well done, constantly leads to something better. What is mechanical, reducible to rule, or capable of demonstration, is indeed progressive, and admits of gradual improvement: but that which is not mechanical or definite, but depends on taste, genius, and feeling, very soon becomes stationary or retrograde, after a certain period, and loses more than it gains by transfusion. The contrary opinion is indeed a common error, which has grown up, like many others, from transferring an analogy of one kind to something quite different, without thinking of the difference in the nature of the things, or attending to the dif ference of the results. For most persons, finding what wonderful advances have been made in biblical criticism, in chemistry, in mechanics, in geometry, astronomy, &c. i. e. in things depending on inquiry and experiment, or on absolute demonstration, have been led hastily to conclude, that there was a general tendency in the efforts of the human intellect to improve by repetition, and, in all arts and institutions, to grow perfect and mature by time. We look back upon the theological creed of our ancestors, and their discoveries in natural philosophy, with a smile of pity: Science, and the arts connected with it, have all had their infancy, their youth and manhood, and seem to have in them no principle of limitation or decay; and, inquiring no farther, we infer, in the intoxication of our pride, and the height of our self-congratulation, that the same progress has been made, and will continue to be made, in all other things which are the work of man. The fact, however, stares us so plainly in the face, that one would think the smallest reflection must suggest the truth, and overturn our sanguine theories. The greatest poets, the ablest orators, the best painters, and the finest sculptors that the world ever saw, appeared soon after the first birth of these arts, and lived in a state of society which was in other respects rude and barbarous. Those arts which depend on individual genius and incommunicable power, have almost always leaped at once from infancy to manhood-from the first rude dawn of invention to their meridian height and dazzling lustre, and have, in general, declined ever after. This is the peculiar distinction and privilege of science and of art;-of the one, never to arrive at the summit of perfection at all; and of the other, to arrive at it almost at once. Homer, Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Dante and Ariosto, (Milton alone was of a later period, and not the worse for it), -Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio, Cervantes and Boccacio-all lived near the beginning of their arts-perfected, and all but created them. These giant sons of genius stand indeed upon the earth; but they tower above their fellows; and

the long line of their successors does not interpose any object to obstruct their view, or lessen their brightness. In strength and stature, they are unrivalled; in grace and beauty, they have never been surpassed. In after-ages and more refined periods (as they are called), great men have arisen one by one, as it were by throes and at intervals; though, in general, the best of these cultivated and artificial minds were of an inferior order; as Tasso and Pope among poets, Guido and Poussin among painters. But in the earlier stages of the arts, when the first mechanical difficulties had been got over, and the language acquired, they rose by clusters and in constellations-never so to rise again.

The arts of poetry and painting are conversant with the world of thought within us, and with the world of sense without us-with what we know and see and feel intimately. They flow from the living shrine of our own breasts, and are kindled at the living lamp of Nature: But the pulse of the passions assuredly beat as high-the depths and soundings of the human heart were as well understood, three thousand or three hundred years ago, as they are at present. The face of nature, and the human face divine,' shone as bright then, as they have ever done since. But it is their light, reflected by true genius on art, which marks out the path before it, and sheds a glory round the Muses' feet, like that which

- circled Una's angel face,

And made a sunshine in the shady place. '

ART. III. Memoirs of the War of the French in Spain. By M. DE ROCCA, Officer of Hussars, and Knight of the Order of the Legion of Honour. Murray, London. 1815.

THE

HE greater part of those who are habitually occupied in the discussion of public affairs, unfortunately regard the most important events merely as topics of transitory interest, which attract notice only as long as they excite passion; and are afterwards consigned to oblivion, with an apathy little suited to the zeal with which they were formerly agitated. Hence it is, that men so rarely form a sober and dispassionate judgment on the business of their own times, on which alone it is of importance that they should judge rightly. On these most momentous subjects, their minds are predisposed for deception by the violence of their passions; and they can hardly ever look at the transactions before them but through a deceiving medium, by which facts are distorted and principles disguised, and the fountain

of knowledge thus poisoned at its source. The future historian, from the eminence which he has attained, may, indeed, see partially through the mists of prejudice and passion, which overhang the history of past ages. But those who are contemporary with the events, are generally deep sunk in the delusion; at the same time that they are compelled to act upon the impressions they have received, and are only made sensible of their error by the fatal experience of its effects. The diligent study of history seems the best antidote to those deceptions, as we may there see, unfolded for our instruction, a regular series of events, which we may examine at leisure, and without passion; and by thus reasoning on matters on which there is less scope for prejudice, the mind naturally acquires habits of more accurate investigation, and a store of general knowledge, which may be applied with the happiest effect, to illustrate the events of its own times.

--

For the purpose of bringing under the consideration of our readers, an interesting portion of recent history, we have selected the present performance, which contains an account of the invasion of Spain by the French armies, and a general view of the causes which, notwithstanding a continued series of reverses, still gave energy to the Spanish cause. The author, M. de Rocca, had a command in a regiment of French hussars, and a place in the Legion of Honour. He entered Spain in the year 1808, along with the troops sent to reinforce the French armies, which were at that time encamped on the Ebro, under the command of Joseph; and, except during a short interval in the year 1809, when he was sent against the English at Walcheren, he continued in Spain until the summer of 1810, when he was severely wounded, in an encounter with a party of Spanish guerillas. He relates chiefly what came under his own personal notice; and as he seems to be an acute and discriminating observer, his remarks, which are always lively, are frequently judicious and striking. In his account of the campaign, he certainly maintains a tone of great impartiality; praising or blaming indifferently the plans and movements of the two contending armies; while his narrative of military events is enlivened with some interesting sketches of Spanish manners, and with an amusing account of his own personal adventures. We shall procced to give our readers an abstract of the information contained in his performance, after we have made one general observation on the nature and object of the war to which it relates.

The objects of war are frequently of very little importance to the body of the people-and, after a certain time, they generally

discover this, and begin to grudge the sacrifices it requires. Where it originates manifestly in the personal prejudice or pride of the sovereign, though they will exult in the triumphs of their countrymen, they will not voluntarily incur any serious inconvenience to promote its success. They will generally remain neuter in the contest, which will consequently be decided exclusively by that small proportion of the population who are soldiers by profession.

Such was the nature of several of the contests carried on be tween Austria and France. The pride of the Austrian monarch was piqued at his loss of territory; and he seized the first opportunity of taking arms, that he might retrieve his honour, and recover his dominions. But these considerations had no weight with the great body of the people; and the contest was accordingly decided by the first great battle between the Austrian and French armies. When victory declared for the latter, no effort was made by the population of Austria to avert the impending invasion of their country, nor even to harass the enemy by irregular hostilities. But if the projects of a foreign power are directed against the happiness of the people at large, the result is of a very different description. It then becomes their interest to sacrifice all private considerations; and where their exertions are called forth by an energetic government, it is seldom that they are found wanting to the public cause. The war waged by Great Britain against her American colonies, was a project of pure and undisguised tyranny, and obviously at variance with the happiness of that great population. It was an attempt to govern by the mere terror of the bayonet; and the resistance of the American people corresponded to the importance of the objects for which they fought, to their hatred of tyranny, and to their love of liberty. The war waged in 1793 by the combined Kings of Europe against the people of France, was, in like manner, adverse to all their views of social happiness. The old government of France had just been overthrown, with a long train of corruptions and abuses, which time and the powerful patronage of authority had rendered inveterate. The people, long oppressed by the odious privileges, and illiberal distinctions of a corrupt aristocracy, which were interwoven with all their institutions and even with their domestic manners, were rejoicing in their emancipation from bondage, when they were alarmed by the threats of the allied powers to reimpose upon them the yoke which they had just shaken off. They flew to arms; and their zcal in the cause of their country

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corresponded entirely with their dread of the evils with which they were menaced.

In process of time, however, France, triumphant over all her enemics, became oppressor in her turn. Her victorious armies were made subservient to a system of policy incompatible with the freedom and happiness of other states. Oppression produced irritation; and, in process of time, gave rise to successful resistance. Russia rather chose to sacrifice her capital, than to submit to the yoke of France; and by this determined policy, she for ever crushed the hopes of her invaders. In Spain, too, the tyranny of France provoked a suitable spirit of resistance. The projects of Bonaparte, in regard to that country, were utterly at variance with the feelings and habits of the community at large. His attempt to impose upon them a French sovereign, was opposed by every principle of national antipathy and pride; while his internal reforms, which were chiefly directed against monasteries and the dominion of the clergy, gave a still greater shock to the inveterate prejudices of an ignorant and superstitious people. The revolution in the domestic manners and habits of a whole people, which Napoleon was attempting to accomplish at once, and by the sword, could only have taken place in the lapse of centuries, and under the mild sway of a just and enlightened government. His project was therefore equally impolitic and unjust; and was well calculated to call forth an unanimous and determined spirit of resistance.

But although the zeal of the people in the public cause must always be of admirable use in the defence of a country, it is only through the medium of a regular army that it will be found to operate effectually against an invading enemy-because a regular army, where it is successful, repels the invader, from the frontier, and prevents him from troubling the repose of the country; and where it is supported by an enthusiastic people, who voluntarily rush into the field to recruit its wasted ranks, must soon overwhelm an army which fights merely for conquest. By the destruction of the regular army, the country is left open to the conqueror, who penetrates at all points, and crushes resistance by the terror of his arms. Where the inhabitants are united, indeed, in their hatred of the invader," and in their determination to assert their independence, he will only possess the ground on which his army stands; and he will be annoyed by the irregular and incessant hostility of an exasperated people. But in these circumstances the ultimate deliverance of the country must always be extremely doubtful; as the invading army, by seizing upon the strongholds, and stationing