from the beginning to the end of the work before us; and though we conceive it to have been pursued with far too sanguine and assured a spirit, and to have led in this way to most of what is rash and questionable in her conclusions, it is impossible to doubt that it has also helped her to many explanations that are equally solid and ingenious, and thrown a light upon many phenomena that would otherwise have appeared very dark and unaccountable."

In the same sentence the doctrine is true, and it is not true. If it throws so much light, affords so many explanations, both solid and ingenious, one is at least left in some degree of doubt whether the critic will proceed to advocate it or not. This doubt, however, is afterwards set at rest. "The introduction ends with an eloquent profession of the author's unshaken faith in the philosophical creed of Perfectibility-upon which, as it does not happen to be our creed, and is very frequently brought into notice in the course of the work, we must here be indulged with a few preliminary observations."

He

Now, we are not about to argue in favour of this creed-we have only to notice the manner in which our Whig philosopher and reforming politician reasons upon the subject. first-in a passage which we have some pleasure in quoting, as it affords a favourable illustration of his easy and agreeable style of writing-points to the stationary condition of some countries, and the retrograde movement which has taken place in others.

"The first thing that occurs to a soberminded listener to this dream of Perfectibility, is the extreme narrowness of the induction from which these sweeping conclusions are so confidently deduced. A progress that is in its own nature infinite and irresistible must necessarily have been both universal and unremitting; and yet the evidence of its existence is founded, if we do not deceive ourselves, upon the history of a very small portion of the human race, for a very small number of generations. The proposition is, that the human species is advancing, and has always been advancing, to a state of perfection by a law of their nature, of the existence of which their past history and present state leave no room to doubt. But when we cast a glance upon this high destined species, we find this neces

sary and eternal progress scarcely begun, even now, in the old inhabited continent of Africa-stationary, as far back as our information reaches, in China-and retrograde for a period of at least twelve centuries, and up to this day, in Egypt, India, Persia, and Greece. Even in our own Europe, which contains probably less than one tenth part of our kind, it is admitted that for upwards of a thousand years this great work of moral nature not only stood still, but went visibly backwards over its fairest regions; and though there has been a prodigious progress in England, and France, and Germany, during the whether anything of the sort may be said last two hundred years, it may be doubted of Spain or Italy-or various other portions even of this favoured quarter of the world. It may be very natural for Madame de Stael, or for us, looking only to what has happened in our own world, and in our own times, to indulge in those dazzling views of the unbounded and universal improvement of the human race. But such speculations would appear rather wild, we suspect, to those whose lot it is to philosophise among the unchanging nations of Asia; and would probably carry even something of ridicule with them, if propounded upon the ruins of Thebes or Babylon, or even among the profaned relics of Athens or Rome."(Vol. i. p. 89.)

Madame de Stael could have answered immediately, that, in the large views it is necessary to take on this subject, mankind are one; this or that nation may have advanced or receded; -the question is, What has humanity gained? The spot of earth on which Rome or Athens stood may be inhabited by a population inferior in some respects though only in some respects to those who lived there in the time of Julius Cæsar, or of Pericles; but on other spots-at Paris, at London,at Edinburgh-there are great cities in which every species of human knowledge has been carried to a state far nearer to perfection than in the most palmy days of antiquity. And, what is of equal importance to consider, that portion of the earth, or of its inhabitants, which is embraced under the title of the civilised world, afford to lose sight of Thebes, and of has immeasurably extended. We can Babylon, when we think of Russia and America-of the vast tracts of country either peopled by savages, or not peopled at all, which are becoming the

walking patiently, humbly, and passively in the paths that have been traced by others, are the very habits that disqualify us for vigorous and independent excursions of our own."

How full is a passage like this-and passages of this kind are frequent in Jeffrey's writings-of the mere appearance of reason, of mere careless plausibility! What man of science ever yet felt that the more he knew the less remained to be discovered? The very reverse is the impression. He feels that, just as he enlarges the circle of his knowledge, does he extend that tantalising boundary between the known and the unknown. There is always an infinity before and around him; and by enlarging that finite circle in which he stands, he has also enlarged his conceptions of the infinite beyond it. And who ever found that the task of learning what had been discovered by others unfitted him for making new discoveries himself? And as to this objection, that there is so much time expended in learning what our predecessors have bequeathed us - an objection which, as his manner is, he first urges and then retracts-it is quite plain that our methods of tuition have improved with the science we have to teach. There is no branch of science

to which so many accessions of knowledge have been made as that of chemistry; but a pupil will sooner learn the science now, up to the last discovery of Faraday, than two centuries ago he could have acquired that mixture of truth and fable which passed under the name of alchemy. In proportion as a science has advanced, is it capable of being clearly and expeditiously taught. And we see every day, that, if the number of tyros and of students is multiplied, the number of ardent discoverers is increased in a corresponding ratio.

:

"Men learn," he says, "instead of reasoning instead of meditating, they remember; and in the place of the glow of inventive genius, or the warmth of a generous admiration, nothing is to be met with in society but timidity on the one hand, and fastidiousness on the other." Perhaps he cast here the shadow of his own mind over the society he was estimating and describing. "The truth is," he

very desperately concludes, "we suspect that the vast and enduring products of the virgin soil can no longer be reared in that factitious mould to which cultivation has since given existence; and that its forced and deciduous progeny will go on degenerating, till some new deluge shall restore the vigour of the globe by a temporary destruction of all its generations." Nay, a few pages before, there occurs a still more gloomy passage: we hardly recognise the light and buoyant pen of Jeffrey in the few following sentences. He seems to have borrowed the misanthropy of Byron, or the satire of Mandeville. He says, "It is knowledge that destroys enthusiasm, and dispels all those prejudices of admiration which people simpler minds with so many idols of enchantment. It is knowledge that distracts by its variety, and satiates by its abundance, and generates by its communication that dark and cold spirit of fastidiousness and derision, which revenges, on those whom it possesses, the pangs which it inflicts on those on whom it is exerted!"

Nor are sentiments of this character expressed only on one occasion; we meet with them frequently, more or less darkly shaded. In the same volume, in a review on Grimm's Correspondence-which also has evidently been a favourite subject-we meet with the same train of thought. He says, for instance

"One of the most remarkable passages in this philosophical journal is that which contains the author's estimate of the advantages and disadvantages of philosophy. Not being much more of an optimist than ourselves, M. Grimm thinks that good and evil are pretty fairly distributed to the different generations of men; and that, if an age of philosophy be happier in some respects than one of ignorance and prejudice, there are particulars in which it is not so fortunate.

Philosophy, he thinks, is the necessary fruit of a certain experience, and a certain maturity; and implies, in nations as well as individuals, the extinction of some of the pleasures as well as the follies of early life. All nations, he observes, have begun with poetry, and ended with philosophy, or rather have passed through the region of philosophy on their way to that of stupidity and dotage."

What, we naturally ask ourselves, had a mind of this temper and cast of thought to do with the movement party in the state? Its place was in the ranks of safe and even timid Conservatism. But, in truth, all that Jeffrey had willingly to do with these great subjects was to talk of them; to talk much and well was the business of his life ;-he would never willingly have acted, or proceeded from discourse to the real measure. When estimating the conduct of those who brought about and conducted the French Revolution, it is amusing to notice how great a latitude he gives the writer-how heavy a responsibility he throws upon the legislator. The usual rules of ethical reasoning are set aside, that the man' of words may have free scope. After excusing the "philosophers of the French Revolution, he proceeds to say-"For those who, with intentions equally blameless, attempted to carry into execution the projects which had been suggested by the others, and actually engaged in measures which could not fail to terminate in important changes, it will not be easy, we are afraid, to make so satisfactory an apology." If those who legislated had "intentions equally blameless," we do not see that they were more morally culpable than those who prompted and dictated their legislation. Whether a man advises measures, or assists in carrying them, whether he writes or votes, must depend merely upon his position. The same man who has honestly and perseveringly advocated any measure of legislation, would assuredly promote it by his voice in the legislature, if you give him a voice. The earnest writer is on the same level with the carnest agent. The only real distinction that the case admits of is this, that loose and careless talking, not being so pernicious as inconsiderate action, cannot be visited with so severe a censure. To the benefit of this reflection all reviewers and essay writers are certainly entitled.

We resume the thread of the biography.

Neither the celebrity nor the occupation which the Review brought to its editor, diverted him from the pursuit of his profession. For this prudent conduct he is much applauded

by his present biographer. We have no wish to dispute the justice of this commendation. But if law is truly said to be a jealous mistress, literature is not less exacting. In the attempt to unite the two characters, it is not the lawyer that suffers most, it is the writer and the thinker. Jeffrey could edit his Review, and still master and retain sufficient legal knowledge for all the emergencies of his profession; but he could not practise that profession, and lead the life of an eminent barrister, and acquire or preserve the habits of conscientious study, of high and independent thinking, which the literary man ought to possess. For him, or for his friends, it might have been far preferable that he should rise through legal to political honours, and finally retire to the dignity of the Bench, than that he should have written better essays, and exerted a nobler influence on the literature of his country. We have only to remark that, in this and in other cases, when a man is congratulated on successfully combining the two professions of letters and of law, the success is achieved by the sacrifice of the higher character to the lower- of the more noble aims of life to the less noble.

Jeffrey's practice steadily increased; but his rising prosperity was cruelly counterbalanced by a domestic affliction-the loss of his wife, who died in August 1805. This loss he seems to have felt very severely; and though he rallied sufficiently to marry again, and even to sail to America in search of a wife, it is evident that, for some time, it cast a gloom over his spirits. The effect upon his mind was concealed from all but his most intimate friends; but in a letter to one of the oldest of themto Horner-he reveals very touchingly the utter indifference to life which this bereavement had produced.

We have alluded more particularly to this incident, because, although the biographer does not connect the two facts, we cannot but see a very close relation between the state of mind occasioned by the loss of his wife, and the next conspicuous event which occurs in the life of Jeffrey. We allude to his duel with Moore the poet, and that on the most frivolous of all

grounds. The poet thought that a personal offence was intended in the severity of the critic; and the critic refused to appease his anger, by assuring him that no such personal offence was meant, and that he merely reviewed his book and castigated its immoralities. When all was overthe duel having been prevented-Jeffrey freely gives him this assurance, which, he says, "I was ready to have done at the beginning, if he had applied amicably." The anger of the irritated poet it is easy to comprehend; but it is not easy to understand why the critic should have risked his life, rather than return an answer which truth, as well as courtesy, required. We think we see the explanation in the mere date of the Occurrence. The event happened at a time when he was still suffering, in secret, from a morbid indifference to life. The challenge came upon him when he was in this unhappy frame of mind: he gave himself no trouble to reflect how far it was necessary or rational to accept it, but felt rather disposed to court than to avoid the risk that it threatened to his life.

As an incident characteristic of the age, it will in future times wear a very curious aspect. A critic, in the interest of morality, censures a too amorous poet. The poet is in great wrath-imputes this, imputes that; the indignant moralist will answer not a word. The two meet with pistols at Chalk Farm, and, when interrupted by the police, contemplate going over to Hamburg. A more absurd business it is impossible to conceive.

The second marriage of Jeffrey obliged him to take a voyage to America; or rather, if we understand the narrative, his own indecision led to this result. Miss Wilkes had been residing with some friends at Edinburgh, but her father was a banker in New York a nephew of the celebrated John Wilkes. He allowed her to return to America, and then discovered that the strength of his affection was such as to make it quite necessary that he should follow to bring her back. We will copy the account which Lord Cockburn has given of the matter:

"His acquaintance with Miss Wilkes had ripened into a permanent attachment,

which it was at one time thought would have ended in a marriage in England. Her father was an Englishman, but had been several years resident in America; and when his daughter was here, there was a scheme of their all returning to settle in this country. This plan had

been given up, however; and the bride being established again on the other side of the Atlantic, it became necessary that he should earn her by going there. Accordingly, in spring 1813, he actually resolved to do so-what may be considered one of the greatest achievements of love. For of all strong-minded men, there never was one who, from what he deemed a just estimate of its dangers, but in truth from mere nervous horror, recoiled with such sincerity from all watery adventures. No matter whether it was a sea that was to be crossed, or a lake, or a stream, or a pond; it was enough that he had to be afloat. The discomforts of a voyage to America in 1813, before steam had shortened the way, and relieved it by every luxury enjoyable by a landsman at sea, were very great. To these were added the more material dangers connected with the war then subsisting between the two countries, and the almost personal passions under which it was conducted. But to him all tion, were immaterial. these risks, including even that of detenThe sad fact was, that the Atlantic was not made of solid land."

The wife won in this not unromantic manner, proved to be well worth all the dangers, real or imaginary, of the voyage; and we again find Jeffrey in the full enjoyment of that domestic happiness of which he was keenly susceptible, and to which he was so well fitted, from his kindly and amiable nature, to contribute. On his voyage to America he kept a journal, some extracts of which are here given. That one who was so ardent a lover of nature should have felt, as he expresses it," a spite against the sea," is rather singular. The only effect it seems to have upon his imagination is to make him revert, by way of contrast, and with increased tenderness, to the quiet inland scenes that memory conjures upmorning walks with the dewy flowers round him, and open windows, opening upon shady gardens, with the swallows skimming past them. Yet it is here, and with the sea for his subject, that we think we should find