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so strange and unaccountable, that although I saw that it was my own brother, the very marrow in my bones seemed to have been turned into cold water. I ventured, however, to look into the second chamber, and there I beheld heaps upon heaps of diamonds and rubies, and pearls and emeralds, and every other description of precious stones, thrown one on the other in astonishing profüsion. The third chamber into which I looked contained, in similar heaps, an immense profusion of gold; and the fourth chamber was strewed middle deep with silver.
I had some difficulty in determining to which of these glittering deposits I should give the preference. At last I recollected that a single diamond was of greater value than all the gold I could gather into my robe, and I accordingly decided on tucking up my skirts and filling them with jewels. I put out my hand in order to take up some of these glittering articles, when from some invisible agent-perhaps it was the effect of some overpowering effluvia—I received a blow so stunning, that I found it impossible to stand in the place any long In my retreat it was necessary to pass the chamber in which I had seen my brother. The instant he perceived me about to pass, he drew his sword, and made a furious cut at me. I endeavoured to avoid the stroke by suddenly starting aside, but in vain; the blow took effect, and my right arm dropped from the shoulder-joint. Thus wounded and bleeding, I rushed
from this deposit of treasure and horror, and, at the entrance above, found the physician and his associates, who had so mysteriously determined the destiny of my unhappy brother. Some of them went below and brought away my mutilated arm; and having closed
the entrance with stone and mortar, conducted me, together with my arm, all bleeding as I was, to the presence of the Portuguese governor; men and women and children flocking to the doors to behold the extraordinary spectacle.
• The wound in my shoulder continued to bleed; but having received from the governor a compensation of three thousand tomauns, a horse with jewelled caparisons, a number of beautiful female slaves, and many males, with the promise of future favours in reserve, the Portuguese physician was ordered to send for me; and applying some styptic preparation to the wound, it quickly healed, and so perfectly, that it might be said I was thus armless from my birth. I was then dismissed, and having shortly afterwards obtained a passage in another ship, in about a month from my departure reached the port for which I was destined.'—p. 106-108.
In several passages of these Memoirs the imperial author boasts, in terms that to Europeans must appear ludicrously extravagant, of the riches which he possessed in gold and precious stones of every description. When the province of Berar, in the Deccan, was surrendered to his authority, he assures us that, as a symbol of submission, there were sent to him a train of elephants, four hundred in number, each elephant furnished with caparisons, chains, collars, and bells, all of gold, and each laden besides with gold to the value of nearly 9000l. of our money! No doubt,
however, can be entertained that the wealth of Jehangire was prodigious. He gives a glowing description of a magnificent mausoleum, which was erected by his orders at Secundera, in honour of his imperial father, Akbar. From the account given by the late lamented Heber of this gorgeous pile, it would appear, that the sum asserted by the author to have been expended upon it (about 1,800,0001.) is not exaggerated. The principal building consists of a tower of polished marble, erected on four lofty arches, terminating in a circular dome, and inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli, from roof to basement. The whole is surrounded by a splendid colonnade, and by gardens planted with cypresses and other trees, and decorated by numerous fountains. The mausoleum has been taken under British protection ; and is certainly one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture in India. In point of splendour, however, it can hardly be compared to the palace which Jehangire caused to be constructed for himself at Agra. He describes the principal saloon of this edifice as * supported by twenty-five pillars, all covered with plates of gold, and all over inlaid with rubies, turquoises, and pearl; the roof on the outside is formed into the shape of a dome, and is also covered with squares of solid gold; the ceiling of the dome within being decorated with the most elaborate figures, of the richest materials and most exquisite workmanship! When to these ornaments we add a moveable platform of gold, upon which from one thousand to five thousand of the chief officers of the court and nobility took their places on occasions of ceremony, and also a moveable partition of lattice-work, all of gold, both of which articles formed a part of the emperor's equipage wherever he went, we fear that we shall startle the reader's credulity—especially as the author calculates the weight of the precious metal, composing these two pieces of state furniture, at no less than forty-two tons.
These Memoirs terminate abruptly. The last eight years of the emperor's existence were full of vicissitudes, the history of which may be read in Dow. He was governed entirely by NoorMabil, who treated him like a child, and estranged from him his best friends. Shah Jehan, the ablest and most enterprising of his sons, waged open war against the authority of the empress, as she was styled ; and would probably have succeeded in deposing the emperor, now grown quite imbecile, from the throne, had not that step been rendered unnecessary by his death, which took place in November, 1627. Noor-Mahil was allowed a splendid residence at Lahore, and a pension of about 25,0001. per annum, which she enjoyed without interruption during the remainder of her life. She died in the year 1645.
Art. of his age.
Art. VI.-An Account of the Infancy, Religious and Literary
Life of Adam Clarke, LL.D., F.A.S., &c. Written by One who was intimately acquainted with him from his boyhood to the sixtieth year
Edited by the Reverend J. B. Clarke, M.A., Trin. Coll., Cambridge. London. 3 vols. Svo.
1832-3. IT T must needs have ever been matter of great solicitude to John
Wesley to know what was to become of Methodism when he should be no more. He could not but feel, that, whilst he lived, he was the “ be all’of the singular society he had constructed; and he could not but have perceived the danger there was, that, when he should die, he would be its · end all.' He enjoyed, it is true, a very long life, in which to consolidate his plans; he was not called upon to surrender his functions to others till most of those contingencies which were likely to derange his machinery had arisen and been met. Still the genius of the man—his capacity for government-did not appear fully manifest till after his departure. So deep had he laid his foundations in the knowledge of human nature, that after death had deprived the Methodists of their leader—when their form of government became of necessity, and according to his own appointment, changed from a monarchy, which it was under him, to a republic, which it was to be under the Conference the character of their institution remained essentially the same; they continued a people still loyal to their king and true to the constitution of their country, even as Wesley had enjoined them to be: and whilst the Dissenters, properly so called (for the Methodists do not acknowledge themselves such), exhibited deep and deadly hatred to the Church Establishment, they, with every natural impulse, it might have been supposed, to the same sentiments, felt themselves still, as it were, under the spell of their patriarch, though no longer in the flesh with them, and did not decline to attend the services of the Church, partake of her sacraments, and even adopt her forms of devotion. This is the greatest triumph of Wesley. He himself was held to the Church by associations early and strong—he had for his father a faithful minister of that Church ; another, for his elder brother, to whom he was under deep obligations, a man of the most masculine sense and the kindest heart. He was bred at Oxford, had been a successful student there, and was fellow of his college. Wesley, therefore, had lived within the penetralia of the temple, and well understood by practical experience the knowledge the Church diffused from her seats of learning, and the charities she inspired by her parochial ministrations. These restraints he never shook off in the days of his boldest visions as the founder of an order; but that he
should have been able to impress it upon his followers, who bad no such early bias, to take the same equivocal ground as himself, and that, whilst with him they were to disturb the harmony and discipline of the Church—there is no denying that—they were with him, too, to bear her some reverence, and regard her with some good-will: this is a most remarkable feature of his power, who, though dead, could yet speak so distinctly; and who, if he were now alive, in this season of the Church's danger, would not be the man to stand silently by, consenting to her destruction at the hands of those unnatural confederates, the Infidel, the Dissenter, and the Papist.
We have here the life of one of the most influential of Wesley's immediate followers, in three volumes; the first written by Dr. Clarke himself- the two latter by his youngest daughter, hier father supplying her with materials, who moreover perused the whole manuscript up to the year 1930, and attached his signature to each sheet, in testimony of its truth : the whole edited by the Rev. J. B. Clarke, the doctor's youngest son.
Adam Clarke was born at Moybeg, an obscure hamlet in Londonderry, about the year 1760. His father was a village schoolmaster of a superior order, and Adam, if we understand the narrative right, was one of his scholars; a lad of hardy habits, and as yet unapt to learn. It was intended that he should be brought up by his grandfather, but not liking the restraint of his grandmother's apron-strings, and having a great passion for looking into a draw-well on the premises-whether in early quest of truth, is not said he incurred the old lady's displeasure by keeping her in a state of alarm for his life, and was accordingly sent home. We do not perceive that Dr. Clarke notices this as one amongst the many instances he discovers of a special Providence that was over him-it was probably, however, not the least signal. Whatever was his want of capacity to acquire knowledge, his feelings were quick and tender; and one day, as he and a little school-fellow were seated on a bank together, the children fell into serious conversation on futurity,– 0 Addy, Addy,' said his companion, what a dreadful thing is eternity; and O, how dreadful to be put into hell-fire, and to be burnt for ever!' and thereupon they wept bitterly, begged God to forgive them their sins, which were chiefly those of disobedience to their parents, and made to each other strong promises of amendment. His mother, who came to the knowledge of this incident, pondered it in her heart with a mother's satisfaction ; his father, who seems to have been an austere, ill-judging man, had no opinion of pious resolutions in children ; and Adam was old enough to find discouragement in this indifference, and to feel that smoking flax had been quenched.
His companion on this occasion was one James Brooks, the tenth child of his parents. When this boy's mother went to pay her tithe to Dr. Barnard, the rector of Maghera, afterwards Bishop of Limerick, and well known as the friend of Johnson, and a member of The Club, the poor woman said, “Sir, you have the tenth of all I possess except my children: it is but justice you should have the tenth of them too; here is my tenth son, take him and provide for him.' Dr. Barnard took the child at her word, clothed him, and sent him to school, where he ever went by the name of Tithe. Traits of this kind, where they relate to men of any distinction, are valuable as keys to character.
The nearest neighbour Adam Clarke's father had was one Pierce Quenlin, a very fat man. Adam beheld him with disgust, as a loathsome object; a feeling which was rendered yet more intense by a dumb fortune-teller, called, in the Scottish dialect of Ulster, a spae-man,
gave Adam to understand that it would be one day his own lot to be fond of the bottle and to have a big belly. He thought that the spae-man might be right, nevertheless that God could overrule evils even great as these ; and accordingly, he stole into the field, kneeled himself down in a furze-bush, and prayed heartily, saying, ' O Lord God, have mercy upon me, and never suffer me to be like Pierce Quenlin!' He adds, that he continued throughout life to entertain a wholesome dread of drunkenness and fat. Upon such trifles in our tender years do some of the most invaluable safeguards of our future virtue depend. He still remained a dunce; was reproached by his teacher, and scoffed at by his school-fellows; till at last a taunt of the latter kind stung him in the right place-he felt as if something had broke within him ;' and from that day forward he made rapid advances in whatsoever he put his head unto'—arithmetic only excepted,
The circumstances of the family were strait, so much so, indeed, that his father and mother, with their first-born child, (Adam was their second,) had actually embarked for America, and were only prevailed upon to abandon their enterprise by the most earnest entreaties of their friends. Mr. Clarke, therefore, found it convenient to combine his school with a small farm; this he cultivated after the plan of Virgil's Georgics, a work of which he was a great admirer: though whether the system of agriculture which suited the Campagna di Roma would consort so well with the village of Maghera or Moybeg, ' in the township of Cootinaglugg, in the parish of Kilchronagan, in the barony of Loughinshallin, in the county of Londonderry,' might admit of a reasonable doubt. However, his crops, says his son, were 'as good as his neighbours'' Meanwhile, Adam and his brother were em