that he was relating. From this last period, both the internal and external history are united in a full narrative, which extends to the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent, in fourteen hundred and ninety two. The merit of acute and vigorous thought, which characterizes all the productions of Machiavelli, is enhanced, in the Florentine Histories, by the skill with which he arranges his subject and conducts his narration. The transitions are generally easy. and natural, and the charm of the narrative is preserved by the peculiar art with which he interweaves his generalization with the facts from which it proceeds, and sometimes even with the sentence that records it. For the most important, however, of these remarks, a particular place has been reserved at the commencement of each book, where they serve as a general introduction to the portion that follows. Some of the most interesting questions are here treated with an energy and justness of thought, which surpass anything in even the best chapters of the Discourses, and with the peculiar and powerful logic, which distinguishes all the works of Machiavelli. If it were possible to judge a mind like his by detached passages and fragments of his general train of thought, no part of his writings could be selected with so much propriety as the introductions to the books of the Florentine Histories. No work, if we except the Decameron of Bocaccio, has exercised upon Italian prose the same degree of influence as this. But while Bocaccio, misguided by his veneration for the Latin, laboured to form his style upon the arbitrary inversions and periodic sentences of the Roman classics, Machiavelli, with a juster appreciation of the genius of the Italian, adopted a simpler and more pleasing course, equally free from the inversions of the fourteenth century and the gallicisms of the eighteenth. The language of the purer writers of Italy has continued to our own times, as it was left them by Machiavelli, and his works possess nearly the same freshness of expression, which characterizes in our own language the prose of Dryden and of Addison. The Art of War was composed before the completion of the Florentine Histories. Like many of the works of the ancient philosophers, it is written in the form of a dialogue, in which the principles of the science are developed by the chief interlocutor, while an air of easy vivacity is spread over the whole piece, by the questions and remarks of the others. The merit of this work has been placed in a clear light by the letters of Count Algarotti, and when we reflect that they were written at the court of Frederick the Great, by a man cherished and honoured for the brilliancy of his own genius, we shall ask no higher testimony to the military genius of Machiavelli. It is a singular step, from the gravity of the historian and the profound reasonings of the statesman, to the airy dreams of poetry and the keenness of comic wit. But were anything more than a general outline compatible with the plan of the present paper, we should now be called to trace the steps of Machiavelli in these new and difficult paths. Poetry was for him both a solace and a recreation, and many of the productions of his muse are strongly marked with the feelings that inspired them. He sought relief in his lyre from the stings of envy and the relentlessness of persecution, and when wearied with deeper and graver thought, refreshed his mind and restored his strength by the cheerful creations of fancy. In comedy he continued, under another form, his favourite study of man, and although the subsequent progress of the art has given greater perfection to the development of plot and to the general management of character, no writer has ever surpassed him in comic power and in faithfully portraying the follies and vices of his age. Nor are these portions of his writings less strongly marked with his original and peculiar character. Energy, vivacity, and profound knowledge of human nature are the most striking characteristics of the poet, of the comic writer, and of the statesman. The style of Machiavelli is of a kind of which foreigners can in part perceive and appreciate the beauty. Uniting the excellences of clearness and conciseness with great vigour of expression, and perfect harmony of arrangement, it conveys the ideas of the writer with a force and precision which make the deepest impression upon the memory, while they leave no room for misapprehension. His words and phrases are peculiarly appropriate, and have that graceful elegance which always results from a skilful use of idioms. There are no laboured expressions, no nicely wrought sentences, but the whole moves on, plain and concise in argument, clear and animated in description, nervous and powerful in declamation, warming with the feelings of the writer, and reflecting every shade of his thoughts. His descriptions are rich and varied. They are at times perfect pictures, in which every detail is carefully wrought up, with appropriate distinctness and keeping; at others, brief sketches, in which a few prominent traits, selected with the instinctive delicacy of genius, form a perfect outline of parts, and seem to indicate the rest. In every case they carry the mind forward with constantly increasing excitement, and produce the peculiar and powerful agitation with which we always draw nigh to the termination of some great catastrophe. He seldom indulges in declamation, but whenever his feelings become particularly excited, his thoughts and images flow with a warmth and energy which show how well he was qualified to excel in this species of eloquence. He describes the events of history, whether marked by great virtues or debased by glaring crimes, with a clearness and truth, which reproduce the whole scene in the mind of the reader. But all comments upon the moral character of the event, all expression either of blame or of approbation are repressed, or, if admitted, are expressed in brief sentences or in short comments connected with the narration of the fact. The same manner may be observed in his reasoning: the subject is stated with clearness and precision, his arguments and illustrations follow in rapid succession, but all passing remarks, all amplification and declamation, are left to the imagination of the reader. Many critics, without observing that the same peculiar simplicity is invariably used in speaking of his own interests and misfortunes, have thought that it indicated, in the mind of the writer, a total indifference to good and evil. But this moral insensibility in the highest order of intellect, is more frequently imagined than found. The volume, from which we arise with a stronger inclination to the practice of virtue, a warm admiration for the noble and lovely in moral excellence, and a profound abhorrence of the sacrifice of the interests of many to the pleasure of an individual, can hardly have been produced by a mind wholly blunted to moral feeling. As different minds have different forms of expression, so have they different ways of conveying their lessons of virtue. The moral feeling that arises from the reading of Machiavelli, lies far deeper than the surface of his narrative; it is produced by an attentive study of the whole, instead of being gaudily painted on each single part: it breaks not out in frequent and loud bursts of applause, but winds itself slowly and surely among the secret places of the heart; and the reader, although frequently unconscious of the impression that he has received, finds it mingling, like the first lessons of youth, with the whole course and character of his subsequent reflections. Some, also, have supposed, that Machiavelli had studied in preference the dark policy of his own times. We will not now stop to examine in what degree the writers of every age are influenced by the peculiar character of their own, or how far it is important for a public man, who seeks to be useful, to examine and understand the materials upon which he is to act; but we believe that a careful examination of the writings of Machiavelli will show that his favourite school was in the best ages of ancient history. The most eloquent passages of his writings are those in which he describes the effect of free institutions and virtuous example upon the character of a nation. Take for example the short description of the sunny days of the Antonines: how bright the colours, how strong the contrasts, how warm and glowing the whole design! It is the outbreathing of a pure and virtuous soul, forced from its path of cold reason, by the remembrance of bright days, and glowing amid the images that its own fancy has revived. Compare this, with the account of Borgia, a clear, cold, but powerful analysis, with a warm burst of enthusiastic feeling-the one a detail of crimes supported by greater crimes, the vices of a demon, triumphant over the vices of petty fiends, the other a touching sketch of sweet days of peaceful virtue, whose heavenly influence his own dark age had never felt. Machiavelli's favourite character was Scipio, and he seems to contemplate his virtues with an unvaried and exhaustless delight. Cæsar, on the contrary, he boldly condemns as a selfish tyrant, whose great genius can only render his treachery more hateful. Clearly and strongly indeed has he marked the line between those who have employed their talents and opportunities for the establishment of their own power, and those who have obeyed no other guide than their duty to their own country. Many works convey no idea of their author. The writer is lost in the story that he relates, or has nothing sufficiently peculiar in his cast of thought to impress the image of his mind upon its own creations. But Machiavelli, although he seldom speaks of himself, is constantly before the reader; his spirit accompanies us through every page at every step, we feel the presence of an observant and superior power, that will call us to account for every thought and feeling that we indulge. Every action that he relates contains a lesson, in every event swell the germs of some important principle: the mind is excited to constant and active exertion, and the reader must think as he reads, or cease to read. : His method of investigating the most important and interesting truths was incapable, perhaps, of leading to the extensive discoveries of later philosophy, but free from the subtleties and abstractions that have caused so much misery in modern Europe. Led both by natural disposition, and by the character of his studies, to the observation of individual acts and particular examples, he reached not the broadest principles of general legislation, but close, cautious, and correct in his reasoning, he seldom failed to establish some important truth of easy and universal application. The duties of his station compelled him to fix his view upon the probable termination of every event, and hence he sometimes appears to have lost sight of the means, in an eager anticipation of the end; but it should be remembered that his mind was of that class, which, seeing with great clearness and deciding with perfect promptitude, pass rapidly over the comments and explanations, of which they cannot discover the importance. He united the keenest comic wit with the profoundest philosophical reflection, the warmth of poetic feeling with the shrewdness of political sagacity, and bringing into actual life the same versatility and apparent contradiction of character, the pliant skill of an Italian diplomatist with the virtues of a faithful citizen, and the tenderness of an affectionate father and friend. short, whether we consider him in his life, or in his works, we shall be constantly struck with the peculiar and strongly marked character of both, and be prepared to acknowledge that few volumes contain a richer store of varied wisdom, than the life and writings of Machiavelli; and few still are more instructive in the multiform inode in which human passion is developed, thereby offering a most proper study for the philosopher and the historian, as well as the general reader, to whose perusal we cordially recommend them. In ART. VIII.-Francia's Reign of Terror, Sequal to Letters on Paraguay. By J. P. and W. P. ROBERTSON. 3 Vols. London: Murray. 1839. Ir is not common to find an author saying, as Messrs. Robertson have done in the Preface to the volume before us, I have not “a word of cavil or objection to offer against any one" of the critics of my former two volumes to which this is a sequel. And yet many both in metropolis and country spoke their minds honestly, a few months ago, ourselves amongst the number, about the "Letters on Paraguay." We suspect, however, that the same degree of unanimity, that a similar fulness of approval and praise, will not attend this" Sequel." Not that the descriptive powers of the writers are less agreeably displayed; not that their enthusiasm or warmth of colouring is feebler; not that personal adventure and incident are less exciting; but because, while some of the subjects handled, as well as the manner of handling them, admit of greater difference of opinion, these subjects themselves are so important and arresting, as to call for and draw out the severer rules of criticism, the closer tests for gauging the soundness and philosophy of an author's mind. While the literary tact and talent of the writers have not degenerated, the topics possess a deeper interest, present themes and examples more impressive, and afford wider scope for speculation than before. Besides, while the "Sequel" is in itself more engrossing on account of its main subject, its forerunner will, hereafter, be indebted to it much for a reflected interest and value; borrowing more than lending. Still, we repeat, we do not anticipate such an unanimity among the critics, or such a general praise, as in the case of the former venture. But our only concern is to acquit ourselves fairly before the authors, and the public, which we now proceed to do. It will be in the recollection of our readers that the senior brother preceded the junior in going to South America; and that in contemplation of great mercantile prosperity the latter followed the former to Paraguay, a region far inland of the South American continent, where the Jesuits at one time established themselves, with the view of converting to the Christian faith the Indians, and introducing civilization amongst them. How the Fathers were dispersed and expelled by the Spanish government is matter of history; the authority of that government itself having forty years afterwards undergone a similar violent revolution, in the same regions. It will also be remembered that the former volumes brought down the history of Paraguay, or, which is the same thing as regards the period embraced by the " Sequel," the fortunes of Francia, to his nomination for three years to the dictatorship of the Province; the elevation having been procured through the unanimous vote of a congress of deputies by means of manœuvre, intrigue, as well as the |