Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXXII. by Various

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At length, on the eve of the taking of Anapa, the Russians opened a
breaching-battery in a ravine on the south-east side of the town: its
effect was tremendous. At the fifth volley the battlements and parapets
were overthrown, the guns laid bare and beaten down. The balls, striking
against the stone facing, flashed like lightning; and then, in a black
cloud of dust, flew up fragments of shattered stone. The wall crumbled
and fell to pieces; but the fortress, by the thickness of its walls,
resisted long the shattering force of the iron; and the precipitous
steepness of the ruins offered no opportunity for storming. For the
heated guns, and for the weary artillerymen, worn out by incessant
firing, repose was absolutely necessary. By degrees the firing from the
batteries by land and sea began to slacken; thick clouds of smoke,
floating from the shore, expanded over the waves, sometimes concealing,
sometimes discovering, the flotilla. From time to time a ball of smoke
flew up from the guns of the fortress, and after the rolling of the
cannon-thunder, far echoing among the hills, a ball would whistle by at
random. And now all was silent--all was still both in the interior of
Anapa and in the trenches. Not one turban was seen between the
battlements, not one carabineer's bayonet in the intrenchment. Only the
Turkish banners on the towers, and the Russian ensign on board the
ships, waved proudly in the air, now undimmed by a single stream of
smoke--only the harmonious voices of the muezzins resounded from afar,
calling the Mussulmans to their mid-day prayer. At this moment, from the
breach opposite the battery on the plain, descended, or rather rolled
down, supported by ropes, a horseman on a white horse, who immediately
leaped over the half-filled ditch, dashed to the left between the
batteries, flew over the intrenchments, over the soldiers dozing behind
them, who neither expected nor guessed any thing like this, and,
followed by their hasty shouts, plunged into the woods. None of the
cavalry had time to glance at, much less to pursue him: all remained
thunderstruck with astonishment and vexation; and soon forgot all about
the brave cavalier, in the alarm of the renewed firing from the
fortress, which was recommenced in order to give the bold messenger time
to escape to the mountains. Towards evening the breaching battery, which
had thundered almost incessantly, had accomplished its work of
demolition. The prostrate wall formed a kind of bridge for the
besiegers, who, with the impatience of bravery, prepared for the
assault; when suddenly an unexpected attack of the Tcherkess, who had
driven in the Russian scouts and outposts, compelled the besiegers to
direct the fire of the redans against the furious mountaineers. A
thundering Allah-il-Allah, from the walls of Anapa, greeted their
encounter: the volleys of cannon and musketry arose with redoubled
violence from the walls, but the Russian grape tore asunder and arrested
the crowds of horsemen and infantry of the Tcherkess, as they were
preparing to throw themselves upon the batteries with their sabres; and
they, with furious cries of "Giaour, giaourla!" turned back, leaving
behind them the dead and wounded. In a moment the whole field was strewn
with their corpses and their disabled, who, staggering to their feet,
fell back, struck by the balls and grape-shot; whilst the cannon-shot
shattered the wood, and the grenades, bursting, completed the
destruction. But from the beginning of the action, till the moment when
not one of the enemy remained in sight, the Russians saw before them a
well-built Tcherkess on a white horse, who rode, at a slow pace, up and
down before their redans. All recognized in him the same horseman who
had leaped over the trenches at mid-day, probably in order to induce the
Tcherkess to fall upon the Russians from the rear, at the moment when
the now unsuccessful sortie was to be made from the gate. Crashing and
thundering danced the grape-shot around him. His horse strained at the
bridle; but he, looking calmly at the batteries, rode along them as if
they were raining flowers upon him. The artillerymen ground their teeth
with vexation at the unpunished daring of the cavalier: shot after shot
tore up the earth, but he remained unhurt as if enchanted. "Give him a
cannon-ball!" shouted a young officer of artillery, but lately released
from the military college, who was above all enraged at their want of
success: "I would load the gun with my head, so glad would I be to kill
that bragger: it is not worth while to waste grape upon one
man--grape--look out! a cannon-ball will reach the guilty!" So saying,
he screwed up the quoin and levelled the gun, looking through the sight;
and having exactly calculated the moment when the horseman would ride
through the line of aim, he stepped aside and ordered the fatal fire.

For some moments the smoke enveloped the battery in darkness: when it
floated away the frightened horse was dragging the blood-stained corpse
of his rider, with the foot entangled in the stirrup. "Hit--killed!" was
shouted from all the trenches; and the young artillery officer, taking
off his cap, piously crossed himself, and with a joyous face jumped down
from the battery to seize the prey which he had earned. He soon
succeeded in catching by the reins the horse of the slain Tcherkess, for
he was dragging the body sideways on the ground. The unfortunate man had
his arm torn off close to the shoulder; but he still breathed, groaned,
and struggled. Pity touched the good-natured youth: he called some
soldiers, and ordered them to carry the wounded man carefully into the
trench, sent for the surgeon, and had the operation performed before his
eyes. At night, when all was quiet, the artilleryman sat by the side of
his dying prisoner, and watched him with interest by the dim light of
the lantern. The serpent-marks of sorrow, graven on his cheek by tears,
the wrinkles on his forehead, dug, not by years but passions, and bloody
scratches, disfigured his handsome face; and in it was painted something
more torturing than pain, more terrible than death. The artilleryman
could not restrain an involuntary shudder. The prisoner sighed heavily,
and having, with difficulty, raised his hand to his forehead, opened his
heavy eyelids, muttering to himself in unintelligible sounds,
unconnected words.... "Blood," he cried, examining his hand ... "always
blood! why have they put _his_ bloody shirt upon me? Already, without
that, I swim in blood.... Why do I not drown in it?... How cold the
blood is to-day!... Once it used to scald me, and this is no better! In
the world it is stifling, in the gave so cold.... 'Tis dreadful to be a
corpse. Fool that I am, I sought death. O, let me live but for one
little day--one little hour, to live!..."

"What? Why have I hidden another in the grave, _whisperest thou_? Learn
thyself what it is to die!..." A convulsive paroxysm interrupted his
raving, an unspeakably dreadful groan burst from the sufferer, and he
fell into a painful lethargy, in which the soul lives only to suffer.

The artilleryman, touched to the very bottom of his heart, raised the
head of the miserable being, sprinkled his face with cold water, and
rubbed his temples with spirits of wine, in order to bring him to
himself. Slowly he opened his eyes, shook his head several times, as if
to shake the mist from his eyelashes, and steadfastly directed his gaze
on the face of the artilleryman, which was faintly lighted up by the
feeble gleam of the candle. Suddenly, with a piercing cry, he lifted
himself on his bed, as if by some superhuman force: his hair stood
upright, his whole body shook with a fevered trembling, his hand seemed
endeavouring to push something from him, an ineffable horror was
expressed on his countenance.... "Your name!" he cried at length,
addressing the artilleryman. "Who are thou, stranger from the grave?"

"I am Verkhoffsky?" ... answered the young artilleryman. This was a shot
that went straight to the heart of the prisoner. The ligature on the
principal artery gave way from a rush of blood, which poured through the
bandages. Yet a few struggles, yet the throat-rattle, and the leaden
hand of death choked the wounded man's last sigh, imprinted on his brow
the seal of the last grief; gathering whole years of repentance into one
rapid moment, in which the soul, tearing itself from the body, fears
equally the tortures of life and of nothingness, feels at once all the
gnawing of the past and all the agony of the future. Terrible was it to
look on the convulsed face of the dead. "He surely must have been a
great sinner," said Verkhoffsky, in a low voice to the general's
interpreter, who stood near him, and he shuddered involuntarily.

"A great villain," rejoined the interpreter: "it appears to me he was a
Russian deserter. I never met with a mountaineer who spoke Russian so
correctly as this prisoner. Let me look at his arms. We may, perhaps,
find some marks on them." With these words he unsheathed, with a look of
curiosity, the dagger which had been taken from the dead man, and
bringing it to the lantern, deciphered and translated the following
inscription:--

"Be slow to offend--swift to revenge!"

"Quite a robber's rule," said Verkhoffsky; "my poor brother Evstafli!
you fell a victim to such a fanatic principle as this!"

The eyes of the good youth filled with tears.... "Is there not something
else?" he asked.

"This is apparently the slain man's name," replied the interpreter.

"It is: Ammalat Bek!"

* * * * *

MR BAILEY'S REPLY TO AN ARTICLE IN BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

We have just been favoured with a pamphlet from Mr Bailey, entitled "A
Letter to a Philosopher, in Reply to some Recent Attempts to Vindicate
Berkeley's Theory of Vision, and in further Elucidation of its
Unsoundness." Our article on Mr Bailey's review of Berkeley's theory,
which appeared in _Blackwood's Magazine_ of June 1842, was one of these
attempts. Had the author merely attacked or controverted our
animadversions on his book, we should probably have left the question to
its fate, and not have reverted to a subject, the discussion of which,
even in the first instance, may have been deemed out of place in a
journal not expressly philosophical. There is, in general, little to be
gained by protracting such controversies. But, as Mr Bailey accuses us,
in the present instance, of having misrepresented his views, we must be
allowed to exculpate ourselves from the charge of having dealt, even
with unintentional unfairness, towards one whose opinions, however much
we may dissent from them, are certainly entitled to high respect and a
candid examination, as the convictions of an able and zealous enquirer
after truth.

In our strictures on Mr Bailey's work, we remarked, that he had
represented Berkeley as holding that the eye is not directly and
originally cognizant of the outness of objects in relation to each
other, or of what we would call their reciprocal outness; in other
words, we stated, that, according to Mr Bailey, Berkeley must be
regarded as denying to the eye the original intuition of space, either
in length, breadth, or solid depth. It was, however, only in reference
to one of his arguments, and to one particular division of his subject,
that we laid this representation to his charge. Throughout the other
parts of his discussion, we by no means intended to say that such was
the view he took of the Berkeleian theory. Nor are we aware of having
made any statement to that effect. If we did, we now take the
opportunity of remarking, that we restrict our allegation, as we believe
we formerly restricted it, to the single argument and distinction just
mentioned, and hereafter to be explained.

In his reply, Mr Bailey disavows the impeachment _in toto_. He declares
that he never imputed to Berkeley the doctrine, that the eye is not
directly percipient of space in the two dimensions of length and
breadth. "The perception of this kind of distance," says he, "never
formed the subject of controversy with any one ... That we see extension
in two dimensions is admitted by all."--(_Letter_, p. 10.) If it can be
shown that the doctrine which is here stated to be admitted by all
philosophers, is yet expressly controverted by the two metaphysicians
whom Mr Bailey appears to have studied most assiduously, it is, at any
rate, possible that he may have overlooked, in his own writings, the
expression of an opinion which has escaped his penetration in theirs. To
convince himself, then, how much he is mistaken in supposing that the
visual intuition of longitudinal and lateral extension is admitted by
all philosophers, he has but to turn to the works of Dr Brown and the
elder Mill. In arguing that we have no immediate perception of visible
figure, Dr Brown not only virtually, but expressly, asserts that the
sight has no perception of extension in any of its dimensions. Not to
multiply quotations, the following will, no doubt, be received as
sufficient:--"They (i.e. philosophers) have--_I think without sufficient
reason_--universally supposed that the superficial extension of _length
and breadth_ becomes known to us by sight originally."[28] Dr Brown then
proceeds to argue, with what success we are not at present considering,
that our knowledge of extension and figure is derived from another
source than the sense of sight.

[28] Brown's Lectures, Lecture xxviii.

Mr James Mill, an author whom Mr Bailey frequently quotes with
approbation, and in confirmation of his own views, is equally explicit.
He maintains, in the plainest terms, that the eye has no intuition of
space, or of the reciprocal outness of visible objects. "Philosophy,"
says he, "has ascertained that we derive nothing from the eye whatever
but sensations of colour--that the idea of extension [he means in its
three dimensions] is derived from sensations not in the eye, but in the
muscular part of our frame."[29] Thus, contrary to what Mr Bailey
affirms, these two philosophers limit the office of vision to the
perception of mere colour or difference of colour, denying to the eye
the original perception of extension in any dimension whatever. In their
estimation, the intuition of space is no more involved in our perception
of different colours than it is involved in our perception of different
smells or different sounds. Dr Brown's doctrine, in which Mr Mill seems
to concur, is, that the perception of superficial extension no more
results from a certain expanse of the optic nerve being affected by a
variety of colours than it results from a certain expanse of the
olfactory nerve being affected by a variety of odours.[30] So much for
Mr Bailey's assertion, that _all_ philosophers admit the perception of
extension in two dimensions.

[29] Mill's Analysis, vol. i. p. 73.

[30] This reasoning of Dr Brown's is founded upon an assumed
analogy between the structure of the optic nerve, and the
structure of the olfactory nerves and other sensitive nerves,
and is completely disproved by the physiological observations of
Treviranus, who has shown that no such analogy exists: that the
ends of the nervous fibres in the retina being elevated into
distinct separate _papillae_, enable us to perceive the
extension, and discriminate the position of visible bodies,
while the nerves of the other senses being less delicately
defined, are not fitted to furnish us with any such perception,
or to aid us in making any such discrimination. See _Mueller's
Physiology, translated by W. Baly, M.D._, vol. ii. pp. 1073,
1074. Although the application of Treviranus's discovery to the
refutation of Dr Brown's reasoning is our own, we may remark, in
justice to an eminent philosopher, that it was Sir William
Hamilton who first directed our attention to the _fact_ as
established by the great physiologist.

But, of course, our main business is with the expression of his own
opinion. In rebutting our charge, he maintains that "the visibility of
angular distance (that is of extension laterally) is assumed, by
implication, as part of Berkeley's doctrine, in _almost_ every chapter
of my book."--(_Letter_, p. 13.) That word _almost_ is a provident
saving clause; for we undertake to show that not only is the very
reverse assumed, by implication, as part of Berkeley's doctrine, in the
_single_ chapter to which we confined our remarks, but that, in another
part of his work, it is expressly avowed as the only alternative by
which, in the author's opinion, Berkeley's consistency can be preserved.

At the outset of his enquiry, Mr Bailey divides his discussion into two
branches: first, Whether objects are originally seen to be external, or
at _any_ distance at all from the sight; and, secondly, Supposing it
admitted that they are seen to be external, or at _some_ distance from
the sight, whether they are all seen in the same plane, or equally near.
It was to the former of these questions that we exclusively confined our
remarks;[31] and it was in reference to it, and to an important argument
evolved by Mr Bailey in the course of its discussion, that we charged
him with fathering on Berkeley the doctrine which he now disavows as his
interpretation of the bishop's opinion. He further disputes the
relevancy of the question about our perception of lateral extension, and
maintains that distance in a direction from the percipient, or what we
should call protensive distance, is the only matter in dispute; and that
it is a misconception of the scope of Berkeley's essay to imagine
otherwise. The relevancy of the question shall be disposed of
afterwards. In the mean time, the question at issue is, Can the
allegation which we have laid to Mr Bailey's charge be proved to be the
fact, or not?

[31] Mr Bailey seems disposed to carp at us for having confined
our remarks to this first question, and for not having given a
more complete review of his book. But the reason why we cut
short our critique is obvious; for if it be proved, as we
believe it can, that objects are originally seen at _no distance
whatever_ from the sight, it becomes quite superfluous to
enquire what appearance they would present if originally seen at
_some_ distance from the sight. The way in which we disposed of
the first question, however imperfect our treatment of it may
have been, necessarily prevented us from entering upon the
second; and our review, with all its deficiencies, was thus a
complete review of his book, though not a review of his complete
book.

In discussing the first of the two questions, it was quite possible for
Mr Bailey to have represented Berkeley as holding, that visible objects,
though not seen to be external to the sight, were yet seen to be out of
each other, or laterally extended within the organism or the mind. But
Mr Bailey makes no such representation of the theory, and the whole
argument which pervades the chapter in which the first question is
discussed, is founded on the negation of any such extension. All visible
extension, he tells us, must, in his opinion, be either plane or solid.
Now he will scarcely maintain that he regarded Berkeley as holding that
we perceive solid extension within the organism of the eye. Neither does
he admit that, according to Berkeley, and in reference to this first
question, plane extension is perceived within the organism of the eye.
For when he proceeds to the discussion of the _second_ of the two
questions, he remarks that "we must, _at this stage_ of the argument,
consider the theory under examination, as representing that we see all
things _originally in the same plane_,"[32] obviously implying that he
had not _as yet_ considered the theory as representing that we see
things originally in the same plane: in other words, plainly admitting
that, in his treatment of the first question, he had not regarded the
theory as representing that we see things originally under the category
of extension at all.

[32] Review of Berkeley's Theory, p 35.

But if any more direct evidence on this point were wanted, it is to be
found in the section of his work which treats of "the perception of
figure." In the chapter in which he discusses the first of the two
questions, he constantly speaks of Berkeley's theory as representing
that "our visual sensations, or what we ultimately term visible objects,
are originally mere internal feelings." The expression _mere internal
feelings_, however, is ambiguous; for, as we have said, it might still
imply that Mr Bailey viewed the theory as representing that there was an
extension, or reciprocal outness of objects within the retina. But this
doubt is entirely removed by a passage in the section alluded to, which
proves that, in Mr Bailey's estimation, these mere internal feelings not
only involve no such extension, but that there would be an inconsistency
in supposing they did. In this section he brings forward Berkeley's
assertion, "that neither solid nor plane figures are immediate objects
of sight." He then quotes a passage in which the bishop begs the reader
not to stickle too much "about this or that phrase, or manner of
expression, but candidly to collect his meaning from the whole sum and
tenour of his discourse." And then Mr Bailey goes on to say,
"endeavouring, in the spirit here recommended, to collect the author's
meaning when he affirms that the figures we see are neither plane nor
solid, it appears to me to be _a part or consequence_ of his doctrine
already examined, which asserts that visible objects are only internal
feelings."[33] We can now be at no loss to understand what Mr Bailey
means, and conceives Berkeley to mean, by the expression "mere internal
feelings." He evidently means feelings in which no kind of extension
whatever is involved: for, in the next page, he informs us that all
visual extension or extended figure, "_must_ be apprehended as either
plane or solid, and that it is impossible even to conceive it
otherwise." Consequently, if the figures we see are, as Berkeley says,
apprehended neither as plane nor as solid, Mr Bailey, entertaining the
notions he does on the subject of extension, _must_ regard him as
holding that they cannot be apprehended as extended at all--and
accordingly such is the express representation he gives of the theory in
the passage just quoted, where he says that "the doctrine of Berkeley,
which affirms that the figures we see are neither plane nor solid, (that
is, are extended in _no_ direction, according to Mr Bailey's ideas of
extension,) appears to him to be _a part_ of the doctrine which asserts
that visible objects are only internal feelings." Now if that be not
teaching, in the plainest terms, that, according to Berkeley, no species
of extension is implied in the internal feelings of vision, we know not
what language means, and any one thought may be identical with its very
opposite.

[33] Ibid. p. 136.

Here we might let the subject drop, having, as we conceive, said quite
enough to prove the truth of our allegation that, in reference to the
first question discussed, in which our original visual sensations are
represented by Berkeley to be mere internal feelings, Mr Bailey
understood and stated those feelings to signify sensations in which no
perception of extension whatever was involved. However, as Mr Bailey
further remarks that, "although Berkeley's doctrine about visible
figures being neither plane not solid, is thus consistent with his
assertion that they are internal feelings, it is in itself
contradictory,"[34] we shall contribute a few remarks to show that
while, on the one hand, the negation of extension is not required to
vindicate the consistency of Berkeley's assertion, that visible objects
are internal feelings, neither, on the other hand, is there any
contradiction in Berkeley's holding that objects are not seen either as
planes or as solids, and are yet apprehended as extended. Mr Bailey
alleges that we are "far more successful in involving ourselves in
subtle speculations of our own, than in faithfully guiding our readers
through the theories of other philosophers." Perhaps in the present case
we shall be able to thread a labyrinth where our reviewer has lost his
clue, and, in spite of the apparent contradiction by which Mr Bailey has
been gravelled, we shall, perhaps, be more successful than he in
"collecting Berkeley's meaning from the whole sum and tenour of his
discourse."

[34] Review of Berkeley's Theory, p. 137.

First, with regard to the contradiction charged upon the bishop. When we
open our eyes, what do we behold? We behold points--_minima
visibilia_--out of one another. Do we see these points to be in the same
plane? Certainly not. If they are in the same plane we learn this from a
very different experience from that of sight. Again, do we see these
points to be _not_ in the same plane? Certainly not. If the points are
not in the same plane we learn this, too, from a very different
experience than that of sight. All that we see is that the points are
out of one another; and this simply implies the perception of extension,
without implying the perception either of plane or of solid extension.
Thus by the observation of a very obvious fact, which, however, Mr
Bailey has overlooked, is Berkeley's assertion that visible objects are
apprehended as extended, and yet not apprehended either as planes or
solids, relieved from every appearance of contradiction.

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