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den into the presence of an offended Maker, and to seek her last great and

dread account

With all her imperfections on her head.

These, however, are, as we said, the imperfections to be expected from a young and inexperienced writer; and, with Horace, we will add, in conclusion, that when as he

-Plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit, Aut humana parum cavit natura.— and recommend these Nuga to the patronage of our readers.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.
SIR,

HEN

WH

gross misrepresentations of any description, but more particularly of an individual nature, are laid open to public investigation, it then becomes the duty of those better acquainted with facts to detect the errors, by giving an authentic statement of what actually existed on the subject in question. In the 52d volume of the Monthly Magazine for Nov. 1821, an extract is published from MSS. denominated "Stephensiana;" which extract is notoriously incorrect in almost every sentence. I allude to the article "Paul Jones," in which nearly the whole detailed communication evinces the total misinformation of the writer. It is true, the error may appear a venial one, inasmuch as the general outline of occurrences, is, in some measure, preserved; but nothing ought to be considered as trifling that affects the cause of truth or common justice, where either the character or feelings of our fellow creatures plicated.

1

John Paul, Mr. Craik's gardener, who remained upwards of forty years in his service. The master and these two domestics were both married in the same week, so far back as the year 1733, and the female to whom Mr. Stephens so charitably alludes, had three daughters and one or two sons before the birth of the said Paul Jones actually took place. It was not late in life when Mr. Craik succeeded to his father's estate of Arbigland, and his having ever been in the excise is equally false; he was, however, surveyor general of the customs, in which the latter mistake has no doubt originated. His legitimate son did not perish between Arbigland and Carlisle, for this conclusive reason, that the last mentioned place happens to be situated

at some distance from the ocean. The fatal event occurred between his father's house at Arbigland and Allonby, on the opposite shore of Cumberland, in 1782; neither was it a cousin, but the son of his eldest sister, who succeeded to the estate.

Should any further intelligence on the existing subject be deemed necessary, application may be made to the writer of the present communication, who happening to be the sole surviving daughter of the late Mr. Craik, conceives herself fully as competent as Mr. Stephens to answer any questions the occasion may henceforth require. HELEN CRAIK.

Flimby Lodge, near Maryport,
Cumberland, Nov. 12, 1821.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.
SIR,

are obviously im- MR. GIBBON is not only an ad

In the first instance, the late Mr. Craik's christian name was not Robert but William; in the next, there is no such place as Arbigglings in Dumfriesshire, or any where else in the south of Scotland. Arbigland, the real designation of the above gentleman's estate, is situated on the coast of Galloway, not sixteen miles from Dumfries, and certainly in annual amount, more than doubles the sum mentioned in the Monthly Magazine for November. Instead of dying in 1796, or 7, at the advanced age of 90, Mr. Craik's decease happened in 1798, in the 95th year of his yet more prolonged existence. Why Mr. Stephens should assert that Paul Jones was that gentleman's son by a female servant, is impossible now to discover. The woman in question was the wife of

mirer of the enlightened system of the Persian Magi, but an implicit believer in the pure and perfect ideas of religion and morality, entertained by the Grecian and Roman philosophers in general. The inference deducible from this representation is too obvious to need either explanation or comment.

"In their writings and conversation," says this historian, (vol. 1, p. 49.)" the philosophers of antiquity asserted the independent dignity of reason; but they resigned their actions to the commands vf law and of custom. Viewing with a smile of pity and indulgence the various errors of the vulgar, they diligently practised the ceremonies of their fathers; devoutly frequented the temples of the gods. Reasoners of such a temper were scarcely inclined to wrangle about their respective modes of faith, or of worship. It was indifferent to them what shape

the

the folly of the multitude might chuse to assume; and they approached with the same inward contempt and the same external reverence, the altars of the Libyan, Olympian, or the Capitoline Jupiter."

But who are those ancient sages to whom this pompous description is applicable? Anaxagoras alone, maintained in Greece the sublime doctrine of one God; but far from "resigning his actions to the commands of law and custom," he was expelled from Athens for non-compliance with the established worship. Democritus openly taught in that city the doctrine of the Atomic philosophy, and his scholar, Protagoras, commenced one of his treatises in the following manner. "Of the Gods I know nothing, neither that they are, nor that they are not, for our understandings are too much clouded, and the life of man is too short for the solution of so difficult a problem." Diagoras was accused of atheism, and banished from Athens for impiety. If these were the philosophers to whom Mr. G. alludes, as "asserting the dignity of reason," they certainly did not at the same time approach with reverence the altars of Jupiter. In Rome Seneca, as we are told by Tacitus, when expiring in the bath, made indeed a libation to Jupiter Liberator. But how will Mr. G. reconcile this to "the dignity of reason?" And even of the philosophic hero of Gibbon, the imperial apostate, that historian says, "A devout and sincere attachment to the Gods of Athens and Rome, constituted the ruling passion of Julian." Vol. 4, p. 63.

As, however, Mr. Gibbon has prudently avoided to name those sages for whom his panegyric is designed, the most unexceptionable test of its truth or falsehood, will be to examine how far the principles of Socrates, confessedly the most celebrated of the heathen illuminati for wisdom, and the only philosopher of antiquity who died a willing martyr to his creed, will answer to the standard of perfection thus set up.

The prosecution of Socrates is upon good ground believed to have originated more in political than religious motives, having by the freedom of his animadversions made himself obnoxious to the ruling powers. The accusation preferred by Melitus, was indeed in part political; but the success of the prosecution mainly depended upon the allegation of his depreciating the

Gods acknowledged by the state, and teaching novelties in religion. As Socrates refused any kind of concession, or apology, by which it is allowed that he might easily have saved his life, the sincerity of his confession cannot be questioned." Upon what foundation," said he in his defence," can it be alleged that I do not acknowledge the Gods of the republic, who have been often seen to sacrifice at my own house, as well as in the temples? Can it be doubted whether he uses divination, to whom it is imputed as a crime, that he believes himself favoured with divine suggestions?-Pass on me what sentence you please, I can neither repent or change my conduct.-At my age, and with the reputation, true or false, which I have acquired, would it be consistent in me, after all the lessons I have given on the contempt of death, to be afraid of it myself? and to belie, in my last action, all the principles and sentiments of my past life ?"

Far, however, from being disposed to renounce the radical dogmas of the popular creed, he declared that he had never sacrificed to, or acknowledged, or sworn by, or even made mention of any other gods than Jupiter, Juno, and others, who were received by his fellow-citizens. Do not I believe," said he, "that the sun and moon are gods? Do we not suppose demons, i. e. ætherial spirits, to be the offspring of Gods?" He strongly advised his friends to seek counsel of the gods, according to the antient and established modes, and by the medium of the inspired oracles of the country. He composed a hymn in the near prospect of death, to Apollo and Diana. His last mysterious direction was to sacrifice a cock to Esculapius; and though believing in a supreme deity, he was far from affirming him to be the only god; or indeed any other than the Olympian Jove, the absolute and undisputed sovereign of gods and men.

Among the numerous disciples of Socrates, the most distinguished names were those of Plato and Xenophon. Of Plato, it is indeed allowed" that he resigned his actions to the commands of law and custom." But as the laws and customs of Athens were upon the whole extremely tolerant, we have a sufficient opportunity of judging how far the real sentiments of that great genius were consonant to" the dignity of reason," and to what degree he was lost and bewildered in the wilds and

mazes

mazes of mysticism. "The Deity," says this philosophical visionary,"viewing in his own intellect the ideas or archetypes of all possible existence, forined the beautiful arrangement of the universe from that rude indigested matter, which existing from all eternity, had been for ever animated by an irregular principle of motion. Considering that beings possessed of mental powers are far preferable to those destitute of such faculties, the Deity infused into the corporeal world a rational soul; uniting it with the active but irrational principle essentially inherent in matter. Again contemplating the ideal forms in his own mind, he perceived there the exemplars of three species of beings, which he realized in the mortal inhabitants of earth, air, and water. The souls of men the Deity formed from the rational soul of the world. They first existed in the state of demons or atherial spirits, &c. &c." From this slight specimen of the reveries of this truly illustrious ancient, which would now rank with those of Behmen and Swedenborg, we may form an opinion how far Plato was entitled "to view with a smile of pity and indulgence the various errors of the vulgar."

In respect to Xenophon, it may suffice to refer to the very apposite, though in another view insidious, observations of Mr. Hume in his Essay on Natural Religion, (vol. 2, pp. 511, 46.)" Xenophon's conduct," says this acute writer, "as related by himself, is an incon testable proof of the general credulity of mankind in those ages. That great captain and philosopher, the disciple of Socrates, and one who has delivered some of the most refined sentiments, with regard to a deity, gave all the following marks of vulgar Pagan superstition: By Socrates' advice he consulted the Oracle of Delphi before he would engage in the expedition of Cyrus. The Greeks suffering from a cold north wind, sacrificed to it, and it im

mediately abated. He is determined by the victims to refuse the sole command of the army. He mentions the place of Hercules' descent into hell, and says the marks of it are still remaining, &c. &c.” Hume, however, has omitted the most remarkable, and indeed astonishing, instance of superstition and absurdity, recorded by Xenophon in the same admired work, with peculiar feelings of satisfaction and complacency.

At Athens there were two temples

dedicated to Jupiter; the one as Basileus, the king, the other as Meilichius, the preserver. On crossing the Hellespont to Lampsacus with the remains of the Cyreian army, he met, as he informs us,with an useful friend, Euclides, a Phliasian priest, deeply skilled in augury, who enquiring of his fortunes, was told that he had not even enough of money to convey him to Greece. Euclides asked "whether he had at any time sacrificed to the Meilichian Jupiter?" Xenophon acknowledged that he had not since he left Athens; though frequently to Basileus. Euclides then said, "the Meilichian Jupiter is an obstacle to you," and counselled him to offer an holocaust to that god, assuring him that it would be to his advantage. He did so, and the omens were favourable On a subsequent fortunate adventure, Xenophon exclaims, “This was the success promised at Lampsacus!" adding, with pious gratitude, "that he had now no reason to complain of Jupiter Meilichias." Were then these two Jupiters two different deities? and not merely to be worshipped as distinct gods, but jealous and envious rivals? Assuredly the force of folly could no farther go, and we are compelled to ask, whether Xenophon is or is not to be included in the number of those enlightened philosophers "who viewed with a smile of pity the errors of the vulgar, while he asserted the independent dignity of reason?" If included, how is the pride of philosophy humbled! if excluded, where will Mr. G. find his boasted sages and philosophers? In a word, the high flown tirade of Mr. G. which he delivers in a tone as decisive and arrogant as if it were "Crowner's Quest Law," is not only unsupported by a shadow of evidence, but contradicted and confuted by every existing memorial. M. M.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

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causes our paper (that of printing in particular) to become diminished in that essential quality for strength which it formerly possessed. It is astonishing after a few years wear, what a shabby, disreputable appearance our modern publications carry; the weakness and spongy quality of the paper is such that the fastenings of the bookbinders in boards become speedily detached, owing to the absolute premature decay in this material. The works of Mackensie, Dr. Moore, and hundreds of other cotemporary authors, which are offered to our notice at bookshops, appear like young men who have abused the stamina of their constitutions by gaieties and intemperance, whereas our prior, old fashioned authors, such as Addison, Steele, Young, &c. appear before us in the birth day suit of their muses, properly apparelled—that is, in good condition, like the man of moderate propensities, who preserves, by not tampering with his physical powers, the full measure of his bodily strength. The primitive, or leading cause, which has forced upon this country such an inferior mass of paper, both for printing and writing, may be justly traced to the heavy imposts which government has inconsiderately laid upon the article. The duty upon common and middling quality printing and writing paper bears a proportion (at 3d per lb.) of from 30 to 35 per cent. of the market value; this is an entailment of money weight upon the same, which the profits of the paper maker is unable fairly to sustain; hence arises every one of

* To corroborate my assertion, I have a book in the black letter, printed in the reign of Henry the Eighth, entitled "on the Use and Profits of Histories," the paper of which, near 300 years old, is of so firm a texture, that it rattles almost similar to a thin vellum.

those numerous modern impositions, viz. the attempting by ingenious contrivances, a substitution for intrinsic reality, and which is running through every fibre of manufacturing business at the present period. Another cause of the falling off of the good qualities in the papers I have before alluded to, arises from the now general introduction and working up of German and Italian rags in this business, instead of English ones, which being altogether coarse, bad coloured, weak, sea damaged, &c. will naturally only produce paper of the same defective characters; to throw an inviting face upon such an article when manufactured, recourse is had to the deleterious mixture of bleaching ashes, whitening by means of retorts, loading the engine with plaster of Paris, and other trash, to increase its quantity of weight, and which occasions the cracking in paper so complained of, besides another now common compo

nent mixture of old and new book

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binder's cuttings, thus tending also altogether to increase the reputation of paper making in the same manner as the striving gentry about Leeds and Halifax, &c. add to the wearing goodness of their waistcoat pieces, and broad cloth, by working up from the London depôts of Rosemary Lane, &c. and its precincts, all the second-hand blankets, and worn kerseymeres which the worthy Londoners are kind enough to send the "honest Yorkshiremen."+

E.S.

I just advert to the increased consumption of cotton rags, which create a wiriness in the paper especially discernible when recourse is had to scratching out.

† Articles of machinery called breakers for the purpose of separating the bodies of old woollen, and afterwards retwisting the yarns, are now fitting up in most parts of this great manufacturing district of Eng

land.

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What fingers brace the tender nerves?
The twisting fibres spin?
Who clothes in flesh the hard'ning bone,
And weaves the silken skin?

Whence learnt the liver to digest
The silver floods of chyle?
And in the jaundic'd gall, confine
The saffron-colour'd bile?

Who taught the wand'ring tides of blood
To leave the vital urn,

Visit each limb in purple streams,

And faithfully return?

How know the lungs to heave and pant, And how the fringed lid

To guard the fearful eye, or brush

The sullied ball unbid?

How know the nerves their active power,
The hinged limbs to wield?

The tongue ten thousand tastes discern-
Ten thousand accents yield?
How delicate the winding ear,

To image every sound;

The eyes, to catch the pleasing view,
And tell the scenes around.

Why chanc'd the head and tender heart,

Life's more immediate throne,

Where fatal every touch-to dwell

Immail'd in solid bone?

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By whom I feel unknown delight,
And drink the golden day?
"Gay are the sunny plains-how fair
Each torrent of the shade;

And something whispers me within,
'All these for thee were made.'
"What Parent Power, all great, all good,
Do these around me own?

Tell me, fair creatures, tell me how
T'adore the vast Unknown;

"Who gives the wond'rous tongue to sound,

The wond'rous eye to see; Who gives the amazing thought to soar, The amazing soul to be."

THE CHIME BELLS OF MERIDEN.
On hearing them at Midnight.
BY DR. BOOKER, OF COVENTRY.
WHAT tuneful sounds are those I hear,
Warbling so soft, so sweet, so clear?
"Tis not the night-bird's dulcet lay,
That carols in the merry May;
But floating down the lovely glen,

'Tis the sweet bells of Meriden.

Like spell-bound wight in a mour'd hall,

I, listening, heard the waterfall;

And while the sleeping winds were still
In yonder wood, on yonder hill,

Who taught the babe new launch'd in life, The turret clock struck twelve, and then

The milky draught t'arrest,

Or with the eager fingers press
The nectar-streaming breast?

Or who, with love too big for words,
The mother's bosom warms,
Along the rugged paths of life
To bear it in her arms?

A GOD! A GOD! Creation shouts,
A God! each insect cries;
He moulded in his palm the earth,
And hung it on the skies.

"Let us make man," O voice divine,
"And stamp a God on clay
To govern nature's humbler births,
And bear an earthly sway,"

:

He said with strength and beauty clad, Young health in ev'ry vein,

With thought enthron'd upon his brow, Walks forth majestic man.

Around he turns his wond'ring eyes,

All nature's works surveys,
Admires the earth, himself, the skies,
And tries his tongue in praise.
"Ye hills, ye vales, ye meads and woods,
Bright sun and glittering stream;
Fair creatures! tell me if you know
From whence and what I am?

"What Parent Power, all great, all good,
Do these around me own?
Tell me, fair creatures, tell me how
T'adore the vast Unknown:

"By whom you cross the flowing field,
Or through the forest stray:

Chim'd the sweet bells of Meriden.
Ye who for pleasure idly roam,
And wish to find an inn a home,
When shuts the live-long summer's day,
Hither repair, and welcom'd, stay
To hear, in this delightsome glen
The soft, sweet bells of Meriden.
Meriden Inn, May 18, 1821.

THE HERO FLOGGED.
I PASS'D the warrior's dwelling
I heard a dreadful moan,
It was a mortal's yelling-
It was a soldier's groan!
Tied, pinion'd, stripp'd,
And naked whipp'd,

Each horrid, agonizing roar
Was follow'd by a stream of gore!

The cry of mercy vain,

Was wafted by the breeze,
Nor could extremest pain

The tyrant's wrath appease!
Mute, and transfix'd I stood
Beholding this scene of blood-
Officers rang'd around,
Carelessly saw each wound,
Smiling as 'twere a joke
After each bloody stroke!
Nor did they drink the less,
Nor sad appear at mess.
Scarlet, feathers, and lace
Glitter'd around the place.
Callous are they!
The ball, the play,

The

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