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identity of things, as the identity of names often only serves to conceal the change of things. Whoever can read Roman History, and not see that Patrician means Aristocracy, and Plebeian means Democracy, has discovered a way of reading with his eyes shut. In this struggle-and it was a struggle for ages -the Patricians were triumphant, and Rome-fell! Had the path been constitutionally open, as in this country it increasingly is, to political knowledge and moral power, wherever manifested, Plebeian talent, energy, uncorrupted simplicity, unluxurious exertion, and sympathy with the masses, gradually gathering round Power as its supports, and gradually receiving refinement from it as its Possessors, might have saved the Roman State, not indeed, perhaps, as an unwieldy empire, but as a People-a Nation: as such they might have been existing at this moment.

It was the perpetuation of unmodified luxuriousness and effeminacy in the holders of power that made Rome so soon a prey to the Barbarians. The hands that held that Power were palsied and bloated: and hands like their own had transmitted it to them. Each generation deepened the dye of the previous generation's corruption, while it only halved the miserable reliques of its strength. A vigorous blow brought the Holders to the ground. Now, however gradually the work be done, if there be a gradual influx of fresh and healthy blood into the veins of Power, the best and greatest safeguard of an Empire is secured. Here, then, is one great cause why Rome in ruins, national as well as architectural, is no argument for London in


But, in truth, did the thousand circumstances of difference that prevent almost the possibility of any analogy between the two cases, render the supposition probable, that in some five hundred years' time the tide of events, and the universal law of decay, would place England, and especially London, politically, physically, and morally, as completely in the past as Italy, and especially Rome, is now, still a similar interest never could be felt about them: still should we be obliged to say, that the stranger, viewing the mouldering remains of the British Empire, and its Capitol, never could be as much enchained by the associations connected with them, as the stranger now is by those connected with the remains of Rome. There will never be another Rome. The associations that gather round it are unique. England, or any other nation, London, or any other Capitol, in however remote a distance, and however wealthily endowed with interest, cannot be to posterity what Rome is to us.

Among the reasons for it are these:-In the days of Rome, the World, I mean our occidental World, had but one History and Literature of interest and power-the Grecian. The physical extent of Greece, even with its colonies, was not great, and the extension of its Literature was proportionably small. But coming into contact with Rome, and glad of the opportunity, it breathed its last breath in the arms of the Romans. The Genius of Greece let fall its mantle on the shoulders of Rome. The latter studied well the parent that had adopted it. Fame, talent, education, not to say politeness, studied Greece. Their orators chewed Demosthenes before they originated for themselves. Their historians imbued themselves with the philosophic spirit of Thucydides before they wrote, and that youth was but half educated who had not frequented, as a student, the Porch or the Academy. The Romans absorbed the Literature of Greece; it impregnated their mental blood, and the parent-features were recognised in the faces of the offspring. Rome was the Moon, pale indeed, but silvery and beautiful, to the dazzling Sun of Greece. The City of the Two Brothers spread her name, her arms, her power, over a vast portion of the then known World; and her language and, to some extent, her Literature followed. Take what part of the world you like (speaking occidentally), where was the man who had ambition in him, of whatever kind, who did not turn his thoughts to Rome? In Arms?-to the Roman Eagle. In Eloquence?-to the Roman Bar. In Politics?-to the Roman Forum. In Literature?—to the Apollo of the Palatine. Rome got fast hold of the World-first by her arms, and then by her Literature. At last she fell her arms no longer swayed; and even in her writings she was as one dead.


When Europe burst from the sleep of ages, what was she to do but betake herself to Rome? The Grecian fountains were re-opened; but there was much of the language of Rome still living, which, instrumental to better acquaintance with Grecian treasures, itself also absorbed much of those treasures. might be said, then, to be to re-awakened Europe, as it were, but one Literature; and she felt grateful to that Literature for her new birth. The country which first received the new impetus had the additional and urgent stimulus of patriotism acting upon her. Italy had a thousand tender links still surviving to bind her to old Rome. For though a country be overrun, it cannot be actually depopulated. There was still Roman blood in Italian veins. Rome's history then was studied; her literature diligently revived. If, in the age of Cicero, it was disgraceful to be ignorant of Greek, now, in the time of Politian, it was

more so to be ignorant of Latin; and Rome herself, rising amidst her ruins, had a voice in her very temples and palaces which reached men's hearts, and made them listen to her. Latin became the language of the schools; the vehicle of thought. Youth was more perfect in the deeds and doings of Ancient Rome than in those of its own country.

And the Arts were soon, as though to complete the triumph, acknowledged to have taken up their abode where Learning had, as it were in spirit, taken up hers; and the Europe that must, as long as it possesses the common organs of sense, reverence and visit and love her for her statuary* and architecture, thus aided, will be long indeed before it ceases to cherish her recollections also. None can visit Rome without bowing to the Sceptre of Classic Literature; and, whatever be their creed in England or elsewhere, here they must sign the confession of reverence to Rome.

But will it, can it, should it, ever be thus with England? England's arms have not extended, feared, unrivalled, and unopposed, to prepare a vast receptacle for her language and her literature. She has not succeeded, an only and favoured child, to the name and inheritance of an honoured parent; but shares with many others the honours as well as the blessings of a common heritage. As she has not founded the sole Empire in arms, neither has she in Letters. If France and Germany have divided with her the one, they also share with her the other. Mankind would receive one Literature with a gratitude that would never allow it to be forgotten; but they will not receive half-a-dozen. England, then, will never possess an absorbing Literature for Europe; she never will have an undivided empire over the mind of Europe. This, therefore, is the reason that she will never excite in the breast of the Traveller that same deep and hallowed interest that Italy does now; and this is the reason that, in spite of her orators, her historians, and her poets, London must be London to the end of the chapter.

In proportion as a blessing extends, the honour of conferring it is lessened, or at least subdivided; and Rome, in the very act of nurturing in the bosom of her Literature many sons, crowned herself with a laurel to which there could be no inheritor, no successor. Our sources of instruction are now multiplied, and we shall never be prostrate at the foot of one Language (or rather of one Genius of Language, as the two languages may be regarded as forming but one Literature), dependent upon it for our intellectual nurture again. The honour of thus teaching the World will never fall to the lot of any country

• The occurrence of this allusion forces one to confess that all but the historical and political interest of Rome is of a borrowed nature.

again. The honour is irrevocably, irremediably divided; because the blessing irrevocably, ever-increasingly extended. However long, or however short a time, Rome may exercise the dominion over the mind she has hitherto done, there never will be another.

The sun shone so warmly and brightly on this 30th of December; the old walls, with whom I had thus for awhile conversed, looked so hale and venerable; the road that wandered round their base was so solitary and peaceable,-I wonder there were not more upon it. But the visitors at Rome cannot do without the visum and visu, and it was then the hour of corsoa melancholy imitation of Hyde Park to the economizing Exiles.

At this moment the Via Appia opened its hospitable gate to receive me again into the city. I passed under the mighty ruins of the Baths of Caracella; the Arc of Constantine flung its shadow over me as I entered into the Forum. The Coliseum welcomed me with its spreading arms on the right. I passed over the Quirinal, and through the Piazza di Spagna; and, entering the busiest, most populated part of modern Rome, found myself at our lodging on-the Campus Martius.

C. W.

"And when they had sung an Hymn they went out into the Mount of Olives."

My heart has often longed to know
What was that parting strain
That broke the holy silence round-
But now we seek in vain :

What were those words of thrilling might,
Words that had then the power
To cheer the faint disciples' hearts,
And soothe them in that hour.

Vainly a mortal hand would dare
To write the sacred word;
Disciple lov'd! why didst not thou
That parting hymn record?


ART. VII.-THE CONNEXION OF NATURAL AND DIVINE TRUTH; or, THE STUDY OF THE INDUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY CONSIDERED AS SUBSERVIENT TO THEOLOGY. By the Rev. BADEN POWELL, M. A., F. R. S., F. G. S., of Oriel College, Savilian Professor of Geometry in the University of Oxford. London: John W. Parker, West Strand. 1838. 8vo. pp. 313.

THIS is the work of an enlightened, philosophical, and courageous mind; and however far it may fall short of accomplishing for the argument what its author undertook to supply, it will have claims upon the attention of every future student of Natural Theology, for the sake of its ample (though still imperfect) scheme, and for the clearness with which it reveals some of the deficiencies and desiderata of the science.

Seldom does a book so manifestly display its origin. We see the desires in its author's mind, which gave it birth. It has the great merit that it was written for express purposes, and to meet felt wants. There were two ideas in Professor Powell's mind which he strongly wished to establish and publish by outward and scientific expression. One of these ideas was the natural desire of a scientific man for strict reasonings, the desire to convert the mere impressions, the appeals, and declamation of the Natural Theologian, into the steps of a logical argument, -to convert moral persuasion into demonstrative proof. The other idea was the desire natural to a religious mind perfectly free from the Fear of Truth,—the desire of removing from Religion the discredit of an hostility to Science, of holding no connexions with Natural Knowledge, and from scientific men, who are the true Revealers and Interpreters of God, the ungrateful calumny that they are the Rivals of Revelation;-the desire to pursue every Science, whether Physical or Theological, upon its own proper evidence, and to be afraid of no Truth, to dread no conflicting manifestations of the one infinite Mind. These are the two ideas which produced The Connexion of Natural and Divine Truth; or the Study of the Inductive Philosophy Considered as Subservient to Theology.'


In the preface these two designs of the undertaking are thus stated:

"The train of writers called forth by the Bridgewater bequest; the re-production of Paley's work, illustrated and prefaced from the resources of a period of advanced knowledge; and the various other publications to which these directly or indirectly have given rise,-have together fur

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