In youth, when the organs are not yet developed, and old age, when they are, in a great degree, obliterated, craniology cannot be safely applied. Nor are antagonist faculties and organs to be neglected: sinuses also, and the recession of the hemispheres from the median line, may occasionally occur. Still, while the passions make use of particular muscles, and while it is the property of a muscle, to increase in size when it is much used, our own opinion is, that there will be a natural and real foundation for physiognomy in the features. While the brain is the organ of faculties, propensities, instincts, and aptitudes, and while the scull is moulded on, and takes its external form from the brain within, the external marks must be indications of similar forms in the organ within-of differences, which cannot exist, without pointing to a correspondent difference in the functions, which those parts are destined to perform. The science of discovering mental character from external indications, being yet in its very infancy, mistakes may and must arise; but no anatomist or physiologist will deny that it has its foundation, and that a real one, in the organization of the animal,Such are the opinions we entertain on the general question.— We are persuaded that physiognomy and craniology, have their foundation in nature. We consider it as ascertained that the intellectual faculties, and what we call talents, depend greatly on the anterior part of the brain, from the coronal suture to the os frontis, and the general expanding of the forehead. We think that some of Gall's locations are firmly established; about many of them we doubt, for want of opportunities of examination, and from the newness of the investigation to ourselves. But whatever doubts and suspicions of illusion, may hang over the craniological part of these volumes, no man has a right to say, that Dr. Gall is mistaken in his assertions, till the objector himself, has applied some few years of careful observation, to verify or falsify the facts asserted.* That Dr. Gall is a man of the first order of intellect-that he is (beyond doubt) in his own department, the very best anatomist and physiologist of the day-that he has bestowed a large part of his life, and unremitting attention to the study he recommends-and that he has accumulated a vast mass of illustrative fact, and has shewn himself an acute as well as a profound reasoner, is too plain, from this work, to be denied. The assertions of such a man will not be passed over with contempt by the wise, even though his observations should, in many instances, savour too much of theory, and seem to want the necessary confirmation. * See Adelon's account of Gall's System Physiol. v. i. p. 589, et seq. The last volume consists of replies to anatomical objectors: but as we have dwelt long enough on that part of his system, we shall content ourselves by observing, that he appears to us, in most, if not in every instance, to come triumphantly out of the contest, with his anatomical gainsayers. We would gladly have given an account of the facial angle of Camper, and the means of measuring the proportional size of the brain by Daubenton and Cuvier; which methods, particularly the first, in our opinion, Gall treats too lightly. Let any man look at the plate borrowed from Camper, prefixed to White's "Essay on the Gradations of Man," and he will be satisfied, that the method, though very incomplete, is not devoid of truth, so far as it applies. But this review has extended so much under our hands, that we cannot trespass yet again, by extending it further. ART. VI.-The Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French; with a preliminary view of the French Revolution. By the Author of Waverly. London, 1827. Philadelphia. Reprinted, 1827. THE French Revolution, the great wonder of our age, has passed away. Its long and stormy day has closed. Its airy hopes, its visionary schemes, its magnificent promises, its gay delusions have disappeared. Like the terrible hurricane of the tropics, it overturned and scattered abroad all that it approached; agitated every land and sea that it could reach, and although at rest now, the waves that it disturbed, still shew symptoms of its violence, and fragments of many a wreck yet float upon their surface. Its course was marked by prodigies. Prudence and experience, wisdom and valour, actual power and ancient opinion sunk before it; changes and revolutions were its concomitants; nations and governments were convulsed by its influence, and, in the language of inspiration, deep fear fell upon all people. Events so wonderful, calamities so dire; peace, in which there was no tranquillity, wars to which there seemed no termi upon nation; contests unequalled in their magnitude, fierce in their conflicts, unparalleled in their results, have forced themselves the attention of the civilized world. The present age feels the deep impression of their power; and distant generations will look back with many and mingled emotions, on this, our day of astonishment. It is not then surprising, that in a literary age, writers, almost without number, should have turned to this period, as labourers to a mine, inexhaustible in its richness:-warriors who had mingled in the contest, have become the narrators of their own exploits; victims who survived their persecutions, have related their own sufferings; politicians escaping from the struggles of party, have partially unfolded their own schemes, and the intrigues of their allies or opponents; egotists, whom chance had placed in the midst of contention, put forth their autobiographies, frequently to shew, how little they had seen and how little they understood; while some, who had been only spectators, or who had withdrawn themselves from this tragic scene, endeavoured to review the incidents of this great drama, with the calm and profound spirit of wisdom, and to unfold, with the voice of truth and of philosophy, the remote causes, the active principles; the probable consequences of this unexampled convulsion. Among those who have advanced to this perilous enterprise, who have girded their loins for this hazardous exertion, the public have seen, with no common solicitude, the long disguised AUTHOR of WAVERLY. The "mighty magician," who, in latter days, has reigned uncontrolled and unrivalled over the regions of fiction, has thrown aside the enchanter's robe and wand, and appeared in the attire of real life; he, who has been so long accustomed to mould persons, and actions, and characters at will, has now undertaken to exhibit them in the stern aspect, and according to the unbending realities of truth. In this effort, there was to him great facility, to him and to all at the present day, some obvious as well as latent danger. The brilliant, the animated, the picturesque details of enter-" prise and adventure, the admirable delineations of character, the glowing style, the dramatic texture which distinguish so eminently the fictitious narratives of Sir Walter Scott, all manifested his high qualifications for his new labour. The athleta entered on the arena prepared and disciplined. His multiplied successes, in many different departments of literature, gave the promise of a splendid triumph in a new career; and the literary world has been awaiting to receive, and prepared to admire the proud monument, which history, by his hands, should rear, to the character, the fortunes, the mighty, even if sometimes misdirected, talents of him, who has been termed the child, the heir, and who proved the destroyer of the French revolution. To Sir Walter there was some danger, lest the habit and the desire of giving dramatic form and effect to every incident, might insensibly colour his narrative, and give to each transaction, an unnatural, if not distorted aspect. But against this evil, the magnitude of the events themselves, the almost unexampled vicissitudes of the actors, seemed sufficiently to guard. There was no occasion to embellish that which is magnificent and wonderful beyond all recent example; no temptation to exaggerate occurrences, which seem, in themselves, already to surpass the bounds of human probability. There are, however, other dangers that encompass the path of the historian, and call for unceasing vigilance. Snares which, perhaps, no caution can altogether avoid. Although the Revolution, with its tempestuous scenes, has passed away, in its progress it broke up the foundations of civil society. Every thing which habit and opinion rendered venerable, had been treated with scorn and contumely; every thing sacred had been degraded and profaned; every thing considered stable had been subverted or defaced; every prejudice of the individual or of society, had been offended; every feeling of human nature had been insulted; every principle of human action had, in turns, been violated; but with all of these contending and perturbed elements, in the midst even of brutal violence and disorder, there had been intermingled the purest patriotism, the most elevated magnanimity, the most perfect self-devotion, the most heroic courage. Still, vestiges of these discordant principles remain, and who shall consider himself exempt from their influence? Who shall walk over these concealed, but still living fires, and not feel their power? He who now writes the history of this great era, must write of the living, or of those whose graves are scarcely closed, and whose connexions or friends, or descendants still survive to feel each injury, perhaps, to vindicate each wrong. He who now writes, must speak, perhaps, of his own political associates, his own intimate and endeared companions. Who can sustain through such circumstances, the calm and intrepid spirit, that will do justice equally to the victor and the vanquished, to the living and the dead; that will give to suffering and unfortunate merit its due reward, will hurl on triumphant guilt, an indignant and merited reproach? Who can raise, even now, the veil which enshrouds the pretended patriot, the dissembled royalist, the VOL. L-NO. 1. 21 unprincipled statesman, the ambitious soldier; who will pour the unmitigated light of truth over the multitude of his contemporaries, even should they shrink and tremble at its radiance? It is not only to the prominent, the elevated actors on the scene, that these observations apply, but to the thousands whom circumstances brought forward on the stage, and whom history must mention. A century, perhaps, must rest on the feelings which this Revolution has excited and exacerbated, before any tribunal can decide impartially on the doubtful and disputable occurrences of the last forty years. It is not alone with regard to the character and conduct of individuals, that these difficulties exist. They extend to deeper and more important inquiries. Neither is it easy yet, to estimate the real influence of the Revolution, either on France itself, or on each surrounding nation. The struggle has indeed ceased, its violence has been subdued, but its effects may still be traced; its changes, its reformations, still survive to bear testimony to its active energy, and many of its principles remain deeply impressed on the human mind, and on the form and texture of society. The final results of this Revolution are still to be developed, and time only can disclose its benign or deleterious operation. The historian who undertakes to review these events, must bring to his task great sagacity, to trace effects from their remote and obscure causes, to pursue them to their ultimate consequences; and great candour and impartiality, so as to assign neither more good nor more evil to each incident, than is justly its due; neither more praise nor more reproach to each agent, than his actions merit. There yet exist other difficulties, but they are subordinate, and might be urged with equal weight, against all contemporary history-we allude to the want of information, even where materials appear to be most abundant, and to the impenetrable veil which still hangs over many of the most important transactions of this eventful period. The prominent incidents are, it is true, known, and have been detailed and canvassed, until they have become familiar. But the secret causes of many of these incidents, the dark intrigues, the hidden councils which influenced or governed the most important measures, are, doubtless, still concealed-and many a tale must yet be told; actors and acccomplices and witnesses must all depart; and many cabinets, both public and private, must be exposed to unrestricted examination, before the secret, perhaps, the real history of the French Revolution, can be thoroughly explained. Under these disadvantages and difficulties, our author has advanced to this enterprise, and we feel grateful for, and to |