their consciences. M. Was there not | barber's shop and public-house. some reason in this? Ph. His op- | will not repeat all his observations, ponents did not think so, for they Marcolphus, but I will assure you, he vociferated in reply with all their shewed very little respect to any of might, especially Bernardin and Vin- these reverend men; nor did he mani cent, the Dominican. fest any intention of concluding his observations, when George beckoned with his hand, and signified, that he had somewhat to say. He earnestly entreated them to cease their strife; and then decided, that he would make his confession to the priest. Then for tolling the bell, singing at the funeral, the monument, and all the other expenses of the obsequies, he fore he left the house; so that, said he to the priest, you shall have no reason to complain of me. M. What did they allege? Ph. They abused the priest in the most dreadful manner, calling him an ass, and more worthy to be a swineherd, than a pastor of a flock. I, said Vin'cent, am a bachelor of divinity, and expect soon to be a licentiate, and to receive the degree of doctor. You, who can scarcely read the New Tes tament, are a pretty fellow to ex-promised that he should be paid be amine the secrets of the conscience. If you are desirous of examining into any thing, try to discover the pranks of your whore and bastards at home. This, bad as it is, was the best of it; for some of his language I am ashamed to repeat. M. Was he silent under this reproach? Ph. Silent as a pig hung in a gate. I, retorted he, would make a better bachelor out of a fag got of bean stalks. Dominic and Francis, the founders of your orders, where did they learn the philosophy of Aristotle, the logic of Thomas, or the speculations of Scotus? Where did they obtain the title of bachelor? When few and humble, you crept into a credulous world; a few that are learned and pious, have found an asylum in country villages; but the great body of your orders have been glad to quit these retired places; to fix your résidence in cities, among the rich' and great. You might be of some use in country places, that cannot support a pastor; but, no, these not rich enough for the professors of poverty. You vaunt the episcopal name; but your boasted privileges only tend to destroy the authority of the bishop, priest, and curate. I, however, will take care that none of you shall preach in my church whilst I live. I am not a bachelor, neither was St. Martin, and yet he was a bishop. If I am unlearned, I will not come to you to be taught. Do you think the world so stupid as to imagine, that the sanctity of Francis or Dominic is to be found in all that wear their dress? What concern have you with my household affairs? The very common people know what is your conduct in your dens; and your familiarities with the nuns are no secrets. It is the talk of every are M. Could the priest refuse such honourable terms? Ph. No. He only hinted something about the confes sion, which he excused from the sick man; for, said he, what need is there to fatigue both the sick and myself with a repetition of the same things? If he had confessed to me at first, his will might have been better ordered; now you will see. But this moderation of the sick man was by no means relished by the monks, who were very indignant at the idea, that the priest would be a sharer in the gain. My entreaties at last prevailed in obtaining some degree of peace. The priest performed the ceremonies of extreme unction and the eucharist, and departed with his fee. M. And so the tempest was succeeded by a calm? Ph. Yes, indeed, but only to be sueceeded by a tempest still more severe. M. How so? Ph. You shall hear. The four orders of mendicant friars had occupied the house in consider able numbers; to these was added a fifth, denominated cross bearers. This, in the estimation of the others, is a bastard order, and they rose up against them with one consent. They demanded, if any one had ever seen a cart with five wheels; and how there could be more orders of mendicants than there were evangelists? They might just as well bring hither all the beggars that could be collected from the highways and hedges. M. What reply did the cross-bearers make to this? Ph. In their turn, they demanded how the chariot of the church went onward, when there was no order of mendicants, and afterwards, when there was but one; and subsequently, when no more than three? As for the evangelists, they said their number had no more to do with the orders of monks, than with a gamester's die, which is furnished with four angles. Who placed the monks of St. Augustin in the order of mendicants? and who the Carmelites? Did ever St. Augustin, or Elias, beg? for these they consider the founders of their orders. This, and much more, they thundered out with all their might, with the addition of dreadful threats. M. And so peace was at last obtained? Ph. The alliance which had been formed by the four orders against the fifth, was now converted into an indiscriminate contest. The Franciscans and the Dominicans contended, that neither the Austin friars, nor the Carmelites, were true mendicants; at the best, they were but a mongrel race. This contention rose to such a height, that I had serious apprehensions of their employing the fist, as well as the tongue, to, settle it. M. How did the sick man bear all this? Ph. This did not take place near the bed, but in an adjoining room: their voices, however, were easily to be distinguished; for what they said, was uttered with the utmost vehemence, and the sick man, though near death, was remarkably quick of hearing, M. What was the final issue of the contest? Ph. The sick man requested his wife to procure silence, and then he would endeavour to settle the dispute. He entreated the Austinians and Carmelites to go home, assuring them, that they should lose nothing by their absence; for that they should have the same quantity of provisions sent to them, as those were to have who remained. He commanded, that the whole five orders should attend the funeral, and that they should divide the money that was to be given away, equally between them; but they were not to be invited to the funeral dinner, for the sake of quietness. M. It is a proof of admirable skill, that even in the agonies of death, he was able to order matters so wisely. Ph. He commanded an army for several years, and therefore was well versed in the art of stilling an uproar. M. I suppose then, his worldly circumstances were splendid? Ph. Yes. M. But badly obtained; by rapine, sacrilege, and extortion. Ph. Commanders of armies too often act thus; and I will not venture to swear, that he was never guilty in these respects. Nevertheless, I have reason to believe, that his property was accumulated rather by skilful management, than by absolute, violence. M. How so? Ph. He was well versed in arithmetic. M. What had that to do with it? Ph. Oh, a great deal. He returned a muster-roll of thirty thousand men, when the number was scarcely so many as seven; then the names of many that were present were omitted in the list. M. This was excellent arithmetic indeed! Ph. Then he employed a wonderful deal of art in the management of the war. He stipulated for a monthly stipend from the towns and villages both of friends and enemies: from enemies, to protect them from the effects of hostilities; and from friends, for permission to trade with the enemy. M. I know this is a common custom among military men; but go on with your story. Ph. Bernardin and Vincent, and some of their companions, remained with the sick man; a portion of meat was sent to the others. M. Did those who retained possession of the castle continue to agree? Ph. Not altogether. They muttered something about the privileges of a diploma; but lest there should not be a proper finish to the story, it was dissembled. The testamentary papers were then produced, and the injunctions properly completed in the presence of witnesses, according to the manner before resolved on. M, I rejoice to hear this. Ph. The remainder of the narrative must be comprised in a few words; for the story is a long one. The wife survives; her age is about thirty-eight, a prudent and excellent woman; and also two sons, one of them nineteen years old, the other fifteen; the two daughters are still younger. It is provided in the will, that the wife, as she could not be prevailed on to become a nun, should be a beguine, which is an intermediate order between the nuns and the laity. The eldest son, because he could not be prevailed on to become a monk, (M. Old birds are not to be caught with chaff,) Ph. Immediately after his father's funeral, was to go to Rome, and there, taking advantage of the laxity of discipline at the seat of pontifical authority, was to be ordained a priest before the proper age; after this, for a whole year, he was to perform mass every day in the Vatican for the soul of his father; and on every Friday he must creep on his knees over all the steps in the church. The younger son was dedicated to St. Francis, the eldest daughter to St. Clara, the younger to St. Catharine; for it was the wish of George, as a means of averting the anger of God from himself, to divide his family among the five orders of mendicants; and though their obstinacy prevented the full accomplishment of his intention, he yet made as near an advance to it as he could. It must be confessed, that he spared neither frowns nor smiles, in order to prevail on them to consent to the full accomplishment of his wishes. fourth is to be given to the Carthu sians, to purchase a communion of all the good works that shall be performed by the whole order. The remainder of the property, amounting to a twelfth and half, is appointed for distribution among such poor people as Bernardin and Vincent shall judge fit objects of charity. When the will had been read over, it was demanded-George Balearicus, alive and of sound mind, do you approve of this testament, which in time past has been drawn up at your request? He replied, I do approve of it. And is it your present positive and unalterable pleasure? It is.-Do you appoint me, and the bachelor Vincent, executors of this your last will and testament? Such is my wish. He was then desired to affix his subscription. M. How could a dying man do this? Ph. Bernardin guided his hand. M. What was the sub scription? Ph. May St. Francis and St. Dominic pour out this fury on all that shall attempt to change any part of this my last will and testament. M. But were they not afraid of being questioned for such an offensive will? Ph. No harm can arise to those who are dedicated to God, nor will any one be forward to go to law with the Deity. When this business was gone through, the wife and children shook hands with the sick man, and solemnly promised to observe what he had commanded. The next thing was, to arrange the plan of the funeral, which again gave rise to much disputing. At last, however, it was agreed, that nine persons out of each of the five orders of monks should attend, in honour of the five books of Moses, and of the nine choirs of angels; that each order should bear its own cross, singing the funeral psalms. M. Such a will as this goes very near to the disinheriting of his children. Ph. The whole inheritance was so divided, that, after deducting the charges of the funeral, one-twelfth part of the remainder is to go to the wife, of which half must provide her board, the other half is to be appropriated to the use of the house where she shall take up her residence. If, from a change in her mind, she shall quit the community, this money must remain with them. Another twelfth was given to the elder son, who was also to have what was necessary for his journey to Rome, and sufficient to defray the expense of a year's residence in that city, together with the sum that will be necessary to purchase the diploma, to enable him to become a priest before he is of canonical age. If he shall alter his intentions, and refuse to enter into holy orders, his portion must be divided between the Franciscan and Dominican orders. I very much fear, that the latter will be the case; for he seems to hate the very thoughts of taking orders. One sixth of the property is appointed to the monastery, into which the younger son is to enter; and another sixth to the convent in (By R. W., Staple-Inn.) which the two daughters are to be EVERY one fond of metaphysical nuns, with this proviso, that if they inquiries, must peruse the writings of refuse to become nuns, their entire Dugald Stewart with peculiar satis share shall remain with the nuns. faction and delight; and he cannot Bernardin and Vincent have each arise from their perusal, but with a one-twelfth of the property; a twenty-mind improved. For though his re (To be concluded in our next.) 66 and REMARKS ON DUGALD STEWART'S A BELIEF IN THE EXISTENCE OF ITS searches are of the deepest, and his speculations are the most refined, yet does he, amidst the most intricate and abstruse of subjects, pursue his way with as much seeming ease, as if he had discovered the mind's substratum, or knew, by inspiration, the laws which direct its powers. His writings, however, do not merely fill us with admiration of his learning as a philosopher, but they beget in us a high opinion of his bland qualities as a man. They are penned with such candour and calmness, so devoid of all appearance, of envy, and yet so free from the pride of dogmatism, that we are ready to determine, "Here learning has been turned to its proper use, to the softening down the asperities of our nature, and to the cultivating of the kindly feelings of the heart." Possessing, as I do, therefore, this high opinion of the merits of Dugald Stewart, you may suppose the degree of diffidence with which I doubt the truth of any proposition which he has advanced; and you will believe, that had I not been encouraged by the company of many eminent men, and among them, of Dr. Reid, I should not now have ventured to give publicity to an opinion contrary to one of his doctrines. In the third chapter of his excellent work on the philosophy of the human mind, wherein he treats of conception, he has advanced as a position, "That the exercise of imagination is always accompanied with a belief that its objects exist." The reasoning upon which he has advanced it, is to be found in the following passage:" If it were a specifical distinction (says he) between perception and imagination, that the former is always attended with belief, and the latter with none; then the more lively our imagination were of any object, and the more completely the object occupied the attention, the less should we be apt to believe its existence; for it is reasonable to think, that when any of our powers is employed separately from the rest, and there is nothing to withdraw the attention from it, the laws which regulate its operation will be most obvious to our observation, and will be most completely discriminated from those which are characteristic of the other powers of the mind. So very different, however, is the fact, that it is matter of common remark, that when imagination is very lively, we are apt to ascribe to its objects a real existence, as in the case of dreaming, or of madness." As the truth of his proposition seems to depend upon the correctness or incorrectness of this reasoning upon it, I will proceed briefly to offer a few remarks. " His reasoning then resolves, itself into this conditional syllogism, "That if imagination be not always attended with belief, then the more lively our imagination is of any object, and the more completely that object occupies the attention, the less shall we be apt to believe in its existence. But this is not found by experience to be the fact, (instance the case of dreaming.) Therefore, imagination is always accompanied with belief. Taking for granted, that the relation between the antecedent and the consequent of this syllogism is true and real, let us see how far the ease of dreaming, which he has cited, goes to the removing of the consequent. Dreams may be defined to be, the thoughts which pass through the mind while we are in a state of sleep. We are said to be in a state of sleep, (according to Dugald Stewart,) when "the will loses its influence over those faculties of the mind, and those members of the body, which, during our waking hours, are subject to its influence." This he affirms of sleep generally, without making the state of dreaming an exception to it, so that it will follow, as a natural consequence, if the exercise of imagination be a voluntary operation of the mind, that it is suspended during the whole time we are in a state of sleep; and that the case of dreaming does not bear upon the present question. The mind is a combination of pow ers, which are, in the first instance, furnished with materials upon which to operate, principally, if not altogether, by the senses; but which afterwards obtain others for themselves, by noticing their own operations. These, however, being once acquired, a continued current of thoughts is thenceforward kept up through the mind, independently of the will, by means of certain laws of our nature, called the association of ideas. It is, therefore, of this class of thoughts which depends upon the association of our ideas, that our dreams alone terms distinct, that I attribute the error into which I think the Doctor has, in this instance, fallen. For it will be easily perceived, that as the simple power of conception operates involuntarily, it is exercised during sleep. And, therefore, if imagination and conception were synonymous terms, that all my reasoning against his position, founded upon the dependency of the imagination on the will, would fall to the ground. consist. But the exercise of the It is to this want of care, therefore, imagination, requiring an actual effort | in keeping the meaning of these two of the mind, cannot be ranked among these involuntary operations. For, to use the words of Dugald Stewart, "it is not a simple faculty of the mind. It presupposes abstraction, to separate from each other, qualities and circumstances which have been perceived in conjunction; and also judgment and taste, to direct us in forming the combinations." And, in another place, he makes a direct contrast between these two operations of the mind. "As far (says he) as the association of ideas operates in heightening pleasure or pain, the mind is passive; and, accordingly, where such associations are a source of inconvenience, they are seldom to be cured by an effort of our volition, or even by reasoning, but by the gradual formation of contrary associations. Imagination is an active exertion of the mind; and although it may often be difficult to restrain it, it is plainly distinguishable in theory, from the associations now mentioned." The exercise of the imagination therefore, not depending upon the laws which regulate the association of our ideas, that is, not being an involuntary operation of the mind, is not called into action during the time we are in a state of sleep, and consequently, the case of dreaming does not bear upon the present question. I stated, at the commencement of these remarks, that I think a clear simplicity of thought is one of the great characteristics of Dugald Stewart's genius. In the chapter, however, now before us, he seems for one moment to have laid it aside, for the sake of establishing an hypothesis. For though he has defined conception to be, that power of the mind which enables it to form a notion of an absent object of perception, or of a sensation which it has formerly felt," and imagination, "the power of modifying our conceptions, by combining the parts of different ones together, so as to form new wholes of our own creation;" yet does he afterwards, when discussing the question, as to the belief which accompanies the exercise of the imagination, notwithstanding the essential difference in the two definitions, use the two terms for which they stand, as perfectly synonymous. No. 65.-VOL. VI, But allowing, for the sake of argument, that imagination and conception were synonymous terms, yet I should still think his position untenable. For though it would be then clear, that the power of imagination is exerted during the time the mind remains in a state of sleep, yet it would not thence necessarily follow, that its exertion is accompanied with a belief of the existence of its objects. Belief is the result either of the simple comparison of two ideas, or of a train of reasoning; either of which requires a voluntary exertion of the mind. So that before we can come to the conclusion, that the mind "believes" during sleep, we must be of opinion, that the will operates during that state. But as this would be to destroy the very essence of sleep, (according to Dugald Stewart's definition of the term,) we are necessarily led to determine, that the judgment is not exercised at all; neither does the mind believe, or disbelieve, during the time we are in a state of sleep; but that all the thoughts which exist in it form but a train of simple conceptions, governed by the laws which regulate the association of ideas. If this reasoning be correct, I think I have, by shewing that the case of dreaming does not assist the Doctor in removing the consequent of his syllogism, thus far proved his proposition, "That the exercise of the power of imagination is always accompanied with a belief, that its objects exist," to be untrue. I will now, therefore, proceed briefly to notice the case of madness, which he has likewise adduced in support of it. By referring to the Doctor's reasoning, which I have already quoted, it will be immediately perceived, that the case of madness can only ass 2 E |