estimation, as we humbly think with deference to many whose judgment is entitled to respect, of such a stamp as to leave any special regret that it is no more than a fragment.

whole world of meaning into the mind, which has been for some time only dimly struggling through the page, while there is also sometimes in his descriptions a quaint gothic picturesqueness, which The church history of Neander must, therefore, is to us, we own, wonderfully charming. We for the present, rank quite alone in the assemblage would not conceal, however, that his style is of fitting qualities which it presents, and in the characteristically one which must to some extent extent of its conception and execution; in its union repel the mere English student, whose tastes have of vast learning and profound philosophic penetra-been formed on the old classic models; and that it tion; its varied comprehensiveness and abundant requires some patience and love to tolerate it, still store of materials; its insight into the living more to find it agreeable. The most general fault connexion of historic events, but especially into of Neander's history, in addition to this mere the still more living and subtle nexus which binds matter of style, is one yet somewhat connected together the growth and development of human with it-viz., its pervading subjectivity. The opinion; in its union of these rarer qualities with whole course of the Church, both in its doctrinal the most simple-hearted Christian piety, the most and practical development, is represented by him lively, appreciative interest in the ever-varying too much in the light of his own transforming fortunes of the Church-the finest, rarest discern-conception of it-principles and traits of character ment of all the manifold phases of the Christian are exhibited too little in a concrete form. There life-the most genuine liberality, and the most catholic sympathy.

is, in short, too little of outward form and symmetry in his narrative. Some have complained, too, of So variously noble are the qualifications which his want of striking individual portraiture-a must thus unite in a church historian, with others feature in history to which we are now so much still in which, as we shall immediately show, accustomed; but while this is certainly not a very Neander must be judged deficient, that we almost marked characteristic of his work, it is impossible, despair of seeing them combined, even so far, in we think, to read his portraits of the British and any other. We may have the well-meaning piety German Missionaries, in the fifth volume, without on the one hand, and the power of intellect on the acknowledging that it is by no means deficient in other; but to see an intellect at once of the noblest impressive, and sometimes even glowing, pictures temper and the largest range, all humbled and laid of individual activity and zeal. Tholuck has low at the foot of the cross as Neander's was; all-instanced what must also to some extent be conimbued by a Christian spirit, and therefore sidered an imperfection in Neander's history-viz., thoroughly candid and just and loving towards the the inadequate manner in which it connects itself most various tendencies of religious opinion and with the whole course of human history-the practice; and, moreover, to see a mind like this progress and improvement of general society in its give itself to the most persevering and consuming different stages. The Church is seen in it too industry, to days of unwearying thought, and much merely in its exclusive development; the nights of ceaseless research-all unconscious the parallel and related influences of ordinary civilizawhile of aught but of doing its appointed work in tion, common civil and political usages, and the the service of God-this is a sight, we fear, the mere succession of worldly dynasties are too little Church will not very soon behold again-a blessing revealed. But, with whatever imperfection an she cannot expect at every turn of her course; and impartial criticism must thus find in it, it remains, still less, therefore, may we hope soon to see one as we have said, quite single in its collective expossessing, besides these, other qualities of great hibition of great qualities, and a wide and unimportance, which Neander cannot be said to have equalled influence awaits it, we are assured, for had such as a compact and vivid style, combining many generations in the Church of Christ. an easy expressiveness with dignity and force-a We could have wished to bring this great work lively and graphic skill of narration-of what the in some more minute form before our readers; French significantly express by the term conter-but we have already so far exhausted our space, generally a thoroughly graceful and harmonious that we cannot dwell on its more special features. power of composition. In such artistic respects, We will, therefore, bring our remarks to a close in all, in short, which imparts that nameless finish, by adverting for a very little to what, as to some that sculptural form, so imperishable in its pure extent already indicated, we deem its crowningbeauty, which we are accustomed to denominate excellence, and the peculiar service which it has by the term classical," Neander's work, like so rendered and continues to render to the Church in many German works, must be pronounced greatly Germany, and which we doubt not it is destined deficient. His style is in his history, as in all his no less to render to the Church in our own counwritings, a thoroughly teutonic style, laboring in try: we mean the singularly successful manner in many involved turns and parenthetical gasps after which it has exhibited, consistently with its origithe full expression of his teeming thoughts. There nal aim, the Christian Church as the one great is no lightness in its step, no music in its march, living element of progress in humanity, "a voice even in the mere ordinary narrative, although to of instruction," and divine power of education, one more intent upon the thought than the form, for all ages. To accomplish this noble task conthere is often a ripe, rich phrase, conveying asistently with the demands of science, as it was, CCCXLVI. LIVING AGE. VOL. XXVIII. 2

66

we have seen, among the earliest, continued to be | Heaven opened itself for the rescue of revolted the dearest ambition of Neander's life, and very humanity;—a power which, as it is exalted above powerfully and completely, upon the whole, has all that human nature can create out of its own he accomplished it, to the perpetual refutation of resources, must impart to that nature a new crea all philosophic sciolism on the one side or the tion, and change it from its inmost nature." other.

This conclusion, with which Neaħder sets out in his history, it is impossible we think not to own that he has completely substantiated, in his review of the different existent religions and philosophies in his introduction. There has, indeed, ever seemed to us a rare and most felicitous power of insight displayed in this preliminary reviewin the manner in which the relation of Christianity, in its peculiar essence, is everywhere recognized to previous modes of thought and faith: in the way in which he exhibits it connecting itself with these--as well with the sporadic rays of a glimmering Divine life in Heathenism, as with the more definitely revealed light of Judaism, and at the same time as infinitely exalted above them, not merely supplementing them, but

Of the " progress of humanity" there is much talk now-a-days that would lead us to suppose we must abandon altogether the “old paths" in which we have hitherto found "rest for our souls." We must leave and demolish the ancient temple, the dwelling place of so many generations, and out of its ruins build up a new one suited to the times. The native powers of the human mind are said to be quite adequate to such a work. Having, in a previous comparatively dark age, given birth to Christianity, now that they have naturally outgrown it, they are winging themselves for a yet higher flight into the region of spiritual truth. Such views, it is known, have long been prevalent in Germany, and have been even there specially put forth as the only philosophic principles transforming them with a new heavenly energy. on which church history, as all history, can be written. The whole course of human development, it is maintained, is alike, the history of the church, the growth of the divine faculties inherent in man, which have been ever self-evolving of time" prepared for its introduction; but in no themselves from the beginning of time until now, just in some such way as may be conceived expressed in the fine lines of Tennyson, when he Bays

All diverse religions are just thus, in some sort, the product of the "structural" operation of the same spiritual powers in man, ever necessarily seeking expression in new and more adequate theologies-in ever-advancing forms of faith.

In all the commingling elements of Jewish and Hellenic culture then fermenting in the minds of men, it everywhere found points of attachment; for thus in the wisdom of God was the "fulness

possible combination of these elements was there the capability of originating it. There was no magic of eclecticism which, from the mere conflict and dissolution of the old decaying systems, could have educed such a living force as Christianity. It is impossible for any one to doubt this whose historical intuition is not wholly blinded by a preconceived philosophy. And the most happily satisfactory manner in which Neander has shown this-not by any attempted argument, indeed-but by the simple exhibition of the true state of things at the time, we reckon one of his highest merits.

Now, in opposition preeminently to views such And equally throughout the whole course of as these is the great and ever-speaking lesson of his work has he apprehended with a peculiar satNeander's history. Its greatest merit, we con- isfactoriness the distinguishing essence of Christiceive and it is the merit, more or less, of all his anity in relation to the ever-revolving course of labors is the effectual refutation which it fur- human speculation. While everywhere clearly nishes of all such pseudo-philosophy. In his pages recognizing the necessary inter-action of the purely we perceive, on the contrary, in the clearest, most Christian with the general mental consciousness indubitable manner, how essentially Christianity is of the age, he at the same time everywhere shows exalted, both in its origin and perpetuity, above the essential independence and supereminence of all the natural powers of the human mind, and Christianity over all modes of mere human scithe ordinary forms of human culture. While ence. It remains forever the same divine wisuniting itself in the most intimate, concrete mode dom and life as at the beginning; and no “progwith human science, in its various products, it is ress of the intellect," however it may mould yet something far above it—not a philosophy anew some of its conceptions, can ever affect it reached in the necessary course of human prog-in its essence. In Christ, and in Him alone, there ress, but a higher wisdom and life, once for all is revealed, once for all, the sum of that truth imparted to humanity in Christ Jesus, and ever- which man needs to educate him to the highest more revealed in Him. While at its origin com- pitch of his moral nature, to which he has only pletely coinciding with, and, in fact, appropriat- evermore, with every advancing stage of his hising to itself the ordinary development of nature tory, to rise in fuller love and self-appropriation, and reason in history, it was yet something which and the full measure of which he will scarcely be sprung out of a superior source than either-" a able to reach with the furthest point of his adnew power, not born in the hidden depths of man's vancement. This ever young and ever adapting being, but communicated from above, because power of Christianity to all the emergencies of

the Fatherland, but may be seen, to some extent, in almost every church and every Christian land. And could we venture to look into the future, we believe the name of Neander would be found a name of power, when perhaps some even more powerful in these days have perished; because then, as now, it will be a name not only drawing

From the Spectator.

THE URBAN DEVASTATOR.

human history, as of individual life, whereby it yet by no means limited to the Protestantism of appropriates such crises, and by their very means leads itself on to new victory, just when they seemed to threaten its destruction-this was one of the most profoundly and dearly cherished convictions of Neander, in the light of which he lived, and whose bright hopefulness beams through all his works. This was the " progress of the Church," the continued process of its develop- the homage, but alluring the love of man. ment, of which he everywhere speaks so much, and upon the broad, pregnant recognition of which his history is based. He could conceive of no progress which should yet leave Christianity behind; of no "Church of the future" which should pass beyond the "truth as it is in Jesus." As with him Christ is so clearly and solely the Alpha of the Church, so is He no less its Omega, and every progression of the human race he conceived to be still only a retrogression to the God-manthe Eternal Wisdom revealed in humanity. The new must thus ever return into the old; and the ball of human progress, thrown backwards and forwards, must still cling fast to Him; for from this point of attachment alone can the divine education of the race draw those living and healthful influences which, amid all its oscillations, shall still bear it onwards to a higher goal.

Such is the one pervading truth in the light of which Neander's history shines, and in the light of which, as we have already said, he moreover lived and labored. And this latter fact it was, let us now say in conclusion, which gave in Germany, and must continue to give everywhere, such a peculiar influence to all his teaching. It was felt and seen on all hands, and it will no less be known hereafter, that the man who spoke so much of the divine might and enduring influence of Christianity, was one who in his daily life, and in the whole circle of his labors, verified in the most signal manner the truth of what he taught. His whole being was seen to be completely moved and governed by that divine power which he proclaimed. Even the opponents of his views-those who could not admit his lessons-have yet seen and acknowledged this. "It would be difficult to find," one of them has written, with an admirable frankness, "among the prominent characters of our time, any one whose outward life is so fully the mirror of the divine principle surrounding it; so fully conformed thereto in all its relations, as Neander's is. What he is, he is entirely. There is in him no ostentation, no catching after false glitter and effect; no trace of the hypocrisy; so wide-spread among us. Christianity is with him no mere family heirloom, no mere external habit; but the inmost, freest fact of his life; its unceasing end and aim." One so thoroughly and graciously penetrated with the truths he taught, could not fail to exercise a wide impression, and to draw, as he did, many fine youthful minds under his happy sway. So true and lovely a character, united to so noble and exalted an intellect, could not fail of a rich harvest of influence a harvest which long since begun to ripen in Germany, is

MR. BURKE depicts in glowing tropes those times of despotic rule when the royal jackals, armed with the powers of prerogative, issued from the Gothic portcullis to levy on subjacent domains contributions in kind, and returned from their marauding excursions loaded with the spoils of a hundred markets for the replenishment of the monarch's table. In lieu of these medieval forays, a round sum in quarterly payments has long been substituted, which ministers more smoothly to kingly state and the carnal wants of the sovereign. But as evils can be rarely more than compromised, the ravages of purveyance have been succeeded by an aphis consumer hardly less devastating of the suburban ruralities. Whoever has occasion to plunge deep into the bowels of the land, with the aim of minute inspection in an engineering or geodæsical survey, or from mere curiosity to trace the remains of a Roman encampment, rummage a Celtic barrow, or investigate the changes wrought by late ferruginous diversions in the old itineraries and road-side hostelries, will be amazed to find how bare it is of everything that in For proof of this general exhaustion his wants need civilized guise can minister to human sustenance. not be large; he may be only travelling in pilgrim or equestrian fashion, jogging leisurely from town to town or hamlet to hamlet; luxuriating in the green lanes, and eying the quiet nooks and ivylaced spires of the villages; but if he trusts to the chances of the road for subsistence, it is seldom he can be sure of the most commonplace repast-say glass of bright Boniface, with eggs and bacon, or, as Lord Chancellor Eldon preferred, "beans and bacon."

a

This woful want is not limited to any particular locality; it seems general throughout the realm. Miss Martineau, who appears at present intently occupied in dairy-farming in the North, testifies to the resourceless condition of that portion of the kingdom, and to the great difficulty she finds in mustering for her friends a tolerable spread of the everyday consumables of meat, cream, and butter. In the rural parts of the metropolitan or home counties, every one knows, who has made the experiment, that there is a corresponding lack of substantive supplies in the small towns,villages, and farmhouses; and that the chance of meeting for love or money with a quarter of lamb, piece of pork, chicken, or fowl of any sort, or even a basin of unskimmed milk or unappropriated egg, is most precarious. The cottages of the peasantry, as may be expected, are in a still more denuded state; into these rarely do the common aliments of the town inhabitancybeer, butcher's meat, butter, tea, coffee, sugar-find vouched for in respect of the counties abutting on admission. At least this impoverishment may be the Thames; in the dwellings of the laborers of Essex or Kent, for instance, even those of the more provident class, will seldom be found any provisions,

beyond potatoes and meal; of which last is made the eternal compost they call "pudding," but which, without eggs or other needful element, is no more pudding than flour and water can make it.

or shook them down on the heads of the soldiers, as the artillery wheels smote against their trunks It was a strange spectacle, those long, dark columns, out of sight of each other, stretching through the dreary forests by themselves; while the falling snow, sifting over the ranks, made the unmarked way still more solitary. The soft and yielding mass broke the tread of the advancing hosts, while the artillery, and ammunition and baggage wagons, gave forth a muffled sound, that seemed prophetic of some mournful catastrophe. The centre column alone had a hundred cannon in its train, while behind them were five hundred wagons--the whole closed up by the slow moving cavalry.

At first sight this may appear a somewhat incredible representation; it may appear extraordinary that in a country reputedly so opulent such a condition of general destitution may be found, that if an invading host were to try the experiment of a descent on the Kentish or Sussex coast, it is doubtful, unless it came well provided with the munitions of subsistence as well as of war, whether it would not be compelled by famine, if no other mischance befell it, to surrender at discretion long before it reached the metropolis. Still the land is notoriously not barren; it yields abundantly; but the places of production are not, except sparingly, the places of consumption. The plain fact is that the country is caten up by the towns. The great wen of London, with the lesser wens of Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester, and Leeds, do for miles distant consume all around them, leaving the outlying districts more bare and cleared out than in old times by the ruth-deploying into the open field. The two former less purveyors of the Henries and Edwards. Into these consuming emporia flows all that can be collected from the field, hen-roost, dovecote, or dairy; by which rent or productive capital may certainly be realized, but allowing only slender commons for those living beyond the smoke. Hence the complaint, that people who reside in the country, with a competence of 4007. or 500l. a year, find a difficulty in supplying their tables; all that is choice, and even ordinary articles, being sweepingly railed off or carted to the capital and the manufacturing nuclei. As a consequence, the inducements to rural life are lessened, though the facilities for locomotion have increased; for people must follow the meat wherever it is.

THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.

Thus marching, it came at about 9 o'clock upon Hohenlinden, and attempted to debouch into the plain; when Grouchy fell upon it with such fury that it was forced back into the woods. In a moment the old forest was alive with echoes and its gloomy recesses illuminated with the blaze of artillery. Grouchy, Grandjean, and Ney, put forth incredible efforts to keep this immense force from struggled with the energy of desperation to hold their ground; and although the soldiers could not see the enemy's lines, the storm was so thick, yet they aimed at the flashes that issued from the woods, and thus the two armies fought. The pine trees were cut in two, like reeds, by the artillery, and fell with a crash on the Austrian columns, while the fresh fallen snow turned red with flowing blood. In the mean time, Richenpanse, who had been sent by a circuitous route with a single division to attack the enemy's rear, had accomplished his mission. Though his division had been cut in two, and irretrievably separated by the Austrian left wing, the brave general continued to advance, and with only three hundred men fell boldly on forty thousand Austrians. As soon as Moreau heard the sound of his cannon through the forest, and the alarm it spread amid the enemy's ranks, he ordered Ney and Grouchy to charge full on the Austrian centre. Checked, then overthrown, that broken column was rolled back in disorder, and utterly routed. Campbell, the poet, stood in a tower and gazed on this terrible scene, and in the midst of the fight composed in part that stirring ode which is known as far as the English language is

THE Iser and the Inn, as they flow from the Alps towards the Danube, move nearly in parallel lines, and nearly forty miles apart. As they approach the river, the space between them becomes one elevated plain, covered chiefly with a sombre, dark, pine forest-crossed by two roads only-while the mere country paths, that wind through it here and there, give no space to march-spoken. ing columns. Moreau had advanced across this forest to the Inn, where, on the 1st of December, he was attacked and forced to retrace his steps, and take up his position on the further side, at the village of Hohenlinden. Here, where one of the great roads debouched from the woods, he placed Ney and Grouchy.

The Austrians, in four massive columns, plunged into the gloomy wilderness, designing to meet in the open plain of Hohenlinden the central column marching along the high road, while those on either side made their way through amid the trees, as they best could.

The depths of the forest swallowed the struggling hosts from sight, but still there issued forth from its bosom shouts and yells mingled with the thunder of cannon, and all the confused noise of battle. The Austrians were utterly routed, and the frightened cavalry went plunging through the crowd of fugitives into the woods-the artillery men cut their traces and, leaving their guns behind, mounted their horses and galloped away-and that magnificent column, as if sent by some violent explosion, was hurled in shattered fragments on every side. For miles the white ground was sprinkled with dead bodies, and when the battle left the forIt was a stormy December morning, when these est, and the pine trees stood calm and silent in the seventy thousand men were swallowed from sight wintry night, piercing cries and groans issued out in the dark defiles of Hohenlinden. The day be- of the gloom in every direction-sufferer answerfore it had rained heavily, and the roads were ing sufferer as he lay and writhed on the cold snow. almost impassable; but now a furious snow-storm Twenty thousand men were scattered there amid darkened the heavens, and covered the ground the trees, while broken carriages and wagons and with one white unbroken surface. The by-paths deserted guns, spread a perfect wreck around.-J. were blotted out, and the sighing pines overhead T. Headley.

drooped with their snowy burdens above the ranks,

From Sharpe's Magazine. THE LIFE AND MAXIMS OF LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.

THE Maxims of La Rochefoucauld have been long regarded as the most famous collection of malicious truths, of pointed, searching, and sarcastic sayings, with which the world has been favored. Highly characteristic of the man, the nation, and the period, they will always possess a peculiar interest, from the view which they present of human motives and dispositions, and the worldly philosophy which they inculcate. Those who adopt a low estimate of human nature, and who make it a rule to believe the worst of every one, delight to range themselves under the standard of La Rochefoucauld. Men of the world, or rather worldlyminded men of the meaner sort, have at all times referred to his maxims as the perfection of wisdom; and they do, in fact, display (however much we may be disposed to quarrel with some of their leading principles) a vast amount of shrewd common sense, real intelligence, and subtle insight into the ordinary springs of human action.

It is interesting to observe how much the spirit of these maxims has been adopted by subsequent writers of the same school; how often they have been appropriated-used and misused-by authors of a misanthropical or sceptical turn; and how many of them have passed into proverbs, and become stock sayings and recognized truisms. Our readers may not, perhaps, be displeased with a few examples of this; and the publication of a new translation, illustrated with some very entertaining notes, in which many curious coincidences in thought and expression are pointed out from other writers, affords us legitimate pretext for enlarging on the subject.*

It will be proper, however, to commence with a short biography of the author; for the events of his life give an additional interest to, as they unquestionably colored, the productions of his pen. We shall endeavor as much as possible to avoid unnecessary details, although, from the position which La Rochefoucauld occupied, and the part he had played, it will be requisite to refer repeatedly to the historical events of the period.

Francis, Prince of Marsillac, Baron de Verteuil, and Duke de la Rochefoucauld-for these were the titles he derived by descent from a distinguished race-was born on the 15th of December, 1613. The age in which it was his lot to live was well calculated to develop his singular talents, and was full of striking and stirring events, in which he was destined to be no inconsiderable actor. "His youth," observes a French writer, "was passed under the reign of Louis XIII. and Richelieu, his riper years under the regency of Anne of Austria, and his old age under the absolute sovereignty of Louis XIV. Each of these three epochs left its influence on his mind, and gave a different direction to his life. His education had been neglected, but he was one of those spirits who owe more to the world than to the schools, and whose minds are better formed by intercourse with mankind than by books."†

At the age of sixteen La Rochefoucauld commenced the career of arms in Italy. He was soon afterwards introduced at the French court, and

"Moral Reflections, Sentences, and Maxims, of Francis, Duc de la Rochefoucauld, newly translated from the French, with an Introduction and Notes." London: Longman. 1850. 12mo.

received with due distinction as a cadet of one of the noblest families in France. Cardinal Kichelieu was then in the height of his power. Louis XIII. nominally reigned, but the cardinal governed; though a sharp but unequal contest for supremacy was kept up between Anne of Austria, the queen regnant, and the subtle churchman. The elder La Rochefoucauld had attached himself to the party of Anne of Austria, but, on the banishment of the Duchess de Chevreuse, the queen's favorite, he fell into disgrace, and withdrew from court. The author of the "Maxims" was thus early initiated in political intrigues, and the lessons he learned when in opposition to Richelieu were not lost upon his after life.

On the death of the cardinal, in 1642, the Prince de Marsillac (as La Rochefoucauld was then called) made his reappearance at court, in the full expectation of finding a new order of things established, as soon as the powerful minister had ceased to

breathe.

But here he was disappointed; for to his great surprise he found the court as submissive to the will of the wonderful man who had presided for so many years over the destinies of his country, after his death as during his life. "His relations and dependants continued to enjoy all the advantages they had gained through him; and by a turn of fortune, of which there are few examples, the king, who hated him, and who had desired his fall, was obliged not only to conceal his sentiments, but even to authorize the disposition made by the cardinal in his will of the principal employments and most important places in the kingdom."* But the life of Louis XIII. hung upon a thread, and it was confidently whispered abroad, and most anxiously expected by disappointed courtiers, that important changes were at hand.

The king died, and Anne of Austria became regent during the minority of Louis XIV. All who had been excluded from favor by their attachment to the cause of the queen during her struggle with Richelieu, had now good cause to expect that their services would meet with acknowledgment and reward. But Mazarin (who had succeeded Richelieu, and who had adopted the policy, and followed, as closely as his narrower capacity permitted, in the footsteps of his predecessor) had artfully managed, before the king's demise, to ingratiate himself with the queen, and having gradually won her confidence, and induced her to appreciate his serviceable talents, his influence became paramount under the regency. Thus, to the surprise of all, and the disappointment of many, the aspect of the court remained unchanged. Every day the queen showed more indifference to the friends of her ill fortune, among whom was La Rochefoucauld, upon whose observant spirit this first lesson on the ingratitude of courts was not thrown away.

Very little appears to be known of the doings of La Rochefoucauld during the "good times of

the

regency. It is certain, however, that he was engaged in political intrigues, and was constantly plotting against the power of the regent. But the languid interest excited by the disputes of courtiers, and contests for royal favor, was soon to be superseded by the more alarming incidents of civil

war.

La Rochefoucauld had reached the prime of life, and was well known among the leading spirits of the age, when the corruption of manners, the extravagance of the court, and other concurring *Mémoires de la Régence d'Anne d'Autriche, par La

"Encyclopédie des Gens du Monde." Paris. 1842. Rochefoucauld.