unfledged cur from a cavalry institute, when I asked for a strong reinforcement. Then what brought you here, boy?" "To join your expedition, general." "Have they told you it was a holiday-party that we had planned? Did they say it was a junketting we were bent upon?" "If they had, sir, I would not have come." "The greater fool you, then! that's all," cried he, laughing; "when I was your age I'd not have hesitated twice between a merry-making and a bayonetcharge." While he was thus speaking, he never ceased to sign his name to every paper placed before him by one or other of the secretaries. No, parbleu!" he went on, "La maitresse before the mitraille any day for me. But what's all this, Girard. Here I'm issuing orders upon the national treasury for hundreds of thousands without let or compunction." The aide-de-camp whispered a word or two in a low tone. "I know it, lad; I know it well," said the general, laughing heartily; "I only pray that all our requisitions may be as easily obtained in future. Well, Monsieur le Garde, what are we to do with you." "Not refuse me, I hope, general," said I, diffidently. 'Not refuse you, certainly; but in what capacity to take you, lad, that's the question. If you had served-if you had even walked a campaign "So I have, general-this will show you where I have been ;" and I handed him the "livret" which every soldier carries of his conduct and career. He took the book, and casting his eyes hastily over it, exclaimed Why, what's this, lad? You've been at Kehl, at Emenendingen, at Rorshach, at Huyningen, through all that Black Forest affair with Moreau! You have seen smoke, then. Ay! I see honourable mention of you besides, for readiness in the field and zeal during action. What! more brandy! Girard. Why our Irish friends must have been exceedingly thirsty I've given them credit for something like ten thousand "velts" already! No matter, the poor fellows may have to put up with short rations for all this yet-and there goes my signature once more. What does that blue light mean, Girard?" said he, pointing to a bright blue star that shone from a mast of one of the ships of war. That is the signal, general, that the embarkation of the artillery is complete." "Parbleu!" said he, with a laugh, "it need not have taken long; they've given in two batteries of eights, and one of them has not a gun fit for service. There goes a rocket, now. Isn't that the signal to heave short on the anchors? Yes, to be sure. And now it is answered by the other! Ha! lads, this does look like business at last!" The door opened as he spoke, and a naval officer entered. "The wind is drawing round to the south, general; we can weigh with the ebb if you wish it." "Wish it!—if I wish it! Yes, with my whole heart and soul I do! I am just as sick of La Rochelle as is La Rochelle of me. The salute that announces our departure will be a 'feude-joie' to both of us! Ay, sir, tell your captain that I need no further notice than that he is ready. Girard, see to it that the marauders are sent on board in irons. The fellows must learn at once that discipline begins when we trip our anchors. As for you," said he, turning to me, “you shall act upon my staff with provisional rank as sous-lieutenant: time will show if the grade should be confirmed. And now hasten down to the quay, and put yourself under Colonel Lerrasin's orders." Colonel Lerrasin, the second in command, was, in many respects, the very opposite of Humbert. Sharp, petulant, and irascible, he seemed quite to overlook the fact, that, in an expedition which was little better than a foray, there must necessarily be a great relaxation of the rules of discip line, and many irregularities at least winked at, which, in stricter seasons, would call for punishment. The consequence was, that a large proportion of our force went on board under arrest, and many actually in irons. The Irish were, without a single exception, all drunk; and the English soldiers, who had procured their liberation from imprisonment on condition of joining the expedition, had made sufficiently free with the brandy-bottle, to forget their new alliance, and vent their hatred of France and Frenchmen in expressions whose only alleviation was, that they were nearly unintelligible. Such a scene of uproar, discord, and The insubordination never was seen. relative conditions of guard and prisoner elicited national animosities that were scarcely even dormant, and many a bloody encounter took place between those whose instinct was too powerful to feel themselves anything but enemies. A cry, too, was raised, that it was meant to betray the whole expedition to the English, whose fleet, it was asserted, had been seen off Oleron that morning; and although there was not even the shadow of a foundation for the belief, it served to increase the alarm and confusion. Whether originating or not with the Irish, I cannot say, but certainly they took advantage of it to avoid embarking; and now began a schism which threatened to wreck the whole expedition, even in the harbour. The Irish, as indifferent to the call of discipline as they were ignorant of French, refused to obey orders save from officers of their own country; and although Lerrasin ordered two companies to "load with ball and fire low," the similar note for preparation from the insurgents induced him to rescind the command and try a compromise. In this crisis I was sent by Lerrasin to fetch what was called the "Committee," the three Irish deputies who accompanied the force. They had already gone aboard of the Dedalus, little foreseeing the difficulties that were to arise on shore. Seated in a small cabin next the wardroom, I found these three gentlemen, whose names were Tone, Teeling, and Sullivan. Their attitudes were gloomy and despondent, and their looks anything but encouraging as I entered. A paper on which a few words had been scrawled, and signed with their three names underneath, lay before them, and on this their eyes were bent with a sad and deep meaning. I knew not then what it meant, but I afterwards learned that it was a compact formally entered into and drawn up, that if, by the chance of war, they should fall into the enemy's hands, they would anticipate their fate by suicide, but leave to the English government all the ignominy and disgrace of their death. They seemed scarcely to notice me as I came forward, and even when I delivered my message they heard it "What do you want us to do, sir ?" said Teeling, the eldest of the party. "We hold no command in the service. It was against our advice and counsel that you accepted these volunteers at all. We have no influence over them." "Not the slightest," broke in Tone. "These fellows are bad soldiers and worse Irishmen. The expedition will do better without them." "And they better without the expedition," muttered Sullivan, drily. "But you will come, gentlemen, "You and speak to them," said I. can at least assure them that their suspicions are unfounded." 66 Very true, sir," replied Sullivan, "we can do so, but with what success? No, no. If you can't maintain discipline here on your own soil, you'll make a bad hand of doing it when you have your foot on Irish ground. And, after all, I for one am not surprised at the report gaining credence." “How so, sir,” asked I, indignantly. "Simply that when a promise of fifteen thousand men dwindles down to a force of eight hundred; when a hundred thousand stand of arms come to be represented by a couple of thousand; when an expedition, pledged by a government, has fallen down to a marauding party; when Hoche or Kleber But never mind, I always swore that if you sent but a corporal's guard that I'd go with them.” A musket-shot here was heard, followed by a sharp volley and a cheer, and, in an agony of anxiety, I rushed to the deck. Although above half a mile from the shore, we could see the movement of troops hither and thither, and hear the loud words of command. Whatever the struggle, it was over in a moment, and now we saw the troops descending the steps to the boats. With an inconceivable speed the men fell into their places, and, urged on by the long sweeps, the heavy launches swept across the calm water of the bay. If a cautious reserve prevented any open questioning as to the late affray, the second boat which came alongside revealed some of its terrible consequences. Seven wounded soldiers were assisted up the side by their comrades, and in total silence conveyed to their station between decks. "A bad augury this!" muttered Sullivan, as his eye followed them. "They might as well have left that work for the English!" "A swift six-oar boat, with the tricolour flag floating for a flag-staff at her stern, now skimmed along toward us, and as she came nearer we could recognise the uniforms of the officers of Humbert's staff, while the burly figure of the general himself was soon distinguishable in the midst of them. As he stepped up the ladder, not a trace of displeasure could be seen on his broad bold features. Greeting the assembled officers with a smile, he asked how the wind was? "All fair, and freshening at every moment," was the answer. "May it continue!" cried he, "fervently. "Welcome a hurricane, if it only waft us westward!" The foresail filled out as he spoke, the heavy mass heaved over to the wind, and we began our voyage, THE METHOD OF DIVINE GOVERNMENT.* THE injury done by vague and indeterminate notions in practical sciences, such as theology, morals, and politics, has been happily illustrated by the parallel instance of the mischievous effects of a fog in London. The danger of the case arises from the mixture of light and obscurity. If the privation of light were total, and the darkness were, like that of Egypt, "a darkness that might be felt," an entire suspension of human activity would ensue. "They saw not one another, neither rose any from his place." But the mixture of light is just sufficient to tempt men to continue their business, and venture abroad, though not enough to save them from the risk of running against a lamppost, or stumbling down a cellar. So likewise, in the case of an intellectual haze, the great danger is, that those whose understandings are informed with nothing better than half-views and indeterminate notions, will, nevertheless, judge and act as vigorously as if they were judging and acting in the broad daylight of clear reason. But there is another peculiar danger connected with some intellectual fogs, for which it is not easy to find a parallel. The citizens of London, though pretty well habituated to November mists, are rarely, if ever, known to full in love with the grand obscurity of that mysterious state of the atmosphere, or persuade themselves that they could then cross Fleet-street most safely when they could not distinguish an omnibus 66 from a dog-cart. But let the reader imagine to himself, if he can, a mist so resplendent with gay, prismatic colours, such a gorgeous canopy of golden air," as that men should begin to forget its inconvenience in their admiration of its beauty, and a kind of nebular taste should prevail for preferring this glorious dimness to the vulgar clarity of common day. Nothing short of such a case as this would af ford a parallel for the mischief done to the public mind by those writers, at present so popular in England and America, who have long been accustoming their disciples to admire, as a style truly philosophical, what can hardly be described otherwise than as a certain haze of words imperfectly understood, through which some re mote ideas, scarcely distinguishable in their outlines, loom, as it were, upon the view in a dusky kind of grandeur which vastly exaggerates their propor tions. It is chiefly in such foggy forms that the metaphysical philosophy of Ger many is every day exercising an increasing influence on the popular literature of England: and its practical effect seems to be felt much more in the production of a distaste, and even contempt for all metaphysics or theology of home-growth, than in substi tuting anything definite in their place. It has been, indeed, sufficiently instilled into men's minds, that German philosophy is something far more pro "The Method of the Divine Government, Physical and Moral." By Rev. James M'Cosh, A.M. Edinburgh: Sutherland and Knox. 1850. 8vo., pp. 540. found than anything hitherto extant in our native literature; but what that profound something is, appears not at all so generally understood by the mass of its admirers. We are willing to assume that the distinguished gentlemen who have set the fashion in this case, have, in their own private studies, acquired a more exact and complete acquaintance with it than they deem it necessary to exhibit in their writings: but we are pretty sure that a large proportion of their followers have been content to take matters upon trust, and believe with an implicit faith that what they perceive to be very hard thinking, is very accurate thinking also. However that may be, transcendentalism is unquestionably the vogue at present. How long it may continue So, it is not so easy to calculate. We, in these countries, have been, from time immemorial, apt to lag behind the rest of Europe in matters of fashion. We take up some peculiarity just when it has become so soiled and common in the place of its nativity, as to be there passing out of repute. As Falstaff would express it, "We sing the tunes the carmen whistle." In Germany itself, that grotesque dress of mysticism in which their philosophy was at first invested, and which gave it an air at once so strange and striking, is beginning to be thought rather an incumbrance than an advantage; and some of the younger Hegelinus have startled their more ceremonious elders by presenting them with the principles of the sects, faithfully, but somewhat coarsely, rendered into the vulgar tongue. It seems to be felt, even there, that to produce a perma nent, as well as a strong effect upon the popular mind, matter-of-fact in a plain style must be set before it; and probably the author whose book we purpose to review, has exercised a sound discretion, as well as shown a just taste, in calculating his argument, both in matter and manner, rather for coming than for present popularity. Not that he has neglected altogether to sacrifice to the Graces at present worshipped by the reading public. He has done so, in our humble opinion, rather too largely. Though there be no mysticism, there is a superabundance of rhetoric, and that peculiar kind of redundant illustration which, like Homer's similes, runs wild into episode. A literary Cuvier would set The practical knowledge which the disciples of Butler love best to study, is the knowledge of things and persons, not as they are in themselves, but as they are in respect of us. The ambitious mind of man naturally grasps first at the former sort of knowledge, supposing that, having gained it, the other will follow as a corollary. No doubt such is the highest form of knowledge where it is attainable; but it seems attainable only in a few cases, if any, and those of no great practical importance. The great mass of our practical knowledge consists in a knowledge of the relations-not of the essences of things-a knowledge not so much derived by deductive infer ence, as reached by inductive observation. Mr. M'Cosh's object is to ascertain what can be learned by observation of the method of God's govern. ment of the world, physical and moral. Such an inquiry seems, like Bishop Butler's great work, to assume, in the outset, the existence of the Deity; and though the state of the controversy with infidels in the last century made such an assumption safe then, matters have so changed their aspect at present, that, finding Deism no longer tenable, the enemy has preferred the bolder position of Atheism, withdrawing from the open plain of experience to those mountains of fundamental principles, which, as this author eloquently says, is a region" often covered with clouds, but where all the streams of science have their fountains." From these fastnesses, Mr. M'Cosh undertakes to dislodge the adversary. Yet we have some doubts whether, after all, the expedition be absolutely necessary. As there is plainly no presumption against the existence of a physical and moral Governor of the universe, so it seems to us that a proof that the course of things is as if there were such a Governor, is in itself a legitimate proof of his existence. But our duty at present is to attend our author, not to guide him. "General laws" are, according to the cant of modern Infidelity, the true substitute for the old idea of God. The phrase is one of most convenient ambiguity to the employers of it, and the first business of the author is to distinguish its various meanings. He specifies three several significations which it may bear:-1. The properties of bodies. But these cannot, with any plausibility, be assigned as the causes of the course of nature, because bodies require a certain combination and adjustment, before they can act upon one another, and it is only upon one another that they act. No material substance changes spontaneously, but, when severed from external agents, remains for ever in the state in which it was when the separation took place. Hence we come (2), to another meaning the action of two or more substances so adjusted as to make their properties active. Here, indeed, an account is given of the effects resulting from such an adjustment; but it is only given by assigning what raises another question as to the cause determining that adjustment itself. Baffled here, then, we turn to the last meaning (3), a predication of such resemblance as brings certain objects into a common class-as when we say that all quadrupeds are mammalia. But in this sense, to speak of the action of a general law is manifestly absurd, because the thing spoken of is the mere enunciation of a fact. : The great value of this part of the work consists in bringing clearly before the reader the fact, that we must suppose an original adjustment of the properties of the elementary bodies to each other, in certain definite combinations, to account for the continued action of the machinery of the universe. If this be admitted, then no assignment of secondary physical causes, however subtle or intricate, can evade the old argument from design. It only pushes it back; and (what is specially worthy of remark) increases the force of its recoil by every point which it is made to recede. Suppose, for example, that you can show demonstrably, from the known properties of matter, that a certain mixture in definite proportions of gases, acids, and earths, will develope itself into the organized structure of a plant, or an animal, and what have you shown but the admirable simplicity of the contrivance by which the Author of nature secures his multiplied ends? The state of science in modern times only requires that, instead of stopping short at the mechanism by which the end is immediately obtained, the argument for design should bottom itself upon the selection of original collocations or adjustments fruitful in developed mechanism for the attainment of the Creator's ends. Driven from the shelter of ambiguity afforded by the term "laws," the Atheist is reduced either (1) to deny that the properties of bodies require mutual adjustment by some external agent, and seek a cause of development in some original property of matter itself; or (2), to deny that a cause is to be sought at all, and reduce all science to a mere affair of classification and arrangement-the finding of the most general possible expression for the facts of the universe. This latter evasion leads the author into a discussion of the difficult ques tion concerning cause and effect. Is a cause only an antecedent phenomenon; an effect a consequent phenomenon; and the connexion between them merely the strength of the association between the two ideas in our minds? Mr. M'Cosh thinks otherwise. He undertakes to establish that, while the notion of an effect is certainly that of a phenomenon-a change of statethe notion of the cause which we feel that such a change requires is that of a substance, endowed with certain powers or properties by which the change is effected. This statement, as he remarks, while it is in accordance with the natural notions of men's minds, secures natural theology from the attacks which some metaphysicians have made upon it from this quarter. Admitting that material substances are real causes, brings with it no danger, since experience shows that their properties cannot act without previous adjustment and combination; while the limitation of effects to changes renders it unnecessary to search for a cause of the eternal existence of the Supreme. Some, however, we apprehend, there will be, who, readily granting to this author that action and passion are predicable only of substances, will feel a difficulty in the way of allowing any proper activity to matter. It must be allowed that our notions of distinct material substances are vague and obscure; and that some of those who speak of the powers of material substances use expressions which would lead one to suppose that they retained |