one present.

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His body was after- contrary to each other. belong to the sun, and are equally proper to it? He is forced to reply negatively, and to confess that one alone is true, proper, and particular; to wit, the annual; the other belonging to the primum mobile in twenty-four hours, &c. contrary, as it were, to the motions of the planets it impels.

wards privately deposited in the family vault at Greenwich Church; and a superb national monument, at the expense of four thousand guineas, erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey. Tears will flow for a man who gained such laurels, who added such lustre to the British arms. He who lives for himself will soon be forgotten, but he 3dly, I ask him which of the mowhose existence has been solely spent tions produces the day and night? He in forwarding the wishes and promot- is forced to reply, that of the primum ing the best interests of his fellow-mobile; and that on the sun depend countrymen, can, with confidence, the different seasons, and the entire expect immortality as his reward.

REPLY TO A QUERY.

MR. EDITOR.

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year.

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Now, if the day depends not on the motion of the sun, but on this primum mobile, who does not see that, to prolong the day, it is necessary to

SIR,-In the first volume of the Impe-stop the primum mobile, and not the

rial Magazine, col. 1072, is a query by "R. C." respecting the sun standing still, &c. as mentioned in the book of Joshua, chap. x. As no answer has been inserted in your Magazine on the subject, I have transcribed the enclosed letter of Galileo Galilei; should you think any part of it will throw light upon the query of R. C. you are at liberty to insert so much as may be applicable to the query.

J. S.

sun? Who, therefore, with a know

ledge of these simple elements of astronomy, does not also know, that if God had stopped the motion of the sun, instead of prolonging the day, it shorter? For this reason-that the he would have contracted it, and made motion of the sun being contrary to the diurnal conversion, the more the sun should move towards the east, so much the more would it tend to retard the motion in its course towards the west; and thus, the sun's motion being diminished or annulled, it would proportionably, in a shorter space, reach the occident; an accident which is certainly seen to happen to the moon, which makes her diurnal conversions later than those of the sun, in proportion as her proper movement is swifter than that of the sun. It being, therefore, absolutely impossible, agreeably to the constitution of Aristotle and Ptolemy, to stop the motion of the sun, and prolong the day, as the scriptures affirm to have happened, it is necessary that the movements should not be ordered as Ptolemy will have them to be, or it is necessary to change the sense of the words, and to say that, when the scriptures pro

"I admit and concede to the adversary for the present, that the words of the sacred text are to be taken in the express sense in which they are couched, namely, that God, at the intercession of Joshua, caused the sun to stand still, and prolonged the day, so as to enable him to gain the victory; but, requiring also for myself, that the same determination shall be valid for me, as if the adversary had not presumed to bind, but to leave free, as to the power of changing, the significations of the words,-I say, that this passage manifestly shows us the falsity and impossibility of the mundane system of Aristotle and Ptolemy, and, on the other hand, is fitly adapt-nounce that God stayed the sun, they ed to the Copernican.

"1st, I demand of the adversary if he knows how many motions the sun has? If he knows this, he is forced to reply that it has two motions, namely, the annual motion from the west to the east, and the diurnal from the east to the west. Hence,

"2dly, I ask him if these two motions, thus diverse, and, as it were,

mean to say that he stayed the primum mobile ; but that, accommodating themselves to the capacity of those, who are but ill adapted to understand the rising or setting of the sun, they declare the contrary of that, which they would have said, in addressing themselves to intelligent persons.

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It is not credible, let me here add, that God would have stopped the sun

alone, leaving the other spheres to | services, beseeching the Lord to run on, seeing that this would, with- grant you his blessing and all feliout any necessity, have altered and city. disturbed the whole order, the aspects, and the dispositions of the other constellations, respectively to the sun, and would have greatly deranged the entire course of nature; but it is credible that he would have stopped the whole of the system of the celestial spheres, which, after the interposition of this time of repose, would have returned concordantly to their operations without any confusion or change.

lected and forgotten in an underground apartment in the monastery of St. Gallen, near Constance. On this event he was congratulated by Leonardo in the following enthusiastic

terms.

"I have seen the letter which you lately addressed to our friend Niccolo concerning your late journey, and your discovery of several ancient manuscripts. In my opinion the republic of letters has to rejoice, not only on the acquisition of the works with which you have just enriched it, but also on the hopes which you entertain of recovering others. It is very glorious for you to have thus been able, by dint of care and labour, to present to our age these precious writings, which have hitherto escaped the researches of the learned. Your generous enterprise entitles you to the gratitude, not only of your contemporaries, but also of succeeding scholars. The memory of your services will be eternal. In the most distant times the friends of letters will remember with gratitude that you were the preserver and the editor of works, the loss of which they had so long deplored. As Camillus was regarded as the second founder of Rome, because he rebuilt it; so you ought to be considered as the new author of all the writings which your happy efforts have procured for the literary world. I earnestly exhort you not to relax in the pursuit of your noble resolution. Be not discouraged by the expense. I will furnish you with the requisite funds.

eloquence, that methinks all the nations of Italy ought to unite to receive him with due honours, when, after having liberated him from the long and severe imprisonment to which he has been doomed by barbarians, you send him to his native country. I wonder that you and your associates did not instantly set about transcribing him, and that you preferred beginning by making copies of authors of less note. As to Quintilian, his works are those which the learned desire with an anxiety, exceeded only by those, with which they seek for the lost treatise of Cicero de Republicâ. I must request that you will not lose your time in copying writings which are already known. Rather make diligent search for those which we still want, and especially the works of Cicero and Varro."*

(To be concluded in our next. ) *Leonardi Aret. Epistolæ, lib. iv. ep. 5.

ON THE PROBABILITY OF ABOLISHING

WAR.

IN considering the question of the inexpediency of war, and the possibility of preventing its recurrence, it seems necessary first to inquire into the nature of the causes which occasion it; for, till these can be ascertained, it would be hopeless to expect a remedy.

If we look through creation, we shall find that man is not the only being that destroys its own species. The same circumstance occurs in every "I must tell you that your researches department of animated nature.-We are more advantageous than you are see that quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and aware of. They have procured for us insects, wage war, not only with the a complete Quintilian. We now pos- rest of creation, but in many cases sess entire, a work, of which we hi- with each other. Man has, therefore, therto had only a sadly mutilated half. this disposition in common with his What a rich treasure! What unex-fellow tenants of the earth. Even the pected good fortune! Shall I, then, behold entire that Quintilian, whose work, even in its imperfect state, was to me an inexhaustible source of enjoyment? I conjure you, my dear Poggio, send me the manuscript of the Institutions as soon as possible, that I may see it before I die. As to the writings of Asconius and Flaccus, their discovery gives me pleasure, though neither of these writers has enriched the Latin language with new beauties. But Quintilian is so accomplished a master of rhetoric and of

sports of young animals are often an imitation of warfare, and this, in maturity, frequently arises to the most vindictive ferocity. Hence, an argument has been raised in favour of a state of general hostility, and war has been vindicated in the abstract, as consistent with the ends of our being, and if it were not suffered as unavoidable, to be sought for as a sort of positive good.

Those who have relied upon this argument, have, however, omitted one consideration, of some moment

share this vindictive and destructive feeling with some of the lowest ranks of his fellow beings.

Now it is, again, extremely humiliating to us, to reflect, that even in those cases where animals attack their own species, it is seldom excited by the voracious appetite. Nature has implanted a horror against such a practice. It is only amongst mankind, where the abuse of reason has degraded the natural feelings, that such a debasing conduct has been resorted

in the decision of the question.They should have recollected, that the lower classes of creation are directed by instinct, and that their habits are, therefore, unchangeable; whereas the natural propensities of mankind are under the control of reason and moral feeling. This is the great distinction and prerogative of man and whilst it segregates him from the rest of the creation, demonstrates that he is an improvable, and therefore an accountable being. As the disposition to war, is, how-to. If there be exceptions, they are ever, common to mankind and other animals, it is probable that the motives by which they are actuated may be, in some respects, similar. Let us, therefore, inquire what are the principal causes that induce the inferior races of animals to make war upon and destroy each other.

That awful, but indispensable and salutary law of animal creation, by which one race of beings is supported by the destruction of another, is not, now, the object of our inquiry.

If it were, the appetites and dispositions, the weapons and the powers, of some races, contrasted with the prolific nature, the weakness, the terrors, and precautions of others, would sufficiently demonstrate the will of providence in this respect.-By this alone, a considerable portion of animated nature is suffered to exist. By this, its strength and vigour are continually renovated and supported. What would be the state of the world, if every animated being drew its subsistence immediately from the earth? What would be its appearance, if every creature were to perish by age or disease? The earth would be a desolation and a charnel house.

But it is to the propensity which nature has implanted in some animals to destroy their own species, that our inquiries are directed; and it is extremely remarkable, that this propensity is so far from being general, that it is confined, comparatively, to a few species only, and these not of the most fierce and savage tribes. It has long ago been remarked, that neither the Lion nor the Wild-Boar, the Tiger nor the Bear, devour each other;

"Parcit

to be found amongst the shoals of the ocean, some of which destroy with indiscriminate voracity all that fall in their way.

The non-existence of a disposition wantonly to destroy each other, prevents, also, the disposition in the inferior animals to attack one another, lest they themselves should be destroyed.

-Conscious, as it were, of no hostility, they fear none; but either associate for their natural support, or prowl for their separate subsistence. It seems to be man alone who dreads his own likeness,-who sees in his fellow-man his worst enemy, who, on meeting another in a desolate situation, hesitates whether he shall hold out to him the hand of fellowship, or deprive him of life, and decides according to the circumstances in which they are placed.

That animosity that does not in general exist amongst brute animals, may, however, be excited by various causes; and of these, none is more powerful than the passion of the sexes. Hence this vindictive propensity does not attach to animals that pair. In these instances, the species are not only peaceable, but gregarious. It is only where the intercourse of the sexes is promiscuous, that this disposition is found. When the male is competent to a number of females, he regards another male with jealousy, as an intruder on his pleasures. The cock, the bull, the stag, and even the ram, will bear no rival; and if they meet, the contest can only be terminated by death.

We are so imperfectly acquainted with the nature of the bee, that we are at a loss to ascertain, with precision, the cause of that dreadful havock which frequently occurs in their communities, and which certainly reAnd mankind must be contented to sembles the contests of the human

Cognatis maculis similis fera;"

Juv. Sat. xv.

race, more than those of any other class of beings. Armed by nature with poisoned daggers,-fierce, vindictive, and careless of death,-they lie strewed on the ground like the heroes of Jemappe or Waterloo, and would, if possible, destroy each other to the very last individual.

It has been supposed that these effects have been occasioned by a kind of political animosity, as to the mode of their government, or the person of their sovereign; a conjecture which, if well founded, would assimilate them still nearer, in point of disposition and intellect, with the human race. Such, however, seem to be the principal motives by which the lower classes of animals are stimulated to hostilities against the individuals of their own species; and these, with various modifications, may also be ranked amongst the leading causes of dissension in the human race. Unhappily, however, in addition to these primitive causes, there are various passions and appetites peculiar to mankind, which multiply them to an incalculable extent.

The preservation of existence might be accomplished, and the individuals of the human race, being assured of their personal safety, might be presumed to live on terms of amity with each other; but man consults, not only his being, but his well-being, and this, he conceives, is not always to be acquired but at the expense, and by the humiliation, of another. He is no sooner furnished with the necessaries of life, than he begins to thirst for its superfluities, and its luxuries. He is no sooner released from the dominion and tyranny of another, than he begins to domineer and tyrannize over others himself. Pride, ambition, the love of fame, and of pleasure in all her forms, continually prompt him to action; and as he is conscious to himself, not only of these feelings, but of the sacrifices he would make of the happiness of others for their gratification, so he reasonably and justly attributes the same principles and feelings to those around him, and thus every individual of mankind becomes his rival and his enemy.

Hence, the remote cause of war, exists in the instinctive and selfish No. 37.-Vol. IV.

propensities of our nature;--the immediate one, in attributing to others those feelings and designs, of which we are conscious in ourselves. We conceive ourselves to be in daily and hourly danger of destruction, or of injury from others, and we, therefore, daily and hourly seek to injure or destroy them, in order to secure our selves against their machinations. Every man is to himself the centre of creation; the rest revolves about him, and he considers it only as it endangers his welfare, or contributes to his happiness. An Italian gentleman, we believe a professor of “ Humanity and the Belles Lettres," on being asked whether he would not lay down his life to secure the eternal happiness of all mankind, replied, somewhat out of character, but with great sincerity, "I would not give this little finger to save all mankind from eternal perdition."

Here then we seem, not only to have given way to those natural instincts of selfish gratification, which we possess in common with other animals, but to have carried them to an excess, of which the other races of being are incapable; so that this disposition, if persevered in, would revive the fable of Cadmus, and depopulate the earth. But here an association with them ceases, the tyranny of the passions gives way, and the empire of reason begins.

No sooner do we raise ourselves above the immediate gratifications of sense and passion, than we feel ourselves transformed into different beings. The selfish principle is restrained and counteracted, not only by various natural and social attachments, but by considerations of reason and prudence, by the dictates of philosophy, which opens the way to higher views, and by the precepts of religion, which direct us to the true end of our being.

By these the selfish feelings natural to man are not only checked and modified, but frequently suppressed and extinguished; and in proportion as this takes place, he rises in the rank and scale of existence.

The affections of kindred, and the charities of domestic life, are as powerful as the selfish principle itself-the first-fruits of that abundant harvest of benevolence and generosity, which the human bosom is capable of proK