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composed of an equal number of Spaniards, Walloons, and Germans, to the ille of Philipsand.' Then having ordered d'Avila to attend him with the fleet, on board which he put one half of these forces, he gave the command of the other half, destined to attempt the pallage, to Osorio d'Ulloa, a Spanish officer of distinguished courage, who had warmly exhorted him to undertake this bold and fingular expedition,
* On the 28th of September, as soon as it was dark, and the tide had began to retire, Ulloa entered the water at the head of his troops, with the guides before him. The troops were followed by two hundred pioneers; and the rear-guard was formed by a company of Walloons, commanded by an officer of the name of Peralta. They could march only three men a-breast, on the top of a ridge of earth or sand, and were often obliged to wade up to the shoulders, and to bear their muskets on their heads, to preserve them from the water. They had advanced but a little way, when the Dutch and Zealanders approached, and began a furious difcharge of their finall arms and are tillery. And not satisfied with this, many of them leaped into the water, and with hooks fastened to the ends of long poles, laid hold of by the soldiers, oppresled with the weight of the element through which they toiled ; mallacring fome, and plunging others in the waves. Nothing but the darkness of the night, which prevented the two squadrons of the enemy's ships from acteng in concert, could have saved the royalists froin destruction. But, notwithstanding the difficulties under which they laboured, they perfifted bold and daunte less in their course, exhorting and assisting one another; and without quitting their ranks, repelling the enemy, and defending themselves as well as their defperate circumstances would allow. Their calamities increased as they approached to the opposite shore. For, belides that their vigour was impared, they had deeper water to pass, and the enemy's Chips could come nearer to the ford. At last, howerer, they reached the land, in time to save themselves from destruction. The banks were lined with a numerous boly of troops ; and if these troops had behaved with an ordinary degree of resolution, it is impollible that the Spaniards, drenched as they were with mud and water, and exhausted with fatigue, could have stood before them. But unfortunately, in the beginning of the attack, their commander was killed, by an accidental shot of one of his own men. Coníternation seized his troops, and they fed, in the most dastardly manner, before an enemy unable to pursue.
“ This extraordinary adventure, though it succeeded beyond what could justly, have been expected, was not executed without loss. The pioneers were all either overtaken by the tide, or destroyed by the enemy. The rear-guard under Peralta saved themselves by returning back. Of the troops under Ulloa, a considerable number were killed or drowned, and others wounded. But among the killed there was only one person of distinction, named Pacheco; concerning whom it is recorded, that being wounded by a mulket-hot, and unable to advance, and some of his men urging him to suffer them to bear · him on their shoulders; he replied, " That would serve only to retard your march. My wound is mortal; I die, and not without loide VOL. V.
honour in fo glorious an enterprize.” Saying this, he funk dort into the water."
Of our author's talent for drawing characters, the fashionable practice of inodern historians, we shall give a specimen in that which he has delineated, at the close of his history of the Hero of it.
" No character was ever drawn by different historians in more oppofi'e colours than that of Philip; and yet, considering the length and activity of his reign, there is none which it should seem would be more easy to ascertain. From the facts recorded in the preceding history, we cannot doubt that he poflefled in an eminent degree, penetration, vigilance, and a capacity for government. His eyes were continually open upon every part of his extensive dominions. He entered into every branch of administration; watched over the conduct of his minifters with unwearied attention; and, in his choice both of them and of his generals, discovered a considerable share of fagacity. He had at all times a composed and settled countenance, and never appeared to be either elated or deprefied. His temper was the most imperious, and his looks and demeanour were haughty and fevere ; yet among his Spanish subjects, he was of easy access ; lile tened patiently to their representations and complaints ; and where his ambition and bigotry did not interfere, was generally willing to redress their grievances. When we have said thus much in his praise, we have said all that justice requires, or truth permits. It is indeed impossible to suppose that he was infincere in his zeal for religion. But as his religion was of the molt corrupt kind, it served to increase the natural depravity of his disposition; and not only allowed, but even prompted him to comunit the most odious and shocking crimes, although a prince in the bigoted age of Philip might be perfuaded, that the intereit of religion would be advanced by falfehood and persecution; yet it might be expected, that, in a virtuous prince, the fentiments of honour and humanity would, on some occasions, triumph over the dictates of superitition : but of his triumph, there occurs not a fingle instance in the reign of Philip; who, without hesitation, violated his most facred obligations as ofien as religion afforded him a pretence; and under that pretence exercised for many years the moit unrelenting cruelty, without reluctance or remorie. His ambition, which was exorbitant, his relentinent, which was implacable, his arbitrary temper, which would submit to no controul, concurred with his bigoted zeal for the catholic religion, and carried the fanguinary spirit, which that religion was calculated to inspire, to a greater height in Philip, than it ever attained in any other prince of that or of any former fucceeding age.
" Some historians have distinguished this prince by the title of Pliilip the prudent, and have reprelented him is the wifett, as well - 29 the most religious prince that evet filled the Spanish throne. But it is questionable, whether he be entitled to praise on account of his prudence, any more than on aecount of his religion. In the beginning of his reign, be discovered great caution in his military emterprites; and on fone occalions, inade even greater preparations that :. .. 4
were necessary to insure success. But his ambition, his resentment, and his abhorrence of the protestants, were too violent to suffer him to act conformably to the dictates of found policy and prudence. He Inight have prevented the revolt of his Dutch and Flemish subjects, if after the reformation in the Netherlands was suppressed by the dutchess of Parma, he had left the reins of government in the hands of that wile princess, and had not sent so odious a tyrant as the duke of Alva to enllave them. He might, after the defeat of the prince of Orange, have riveted the chains of Navery about their necks, and gradually accustomed thein to the yoke, if, by engaging in too many expensive enterprizes, he had not exhausted his exchequer, and made it in some measure neceffary for Alva to impose the taxes of the tenth and twentieth pennies, for the maintenance of his troops. He might, through the great abilities of the duke of Parma, have again reduced the revolted provinces to obedience, if he had not conceived the wild ambition of subduing England, and acquiring the sovereignty of France. His armies, in the latter part of his reign, were never sufficiently numerous to execute the various enterprizes which he undertook ; yet they were much more numerous than he was able to support. Few years pafled in which they did not mutiny for want of pay. And Philip suffered greater prejudice from the disorders and devastation which his own troops committed, than he ever received from the arms of his enemies. Against his attempts on England and France, his wiseft counsellor remonftrated in the strongest terins. And prudence certainly required, that, previously to any attack upon the
dominions of others, he should have secured poffeffion of his own. - Yet so great was his illusion, that rather than delay the execution of those schemes which his resentment and ambition had suggested, he chose to run the risk of losing the fruits of all the victories which the duke of Parma had obtained; and, having left defenceless the * provinces which had submitted to his authority, he thereby afforded
an opportunity to the revolted provinces, of establishing their power, 'on fo firm a foundation, as the whole itrength of the Spanish mo'narchy, exerted against them for more than fifty years, was unable to overturo *.
To this history is added an Appendix, containing an abstract of the Prince of Orange's famous Apology, in which are many interesting anecdotes of the private life and character of Philip: but for these we must refer the curious reader to. the work itself,
* We have in this last sentence, an instance of those little defects, in point of language, which have sometimes escaped our author. Instead of using as he should have used that, and added it to the end of the sentence: for he certainly meant overturn the power, and not overturn the foundation. The latter part of the sentence should therefore run thus" of establithing their power on fo firm a foundation, that the whole strength of the Spanish monarchy was unable to overturn it. Rev
Letters on Materialism and Hartley's Theory of the Human Mind,
addressed to Dr. Priestley, F. R. S. 8vo. 25, 6d. Robinson.
This publication has been so little advertised (if at all) in the London papers, that, not receiving, as is customary, a printed copy from the author, we were actually ignorant of its appearance, till we received the following letter on the subject.
'« To the LONDON REVIEWERS. Gentlemen, Having in vain expected, for some monthis paft, to see your animadversions on a late publication, entitled, Letters on Materialism, addressed to Dr. Priestley; in which my letter to you, in defence of that gentleman *, is moft terribly handled, I can no longer refrain from taking up the pen to do justice to myself, not doubting, from your experienced impartiality, that you will take the firit opportunity to give a place to this letter as you did to my former. The author of the Letters in queltion addresses Dr. P. in the first of them as follows.
os In consequence of your notion of material fouls advanced in the preliminary currys to Hartley's theory, and of the warın sanction that notion received from the authors of the London Review, you was called to an account by Mr. Seton, who, in a letter addressed to you in that periodical publication, warmly, though modestly, expoftulated with you on its impropriety and evil tendency. It was natural to expect that fo pertinent an address would have rouled your sensibility, and extorted a reply. Nutning of the kind happened; unless we are to consider a letter, which appeared in the same Review of September lait, as really Dr. Prieliley's, and therefore as intended as the only and
bait reply to Mr. Seton's animadversions. 'Till I have it from un· queitionable authority, I will never offer so flagrant an indignity to
your lo juftly admired abilities, as to suppose you the author of it. But as no other answer hath hitherto appeared, nor have you, as your honour required, ever publicly reprobated that triling and infilious prodiction, we are authorized to elicem it yours, or, which nearly announts to the same, to conclude that it came forth under your tutelage and kind protection. In this light I must therefore consider it, and shall with propriety make fome remarks on its contents in the regular course of my correspondence.”
Being the writer of the letter thus formally impeached and condemned', you wll give ine leave, gentlemen, to make my reinarks on the Remarker, and to expose the pretended propriety of his condemuation. In proceeding to do this, let me do Dr. Pricftley the justice to say, that he neither at first knew any thing of such letter, nor does he, I believe, to this day, know any thing of the writer. If his prefent addreiler, howcver, really sinks it so trifling a production, I wonder he * Sec London Review for September 1776.
Dr. De right excuse ompliment
should think Dr. Priestley's honour concerned publickly to reprobate it. If the doctor thought it so trifling, the course he took was certainly the wiseft, viz. that of taking no notice of it. His addresser, indeed, tells us he should have taken the same course too,“ had not that letter been cried up as a metaphysical composition.” Indeed! by whom? Surely not by trifling or incompetent judges! The opinion of such would have been as unworthy notice as the performance itself. No, Sirs, Dr. Priestley's present correspondent would not certainly have thought it worth his while to trouble either the doctor or himself with any criticism upon so trifling a production; however cried up as a master-piece by as trifling readers. It must have been from the high opinion, which some people, who stood also high in his opinion, entertained of my letter, that he was induced to take such trouble.
In return for the compliment of such good opinion, therefore, you will excuse me if I am a little sollicitous to maintain my right to it; notwithstanding the modest assurance of Dr. Priestley's correspondent in declaring, against such respectable authority, that what they deemed a master-piece of metaphysical composition would be otherwise unworthy notice. I am not indeed so vain as to suppose the hafty production of a vacant hour deserving such an encomium ; but I am too tena. cious of the approbation of the judicious to submit silently to the rude reproaches of " writing flagrant nonsense-advancing palpable absurdities,” and broaching “ such puerilities," as the letter-writer“ blushes to repeat." You will soon be able to judge, gentlemen, which of us hath most reason to blush.
" On your recommendation (fays this fagacious hypercritic to Doc. tor Priestley), I have perused Hartley with the greatest attention of which I am capable. I am not even ashamed to say, that I have read hin four times over. I soon perceived he was not ap author to be run over in a few hours, à tête reposée, as the French express it; and as, from the first reading, I had entertained a design of contesting some parts of his fyftem, it was necellary, I well knew, to consider it maturely. I now trust, I can say without vanity, that I understand him thoroughly. In his doctrine of vibrations, and therefore of association, I had been long initiated, from having read a French work, which appeared some years ago (Esai analytique sur les facultés de l'ame), by Mr. Bonnet of Geneva. This ingenious and learned author, so well known in the literary world for his various and elegant productions in the Philosophical walk, sets out on the same principles as Dr. Hartley, but, sensible of their almost infinite extent, if discuiled analytically, only applies them to one of the human fenfes, the smell, and from thence gradually rises, through a series of metaphysical enquiries and observations, to the most intellectual operations. From the same premises, it was natural these philosophers should draw the same interence: they infer that every mental process is a mechanical effect, and therefore that all