THE

CHRISTIAN

REMEMBRANCER.

MAY, 1832.

REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

ART. I.-Conversations on Religion, with Lord Byron and others, held in Cephalonia, a short time previous to his Lordship's Death. By the late JAMES KENNEDY, M. D. of His Majesty's Medical Staff. 8vo. Pp. 461. London: Murray. 1830.

THE qualities of genius are at least as dazzling as they are enlightening. Minds gifted by the Creator with this splendid attribute, are regarded by mankind as emanations of the divinity; and, as such, to be gazed at with awe, and never to be scrutinised without professed veneration. We do not condemn the principle of an enthusiasm which is creditable to human nature, and which is a kind of distant sympathy with the exalted objects of its regard; we should feel small respect for the heart which could maintain an even pulsation in the obscure tenement which gave birth to Shakspeare, or over the unhonoured spot where Gray "rests his head upon the lap of earth:❞—and we neither envy nor praise the bosom which has no answering chord to the great orator's sentiment: "Quum ea loca videmus, in quibus memoriâ dignos viros accepimus multum fuisse versatos, magis movemur, quam si quando eorum ipsorum aut facta audimus, aut scriptum aliquid legimus." But it is certain that this admiration may transgress in a manner which no wise or religious mind can approve. The genius of Milton can win no sanctity for civil bloodshed; nor is the authority of Shakspeare's example (supposing the tradition well grounded) valid in defence of the lawfulness of theft. There is, we are willing to believe, some sympathy between genius and virtue; but the experience of every day attests that this is not so powerful as to be in all instances predominant over the instincts of our fallen nature: yet such is the infatuation of the world, that the splendour which ought to warn us from the errors which it displays, is rather suffered to bewilder our senses, and blind us "with excess of light" to their very existence.

Without attempting a metaphysical investigation of that subtile essence which we name genius, we may, from its external phenomena, deduce some positions which may serve as cautions in defining and regulating the reverence which we owe to it. It is the most striking characteristic of genius that it is single, or nearly so. A man of talent will attain considerable excellence in many things;—a man of genius will compass more or less excellence, according to the proportion in which he enjoys the quality, in a very few. A man of talent will acquire by labour,—a man of genius, comparatively, by intuition. Hence, where genius exists in a high degree, its results astonish ordinary minds, and it is forgotten that poetical excellence, for instance, is no pledge of profundity of thought; and that proficiency in the exact sciences is no warrant for extent of imagination. Yet the almost unrivalled orator of Rome sinks beneath a child in poetry: and when Ovid tells us

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'Sponte suâ carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos,
Et quod tentabam dicere versus erat,"-

we yield him ready credence, and are equally prepared to disbelieve
that he ever could have shone in the forum. Shakspeare would proba-
bly have struggled unsuccessfully against the first book of Euclid, while
Newton could not have drawn one scene of human nature, had the
longitude depended on it. From these reasons, it is evident that the
opinion of a man of genius, instead of being, as is generally the case,
worthy to be courted and revered, is often the very worst that can be
had. The poet feels straitened in the narrow paths of science; the
philosopher regards as so much lost time and impertinence, the vaga-
ries of poetical fancy. Their opinions are only valuable in the line
of their genius; yet how often has this distinction been lost sight of!
We have heard the views of Sir Walter Scott quoted as high autho-
rity on the Popish Question, although a little reflection ought to shew
that they are not really more valuable than those of Lord Eldon on the
romancer's fictions. We are, in like manner, often reminded that New-
ton and Locke were not Trinitarians. If this be true, high as was their
genius, it was not the genius of critical investigation; and therefore
their opinion here is not entitled to the weight of their names. They
introduced into the inquiry elements with which they were conversant,
but which did not belong to it. For the same reason the opinion of
these great men on the genuineness and inspiration of the Scriptures
is valuable because they were still in their own province;
dry question of fact, to be established by cautious induction and
accurate research, was the very material to be subjected to those
patient and persevering minds.

a

The error of permitting the authority of genius to attach itself to opinions, when it is not more, if not less competent, to examine, than

ordinary intellects, has obtained great currency in our day in the instance of Byron. Byron was a genius of a popular order. The grandeur of his conceptions, and the facility with which he converted the stores of nature and literature to his purposes, gained him even an eager ear with the scholar and man of taste. Yet his poetry was such as might be felt where all was not understood; he did not, like Milton, write for the applause only of the man of erudition; he threw off his daring imaginations as they arose, and always, even where the allusions from historical, or other ignorance, were not apparent, in clear though animated language. As Shakspeare was the poet of universal nature, so Byron was that of one province especially, and that the darkest-the passions; and even in this gloomy region he sought the gloomiest paths. Hence, many whose souls have little in common with poetry; many who slumbered at the varied harmony of Spenser the stately and elevated music of Gray-and the gentle, but exquisitely melodious lyre of Beattie, awoke when Byron struck their master chord. The passions are common property; those on which Byron peculiarly delighted to dwell are the inheritance of too many; and thus Byron, between his matter and his manner, obtained for himself, not only a high eminence on the English Parnassus, but a species of fame which has fallen to the lot of few. The names of Milton and Spenser are, indeed, as familiar to the public ear as his own; their writings are not, nor ever will be. Shakspeare, perhaps alone, is his rival in this particular, and for a similar reason; both were poets of nature; one, of her whole empire; the other of its most frequented portion. The notoriety and popularity of Byron have made his opinions the subject of eager inquiry, even where a considerate observer must readily perceive they would be valueless. The infidel has exulted in his ability to rank this illustrious name in his herd; and the "thinking public" have "thought" it something worthy. of consideration, that "so clever a man" was not a Christian.

The qualifications, however, for estimating the great question, "is Christianity true?" are of two kinds, mental and moral; and in both of these Lord Byron was so far from possessing excellence, that he was unusually deficient. A patient, serious, intrepid spirit of investigation, that stumbles at no difficulties, but coolly surmounts them at once, or patiently defers them till more light is brought to bear on their examination; this was so far from an ingredient in the character of Byron, that nothing can be conceived more foreign from his disposition. Again, a paramount desire to attain the truth, and an entire resolution to submit the heart to whatever that truth may prove this most important moral qualification for a true judgment on this inquiry, was not only wholly absent in the present instance, but was actually counteracted by an opposite principle. Byron knew the outline of

Christianity too well to be ignorant that, if received, it must be received at the expense of almost all the first pleasures of his life; he was, therefore, actuated by the most powerful of human prejudices in rejecting what could only be attained at so severe a cost. To sum the matter; it is directly proved, even by the work before us, and on Byron's own confession, that HE HAD NOT EXAMINED THE SUBJECT; SO that, granting his natural competency to have been as great as we please to assume, the fact that it was never exerted on this question is sufficient to convict Byron of presumptuous ignorance, and utterly to negative the value of his opinions on Christianity.

Yet we do not say that the nature of Byron's religious views is an uninteresting inquiry. From the morbid anatomy of the infidel heart we may often derive precepts of spiritual salubrity. The connexion of that disease with ignorance and vice, which examination opens to us, corrects the idea that it has any affinity with genius, and sets us on our guard against the malady and the causes. Hence we took up Dr. Kennedy's book, as not only calculated to interest the public from the value ordinarily attached to the opinions of genius, but as likely to interest ourselves also from the light which it might be expected to throw, on the general subject of religious obliquities. We are sorry to say we have been disappointed. Dr. Kennedy was mild, amiable, and pious; he appears to have been influenced by no petty ambition of making a noble and talented proselyte; there is every reason to believe that his desire of converting his distinguished friend was pure and Christian; but he was not the man to succeed with so impetuous and so brilliant an antagonist. He was, moreover, a Calvinist; the worst possible denomination of the Christian world for converting unbelievers: and his Calvinism was his Christianity, and never allowed a moment's disguise. The evidences of Christianity, in his eye, are generally confounded with an apology for Calvin.

Dr. Kennedy's work appears to some disadvantage; as it is posthumous. But though not designed for the press precisely in its present form, there is no doubt that it is published nearly as the author intended to give it to the world. The origin of it, as related by the doctor himself, will shew that nothing very methodical could be expected.

It happened about this time that four friends spent an evening with me; they were all from Scotland, as I am myself, and all, except one, belonged to the learned professions; they were men of liberal education, and respectable talents. The conversation happening to turn on religion, I was surprised to hear the whole of them express free and deistical sentiments; some of them, perhaps, from bravado, and some from apparent conviction. I remarked, "that it was a curious circumstance to find in one company, four men, natives of a country so much praised for religion, who entertained such opinions." One of them, in return, expressed his surprise, that I, who appeared to be of a cool

and steady judgment, could believe in Christianity. "If we had you," he continued, " among us for a short time, we would soon re-convert you to our opinions." I said, "that I believed this was impossible, as Christianity appeared to me to rest on such a mass of evidence, as to be capable of the most rigid logical demonstration, and that, consequently, every cool and steady man who examined it, must believe it. And so far," added I, “from being re-converted to your opinion; I might venture to say, that if I had you all for any length of time with me, I should be able, I trust, to convert you to my own." After some further conversation, they said they would like to hear me explain my reasons for believing in Christianity. I said, "that I would at any time be ready to gratify them, on condition that I should be allowed to speak at least twelve hours, at different intervals, without their interrupting by proposing any objections. The reason why I made this stipulation was, because I believed them to be so ignorant of the nature of the Christian doctrines, that this time would be requisite to convey to them an accurate idea of those principles, and of the evidence on which they were founded. This arrangement," I said, "would be attended with this advantage, that they would gain some information, whatever might be the ultimate result of our meetings, and many of those objections which appeared to them altogether insurmountable, would, if they were candid, vanish, when they knew the doctrines which Christians really believe, and the reasons for them; which are very different from the idea which unbelievers form for themselves." After explaining, therefore, what those doctrines were; when they would appear not to be so strange and unreasonable as they had imagined them to be; I should be ready to refute any objection, and solve any difficulty that they might think proper to bring forward.—Pp. 6—8 My four friends agreed to the condition, and we appointed our first meeting to be held at the house of M., at one o'clock the following Sunday.

M., the gentleman at whose house we were to meet, called in the interim on Lord Byron; and, among other things, mentioned to his lordship the object of our intended meeting. His lordship expressed a wish to be present, and said, that he also would willingly be converted, if he could, as he felt no happiness in his present unsettled notions on religion. "You know," added his lordship, "I am reckoned a black sheep;" and, after a pause, he continued, "yet not so black as the world believes me, nor worse than others." He said, he would not intrude himself, as he did not know me; but M. said, that he had no doubt that I should readily consent that his lordship should be present, and would, indeed, be very sensible of the honour he did us. On the nature and object of the meeting being further explained to him, he said that he would convince me, that, if he had not faith, he had at least patience, and that he would listen the prescribed time without interrupting me. On the next day M. communicated to me his lordship's wishes, and, though I had never spoken to his lordship, and little anticipated such a hearer, I readily consented to his being present, notwithstanding my fears that a consideration of his reputation and rank would embarrass me, more than was desirable, in the execution of a task, at all times, and under the most favourable circumstances, arduous and difficult.-Pp. 8-11. As is usual with unbelievers, none of the Doctor's friends had patience to accede to his proposal entirely; but they met several times, and held discussions on various portions of the Christian evidence, though not with much system and precision.

We have said that Calvinism is the worst possible form of Christianity for the work of conversion. Its doctrines are not beside natural reason; they are positively contradictory to it. It cannot be defended without a mass of metaphysical sophistry, which is naturally met with "How can this be the religion of plain men?" When the plain reader finds "The Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all