here, that, during the thirteenth century, arose the celebrated Averroes, an author, who, although ignorant of the Greek language, had become so passionately fond of the philosophy of Aristotle, as it appeared in the Arabic translations, that he devoted his life to the task of writing a commentary upon his favourite philosopher,† endeavoured with unwearied diligence to entwine his principles into the system of Mahomedan jurisprudence and theology, and succeeded in making the name and sect of the Averroists for some time almost as famous in Europe as that of his great master. ‡

We have seen the enlightened state of Arabia and Spain, while the rest of the world was involved in comparative darkness and ignorance. One only thing seemed wanting. This was some mode by which the more distant and benighted regions of Europe should profit by the dispersion of these works, whose originals had been destroyed, or still lay buried in the East, and for this purpose a set of men soon appeared, whose habits and profession peculiarly fitted them to transport the scientific and literary stores of the East into the west of Europe. These were the Jews, a na tion devoted by heaven to a life of wandering, acute and learned in the languages of both hemispheres, and from their general profession as physicians, acceptable guests in most countries which they visited. They brought from Spain not only the works of the Arabians who had settled in that kingdom, but of the remoter philosophers and literati of Bagdat, § and not contented with being the mere carriers and retailers of philosophy, they availed themselves of their knowledge of the Arabic, and published translations of some of the best Grecian authors from the Arabic text into the Hebrew. ||

Such was the state of Arabian literature in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, such the fate and fortunes of the Aristotelian philosophy amongst the followers of the prophet at the time when Frederic the Second de

Brucker, Vol. III. p. 105.

+ Casiri, Vol. I. p. 184. Brucker, Vol. III. p. 97.

termined, through the medium of these Arabic translations, to restore the works of the Stagirite to the learned world of Europe.

In obedience to the injunctions of the Emperor, Michael Scott commenced his labours, nor did he conclude them till he had translated and commented on the greater part of the works of the philosopher. He had already completed at Toledo a translation of Aristotle's History of Animals. The manner in which this work commences is solemn and singular. "In the name," says he, "of our Lord Jesus Christ, the omnipotent, the compassionate, and the Holy God, here begins that dissertation which Aristotle composed upon the knowledge of the natures of animals, both of the land and the sea, translated by Master Michael Scott at Toledo." He has prefixed to the work some leonine verses, explaining, in barbarous Latinity, the order and arrangement of the subject. Michael seems to have been an enthusiast in Natural History, for we find, that, in addition to his labours upon the brute creation, he wrote an abridgment of Avicenna's Commentaries on Aristotle's History of Animals. + His work is preserved in MS. at Oxford, and was printed nearly two centuries after at Venice. It was addressed personally to Frederic the Great, in language very different from the common strain of adulation employed by authors towards princes. With them the royal name is adopted as conferring a borrowed lustre upon the work: with Michael, it is the book which is to shed a glory upon the Emperor, "to become an honour to his head, and a chain to his neck,' "-" gratia capiti tuo et torques collo tuo." A man who writes in

* See Anton. Wood, Hist. Oxon. p. 287. Abdita naturæ quæ sunt mihi cognita jure Hic liber ostendit-ubi sic narratio tendit Primo narrando, sed causas postea dando Post partes pecorum distinguo membra

virorum.

p. 168.

Casiri, Vol. I. p. 181.

Coll. Mert. Q. i. 10.

Antony Wood, p. 287. The title of

so singular and confident amanner could hardly have been in a dependent situation. He must have enjoyed the confidence and friendship of the Emperor. In addition to these translations, the Magician wrote, at the request of his royal master, a book entitled "Liber Introductorius, sive Judicia Quæstionum," composed, as Antony Wood informs us, purposely for fresh scholars, and such that were raw in judgment. + It is a large volume, and embraces the whole science of astronomy and the sister art of astrology. His other works are very voluminous. They consist of commentaries upon the ten books of the Ethics, and nearly the whole of the physics of Aristotle, in which he probably followed the Arabic version of Averroes, who had commented upon and translated the treatises on the same subject.

(To be continued.)

THE BYSTANDER.

No. IV.

WHEN the peaceable anchoret leaves his secluded abode, and ventures to go forth into the busy haunts of men, he proceeds at first with a slow and cautious step, he avoids the crowd, and pursues his noiseless way unchecked and unheeded. But he herds

the first book runneth thus: " Incipit liber de Animalibus, Aristotelis, translatus ab Arabico in Latinum per Magistrum Michaelem Scotum. Frederice Domine Mundi Imperator suscipe devote hunc librum Michaelis Scoti, ut sit gratia capiti tuo et torques collo tuo." Antony commits an error in confounding Michael Scott with Michael Ephesius, who also wrote a commentary on three of the books of Aristotle, "De Partibus Animalium," published at Florence in 1548. These two philosophers were quite different persons. See Brucker, Vol. III. p. 543. An edition of this was published at Venice, anno 1493. Casiri, Vol. I. in his catalogue of Avicenna's works, mentions "Liber de

Animalibus."

The "Liber Introductorius" is preserved in MS. in Bib. Bod. inter Cod. Juris, NE. Tom. X. 3. "Est liber grandis, scriptus hortatu Imperatoris Frederici tempore Papæ Innocentii IV. et continet totam astronomiæ et astrologiæ scientiam." Tanner Biblioth. p. 526.

Hist. Oxon. p. 287.

not long with men ere the passions and the feelings of man return to that bosom whence they had been entirely banished. He does not long remain content with being merely a spec tator of the actions of others; he cannot stand unconcerned and see the beings to whose species he belongs, wandering around in endless maze,

some to undo, and some to be undone." On one side he perceives a multitude eagerly striving to catch what appear to them balls of gold, but which he knows to be painted bubbles that will burst in their grasp. On another he beholds a vast assemblage employed in penetrating into bowels of the earth, in search of the hidden treasures of the mine; they see only the shining vein, which gives promise of abundant wealth; but he sees the opening fissure in the rock above them growing wider and wider still, and all the mighty mass about to be precipitated on their devoted heads. Here he perceives a man toiling up a steep and hazardous path in order to reach an eminence where a tempting prize is placed; keeping his eye steadily fixed on the object of his desire, the anxious pilgrim looks neither to the right hand nor the left; he sees not him, who, having ascended the rock by an easier way, is about to snatch away that good for which he has exhausted all the energies of life. There he beholds some deluded mortals following a wavering and uncertain light, which having led them to wander through difficult and thorny paths, is at length conducting them to the brink of a precipice. Can he who thus contemplates at one glance actions and their consequences, continue to gaze, with a calm and stoical regard, on these melancholy displays of human ignorance? Can he remain satisfied with enjoying his own exemption from these evils? No; urged by the desire of saving his fellow men, he rushes amongst the crowd, he warns, he exhorts, he entreats. Some of the astonished multitude gaze on him in stupid wonder; while others, rudely assaulting him, cry, disturb us not with thy senseless bab "Hie thee hence, old madman, and bling." Repulsed in one quarter, he endeavours to make himself heard in another; but in vain: to the votaries of pleasure, of wealth, of ambition, and of science, he is alike unwelcome;

and, worn out with his unsuccessful efforts, he returns sighing to his cell; saying as he goes, "Fare thee well, thou vain world; no more shall I undertake the fruitless task of awakening thee from the dreams of folly."

If thanks be the coin in which he who holds the office of public monitor expects to be paid, I fear his pittance will be too slender to induce him long to continue in the discharge of his arduous and often unpleasant duties; but, if he look for his reward in the benefits he may possibly confer on his brethren, he must persevere in his efforts, undismayed by the taunts or the reproaches he may receive. Though he does not permit himself to point his shafts in any particular direction, yet, when he shoots them among the crowd, he knows well that they have the peculiar property of hitting those only for whom they were intended. Even in the armour of pride there are some joints where haply he may penetrate; and, although he who is pierced should instantly pluck out the arrow, yet, if its point has left behind it a drop of the spirit of truth, the friendly wound will be productive of a salutary effect. Where the reproofs of the moralist have been opposed, misrepresented, or not rightly understood, he must calmly and patiently defend his opinions, or explain his meaning.

I was both surprised and concerned to observe the suspicions to which my last paper has given rise. To hear myself called a "satirical knave," was rather amusing; me, of whom it used to be said, "There goes that lump of good-nature, Davy M- !" But it was with different feelings that I observed myself accused of aiming an insidious blow at the Established Church of my country. I am not one of those political religionists who abound so much in the present day. I do not use Church and King as the watch-word of a party. I do not inculcate in my writings the principles of religion and morality as a matter of good policy, while my tongue denies all belief in the former, and my actions evince a total disregard of the latter. If a few serious reflections intermingle themselves with almost every subject that occurs to me, it is because I have lived to know the va nity of all that does not tend to carry our thoughts beyond this fleeting

world. With these opinions, the accusation of which I complain must necessarily be considered by me as a serious charge, and one from which I am most anxious to be acquitted. All I can do at present towards my exculpation is, to disavow, in the most solemn manner, the intention imputed to me, and to trust that this assertion will find its corroboration in the general tenor of the sentiments I express.

When I elected myself to the important office I now hold, I did not fully take into account, that, even in this manner of holding intercourse with society, there was a probability of encountering some of those jarring rubs which it has been, through life, my chief care to avoid. I believe, however, that the apprehension of such shocks is to me much more formidable than the reality; for when once I feel myself fairly jostled in the crowd, I have that sort of dogged obstinacy in my composition which prompts me to square my elbows, and bustle through. I did not so soon expect to be called upon to act on the defensive; but I am glad that my peaceful meditations have been disturbed by the gentle tap of a friend, rather than by the blow of an enemy.

When I observed that my true and faithful narrative of the adventures that befel me on the fourth of May last, had drawn down upon me a rebuke from the Editorial Court, I perceived with Zadig, "combien il est dangereux quelquefois de dire ce qu'on a vu." I have given a relation of facts, which I am not conscious of having exaggerated in the smallest degree; and if the theory I have founded upon these facts be incorrect, if I have drawn a general conclusion from particular instances, I am not the first wise man who has been guilty of such an error. But I beg leave, with all the deference and humility which be comes a subaltern in remonstrating with his superior, to insinuate, that I have been called upon to defend a position which I never laid down. I do not recollect to have said any thing from which it might be inferred that I was making comparisons between past and present times. I shall not here defend our grandsires and grandmothers from the imputation of having been as bad as we are; and the graceless lawyers, and tippling lairds, I leave to their fate.

If it be the part of a friend to con4gratulate another on his virtues, to bid him compare himself with others, and say, "I am more righteous than they," I might easily increase the selfcomplacency of my native city. I could not, it is true, venture to bid her look how the Sabbath was kept within her own precincts forty years ago, but I might safely institute a comparison between her and the sister metropolis, which would clearly prove her claim to superior strictness in religious observances. Let us view a London Sabbath, that welcome day of rest,for post-office clerks, and mail-coach horses. (There is no Sabbath for hacks.) Even there a man of strict religion is expected to attend morning service; but this over, his evening employments are far more diversified than those of his less enlightened brethren in the northern capital. He may accelerate the pace of the lazy-footed hours by listening to the strains of soft harmony; and should he not possess sufficient taste to relish the lofty melodies of Handel or Haydn, his obliging musicians will not hesitate to favour him with the sacred lays of "Fly not yet," or "Will you come to the Bower." Nay, should he possess no soul for music, or should he have had excess of it, he may finish the day with a quiet rubber at whist. Fastidious, indeed, would he be thought who should dare to whisper the word Sabbath-breaker, when speaking of this our exemplary moral man. His friends would rise up in arms to defend him. "Go to Paris," would they say, "and learn there what vice is; ignorant and narrow-minded must he be who would apply a term so harsh to the enlightened and rational piety of one who is free from the foibles of bigotry and superstition." To Paris, then, we go; and what a scene meets our astonished gaze! The ball, the theatre, the spectacle of every kind attended on the evening of that day by crowds more brilliant and more numerous than are ever assembled to gether on any of the other six days of the week. Some liberal-minded people, I know, attempt to excuse this by saying, that they who act thus consider the Sabbath as being ended whenever they quit the place of public worship. Let this be admitted, what then? Who gave them leave

to limit the duration of the Sabbath to a few hours? If it be altogether an invention of man, it is a mockery to devote any part of it to religious exercises; if it is ordained by a higher power, it ought to be kept in the manner He commanded. "The seventh day is the Sabbath." Twenty-four hours are considered as the complement of each of the other six days; why then, or upon what authority do they substract any hours from the seventh? And if they do substract them, to what day do they belong? They form, I suppose, an eighth day, devoted to the worship and service of him who is called the Prince of this World, and who with great propriety might be called the God of Paris. Have we at last found the seat of vice? No. The Parisians will send us

If self-esteem be a propensity whose cultivation is desirable, let Edinburgh compare herself with any other metropolis, and she will have good reason to boast. Not only are her places of public amusement inaccessible on the Sunday evening, but her cautious inhabitants look withi a jealous eye even on sacred music, when its introduction is attempted; and I may safely affirm, that in no house of respectability was there at any time a pack of cards produced on the evening of a Sabbath day. Yet I must not dwell too long on our privations, lest I should frighten such of our southern brethren as have not yet crossed the Tweed, from venturing into a country so little civilized. Even here we are not absolutely confined to reading our Bibles, and catechising our children. A man may content himself with going to church once a day; he may spend the time of afternoon service in lounging along Prince's Street, or in discussing the affairs of the nation in a coffee-room. He may return home, dine with a party of select friends, and spend the evening in reviewing the merits of the various literary productions of the day. If all this be somewhat foreign to the necessary duty of preparing for eternity, it certainly appears venial when compared with those flagrant breaches of the divine law which we meet with elsewhere.

But after all this is admitted, when

it has been fully proven that Edinburgh is less vicious than London, and infinitely less vicious than Paris, does it follow from hence that it is as virtuous as it should be? Is it enough to be better than the very bad? Or should human beings, in estimating their progress towards perfection, remain contented with thus "comparing themselves among themselves?" Many will here be ready to exclaim, that it is not negative qualities alone of which we have to boast, that we are possessed of much positive good, and they will instance the vast increase of Bible and Missionary Societies, of Clothing Societies, and Visiting Societies, and Charity Schools, as a proof of our rapidly increasing love of virtue and religion. Far be it from me to say that these are not proofs of the existence of religion within our walls; it is by actions alone that man can judge of man; and where we see abundance of fruit, we have good reason to believe that the plant is healthy and vigorous. But those Societies, numerous as they may appear, include but a small proportion of the community; and it is of the majority, and to the majority, that I now speak. Neither can it be denied that those very Societies are, by the gay and fashionable, held in contempt and ridicule; they have, therefore, no right to expect that these should be admitted as pleas in their behalf. When we talk of Edinburgh in the aggregate, we say, it is a religious city; we are asked to produce our proofs, and we bring forward some of those above mentioned; does not this give some reason to suspect that those are but shining spots, rendered more conspicuous by the darkness around them? So long as we can say of religion, "Lo! it is here, or lo! it is there," may we not fear that it rather resembles the rich tints of sunset, gilding a few scattered points, while the broad shadows are lengthening all around, than the bright noon day, which enlightens every object, giving to each an equal brilliancy? Oh! may it not be like the sunset, lest the twilight be succeeded by a night of darkness; may it rather resemble the morning light, shining more and more unto the perfect day!

If there be a tendency towards decay in that piety for which Scotland has so long been renowned, I am far

from imputing it to any carelessness or lukewarmness in its ministers. The Church of Scotland never at any period abounded more in eminent and enlightened clergymen than it does at present. Admirer as I am of Chalmers, I do not by any means (as my good friend the Editor seems to suppose) think him per se. If there be few who possess his uncommon force of style, and originality of manner, there are many who equal him in piety and ability-in sound principle and sound argument. If I were to sum up in one the many causes which I conceive to have contributed to produce that indifference about the affairs of a future world, with which, I fear, we of the present day are chargeable, I would pronounce that cause to be-the insatiable appetite for pleasure which now pervades all ranks. The love of pleasure is inherent in every mind, and an attempt to extinguish it would be equally vain and injudicious. Some enlivening recreation, or, at least, some pause from the heavier cares of life, is as necessary to refresh and invigorate the mind, as sleep is to renovate the strength of the body. But, as a constant slumbering would weaken the strongest body, so does a perpetual immersion in the waves of pleasure enervate our mental faculties, and unfit us for opposing that sea of troubles to which, during our pilgrimage here, we are often exposed. The great and the wealthy, not being occupied with that anxiety in providing their daily bread, which forms the chief interest of the greater part of mankind, have always been liable to this evil; but it is only within these few years that pleasure has become the business of all ranks,that the peer, the esquire, and the tradesman, have become alike eager in the pursuit, and insatiable in the en joyment. I do not say that we should relinquish pleasure, because it has a tendency to attach us too much to s fleeting world-I would not have life rendered disagreeable, that we might quit it with less regret; but neither would I have the short term of man's existence trifled away in a round of vain and frivolous ainusements, that alike detach him from the duties of this world, and banish all remembrance of another.

Perhaps it may be discovered, that, in vindicating a former error, I have