not likely that his career could extend much further. Neither did he enjoy his high office without trouble and opposition. Charles wished to be declared king; but his mother, though dead to the world, was still alive, and the Casti. lians looked upon this desire as both illegal and indecent. Ximenes remonstrated with him strongly against the unpopular measure; but Charles was obstinate, and the cardinal yielded, compelling the nobility to acquiesce, to their infinite mortification. He next proceeded to reform the finances, which had fallen into considerable disorder; suppressed superfluous offices, retrenched large salaries, curtailed pensions granted through interest, and abolished sinecures. His foreign policy displayed equal courage and vi gour. Amongst other salutary measures, he endeavoured to ameliorate the condition of the natives in the American colonies, and to prevent the introduction of negro slaves. At the same time, with inherent bigotry (the only fault we can detect in his public character), he added to the already tremendous power of the Inquisition, and pushed the authority of that dreaded tribunal to a tyrannical exercise. Three of the most influential nobles of Castile, the Dukes of Alva and Infantado, and the Count of Urena, openly rebelled against his authority. The Cardinal soon put them down by the strong arm, seized and burnt the town of Villafrata, of which some of their partisans had taken possession, and having subdued them, then solicited their pardon from the King. But, in spite of his most strenuous efforts to the contrary, the young monarch, who required money in Flanders, insisted on selling offices in Church and State, and withdrew the funds thus acquired, for foreign purposes.

The government of Ximenes became unpopular, from measures, in which he not only had no participation, but strongly opposed. At length, in the autumn of 1517, Charles repaired to Spain, and landed in the Asturias. The cardinal was seriously ill, but the opportune arrival of the King revived him, and they interchanged mutual letters of congratulation. Charles was surrounded by Flemings, who, having profited by the name and abilities of Ximenes, as long as they required them to win the Spanish nobility, were now desirous of preventing an interview between the

sovereign and the regent, and sought to prejudice the former by unfavourable representations of the cardinal's morose temper and arbitrary conduct. Charles suffered himself to be persuaded to write a cold, hypocritical letter to the great minister, naming the time and place for a personal conference, thanking him for past services, and suggesting his immediate retirement to his diocese. The unexpected blow cut the proud cardinal to the heart, and checked his hitherto indomitable spirit. According to some historians he died of this unfeeling epistle, but it seems more likely that he died of eighty-one; the latter cause will suffice without the accelerating stimulant. Ximenes was too tough and stubborn to be extinguished by a letter, or by royal ingratitude, however pungently conveyed;

time

and disease had worn him out, and he bowed his head in obedience to the summons of the grim monarch of the grave, which was delivered simultaneously with the missive of the great temporal autocrat. He commenced a letter to King Charles in reply, but a few lines exhausted him, and the effort was suspended. On the 8th of November, 1517, his attenuated frame became the dust from whence all humanity derives its origin. His last words were those of the Psalmist, uttered in the Latin tongue, "In thee, O Lord, have I trusted; let me never be confounded." He was buried with great pomp, contrary to his own express desire. On his deathbed, and just before he received the last sacraments, he uttered these words, recorded by the listeners "I have no cause to afflict myself that I have ever done an injury or injustice during the whole course of my administration;

and

I indeed have all the reason in the world to believe, that I have never lost an occasion on which I could afford my assistance to any one that required it. With respect to the revenues, which as an ecclesiastic I have possessed, and of which I am now about to give an account to God, I most firmly and solemnly protest, that I have never diverted from its proper destination a single crown-piece to the advantage of myself and of my relations." We may believe in the sincerity of Ximenes, whose life furnished the best comment upon his creed; but how are we to reconcile the similar

dying avowal of Richelieu, who said, in the same extremity-"I am in the presence of the Judge, who will speedily pronounce my sentence. I entreat of him, with my whole heart, to condemn me, if, during my ministry, I have ever been guided by other thoughts than the interests of religion and my native country." Ximenes was inflexibly conscientious: Richelieu knew not the meaning of the word (we judge by the positive actions and apparent motives of both). The latter seems to have been an ultra-expedientist a man who cared not how his ends were accomplished, and who used the name of Christianity as a convenient and controlling implement. The Spaniard was sincere; the Frenchman a hypocrite or an unbeliever; and yet both, in their last moments, appealed from the judgment of men, to a more absolute and awful tribunal, in nearly the same words, and with a corresponding confidence. Here is one of the enigmas of human feeling which we strive in vain to unravel or understand. The greatest criminals, the most licentious offenders, often die as calmly as the uniformly virtuous, and appear to be as well satisfied that mercy will be extended to their transgressions. Ximenes was altogether one of the most extraordinary men that ever lived. Impartial posterity can detect that his politics were sometimes wrong, but his motives and principles were invariably right. He was sometimes less scrupulous of means than true apostolic religion sanctions, but his violent and extreme measures had no taint of selfishness. His polar star was duty, and from that he never deviated. This inward conviction of integrity in purpose led him to adopt measures which would have been more satisfactory, and more completely justifiable, had they been carried out by a milder and more strictly orthodox course.

But

in all this he had no thought of himself, and neither rewarded nor punished from private predilection or personal pique. He despised libels, lampoons, and caricatures, by which great and strong minds have been disturbed; he equally repudiated indirect support or justification, and resolved to govern by the innate virtue of power combined with integrity. With unbounded resources, he provided for no poor relations, and left no private pensions to impoverish the exchequer of the

VOL. XLIV.NO. CCLXIII.

cumulated savings were settled on the university of his own creation. Flechier describes his character as follows: "As dexterous as Ferdinand himself in the art of governing mankind, he infinitely surpassed him in the qualities of the heart: noble, magnificent, generous, the protector of innocence, of virtue, and of merit, he conceived and executed no plans but those which were of use to mankind. Yet, as everything human must have some alloy, his excellent qualities were occasionally tarnished by severity, by obstinacy, and by ambition. Of his merit, perhaps, no greater testimony can be given, than that his sovereign, Ferdinand, who hated him in his heart, at his death appointed him regent of his kingdom."

A parallel between Ximenes and Richelieu was written by the Abbè Richard in 1705, which Prescott has quoted and referred to. The points of resemblance are somewhat forced, and the balance inclines heavily in favour of the Spaniard. A marked distinction attended the circumstances of their deaths. Richelieu was so universally execrated, that a popular tumult accompanied his funeral, and his remains were in danger of being torn from the grave and scattered to the elements. Ximenes was carried to the sepulchre amidst universal tears and lamentations. But in one point there was a striking similarity between them. Both were true members of the church militant, and braved the dangers of war with the alacrity of practised soldiers. Richelieu fought at Rochelle in the panoply of a man at arms, and Ximenes headed his troops against the infidels of Oran. His biographer Gomez de Castro says, that he once declared himself that "the smell of gunpowder was more grateful to his senses than the sweetest perfume of Arabia.” His military propensities may have influenced his decisive and arbitrary legislation.

Most readers like to know something of the personal appearance and habits of any remarkable individual who has excited their curiosity or interest. No one will figure Ximenes to their mind's eye as other than gaunt, graceless, and unprepossessing. Long before he attained middle life, the penitential severities to which he had accustomed himself reduced his frame

2 R

to the attenuated appearance of an anatomie vivante. Continence and abstemiousness, while it rendered him outwardly rugged and repulsive, strengthened his constitution, and gave vigour to the seeds of life. Yet he

carried his personal privations to such an extent that his health suffered in consequence, and during his latter years he endured much from changes of the atmosphere and inclement weather. He slept little, ate less, and listened more than he talked. He cared not for general conversation, and was seldom roused to participate eagerly, unless when the topic happened to be some leading question of theology. His style was short, clear, and straight to the point. If a tedious visitor wearied him, he took up a book as a signal that it was time for the intruder to go.

When he spoke, his voice was clear, though somewhat harsh, and the accents came slowly from his lips. His carriage was erect, his forehead unwrinkled, his stature tall, his features sharp and thin, his eyes small, dark, and deep set, and the general expression of his countenance, repulsive and severe. His cranium was exa

mined forty years after his death, and found to be totally without sutures. That of Richelieu, on the contrary, was ascertained to be perforated with small holes. The Abbè Richard reasons on this after a manner which may amuse comparative anatomists, physiologists, and surgeons. He says, "On opening the head of Richelieu, twelve small circular holes were discovered, through which the vapours of his brain exhaled, and for this cause he never had a pain in his head; on the other hand, the skull of Ximenes was without seam or opening, which accounts for the terrible headaches with which he was almost incessantly afflicted."

We may safely conclude that Richelieu was the most accomplished and agreeable of the two great cardinalministers; Ximenes the safest and most honest. Both were to be feared, but one only could be trusted. In the former, we are called on to admire transcendent ability; in the latter, we bow with more respect before the same exalted genius, because we find it linked with far superior integrity of purpose, and a much higher degree of constitutional virtue.

THIS is one of the books which we should be glad to see in everyone's hands, and which it is yet very difficult adequately to describe. It is a book which we are disposed to class with Southey's Memoir of Henry White, or Russell's of Charles Wolfe. Mackintosh died early, but left no duty unfulfilled; and the hopes that could not but have been entertained of him, though not fulfilled, even to the extent which was permitted to be realised in the career of Kirke White and of Wolfe, in works that will be perma nent in our literature, can scarcely be said to be altogether disappointed, when from journals kept for his own eye alone, and from his letters to a few friends, such a volume as the present has been put together. The accident of Southey's seeing a pert re

view of a young man's poems led to the incidents which have made White's name familiar to all readers; and it is probable that the memoir of Wolfe would never have been compiled, had not an acquaintance of Byron's told the world, that Byron spoke in such praise of Wolfe's lines to Moore, as to make his companion think they must have been written by Byron himself; and Byron's, forthwith, Captain Med. win would have them to be. To such accidents would it seem that what is called Fame is to be referred. The present book owes its existence as a book to the wish of several of Mr. Mackintosh's friends, that some record of his virtues should exist. It was felt, that a faithful record of a student's life, who devoted himself with singular earnestness to the studies

which would most fitly prepare him for future usefulness, could not be without a beneficial effect on young men. In that feeling a requisition was directed to Mr. Macleod, to draw up such a narrative; and this volume is the result.

No part of the interest arises from any such struggle with adverse circumstances, as is too often the case with the student, not alone in Scotland, but everywhere. There were here no pecuniary or other difficulties to contend with. Somewhat less is told us than we could wish of Mackintosh's family. We think it, in every case, desirable, that distinct information should be given of the position of a family; of the profession or occupation of the father; of the number and ages of brothers and sisters; in short, that we should be able to realise for ourselves, as far as possible, some picture of the persons among whom the person, whose life we are reading, actually lived. It is probable that Mr. Macleod assumes this to be familiarly known in Mackintosh's case, and so, perhaps, it is in Scotland; but this is a book which thousands like ourselves will read with little or no knowledge of such facts; and to the extent to which such aid is withheld by the biographer must the picture, which our imagination would create, be imperfect.

John Mackintosh was born in Edinburgh, on the 9th of January, 1822; he was the youngest son of William Mackintosh of Geddes, in the county of Nairn, by his second marriage: his mother was daughter of James Jollie, Writer to the Signet, Edinburgh.

At two years old he was removed from Edinburgh to Geddes; and here he remained till, at six years of age, he was brought back to school, in Edinburgh, where, till 1837, the early part of his education was conducted. During 1837 and 1838, he attended the classes in Glasgow; in 1839 and 1840 in Edinburgh; and in 1841 hé entered Trinity College, Cambridge.

While at Glasgow, he lived in the house of the Rev. Dr. Macleod; and there, we presume, his acquaintance with his future biographer, Dr. Macleod's son, commenced. While at Edinburgh, before going to Glasgow, and afterwards at Glasgow, his attention to study was unremitting; and he obtained whatever honours and distinc

tions talent and diligence could command. When he returned to Edinburgh, it would appear that a period of comparative idleness followed; and though he studied diligently at Cambridge, he was not as successful there as in Glasgow. Till he was about twenty, his profession cannot be said to have been fixed. His father wished him to study the law, but yielded to his son's wish to enter the Church. If our readers should translate this into any meaning which assumes his becoming a minister of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, whether among the clergy of the Establishment or of the Free Church, he should be wrong, for Mackintosh was, at first, quite undecided on the subject, and it at one time seemed by no means unlikely that he would have taken orders in the Church of England. His final determination was for the Free Church of Scotland.

Geddes might be properly called his home it was there his parents, and brothers, and sisters lived; it was there his childhood had been passed, and there were all his vacations spent:

"The district of country in which it is situated is eminently beautiful. From the windows of his room, he beheld a landscape whose foreground was made up of cultivated fields, varied and broken by copse and woodland; while the horizon was bounded along the north by the bold line of the coast of the Moray Firth, ending in the western distance with the great Ben Wyvis, itself a constant object of attraction to the eye amidst all the changes of sunshine and cloud, storm and calm, which passed over its huge mass from morn till sunset. In the immediate neighbourhood of Geddes, and surrounding the homes of familiar friends, were scenes eminently beautiful; with innumerable unnamed spots and sequestered nooks of loveliness, known only to those who like himself searched for them as for hidden treasure; for that intense love of nature which through life ⚫ haunted him like a passion,' possessed him from his earliest years, and was daily, almost hourly, gratified by those rural glories among which he lived and delighted to wander.

Cawdor's woods and romantic burn; the majestic forest of Darnaway, with the arrowy Findhorn sweeping through it; and Findhorn's banks, so endless in their varied beauty and wild grandeur, adorning it: Dulcie with its lonely moorlands, and Lochin-dorb the only thing which seems to have life among the silent hills of rock and heather that surround it - these were his familiar friends and prized companions.

"In the constant habit of mingling with good society in his own home (which, I may be permitted to say, was noted for its hospitality), those tastes and habits were early cultivated that make up the gentleman — a name often much abused and grievously misapplied, but which I use here to express not merely that outward manner in which art is discoverable only by the simplicity and unaffected naturalness which it has aided to produce, but more especially that inward sense of propriety, delicacy of feeling, and nice perception of what is due to others, which are the joint product of a benevolent heart, and the habitual influence of good society."-pp. 2, 3.

He is described while at Glasgow as ⚫ never having been absent even once from his class, nor even once late. His biographer says that such diligence is ordinarily associated with hard and ungraceful manners, and that such students are found by their acquaintances harsh and unsympathising. Such was not the case with Mackintosh :

"Though not attending the same classes, I was then in the same University, and lived in the same house with him. His private and public life are vividly before me; and never certainly was a student more beloved as well as admired. With all the sobriety, thoughtfulness, and self-control of a man, he had the merry-heartedness, buoyancy, and unaffected playfulness of a child. His manner was habitually quiet and full of repose; his temper never ruffled; his spirits never greatly excited or depressed. No man had a keener appreciation of the ludicrous as well as of the grave side of things, and his mirth was as real when it was time to laugh, as was his sorrow when it was time to weep. But the feature of his character which the friends of his early as well as of his latter years will most associate with him, was the utter unselfishness of his disposition, and that atmosphere of gentle kindness to all around him, in which he constantly lived and breathed, and which nothing ever disturbed. This love was manifested in everyday life, not merely by the total absence of all envy, detraction, hard speeches, and harsh judgments, but also in a sensitive considerateness for the wishes of others, and an habitual watchfulness to please without ever being obtrusive. Is there a single friend of his who can hear his name mentioned without also remembering the countenance beaming with affection; the hearty grasp of the hand at meeting or parting; and the quickened step and often warm embrace, which marked the ending of longer periods of separation! He was, in one word, even then known as one of the most cheerful, humble-minded, sincere, and loveable of men."—pp. 6, 7.

The first winter in Edinburgh, where everything was new, is described as a period of idleness. It probably was; but if he did nothing worse than read "Charles O'Malley," which is here recorded as among his delinquencies, he may be forgiven. We find in the second winter the following mentioned as his hours of study:

"The following were now his hours of study-Rise at six, read Scriptures to seven and a-half; study to nine; then breakfast, College, walk, &c., to three; study, three to four; meditation, &c., four to five; dine, and light reading, five to six; six to eight, study; eight to nine, tea, &c.; nine to ten, study; then, ten to eleven, prayers, and to bed.'"-p. 29.

In 1841 he accompanied Professor Forbes on a geological ramble through the Isle of Arran; and afterwards on an expedition to the south of Franceto geologise, learn French, and prosecute elementary mathematics for Cambridge, which he proposed entering in the following October. He left Edinburgh on the last day of May London and all its sights as fast as he could ran down to Cambridge to see what it was like then back to London and from it with Forbes to Dover.

saw

"In Paris, he was introduced to the world of art, which from that day became to him as the gift of a new sense. Good music he had known from his infancy; but great paintings he had never seen till now, and the effects of this glorious vision, when it first flashes upon the mind, they alone can tell who have experienced it. But Paris was soon left, and Lyons, the arrowy Rhone, and the sunny south reached. The district of country through which they journeyed included the Departments of the Ardêche and Auvergne, and is one of the most picturesque in landscape, as well as remarkable in the field of geology. Of singular fertility and beauty, its chief interest lies in the history which is clearly written, as with 'a pen of iron on the rocks for ever' - of a remote and distant age long antecedent to the creation of man, when fresh-water lakes once dotted the surface of the land, on whose banks huge mammalia roamed of forms now unknown; and of a later, but still far distant period, when those lakes were elevated by subterranean forces into platforms of dry land, while other lakes took their place, and other kinds and races of animals tenanted the land and water; and when at last volcanoes, long extinct, became active, and poured forth their lava streams, damming