itential discipline, till it wielded its last terrific power of branding and burning in this world and the next, by excommunication. The observations, with which Mr. Milman sums up this review of ancient ecclesiastical aggrandizement, are truly eloquent. The circumstances of the times, the consecrated purpose of the master minds who planned such a gigantic and complete structure, he justly adduces as mitigating the censure of the beginning of that, the end of which has been mournful. Let the oil of charity be poured over these waters of bitterness; for, after all, it would be utterly impossible for us to imagine a picture dark enough to represent what would have been the state of the world at the breaking up of the Roman empire, had it not been for the Catholic Church. In place of the public spectacles of heathenism, to which the people had been wont to look for excitement and recreation, the Church at first invested with august ceremony its sacred rites, baptism, the Lord's Supper, funerals, and the festivals in honor of the martyrs. For a time these sufficed, but the people soon demanded something more. The gymnasium, the theatre and amphitheatre, and the chariot-race in the circus were revived; perhaps they never died out. The Christian literature of this period does indeed require a peculiar taste to relish it. Yet it has its interest, and in truth it may be said, its charms. A new language, or a great modification of an old language, was needed, for the expression of Christian sentiments and duties. The religion itself was poetry, and soon it inspired its bards and its musicians. The amazing credulity which prevailed gave birth to legends, the lives of saints, and even to spurious gospels and epistles. The histories of the time lack integrity, as they were written on the avowed canon of concealing all which would reflect dishonor on the faith; a canon, however, which the writers seem to have been either too honest or too simple always to observe. The controversial literature of the apologies, commentaries, expositions of faith and Scripture, and orations, have a value in the history of the human mind. They may be slightingly spoken of, but they furnish more modern material than most persons may be aware. In the fine arts, likewise, Christianity was obliged to await the re-awakening of the human mind, and to form for itself images and ideas of its own. The results of its long and successful labor, the beautiful relics of its own architecture, sculp ture, and painting, are now the admiration of the world. "The substitution of mental expression for merely corporeal beauty is the characteristic distinction between Christian and heathen art. How deeply the Church felt the obligation of consecrating every influence which might reach the heart, how thoroughly it pervaded the business and pleasure of life with its symbols, by the road-side and on the mountain top, the whole of Western Christendom now bears witness. True, superstition and a very coarse taste mingled with the first efforts of Christian art, and no little deception was practised in leading the populace to worship the dark and misshapen pictures, ascribed to the apostolic age, and in some instances to St. Luke himself. But the perfection of Italian genius succeeded in elevating the labors of art, and at least, in making a beautiful representation of a beautiful subject. In conclusion, Mr. Milman just glances at the topics, which will engage his attention in the continuation of his history. Our Protestant prejudices against the faith and discipline of the Roman Church, during the middle ages, need no strengthening, nor will the author indulge himself in harsh censures, or severe epithets. This mode of reasoning has been too long prevalent, and it has failed of its object. Catholicism has not been so overawed, that it will no longer attempt to vindicate its doctrine, or to justify its departure from primitive truth and simplicity, under the plea of concessions to a barbarous and unsettled age. The abuses of the Church, its divorce of religion and morality, its substitution of ceremony for instruction, its exaltation of implicit faith above the labor and freedom of individual conviction, have not been left to the animadversion of Protestants alone. There was always, in the Catholic Church, a feeble desire of reforming and purifying herself. Jovinian and Vigilantius, premature Protestants, resolutely opposed the early perversions of Christianity, questioning celibacy, martyrs' relics, and miracles, the lighting of lamps in processions, and on the altars, &c., and this in the very face of the great champion, Jerome. Christianity thus levelled to the capacity of an illiterate priesthood, prepared itself, with its formal creed, and its splendid ritual, for the long and deep obscurity, the warlike struggles, and the feudal institutions of the dark ages. It worked upon the surface, and beneath the deepest currents of society. It preserved the little light which glimmered in Europe, in its own VOL. XXIX. 3D S. VOL. XI. NO. II. 26 cloisters. It cherished for a better day the great principles of love and duty. Armed with the might of its own truth, and with the weapons which it had forged for itself, and wrenched from its enemies, it entered boldly upon a contest, through which nothing false or weak could pass, and live. How does the truth, the character, and the influence of Christianity appear upon these early pages of its history? The question has an interest, which belongs to no other question in the annals of the world. It is deep enough to fill and satisfy a whole life. G. E. E. ART. IV. Account of the Life and Writings of Thomas Brown, M. D., late Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. By the Rev. DAVID WELSH, Minister of Cross-Michael. Edinburgh. pp. 525. It is somewhat remarkable, that of an individual, who by his station in a distinguished university and his writings attracted for a season no inconsiderable attention, we find scarcely any notices in the journals of his time. His poetical works, which were too numerous for his fame, were for the most part it is true, anonymous. Some of them fell abortive from the press, while of some others it must be said, that they obtained more notice than praise. It was a subject of regret with his friends, and not without some reproach from his enemies, that one filling so conspicuous a place in the university, the colleague and successor of Dugald Stewart, should have devoted so much of his time to poetry; and even in this department, in which he seemed strangely to covet distinction, more than in any other, "his fate," says his biographer," has been singular, and, during his own life-time, hard. Though it was never disputed, that he had first-rate talents, none of his works, while he was yet alive, ever attained any great popularity; and in the reviews of the day, the name of Dr. Brown is almost the only one of any celebrity, that is never to be found." In vindicating the professional character of his friend, Mr. Welsh has evidently indulged throughout these Memoirs his personal partialities; but, with all due allowance for this pardonable infirmity, no one can read his biography without finding, in its accomplished subject, a distinguished scholar, a subtle metaphysician, and one of singular gentleness of temper, and unexceptionable life. Dr. Thomas Brown was the son of the Rev. Samuel Brown, a minister of the Church of Scotland, and born at the manse of Hirknabreck, in 1778. The family, from which he was descended, was remarkable, as he was himself, for the cheerfulness and benevolence of their temper. His mother, some of whose ancestors appear with honor among those, who were banished from Scotland on account of their adherence to the covenant, is represented as a woman of great elegance and gentleness of manners, and exemplary in her devotion to domestic duties. Dr. Brown was the youngest of thirteen children, and awakened, even from his infancy, a peculiar interest in his parents. When his father was on his death-bed, and saw his wife in tears, he drew this child towards him, and patting his head, said, "Remember that I have told you, that this little fellow will be a blessing to you when I am gone." And assuredly, in his filial affection and reverence, the assiduous attentions he at no period failed of paying her, and in the gratification of her maternal pride in witnessing, as she lived to do, his professional fame, the prediction was well fulfilled. Per Dr. Brown received the first rudiments of his education in Edinburgh, whither his family removed, soon after the death of his father. His education there was entirely domestic, and, for three or four years, his only instructer was his mother. haps to this circumstance may be ascribed the gentleness, even feminine, which marked his manners, and which, with strangers, did not wholly escape the charge of affectation. In the middle of his seventh year, he was removed to London, under the protection of his maternal uncle, Captain Smith, who was then resident in that city, and placed in school, first in Camberwell, and afterwards at Chiswick. Here he early attracted attention by the precocity of his attainments, and, for the gayety of his temper, was known by the name of " the little laugher." His appearance, also, was so engaging, that many of the relations of his fellow-pupils, who lived near the metropolis, used at the examinations previous to the holidays to crowd about him and invite him to spend the vacations with them, supposing that as he was from Scotland, he might otherwise have to remain at school. Of the friends, whom his manners and appearance thus early acquired for him, was the family of the Grahams, for the mother of whom, Mrs. Elizabeth Graham, herself a person of high literary accomplishments, and one of the first to discover and encourage the aspirings of his early genius, he entertained an almost filial affection. The influence she exerted on his character, and the delight he enjoyed in her society, he gratefully described in one of his happiest poetical efforts. The time he spent in the house of this lady, he regarded as one of the most interesting periods of his life. He found there a very beautiful and accomplished young lady, whose death, a few years after, produced an effect upon his feelings, that was never obliterated. And the sensations, which he experienced, when, upon revisiting this cherished spot, but a little before his own death, he found the occupants of the dwelling gone, the kind mistress of it, his patron and friend, herself having died, are embodied in a short poem, which, as his biographer justly observes, “will, in intensity of feeling and fidelity of painting, remind the reader of Cowper's beautiful lines on receiving his mother's picture." That his emotions were real, and, what is rare in subjects of poetical description, stronger than the representation, may be inferred from the fact, that at the sight of the deserted house, he was altogether overpowered, and fainted away. We copy a few of the stanzas. "This is the dwelling. Oft, in boyish sport, Still sure within that cheerful room to find Kind eyes, kind voices, and, O! hearts more kind. "This is the dwelling; but the look, the tone, 66 The heart that gave the gladness, — all are flown. Lodge of the stranger; yet, tho' steps unknown p. 14. |