with a view to give pain.'

Of the classical attainments of Mr. Beattie, and of his acquirements in almost every branch of knowlege, the Doctor speaks in the strongest terms. Of his poetical and literary talents, the essays and fragments before us are favourable specimens; and they are also intitled to every allowance which candid criticism can afford, as they were written at an early age, and as most of them are now published without having been revised or corrected by the author. The English poems, particularly the serious compositions, contain strong indications of a poetical genius; and they display, to use Dr. Beattie's own words, an energy of expression, a vivacity of description, and an apposite variety of numbers,' far beyond the years of the author.-The following lines, on the death of Mr. Valentine, shew that in poetical talents "young Edwin was no vulgar boy:"

Ye clouds that in tempestuous grandeur driven
Involve in twilight gloom the noon day heaven;
Ye torrents, down these craggy cliffs that roar :
Ye murmurs hoarse, that sweep the pebbly shore;
Ye winds that whistle, and ye waves that roll;
Well do ye suit the sadness of my soul.

* Several passages of this Preface I have found, copied, and without acknowledgement applied to another person. See Anderson's Edition of British Poets, quoted in the Monthly Review for September 1798, page 18, &c.'

Yes,

Yes, ye rude rocks, the lingering sounds return,
Ye woods, wave high your hoary heads, and mourn,
And howl, ye melancholy gales, along,
Wafting the wild notes of funereal song.

Yet, why for him attune funereal lays,
Him deaf to mortal plaint, and mortal praise;
Safe, where no perils threat, no anguish stings,
But Peace for ever spreads triumphant wings!
Where hosts of Seraphim hosannas raise,

And worlds to worlds resound their Maker's praise;
Where sorrow, toil, and care, in rapture drown'd,
Heaven's everlasting splendour blazes round.
The virtuous man, who nobly yields his breath,
Requires not sorrow, but exults in death:
Crown'd with fair fame the patriot hero's bier
Disclaims the tribute of a tender tear.

• Let tender tears embalm the gentle maid,
In the gay morn of life whose beauties fade:
Oft at her tomb the village train be seen,
To deck with wreathes of freshest flower the green.
There let the nightingale along the grove,
At the lone midnight hour lament her love;
The snow drop there a sickly blossom shed,
The lily languishingly hang the head;
And there the lay of wo her doom deplore,

Who bloom'd, and smiled, and charm'd, and is no more.
But other musick to thy grave be born,
And trophies different far thy turf adorn.
There let the oak in majesty arise,
Its giant arms wide-waving in the skies;
Fated perhaps with Britain's flag to shine,
And future heroes bear to deeds like thine.
That mount, where thy remains in honour sleep,
Amid the murmur of th' encircling deep,
Thy friends, who still the patriot ardour share,
Shall visit, and shall love to linger there;
Heave, in ecstatick tears, affection's sigh,
And wish like thee to live, like thee to die;
Like thee, from discontent secure and strife,
To flourish through the vernal years of life;
Then ripe in glory sink into the grave,
Mourn'd by the good, and envy'd by the brave.
• Full often, when at length are past away
The languid moments of the lonely day,
And night a welcome change of scene supplies,
Spreading her sparkling mantle o'er the skies,
In sleep I see the elements engage,

And hear the winds howl, and the waters rage.
-That solitary bark contends in vain,
Toss'd in th' infuriate uproar of the main,

RaY. SEPT. 1800.

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