has grown from a stigma and a reproach to a title of highest honour for highest deeds. He died a simple soldier. We are glad it was so. We are now quite sure that he derived no honour, respect, dignity, influence, success, or encouragement from the fact of having moved in a higher social station than his fellows. As if to mock man's power Death took him before aristocracy could for one hour claim him for one of her own sons. So he took Cromwell, who, if he had lived, would probably have been a king, like many other mortals. Loving Death preserved him from this regal title to what to him would have been obscurity. He died a brave Christian. Centuries ago a martyr called his persecutors to him, 'You shall see,' he said, 'how a Christian can die.' With the same spirit the soldier-witness called his son, and said, in the same words, 'See, my son, how a Christian can die.' Let us now say with the great singer, His body is buried in peace; his name liveth evermore.' There is a people's subscription being made for erecting a memorial in stone of the Indian soldier. Some time ago a people's subscription was made for another brave man, whose monument stands by the water-side at Greenwich. If this one is to have any words inscribed upon it, let them be no legend of his life, but, like the monument to Bellot, the one sufficient inscription Havelock. Next to the death of Havelock in the later history of the Indian crisis will stand the defence of Lucknow. We have read Brigadier Inglis's narrative twice; and while we have failed to find anything so remarkable in the document as our daily and weekly contemporaries seem to have detected, we stand amazed at the fortitude and endurance of the garrison Never, perhaps, was faith more sorely tried; never religion more severely tested; never humanity more perilled. The gallantry, devotion, and selfsacrifice of this band might almost, we should think, revive even Mr. Carlyle's faith in the return of the heroic age. But the most remarkable characteristic of this siege was what may well be called the judicial blindness of the besiegers. At almost any time, if they had possessed half the keenness which their apparently devoted victims found to be necessary, they could have become masters of the place. On one occasion it seemed that nothing short of a miracle prevented them from taking advantage of the open and defenceless condition of the Residency. Is it too much, we will not say for a Christian journalist, but for any man, to say, God's protecting hand was evidently over that brave garrison? So the besiegers themselves felt. Under God's blessing,' writes Colonel Inglis, we worked.' And nothing but that blessing, and the consciousness of it, could have sustained the noble band. We meet, in this Lucknow narrative, with another evidence of a condition of character in the Indian army of which few, if any, in this country could have been before aware. There is a deep and a manly piety in its officers, if not in its men, to which we are inclined to ascribe much of the success which has attended the British arms. It is a fact that every successful leader of the army, from Sir H. Lawrence downwards, has been as distinguished for his Christian character and courage as for his successful generalship. The fact involuntarily disposes one to ask, What would have been the state of things if the profession of Christianity by soldiers had not been visited with such severe penalties by the East India Company? But this and similar false steps of this narrow-minded, sordid, arbitrary, and merely money-getting corporation, have prospect now of as sudden and signal a retribution as has ever overtaken a society of men. They that honour me I will honour,' saith the Lord; and they that despise me I will lightly esteem.' Their candlestick is now being removed out of its place. They are an object of scorn and contempt to their countrymen; they will soon cease even to exist. A similar significant retribution has overtaken ourselves. The only military difficulty now left in India is the disaffected state of the kingdom of Oude. Before the annexation of this kingdom its rulers and people were the firmest friends of the English Government that the English Government had retained in India. The probability is, that the whole of its 60,000 soldiers, and, as on former occasions, the entire pecuniary resources of the kingdom, would have been placed at our disposal. But the injustice was committed, and the military, monetary, and political power of the richest empire in Hindustan were immediately arrayed against us. Its powerful enmity is now the only hope of the insurgents, and the only barrier to the entire success of our arms. For what is our present position? Out of Oude every stronghold is ours. Some important lines of communication appear to have been recently interrupted by the enemy, but excepting the Oude district they have no single town of importance in their possession. Yet every one is of opinion that it will be months before peace is re-established. Oude, says every Indian writer, will evidently have to be reconquered. The waste of millions of treasure, of thousands of lives, and the breaking of how many hearts, God only knows,— this is the price we are now paying for our sanction of the ambitious projects and avaricious policy of the East India Company. These are some religious aspects of the mutiny that will have occurred, we have no doubt, to every reflecting reader, but there are literary aspects not less deserving of notice. The attitude assumed by the Times' newspaper has, we suppose, as much astonished its Church as its Dissenting readers. Its rapid strides towards a broad and full recognition of the voluntary principle has sometimes almost led us to mistrust the evidence of our senses. Is not this the 'Nonconformist?' Else how these new and wonderful views of the voluntary principle; of the spiritual character of Christ's kingdom; of the vice attending a state patronage of a particular sect; et hoc genus omnes? Does the Times' so read the shadows of the future that it sees the spirit of Christianity armed, like its Master when on earth, with the all-conquering power of an unworldly, and unselfish love-a free and unfettered action? Such it has proclaimed must be the future character of religion in India, and the world has received it as if it were only the application of an old and generally recognised principle. Not a writer but has said to it,' Amen.' But we must leave this and similar subjects, for a few brief observations on matters nearer home. Much has been written concerning the diabolical attempt on the life of the Emperor of the French, and it has gratified us to notice that the most sincere and indignant expressions of horror of this act have come from the pens of journalists who sympathize most deeply with the wrongs of Italy. If they and we condemned the great assassin of the 2nd of December, 1851, we must equally condemn any attempt at employing the same weapons in 1858. And more,-a bad weapon becomes a bad cause, but it may inflict mortal injury on a good one. Alas! therefore, for the misguided patriotism which sees not that Heaven never fights with the devil's tools, nor liberty with instruments that ought to be, and are commonly seen, only in a tyrant's hand. We open our political campaign this year with a marked and cheerful activity. The Guildhall Reform Committee are actively bestirring themselves in support of the manifesto of last month in favour of vote by ballot, a rate-payers' suffrage, and short Parliaments. The Religious Liberation Society are vigorously and effectively moving, on the platform and in the press, for entire religious freedom for India; and on the 27th inst. it made an influential and decisive representation on the church-rate controversy, to Lord Palmerston. The India Reform Society and the Peace Society are both giving 'line upon line' upon Indian administration, and the East India Company is aiding the controversy by giving a chance for an overwhelming defeat on its own platforms. And lastly, the happy royal marriage. We who mourn for Havelock, shall we not rejoice with Victoria? Do not the same bells toll at funerals that ring at weddings? and is not the bell that tolls most softly at the one the same that rings most cheerfully at the other? Oh! ring and ring again, to express a people's joy that the best of English sovereigns is a happy, as well as a successful ruler. As happiness is caused most by love outgoing, we question whether so much happiness was ever felt on any day in the history of this, our own England, as on Monday, January 25th, 1858. We are not ashamed to say, that on that day we took our holiday with the million in St. James's Park, in company with hearty and loyal workmen, clerks, and clergymen. We did our humble and unobserved homage as a grateful subject of the mother Queen; and if we had been one of the privileged few, etiquette would hardly have restrained us from joining the choir in the gorgeous chapel, in singing the new anthem :: 'God bless our Prince and Bride! God keep their lands allied! God save the Queen! Clothe them with righteousness, Crown them with happiness, • God bless thy marriage day,' fair Princess! May you be as true and faithful as your English mother, Victoria; as holy, and as secure in the hearts of your subjects as your great predecessor on the throne which it may be your privilege one day to occupy, the wife of another Frederick, the happy Louisa!" 128 TO CORRESPONDENTS. Note to the Article on Milton's History of England in the January Number. We think it will interest our readers as much as it has interested ourselves, to have laid before them the finest passage in English Literature, which Bishop Warburton compares with the one from Milton's History. We quote from the conclusion to Sir Walter Raleigh's History of the World.' They will agree with Warburton that there is no finer writing in the English tongue. If the Turner be equal to the Claude, the Claude is equal to the Turner. 'Since the fall of the Roman empire (omitting that of the Germans, which had neither greatness nor continuance), there hath been no state fearful in the East but that of the Turk; nor in the West any prince that hath spread his wings far over his nest but the Spaniard, who, since the time that Ferdinand expelled the Moors out of Granada, have made many attempts to make themselves masters of all Europe. And it is true, that, by the treasures of both Indies and by the many kingdoms which they possess in Europe, they are, at this day, the most powerful. But as the Turk is now counterpoised by the Persian, so, instead of so many millions as have been spent by the English, French, and Netherlands, in a defensive war and in diversions against them, it is easy to demonstrate that, with the charge of two hundred thousand pounds continued but for two years, or three at the most, they may not only be persuaded to live in peace, but all their swellings and overflowing streams may be brought back into their natural channels and old banks. These two nations, I say, are, at this day, the most eminent, and to be regarded the one seeking to root out the Christian religion altogether, the other the truth and sincere possession thereof; the one to join all Europe to Asia, the other the rest of all Europe to Spain. For the rest, if we seek a reason of the succession and continuance of this boundless ambition in mortal men, we may add to that which hath been already said, that the kings and princes of the world have always laid before them the actions, but not the ends of those great ones which preceded them. They are always transported with the glory of the one, but they never mind the misery of the other, till they find the experience in themselves. They neglect the advice of God while they enjoy life, or hope it, but they follow the counsel of death upon his first approach. It is He that puts into man all the wisdom of the world with out speaking a word, which God, with all the words of his law, promises, or threats, doth infuse. Death, which hateth and destroyeth man, is believed. God which hath made him, and loves him, is always deferred. "I have considered," saith Solomon, "all the works that are under the sun, and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit;"-but who believes it till death tells it us? It was death which, opening the conscience of Charles the Fifth, made him enjoin his son Philip to restore Navarre; and king Francis, the first of France, to command that justice should be done to the murderers of the Protestants in Merindol and Cabrienes, which, till then, he neglected. It is, therefore, death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself. He tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects—and humbles them at the instant, makes them cry, complain, and repent; yea, even to hate their fore-passed happiness. He takes the account of the rich, and proves him a beggar, a naked beggar, which hath interest in nothing but in the gravel that fills his mouth. He holds a glass before the eyes of the most beautiful, and makes them see therein their deformity and rottenness-and they acknowledge it. O, eloquent, just, and mighty death whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none have dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world, and despised; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words: Hic jacet.' THE MONTHLY CHRISTIAN SPECTATOR. MARCH, 1858, On the Method of Life. (BEING TWO LETTERS.) I.-M. G. TO R. B. W. DEAR MR. W.,-It certainly does appear to my mind that our conversation the other evening upon the Method of Life, considered as flexible or inflexible, requires clearing up, and (as I know you like plain speech I will say) especially your own share of it. Starting from the question, whether or not a particular individual was or was not justified in sacrificing domestic affection to go upon a mission, we reached I should rather say you dragged me and the rest of the company-to the general question of the comparative moral dignity and worth of Force and Tenderness. That soon brought us into a situation in which I thought you set Affection above Duty, just as you carried Thought over the head of Action. From that, passing to Character and Conduct in general, I lost hold of you altogether. What, I would ask, is Duty, and what are the rights of Duty, and what am I to do when Duty calls one way and Affection calls another? I have often heard you say, you think the Method of Life very much relaxed in these days, but if anything could relax it more, it must surely be a view which tends to exalt mere feeling at the expense of obligation. I wish you could favour me with some explanatory words; for I do like to see my way. Vague ideas are my abhorrence. I must draw lines, set stakes, and keep landmarks. In fact, I must have something definite to go upon. Yours very truly, M. G. |