of forty years. Thus digested however, and communicated with the
nicest art and the most fervid eloquence, he had the
mortification to find his converts, at the end of three years,
amount to no more than forty persons. But the ardour of this
hero was invincible, and his success was finally adequate to his
wishes. Previous to the famous aera of his flight from Mecca, he
had taught his followers, that they had no defence against the
persecution of their enemies, but invincible patience. But the
opposition he encountered obliged him to change his maxims. He
now inculcated the duty of extirpating the enemies of God, and
held forth the powerful allurements of conquest and plunder.
With these he united the theological dogma of predestination,
and the infallible promise of paradise to such as met their fate
in the field of war. By these methods he trained an intrepid and
continually increasing army, inflamed with enthusiasm, and
greedy of death. He prepared them for the most arduous
undertakings, by continual attacks upon travelling caravans and
scattered villages: a pursuit, which, though perfectly consonant
with the institutions of his ancestors, painted him to the
civilized nations of Europe in the obnoxious character of a
robber. By degrees however, he proceeded to the greatest
enterprizes; and compelled the whole peninsula of Arabia to
confess his authority as a prince, and his mission as a prophet.
He died, like the Grecian Philip, in the moment, when having
brought his native country to co-operate in one undertaking, he
meditated the invasion of distant climates, and the destruction
of empires.
"The character of Mahomet however was exceeding different from
that of Philip, and far more worthy of the attention of a
philosopher. Philip was a mere politician, who employed the
cunning of a statesman, and the revenues of a prince, in the
corruption of a number of fallen and effeminate republics. But
Mahomet, without riches, without rank, without education, by the
mere ascendancy of his abilities, subjected by persuasion and
force a simple and generous nation that had never been
conquered; and laid the foundation of an empire, that extended
over half the globe; and a religion, capable of surviving the
fate of empires. His schemes were always laid with the truest
wisdom. He lived among a people celebrated for subtlety and
genius: he never laid himself open to detection. His eloquence
was specious, dignified, and persuasive. And he blended with it
a lofty enthusiasm, that awed those, whom familiarity might have
emboldened, and silenced his enemies. He was simple of
demeanour, and ostentatious of munificence. And under these
plausible virtues he screened the indulgence of his
constitutional propensities. The number of his concubines and
his wives has been ambitiously celebrated by Christian writers.
He sometimes acquired them by violence and injustice; and he
frequently dismissed them without ceremony. His temper does not
seem to have been naturally cruel. But we may trace in his
conduct the features of a barbarian; and a part of his severity
may reasonably be ascribed to the plan of religious conquest
that he adopted, and that can never be reconciled with the
rights of humanity."
After the victories of Omar, and the other successors of Mahomet had in
a manner stripped the court of Constantinople of all its provinces, the
Byzantine history dwindles into an object petty and minute. In order to
vary the scene, and enhance the dignity of his subject, the author
occasionally takes a prospect of the state of Rome and Italy, under the
contending powers of the papacy and the new empire of the West. When the
singular and unparalleled object of the Crusades presents itself, the
historian embraces the illustrious scene with apparent eagerness, and
bestows upon it a greater enlargement than might perhaps have been
expected from the nature of his subject; but not greater, we confidently
believe, than is calculated to increase the pleasure, that a reader of
philosophy and taste may derive from the perusal. As the immortal
Saladin is one of the most distinguished personages in this story, we
have selected his character, as a specimen of this part of the work.
"No sooner however was the virtuous Noureddin removed by death,
than the Christians of the East had their attention still more
forcibly alarmed by the progress of the invincible Saladin. He
had possessed himself of the government of Egypt; first, under
the modest appellation of vizier, and then, with the more august
title of soldan. He abolished the dynasty of the Fatemite
khalifs. Though Noureddin had been the patron of his family, and
the father of his fortunes, yet was that hero no sooner expired,
than he invaded the territories of his young and unwarlike
successor. He conquered the fertile and populous province of
Syria. He compelled the saheb of Mawsel to do him homage. The
princes of the Franks already trembled for their possessions,
and prepared a new and more solemn embassy, to demand the
necessary succours of their European brethren.
"The qualities of Saladin were gilded with the lustre of
conquest; and it has been the singular fortune of this Moslem
hero, to be painted in fairer colours by the discordant and
astonished Christians, than by those of his own courtiers and
countrymen, who may reasonably be supposed to have known him
best. He has been compared with Alexander; and tho' he be
usually stiled, and with some justice, a barbarian, it does not
appear that his character would suffer in the comparison. His
conquests were equally splendid; nor did he lead the forces of a
brave and generous people, against a nation depressed by
slavery, and relaxed with effeminacy. Under his banner Saracen
encountered Saracen in equal strife; or the forces of the East
were engaged with the firmer and more disciplined armies of the
West. Like Alexander, he was liberal to profusion; and while all
he possessed seemed the property of his friends, the monarch
himself often wanted that, which with unstinted hand he had
heaped upon his favourites and dependents. His sentiments were
elevated, his manners polite and insinuating, and the affability
of his temper was never subdued.
"But the parallel is exceedingly far from entire. He possessed
not the romantic gallantry of the conqueror of Darius; he had
none of those ardent and ungovernable passions, through whose
medium the victories of Arbela and Issus had transformed the
generous hero into the lawless tyrant. It was a maxim to which
he uniformly adhered, to accomplish his lofty designs by policy
and intrigue, and to leave as little as possible to the unknown
caprice of fortune. In his mature age he was temperate, gentle,
patient. The passions of his soul, and the necessities of nature
were subordinate to the equanimity of his character[A]. His
deportment was grave and thoughtful; his religion sincere and
enthusiastic. He was ignorant of letters, and despised all
learning, that was not theological. The cultivation, that had
obtained under the khalifs, had not entirely civilized the
genius of Saladin. His maxims of war were indeed the maxims of
the age, and ought not to be adopted as a particular imputation.
But the action of his striking off with his own hand the head of
a Christian prince, who had attacked the defenceless caravan of
the pilgrims of Mecca, exhibits to our view all the features of
a fierce and untutored barbarian[B] ."
[Footnote A: Bohaoddin, p. 71. He was an eye witness, and had a
considerable share in many of the transactions of Saladin. He is
generally accurate, and tolerably impartial. ]
[Footnote B: Ebn Shohnah, Heg. 589. Abulfarai, Renaudot, p. 243.
D'Herbelot, biblioth. orient. art. Togrul, &c. ]
As the whole of this excellent work is now before us, it may not be
impertinent, before we finally take our leave of it, to attempt an idea
of its celebrated author. We are happy in this place to declare our
opinion, that no author ever better obeyed the precept of Horace and
Boileau, in choosing a subject nicely correspondent to the talents he
possessed. The character of this writer, patient yet elegant, accurate
in enquiry, acute in reflexion, was peculiarly calculated to trace the
flow and imperceptible decline of empire, and to throw light upon a
period, darkened by the barbarism of its heroes, and the confused and
narrow genius of its authors. In a word, we need not fear to class the
performance with those that shall do lasting, perhaps immortal, honour,
to the country by which they have been produced.
But like many other works of this elevated description, the time shall
certainly come, when the history before us shall no longer be found, but
in the libraries of the learned, and the cabinets of the curious. At
present it is equally sought by old and young, the learned and
unlearned, the macaroni, the peer, and the fine lady, as well as the
student and scholar. But this is to be ascribed to the rage of fashion.
The performance is not naturally calculated for general acceptance. It
is, by the very tenor of the subject, interspersed with a thousand
minute and elaborate investigations, which, in spite of perspicuous
method, and classical allusion, will deter the idle, and affright the
gay.
Nor can we avoid ascribing the undistinguishing and extravagant
applause, that has been bestowed upon the style, to the same source of
fashion, the rank, the fortune, the connexions of the writer. It is
indeed loaded with epithets, and crowded with allusions. But though the
style be often raised, the thoughts are always calm, equal, and rigidly
classic. The language is full of art, but perfectly exempt from fire.
Learning, penetration, accuracy, polish; any thing is rather the
characteristic of the historian, than the flow of eloquence, and the
flame of genius. Far therefore from classing him in this respect with
such writers as the immortal Hume, who have perhaps carried the English
language to the highest perfection it is capable of reaching; we are
inclined to rank him below Dr. Johnson, though we are by no means
insensible to the splendid faults of that admirable writer.
One word perhaps ought to be said respecting Mr. Gibbon's treatment of
Christianity. His wit is indeed by no means uniformly happy; as where
for instance, he tells us, that the name of _Le Boeuf_ is remarkably
apposite to the character of that antiquarian; or where, speaking of the
indefatigable diligence of Tillemont, he informs us, that "the patient
and sure-footed mule of the Alps may be trusted in the most slippery
paths." But allowing every thing for the happiness of his irony, and
setting aside our private sentiments respecting the justice of its
application, we cannot help thinking it absolutely incompatible, with
the laws of history. For our own part, we honestly confess, that we have
met with more than one passage, that has puzzled us whether it ought to
be understood in jest or earnest. The irony of a single word he must be
a churl who would condemn; but the continuance of this figure in serious
composition, throws truth and falsehood, right and wrong into
inextricable perplexity.
ARTICLE II.
THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. BY WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D.D.&C. VOLS. III, IV.
4TO.
The expectation of almost all ranks has been as much excited by the
present performance, as perhaps by almost any publication in the records
of literature. The press has scarcely been able to keep pace with the
eagerness of the public, and the third edition is already announced,
before we have been able to gratify our readers with an account of this
interesting work. For a great historian to adventure an established name
upon so recent and arduous a subject, is an instance that has scarcely
occurred. Reports were sometime ago industriously propagated that Dr.
Robertson had turned his attention to a very different subject, and even
when it was generally known that the present work was upon the eve of
publication, it was still questioned by many, whether a writer, so
celebrated for prudence, had not declined the more recent part of the
North American history. The motives of his conduct upon this head as
they are stated in the preface, we shall here lay before our readers.
"But neither the history of Portuguese America, nor the early history of
our own settlements, have constituted the most arduous part of the
present publication. The revolution, which, unfortunately for this
country, hath recently taken place in the British colonies, hath excited
the most general attention, at the same time that it hath rendered the
gratification of public curiosity a matter of as much delicacy as
necessity. Could this event have been foreseen by me, I should perhaps
have been more cautious of entering into engagements with the public. To
embark upon a subject, respecting which the sentiments of my countrymen
have been so much divided, and the hand of time hath not yet collected
the verdicts of mankind; while the persons, to whose lot it hath fallen
to act the principal parts upon the scene, are almost all living; is a
task that prudence might perhaps refuse, and modesty decline. But
circumstanced as I was, I have chosen rather to consider these
peculiarities as pleas for the candour of my readers, than as motives to
withdraw myself from so important an undertaking. I should ill deserve
the indulgence I have experienced from the public, were I capable of
withdrawing from a task by which their curiosity might be gratified,
from any private inducements of inconvenience or difficulty."
We have already said, and the reader will have frequent occasion to
recollect it, that we by no means generally intend an analysis of the
several works that may come before us. In the present instance, we do
not apprehend that we shall lay ourselves open to much blame, by passing
over in silence the discoveries of Vespusius, and the conquests of
Baretto; and laying before our readers some extracts from the history of
the late war. It is impossible not to remark that the subject is treated
with much caution, and that, though the sentiments of a royalist be
every where conspicuous, they are those of a royalist, moderated by
misfortune and defeat.
The following is Dr. Robertson's account of the declaration of
independence.
"It is by this time sufficiently visible, that the men, who took
upon themselves to be most active in directing the American
counsels, were men of deep design and extensive ambition, who by
no means confined their views to the redress of those grievances
of which they complained, and which served them for instruments
in the pursuit of objects less popular and specious. By degrees
they sought to undermine the allegiance, and dissolve the ties,
which connected the colonies with the parent country of Britain.
Every step that was taken by her ministry to restore tranquility
to the empire, was artfully misrepresented by the zealots of
faction. Every unguarded expression, or unfortunate measure of
irritation was exaggerated by leaders, who considered their own
honour and dignity as inseparable from further advances, and
predicted treachery and insult as the consequences of
retreating. They now imagined they had met with a favourable
opportunity for proceeding to extremities. Their influence was
greatest in the general congress, and by their means a circular
manifesto was issued by that assembly intended to ascertain the
disposition of the several colonies respecting a declaration of
independence.
"They called their countrymen to witness how real had been their
grievances, and how moderate their claims. They said, it was
impossible to have proceeded with more temper or greater
deliberation, but that their complaints had been constantly
superseded, their petitions to the throne rejected. The
administration of Great Britain had not hesitated to attempt to
starve them into surrender, and having miscarried in this, they
were ready to employ the whole force of their country, with all
the foreign auxiliaries they could obtain, in prosecution of
their unjust and tyrannical purposes. They were precipitated, it
was said, by Britain into a state of hostility, and there no
longer remained for them a liberty of choice. They must either
throw down their arms, and expect the clemency of men who had
acted as the enemies of their rights; or they must consider
themselves as in a state of warfare, and abide by the
consequences of that state. Warfare involved independency.
Without this their efforts must be irregular, feeble, and
without all prospect of success; they could possess no power to
suppress mutinies, or to punish conspiracies; nor could they
expect countenance and support from any of the states of Europe,
however they might be inclined to favour them, while they
acknowledged themselves to be subjects, and it was uncertain how
soon they might sacrifice their friends and allies to the hopes
of a reunion. To look back, they were told, to the king of
England, after all the insults they had experienced, and the
hostilities that were begun, would be the height of
pusillanimity and weakness. They were bid to think a little for
their posterity, who by the irreversible laws of nature and
situation, could have no alternative left them but to be slaves
or independent. Finally, many subtle reasonings were alledged,
to evince the advantages they must derive from intrinsic
legislation, and general commerce.
"On the other hand, the middle and temperate party, represented
this step as unnecessary, uncertain in its benefits, and
irretrievable in its consequences. They expatiated on the
advantages that had long been experienced by the colonists from
the fostering care of Great Britain, the generosity of the
efforts she had made to protect them, and the happiness they had
known under her auspicious patronage. They represented their
doubt of the ability of the colonies to defend themselves
without her alliance. They stated the necessity of a common
superior to balance the separate and discordant interests of the
different provinces. They dwelt upon the miseries of an internal
and doubtful struggle. Determined never to depart from the
assertion of what they considered as their indefeasible right,
they would incessantly besiege the throne with their humble
remonstrances. They would seek the clemency of England, rather
than the alliance of those powers, whom they conceived to be the
real enemies of both; nor would they ever be accessory to the
shutting up the door of reconciliation.
"But the voice of moderation is seldom heard amidst the
turbulence of civil dissention. Violent counsels prevailed. The
decisive and irrevocable step was made on the 4th of July 1776.
It remains with posterity to decide upon its merits. Since that
time it has indeed received the sanction of military success;
but whatever consequences it may produce to America, the fatal
day must ever be regretted by every sincere friend to the
British empire."
The other extract we shall select is from the story of Lord Cornwallis's
surrender in Virginia, and the consequent termination of the American
war.
"The loss of these redoubts may be considered as deciding the
fate of the British troops. The post was indeed originally so
weak and insufficient to resist the force that attacked it, that
nothing but the assured expectation of relief from the garrison
of New York, could have induced the commander to undertake its
defence, and calmly to wait the approaches of the enemy. An
officer of so unquestionable gallantry would, rather have
hazarded an encounter in the field, and trusted his adventure to
the decision of fortune, than by cooping his army in so
inadequate a fortress, to have prepared for them inevitable
misfortune and disgrace. But with the expectations he had been
induced to form, he did not think himself justified in having
recourse to desperate expedients.
"These hopes were now at an end. The enemy had already silenced
his batteries. Nothing remained to hinder them from completing
their second parallel, three hundred yards nearer to the
besieged than the first. His lordship had received no
intelligence of the approach of succours, and a probability did
not remain that he could defend his station till such time as he
could expect their arrival. Thus circumstanced, with the
magnanimity peculiar to him, he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, to
acquaint him with the posture of his affairs, and to recommend
to the fleet and the army that they should not make any great
risk in endeavouring to extricate them.
"But although he regarded his situation as hopeless, he did not
neglect any effort becoming a general, to lengthen the siege,
and procrastinate the necessity of a surrender, if it was
impossible finally to prevent it. The number of his troops
seemed scarcely sufficient to countenance a considerable sally,
but the emergency was so critical, that he ordered about three
hundred and fifty men, on the morning of the 16th, to attack the
batteries that appeared to be in the greatest forwardness, and
to spike their guns. The assault was impetuous and successful.
But either from their having executed the business upon which
they were sent in a hasty and imperfect manner, or from the
activity and industry of the enemy, the damage was repaired, and
the batteries completed before evening.
"One choice only remained. To carry the troops across to
Gloucester Point, and make one last effort to escape. Boats were
accordingly prepared, and at ten o'clock at night the army began
to embark. The first embarkation arrived in safety. The greater
part of the troops were already landed. At this critical moment
of hope and apprehension, of expectation and danger, the
weather, which had hitherto been moderate and calm, suddenly
changed; the sky was clouded, the wind rose and a violent storm
ensued. The boats with the remaining troops were borne down the
stream. To complete the anxiety and danger, the batteries of the
enemy were opened, the day dawned, and their efforts were
directed against the northern shore of the river. Nothing could
be hoped, but the escape of the boats, and the safety of the
troops. They were brought back without much loss, and every
thing was replaced in its former situation.
"Every thing now verged to the dreaded crisis. The fire of the
besiegers was heavy and unintermitted. The British could not
return a gun, and the shells, their last resource, were nearly
exhausted. They were themselves worn down with sickness and
continual watching. A few hours it appeared must infallibly
decide their fate. And if any thing were still wanting, the
French ships which had entered the mouth of the river, seemed
prepared to second the general assault on their side. In this
situation, lord Cornwallis, not less calm and humane, than he
was intrepid, chose not to sacrifice the lives of so many brave
men to a point of honour, but the same day proposed to general
Washington a cessation of twenty four hours, in order mutually
to adjust the terms of capitulation.
"The troops which surrendered in the posts of York and
Gloucester amounted to between five and six thousand men, but
there were not above three thousand eight hundred of these in a
capacity for actual service. They were all obliged to become
prisoners of war. Fifteen hundred seamen were included in the
capitulation. The commander, unable to obtain terms for the
loyal Americans, was obliged to have recourse to a sloop,
appointed to carry his dispatches, and which he stipulated
should pass unsearched, to convey them to New York. The British
fleet and army arrived off the Chesapeak five days after the
surrender. Having learned the melancholy fate of their
countrymen, they were obliged to return, without effecting any
thing, to their former station.
"Such was the catastrophe of an army, that in intrepidity of
exertion, and the patient endurance of the most mortifying
reverses, are scarcely to be equalled by any thing that is to be
met with in history. The applause they have received
undiminished by their subsequent misfortunes, should teach us to
exclaim less upon the precariousness of fame, and animate us
with the assurance that heroism and constancy can never be
wholly disappointed of their reward."
The publication before us is written with that laudable industry, which
ought ever to distinguish a great historian. The author appears to have
had access to some of the best sources of information; and has
frequently thrown that light upon a recent story, which is seldom to be
expected, but from the developements of time, and the researches of
progressive generations.