morning. His papers and books were on the table during the short interval which elapsed before he breakfasted. And again at dinner-time, the little space that intervened between his return home and his dinner being put upon the table was employed in the same way, unless indeed it was given to the organ. For, much as he delighted in music, almost the only time which he spent on it was this little interval at dinner-time, and the somewhat longer one in the twilight of evening, which so generally passes unoccupied, but which he had been accustomed to employ in this manner from a schoolboy, always distinguishing it then by the term of fiddling time, because he could make no other use of it. In his daily rounds at the Dispensary he was equally careful not to waste time, taking every short cut, and not disdaining to contrive how to save even a few steps, since all these savings in the aggregate procured him a little more time.

6

'He soon became a contributor to the diffusion of medical knowledge by his pen; and, devoting more time proportionately to reading, his studies were always protracted beyond midnight, generally till two or three o'clock in the morning, and sometimes resorting even at these hours again to his organ (and especially to the sacred pieces of Handel, in which he took great delight), for the relief of the mental fatigue he so incurred. His Dispensary Reports in the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal first introduced him to the public as a writer, for the distribution of an inaugural dissertation is of necessity very limited. To the establishment of that valuable periodical work by Dr. Duncan, junior, he gave very efficient support, being for some time its joint editor with that distinguished professor, and the late excellent Dr. Reeve of Norwich. Of the latter, his much-valued friend, he drew up an interesting biographical memoir, marked with great feeling, which was published in the eleventh volume. The eighth volume contains another of Dr. Willan from his hand. One of his earliest communications to the journal was an account of the Fever Institution. And, besides various articles of criticism, Dr. Bateman was the author of an entertaining number of the Inquirer, in the fifth volume of the same work, on the connection between minute anatomy and medicine; and of some separate contributions, the titles of which its index will supply.

'He wrote also the medical articles in Dr. Rees's Cyclopædia, from the letter C inclusive, with the exception of that on the History of Medicine, which was furnished by another hand during his absence from London; and the medical portion of the article Imagination there, as well as most of the professional biographies.

'Dr. Bateman wrote with great fluency. In writing for the Cyclopædia, he was in the habit of noting down on a scrap of paper the heads into which he thought of dividing his subject, then reading all the books upon, it which he had occasion to consult, after which he arranged in his mind all he proposed to say, so that when he began to write he considered his labour done. He wrote, indeed, as fast as his pen could move, and with so little necessity of correction or interlineation, that his first copy always went to press. Neither was any part of this process hastily or inconsiderately performed. He said that, to prepare for the single article Imagination, just now adverted to, he read the greater part of one-and-twenty volumes. pp. 58–62.

Here we have some facts which are not without interest, at least for studious men of every profession. But our eccentric biographer, in order, as it were, to compensate his discursive faculty for this portion of simple narrative, takes unto himself upwards of thirty pages, which he employs in a series of essays upon the following subjects the propriety of authors reading a great deal before they write the peculiar propriety of reviewers reading and considering well before they pass judgment: the importance of the press as an engine: the relief that is supplied to grave studies by occasional light reading: the affinity between natural history, poetry, and the fine arts: the character of true poetry: a comparison between poetry and philosophy; and, as if these subjects, and the properties of the imagination, were not sufficient for his purpose, just as we hoped he was approaching to a conclusion he cries out- It is difficult to refrain from a moment's glance into futurity!!' We should have thought that the difficulty lay the other way, and that it had been the labour of astrologers to obtain such a glance at any price. But our biographer, who is certainly no astrologer, pursues his fearless way into regions whither we cannot presume to follow him.

To return to Dr. Bateman, it is to be remarked that much as we have hitherto heard of his progress in study, and of his success in his profession, nothing as yet appears about his ideas of religion. In fact, he is admitted to have been all this time a materialist, and to have remained the victim of that cheerless and irrational doctrine, until the closing year of his life. The medical profession, in general, is said to be unhappily too prone to error in this respect; but we have seldom met with a case of infidelity in an individual, otherwise highly informed, more instructive in its circumstances than the one before us. It was on this account that we have called the attention of our readers to a piece of biography, which otherwise would scarcely have attracted our notice.

So severe were Dr. Bateman's occupations during the time he remained in London, that, at length, his health, which never was very strong, appeared visibly to break down beneath them. His first serious illness was in 1815, and exhibited its effects in the derangement of his digestive organs, and a gradual failure of sight. From that period until the year 1819 he continued, with little intermission, to decline in all his energies, and at length he determined on quitting London for Yorkshire, where, if his health improved, he intended to resume his profession. It was thought that he might receive some benefit from the sulphureous waters of Durham, but, on attempting to proceed thither, the languors to which he had been subject continually returned, and he was obliged to stop at Bishop Burton. At this stage of the narrative the author informs us that Dr. Bateman had first acquired his leaning towards materialism during his anatomical and physiological studies at Edinburgh, and that he was confirmed in it by the dissipations of gay society,'

which he contrived to mix with his severer studies,' during his subsequent residence in London. This lamentable tendency,' it is added, 'was strongly increased by his intimacy with some men of considerable talent, who had already espoused all the principles of that unhappy system.'

It appears that, during his detention at Bishop Burton, his friends were enabled to draw his attention to the subject of religion. He acknowledged the state of his mind with respect to it, adding that medical men were very generally sceptical, and that the mischief arose from what he considered a natural tendency of some of their studies to lead to materialism.' He spoke of his former habits with regret, and listened attentively to several portions of the scripture, which were read to him by his mother: but, before she had proceeded far in the New Testament, he suddenly exclaimed 'that he could not believe in the miracles of the Saviour, and that, therefore, he must perish.' He was, for some time, thus afflicted by paroxysms of repentance and infidelity until his health was partially restored, and, during that period, he was silent on the subject of religion, though he read a great deal, with a view to satisfy himself of the truth of a divine revelation. It is satisfactory to know that he succeeded in that most important of all objects, and that upon a relapse, which terminated in his death, he was found firmly convinced of the leading principles of Christianity. His biographer thus describes his last moments:—

'It seemed remarkable, that though he had, during his whole illness, been very sensible of his increasing weakness, and had watched and marked accurately all its gradations, yet he spoke, in the last moments of his life, of going down stairs as usual (he had been carried up and down for several days), and said "it could not require more than a very few weeks now to wear him out;" not appearing to be at all aware that his end was so very near, till about half an hour before his death. Finding himself extremely languid, he took a little milk, and desired that air might be admitted into the room; and, on being asked if he felt relieved at all, said "Very little : I can hardly distinguish, indeed, whether this is languor or drowsiness which has come over me; but it is a very agreeable feeling." Soon after, he said suddenly, "I surely must be going now, my strength siuks so fast, I have almost lost the power of moving my limbs ;"and on my making some observation on the glorious prospect before him, he added, "Oh yes; I am GLAD to go, if it be the Lord's will!" He shut his eyes, and lay quite composed, and by and by said, 'What glory! the angels are waiting for me!"-then, after another short interval of quiet, added, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul!" and to those who were about him, "Farewell!" These were the last words he spoke: he gradually and gently sunk away, and in about ten minutes breathed his last, calmly and without a struggle.'— pp. 148-150.

It cannot be without its advantage to record, from time to time, examples such as that which we have here before us, of men of the first intelligence flying, in those moments of reflection which illness generally brings along with it, from the cold and unsubstantial doc

trines of materialism, to those consoling truths of revelation, which are, indeed, sufficiently strong on their own grounds, but which come to us, moreover, borne, as it were, by the voice of nature, and fitted, by their divine character, to harmonize with all the nobler impulses of the human mind. In such cases as these we would not nicely enquire into the particular sect, or the exact rule of faith, which the convert had adopted. These are questions that belong to a higher tribunal. It is sufficient for us to know that he was a Christian, and that in an age of unexampled profligacy, when a cloak is very generally made of religion for the violation of almost every precept which it enjoins, we are not without occasional warnings and admonitions as to the miseries of atheism on one side, and the solaces of christianity on the other.

It may be useful here to add the remarks of Dr. Bateman's biographer on the prevalence of scepticism among the medical profession.

The prevalence of scepticism among those whose time and talents are devoted to the acquisition of an intimate acquaintance with the structure and economy of the human frame, in which are displayed so many proofs of benevolence and design, has been apprehended by others before Dr. Bateman. And it has been thought strange besides, that those who witness, more, perhaps, than any other individuals, the influence of religion under the most trying difficulties of life, should be insensible to its importance, or hesitate to inquire into the grounds on which its truth is established. It is to be hoped that many more than are heard of, or are imagined, in the medical world, do, indeed, draw those conclusions from their peculiar opportunities and advantages; and live in those principles, the rejection of which is so naturally a matter of astonishment to others. Very illustrious examples are not wanting to prove, from time to time, that the knowledge of anatomy may indeed inspire religious sentiments. The inferences which the celebrated Harvey drew from his researches, and the acknowledged piety of Sydenham, of Boerhaave, and of Haller, are solid testimonies in favour of those great men. The general spirit breathing through the annual orations of Sir John Pringle before the Royal Society, is to the same salutary effect. The religious character of Mr. Hey, throughout his long and useful life, demonstrates, that neither the preliminary studies, nor the most diligent exercise of the practical duties of the medical profession, is inconsistent with the steadiest and most devoted attachment to the doctrines of the Bible. And Dr. Baillie, whose name is too fresh in our affections to be reverted to on any occasion lightly, was earnest in declaring his powerful mind against infidelity. The American student, who once drew forth at his table an eager expression of his belief in the Christian doctrine of future retribution, and of the necessity of that retribution to human nature, may now, perhaps, remember his admirable master with the more veneration for the emphasis and warmth of that striking and very characteristic moment. To the same purport may be adduced the following passage, as a pleasing evidence of the sentiments suggested to a medical writer directly by his subject. In treating of the preservatives against the inordinate fear of death, the late ingenious Dr. Reid observes, in his Essay on hypochondriasis, "The

Christian is still more highly privileged. His eye, happily invigorated by faith, is able to penetrate the thick mist which hangs over the tomb, and which, to our unassisted sight, intercepts any farther prospect. The light of divine revelation is, after all, the only light which can effectually disperse the gloom of a sick chamber, and irradiate even the countenance of death." —pp. 173–175.

ART. X. Four Years in France; or Narrative of an English Family's residence there during that period; preceded by some account of the Author's conversion to the Catholic Faith. 8vo. pp. 443. 148. London. Colburn. 1826.

Ir is no part of our avocation to offer any remarks upon that portion of the work before us, which describes the author's conversion to the Catholic faith. In a country where the principle of civil and religious liberty prevails, or ought at least to prevail, universally, it is highly indecorous for one man to set himself up as the judge of another in matters relating to conscience. It would be peculiarly indecent to question the sincerity of an individual, who seems to have taken a world of pains in order to obtain what he deemed correct information upon a subject of such transcendent importance, and to have sacrificed preferment, emolument, and early connections, to the pursuit of a religion which he has adopted after the most mature deliberation.

We shall therefore pass over the whole of this topic, and come at once to that part of the book which falls legitimately under our observation. Inundated as we have been for the last dozen of years with all sorts of travels all over the world, but especially over France and Italy, we now regularly open new books of this description without the slightest expectation of meeting in them anything like novelty. We may be allowed to say, without presumption, that we are as minutely acquainted with every city, town, and village, nay, every nook of the continent, as if we lived in each of them for a winter. Yet whether it is that we like to travel over our old paths again, or to awaken the pleasant associations which are connected with them, or to discover the different aspect under which different travellers observe them, we seldom sit down to a work of this description without experiencing a certain impulse of curiosity. If the writer be possessed of a moderate share of intelligence, if he be judicious enough to represent things exactly as they occur to him, and to mix up with his details of objects which are new to his eye a fair proportion of his personal feelings and adventures, he can hardly fail to repay the attention which we are predisposed to afford him. Thus he may impart to his journal the interest which biography always excites; he may decorate it with glimpses of the scenery which he has visited; and, without descending to fiction, he may render all his proceedings as much objects of curiosity with us, as if he had been the hero of a romance.