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and flopping in the neighbourhood of Baremoor wood, about two miles diftant from the Scottish army, spent the night there. little hill on the east of Ford covered the English army from the obfervation of their enemies; while, from this eminence, the lord admiral obtained a distinct view of all the Scottish army and of the hills and fields in their neighbourhood. Upon the admiral and his party, while reconnoitring, or fome part of the English army that feemed nearest to them, the Scots fired fome of their cannon, without any effect. Next morning the English army, continuing their march in a north-westerly direction, almoft to the confluence of the Till and Tweed, did again crofs the first named of thefe rivers; the van guard and artillery over the bridge of Twifel, and the rear-guard by a ford nigh a mill, about a mile above that bridge; and then the whole army bent their march towards the hill of Flodden. By these motions the English general, puting himself between the Scots and their own country, did at once make it neceflary for them to fight; and had, on this fide of the hill, an accefs much lefs difficult and dangerous than on the other.
The Scots had thought themfelves fecured against the approach of their enemies from the oppofite fide of the Till, by the depth and bad fords of that river, through a long tract of its courfe on each hand of them, and by a battery of cannon they had erected, near the foot of the eastern declivity of Flodden hill, bearing full on the bridge of Ford. They feem not to have thought of the compafs that Surrey now made, and upon obferving his firft croffing of the Till, and his marching at some distance on the other fide of it, they imagined, that he intended alfo to cross the Tweed, perhaps by the bridge of Berwick, in order to ravage the fertile country of the Mers, and to draw fubfiftence from it to his ftarving army. In this opinion, the king of Scots is faid to have been induftriously confirmed by Giles Mufgrave, an Englishman, who enjoyed a great degree of his confidence, and traitorously abused it to the king's deftruction. Mufgrave's intention was to draw the king from his heights, to obferve or pursue the English. On the other hand, the Scottish nobles, who were averfe to the king's hazarding a battle, took occafion from these motions of the English, to perfuade him to retire without delay into his own country; which, as the English were plainly moving away from him, when the time prefixed for the battle was fo near, he might do, without the leaft violation of his honour. But the king declared an invincible refolution to keep his ground, and wait for them all the appointed day.
• When on that day it was perceived, that the English had again croffed the Till and were marching in the manner above defcribed. the Scots could no longer doubt of their refolution to come to an engagement. In order therefore to receive them with greater advan tage, and to pre-occupy the ground which it was believed the Englih would attempt to gain on the western fide of the hill, the Scots, fetting fire to their huts on the eastern part of it, made a motion weftward; and the fmoke being driven between the armies, concealed them from each other, until the English had almost arrived at the foot of the hill. Surrey, favoured by the trepidation which the unexpected circumftances of his approach had excited in the Scottish
army, and perceiving the afcent of the hill, to be fhort and moderately feep, refolved immediately to give battle.
The English army advanced in three divifions; the van under Thomas Howard, the general's eldest fon, lord admiral of England; the right wing of it being led by Sir Edmund Howard, brother to lord Thomas, and knight marfhal of the army. The middle divi- fon or main battle was led by the earl of Surrey in person, and the rear by Sir Edward Stanley. The lord Dacres commanded a body of referve, confifting of horfemen. The ordnance was placed in the front of the battle and in the spaces between the divifions. The van of the Scottish army was led on the right by Alexander Gordon earl of Huntley, and on the left by the earls of Crawford and Montrofe, and, according to fome, the lord Hume. The king was in the middle or main body. A third divifion was commanded by the earls of Lennox and Argyle, with whom were Mackenzie, Maclean, and the Highlanders. Adam Hepburn earl of Bothwell, with his kindred and clients, and the gentry of Lothian, formed a body of referve. The Scots had alfo a confiderable train of artillery. The advantage of cannonading was wholly on the fide of the English, the great guns of their enemies being planted fo high as to fhoot over their heads; while thofe of the English were fo well directed, that the chief cannoneer of the Scots was flain, the inferior gunners driven from their pieces, and feveral in the center of the Scottish army killed by the fhot. But the earls of Lennox and Argyle, together with lord Hume, moving with a body of fpearmen, fupported by fome horse, down the hill towards Brankfton, made a fierce attack on the wing commanded by Sir Edmund Howard, who was advancing boldly towards them. The fhock was violent, but the Scots prevailed; and Sir Edmund was reduced to the last extremity, himself beaten down the third time, and in immediate hazard of being killed or taken ; when lord Dacres, and the baftard Heron, who had joined the English army, with a troop of fierce outlaws, his followers, came in time to his rescue. Sir Edmund, thus relieved, immediately joined the body commanded by his brother lord Thomas, and the two brothers advancing against the earls of Crawford and Montrofe, whofe men were armed with fpears, a fharp conflict enfued, wherein the Scots were put to the rout, and the two earls flain. On the other fide of the field, Sir William Stanley, by the inceffant shot of archers commanded by himself, Sir William Molyneux, Sir Henry Kickley, and others, of Lancashire and Cheshire, forced the Scots to break their array, and come down to more even ground, where being attacked by three different bands, they were discomfited and put to fight; the earls of Argyle and Lennox being flain on the fpot. What the English writers afcribe to their archers in this part of the battle, the Scotch attribute to the undifciplined ferocity of the Highlanders, who, animated by the fuccefs of the attack made on the wing of the Englifh, commanded by Sir Edmund Howard, could not be reftrained
For fome circumftances, refpecting this perfon, fee the curious old ballad on the battle of Floddon; of which an account is given (including a remarkable story of Heron) in the 51ft volume of eur Review, P. 335.
from rushing down the hill upon their enemies in a precipitate and diforderly manner; notwithstanding the fignals, cries, and menaces, of La Motte the French ambaffador. The king of Scots was seized with the fame warlike rage; for no advice, no remonftrances of his attendants, could hinder him from his expofing his perfon in the thickest of the battle. Being joined by the earl of Bothwell and his band, he charged on foot, at the head of his beft men, who were fo firmly armed as to fuffer little from the arrows of the English. The attack made by him was pushed and maintained fo vigorously, that he had almoft overthrown the ftandards of the earl of Surrey; who at the fame time was exerting all his powers, both as a skilful commander and valiant foldier. But the wings of the Scottish army being totally routed, the lord Howard and Sir Edward Stanley, with their victorious followers, returned to the place of action, and affailed on each fide, the remnant of the Scottish army that ftill fought around their king, which was attacked alfo on the rear by lord Dacre's horfe. What alone remained to the Scots was, a defperate effort of fighting in a circle against their foes encompaffing them on every fide; nor could any thing be gained by this but the felling of their lives at the dearest rate. The king feeing his ftandard-bearer Sir Adam Forman fall, and difdaining the thoughts of captivity, preffed into the middle of his enemies, by whom, with many wounds, he was flain. Nigh to him fell his natural fon, the archbishop of St. Andrew's, a youth of the greatest hopes; and in the circle, three other eminent churchmen, with an amazing number of nobles and gentlemen.
This memorable battle began at four o'clock in the afternoon, and continued until darkness obliged the combatants to give over. Nor were the English altogether affured of their victory until the re turn of day.'
Our Author, in fome places, feems to be a little too abrupt in his narrative. He tells us, for instance, that about the beginning of the year 1537 James the Fifth paffed into France, where he was fo fuccefsful as to obtain in marriage Magdalen, the eldest daughter of the French king. And in the next page he fays, the king of Scotland, by this time (1538) had brought home his fecond wife, Mary of Lorrain.' He might at least have dropped a hint, what, in thofe wife-killing days, became of the firft; and whether he died without inue or otherwife particularly as he has, in general, been careful in mentioning all the alliances of the Scottish monarchs.
ART. III. Of the Origin and Progress of Language. Vol. III. 8vo. 6s. bound. Edinburgh, Balfour; Cadell, London.
N this third offering to the manes of Plato and Ariftotle, we find the fame enthufiaftic admiration of ancient learning, which the Author difcovered in the former parts of the work. He profeffes himself fo entirely devoted to the ancients, that he is fatisfied with adoring at a distance thofe footsteps in REV. Dec. 1776. Ff
which he acknowledges himself unable to tread.' He treats modern authors with fupercilious contempt, pronouncing them in general incapable of judging of the merits of his work, which refers to writings which they do not read or understand; and declares that he writes not for them, but chiefly for the scholars in England, and for the few that the prevalence of the French learning has left yet remaining in other parts of Europe. He pathetically laments the decline of ancient learning among us, as the loss of what was once the greatest ornament of this country; and enters his proteft against the tafte which prevails among modern pretenders to learning, in the following terms:
In an age in which the nomenclature of plants, and facts of natural history, are the chief ftudy of those who pretend to learning; and in the fashionable world the foppery of modern languages and modern wit (to use an expreffion of my Lord Shaftesbury) are reckoned the chief accomplishments, I cannot expect that a work of this kind fhould be much relished. Nevertheless, I am not forry to have left, before I die, this memorial behind me, that the taste and knowledge of ancient philofophy and ancient literature was not, in the year 1776, wholly loft in Scotland; notwithstanding the endeavours of certain perfons to difcredit this kind of learning, merely from a conciousnefs that they themselves do not excel in it: for I aver, that there is no example of any man who truly understood the ancient learning, and did not prefer it to every other.' .. Without entering into the merits of the question, how far ancient learning is the neceffary foundation of good writing, or determining whether it is fo generally neglected and despised as our Author reprefents; we think we may venture to affert, that an exceffive veneration for the authority of ancient names is unfavourable to the advancement of real knowledge and tafte; fince it prevents the free inveftigation of general principles and truths, and fixes a point of excellence, beyond which it becomes a kind of prefumption to think of afpiring. With critics of this caft, the name of ARISTOTLE is of higher authority than that of REASON; if a law of criticism bears the ftamp of antiquity, they give themfelves no trouble to inquire whether it is founded in nature; if a trope or figure is met with in an ancient writer, it is adopted without farther examination.
That we do our Author no injuftice by prefacing our account of this part of his work with thefe remarks, will fufficiently appear from the general tenor of his obfervations on ftyle, under the diftinct heads of the choice and compofition of words.
In fpeaking of the choice of words with refpect to found, Lord Monboddo laments that modern languages, not being termed by rule like the ancient, cannot like them be altered by
rule, for the fake of melody; and yet, at the fame time, quotes feveral harsh elifions from Milton, as proofs of a fuccessful imitation of the ancient manner. Regarding etymology as a better ftandard to determine the meaning and proper ufe of words, than general cuftom, he paffes an encomium on Milton for employing words in a fenfe wholly unknown in Englith, where it agrees with that of the Latin or Greek radicals. Enamoured with the rhythmus of the ancients, he recommends a fimilar melody in the arrangement of words and ftructure of periods in modern languages; but without accurately afcertaining wherein that melody must confift, or pointing out the means by which it may be produced. In treating of tropes and figures of fpeech, he commends the imitation of the Latin phrafeology which he obferves in Milton, even where it is evidently inconfiftent with general ufe, or what may be ftiled claffical compofition, in English; proceeding through the whole of his remarks upon this falfe idea, that what was proper in the antient languages must be fo in the modern. While he ridicules the ufe of Gallicifms, he quotes with approbation fuch Latinifms as thefe: "Ere he arrive the happy ifle-me, of thefe nor fkill'd nor ftudious-yet oft his heart, divine of Jomething ill, misgave him."
After a long enumeration of tropes and figures, our Critic proceeds to inform his readers, that there are a great variety of figures, which have never yet been defined or claffed; and without attempting to define or clafs them, or condescending to affift us in divining what fort of figures he means, he gives us a string of quotations from Virgil's Georgics in the following concile and edifying manner:
With the omens of the weather, and particularly thos which are drawn from the appearances of the fun, he connects the prodigies that appeared about the time of Julius Cæfar's death in the following line,
Denique quid vefper ferus vehat, &c.
Then he changes the form thus ;
Quoties Cyclopum effervere, &c.
After this he proceeds to mix with this artificial fome plain compofition, telling us fimply what happened:
Armorum jonitum toto, &c.
• And fo he goes on for feveral lines, till he again ftyle in this manner:
v. 474. figures the
Nec tempore codem, &c.
Then after going on a little farther in this form, he changes to another of this kind;
Non alias calo ceciderunt, &c.
v. 487. Then