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the admiration of foreign nations; as a statesman, rivalled the hoary diplomasts of foreign courts in the magnitude of his plans, his foresight, his matchless skill, and the boundlessness of his resources. “Success,” says no friendly historian, "attended all his measures of foreign policy. He beat the Dutch, and forced their ships to strike their flags to the English. He took Jamaica from the Spaniards. Mazarin acknowledged him. The Venitians and Swiss sought his power. The northern courts respected him."
Let us now glance at his moral character, and at the motives which probably inspired and influenced his actions. Benevolence is large in his head, an organ indispensable to the pure republican. We believe that it was active, and exercised no small control over his life and political conduct. That he was ambitious, is certain ; but to represent him as animated by no disinterested purpose, is unjust.
Amid all his aims for self-aggrandisement, we see in him an abiding sympathy with that vast class of his fellow.beings, degraded and enslaved by social and political institutions. And we rejoice to think that, through the success of himself and party, a great blow was struck at a false and unnatural state of society. Many of his public acts tended to ameliorate the condition of the people. And Milton has told us, the Protector was at heart a philanthropist. Nor was he alone in this favourable opinion of Cromwell. Many of bis intimate companions have recorded their belief in the inherent goodness of his nature. And novelists of our own age, deriving their hints from impartial history, have adopted and made them the ground-work of their descriptions. The following scene, from Woodstock, represents Cromwell on the point of storming a castle, and seizing upon young Charles Stewart. It is beautifully discriminative, and full of characteristic lines and shades. Cromwell wavers and appears unwilling to grasp his prey, and Pearson, one of his officers, upbraids him for his doubt and hesitation. Cromwell sighed deeply as he answered, “ Ah, Pearson, in this troubled world, a man who is called like me, to work great things in Israel, had need to be as the poets feign, a thing made of hardened metal, immovable to feelings of human charities, . impassable, resistless. Pearson, the world will hereafter, perhaps, think of me as being such a one as I have described—'an iron man, and made of iron mould'—yet they will wrong my memory; my heart is flesh, and my blood is as mild as that of others. When I was a sportsman, I have wept for the gallant heron that was struck down by my hawk, and sorrowed for the hare which lay screaming under the jaws of my greyhound; and canst thou think it a light thing to me, that the blood of this lad's father lying in some measure
upon my head, I should now put in peril that of his son? They are of the kindly race of English sovereigns, and, doubtless, are adored like to demigods by those of their own party. I am called parricide, blood-thirsty usurper, already for shedding the blood of one man, that the plague might be stayed, or as Achan was slain, that Israel might thereafter stand against the face of their enemies. Truly it is a great thing, Gilbert Pearson, to be lifted above the multitude ; but when one feeleth that his exaltation is rather hailed with hate and scorn, than with love and reverence, in sooth it is still a hard matter for a mild and infirm spirit to bear; and God be my witness, that rather than do this new deed, I would shed my own best heart's blood in a pitched field twenty against one." The organ of Cautiousness was large in Cromwell's head, which, together with his Veneration and Marvellousness, may account for the gloomy and religious enthusiasm which, notwithstanding the imputation of hypocrisy, he unquestionably possessed. His intellect, however, was altogether too strong and acute not to perceive the absurdity of his more fanatic followers. To the diseased action of Cautiousness may also be attributed the hyponchondriasis under which he greatly , suffered in youth, and with which he was more or less afflicted during his life. His constant dread of plots and cabals—the armour worn beneath his usual garments to protect him from unexpected assaults—his sleeping in different chambers, and changing them every night, that he might repose secure from the assassin's knifethese, and many similar traits, show the strength and activity of his Cautiousness. We are aware his gloom and restlessness have been ascribed by some to remorse. But it was the same state of mind, only increased by the danger of the times, which had long before disturbed the repose of simple Oliver Cromwell, the brewer's son, who, although possessing a robust constitution, and in the enjoyment of great physical health, was aceustomed to summon his physician to his side at midnight, to save him from approaching dissolution. Fear is a very uncertain measure of guilt, and the degree of sin is the same, whether conscience sleep or sting, whether the heart of the criminal be harrowed by remorse, or be callous from indifference and insensibility.
His organ of Language was very indifferently developed, and was never much cultivated. Where in a large active brain, possessed of strong intellect, this faculty is small and unimproved by study, there will be under great excitement a rather powerful, yet an embarrassed, confused, and hurried expression-as if the powers of mind laboured for utterance, and which they at length attain without much regard to conventtional rules and the ordinary construction of language.
The working features, glowing with thought and feeling, will often indicate the peculiar passion long before the tongue can express it ; the brow will show it, the eye flash forth the meaning, and the whole countenance be radiant with struggling, yet intelligible emotion. The Protector was but a poor orator, so far as words are necessary to make one; and the specimens of his speeches which we have seen, are not over creditable to his powers. Yet he is known to have been wonderfully effective in addressing his soldiers, and in winning over men to his purposes, and must, therefore, have had eloquence of some kind. And so, indeed, he had. But it was the eloquence of strong primitive faculties, expressing themselves in the language of naturethe eloquence of a great mind, impressing with its superior weight and dignity all who came within its influence. This was the eloquence of Washington, Franklin, and many other illustrious men, ungifted with the powers of speech. The social organs in Cromwell were amply developed, in harmony with which he was a faithful friend and an affectionate husband and father. In those interesting relations, even his enemies have not assailed him. We have thus attempted to sketch in faint outline a few features of that extra. ordinary man. A well written essay on the subject should comprise both a phrenological portrait of the Protector, and a political review of the times, with their natural influence upon the primitive faculties. But for this we have neither time nor space. The student of phreno. logy may gather from the life of Cromwell the true moral of history. He will see that men are as often the victims of false institutions and an imperfect state of society, as of their own inherent vices; and that power and greatness, while they gratify Self-esteem and Approbative. ness, can only minister to the real happiness of their possessor when inspired by the nobler sentiments of Conscientiousness and Benevolence.
PLEA IN BEHALF OF PHRENOLOGY.
BY B. SILLIMAN, M. D., LL. D. In our September number, we stated that an able and extended plea in behalf of phrenology had just appeared in the American Journal of Science and Arts, from the pen of its editor, Professor Silliman. This article reflects great credit on the candour, liberality, and intelligence of its author, and differs very essentially in spirit and character from certain articles on the same subject, which appeared some years since in the Christian Spectator, Christian Examiner, and North American Review. We hope the day is past when this science is to be condemned by persons who are profoundly ignorant of its facts and principles, and who are governed in relation to it more by sheer prejudice and a spirit of dogmatism, than by regard either for truth or the dictates of justice. The remarks on this point in the following article, are worthy of all praise, and bespeak a true philosophical mind.
Most of our readers will recollect that Mr. Combe delivered his last course of lectures in this country at New Haven, Ct. At the close of that course of lectures, Gov. Edwards brought forward a series of resolutions, which were seconded and sustained by some remarks from Professor Silliman; and the article on phrenology referred to in the July number of the American Journal of Science, purports to be the substance of his remarks offered on this occasion, though they were undoubtedly considerably extended in preparing them for the press. We regret that circumstances have prevented us from giving this article an earlier notice, and that now our limits compel us to omit several pages. After some general and prefatory remarks, Professor Silliman proceeds as follows:
It appears to me, sir, that phrenology involves no absurdity, nor any antecedent improbability. The very word means the science or koowledge of the mind, which all admit to be a pursuit of the highest dignity and importance, both for this life and the life to come, and the appropriate inquiry of the phrenologist is, whether the mind, with its peculiar powers, affections, and propensities, is manifested by particular organs corresponding with the conformation of the cranium, that defensive armour by which the brain is protected from external injury.
We have, each for ourselves, no better means of judging, than by the effects which the evidence and the discussions produce on our own minds ; nor can we understand why some persons of great intelligence and worth treat phrenology as if it were, on its very front, ridiculous and absurd, and therefore to be dismissed with contempt and ridicule, as the dream of an enthusiast—or to be spurned as the invention of an impostor-while some disciplined minds regard the investigation as unphilosophical, and still greater numbers shrink from it with dread, as tending to impair moral responsibility, or to bind us in the fatal folds of materialism.
In what part of our frames is the mind manifested by any visible appearance ?
All will answer, in the features-in the human face divinethrough whose beautiful and impressive lineaments the mind shines forth as through windows, placed there on purpose by the Creator. In this all are agreed; we read there, in language which is often quite intelligible, the decisions of the will and the judgment, and the fluctuations of the affections. Even the inferior animals both mani. fest to us, and understand from us, this visible language, figured and shadowed forth by the form and movements of the muscles of the face, and especially by the effulgence of the eye.
But whence comes the intellectual and moral light that beams forth from the eye and from the features ?
Surely, not from the eye itself, although it is the most perfect and beautiful of optical instruments; not from the fibres of ihe facial muscles; not from the bony skeleton of the face; not from the aircells and blood-vessels of the lungs; still less, from the viscera and limbs; and with equal certainty, not from the cavities, the valves, and the strong muscular fabric of the heart itself, which is only the grand hydraulic organ for receiving and propelling the blood, in its double circulation both through the entire body to recruit its waste, and through the lungs to receive the beneficent influence of the oxygen of the air, without which, in its next circulation through the body, the altered blood would prove a poison.
Most persons are startled, when told that the physical heart has nothing to do with our mental or moral manifestations. What! does not its quick pulsation, its tumultuous and irregular throb, when fear, or love, or joy, or anger animates our faculties—does not this bounding movement, shooting a thrill through the bosom, nor the attendant blush, or death-like paleness of the features, prove that the heart is a mental or moral organ? Certainly not; these phenomena only evince that by means of our nerves, the divine principle within us electrifies, as it were, our muscles, and thus accelerates or retards the current of the blood through the arteries, as well as the move. ment of the muscles themselves, and especially of the heart, which, in relation to the circulation of the blood, is the most important of them all. The physical heart is no more to the mind and the affections, than the hose of a fire engine is to the intelligence that works the machine, whose successive strokes impel the hurrying fluid along, in a manner not unlike that which attends the circulation of the blood in the arteries.
Where, then, shall we look for the seat of the mind ? seriously assured that some persons have believed the stomach to be the favoured region. The stomach, with its various coats, its innu. merable nerves and blood-vessels, its muscular tissues, and its gastric