1822.) 
all the admiration which the writer by 
no means sparingly expresses, both of 
the author and his very original and 
curious work. Mr. Amory stood forth 
as the champion of Unitarianism, at a 
time when its professors were few and 
inconsiderable ; but his prolific fancy 
created a host of fair proselytes in this 
work, and its companion, the Life of 
John Bunele, upon whom he lavished 
all gifts and accomplishments, endow- 
ing them plentifully with his own 
principles, and enabling them “to 
give reasons for the faith which was in 
them.” The main distinction between 
these volumes and John Buncele is, that 
the latter fortunate hero successively 
marries the beautiful disputants with 
whom he so miraculously meets. He 
was an Abelard with twenty Heloisas. 
Replete with able and ingenious argu- 
ment, with true piety and warm bene- 
volence, and enriched with vivid de- 
scriptions and agreeable fictions, these 
two works may be truly recorded, in 
the words of the reviewer, who has in 
every respect done justice to his sub- 
ject, as “two of the most extraordi- 
nary productions of British intellect.” 
The Plays of Joun Marston, to 
which the seventh article is devoted, 
met with temporary success on the 
Stage, to sink into speedy and lasting 
neglect. We think the reviewer is 
inclined, with all the reservations he 
makes, to estimate them too highly. 
His plots are improbable, his charac- 
ters overstrained, and his sentiments 
hyperbolical. To nature and true 
passion he could never attain. These 
must, “unsought, be won;” and all 
Marston’s efforts, though he showed a 
vigorous intellect in the attempt, were 
unsuccessful. 
Of all the fanciful and positive theo- 
rists who have discussed the origin of 
the world, Dr. Burner stands at the 
head. His Sacred Theory of the Earth; 
containing an account of the original of 
the earth, and of all the general changes 
which it hath already undergone, or is to 
undergo, till the consummation of all 
things,—is one of the boldest under- 
takings ever conceived; and the doc- 
tor has stretched his imagination “to 
the crack of doom” to perform it. 
Bat the cosmogony or creation of the 
world has puzzled philosophers of all 
ages. What a medley of opinions 
have they not broached upon the ¢rea- 
tion of the world! Sanconiathon, Ma- 
netho, Berosus, and Ocellas Lucanus, 
Montuy Mac. No. 373. 
The Retrospective Review, No. 11. 
225 
have all attempted it iv vain. The 
latter has these words, Anarchon ara 
hai atelutaion to pan, which imply that 
all things have neither beginning nor 
end. Manetho also, who lived about 
the time of Nebuchadon-Asser, Asser 
being a Syriac word usually applied 
as a sirname to the kings of that coun- 
try, as Teglat Phael-Asser, Nabon- 
Asser,—he, I say, formed a conjecture 
equally absurd. But, with the erudite 
Mr. Ephraim Jenkinson, the want of 
whose full opinion on this point is an 
irreparable loss to science—we must 
beg pardon; we are straying from the 
question. We gather from another 
authority, of more modern date than 
Sanconiathon, that the world was 
created on the 6th of September, on 
a Friday, a little after four o’clock in 
the afternoon. When a system is to 
be built, the more precise it is ren- 
dered the better; and Burnet was 
quite right in laying the foundations 
of the earth, and afterwards striking 
them from under it, with all the 
“pomp, pride, and circumstance, of 
glorious” ruin that he could conceive. 
Nor did he once stoop to qualify his 
narrations with the words which so 
often add an air of candour to Daniel 
Defoe’s tales,—“ if the story be true.” 
We may stand excused for not treat- 
ing this well-known Theory with seri- 
ousness, as it is purely ‘a gay crea- 
ture of the element” of fancy, and 
wholly destitute of any scientific sup- 
port; but, as a natural romance, full 
of sublime imagery and eloquent rea- 
soning, we hold it in the highest 
respect, and acquiesce in all the ob- 
servations of the reviewer. 
The number concludes with an ad- 
dition to the series of excellent papers 
on the works of Lord Bacon, in which 
we are presented, from his Letters, 
with copious extracts, illustrative of 
his fortunes and feelings, from the 
restless ambition of his youth to the 
despair and degradation of his old age. 
It is, indeed, “a sight for pity to pe- 
ruse,” to see so lofty an intellect lie 
groveling at the feet of power. But 
we would fain hope, for the honour of 
human nature, that there is much truth 
in Bacon’s insinuation, that “ these 
things were vitia temporis, and not 
vitia hominis ;” and that his sycophancy 
and venality, like the grosser freedoms 
of Shakspeare, must not be weighed 
without some allowance against the 
nicer mgnners and more liberal opi- 
Gg nions 
