not one of those who may be engaged upon this new Review, that would, if called upon to criticise the performance of one of his brethren, or one of his friends, exercise his judgment in a fair, unbiassed, impartial manner.

would prevent the exercise of legitimate opinion in the undersigned reviewers: the anticipation of a future acquaintance with those whose productions they judge. I cannot easily conceive a predicament more awkward or more absurd than that of a known reviewer being introduced to the object of his attack. Such consi

will go further than X. by saying, that even if the optimates of modern literature, even if a Roscoe, a Parr, a Gillies, or a Stewart, did condescend to become hired reviewers, with this only distinction, of affixing their names, yet the cause of sound cri- There is also another reason that ticism would be no farther advanced. On the contrary, it would be retarded, for the very reasons stated by your correspondent. If we allow human passions to operate with equal or nearly equal influence, why, it may be asked, would not Mr. Roscoe, or Dr. Parr, be as open to the bias of friendship, or as sensible to the attack of friendship, as other men? derations will deter every man of and though they might imitate other sense, of feeling, and of liberality, critical professors in their merciless from being engaged in a task so unseverity towards the humble, the ob- grateful; and if therefore we are to scure, and the unassuming delinquent, receive the precepts of science, of we should find them abundantly po- knowledge, of judgment, and of taste lite, and ceremonious, and affable to from obscure men, without sense, each other. The esprit du corps, as without feeling, and without liberathe French term it, would operate lity, I cannot envy those who may here in full force, though within a narrower circle than usual.

be content to listen to them. It is
not impossible, indeed, they may
find readers co-ordinate to themselves
in mental qualifications; let them re-
joice if they do it is lawful for igno-
rance to triumph when wisdom is
silent.
I remain, &c.

Jan. 7, 1809.

X. jun.

OBSERVATIONS upon the NATURAL
HISTORY of the HORSE in SOUTH
AMERICA. By SONNINI.
For the Universal Magazine.

HOSE troops of wild horses

Let us suppose that fifty years ago, such a ridiculous idea had been started by the trade, and that Johnson, Goldsmith, Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c. had been engaged upon it. I ask, would it have been possible that those great men could have sat in impartial judgment upon each other's productions, and yet have lived, as they did live,' within the circle of the strictest friendship? Had they praised, would not their praise have been suspected by the world of adulation? Had they censured, would they not have been accused of which inhabit some parts of the rancour, of malignity, or of envy? Placed between Scylla and Charyb- old world, are well known. They dis, they could not avoid self con- are conducted by, rather than subdemnation on the one hand, or the mitted to, a leader, whose superinworld's censure on the other. And tendence, rather than authority, ceases would such men have found an ade- to be acknowledged as soon as he quate reward for such trial in the pe- ceases to be the most fierce and vicuniary compensations of a booksel- gorous amongst them. It is in the ler? The answer is obvious. They midst of these free and roving bands, would have spurned at the illusion in the deserts of Africa, and in the which would mislead them under the northern regions of Asia, that we guise of candour and honesty, and must look for the type and original they would have left to venal minds of all the different races of horses, what only venal minds can perform. which education, the shackles of do1 speak thus strongly, because I know mesticity, and the other effects the great difference there is between of man's jurisdiction, have prothe profession of integrity and the duced. There alone will be found practice; and I am confident there is the horse of nature, while we have,

around us, only the horse of art. But, if this last were abandoned by man, it would soon return to its original qualities: those habits which it had acquired in servitude, would be effaced with the chains of that servitude, and he would resume his liberty with more facility, and in infinitely less time than was necessary to fashion him to slavery.

repass among them, caress them, and call them by various sounds and motions, and by neighings expressive of affection. The domestic horses are soon seduced away; they unite them selves to the wandering troops, and follow them into their retreats of independence. Travellers are often stopped on their journey, by the desertion of their horses, who are thus Let us consider those numerous enticed away by the wild ones, whom troops, which, in less than two cen- they endeavour to frighten and keep turies, have formed themselves in the at a distance by every possible means, new world, and which caused animals On these occasions, the wild horses to seek again the bosom of nature use a degree of sagacity and put evothat had been subjected to an imme- lutions in practice which bespeak conmorial servitude. If we traverse siderable intelligence. A few of them South America, we shall behold im- separate from the main body and admense plains, fruitful lands, savannahs vance in front, while the rest of covered with verdant spots, watered them. march in a close compact coby copious rivers, and shaded with lumn which nothing can break. If umbrageous forests. These eternal they are so alarmed as to be induced pastures of liberty presented to the horse, restored to a state of freedom, the most delightful shelter from a too ardent sun, and inexhaustible resources of food at choice: there they roved, propagated rapidly, and soon formed numerous bodies, which present a race, totally different from that whence they drew their origin. In nearly the centre of this part of South America there exists a prodigious quantity of these wild horses, which The colonists, however, do not con are descended from the Andalusian breed, transported thither by the Spaniards at the epoch of their first conquests. They live in separate troops, but are so multiplied, that when they happen to meet, they form sometimes bodies of ten thousand. These numerous troops are diffused principally to the south of the river Plata, as far as Rio Negro, to the land of the Patagonians, &c.*

Fierce, and contented with perfect freedom, these horses, become wild, seemed animated with the desire of participating their freedom with those of their species who yet remain under the dominion of man; and they are therefore dreaded by the colonists. As soon as they perceive in the fields any domestic horses, they set off, at a full gallop, towards them, pass and

* See Observations of Don Felix Azara on the Natural History of Paraguay, inserted in the Decade PhiloSophique, 1799. No. 9. p. 513,

to retreat, the column changes its direction, but without disorder and without division. Sometimes they make several circuits round those who endeavour to frighten them: sometimes they abandon their enterprise; and, as they require day-light to reconnoitre their enemy and to direct their manœuvres so as to attract new companions, they never make these attempts during the night.

The

tent themselves with keeping these
dangerous seducers at a distance:
they also carry on an active warfare
against them. In great battles they
endeavour to surround them, or to
drive them close against a ditch,where
they kill them with spears.
Pampas eat their flesh, and they give
the preference to that of the mares
and colts. The Spaniards never eat
of them; but sometimes they kill a
very fat mare to make a fire with her
fat and bones, in the country of
Pampas where fuel is very scarce.

M. Azara, who relates these facts, observes further, that the prevailing colours of the wild horse, in the most southern countries of America, are a brown bay, the zain* (or dark colour), the black, and the jet black (jais). If there happens to be among them an individual that is grey, or any other colour, it may safely be con

They call a horse zain which has до white hairs,

cluded that it has escaped from a state of domesticity. There are, according to Azara, ninety brown bays to ten zains, and the black colour is so rare, that you do not sometimes find one in two thousand. From these observations he concludes, that those three colours, the brown bay, the zain, and the jet black, are the primitive hues which designate, at least in part, horses that have recovered their liberty; that the first horse and the first mare that ever existed were of one of these three colours, and, most probably, of the brown bay; since, among wild horses, it appears that the black colour decreases, and that the dark colour, or zain, will also: that, assuming the colour as a criterion, it may be said that the best breed of horses is that of the brown bay; next to that, the zains; and lastly the black: all other colours have less excellence of qualities, because they are the result of greater degradations from the primitive horse, which would of course be the most perfect. Experience, the author thinks, does not contradict these conjectures; for, according to him, the brown bay horses are the most esteemed, if we except the phantasies of individuals, and the zains hold the second place, though in France there exists a prejudice against this last colour, which M. Azara considers as being without foundation, and as being especially opposite to the opinion of the Spaniards.*

In these same countries, however, those horses which are called domestic live in a state of comparative liberty. They are left, during a part of the year, to roam at will over spacious pastures; and to this custom, of permitting them to be in the open air, to yield to every feeling of nature in their motions and in their coursing, and to feed, at their pleasure, upon whatever they like best, we must attribute the prodigious multiplication and the incomparable agility and vigour of those horses which the Europeans have transported to several

There exists, in fact, in several countries of Europe, great prejudices against dark-coloured horses, or zains. They were formerly thought to be either vicious, or to bode misfortune.

:

parts of South America, more than to the nature of the climate, which however is highly favourable, as Dr. Robertson has already remarked in his History of America. They may be seen laden with burdens far beyond the strength of the most renowned horses of the old world:the most steep mountains, the most rugged rocks, do not stop them: they will descend, at full speed, such de clivities as a man could not walk down without trembling: they will leap from precipice to precipice in a manner that is truly astonishing and very frightful. The horseman has only to keep himself firm in his saddle while descending heights almost perpendicular, and with such velocity.

In Peru, they call these horses parameros, because the mountains are called paramos. While yet young they are trained to run over the most difficult and elevated places: their only paces are the trot and the amble, both of which they perform in a very active way. There are, in the same country, other horses, which are called aiguilillas, which are not less vigorous, less agile, nor less courageous. They only walk, but with such celerity, that it equals the trot of the others; some of them indeed go with such rapidity that no horse can outstrip them, nor even overtake them, let them use what pace they will. Don Ulloa, who saw these horse's in the province of Quito, relates that he had one of them, which, without being the very quickest of the species, walked him, over a stony bad road, in twenty-eight or twenty-nine minutes, from Callao to Lima, a distance of two leagues and a half, geometrically measured; and, in the same space of time, he brought him back to Lima without being once unbridled. From the description, however, which Don Ulloa gives of this precipitate pace, it is evident that he does not mean the common walk, but the amble, which is considered in Europe as a pace less noble and less natural than the walk, the trot, and the gallop, and even as

See Historical Voyage to South America, made by order of the King of Spain, by Don George Juan and Don Antonio de Ulloa, vol. i. p. 370.

dangerous to the horseman. The their sports, and examine the nature Peruvians obtain from Chili the won- of their pleasures. What gives aniderful parameros and the best aigui- mation to the one, what gives variety lillas; and the choice individuals of to the other, but the presence of these two races are nothing inferior mind? Not, indeed, in the same in elegance of form to the most beau- degree as is to be found in the matiful of the Andalusian breed: they tured intellect; but in that degree are also of a fine size; they breathe which is sufficient to direct, to excite, fire and spirit, and their speed is un- and to cherish, the feelings, the hopes, equalled. the amusements, and the desires of childhood. The pleasure which accompanies youth in the pursuit of its sports, is not, cannot be, merely the

[To be concluded in our next ]

ANTI-SOPHOS in REPLY to SOPHOS. pleasure of the senses abstracted from

Sir,

THE query of your correspondent Sophos seems to have excited some discussion among your numerous readers; and, indeed, the question is of that nature which would be likely to stimulate the energies of every thinking mind.

all consideration of the mind. What impels him to the ring? not merely the hope of winning the marble, but the mingled desire of evincing his superior skill and obtaining its reward: or the wish to conquer some sullen competitor, or to hold the rank of first player. All, or any of these motives are enough to shew the exWhen I first perused the query in istence of mind in its simplest operayour Magazine for August last (p.101) tions; and no one will deny their I was a little startled; but I wished existence, that has any recollection of not to prejudge, and Sophos had his own childhood, or any sagacity to pledged himself to unfold his opinions trace action to its source. It will be if no abler hand anticipated him. In found the same in examining all the the ensuing number there were two pleasures of childhood. What invites replies; one by a Mr. Fletcher, the him to start at the race, and strain and other signed P. M. W.; and, in October, Sophos himself appeared in battle array against his opponents. How he has wielded the weapons of controversy, I wish not to decide; but with your permission, Mr. Editor, I will offer a few remarks to his consideration, upon those parts of his letter wherein I differ from him.

He commences by degrading the pleasures of childhood, and reducing them to a level with the gross delights of mere animal sensation. But his assumptions here are gratuitous, and I do not think that experience will warrant them. It is to be remembered that there are gradations of intellectual pleasure; and, indeed, it seems to me an unphilosophical and an immoral supposition to believe, that a being, endowed with the capacities for intellection, and having its organisation complete, should be found in a state in which those capacities lie inert. The fallacy and absurdity of this may be argued a priori; but it is also possible to shew, by deductive reasoning, that the opinion is arroneous. Contemplate children in

pant to reach the appointed goal? Not the mere delight of running, for it is often painful from its celerity and exertion; but the hope of outstripping his antagonist, and the eager anticipation of the shouts that await the conqueror. It will surely be allowed that the feelings of resentment, of hope, of fear; the arrangements of foresight and the cautious barriers of experience, are to be found in the conduct of children: and if so, to what source shall we refer their origin, if we deny them that of mind?

To unfold itself gradually is the property of reason; and it is no invalidation of my argument, therefore, to say, that it exists in an inferior degree in the minds of children: for the same objection would equally hold in more advanced years, and there is not a greater difference between the mind of an uninstructed child of six years old and an adult of ordinary faculties, than there is between that adult and a man of genius.

The effects of religion upon the mind of man, as exhibited by Sophos, do more credit to his pen than to his

head. If the mild tenor of the Chris- world can give, but looks forward to bliss unutterable in a future.

This declamation of Sophos against religion, seems not to have much connexion with the tenor of his argument; but to have been interpolated, if I may so speak, for the purpose of indulging in the expression of opinions which do him little honour.

tain faith really appear to him in so solemn and repulsive a guise, I fear his mental vision requires to be purged of its gross humours by the detergents of study and extended knowledge.From what honest, from what lawful, from what dignified enjoyments of life does religion call us away? The exercise of what virtue does it im- "Virtue," says Sophos, rarely pede? The discharge of what duty brings with it any present, any posidoes it restrict? It may bid us re- tive delight." I deny this, even with nounce all low, all vulgar, all bestial the limitations which Sophos himself indulgences: it may exhort us to sub- bas imposed. I will suppose a man due the intemperance of passion, to totally ignorant or totally careless of overcome the evil propensities of our a future state: yet even to such a nature, and to train the heart in the man virtue will not be without deways of virtue: it may promise the light; and of course that delight, if blissful regions of beatitude to the any, must be present, and if present, faithful: it may thunder in the ears must be positive. Where is the man, of the sinner the punishment of guilt. having human feelings, that is not But in this, what does it do more than delighted with the expression of huthe laws of man-of weak, erring, man love and gratitude? If I assist and resentful man? Is it compatible the needy, comfort the afflicted, counwith the eternal order and harmony sel the timorous, defend the weak, which reign throughout the universe, and direct the erring, do I find no that human nature alone should be a delight, no pleasure, no sweetlylawless planet, running at will through thrilling sensation, as I read in their the fabric of creation? Is it incon- countenances, as I hear in their words, sistent with the mercy of a righteous the looks, the language, of gratitude, deity, that he should reward those peace, and contentment? Is it not who have deserved; that he should soothing to my thoughts to reflect punish those who have erred? The that I have made those happy, who book of knowledge is laid open to us; mourned; that I have bestowed comthe laws by which we are to be tried fort upon those that were despairing? are promulgated; the issue of trial is In the world, there is not a rapture announced;-what would we more? more intense than the sight of human Shall man, whose soul, touched with felicity: he must have the heart of a the ethereal spark of reason, kindles dæmon who can look, unmoved upon into a consciousness of futurity, shall the scene of man's happiness; but he repine because the door of vile and what must be his rapture, when he obscene delights is closed against him? not only beholds that felicity, but Shall he murmur, because he is for- hears a gentle voice whisper to his bidden to descend below the very soul This is the work of thy herds of the field in the pursuit of hands?" By heavens, I would not debasing pleasures? Shall he re- exchange such a bliss for any other monstrate, because he is called upon that life could offer me: and this to earn a glorious state of bliss, in bliss may be enjoyed without any regions of immortality, in worlds of reference to futurity: it is present everlasting joy? Shame upon the and positive. The assertion of Sophos, heart that does not glow with grati- therefore, that without the general tude as it contemplates the oppor- apprehension of a future state, no tunities for endless felicity which are man would, in this world, be virheld out to man! And let the sordid tuous, according to our present notions being, who pants for delights at which of virtue, is false; or, I should be glad the gorge of virtue rises, wallow in to see by what dexterity he can supthe filthiness of his own desires, port it. while the chastened, the temperate, His two pictures of the "individual the good man, enjoys what this free from the belief of futurity," and