same satisfactory manner as for the placency at what he calls a "wonPresident's smile. He, however, derful discovery." And why does he agreed with me that my speech was laugh? Because it has happened above comprehension, and advised that Lord Kaimes had noticed the me never to speak at the forum again. same inconsistency in Milton before. I do assure ou, Mi. Editor, I intend i have read Lord Kaimes' work with to keep his advice. Supper was soon considerable pleasure, though freafter announced, but my discovery of quently disgusted with his metaphy the stupidity of the audience at the sical affectation: but I do not recol forum deprived me of all appetite; lect his having detected the error in and the cloth being removed, I con- Milton. I have not his Elements at sulted my cousin or the disposal of hand, so I cannot refer to them for a my valuable MS. and he advised me corroboration of Mr. Brown's stateto make the first offer of it to a ment, though I suppose it is correct. bookseller who had just at that time However, it is not in Mr. B.'s power been invested with civic honours. to deprive me of my just claim to originality with regard to myself: for, at the time I wrote to you,! knew not that any person had noticed the passage, and I believe I stated as much in my first letter. I am not aware that I indulged in any excessive self-complacency about it; for really I hold such trifles in such mean esti mation, that I could never envy the honours of a verbal critic. Mr. B may exult in having detected me, if he thinks it a detection: I cannot exult in having detected Milton, who know it to be a detection. When I am ambitions of the honours of a "word catcher," I shall perhaps be more scrupulous in finding out who has hunted the same ground before my arm. O Mr. Editor, you who are perhaps an author, you can easily conceive with what proud and extatic feelings, springing from a noble consciousness of genius and learning, I sallied forth on the following morning with the darling offspring of my brain under Arrived at the house of the publishing knight, I knocked, as I suppose all geniuses knock, in a most violent manner. The door was immediately opened, and I was struck with astonishment. A thing presented itself, but my descriptive powers on a sudden fail me. Pardon me, Mr. Editor, I must retire to collect myself. [To be continued.] A. B. in Reply to Mr. BROWN. WHEN I wrote my final rejoin W me. I cannot conclude without expressing my thanks to Vindex, (in your last number, p. 280) for his temperate and gentlemanly defence of me, and I remain, Sir, Your obedient servant, Canterbury, Nov. 9, 1809. A. B. your Magazine for June last, p. 498, seems to entertain of my critical I considered myself as having done emendation. I had spared him the with the question of Milton's absur- trouble of defending me, had I ear dity in the passage which I had lier thought a defence necessary. quoted. Nor should I have departed from my resolution had the question been confined, subsequently, by your correspondents, to the guilt or innocence of Milton. But a gentleman, who signs himself J. Brown, (in your Magazine for September, p. 194) seems to wish to triumph over me with so much exultation that I cannot help noticing his letter. Ip fectly commend your candour in admitting arguments on both sides, and the conviction of this candour leaves me no doubt that you will grant a place to the present communication, Mr. Brown laughs at my self-com per ESSAY on the first HUMAN SOCIETY, according to the MOSAIC HISTORY. [Continued from p. 295.] Hflavour in the self sown vege E E now discovered a peculiar tables, of which he was before insensible, and sleep stole upon him with greater sweetness after the fatigues of the day, and under the roof built by himself, than in the unvaried and The birth of a son, his support, his monotonous peace of paradise. In nursing and bringing up, increased his battle with the tiger he rejoiced the knowledge, the experience, and in the discovered powers of his limbs, the duties of the first man in a conand with every danger which he sur- siderable degree, and of which partimounted he had himself alone to cular notice must be taken. thank for the continuance of his life. From the beasts the first mother He now became too noble for Para- learnt, without doubt, the most nedise, and he knew not himself; when cessary maternal duty, and it is prounder the pressure of necessity and bable that necessity taught her the a load of cares he wished himself proper means to be employed in the again in Paradise. An inward impa- hour of childbirth. The anxiety for tient impulse, the effect of his her child rendered her attentive to awakened self agency, would soon innumerable little comforts, of which have followed him in his indolent she, till then, was ignorant; the happiness, and poisoned those joys number of things of which she learnt which he had not acquired for him to make a use increased, and materself. He would have converted Para- nal love became rich in invention. dise into a wilderness, and then have made the wilderness into a Paradise. But happy were it for the human cies of love, as each presented in the race, if it had no more formidable enemies to have contended with than the labours of the field, the rage of wild beasts, and a stormy climate; but necessity pressed upon him, the fiercest passions arose, and he soon armed himself against his equal.With man he wa obliged to fight for his existence, a long, guilty, and not yet finished battle; bui in this battle could he alone improve his reason and morality. Domestic Life. Until this period both had acknowledged but one relation, but one spe other but one object. Now, with a new object, they became acquainted with a new species of love, and a new moral relation arose, namely, paternal love. This new sentiment of love was of a purer kind than the first; it was wholly disinterested ;— whereas the first was grounded on pleasure and a mutual want of society. With this new experience they therefore ascended a higher step of morality, they became ennobled." But the paternal love which they The first children born of the mo- both displayed for their child effected ther of mankind, had a most impor- a material change in the relations in tant advantage over their parents. which they had hitherto stood to each They were trained and brought up by other. The cares, the joy, the tender beings like themselves. All the pro participations in the mutual object of gress which the latter effected by their love, bound them to each by themselves, and therefore in a tardy new and more charming bonds. On manner became the heritage of their this occasion each discovered in the children, and was given to them even other new, beautiful, moral traits, and in their most tender age with all the refined their relation to each other. cordiality of paternal love. With the The man loved in the woman, the first son therefore which was born of mother of his beloved son: the wowoman, the great machine began to man honoured and loved in the man, be effective, the machine by which the father, the supporter of her child. the whole human race has attained The mere sensual pleasure in each its formation, and will continue to other exalted itself to esteem, and attain it, namely, tradition, or the from the interested carnal appetite transmission of ideas. The Mosaic arose the beautiful phenomenon of record here deserts us, and overleaps conjugal love. a period of more than fifteen years to introduce the two brothers to us as grown to maturity. But this period is important to the history of man; and when the record forsakes us, reason must supply the deficiency, This experience of moral beauty was soon increased. The children grew in stature, and a tender bond gradually formed itself between them. The child attached itself most particularly to the child, as every creature loves itself but in its equal, and thus his spirit of imitation arose, and nein an imperceptible manner arose cessity soon excited him to lend his fraternal love. This was a new mo- support to nature, and by art to assist ral beauty for the first parents. They her voluntary bounty. now beheld, for the first time exterior to them, a picture of sociableness and benevolence; they recognised their own feelings, but only in a more youthful mirror. It must not, however, be supposed that corn was the first thing cultivated by man, as the preparations necessary to it are great and difficult; and it is agreeable to the course of nature to As long as the first parents were proceed always from the simple to the only beings, they thought but of the compounded. Rice was probathe past and the present, but now the bly the first plant cultivated by man. prospect of future joys opened itself To the culture of it he was invited by to their view. As they beheld their nature, for rice grows wild in India. children increase in stature, and daily and the ancient historians speak of some new faculty developing itself, the cultivation of rice as the first the future appeared arrayed in the which was practised. Man observed most pleasing colours: they saw their that in a protracted drought the plants children stepping into mauhood, and drooped, and that after rain they hope, a new feeling, awakened in their hearts. But what a boundless prospect Hope opens to the human race? Formerly they enjoyed every pleasure but once, and that was in the present; now Hope shewed enjoyment in a long perspective, and every future joy was doubly felt in the expectation. When the children had actually attained to years of maturity, what variety then presented itself in this little circle of human beings. Every idea which the parents had imparted to their children had, in each soul, made a different impression, and surprised them by their novelty. Ratiocination now became more lively. The moral feeling being put in practice, and developed by practice, language became more rich, and ventured on more determined and cultivated sentiments. No danger now existed of man degrading himself to the imitation of the brutes. Difference in the Mode of Life. The progress of cultivation displayed itself in the first generation. Adam cultivated the fields; and we observe one of his sons adopting a new method of support, as a breeder of cattle. Here therefore the human race divides itself into two conditions, the shepherd and the farmer. The first man was a disciple of nature, and from her he learnt all the useful arts of life. On an attentive observation the order was manifest in which the plants_regenerate. He saw nature herself sow and water; mediately recovered. He further re marked, that where an overflowing river had deposited a muddy sediment, the fertility of the ground was greater. He made the greatest advantage these two discoveries; he gave his plants an artificial rain, and brough the manure to his field, if no r was in the vicinity which could rich it by its sediment. He learnt to manure and water his land. But the first step towards the use of beasts appears to be attended with greater difficulty; but here he also began, as in other cases, with the innocent, and he was perhaps for many ages satisfied with the milk before b deprived the beasts of life. It wa without doubt, the milk from the breast of the woman which invited him to the experiment to make use of the milk of beasts. But he no sooner became acquainted with this species of support, than he took par ticular care to ensure it to himself for ever. In order to have this food always ready and in abundance, it was not to be left to chance to bring the beast to him whenever he was assailed by hunger. This suggested to him the propriety and necessity of collecting around him a certain number of useful anifnals; and thus the first flock was formed. But he was obliged to form it of those ani. mals whose nature is a social life, and to transport them from the state of wild and unrestrained freedom to that of servitude and rest, or in other words he was obliged to tame them. But before he ventured on those A [To be continued.] SINGULAR LOCAL CHANGES in the Sea. animals which were of a wilder na- ing what is called the Strait of Dover, ture, and superior to him in natural the great, if not the entire loss of weapons and powers, he made the land, must have been on the side of experiment first with those to whom France; the sea continuing to gain he was in powers superior. The care until it was stopped by the cliff of of sheep, therefore, preceded that of Calais, and the elevated lands in the horses, oxen, or swine. R. H. vicinity. The headlands, stiled the Forelands, north and south, then existed as at present. That part of England, therefore, cannot have sus-' tained any material loss in the space of nearly nine centuries, since this chart was made: but, towards Hampshire, the deperdition of soil must have been considerable, if the Isle of Wight was then really connected with the main land. Reasoning from the other data supplied by this ancient chart, it is presumable that the opposite coasts of France, Flanders, and ' from Dieppe perhaps to the farthest extremity of the latter country, must have been greatly deteriorated by these encroachments. Let the age of the chart be considered, and reflection be made at the same time on the constant ravages the sea is known to have more recently comtnitted in different quarters, the above facts, however extraordinary, will then not appear entirely void of probability. THE HE recent accidental discovery of a chart of the British channel, seen at Calais in 1798 by a Dutch captain, said to be 850 years old, in the possession of a respectable inhabitant who had been mayor of that place, seems to have thrown a very strong light upon the encroachments of the sea. This chart, delineated on parchment, extended on the east to Heligoland; on the north to Orfordness; and on the west to the present site of the Isle of Wight, which then formed a part of the main land of England. The principal headlands, as they now exist, were correctly laid down. Between Dover and the opposite side of the coast of France, there was a space of three miles only: Calais must therefore have been then situated in the interior. Not any en REPLY to R. H. in DEFENCE of SIR, NUBILIA. PON my word, Mr. Editor, I trance was described either into Dun-think it a very hard case that kirk, Flushing, or Beerhaven. The island of Goree being attached to the the Author of Nubilia does not step main land, of which it formed a part, forward himself and vindicate his own there was not any passage to Rotter- language. I engaged as a volunteer dam. Not any Flemish banks were in the cause, but I am likely to be laid down; the space occupied by drilled into a regular before I have them, and intermediately between done with it. them and the coast opposite, likewise Your correspondent and reviewer constituting a portion of the main R. H. writes with gentlemanly temland. But in the North Sea, the perance and candour: and, indeed, depth of water in this chart cor- had not his letter possessed those responded with the present depth. qualities, it would have drawn no The Vlie, or Fly Island as it is now answer from me, as I dislike to wage called, was connected with the main the dirty war of abusive controversy. land. I will do my best to convince him Such and so extraordinary are the and defend myself, and then I'll do encroachments which the sea appears no more. to have made on this part of the coast; R. H. denies that an adjective has as, in the space described, the more the power of changing the meaning prominent and elevated headlands are of a word. So do I, its absolute on the side of England, it would seem meaning. But an adjective can give, that, with a reference of three miles a new quality and there is certainly only, instead of seven leagues, form- a difference between a black and a UNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. XIL 3 B white face; yet they are both faces: thought he more particularly alluded they are, both, that part of the hu- to the use of the word groupe in the man body which we denominate a singular; but if I now understand face, but they are ESSENTIALLY dis- him rightly, he objects to the noun tinguished from each other merely and the verb being singular, and the by the addition of the adjective pronoun plural. This is certainly Allowing then reminiscence and recol- not strictly grammatical, though the lection to have precisely the same highest authorities might be produced meaning when used alone, it is most in vindication of it." However, no evident that they cannot have the authority ought to establish a wrong same meaning when one of them is precedent. Before ! quit this part of used with the addition of an adjective the discussion, I must observe, that which confers upon it a new quality. in the passage from Addison, the There must be a difference between verb applies to group, and not to recollection, and solemn recollection: picture. Addison was too correct a there must be a difference between writer to remove the relative which the recollection of a plum-pudding so far from the antecedent, and to that was spoiled in the boiling, and interpose a new member of the the solemn recollection of a favorite tence between them. child that was burnt to death. There I come now to the third part of the is surely a difference between walk question.-R. H. defies nie," with ing, and walking fast: in short, if all my ability; to metamorphose the adjectives create no additional quality superlative of an adjective into a subin the objects to which they are ap- stantive." I will, in candour attri plied, why are they used? R. H. bute this challenge to the heat of therefore must confess that an adjec- controversy, which is so apt to blind tive has the power of changing the our faculties even in the most simple meaning of a substantive, and most subjects. R. H. must surely know, essentially too: and such being the (for his letter, and his review, prove case, there was no tautology of mean that he has an enlightened mind), ing in the author of Nubilia, when that every adjective, in any of its dehe said to recollect with solemn grees of comparison, may be made a reminiscence." I consider this as substantive of in power, by the ap indisputable; for the adjective solemn plication of the definite article (the) marked the kind of recollection that to it, or any of the pronouns. It can was indulged in. Having proved scarcely be necessary to adduce i thus much, I shall find no difficulty stances in support of this, yet, it in shewing that there is no tautology his satisfaction, I will do it :of language in this contested passage. Your correspondent says, 66 tau "What reward Awaits the good, the rest, what penish ment."- -Milton. "Grant the bad what happiness they would, "I profess not talking: only this, tology consists in a difference of words Let each man do his best."— Shakspeart. bearing the same sense." Yes; but it also signifies a repetition of the same words. (See Johnson.) I suppose R. H. will allow that reminiscence and recollection are not the same words in orthography, and that neither of them were repeated. Therefore I was justified in what I said, that there was no tautology of language. Considering myself to have satisfactorily proved the erroneous opinions of R. H. in this first matter, let me now pass to the second. And, with regard to this second, I am inclined to think that the construction of the sentence would have been better if the relative pronoun had agreed with its antecedent. When I first read the criticism of R, H. Į One thing they must want, which is to pass for good"-Pope. "The young and gay declining, Alına flies At nobler game, the mighty and the wise." Young. "The wisest of all ages have allowed this."Addison. "The weak, by thinking themselves that which ruius them: and the strong, bị strong, are induced to proclaim war against thinking themselves weak, are thereby rendered as useless as if they were really so." South, |