CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.
CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.
CONSISTING OF ANECDOTES, CHARACTERS, SKETCHES, AND OBSERVATIONS, LITERARY, CRITICAL, AND HISTORICAL.
INDOCTI DISCANT,
AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI
HORACE,
CONTENT, IF HERE, TH' UNLEARN'D THEIR WANTS MAY VIEW;
THE LEARN'D REFLECT ON WHAT BEFORE THEY KNEW.
POPE.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. MURRAY, NO. 32, FLEET STREET. MDCCXCI.
PREFACE.
THE present Volume pretends to no other merit, than that of being a laborious selection of the most interesting parts of the various ANA. To these valuable stores of Literature I have added some Anecdotes, which appeared to me amusive and curious; and some Observations, which, I hope, will not be deemed impertinent.
The ANA form a body of Literature not universally known. It may, therefore, be useful to inform the reader, that in the early part of the last century, it was prevailing custom to take down for publication the Conversations, or '
Table-Talk,
' as they have been sometimes called, of the most eminent Wits and Scholars. To satisfy the demands of Famine, rather than those of Literature, some men were prompted to sell their Collections to the Booksellers; and it may be fairly presumed, were less attentive to the richness of the materials then to the number of pages they were calculated to fill. Others published them at the death of a valued Friend, to display the extent of his science, or the felicity of his genius; and it must be confessed, that even these were not so scrupulous as they should have been of what they admitted into their Collections.
Had such Repositories of Literature been judiciously formed, they would, have proved a valuable acquisition to the Republic of Letters: but their respective Compilers have evinced great inattention, or little discernment; nothing was discriminated in the mass of their materials; they appear to have listened to the mouth of the Scholar whose sentiments they record, as the credulous Enthusiast did in ancient times to the Oracle he worshipped. Thus, whatever was unintelligible, obscure, or even false, was held by these Literary Devotees in as great reverence as it's opposite.
It has been repeatedly urged, and allowed, that the matter of elaborate Treatises, and even ponderous Volumes, may not infrequently be comprized in concise Essays, or short Remarks. Some things of this kind are attempted in the present Volume; and I have been prompted towards it's publication, by a conviction that it will furnish much useful information to the generality of readers.
It is not just, however, that curiosity should be raised too high. If expectations are formed, which are impossible to be gratified, abilities infinitely superior to mine must be humbled. All the Anecdotes I offer will not be new: of some, I pretend only to remind the reader; but the greater part, I have frequently been tempted to believe, will appear interesting.
The fashionable and commercial world are too much occupied to attend to serious discussion and scientific research: the one laboriously occupied in doing nothing, and the other indefatigable in doing every thing. To the literary labourer they leave the cultivation of the fields and the gardens of Literature: they are willing to purchase the productions of his talents; but they expect to receive only the fruits and the flowers. To such, who form indeed the generality of readers, it is presumed, the present Collection will not be found unuseful. Whatever is most interesting in books rarely to be met with, or whatever is most agreeable in compilations which it would be impossible for them to peruse with patience, is here selected: and, if it is not presumptuous to add, the Man of Letters, at the same time, may be reminded of important Observations, striking Anecdotes, and attic Pleasantries; which, however they deserve to be retained, will, without some Vade Mecum of this kind, soon escape from the most tenacious memory. In a word, if this Collection answers the hopes of the Editor, it will be found a Miscellany not unamusive to the Literary Lounger.
As I have acknowledged that this Volume contains, for the most part, only a Collection from the Works of others, some Aristarchus may sagaciously discover, that it is not difficult to make books in this manner. With this I shall agree. But it will be admitted, that it has cost some care and some labour to collect these materials. Should the useful and the agreeable be found blended, I believe the Public care little whether the Author has written every sentence himself; or, like me, stands deeply indebted to the works of other Writers.
To improve an arrangement which is not always so perfect as I could wish, I have added a copious INDEX: each Article also is titled, so that wherever the book is opened, the subject discussed immediately appears.
To be useful, and to please the Public, is my design. My Work is not adapted to extend, or to bestow, reputation: it is sufficient, if it attains it's humble pretension. A multifarious Collection of this kind stands in great need of Critical Candour: yet I should feel myself little solicitous concerning it's reception, if I were certain that the urbanity of the Critic was to dicide it's fate.
THE EDITOR.
CONTENTS.
LITERATURE AND CRITICISM.
THE Persecuted Learned 1
Friar Bacon 4
Recovery of Manuscripts 8
Sketches of Criticism 11
Tartarian Libraries 17
The Bibliomania 19
The Turks 21
Portraits of Authors 23
Criticism 25
The Law and the Prophets 28
The Six Follies of Science
ib.
Republic of Letters 30
Esdras 34
Aristotle 36
Gregory the Seventh 37
Scholastic Disquisitions 38
Taste
ib.
Imitators 41
Cicero 42
Socrates 43
Prefaces 45
Ancients and Moderns 46
Mutual Persecution
ib.
Fine Thoughts 47
Early Printing 53
Patrons 54
The Imprisonment of the Learned 56
Poverty of the Learned 60
Destruction of Books 64
Descartes and Harvey 66
Legends 67
Fair-Sex having no Souls 72
Poets, Philosophers, and Artists, made by Accident 75
Physicians write little on Professional Subjects 76
Amusements of Men of Letters 78
The Belles Letters 82
Teaching the Classics 85
Errata 87
Samuel Purchas 88
On the Notes Variorum 91
Editions of the Classics, in Usum Delphini 92
The Origin of Literary Journals 95
Guy Patin 100
The Talmud and Gemara 106
Cardinal Richelieu 111
Cardan 116
Martin Luther and Calvin 117
Tertullian 119
Abelard 122
Adam not the first Man 123
The Arabic Chronicle 125
Prior's Hans Carvel 127
Pliny 129
Mademoiselle de Scudery 131
The Scaligers 135
De la Rochefoucault 142
Fathers of the Church 144
Severe Criticism 145
The Port-Royal Society
ib.
The Progress of Old Age in New Studies 148
Spanish Poetry 149
Saint Evremond 152
Corneille and Addison 155
Vida 157
Matthew Paris 159
The Numeral Figures 160
Conception and Expression 161
Books of Love and Devotion 162
Geographical Diction
ib.
Saints carrying their Heads in their Hands 163
Noblemen turned Critics 164
The Art of Criticism 167
The Absent Man 171
Metaphors 173
Gibbon 177
Innovation 179
The Custom of Saluting after Sneezing 181
Bon Aventures de Periers 183
De Thou 186
Religious Enmity 187
The Monk turned Author 189
Grotius 191
On the Adjective
Pretty
192
A Pope's Latin 193
Astrology
ib.
Alchymy 195
Athenian Tribunals for Dramatic Composition 202
The Florence Professor 204
Inequalities of Genius 206
Student in the Metropolis 207
Physiognomy and Palmistry 210
Characters described by Musical Notes 214
Scripture Expressions derived from Customs 217
A Visionary Book 219
Impositions of Authors 223
Translation 226
The Origin of Newspapers and Periodical Literature 228
Literary Composition 233
Virgil 238
Milton 247
Arabic Proverbs 257
HISTORICAL ANECDOTES.
TRIALS and Proofs of Guilt in superstitious Ages 259
Singularities observed by various Nations in their Repasts 264
Marriage Dispensations 271
English Ladies
ib.
Spanish Monks 273
Monarchs 274
The Virgin Mary
ib.
Protestants 276
Coffee 278
Inquisition 279
The Illustrious 282
Cromwell 283
Joan of Arc 285
Transubstantiation 286
America 287
Enchanted Tapestry 289
Fashions 290
Great and Little Turk 262
Pouliats and Pouliches 293
The Thirteen Cantons 300
Charles the First 301
' King of England, France, &c.' 303
William the Conqueror 305
Charles the Fifth 307
The Goths and Huns 308
Philip the Third 310
Dethroned Monarchs 311
Royal Divinities 313
Historian 315
Queen Elizabeth
ib.
Parr and Jenkins 318
Feudal Tyranny 321
Gaming 326
The Athenians 330
Pope Sixtus the Fifth 338
The Senate of Jesuits 340
The Body of Caesar 345
Historical Misrepresentation 346
The Italians 349
History of Poverty 335
Slavery 367
A New Religion 379
Edward the Fourth 386
A Relic 389
Vicar of Bray 392
Spanish Etiquette 393
Hell 395
Douglas 398
The Lover's Heart 400
The History of Gloves 404
MISCELLANEA.
ARTIFICIAL Memory 415
Beards the Delight of the ancient Beauties 417
Wax-Work 419
Anatomists 421
Monks
ib.
Aetna and Vesuvius 423
Roads 424
Light Summer Showers forming burning Mirrors 435
Bleeding and Evacuation, two Remedies for Love 427
Infectious Diseases 431
Genealogy 433
Amber-Gris 434
Pious Frauds 435
Chinese Physicians 436
Female Beauty, and Ornaments 437
The Wooden Daughter of Descartes 441
A Traveller's Singularities 442
A Heavy Heart 443
Pasquin and Marforio 444
Music 446
Locusts 448
Anti-Moine, or Antimony; Coffee; and Jesuit's Bark 449
Babylon, Thebes, and Nineveh 452
Solomon and Sheba 453
Poets reciting their Works in Public 456
How the Bells of the Church Steeple advise about Marriage 458
The Three Racans 461
The Excellent Preacher 464
The Venetian Horseman 466
The Porridge-Pot of the Cordeliers 467
Great Painters 469
French and Spaniards 471
Animals imitate Language and Action 474
Attic Pleasantries 478
Barbier's Epitaph 481
Becker's Portrait 482
Noah and Saturn 483
Metempsichosis 486
Mother Tongues 487
Latin Tongue 488
English Tongue 492
Dutch and German Languages 468
Etymons of Mummies, and Volume 499
Character of the French, the Spanish, and the Italian Languages 500
Language 502
The Living Language 503
An Account of a curious Philological Book 505
Arabic 507
The Hebrew 508
Samaritan, Chaldaic, Syriac, Ethiopian, Persian, Armenian, Tartarian, and Chinese, Languages 511
Use of the Pagan Mythology in Poetry 513
On the Poetry of Baron Haller 522
His 'Desire to regain his Native Country, written when the Author was in Holland,' rendered into English Prose 524
The Poetry of Haller versified 528
CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.
LITERATURE AND CRITICISM.
THE PERSECUTED LEARNED.
VIRGILIUS, Bishop of Salisbury, having written, that there existed Antipodes; Boniface, Archbishop of Mayence, the Pope's Legate, declared him a heretic, and consigned him to the flames.
Galileo, because he believed in the Copernican System, now universally established, was condemned at Rome publicly to disavow sentiments the truth of which must have been to him abundantly manifest.
The most valued of Gabriel Naudé's works is his Apology for those great Men who have been accused of Magic. In that book, he has recorded a melancholy number of the most eminent scholars, who have found, that to have been successful in their studies, was a success which harrassed them with a continued persecution, that sometimes led them into the prison, and sometimes bound them to the stake.
Urbé Grandier, for whose life, replete with interesting anecdote, I refer the reader to Bayle, was burnt alive through the machinations of a rival, who formed a conspiracy against this amiable and unfortunate scholar, by contriving to get the depositions of some nuns to prove the crime of magic. These women must have been guilty of the most horrid perjuries.
Cornelius Agrippa was necessitated to fly his country, and the enjoyments of a rich income, merely for having displayed a few philosophical experiments which now every school-boy can perform. The people beheld him as an object of horror; and not infrequently, when he walked the streets, he found them empty at his approach. He died, of disease and famine, in an hospital.
In the present day, when the lights of philosophy have become so generally expanded, we perceive the little foundation of all these accusations of magic. What a dreadful chain must there have been of perjuries and conspiracies! One is willing to imagine, for the honour of human nature, that so deep a malignity, and so sedate a cruelty, could not have tainted the heart of men; but the simple recital of history forms, too often, the severest satire on human nature.
Our great Roger Bacon, by a degree of penetration which perhaps has never been equalled, discovered some of the most occult secrets in Nature. She seems, indeed—if I may so express myself—to have stood naked before him. His honours have been stolen from him by more modern authors, who have appeared inventors when they were copying Bacon. Yet, for the reward of all his intense studies, the holy brethren, and the infallible Majesty of Rome, occasioned him to languish in prison during the greater part of his life.
The catalogue of the Persecuted Learned is indeed voluminous. We need not waste our tears on fictitious sorrows, while the remembrance of these men shall exist!
FRIAR BACON.
MY zeal for the memory of this illustrious scholar impels me to transcribe, which it will be found I seldom do, from a book that is in every body's hands. From the faithful and laborious Henry, have I collected what follows concerning Roger Bacon—
' We cannot but lament that Friar Bacon met with so many discouragements in the pursuit of useful knowledge. If he had lived in better times, or if he had even been permitted to prosecute that course of enquiries and experiments in which he engaged after his return from Paris, it is highly probable that the world would have many valuable discoveries that are still unknown.
' An excellent modern writer, Dr. Friend, having enumerated some of Bacon's discoveries, adds—"These are wonderful discoveries for a man to make in so ignorant an age, who had no master to teach him, but struck it all out of his own brain: but it is still more wonderful that such discoveries should lie so long concealed; till, in the next succeeding centuries, other people should start up, and lay claim to those very inventions to which Bacon alone had a right."
' Bacon discovered the art of making Reading-glasses, the Camera Obscura, Microscopes, Telescopes, and various other mathematical and astronomical instruments. He discovered a method of performing all the chymical operations that are now in use. He combined the mechanical powers in so wonderful a manner, that it was for this he was accused of magic. His discoveries in medicine were by no means unimportant. That the ingredients of gunpowder, and the art of making it, were well known to him, is now undeniable: but the
humane philosopher,
dreading the consequences of communicating this discovery to the world, transposed the letters of the Latin words which signify Charcoal, which made the whole obscure. It was done thus—
Luru mope can vbre,
(
carbonum pulvere.
) By this means he rendered it difficult to discover this dangerous secret by the perusal of his works; and, at the same time, secured to himself the honour of having known it, by specifying the other ingredients, if it should be discovered by any other person. This accordingly happened after Bacon's death; for, about the beginning of the fourteenth century, one Barthold Schwartz, a German monk, and chymist, accidentally discovered gunpowder, as he was pounding saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal, in a mortar, for some other purpose.'
To this we may add, that the Chinese employed gunpowder in their wars; and were familiar with the art of printing, probably, some centuries before we made use of them in Europe.
Though Bacon is mentioned, in this artical, as the inventor of optical glasses, Marville gives a curious piece of information. He says, that 'it is generally known, that James Metius, a Dutchman, invented, in 1609,
spectacles
and
telescopes
; and that Galileo, being at Venice, imitated as well as he could a telescope, and astonished the learned Venetians from the tower of St. Mark with this novel invention.' And he adds—'But there are
few
who know that the
principles
of optics, on which telescopes are formed, are to be found in
Euclid,
and in the antient geometricians; and that it is through want of reflection that this wonderful invention,
as well as many others,
have remained so long concealed in the majesty of Nature, as Pliny expresses it, till chance has drawn them out.'
THE RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS.
IT was a Florentine who found buried in a heap of dust, and in a rotten coffer belonging to the monastery of Saint Gal, the works of Quintilian; and, by this fortunate discovery, gave them to the Republic of Letters.
Papirius Masson found, in the house of a book-binder of Lyons, the works of Agobart. The mechanic was on the point of using the manuscripts to line the covers of his books.
Raimond Soranzo, a celebrated lawyer in the Papal Court at Avignon, about the middle of the fourteenth century, had in his possession the two books of Cicero on Glory. He made a present of them to Petrarch, who lent them to an aged and poor man of letters, formerly his preceptor. Urged by extreme poverty, the old man pawned them; and, returning home, died suddenly, without having revealed where he had left them: since which time they have never been recovered.
Leonard Aretin was one of the most distinguished scholars at the dawn of literature; but he has done that which reflects on him great dishonour. He found a Greek manuscript of Procopius
de Bello Gothico.
This he translated into Latin, and published the work as his own. Since, however, other manuscripts of the same work have been discovered; and the fraud of Leonard Aretin is apparent.
Machiavel acted more adroitly in a similar case. A manuscript of the Apophthegms of the Ancients, by Plutarch, having fallen into his hands, he selected those which pleased him, and put them into the mouth of one of his heroes.
A page of the second Decade of Livy was found by a man of letters on the parchment of his battledore, as he was amusing himself in the country. He ran directly to the maker of the battledore: but arrived too late; the man had finished the last page of Livy, in compleating a large order for these articles about a week before.
Sir Robert Cotton, being one day at his tailor's, discovered that the man held in his hand, ready to be cut up for measures, the original Magna Charta, with all it's appendages of seals and signatures. He bought this singular curiosity for a trifle; and recovered, in this manner, what had long been given over for lost.—As this anecdote is entirely new to me, it may be proper to point out that it is taken from the Colomesiana, page 186.
Whether the Poems of Rowley be originals, adulterations, or the compositions of Chatterton, I do not venture to decide: this, however, is certain, that the finding them in the worm-eaten chest, in the antient church at Bristol, has a very
classical
appearance, and is undoubtedly in the nature of such discoveries. It is not probable—for he was, I believe, ignorant of the French language—that poor Chatterton, like me, had laboured through all the
Ana,
and caught the idea from their perusal.
We might be inclined to forgive a skilful
forgery
of the two books of Cicero on Glory: they must have been very important and curious; for no man was more enthusiastically fond of glory than this orator. Petrarch speaks of them with extasy; and informs us, that he studied them perpetually.
SKETCHES OF CRITICISM.
Yes, should Great Homer lift his aweful head,
Zoilus again would start up from the dead!
THE greatest authors of antiquity have smarted under the lash of Criticism. Chevrau has collected a great number of instances. Lest I should prove tedious, I only select a few.
It was given out, that Homer had stolen from Hesiod whatever was most remarkable in the Iliad and Odyssey. The Emperor Caligula suppressed the works of this great poet; and gave, for reason, that he certainly had as much right as Plato, who had so severely condemned him.
Sophocles was brought to trial by his children as a lunatic: and some, who blamed the inequalities of this poet, have also condemned the vanity of Pindar; the hard and rough verses of Aeschylus; and the manner in which Euripides conducted his plots.
Socrates, who has even been compared to Jesus Christ, as the wisest and the most moral of men, Cicero has treated as an usurer, and Athenaeus as an illiterate person. Mr. Cumberland, in one of his Observers, has industriously revived a calumny which most assuredly only took it's rise from the malignant buffoonery of Aristophanes; who, as Jortin says, was a great wit, but a great rascal. Should some future author draw his anecdotes from the writings of Foote, or of Peter Pindar, we know well that he might delineate a spirited character; but nothing, at the same time, would be more fictitious.
Plato, who has been called, by Clement of Alexandria, the Moses of Athens; the Philosopher of the Christians, by Arnobius; and the God of Philosophers, by Cicero; has undergone a variety of criticisms. Athenaeus accuses him of envy; Theopompus, of lying; Suidas, of avarice; Aulus Gellius, of robbery; Porphyry, of incontinence; and Aristophanes, of impiety.
Aristotle, who according to some writers has composed more than four hundred volumes, and who for his work on animals received from Alexander eight hundred talents, has not been less spared by the critics. Diogenes Laertius, Cicero, and Plutarch, have forgotten nothing that can tend to shew his ignorance, his ambition, and his vanity.
If the reader does not feel himself weary, he may read on.
Virgil is destitute of invention, if we are to give credit to Pliny, Carbilius, and Seneca. Caligula has absolutely denied him even mediocrity; Herennus has marked his faults; and Perilius Faustinus has furnished a thick volume with his plagiarisms. Even the author of his Apology has confessed, that he has stolen from Homer his greatest beauties.
Horace censures the coarse humour of Plautus; and Horace, in his turn, has been blamed for fiction and obscurity.
The majority of the critics regard Pliny's History only as a pleasing romance; and seem to have quite as little respect for Quintus Curtius.
Pliny cannot bear Diodorus and Vopiscus; and, in one comprehensive criticism, treats all the historians as narrators of fables.
Livy has been reproached for his aversion to the Gauls; Dion, for his hatred of the Republic; Velleius Paterculus, for speaking too kindly of the vices of Tiberius; and Herodotus and Plutarch, for their excessive partiality to their own country. Others have said of Cicero, that there is no connection, and, to adopt their own figure, no
blood
and
nerves,
in what his admirers so warmly extol. They say, he is cold in his extemporaneous effusions, too artificial in his exordiums, trifling in his strained witticisms, and tiresome in his digressions.
Quintilian does not spare Seneca; and Demosthenes, called by Cicero the Prince of Orators, has, according to Hermippus, more of art than of nature. To Demades, his orations appear too much laboured; others have thought him too dry; and, if we may trust Eschines, his language is by no means pure.
Should we proceed with this list to our own country, and our own times, it might be curiously augmented; but, perhaps, enough has been said, to soothe irritated genius, and to shame fastidious criticism. 'I would beg the critics to remember,' the Earl of Roscommon writes, in his Preface to his Version of Horace's Art of Poetry, 'that Horace owed his favour and his fortune to the character given of him by Virgil and Varius; that Fundanius and Pollio are still valued by what Horace says of them; and that, in their Golden Age, there was a good understanding among the ingenious, and those who were the most esteemed were the bestnatured.' I would hope, in spite of the daily cries we hear from disappointed writers, that those Journalists, whose style and sentiments render them respectable in the eyes of every man of letters, maintain with rigid integrity the fountains of criticism pure and incorrupt. They cannot be insensible that their volumes are not merely read, and then forgotten; but that they will remain as surviving witnesses, for or against them, from century to century.
Be thou the first true merit to befriend;
His praise is lost, who waits till ALL commend.
TARTARIAN LIBRARIES.
CARDINAL Perron, in the Perroniana, has the following curious article of intelligence: 'In that part of Tartary which belongs to the kingdom of Persia there exists a flourishing university, where the Arabs cultivate literature. Gioan Baptista Remondi, who was the first who caused books in the Arabic language to be printed in Europe, and who had even studied in this university, has pretended to say, that there were a number of Arabic books translated from many Greek authors who remain unknown to the Europeans. It was the Arabians who have preserved a book of Archimedes: with many authors who have written on mathematics; such as Apollonius Pergeaeus, and even Aristotle, Hippocrates, and Galen.'
To this account may be added that which Bell has given us in his Travels to Tartary. It is—'That in Siberia there exists an uncommon library, the rooms of which are filled with scrolls of glazed paper, fairly wrote, and many of them in gilt characters. The language in which they are written is that of the Tongusts, or Calmucs. Perhaps,' he adds, 'they may contain some valuable pieces of antiquity, particularly ancient history.'
At Mount Athos, Mr. Andrews, in his Anecdotes, informs us, 'That travellers agree there are several monasteries with libraries full of books, which are illegible to those holy brotherhoods, but whose contents are probably well worth inspection.'
Every captain, who can write his own logbook, has of late obtruded his discoveries of every ten yards of land he has happened to observe, and worked up into pathos his account of storms and short provisions. If they would, in their voyages, endeavour to bring some information, or some materials of this kind, to Europe, a new source of knowledge would be opened to our contemplation; many books, which are now lost, might probably be recovered; Science might be enlarged, and Amusement gratified.
THE BIBLIOMANIA.
SHOULD ever the idea thrown out in the last article be put into practice, the learned must be careful, in their zeal, of not becoming the dupes of the artful illiterate. The present anecdote may serve as a beacon.
The Bibliomania, or the collecting an enormous heap of books, has long been the rage with some who would fain pass themselves upon us for men of vast erudition. Some, indulging this luxury of literature, desirous of forming an immense and curious library, have scoured all Europe, and sent out travellers to the Indies to discover ancient books, or scarce manuscripts. This has occasioned many cheats and impositions. Towards the end of the last century, some ignorant or knavish men sent to Paris a number of Arabic manuscripts, in excellent condition and clear characters. They were received with all imaginable respect by the eager collectors of books; they were rapidly purchased at a high price: but, lo! when they were examined by the connoisseurs, these manuscripts, which were held so inestimable, were discovered to be books of accounts and registers, cleanly transcribed by certain Arabian merchants.—
Risum teneatis, Amici!
A similar imposition was practised on the great Peiresc. It was reported, that the Ethiopians were in possession of a book written by Enoch. Many literati in Europe had long ardently desired to inspect it, as they imagined it would contain many valuable secrets and unknown histories. Upon this, some impostor having got an Ethiopic book into his hands, he wrote for the title, '
The Prophecies and History of Enoch,
' upon the front page. M. Peiresc no sooner heard of it, than he purchased it of the impostor for a considerable sum of money. Being afterwards placed in Cardinal Mazarine's library, there Ludolf, famous for his skill in Ethiopic literature, had access to it; when, lo! this History of Enoch was discovered to be nothing more than a Gnostic Treatise upon the Mysteries of Heaven and Earth, but which did not mention one word concerning Enoch.
THE TURKS.
CHARPENTIER, in the Carpenteriana, says that the Turks, whom the vulgar literati regard as having neglected the sciences and literature in general, have many particular and general histories, from Osman, the first of their emperors, to the present. In the library of the King of France, there are a number of these historians. None have yet been translated, but the Annals of Leunclavius; which, however, are not very considerable. The library of the Great Turk forms a part of his treasures; and there are historians paid by him, who record, with care and accuracy, the actions and the conquests of their Princes.
There are colleges established at Constantinople, where the Alcoran, the Mathematics, and Rhetoric, are taught: but it is principally at Cairo where there are a multitude of scholars, who live by transcribing books; as once was practised in the university of Paris, where the scribes assembled, sometimes to the number of twenty or thirty thousand. The invention of the art of printing having deprived them of the means of subsistence, they have disappeared. It is to prevent the same inconvenience, that printing is prohibited throughout the Ottoman Empire.
When a Jew, who was a famous Dutch printer, brought to Constantinople printing-presses, &c. to introduce the art of printing in that city, the Vizir caused him to be hanged; declaring, that it would be a great cruelty that one man should enrich himself by taking the bread of eleven thousand scribes, who gained their living by their pen.
THE PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS.
WITH the ancients, it was undoubtedly a custom to place the portraits of Authors before their works. Martial will serve as a testimony in this case. The hundred and eighty-sixth Epigram of his fourteenth Book is a mere play on words, concerning a little volume which contained the works of Virgil, and which had his portrait prefixed to it. The volume and the characters must have been very diminutive. Antiquity records many such penmen, whose glory consisted in writing in so small a hand, that it was not legible to the naked eye. One wrote a verse of Homer on a grain of millet; and another, more trifling and indefatigable, transcribed the whole Iliad in so consined a space, that it could be inclosed in a nut shell. Menage says, that these things are not so improbable as they seem. This trifling art is not lost in modern times. He says, he has read whole sentences which were not perceptible to the eye without the assistance of the microscope. He has even seen
portraits
and
pictures
of the same kind; and, which seems wonderful, what appeared lines and scratches thrown down at random, were letters in capitals: and the lineaments of Madame la Dauphiné's face were preserved with the most pleasing delicacy, and with correctness of resemblance. He read also an Italian poem, in
praise
of this princess, which contained
some thousands
of verses; [I transcribe his words] It was written, by an officer, in a space of a foot and a half.
Martial is not the only writer who takes notice of the ancients prefixing their portraits to their works. Seneca, in his ninth chapter on the Tranquillity of the Soul, complains of many of the luxurious great, who—like so many of our own—possessed libraries as they do their estates and equipages. 'It is melancholy to observe,' he continues, 'how the portraits of men of genius, and the works of their divine intelligence, but serve as the luxury and the ornaments of their walls.'
Pliny has nearly the same observation.
Lib.
xxxv.
cap.
2. he remarks, that the custom was rather modern in his time; and attributes to Asinius Pollio the honour of having introduced it into Rome. 'In consecrating,' he says, 'a library with the portraits of our illustrious authors, you have formed, if I may so express myself, a republic of the intellectual powers of men.'
CRITICISM.
EARLY after the re-establishment of letters, (Huet writes) Criticism formed the chief occupation of those who applied themselves to their cultivation. This was very necessary, after so many ages of ignorance. They were obliged,
if we may so express ourselves, to disperse the dust, to efface the mouldy spots, and to kill the worms that gnawed and disfigured those manuscripts which had escaped the fury of the Barbarians, and the depredations of Time.
It was thus the art of criticism flourished in all it's vigour, and was distinguished by it's useful labours, during two centuries. The supreme degree of erudition, consisted in bringing to light the ancient authors in the correction of the errors of the scribes, through whose hands they had passed, either by collating them with the best copies, or exerting their own judgment and learning to the restoring of those passages which were evidently corrupt. At length, this avocation degenerated into a low and obscure study, the chief merit of which consisted in the recovery and collation of the best manuscripts. This was the employment of Gruter during his whole life. Those to whom these assistances failed, employed their critical acumen and literature to give the ancient writers in all their purity; but, not infrequently, they dismembered that which before was entire, and occasioned an infinity of labours to the critics, their successors, who were somewhat more judicious than themselves in restoring the passages to their original state, and in healing those wounds and unmerciful lacerations which they had undergone.
Amongst these latter critics, Casaubon, Salmasius, and Gronovius, hold distinguished rank.
Now that the best authors are no more scarce, but multiplied without end by the invention of printing, verbal criticism, the chief merit of which is to catch syllables, deserves no longer our esteem. Critics of this kind may, not unaptly, be compared to weeders; they eradicate the worthless plants, and leave to more skilful cultivators the art of gathering and distinguishing the more valuable ones.
ON THE PHRASE—'THE LAW AND THE PROPHETS.'
SAINT Jerome, and the other fathers of the church, call the Five Books of Moses,
The Law,
because of Deuteronomy; and the Books of the Prophets, or their Prophecics,
The Prophets.
All the other Books are called
Holy Writings.
Hence the phrase of, 'The Law and the Prophets,' is so frequently made use of in the New Testament, and in the writings of the fathers.
THE SIX FOLLIES OF SCIENCE.
NOTHING is so capable of disordering the intellects as an intense application to one of these six things: the Quadrature of the Circle; the Multiplication of the Cube; the Perpetual Motion; the Philosophical Stone; Magic; and Judicial Astrology. While we are young, we may exercise our imagination on these curious topics, merely to convince us of their impossibility; but it shews a great defect in judgment to be occupied on them in an advanced age. 'It is proper, however,' Fontenelle remarks, 'to apply one's self to these enquiries; because we find, as we proceed, many valuable discoveries of which we were before ignorant.' The same thought Cowley has applied, in an address to his mistress, thus—
Altho' I think thou never wilt be found,
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee:
The search itself rewards the pains.
So, tho' the chymist his great secret miss,
(For neither it in art nor nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
The same thought is in Donne. Perhaps Cowley did not suspect that he was an imitator. What is certain, Fontenelle could not have read either; and, perhaps, only struck out the thought by his own reflection.
THE REPUBLIC OF LETTERS.
IN the present article, I am little more than the translator of the lively and ingenious Vigneul Marville.
The Republic of Letters is of an ancient date. It appears by the pillars Josephus has noticed, on which were engraven the principles of the sciences, that this republic existed before the Deluge; at least, it cannot be denied that, soon after this great catastrophe, the sciences flourished.
Never was a republic greater, better peopled, more free, or more glorious: it is spread on the face of the earth, and is composed of persons of every nation, of every rank, of every age, and of both sexes. They are intimately acquainted with every language, the dead as well as the living. To the cultivation of letters they join that of the arts; and the mechanics are also permitted to occupy a place. But their religion cannot boast of uniformity; and their manners, like those of every other republic, form a mixture of good and of evil: they are sometimes enthusiastically pious, and sometimes insanely impious.
The politics of this state consist rather in words, in vague maxims and ingenious reflections, than in actions, or their effects. This people owe all their strength to the brilliancy of their eloquence, and the solidity of their arguments. Their trade is perfectly intellectual, and their riches very moderate; they live in one continued strife for glory and for immortality. Their dress is by no means splendid; yet they affect to despise those who labour through the impulse of avarice or necessity.
They are divided into many sects, and they seem to multiply every day. The state is shared between the Philosophers, the Physicians, the Divines, the Lawyers, the Historians, the Mathematicians, the Orators, the Grammarians, and the Poets, who have each their respective laws.
Justice is administered by the Critics, frequently, with more severity than justice. The people groan under the tyranny of these governors, particularly when they are capricious and visionary. They rescind, they erase, or add, at their will and pleasure, much in the manner of the Grand Monarque—
Car tel est notre plaisir
; and no author can answer for his fate, when once he is fairly in their hands. Some of these are so unfortunate, that, through the cruelty of the treatment they receive, they lose not only their temper, but their sense and wits.
Shame is the great castigation of the guilty; and to lose one's reputation, among this people, is to lose one's life. There exist, however, but too many impudent swindlers, who prey upon the property of others; and many a vile spunger, who snatches the bread from the hands of men of merit.
The Public are the distributors of glory; but, too often, the distribution is made with blindness, or undiscerning precipitation. It is this which causes loud complaints, and excites such murmurs throughout the republic.
The predominating vices of this state are presumption, vanity, pride, jealousy, and calumny. There is also a distemper peculiar to the inhabitants, which is denominated
hunger,
and which occasions frequent desolations throughout the country.
This republic, too, has the misfortune to be infected with numerous Plagiarists; a species of banditti who rifle the passengers. The corruptors of books, and the forgers, are not less formidable; nor do there want impostors, who form rhapsodies and bestow pompous titles on unimportant trifles, who levy heavy contributions on the public.
There are also found an infinite number of illustrious Idlers and Voluptuaries; who, only seeking for those volumes that afford amusement, draw all their subsistence from the state, without contributing any thing either to it's advantage or it's glory. There are also Misanthropes, born with an hatred of men: Pedants, who are the terror of schoolboys, and the enemies of urbanity and amiable manners.
I will not notice the licentious Geniuses of the republic, who are in an eternal hostility of sentiments, and a warfare of disputes; nor those fastidious minds, who are too delicate not to be offended every moment; nor those Visionaries, who load their imagination with crude and false systems.
All these may be supposed to exist in a republic so vast as that of Letters; where it is permitted to every one to reside, and to live according to his own inclinations.
ESDRAS.
IT was Esdras who wrote what is at the conclusion of the Books of Moses; which, as the death of the latter is there mentioned, shews he could not have been the author. He, also, at the return from the Babylonish captivity, arranged into one body the Scriptures; and many assure us, on the authority of the ancients, that he corrected it in eighteen passages which had been greatly altered and falsified. Is there not reason to fear that he still has left so much to correct, that the body of writings, which pass under the name of the Holy Scriptures, is little entitled to that sacred appellation? It's corruptions and errors are at least evident. Hobbes perfectly discredits Moses being the author of the Pentateuch, in his Leviathan. It appears that Moses delivered to Joshua some materials, which he deposited in the ark; that Joshua gave them to the Judges or Elders; and that, in the course of time, they took the arrangement in which they now appear.
To this article we may add, that it is well known to those who are most intelligent in Biblical literature, that a great number of books of the Old Testament are lost: some have affirmed, that we are deprived of
more
than we possess. It is agreed, that there are lost a book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Judah; the third Epistle to the Corinthians; and the third Epistle of Peter. Samuel wrote a book on the Office and Instruction of a King; Solomon compiled a work containing three thousand Parables, and five thousand and ninety Songs; and some Treatises on the Nature of Trees, Plants, and Herbs, from the Cedar to the Hyssop; which are also lost.
ARISTOTLE.
OF all men of letters who have appeared, perhaps there never was one on whom so much praise and so much censure have been lavished as on Aristotle: but he had this advantage, of which some of the most eminent scholars have been deprived, that he enjoyed during his life a splendid reputation. Philip of Macedon must have felt a strong conviction of his merit, when he wrote to him in these terms, on the occasion of the birth of Alexander. 'I receive from the gods, this day, a son; but I thank them not so much for the favour of his birth, as his having come into the world in a time when you can have the care of his education; and that, through you, he will be rendered worthy of being my son.'
GREGORY VII.
IT is a strong trait in the character of the piety of Pope Gregory the Seventh, that he caused the greater part of the most finished compositions of the ancients to be destroyed; doubtless, because the authors of them were Pagans. It was this Pope who burnt the works of Varro, the learned Roman, that St. Augustine should not be accused of plagiarism; for this saint owes to the labours of Varro his books of
The City of God.
CURIOUS SCHOLASTIC DISQUISITIONS.
AMONGST the subjects for the disquisitions of the learned, in the eleventh century, were the following ones: Of the Substantial Form of Sounds—Of the Essence of Universals.
The following question was a favourite topic; and, after having been discussed by thousands of the acutest logicians, through the course of a whole century,
With all the rash dexterity of wit,
remained unresolved—'When a hog is carried to market with a rope tied about it's neck, which is held at the other end by a man; whether is the hog carried to market by the
rope,
or by the
man?
'
TASTE.
IT is in vain to account for the operations of Taste: it is surely an unsubstantial form; a shadow, which may be seen, but not grasped. It's mutations, too, are wonderful. I am at a loss to account on what principles the present instance took place. Vigneul Marville supplies me with this anecdote—
Brebeuf, when he was young, felt an enthusiastic inclination for the works of Horace. His friend Gautier, on the contrary, was infected with a taste for Lucan. This preference frequently occasioned disputes. To terminate them, it was agreed that each of them should read the favourite poet of his friend; that they should examine with critical acumen, and decree with candour. The consequences are singular. Gautier read Horace, became enamoured of his verses, and never after quitted them: while Brebeuf was so charmed with Lucan, that he grew intoxicated with the Pharsalia; and, in translating this epic, out-lucan'd Lucan himself in his bombastic and tumid verses.
That Gautier should reject Lucan, after a studious perusal of Horace, is not surprizing: the wonder is, how Brebeuf could forget so suddenly the graces and the rules of his master, Horace, to give into Lucan's corrupted taste.
Mr. Burke, in his elegant Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, says, that 'what is called
Taste,
in it's most general acceptation, is not a simple idea, but is partly made up of a perception of the primary pleasures of sense; of the secondary pleasures of the imagination; and of the conclusions of the reasoning faculty concerning the various relations of these, and concerning the human passions, manners, and actions. All these are requisite to form Taste; and the ground-work of all these is the same in the human mind: for, as the senses are the great originals of all our ideas, and consequently of all our pleasures, if they are not uncertain and arbitrary, the whole groundwork of Taste is common to all; and, therefore, there is a sufficient foundation for a conclusive reasoning for these matters.'
In another place he observes—'
Sensibility
and
Judgment,
which are the qualities that compose what is commonly called a
Taste,
vary exceedingly in various people. From a defect in the former of these qualities arises a want of Taste: a weakness in the latter constitutes a wrong or a bad one.'
If this account is just, the sensibility and the judgment of Brebeuf, of which the one was so lively, and the other so vigorous, when in his youthful days he was attached to Horace, must have undergone a total change when he became studiously fond of Lucan. Yet this is not to be conceived: for it is possible to enlarge and to strengthen our judgment; but, surely, not to eradicate a correct one; at least, when a man is in the vigour of life and health.
IMITATORS.
THERE are some writers, and in general they will be found to be pedants, who imagine they can supply by the labours of industry the deficiencies of nature. It is recorded of Paulus Manutius, that he frequently spent a month in writing a single letter. He affected to imitate Cicero. The consequences are, that he has attained to something of the elegance of his style; but he is still destitute of the native graces of a flowing and unaffected composition.
May not such writers be said to create beautiful forms, without the power of bestowing on them animation?
Some are very proud in the imitation of their illustrious predecessors, but in general their abilities only reach to the imitation of their defects; as the courtiers of Alexander, who were incapable of imitating his heroism, could mimic his deformity.
CICERO.
'I SHOULD,' says Menage, 'have received a great pleasure to have conversed with Cicero, had I lived in his time. He must have been a man very agreeable in conversation, since even Caesar carefully collected his
Bon Mots.
Cicero has boasted of the great actions he has done for his country, because there is no vanity in exulting in the performance of our duties: but he has not boasted that he was the most eloquent orator of his age, though he certainly was; because nothing is more disgustful than to exult in our intellectual powers.'
I must confess myself no admirer of the witticisms of Cicero; for, in general, they are but meagre puns, such as these—he said to a Senator who was the son of a Taylor, '
Rem acu tetigisti.
' To the son of a Cook, '
Ego quoque tibi jure favebo.
'
SOCRATES.
THE following character of Socrates is to be found in the Matanasiana. It deserves to be snatched from that oblivion in which it lies sunk.
Socrates, whom the Oracle of Delphos had pronounced to be the wisest of men, inculcated this maxim, that
Science
alone was
Wealth,
and
Ignorance, Evil.
Born in the depth of obscurity, his genius broke out like a superior luminary amongst his fellow-citizens. He had as many disciples as he had auditors. Ever bold, yet moderate, chaste, patient, and amiable, his continual application to study had rendered every virtue familiar to him. Yet he was so modest, that he affirmed he knew nothing perfectly but one thing, which was—that he was very ignorant. Such was his consummate prudence, that he could predict future events. It was this deep foresight into human affairs which occasioned the Athenians to attribute a familiar demon to him who was careful to instruct him of the future. He entertained so sublime an idea of friendship, that, according to him, no inheritance was so precious as the possession of a friend. In a word, he was so enlightened, and so resolute, that he triumphed over his natural evil inclinations, and vanquished every opposition to virtue by his science and his fortitude. So deep a tranquillity had pervaded his soul, that the necessity of swallowing poison, by the edict of the tyrants, never disturbed his repose the evening before it was to take place.
PREFACES.
A PREFACE being the porch, or the entrance, to a book, should be perfectly beautiful. It is the elegance of a porch which announces the splendor of an edifice. I have observed, that ordinary readers skip over these little elaborate compositions. Our fair ladies consider them as so many pages lost, which might better be employed in the addition of a picturesque scene, or a tender letter to their novels. For my part, I always gather amusement from a Preface, be it aukwardly or skilfully written; for dulness, or impertinence, may raise a laugh for a page or two, though they become insufferable throughout a whole volume.
THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS.
FREQUENT and violent disputes have arisen on the subject of the preference which is to be given to the Ancients, or the Moderns. With the Battle of Books, by Swift, the reader is well acquainted. The controversy of Perrault and Boileau makes a considerable figure in French Literature; yet, surely, it had been better if these acrid controversies had never disgraced the Republic of Letters. The advice of Sidonius Appollinaris is excellent: he says, that we should read the Ancients with
respect,
and the Moderns without
envy.
MUTUAL PERSECUTION.
THE Pagans were accustomed to accuse the Christians of being the cause of the evils which affected the Roman Empire, as Origen remarks in his C. xxiv. on St. Matthew; St. Cyprian, in the commencement of his book
ad Demetrianum
; Tertullian, in his 40 C. of his Apology; and Arnobius, in his first book. When, in it's turn, Christianity became the prevailing religion, the Christians accused the Jews and the Pagans of drawing on the Empire the calamities which then happened.
FINE THOUGHTS.
APULEIUS calls those Neck-kerchiefs so glassy fine, (may I so express myself?) which, in veiling, discover the beautiful bosom of a woman,
ventum textilem
; which may be translated,
woven air.
It is an expression beautifully fanciful.
A Greek poet wrote this inscription for a statue of Niobe—
The Gods, from living, caused me to become stone. Praxiteles, from stone, has restored me to life.
Voiture has a fine thought in addressing Cardinal Richelieu. How much more affecting is it to hear one's praises from the mouth of the
People,
than from that of the
Poets!
Cervantes, with an elevation of sentiment, observes, that one of the greatest advantages which princes possess above other men, is that of being attended by servants, as great as themselves.
Buchanan has this charming thought in one of his Elegies, to express the cruelty of his mistress. It has the singular merit of being a trite subject, treated in an uncommon manner. 'She does nothing but practise cruelties when I am in her presence; yet, what tortures does she not feel when I am absent! But it is not the regret of my absence, nor the love she bears for me, which occasions her thus to suffer: No! it is because she has not the pleasure of beholding me suffering.'
Seneca, amongst many tortured sentiments and trivial points, has frequently a happy thought. This on
anger
is eminently so—'I wish,' he says, 'that the ferocity of this passion could be spent at it's first appearance, so that it might injure but
once:
as, in the case of the Bees, whose sting is destroyed for ever at the first puncture it occasions.'
Nor do these thoughts yield in felicity or fancy.
Aristenetus says of a Beauty, that she seemed most beautiful when
dressed
; yet appeared not less beautiful when
undressed.
Of
two
Beauties he says, 'they yielded to the Graces only in
number.
'
Menage has these two terse and pointed lines on the portrait of a lady—
Ce portrait ressemble à la Belle;
Il est insensible comme elle.
Which a friend has thus imitated—
In this portrait, my Fair, thy resemblance I see;
An insensible charmer it is—just like thee!
A French poet has admirably expressed the instantaneous sympathy of two lovers. A princess is relating to her
confidante
the birth of her passion; and says—
Et comme un jeune coeur est bientot enflammé,
Il me vit, il m'aima, je le vis, je l'aimai.
Which may be thus imitated in English; but the Alexandrine seems here to have the advantage over the Heroic verse—
Soon is the youthful heart by passion mov'd:
He saw, and lov'd me—him I saw, and lov'd.
I recollect a similar passage in a Spanish play of Calderon; but it partakes, I think, too much of what Boileau calls '
Le clinquant de Tasse:
' for it is well observed, by the same critic, 'that nothing is beautiful which is false.' The passage I allude to runs thus—
'I saw and I loved her so nearly together, that I do not know if I saw her before I loved her, or loved her before I saw her.'
It was said of Petronius, that he was
pura impuritas. Pura,
because of his style;
impuritas,
because of his obscenities.
Quam multa! Quam paucis!
is a fine expression, which was employed to characterise a concise style pregnant with meaning.
How exquisitely tender does Tasso, in one verse, describe his Olindo! So much love, and so much modesty, however beautiful they may appear in poetry, the less romantic taste of the modern fine lady may not probably admire—
Brama assai, poco spera, nulla chiede.
He desires much, he hopes little, he asks nothing.
Perrault has very poetically informed us, that the ancients were ignorant of the circulation of the blood—
—Ignoroit jusqu'aux routes certaines
Du meandre vivant qui coule dans les veines.
Unknown to them what devious course maintains
The living stream that flows along their veins.
An Italian poet makes a lover, who has survived his mistress, thus sweetly express himself—
Piango la sua morte ela mia vita.
Much I deplore her death, and much my life.
It has been usual for poets to say, that rivers flow to convey their tributary streams to the sea. This figure, being a mark of subjection, proved offensive to a patriotic Italian; and he has ingeniously said of the River
Po,
because of it's rapidity—
Pare
Che porti guerra, e non tributo al mare.
Which may be thus imitated—
See rapid
Po
to Ocean's empire bring
A
war,
and not a
tribute,
from his spring!
I would distinguish these pastoral verses for their elegant simplicity: they display—at least, in the original—that amiable, light, and artless style, which should characterise this enchanting, though neglected, branch of poetry—
Avec l'email de nos prairies,
Quand on le sçait bien faconner,
On peut aussi-bien couronner,
Qu'avec l'or et les pierreries.
The following version is but a feeble attempt to express them in our language—
Th' enamell'd flowers our meads disclose,
If the skill'd shepherd graceful frame,
A crown more precious can compose
Than the bright diamond's costlier flame.
Perhaps this translation, produced extempore by a literary friend, in which the original thought is almost literally preserved, and the structure of the verse scrupulously adhered to, is little less ingenious than the French; though alternate rhimes, in our language, will certainly be preferred by a correct English ear—
With flowers th' enamell'd meads unfold,
By skilful hands in chaplets bound.
As nobly may desert be crown'd,
As with rich gems, and burnish'd gold.
EARLY PRINTING.
WHEN first the Art of Printing was discovered, they only made use of one side of a page: they had not yet found out the expedient of impressing the other. When their editions were intended to be curious, they omitted to print the first letter of a chapter, for which they left a blank space, that it might be painted or illuminated, at the option of the purchaser. Several ancient volumes of these early times have been found, where these letters are wanting, as they neglected to have them painted.
When the Art of Printing was first established, it was the glory of the learned to be correctors of the press to the eminent printers. Physicians, Lawyers, and Bishops themselves, occupied this department. The printers then added frequently to their names those of the correctors of the press; and editions were then valued according to the abilities of the corrector.
PATRONS.
AUTHORS have too frequently received illtreatment even from those to whom they dedicated their works.
Theodosius Gaza had no other recompence for having inscribed to Sixtus the Fourth his Translation of the book of Aristotle on the Nature of Animals, than the price of the binding, which this charitable father of the church munificently bestowed upon him.
Theocritus fills his Idyllimus with loud complaints of the neglect of his Patrons; and Tasso was as little successful in his Dedications.
Ariosto, in presenting his Orlando Furioso to the Cardinal d'Este, was gratified with the bitter sarcasm of—'Where the devil have you found all this nonsense?'
When the French Historian, Dupleix, whose pen was indeed fertile, presented his book to the Duke d'Epernon, this Mecenas, turning to the Pope's Nuncio, who was present, very coarsely exclaimed—'Cadedis! ce Monsieur a un fluxe enragé, il chie un livre tous les lunes!'
It was Thomson, I believe, the amiable author of the Seasons, who, having extravagantly praised a person of rank, afterwards appearing to be undeserving of any eulogiums, very properly employed his pen in a solemn recantation of his error.
Poor Mickle, to whom we are indebted for so beautiful a version of Camoen's Lusiad, having dedicated this work, the continued labour of five years, to a certain Lord, had the mortification to find, by the discovery of a friend, that he had kept it in his possession three weeks before he could collect sufficient intellectual desire to cut open the first pages!
' Every man believes,' writes Dr. Johnson, in a letter to Baretti, 'that mistresses are unfaithful, and patrons are capricious. But he excepts his own mistress, and his own patron.'
THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE LEARNED.
IMPRISONMENT seems not much to have disturbed the man of letters in the progress of his studies.
It was in prison that Boethius composed his excellent book on the Consolations of Philosophy.
Grotius wrote, in his confinement, his Commentary on Saint Matthew.
Buchanan, in the dungeon of a monastery in Portugal, composed his excellent Paraphrases of the Psalms of David.
Pelisson, during five years confinement for some state affairs, pursued with ardour his studies in the Greek Language, in Philosophy, and particularly in Theology; and produced several good compositions.
Michael Cervantes composed the best and most agreeable book in the Spanish language during his captivity in Barbary.
Fleta, a well known and very excellent little law production, was written by a person confined in the Fleet prison for debt, but whose name has not been preserved.
Louis the Twelfth, when he was Duke of Orleans, being taken prisoner at the battle of St. Aubin, was long confined in the Tower of Bourges; and, applying himself to his studies, which he had hitherto neglected, he became in consequence an able and enlightened monarch.
Margaret, Queen of Henry the Fourth, King of France, confined in the Louvre, pursued very warmly the studies of elegant literature; and composed a very skilful Apology for the irregularities of her conduct.
Charles the First, during his cruel confinement at Holmsby, wrote that excellent book, entitled,
The Portrait of a King
; which he addressed to his son, and where the political reflections will be found not unworthy of Tacitus. This work has, however, been attributed, by his enemies, to a Dr. Gawden, who was incapable of writing a single paragraph of it.
Queen Elizabeth, while confined by her sister Mary, wrote some very charming poems, which we do not find she ever could equal after her enlargement: and Mary, Queen of Scots, during her long imprisonment by Elizabeth, produced many pleasing poetic compositions.
Sir Walter Ralegh—according to his own orthography—produced, in his confinement, his History of the World: of whom it is observed, to employ the language of Hume, 'they had leisure to reflect on the hardship, not to say the injustice, of his sentence. They pitied his active and enterprizing spirit, which languished in the rigours of confinement. They were struck with the extensive genius of the man who, being educated amidst naval and military enterprizes, had surpassed, in the pursuits of literature, even those of the most recluse and sedentary lives; and they admired his unbroken magnanimity which, at his age, and under his circumstances, could engage him to undertake and execute so great a work as his History of the World.'
THE POVERTY OF THE LEARNED.
FORTUNE has rarely condescended to be the companion of Merit. Even in these enlightened times, men of letters have lived in obscurity, while their reputation was widely spread; and have perished in poverty, while their works were enriching the booksellers.
Homer, poor and blind, resorted to the public places to recite his verses for a morsel of bread.
The facetious poet, Plautus, gained a livelihood by assisting a miller.
Xylander sold his Notes on Dion Cassius for a dinner.
Alde Manutius was so wretchedly poor, that the expence of removing his library from Venice to Rome made him insolvent.
To mention those who left nothing behind them to satisfy the undertaker, were an endless task.
Agrippa died in a workhouse; Cervantes is supposed to have died with hunger; Camoens was deprived of the necessaries of life, and is believed to have perished in the streets.
The great Tasso was reduced to such a dilemma, that he was obliged to borrow a crown from a friend, to subsist through the week. He alludes to his distress in a pretty Sonnet, which he addresses to his Cat, entreating her to assist him, during the night, with the lustre of her eyes—
Non avendo candele per iscrivere i suoi versi!
having no candle by which he could see to write his verses!
The illustrious Cardinal Bentivoglio, the ornament of Italy and of literature, languished, in his old age, in the most distressful poverty: and, having sold his palace to satisfy his creditors, left nothing behind him but his reputation.
Le Sage resided in a little cottage on the borders of Paris, and supplied the world with their most agreeable Romances; while he never knew what it was to possess any moderate degree of comfort in pecuniary matters.
De Ryer, a celebrated French Poet, was constrained to labour with rapidity, and to live in the cottage of an obscure village. His bookseller bought his Heroic Verses for one hundred sols the hundred lines, and the smaller ones for fifty sols.
Dryden, for less than three hundred pounds, sold Tonson ten thousand verses, as may be seen by the agreement which has been published.
Purchas, who, in the reign of our First James, had spent his life in travels and study to form his
Relation of the World
; when he gave it to the public, for the reward of his labours, was thrown into prison, at the suit of his printer. Yet this was the book which, he informs us in his Dedication to Charles the First, his father read every night with great profit and satisfaction.
Savage, in the pressing hour of distress, sold that eccentric poem,
The Wanderer,
which had occupied him several years, for ten pounds.
Even our great Milton, as every one knows, sold his immortal work for ten pounds to a bookseller, being too poor to undertake the printing it on his own account: and Otway, a dramatic poet in the first class, is known to have perished with hunger.
Samuel Boyce, whose Poem on Creation ranks high in the scale of poetic excellence, was absolutely famished to death; and was found dead, in a garret, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, and fastened by a skewer, with a pen in his hand!
Chatterton, while he supplied a variety of monthly magazines with their chief materials, found 'a penny tart a luxury!' and a luxury it was, to him who could not always get bread to his water.
In a book, entitled,
De Infortunio Litteratorum,
may be found many other examples of the miseries of literary men.
THE DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS.
IT is remarkable that conquerors, in the moment of victory, or in the unsparing devastation of their rage, have not been satisfied with destroying
men,
but have even carried their vengeance to
books.
The Romans burnt the books of the Jews, of the Christians, and the Philosophers; the Jews burnt the books of the Christians and the Pagans; and the Christians burnt the books of the Pagans and the Jews.
The greater part of the books of Origen, and the other Heretics, were continually burnt by the Orthodox party.
Cardinal Ximenes, at the taking of Grenada, condemned to the flames five thousand Alcorans.
The Puritans burnt every thing they found which bore the vestige of Popish origin. We have on record many curious accounts of their holy depredations, of their maiming images, and erasing pictures. Cromwell zealously set fire to the library at Oxford, which was the most curious in Europe.
The most violent persecution which ever the Republic of Letters has undergone, is that of the Caliph Omar. After having it proclaimed throughout the kingdom, that the Alcoran contained every thing which was useful to believe and to know, he caused to be gathered together whatever books could be found in his wide realms, and distributed them to the owners of the baths, to be used in heating their stoves; and it is said that they employed no other materials for this purpose during a period of six months!
At the death of the learned Peiresc, a chamber in his house, filled with letters from the most eminent scholars of the age, was discovered. Such was the disposition of his niece, who inherited his estates, that, although repeatedly entreated to permit them to be published, she preferred employing them to other purposes; and it was her singular pleasure to regale herself occasionally with burning these learned epistles, to save the expence of fireing!
Even the civilization of the eighteenth century could not preserve from the savage and destructive fury of a disorderly mob, in the most polished city of Europe, the valuable papers of the Earl of Mansfield, which were madly consigned to the flames during the disgraceful riots of June 1780.
DESCARTES AND HARVEY.
VIGNEUL Marville, in his Melanges de Literature, Vol. II. page 348, has ventured to publish two anecdotes, which, most probably, are derived only from his own inventive talent; a talent which no man carried to greater perfection than this lively and bold writer.
' One Claudian Mamert, who flourished in the fifth century, has composed a Treatise on the Soul; in which are found the greater part of those principles which Descartes made use of to establish his new system. It is also said, that his opinion concerning the Souls of Brutes is to be found in St. Augustine.'
' It is said, that the religious of St. Vanne's have discovered, in St. Ambrose, the doctrine of the Circulation of the Blood, which has been thought to be a modern discovery by Harvey.'
I am fearful this anecdote was dictated in the uncharitable spirit of criticism; perhaps, to deprive our great Physician of the honour of it's discovery.
LEGENDS.
THE origin of so many fables and intolerable absurdities, which have been entitled
Legends,
arises from this circumstance—
Before any colleges were established in the monasteries where the schools were held, the professors in rhetoric frequently gave their scholars the life of some saint for a trial of their talent at
amplification.
The students, being constantly at a loss to furnish out their pages, invented these wonderful adventures. The good fathers of that age, whose simplicity was not inferior to their devotion, were so delighted with these flowers of rhetoric, that they were induced to make a collection of these miraculous compositions; not imagining that, at some distant period of time, they would become matters of faith. Yet, when James de Voraigne, (Vicar-general of the Jacobins) Peter Nadal, and Peter Ribadeneira, wrote the Lives of the Saints, they sought for their materials in the libraries of the monasteries; and, awakening from the dust these manuscripts of amplification, imagined they made an invaluable present to the world by laying before them these bulky absurdities. The people received them with all imaginable simplicity, and, in the last century, it was dangerous for a man to dare even to suspect the reality of these pious fictions. We are indebted to Tillemont, to Fleury, Baillet, Launoi, and Bollandus, for having cleared much of this rubbish; and, rejecting what was false, by an enlightened criticism, have made that probable, which before was doubtful.
' What has been called
The Golden Legend,
which is the compilation of the above Voraigne' observes Patin, 'is a book replete with the most ridiculous and silly histories imaginable'. Melchior Canus, who was a learned Dominican, greatly disapproves of this legend; and had said, that 'it is a narrative at once unworthy of the Saints, and every honest Christian. I do not know why it should be called
golden,
composed as it is by a man who had a mouth of
iron,
and a heart of
lead.
'
It will, probably, be agreeable to the reader, to inspect a specimen of these legends. To gratify his curiosity, I have selected the following; and, that he may not complain of the tedious length of this article, it shall not be given to him in the heavy style of James de Voraigne, or of myself, but embellished by the luminous diction of Mr. Gibbon—
' Among the insipid legends of Ecclesiastical History, I am tempted to distinguish the memorable fable of
The Seven Sleepers
; whose imaginary date corresponds with the reign of the younger Theodosius, and the conquest of Africa by the Vandals. When the Emperor Decius persecuted the Christians, seven noble youths of Ephesus concealed themselves in a spacious cavern, on the side of an adjacent mountain; where they were doomed to perish by the tyrant, who gave orders that the entrance should be firmly secured with a pile of stones. They immediately fell into a deep slumber, which was miraculously prolonged, without injuring the powers of life, during a period of one hundred and eighty-seven years. At the end of that time, the slaves of Adolius, to whom the inheritance of the mountain had descended, removed the stones, to supply materials for some rustic edifice. The light of the sun darted into the cavern, and the Seven Sleepers were permitted to awake. After a slumber, as they thought, of a few hours, they were pressed by the calls of hunger; and resolved that Jamblichus, one of their number, should secretly return to the city, to purchase bread for the use of his companions. The youth—if we may still employ that appellation—could no longer recognize the once familiar aspect of his native country; and his surprize was increased by the appearance of a large cross, triumphantly erected over the principal gate of Ephesus. His singular dress and obsolete language confounded the baker, to whom he offered an ancient medal of Decius, as the current coin of the empire; and Jamblichus, on the suspicion of a secret treasure, was dragged before the judge. Their mutual enquiries produced the amazing discovery, that two centuries were almost elapsed since Jamblichus and his friends had escaped from the rage of a Pagan tyrant. The Bishop of Ephesus, the Clergy, the Magistrates, the people, and, it is said, the Emperor Theodosius himself, hastened to visit the cavern of the Seven Sleepers; who bestowed their benediction, related their story, and at the same instant peaceably expired.
' This popular tale,' Mr. Gibbon adds, 'Mahomet learned when he drove his camels to the fairs of Syria; and he has introduced it, as a
divine revelation,
into the Koran.'—The same story has been adopted and adorned by the nations, from Bengal to Africa, who profess the Mahometan religion.
ON THE FAIR-SEX HAVING NO SOULS.
A SPANISH author has affirmed, that
brutes
have no souls; a French writer supports the same opinion; but an Italian, more bold, has ventured to maintain that the
fair-sex
have likewise no souls, and are of another species of animal to man. This the author shews by various proofs drawn from the Scriptures, which he explains according to his own fancy. While this book was published in Latin, the Inquisition remained silent but, when it was translated into the vulgar tongue, they censured and prohibited it. The Italian ladies were divided, on this occasion, into two opposite parties: the one was greatly enraged to be made so inferior to the other sex; and the other, considering themselves only as
machines,
were content to amuse themselves in playing off the springs in the manner most agreeable to themselves.
The Author of the Commentary on the Epistles of St. Paul, falsely ascribed to St. Ambrose, says, on the eleventh chapter of the first Epistle to the Corinthians, that
women
are not made according to the image of the Creator.
The Mahometans are known to hold the same opinions concerning the souls of the female sex, and likewise the Jews. Very ungallantly, each Jew, among his morning benedictions, includes one,
to thank God he has not made him a woman.
I must confess, it is a difficult task to resolve if—
This Novelty on earth, this fair defect
Of Nature—
MILTON.
are deprived of souls:
For 'tis in vain to think to guess
At Women by
appearances
;
That paint and patch their imperfections
Of intellectual complexions;
And daub their tempers o'er with washes,
As artificial as their faces.
HUDIBRAS.
Let us, however, conclude that, if they are not themselves in possession of a
soul,
they not infrequently seem to infuse one into the most unanimated of men. It is their white hand that distributes with peculiar grace the laurels of the Poet and the Hero. Through all classes of mankind their power is alike displayed: the smiles of his
Nancy
animate the
Sailor
and the
Soldier,
as well as those of
Laura
and
Geraldine
the
Bard
and the
Hero:
and, to finish by another quotation, let us acknowledge, then, that when our Sire
Wander'd in the solitary shade,
The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd
WOMAN, the last, the best reserve of God!
POPE.
POETS, PHILOSOPHERS, AND ARTISTS, MADE BY ACCIDENT.
ACCIDENT has frequently occasioned the most eminent geniuses to display their powers. Father Mallebranche will serve for an example. Having compleated his studies in Philosophy and Theology, without any other intention than devoting himself to some religious order, he little expected to become of such celebrity as his works have made him. Loitering, in an idle hour, in the shop of a bookseller, in turning over a parcel of books,
L'Homme de Descartes
fell into his hands. Having dipt into some parts, he was induced to peruse the whole. It was this circumstance that produced those profound contemplations which gave birth, to so many beautiful compositions in Physics, Metaphysics, and Morality, which have made him pass for the Plato of his age.
Cowley became a Poet by accident. In his mother's apartment he found, when very young, Spenser's Fairy Queen; and, by a continual study of Poetry, he became so enchanted of the Muse, that he grew irrecoverably a Poet.
Dr. Johnson informs, us, that 'the great Painter of the present age had the first fondness for his art excited by the perusal of Richardson's Treatise.'
PHYSICIANS WRITE LITTLE ON PROFESSIONAL SUBJECTS.
IT is remarkable that, of all men of letters who attach themselves to any profession, none so willingly quit their occupations to write on other matters as Physicians.
Julius Scaliger, who was a Doctor in Physic, has written much Criticism.
Viguier has compiled several bulky volumes of Natural History.
Averroes, the Arabian Physician, has translated and commented on Aristotle.
Ficinnius has given a Latin version of Plato, and explained his system.
The great Cardan has written on a variety of subjects, all very foreign to the studies of Medicine.
Paul Jovius has composed numerous Histories.
Sorbiere, a Physician well known in France, has translated the Utopia of our Sir Thomas More, and other very curious works.
Spons, a Physician at Lyons, has written his Voyages, and some Treatises, which display a great depth of erudition.
The two Patins have written nothing concerning Medicine, but much in Polite Literature.
Perrault, the antagonist of Boileau, translated Vitruvius, and gave public Lectures on Geometry and Architecture.
Dr. Smollet had more frequently his pen, than the pulse of a patient, in his hand.
Akenside and Armstrong are celebrated for their Poetry; and the late Dr. Gregory, of Edinburgh, has published several pleasing compositions in prose.
Dr. Moore and Dr. Berkenhout are living authors, whose pens have written—if I may say it without offence—what is more valuable than their prescriptions.
Why Physicians write so little on professional subjects, is a question I know not how to resolve, unless we suppose that, as they are most conversant in the art of Medicine, they more clearly perceive it's futility.
AMUSEMENTS OF MEN OF LETTERS.
MEN of letters, for a relaxation from literary fatigue—a fatigue which is more unsufferable than that which proceeds from the labours of the mechanic—form amusements, sometimes, according to their professional character; but, more frequently, according to their whim.
Tycho Brahe diverted himself with polishing glasses for all kinds of spectacles, and making mathematical instruments.
D'Andilly, the Translator of Josephus, one of the most learned men of his age, cultivated trees; Barclay, in his leisure hours, was a florist; Balzac amused himself with making pastils; Peiresc found his amusement amongst his medals and antiquarian curiosities; the Abbé de Maroles with his engravings; and Politian in singing airs to his lute.
Rohault wandered from shop to shop, to observe the mechanics labour.
The great Arnauld read, in his hours of relaxation, any amusing romance that fell into his hands. This also did the critical Warburton.
Galileo read Ariosto; and Christina, Queen of Sweden, Martial.
Guy Patin wrote letters to his friends: an usual relaxation amongst men of letters, and very agreeable to their correspondents, when they are worth the postage.
Others have found amusement in composing treatises on odd subjects. Seneca wrote a Burlesque Narrative on Claudian's Death. Pierrius has written an Eulogium on Beards.
Virgil sported prettily with a gnat; Homer with frogs and mice.
Holstein has written an Eulogium on the North Wind; Heinsius, on the Ass; Menage, the Transmigration of the Parasitical Pedant to a Parrot; and also the Petition of the Dictionaries.
Erasmus has composed—I think it was to amuse himself when travelling in a postchaise—his Panegyric on Morus, or Folly; which, authorized by the pun, he dedicated to Sir Thomas More.
Montaigne found a very agreeable play-mate in his cat.
Cardinal de Richelieu, amongst all his great occupations, found a recreation in violent exercises; and he was once discovered jumping with his servant, to try who could reach the highest side of a wall. De Crammont, observing the Cardinal to be jealous of his powers in this respect, offered to jump with him; and, in the true spirit of a courtier, having made some efforts which nearly reached the Cardinal's, confessed he was surpassed by him. This was jumping like a politician; and it was by this means, it is said, he ingratiated himself with the minister.
Dr. Campbell was alike fond of robust exercise; and the scholar has been found leaping over tables and chairs.
What ridiculous amusements passed between Dean Swift and his friends in Ireland, his discerning Editors have kindly revealed to the public. We are astonished to see a great mind suffering itself to be levelled to trifles which even our very Magazines consider as disgraceful to
their
pages!
The life of Shenstone was passed in an amusement which was to him an eternal source of disappointment and anguish. His favourite
ferme ornée,
while it displayed all the taste and elegancies of the poet, displayed also his characteristic poverty. His feeling mind was often pained by those invidious comparisons which the vulgar were perpetually making with the stately scenes of Hagley's neighbouring magnificence.
If Dr. Johnson suffered his great mind to descend into trivial amusement, it was—to borrow the image of a friend—like the elephant, who sometimes gives a shock to armies, and sometimes permits himself to be led by a naked infant.
THE BELLES LETTRES.
IT seems to be the fate of the Belles Lettres, an ingenious French writer observes, that they break out in all their splendour during some ages, and then are again doomed to decline into total neglect.
Athens long preserved a correct taste in Eloquence, in Philosophy, and in Poetry. At the same time, the Fine Arts flourished in all their beauty; but a frightful barbarism soon succeeded the refinement and the science of this ingenious nation.
The Romans, having vanquished the Greeks, awakened the Muses from their lethargy; and the Augustan Age was for Italy what that of Pisistratus had been for Greece. The decline of that empire soon occasioned that of the Belles Lettres; and the invasions of those people who dismembered the Roman Empire threw all again into barbarism and ignorance. Charlemagne attempted to revive the sciences: he rewarded the learned; and he established schools in the principal cities of the Empire. It was his command, that a number of volumes should be transcribed, to be dispersed throughout the kingdom.
Our illustrious Alfred began the same reformation in England. Engaged as he was in one continued war with the Danes, nothing could disturb the designs he had formed for the restoration of letters. He laments the ignorance of the times with all the indignation of the philosopher, and the resentment of a patriot prince.
The attempts of these great monarchs availed little: the clash of arms taught a melancholy silence to the Muses. Since those times, as the monarchical government became more firmly established, the Belles Lettres insensibly revived.
But it was chiefly under the pontificate of Leo the Tenth, that munificent patron of literature, that they sprung up in all their richest luxuriance. Assisted by the art of printing, which had been discovered some time before, they made those immense progresses, and formed those heroes of literature, which so forcibly claim our warmest admiration.
ON TEACHING THE CLASSICS.
THOSE, says Marville, who undertake the instruction of youth, and who read the ancients with their scholars, should point out to their observation the characteristic
trait
of each of these authors. This manner of teaching might inspire them to emulate these perfect models of composition.
Xenophon, for instance, and Quintilian, are excellent to form the education of young scholars.
Plato will fill the mind with great notions, and elevate them into a contemplation of the sublimest metaphysics.
Aristotle will instruct them acutely to analyse the principle of composition, and to decide on the beauties of the works of imagination.
Cicero will shew them how to speak and to write with grace: Seneca, to philosophise.
The Elder Pliny opens the mind to a great diversity of knowledge. Aesop and Phaedrus, in an amusive way, will form their manners.
Epictetus, and the Emperor Antoninus, will afford them advice and counsels in every station of human life.
Plutarch offers the noblest examples of antiquity, and furnishes excellent matter for attic conversations.
Homer displays man in every possible situation, and paints him always great.
Virgil inculcates piety towards the gods, and filial tenderness towards our parents.
In Sallust, the portraits of the great may be contemplated; in Plautus and Terence, those of individuals; in Horace, and the Younger Pliny, the delicate eulogiums which may be administered to kings.
But, before these great models are offered to the study of our youth, as they claim a maturity of judgment, let them first be initiated by some elementary works.
ERRATA.
BESIDES the ordinary errors, or
errata,
which happen in printing a work, there are others which are purposely committed, that the
errata
may contain what is not permitted to appear in the body of the work.
Thus, for instance, wherever the Inquisition has any power, particularly at Rome, observes Menage, it is not allowed to employ the word
fatum,
or
fata,
in any book.
An author, desirous of using the latter word, adroitly invented this scheme: he had printed in his book
facta
; and, in the
errata,
he put, for
facta,
read
fata.
A gentleman did nearly the same thing, but on another occasion. He had composed some verses, at the head of which he had placed this dedication—
A Guillemette, Chienne de ma Soeur
; but, having a quarrel with his sister, he maliciously put into the
errata,
instead of
Chienne de ma Soeur,
read
ma Chienne de Soeur.
In a book, there was printed
le docte Morel.
A wag put into the
errata,
for
le docte Morel.
read
le docteur Morel.
This
Morel
was certainly not the first
docteur
who was not
docte.
SAMUEL PURCHAS.
SAMUEL Purchas, of whom mention has been made in a former article, has composed what he calls '
A Relation of the World, and the Religions obserued in all Ages, and Places discouered from the Creation vnto this Present.
' The title-page is very curious, and very long; but, through a mutilation in my copy, I cannot gratify the reader with the whole. The work is written according to the taste of our Royal Pedant: the graces of diction consist in a play upon words—
Jests for Dutchmen and English boys.
COWLEY.
The author, on the most serious subjects, indulges his facetious humour: he finds amplification in metaphysical quibbles, and irresistible arguments in puns. It will be necessary to give some instances: and it may not be unpleasing to extract a few sentences, which must have greatly delighted our First James—
' Being I know not by what naturall inclination, addicted to the studie of Historie, I resolved to turn the
pleasures
of my
studies
into
studious paines,
that others might again, by
delightfull studie,
turn
my paines
into
their pleasures.
'—'I here bring Religion from
Paradise
to the
Ark,
and thence follow her round the
world.
'
The following Apology of the Author is curious and ingenious. It should be recollected, that one part of it's merit consists in it's being prefixed to a Treatise on Geography—
' If any mislike the
fulnesse
in some places, and the
barrennesse
of words in others, let them consider, we handle a world where are
mountains
and
vallies, fertile
habitations, and
sandy
deserts; and others
steps,
whom I follow, hold me sometimes in a
narrower
way, which elsewhere take more libertie.'
In addressing the Clergy, Purchas thus plays off an argument in a pun, which may raise a smile—
' I subscribe, with hand and practice, to your
Liturgie,
but not to your
Letargie.
'
The fourth edition of this System of Geography—a stupendous labour for those times, and which, with Hackluyt's Voyages, gave birth to the numerous ones we now possess—is dedicated to King Charles the First. From this dedication the present extracts may amuse—
' Your Majesties goodnesse hath inuited this boldnes, in accepting my late voluminous twinnes of pilgrimes,'—he means, his former two volumes. 'Your pietie demands
hereditarie
respect. Your royall father,
the King of Learned,
and
Learning's King,
manifested so much favour to this work, as to make it
ordinarie
of his bed-chamber. He professed freely, that he had read it
seven times
; and that he had made the
pilgrimes
his nightly taske, till God called him by fatall sicknesse to
a better pilgrimage,
and of a more enduring kingdome. Such a testimonie is a
king
of
testimonies.
Although these times seem more to
savour
of armes than to
favour
arts, (
inter arma silent Musae
) yet our Muse is not of the softer sock, but more masculine, an armed
Pallas
; not bred in poeticall misterie, but
born
a real historie, containing
actions, factions,
and
fractions,
of religions and states.,
He concludes with this curious wish—'May King James be
succeeded,
and
exceeded,
in the
greatnesse
and vertues of
Great
Britein's
Great
Charles! Amen.'
Such was the incense which, administered to adulated Majesty, was probably found not unpleasing.
ON THE NOTES VARIORUM.
THE
Notes Variorum
were, originally, but a compilation of notes drawn from those numerous critics who had laboured on the best authors, or had explained them in other works. The first collections were very indifferent, their selectors possessing no powers of discrimination. Frequently, they have chosen the worst: they bring no proofs from the authors whom they have abridged; and they are continually maiming their ideas. To make their collections bulky, they have written as much on the clear as on the obscure passages, and have swelled them with very frivolous digressions.
The later editions of the
Notes Variorum
have been made by more able compilers. As they are so much the more preferable to the preceding ones, the public has received them with favour; and scholars have been glad to have compleat collections of the most valued criticisms, to consult them at their need.
ON THE EDITIONS OF THE CLASSICS, IN USUM DELPHINI.
THE Scholiasts, or the Interpreters of the Dauphin,
in usum Serenissimi Delphini,
were undertaken under the conduct of Messieurs De Montausier, Bossuet, and Huet. To a correct text, they have added a clear and concise paraphrase of the text, with notes. The dissimilarity of the genius, and the peculiar characters, of all these authors, have been one great cause that they have not all been treated with the same ability, and with equal felicity: but still, it must be allowed, they form the most beautiful body in literature that the public has ever been gratified with.
Another critic presents us with a more satisfactory account of this celebrated edition of the Classics. The greater part of these interpreters have but indifferently executed their employment: they have followed, in their text, the inferiour editions, instead of making use of the best; and they have left in the notes those same faults which were so much censured in the Dutch editions, with the Notes Variorum. There is, however, one thing valuable in the Paris editions—a Verbal Index, by which any passage may be found on recollecting a few words. However, it must be confessed, the munificent patronage of a great monarch has not produced the adequate effects. The project was excellent, but the performance was bad.
I cannot conclude this article without observing what benefits the student derives from
Verbal Indexes.
He not only saves a great expence of time, which is squandered in the examination for passages; but he may more easily trace the imitations of others, when they happen to catch the words of the original. I have received such services from Newton's edition of Milton, which is enriched with a Verbal Index, that I cannot recollect them without gratitude. If a Verbal Index was formed to Johnson's edition of the Poets, it would
then
become invaluable; and I am sure there are
porters
enough in literature,
unemployed,
who desire nothing better than to bear this burthen on their shoulders
THE ORIGIN OF LITERARY JOURNALS.
IF we abound with a multitude of
scribblers,
what an infinite number must there be of
critics,
since, according to the computation of one of the first—
Ten
censure wrong, for
one
who writes amiss!
In the last century, it was a consolation, at least, for the unsuccessful writer, that he fell insensibly into oblivion. If he committed the
private
folly of printing what no one would purchase, he had only to settle the matter with his publisher: he was not arraigned at the
public
tribunal, as if he had committed a crime of magnitude. But, in those times, the nation was little addicted to the cultivation of letters: the writers were then few, and the readers were not many. When, at length, a taste for literature spread itself through the body of the people, vanity induced the inexperienced and the ignorant to aspire to literary honours. To oppose these inroads into the haunts of the Muses, Periodical Criticism brandished it's formidable weapon; and it was by the fall of others that our greatest geniuses have been taught to rise. Multifarious writings produced multifarious strictures; and if the rays of criticism were not always of the strongest kind, yet so many continually issuing, formed a focus, which has enlightened those whose occupations had otherwise never permitted them to judge on literary compositions.
The origin of so many Literary Journals takes it's birth in France. Denis de Sallo, Ecclesiastical Counsellor in the Parliament of Paris, invented the scheme of a work of this kind. On the 30th of May 1665, appeared the first number of his
Journal des Sçavans.
' What is remarkable, he published his Essay in the name of the Sieur de Hédouville, who was his
footman.
One is led to suppose, by this circumstance, that he entertained but a faint hope of it's success; or, perhaps, he thought that the scurrility of criticism might be sanctioned by it's supposed author. The work, however, met with so favourable a reception, that Sallo had the satisfaction of seeing it, in the next year, imitated throughout Europe; and his Journal, at the same time, translated into various languages. But, as most authors lay themselves too open to the severe critic, the animadversions of Sallo were given with such malignity of wit and asperity of criticism, that the Journal excited loud murmurs, and the most heart-moving complaints possible. Sallo, after having published only his third Journal, felt the irritated wasps of literature thronging so thick about him, that he very gladly abdicated the throne of Criticism.
The reign of his successor, Abbé Galloys—intimidated by the fate of Sallo—was of a milder kind. He contented himself with only giving the titles of books, accompanied with extracts. Such a conduct was not offensive to their authors, and yet was not unuseful to the public. I do not, however, mean to favour the idea, that this simple manner of noticing books is equal to sound and candid criticism.
On the model of the
Journal des Sçavans
were formed our
Philosophical Transactions
; with this difference, however, that they only notice objects of science, such as Physics and Mathematics The Journal of Leipsic, entitled
Acta Eruditorum,
appeared in 1682, under the conduct of the erudite
Menkenius,
Professor in the University of that city. The famous
Bayle
undertook, for Holland, a similar work, in 1684; and his
Nouvelles de la Republique de Lettres
appeared the first of May in that year. This new Journal was every where well received; and deserved to be so, for never were criticisms given with greater force. He possessed the art of comprizing, in short extracts, the justest notion of a book, without adding any thing irrelevant or impertinent. Bayle discontinued this work in 1687, after having given thirty-six volumes in 12mo. Others continued it to 1710, when it was finally closed.
A Mr. de la Roche formed an English Journal, entitled
Memoirs of Literature,
about the commencement of this century, which is well spoken of in the Bibliotheque Raisonnée. It was afterwards continued by Mr. Reid, under the title of
The Present State of the Republic of Letters.
He succeeded very well; but, being obliged to make a voyage to China, it interrupted his useful labours. He was succeeded by Messieurs Campbell and Webster; but the last, for reasons of which I am ignorant, being dismissed, it was again resumed by Mr. Campbell. This
Journal
does by no means rival our modern
Reviews.
I do not perceive that the criticism is more valuable; and certainly the entertainment is inferior. Our elder Journals seem only to notice a few of the best publications; and this not with great animation of sentiment, or elegance of diction.
Of our modern Journals it becomes me to speak with caution. It is not treading on
ashes
still glowing with latent fire, as Horace expresses it, but it is rushing through consuming
flames.
Let it be sufficient, that from their pages I acknowledge to have acquired a rich fund of critical observation; and, if I have been animated by their eulogiums, I ascribe this honour, not so much to the confined abilities Nature has bestowed on me, as to their strictures, which have taught me something of the delicacy of Taste, and something of the ardour of Genius.
GUY PATIN.
GUY PATIN was an author who made much noise in his time: but, like many others of this kind, Posterity, more temperate, as less interested in the scandal of the day, will not allow pertness to be
wit,
and multifarious anecdote,
learning.
We, as Englishmen, must peculiarly feel our indignation kindle at the strictures which I shall notice; and which, garbage as they are, have been hashed up by D'Argens, Voltaire, and many a French literary
Cuisinier.
The work, for which he gained so much unmerited applause, consists of three volumes of letters, which were written to his friends in a familiar style, replete with the anecdotes of the day—a kind of newspaper, rather than an epistolary correspondence; and, like a newspaper, since time has commented on it's text, it will be found that the greater part of these anecdotes is false and malicious. They were read, however, with great avidity: but this criticism of Menage will be found to be just—
' The Letters of Guy Patin are replete with falshoods. Mr. Bigot and I have detected some in every page. He was not careful in what he wrote, and he took every thing as it came.'
' These Letters,' says Voltaire, 'were read eagerly, because they contained anecdotes of such things as every body likes, and satires which are liked still more. They shew what uncertain guides in History those writers are, who inconsiderately set down the news of the day. Such accounts are frequently false, or perverted by the malice of mankind.'
Bayle, in criticising them, observes—'It is proper the Reader should know all the witty sayings and stories he relates are not true. There are some places, wherein he shews
a terrible malice,
and
a prodigious boldness,
in giving a criminal turn to every thing.'
This language is indeed forcible; it is certainly just. The Reader may judge by the extract I now make out of the Patiniana, Page 17. It was written when Salmasius finished his Defence of King Charles, which was so nervously answered by Milton.
' The book of Mr. Salmasius, written for the defence of the King of England, is now printing at Leyden, in French, and in Latin. This apology for a king, who has been beheaded by his people, is a delicate subject, and will not please every body. The
English,
who are the
worst,
the
most
cruel, and the
most
perfidious of people, pretend that they are countenanced by their Religion, and the political Law; but
Religio non fert Parricidas, Ecclesia nescit Sanguinem.
The most refined politics do not go so far as
to dare
to punish kings, like other malefactors, by the hand of the common hangman. The grandfather of this Monarch was strangled by the Puritans of Scotland. His grandmother, Mary Stuart, was beheaded in England, in the year 1587, by the command of Queen Elizabeth. I, who
naturally
hate the English, cannot but shudder with horror when I think of this nation.'
I shall say nothing on this extraordinary passage; but only remark that, though all this passed so near the times in which Patin lived, he has committed, in this short extract, a gross historical blunder.
It has been a custom to echo amongst the Gallic writers, that the English nation are of the race
—of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi—
The very executions of our malefactors at Tyburn have been urged as a proof. Hear Voltaire—
' There have been sanguinary times in all nations; but, amongst the
English,
more illustrious men have been brought to the block than
in all Europe
besides. It was the character of this nation to commit legal murders. The Gates of London have been infected with human heads fixed to the walls.'
D'Argens, in his Philosophical Visions, has given the character of the English nations, under the names of the Libertines, in the second Vision. The passage is too long to be quoted; but the power of his pencil seems not inferior to that of the lively Voltaire's, in drawing our Portrait with a vermilion hue. 'Monsters!' as Shakespeare says,
—whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders!—
He says, that a civil war is our delight, and the beheading a Monarch our amusement. This hardly deserves the name of Wit; it is certainly destitute of Truth. I have not infrequently thought, that these lively and facetious writers (for surely they did not mean to be
serious
) are ignorant of their own history; no improbable circumstance with those who probably have
written
nearly as many books as they have
read.
I maintain, that
France
has known more sanguinary periods than England; and that
more
of their Kings than of our own have come to an untimely end. Let us recollect the Assassinations of Henry the Third and Fourth; the Reigns of Henry the Second and Charles the Fourth; Louis the Thirteenth and Fourteenth; and let all the efforts of all the
Patins
produce a massacre in
England
so dreadful as that of St. Bartholomew in
France!
THE TALMUD AND GEMARA.
THE
Talmud
is a collection of Jewish Traditions, which had been orally preserved. It comprizes the
Mishna,
which is the text; and the
Gemara,
it's commentary. It is a compleat system of the barbarous learning of the Jews. They have persuaded themselves, that these traditional explications are of a Divine origin: for they tell us, that the Pentateuch was written out by their Legislator before his death; that the number of Copies was thirteen, one for each tribe, and the remaining one was deposited in the Ark. That the Oral Law, 'was what Moses continually taught, in his Sanhedrim, to the Elders, and the rest of the people;' the mode of which honest David Levi informs us was thus—
' As soon as
Moses
was returned to his tent from receiving the words of God, he called
Aaron
thither unto him, and first delivered unto him the
Text,
which was to be the Written Law; and after that, the interpretation of it, which was the
Oral Law,
in the same order as he received
both
from
God
in the Mount. Then Aaron arising, and seating himself at the right-hand of Moses, Eleazar, and Ithamar, his sons, went in the next; and being taught both these Laws at the feet of the Prophet, in the same manner as Aaron had been, they also arose and seated themselves; and then the Seventy Elders, who constituted the Sanhedrim, or Great Senate of the nation; and then entered all such of the people as were desirous of knowing the word of God.'
He then informs us that Moses, Aaron, his sons, and the Elders, made the same repetition before they withdrew—'So that the people having heard
both
these Laws repeated to them four times, they all had it thereby firmly fixed in their memories; but the interpretation thereof was to be delivered down,
only by word of mouth,
to the succeeding generations,' for which no reason is alledged.
It appears afterwards, that at the end of the 40th year of their flight from Egypt, the memory of the people became treacherous, and Moses was constrained to repeat, every now and then, this same
Oral Law
; which (if it is not profane to say) had been much better
written
as the Pentateuch was.
This history some may be inclined to suppose to be apocryphal. It appears that the Talmud was compiled by certain Jewish doctors, who were solicited for this purpose by their nation, that they might have something to oppose to their Christian adversaries. These doctors were descendants of the Ten Tribes of Israel, who were led into captivity by king Salmanazar, father of Sennacherib, in the reign of King Hosea. This book is a mixture of the Syriac, the Hebrew, and the vulgar Hebrew, which was the language spoken in the schools of the Rabbins, and which differs as much from the other, as the Latin of Bartolinus from that of Cicero. This work contains nothing that is valuable, but a very heavy load of pious absurdities, of insipid stories and palpable contradictions. The only apology that has been made for these extravagancies and idle fictions, is, that after the completion of the Talmud, those who succeeded in the Schools are distinguished by the name of
Opinionists,
and not by that of
Doctors
; and that no Jew is compelled to receive them as matters of faith, although we are informed that this work originated (as we have already observed) from the Great Dictator of the Written Law.
As the Reader may be curious to know one of these Rabbinical Reveries, we have compiled some notices which they have given concerning
Adam.
Adam's
body
was made of the earth of Babylon, his
head
of the land of Israel, his
other
members
of other parts of the world. R. Meir thought he was compact of the earth gathered out of the whole earth; as it is written—
Thine eyes did see my substance.
Now it is elsewhere written—
The eyes of the Lord are over all the earth.
R. Aha expressly marks the twelve hours in which his various parts were formed. His stature was from one end of the world to the other; and it was for his transgression that the Creator, laying his hand in anger on him, lessened him; for before, (says R. Eleazar) 'with his hand he reached the firmament.' R. Jehuda thinks his sin was Heresy; but R. Isaac thinks (as my author expresses it) that 'it was nourishing his foreskin.'
They farther inform us, that he was an Hermaphrodite, having both sexes, and a double body; the female parts joined at the shoulders, and back parts to the male; their countenances turned from each other. And this they prove by Moses saying, '
So God created man in his image; male and female
created he them, and he called their name
ADAM.' Adam, being solitary, cut himself in two, (a hint this to the Managers for their Pantomimes) and found himself fitted for procreation. Leo Hebraeus thus reconciles the fable of Plato's
Audrogynus
with the narration of Moses, from which he thinks it is borrowed. Plato relates, that Jupiter, in the first forming of mankind, made them such
audrogini,
with two bodies, of two sexes joined in the breast, which he divided for their pride, the navel still remaining as a
scar
of the wound then made.
This article may be sufficient to satiate the Reader with a perusal of the Talmud. For his farther satisfaction, I refer him to
Basnage's Histoire des Juifs, tome
IV. p. 1323,
CARDINAL RICHELIEU.
THE present anecdote concerning Cardinal Richelieu may serve to teach the man of letters, how he deals out Criticism to the
Great,
when they ask his opinion of Manuscripts, be they in verse or prose.
The Cardinal placed in a gallery of his Palace the portraits of several illustrious men. Among them was Blaise de Montluc, Mareschal of France. He was desirous of composing the inscriptions which were to be placed round the portraits. That which he intended for Montluc, was conceived in these terms:
Multa fecit, Plura scripsit, Vir tamen, Magnus fuit.
He shewed it to Bourbon, the Royal Professor in Greek, and asked his opinion concerning it. Having read it, he expressed his dislike in warm terms, and thought it was Latin much in the style of the Breviary; and, if it had concluded with an
Allelujah,
it would serve for an
Anthem
to the
Magnificat.
The Cardinal agreed with the severity of his strictures; and even acknowledged the discernment of the Professor; 'for,' he said, 'it is really written by a Priest.' But, however he might approve of Bourbon's critical power, he punished without mercy his ingenuity. The pension his Majesty had bestowed on him was withheld the next year.
The Cardinal was one of those ambitious men who foolishly aspire to excel in whatever a true Genius is most excellent; and, because he saw himsef constantly disappointed, he envied, with all the venom of rancour, those talents which are so frequently
all
that men of genius possess.
Here are two interesting anecdotes—He was jealous of Balzac, because his reputation became so splendid: he even offered the elder Heinsius ten thousand crowns to write a Criticism which should ridicule his elaborate compositions. This Heinsius refused, because Salmasius threatened to revenge Balzac on his
Herodes Infanticida.
He attempted to rival the reputation of Corneille's Cid, by opposing to it one of the most ridiculous productions that was ever exhibited in the theatre. It was an allegorical Tragedy, in which the
Minister
had congregated the four quarters of the world: it was distinguished by the name of
Europe
; and a great deal of political matter was thrown together, and divided into scenes and acts. When he first sent it anonymously to the French Academy, it was reprobated. He then tore it in rage, and scattered it about his study. Towards evening, like another Medea lamenting over the members of her own children, he and his secretary passed the night in uniting the scattered limbs. He then ventured to avow himself; and, having pretended to correct this incorrigible tragedy, the submissive Academy retracted their censures—but the Public pronounced it's melancholy fate, on it's first representation. This was the tragedy which was intended to thwart Corneille's Cid. Enraged at it's success, Richelieu even commanded the Academy to publish an abusive
Critique
of it, which is well known in French literature. Boileau; on this occasion, has these two well-turned verses—
En vain, contre le Cid, un Ministre se ligue;
Tout Paris, pour Chimene, a les yeux de Rodrigue.
Thus translated by a friend—
T' oppose the Cid, in vain a statesman tries;
All Paris, for
Chimene,
has
Rodrigue's
eyes.
We must confess, however, that Cardinal Richelieu was a great politician. Whether his
Nouveau Testament
be his entire composition, is uncertain. He must, however, have supplied the materials, as it contains much of what none but himself could know. These anecdotes will serve to shew, to what a degree of self-opinion Vanity may level a great man. He who would attempt to display Universal Excellence, will probably be disappointed; it is certain he will be impelled to practise meannesses, and to act follies, which if he has the least sensibility, must occasion him many a pang, and many a blush.
CARDAN.
THE famous Cardan was born at Milan, or at Padua, the place of his nativity being uncertain, in the year 1501. To great natural powers, he added much acquired knowledge: but, above all, he was ever desirous of information; and, to use the expression of a French writer, he passed his life in continual meditation. On him the Italians have made this acute observation—that he has written more than he had read, and taught more than he had learnt. He died at Rome in 1576, where he attended Pope Gregory the Thirteenth, in the character of Physician. In his book,
de Arcanis Aeternitatis,
will be found a great number of curious discoveries. Scaliger, who has written against him, acknowledges that, in many parts of his works, his intelligence seems greater than that which any writer ever possessed; while, in other parts, he betrays an imbecillity of mind which would not be excuseable in a boy. In matters of Religion, his opinions were unsettled: he did not know where to chuse. All that has been said of God, of Paradise, of Purgatory, of Hell, and of the Immortality of the Soul, &c. were things with him very disputable: and we may add, that they have appeared so likewise to others not less eminent than Cardan.
MARTIN LUTHER AND CALVIN.
To oppose the Church of Rome in their idea of Prayers addressed to the Saints,
Luther denied the immortality of the soul.
He said it expired with the body, but that God revived both. So that, according to his opinion, no one could enter into the visible presence of God till this operation had taken place. The Romish Church holding a contrary opinion, he treated as impious what it inculcates concerning the immortality of the soul. These are dreadful shifts for men who pretend to act by an impulse of the Divinity!
Calvin was originally named
Cauvin.
His stipend, as Minister at Geneva, was as miserable as the income of a Welch Curate. He was subject to
eleven
different maladies, which continually afflicting him, irritated his dispositions. He had, indeed, so much acerbity in his temper, that he became unsupportable to those who were near him. It was this that occasioned many Germans to say, 'that they preferred being in Hell with Beza, to being in Paradise with Calvin.' Every day he taught Theology, preached, and held various conferences; yet, in spite of all his occupations, he contrived to leave behind him, as an author, nine ponderous folios! He died at Geneva, in 1594, aged fifty-five. He was a learned man; but he has caused a world of woe. He strove ambitiously to overturn every thing. He was cruel and vindictive: he occasioned the persecution of Michael Servetus, who was so cruelly put to death in the name of a Christian Religion, and by the hands of men who profess Evangelical Gentleness; and all this for a difference about the Trinity!
It must, however, be recollected, that these anecdotes, and these sentiments, are collected from Catholic Writers: the first are probably exaggerated, and the latter must be qualified by the discernment of the Reader.
TERTULLIAN.
TERTULLIAN, a father of the Primitive Church, was an African. He is a most terrible Author, and does not yield easily to the hand of the Translator. He is all nerves; his pen pierces like a graver: his style would appear shocking to the present race of readers.
With him,
Discipline
means the Rights of Religion;
Faith,
it's Theory; and
God
and
Discipline,
mean God and his Worship. He calls the Christians
Little Fish,
because they are regenerated in the
waters
of Baptism: those who are baptized,
Candidatos Baptismi
; alluding to the White Robes the baptized wore till the succeeding Sunday, which was therefore called the White Sunday. This is surely burlesquing the rites of Baptism. In this style are all his works composed; and there have been many writers on Sacred topics who greatly admire these flourishes of his pen. We may approve of their religious zeal, but not of their taste in composition. Balzac, who pretends to be his admirer, gives a very ingenious reason for it: he says—'It must be confessed that his style is obscure; but that, like the richest ebony, through it's excess of darkness, it is bright.' An idle conceit, like this, offers but a weak apology for the defects of a writer.
Lactantius censures him for his inelegance and harshness.
Malebranche says, that 'his manner of writing dazzles the understanding; and that, like certain authors whose imaginations are vivid, he persuades us without the aid of reason. But he was a visionary, and destitute of judgment. His fire, his raptures, and his enthusiasm, upon the most trivial subjects, plainly indicate a disordered imagination. What hyperboles! What figures!'
Salmasius, the acutest commentator of the moderns, when he undertook to examine his writings, declared, that certainly no one ever can understand him.
Yet this is one of the fathers who established Christianity; and I am pained to observe, that a candid criticism on so
bad a writer
will be looked upon as committing an impiety towards Christianity, by certain zealots of religion, who seem in their notions to be at least some centuries remote from the enlightened spirit of this Age. But let it be considered, that I presume not to decide on matters of religious faith, but only on those which concern the four and twenty letters of the Alphabet.
ABELARD.
ALTHOUGH Abelard, an author so famous for his writings, and his amours with Eloisa, or rather Heloise, is ranked not among the Orthodox, but the Heretics, because he ventured to publish opinions concerning the Trinity, which were in those times thought too subtle and too bold; yet it is probably owing to his superior genius that he appeared so culpable in the eyes of his enemies. The cabal formed against him disturbed the earlier part of his life with a thousand persecutions; till at length they persuaded Bernard, his old
friend,
but who had now turned
saint,
that poor Abelard was what their malice described him to be. Bernard, enflamed against him, condemned, unheard, the unfortunate scholar. But it is remarkable, that the book which was burnt as unorthodox, and as the composition of Abelard, was in fact written by Peter Lombard, Bishop of Paris; a work which has since been
canonized
in the Sorbonne, and on which is founded the scholastic theology. We may add also, that because Abelard, in the warmth of honest indignation, had reproved the Monks of St. Denis, in France, and St. Gildas de Ruys, in Bretagne, for the horrid incontinence of their lives, they joined his enemies, and assisted to embitter the life of this ingenious scholar; who, perhaps, was guilty of no other crime than that of feeling too sensibly an attachment to one who not only possessed the enchanting attractions of the softer sex, but what indeed is very unusual, a congeniality of disposition, and an enthusiasm of imagination.
Is it, in heaven, a crime to love too well?
ADAM NOT THE FIRST MAN.
AMONG the many singular opinions which some have endeavoured to establish, and in which indeed they have themselves firmly confided, not the least to be distinguished is that of one Isaac de la Pereyre, of Bourdeaux. He is the author of a book entitled, '
The Pre-Adamites,
' where he attempts to shew that Adam is not the first of men. He was always dreaming on this during his life, and died in it's firm belief. He would have been glad to have known, that an ancient Rabbin was so much inclined towards his system, that he has even ventured to reveal the name of the
Preceptor
of Adam! But this Rabbin (as Menage observes)
was a Rabbin,
and that is saying enough.
When this book first made it's appearance, it was condemned to be burnt by the hand of the common hangman. Menage has preserved a pretty
Bon Mot
of the Prince de Guemene, which passed about the time this book made a noise. One Father Adam, a Jesuit, preached at St. Germain, before the Queen. The sermon was execrable; and being at the same time very personal, was greately disliked at Court. The Queen spoke concerning it to the Prince, and asked him his opinion. 'Madam,' he replied, 'I am a
Pre-Adamite.
'—'What does that mean?' said the Queen.'—'It is, Madam,' the Prince wittily answered, 'that I do not think
Father Adam
to be the
first
of men.'
Voltaire, at Ferney, had also a
Pere-Adam,
on whom he frequently played off this witticism of the Prince; and those who are acquainted with his creed, may believe that his observations on Father Adam were not a little pungent.
These Pre-Adamites bring to my recollection two humorous lines of Prior, in his Alma—
And lest I should be wearied, Madam,
To cut things short, come down to Adam.
THE ARABIC CHRONICLE.
THE Arabic Chronicle of Jerusalem is only valuable from the time of Mahomet. For such is the stupid superstition of the Arabs, that they pride themselves on being ignorant of whatever has passed before the mission of their Prophet. The most curious information it contains, is concerning the Croisades. The Abbé de Longerue has translated several parts. He who would be versed in the history of the Croisades, should attend to this chronicle. It seems to have been written with impartiality. It renders justice to the Christian Heroes, and particularly dwells on the gallant actions of the Count de Saint Gilles.
What is worthyof observation is, that
our
Historians chiefly write concerning
Godfrey de Bouillon
; only the learned know that the Count
de Saint Gilles
acted there so important a character. The stories of the
Saracens
are just the reverse: they speak little concerning Godfrey, and eminently distinguish Saint Gilles.
Tasso has given into the more vulgar accounts, by making the former so eminent, at the cost of the other heroes, in his Jerusalem Delivered. It was thus that Virgil transformed, by his magical power, the chaste Dido into a lover; and Homer, the meretricious Penelope into a moaning matron.
PRIOR'S HANS CARVEL.
THE story of the Ring of Hans Carvel, which Fontaine has so prettily set off, and Prior has with such gaiety and freedom related, is yet of very ancient standing; but it has proved so much a favourite, that a number of authors have employed it. Menage says, that Poggius Florentine, who died in 1459, has the merit of it's invention▪
Rabelais, who has given it in his peculiar manner, changed it's original name of Philelphus, to that of Hans Carvel.
This tale will also be found in the eleventh of the One Hundred New Novels collected in 1461.
Ariosto has borrowed it, at the end of his fifth Satire; but, by his pleasant manner of relating it, we must confess it is fairly appropriated.
An anonymous writer, who published a Collection of Novels, at Lyons, in 1555, has also employed it in his eleventh Novel.
Cellio Malespini has it again in page 288 of the Second Part of his Two Hundred Novels, printed at Venice in 1609.
Fontaine, and an anonymous writer who has composed it in Latin Anacreontic verses, have considered it to be a subject worthy of their pens; and, at length, our Prior has given it to us in his best manner: so that I may vento predict that, after Ariosto, La Fontaine, and Prior, he who again attempts it in the politer languages, will partake the dishonourable fate of Icarus.
PLINY.
PLINY was by much too bold to advance, in his Natural History, lib. 7. cap. 35. that the soul is not immortal. This is a dreadful sentiment to be disseminated throughout a state; for, if this principle is established, the good will no more hope for a recompence of their miseries, nor the bad dread a punishment for their crimes.
Pliny was certainly a man of irreproachable character: but the truth is, that, like most of the Romans, he aspired to glory, by shewing that he could be an honest man without the hope of any future reward. The sentiment is noble, but let it be confined to the narrow circle of speculative philosophy.
Pliny, to express at the same time the invention and the malice of men, says, in writing on
Arrows,
that they have given wings to iron, and taught it to fly like a bird—had he even added, like a ravenous vulture, perhaps it might have heightened this poetical image. Had he lived when gunpowder, fire-arms, and bombs, were invented, what metaphors could the philosopher have found to equal his indignation! Ariosto and Milton have satirized this diabolical machinery, when they gave them to be employed by the demons.
The Younger Pliny has given (a French wit observes) so exact a description of his house, that it looks as if he wished to dispose of it. Men of taste are fond of perpetuating those scenes which their lives have been passed in embellishing.
The Elder Pliny, who was so intimately acquainted with the human heart, says, on the subject of
Chrystal Vases,
that their fragility enhances their price; and that it is the boast of Luxury to make use of things that may, at the slightest blow, entirely perish.
The Younger Pliny has this admirable sentiment—That he is a good man, and of strict morals, who pardons every one, as if he himself committed faults every day; and yet, who endeavours to abstain from them, as if he pardoned no one.
MADEMOISELLE DE SCUDERY.
Bien heureux Scudery, dont la fertile plume
Peut enfanter tous les mois une petite volume!
IT is Boileau who has written the above couplet on the Scuderies, the brother and sister, both famous in their day for composing Romances, which they sometimes extended to ten or twelve volumes. It was the favourite literature of that period, as much as the
Novels
of the present times; or, to be more correct, of the present hour. Our Nobility not infrequently condescended to translate these voluminous compositions.
The diminutive size of our modern Novels is undoubtedly an improvement; but, in resembling the size of
Primers,
it were to be wished that their contents had also resembled their inoffensive page. Our great-grandmothers were incommoded with overgrown folios; and, instead of finishing the eventful history of two lovers at one or two sittings, it was sometimes six months,
including Sundays,
before they could get quit of their Clelias, their Cyrus's, and Parthenissas.
Mademoiselle Scudery, Menage informs us, had composed
ninety volumes!
the materials of which were entirely drawn from her own fertile invention. She had even finished another Romance; but which she would not give to the Public, whose taste, she saw, no more relished these kinds of works.
' What a pleasing description,' he elsewhere observes, 'has Mademoiselle Scudery made in her Cyrus of the Little Court at Rambouillet! There are a thousand things in the Romances of this learned lady that render them inestimable. She has drawn from the Ancients their happiest passages, and has even improved upon them. Like the Prince in the fable, whatever she touches becomes gold. We may read her works with great profit, if we posses a correct taste, and wish to gather instruction. Those who censure their
length,
only shew the littleness of their judgment; as if Homer and Virgil were to be despised, because many of their books are filled with episodes and incidents that necessarily retard the conclusion. It does not require much penetration to observe, that
Cyrus
and
Clelia
are species of the
Epic
poem. The Epic must embrace a number of events to suspend the course of the narrative; which only taking in a part of the life of the hero, would terminate too soon to discover the skill of the poet. Without this artifice, the charm of uniting the greater part of the Episodes to the principal subject of the Romance would be lost. Mademoiselle de Scudery has so well treated them, and so aptly introduced a variety of beautiful passages, that nothing in this kind is comparable to her productions. If we except some expressions, and certain turns, which have become somewhat obsolete, all the rest will last for ever, and outlive the criticisms they have undergone.'
Menage has here certainly uttered a false prophecy. Her Romances I only know by their names; but this
Critique
must be allowed to be given rather in the spirit of friendship than of true criticism.
I shall add to this article the sentiments of a modern French writer, who has displayed great ingenuity in his strictures.
' The misfortune of her having written too abundantly has occasioned an unjust contempt. We confess there are many heavy and tedious passages in her voluminous Romances; but if we consider that, in the Clelia and the Artamene, are to be found inimitable delicate touches, and many splendid parts which would do honour to some of our living writers, we must acknowledge that the great defects of all her works arise from her not writing in an age when taste had reached the acmé of cultivation which it now has. Such is her erudition, that the French place her next to the celebrated Madame Dacier. Her works, containing many secret intrigues of the court and city, her readers relished, on their early publication, more keenly than we can at present.'
THE SCALIGERS.
THE Man of Letters must confess—reluctantly, perhaps—that the literature which stores the head with so many ingenious reflections, and so much admirable intelligence, may at the same time have little or no influence over the virtues of the heart. The same vices, and the same follies, disgrace the literate and the illiterate. Who possessed a profounder knowledge of the Grecian learning, or was a more erudite critic, than
Burman?
Yet this man lived unobservant of every ordinary decency and moral duty. Who displayed more acuteness of mind, and a wider circle of literature, than the
Scaligers?
Yet, from the anecdotes and characters I collect of them, let the reader contemplate the
men.
The two Scaligers, father and son, were two prodigies of learning and of vanity. Schioppius has tore the mask of that principality with which the father had adorned himself; for the elder Scaliger maintained that he was descended from the Princes of Verona. Schioppius says, and he is now credited, that he was originally named Jules Burden; that he was born in the shop of a gilder; had passed some part of his life with a surgeon; and then became a cordelier. The elevation of his mind made him aspire to honours greater than these: he threw off his frock, and took the degree of Doctor in Physic at Paris. In this character he appeared at Venice, and in Piedmont. He there attached himself to a Prelate of the noble House of Rovezza, and followed him to Agen, of which his patron was made Bishop. He there married the daughter of an apothecary. Such were the parents of Joseph Scaliger; who, finding this chimerical principality in his family, passed himself for a
Prince
; and, to render the impositions of his father more credible, he added many of his own.
Naudé speaks thus concerning them—'They say, in Italy, that Scaliger's father married, at Agen, the daughter of an apothecary; though others affirm, the bastard of a bishop:' probably, of the prelate he followed. 'His son Scaliger was visited in the character of a
Prince
at Leyden.'
By this, I think, it appears that Naudé gives him credit for the principality; for he seems not in the least to smile at the honour.
' The Duke de Nevers, having paid him a visit, offered him a considerable present, which Scaliger civilly refused.'
The pride of this supposititious Prince, who was but a poor student, must have run high!
' Schioppius,' adds Naudé, 'must have been under the influence of some demon when he wrote so bad a book against Scaliger:' yet Menage observes of this work, that Joseph Scaliger died of the chagrin he felt on the occasion of Schioppius's book being published, entitled,
Scaliger Hypobolymaeus.
' Yet we may,' observes Huet, 'say, with Lipsius, that if the two Scaligers were not actually Princes, they richly merited a principality for the beauty of their genius and the extent of their erudition; but we can offer no apology for their ridiculous and singular haughtiness.
' When a friend was delineating his character, the father wrote to him in these terms—"Endeavour to collect whatever is most beautiful in the pages of Masinissa, of Xenophon, and of Plato, and you may then form a portrait which, however, will resemble me but imperfectly."
Yet this man possessed little delicacy of taste, as he evinces by the false judgments he passes on Homer and Musaeus; and, above all, by those unformed and rude poems with which he has dishonoured Parnassus. I have read somewhere a French sonnet by this man, which is beneath criticism. Menage says, that the collection of Scaliger's poems, which forms a thick octavo volume, will hardly find it's equal for bad composition, considering them as the productions of a man of letters. Of a great number of epigrams, there are but four or five which are in the least tolerable.
Huet thinks that his son composed those letters which pass under his name; and, as he is an exquisite judge of style, we should credit his opinion. But, though his poetry is so destitute of spirit or grace, his prose, it must be allowed, is excellent: nothing can be more noble, higher polished, or more happily turned.
The son possessed a finer taste: his style is more flowing and easy, and yet is not the less noble. His writings, like those of the father, breathe singular haughtiness and malignity. The Scaligerana will convince us that he was incapable of thinking or speaking favourably of any person. Although he has reflected honour on his age by the extensiveness of his learning, we must confess that he has not seldom fallen into gross errors, even on those subjects to which he had most applied. As for instance, Chronology, which was his favourite study; and although he imagined that he stretched the sceptre over the realms of Criticism, no one has treated this topic with less felicity. It was the reform of the Calendar then pending at Rome which engaged him in this study. He wished to shew the world that he was more capable than all those who had been employed. If the success of this labour had depended on the extent and variety of erudition, he had eminently surpassed all those who had applied to this task; but he was their inferior in the solidity of his judgment, in the exactness of his arguments, and the profundity of his speculations. When he fondly believed that he had found the Quadrature of the Circle, he was corrected, and turned into ridicule, by an obscure schoolmaster; who, having clearly pointed out the paralogism which deceived him, made his cyclometrics vanish at his touch.
' Scaliger, the father, was,' says Patin, 'an illustrious impostor. He had never been at any war, nor at any court of the Emperor Maximilian, as he pretended. He passed the first thirty years of his life in one continued study. Afterwards, he threw off his monk's frock, and palmed on all Europe the singular imposition of his being a descendant of the Princes of Verona, who bore the name of Scaliger.
Julius Scaliger had this peculiarity in his manner of composition: he wrote with such accuracy, that his manuscript and the printed copy always corresponded page for page, and line for line. This may appear trifling information; but I am persuaded that a habit of correctness in the lesser parts of composition assists the higher.
George Psalmanazar, well known in the literary world, exceeded in powers of deception any of the great impostors of learning. His Island of Formosa was an illusion eminently bold, and maintained with as much felicity as erudition; and vast must have been that erudition which could, on scientific principles, form a language and it's grammar.
DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT.
THE maxims of this noble Author are in the hands of every one. To those who chuse to derive every motive and every action from the solitary principle of
self-love,
they are inestimable. They form one continued satire on human nature; but they are not reconcileable to the feelings of him who trembles with the sensibilities of genius, or passes through life with the firm integrity of virtue.
The character of this Author is thus given by Segrais—'The Duke de la Rochefoucault had not studied; but he was endowed with a wonderful degree of discernment, and knew perfectly well the world. It was this that afforded him opportunities of making reflections, and reducing into maxims those discoveries which he had made in the heart of man, of which he displayed an admirable knowledge.'
Chesterfield, our English Rochefoucault, we are also informed, possessed an admirable knowledge of the heart of man; and he, too, has drawn a similar picture of human nature. These are two
noble authors,
whose chief studies seem to have been in
courts.
May it not be possible, allowing these authors not to have written a sentence of apocrypha, that the fault lies not so much in
human nature
as in the
nobility
themselves?
THE FATHERS OF THE CHURCH.
THE present criticism is drawn from the Abbé Longuerue. He, of all the Fathers of the ancient Christians who best have composed in Latin, is
Sulpicius Severus,
particularly in his History.
Lactantius
has many splendid passages scattered in his works.
St. Augustine,
who had studied Cicero very attentively, has not, however, taken him for his model in his writings; or rather, could never approach him in any degree.
St. Jerome
has sometimes passages which may be read with pleasure; but he is strangely unequal.
St. Ambrose
has endeavoured to imitate Cicero; but there is a wide difference betwixt them.
SEVERE CRITICISM.
AN unmerciful Critic observes, that there are few books to which an Author can prefix
his name,
without trespassing upon his veracity: for there is not one work which is the labour of a single person.
When a Poet was reproached for his
Plagiarisms,
(which he probably called
Classical Imitations
) he defended himself in this manner—That a painter was not less a painter, nor an architect less an architect, because the one purchased his
colours,
and the other his
building materials.
'It is all pouring out of one bottle into another,' exclaimed Sterne.—Unhappy Authors! Unrelenting Critics!
THE PORT ROYAL SOCIETY.
EVERY lover of Letters must have heard of the Port Royal Society, and probably has benefited by the labours of these learned Men: but, perhaps, few have attended to their origin, and to their dissolution.
The Society of the
Port Royal des Champs—
that was the original title—took this name from a valley about six leagues from Paris.
In the year 1637,
Le Maitre,
a celebrated Advocate, renounced the Bar, and resigned the honour of being
Conseiller d'Etat,
which his uncommon merit had obtained him, though then only twenty-eight years of age. His brother,
De Sericourt,
who had followed the military profession, quitted it at the same time. Both consecrating themselves to the service of God, they retired into a little house near
the Port Royal
of Paris. Their brothers,
De Sacy, De St. Elme,
and
De Valmont,
joined them. For some political reason, they were constrained to remove themselves from that spot, and they then fixed their residence at
Port Royal des Champs.
There again the Court disturbed them, after a residence of little more than two months; but, about a year afterwards, they again returned.
With these illustrious Recluses many persons of distinguished merit now retired: and it was this Community which has been since called
the Society of Port Royal.
Amongst the members, was the celebrated Arnauld, and others, whose names would reflect a lustre on any society.
Here were no rules, no vows, no constitution, and no cells formed. Prayer and study were their only occupations. They applied themselves to the education of young men, and initiated the rising generation into science and into virtue.
Racine
here received his education; and, on his death-bed, desired to be buried in the cemetery of the Port Royal, at the feet of M. Hamon. An amiable instance, this, of the Poet's sensibility!
Anne de Bourbon, a Princess of the blood-royal, erected a house near the Port Royal, and was, during her life, the powerful patroness of these solitary and religious men: but her death happening in 1679, gave the fatal stroke which dispersed them for ever.
The envy and the fears of the Jesuits, and their rancour against
Arnauld,
who with such ability had exposed their designs, occasioned the destruction of the Port Royal Society.
THE PROGRESS OF OLD AGE IN NEW STUDIES.
SOCRATES learnt to play on Musical Instruments in his old age: Cato, at eighty, thought proper to learn Greek; and Plutarch, almost as late in life, Latin.
One John Gelida, a Spaniard, commenced the studies of Polite Literature at forty.
Henry Spelman, having neglected the Sciences in his youth, cultivated them at fifty years of age, and produced good fruit.
Fairfax, after having been General of the parliamentary forces, retired to Oxford, to take his degrees in Law.
Colbert, the famous French Minister, almost at sixty, returned to his Latin and Law studies.
Tellier, the Chancellor of France, learnt Logic, merely for an amusement, to dispute with his grand-children.
SPANISH POETRY.
PERE BOUHOURS observes, that the Spanish Poets display an extravagant imagination, which is by no means destitute of
wit
; but which evinces little taste or judgment.
Their verses are much in the style of our Cowley—trivial Points, monstrous Metaphors, and forced Conceits.
A true poetical taste is not pleased with such wild chimeras, but requires the fine touches of Nature and Passion.
Lopes de Vega, in describing an afflicted Shepherdess, in one of his Pastorals, who is represented weeping near the sea-side, says— ' That the Sea joyfully advances to gather her tears; and that, having enclosed them in shells, it converts them into pearls.'
Y el mar como imbidioso
A tierra por las lagrimas salia,
Y alegre de cogerlas
Las guarda en conchas, y convierte en perlas.
Gongora, whom the Spaniards so greatly admire, and whom they distinguish, amongst their Poets, by the epithet of
The Wonderful,
is full of these points and conceits.
He imagines that a Nightingale, who enchantingly varied her notes, and sung in different manners, had a hundred thousand other Nightingales in her breast, which alternately sung through her throat—
Con diferencia tal, con gracia tanta,
A quel ruysenor llora, que sospecho
Que tiene otros cien mil dentro del pecho,
Que alterna su dolor por su garganta.
He calls the
Girasole,
which lasts longer than the generality of flowers, '
Mathusalen
de las floras
;' because Methusalem lived to a greater age than the other Patriarchs.
In one of his Odes, he gives to the River of Madrid, the title of the
Duke of Streams,
and the
Viscount of Rivers
—
Mançanares, Mançanares,
Os que en todo el aguatismo,
Eftois
Duque
de Arroyos,
Y
Visconde
de los Rios.
He did not venture to call it a
Spanish Grandee,
for, in fact, it is but a shallow and dirty stream; and, as Quevedo informs us—'
The Mançanares
is reduced, during the Summer-season, to the melancholy condition of the wicked Rich Man, who asks for water in the depths of Hell.'
Concerning this River a pleasant witticism is recorded. A Spaniard passing it, one day, when it was perfectly dry, and observing that the superb bridge, which Philip the Second had built over it, served to very little purpose, archly remarked—'That it would be proper that the bridge should be sold, to purchase water.'
Es menester vender la puente por comprar agua.
SAINT EVREMOND.
THE character of St. Evremond, delineated by his own hand, will not be unacceptable to many readers.
A French Critic has observed of this writer, that he had great wit, and frequently has written well; but there is a strange inequality throughout his works.
The comparisons which he has formed betwixt some of the illustrious Ancients, are excellent; the Criticisms which he has given on several Authors, are valuable: but, in the greater part of his works, he sinks to mediocrity. His Poetry is insipid, and not the composition of Genius, but Study. His prosaic style is too full of points: the Antithesis was his favourite figure, and he is continually employing it.
This last censure, I am fearful, may reach the present character which he has given of himself: but still it is ingenious, and offers a lively picture to the imagination—
' I am a Philosopher, as far removed from superstition as from impiety; a Voluptuary, who has not less abhorrence for debauchery than inclination for pleasure; a Man, who has never known want nor abundance. I occupy that station of life, which is despised by those who possess every thing; envied by those who have nothing, and only relished by those who make their felicity to consist in the exercise of their reason. Young, I hated dissipation; convinced that a man must possess wealth to provide for the comforts of a long life: old, I disliked oeconomy; as I believed that we need not greatly dread want, when we have but a short time to be miserable. I am satisfied with what Nature has done for me; nor do I repine at Fortune. I do not seek in men what they have of evil, that I may censure; I only find out what they have ridiculous, that I may be amused. I feel a pleasure in detecting their follies; I should feel a greater in communicating my discoveries, did not my prudence restrain me. Life is too short, according to my ideas, to read all kinds of books, and to load our memory with an infinite number of things, at the cost of our judgment. I do not attach myself to the sentiments of scientific men, to acquire Science; but to the most rational, that I may strengthen my reason. Sometimes, I seek for the more delicate minds, that my taste may imbibe their delicacy; sometimes, for the gayer, that I may enrich my genius with their gaiety: and, although I constantly read, I make it less may occupation than my pleasure. In Religion, and in Friendship, I have only to paint myself such as I am—in friendship, more tender than a philosopher; and, in religion, as constant, and as sincere, as a Youth who has more simplicity than experience. My Piety is composed more of justice and charity, than of penitence. I rest my confidence on God, and hope every thing from His benevolence. In the bosom of Providence I find my repose and my felicity.'
CORNEILLE AND ADDISON.
THE Student, who may, perhaps, shine a luminary of Learning and of Genius, in the pages of his volume, is found, not rarely, to lie obscured beneath a thick cloud in colloquial discourse.
It is the Superficial Mind that reflects little, but speaks fluently; and that appears to the vulgar, who are better judges of the quantity than of the quality of words, a constellation of abilities.
If you love the Man of Letters, seek him in the privacies of his study; or, if he be a Man of Virtue, take him to your bosom. It is in the hour of confidence and tranquillity, his Genius may elicit a ray of intelligence, more fervid than the labours of polished composition.
The great Peter Corneille, whose genius resembled that of our Shakespeare, and who has so forcibly expressed the sublime sentiments of the Hero, had nothing in his exterior manners that indicated his genius: on the contrary, his conversation was so insipid, that it never failed of wearying his auditors. Nature, who had lavished on him the extraordinary gifts of Genius, had forgotten, or rather disdained, to blend with them her more ordinary ones. He did not even
speak,
correctly, that language, of which he was such a master.
When his friends represented to him, in the trite cant of the vulgar, how much more he might please, by not disdaining to correct these trivial errors; he would smile, and say, '
I am not the less Peter Corneille!
'
The deficiencies of Addison, in conversation, are well known. He preserved a rigid silence amongst strangers; but, if he was silent, it was the silence of Meditation. He, probably, at that moment, laboured more in his reflections, than had he been in his study.
The vulgar may
talk
; but it is for Genius to
observe.
The 'prating Mandeville,' pert, frothy, and empty, in his Misanthropic Compositions, compared Addison, after having passed an evening in his company, to 'a silent Parson in a tye-wig.' It is no shame for an
Addison
to receive the censures of a
Mandeville
; they have only to blush when they call down those of a
Pope!
VIDA.
WHAT a consolation must it be for an aged parent to see his child, by the efforts of his own merits, attain, from the humblest obscurity, to distinguished eminence! What a transport must it yield to the Man of Sensibility to return to the obscure dwelling of his parent, and to embrace him, adorned with public honours! Poor
Vida
was deprived of this satisfaction; but he is placed higher in our esteem by the present Anecdote, than even by that classic composition, which rivals the Art of Poetry of his great Master.
Jerome Vida,
after having long served two Popes, had at length attained to the Episcopacy. Arrayed in the robes of his new dignity, he prepared to visit his aged parents, and felicitated himself with the raptures which the old couple would feel, in embracing their son as their Bishop. When he arrived at their village, he learnt that it was but a few days since they were no more! His sensibilities were exquisitely pained. The Muse, elegantly querulous, dictated some Elegiac Verse; and, in the sweetest pathos, deplored the death and the disappointment of his parents.
MATTHEW PARIS.
A FRENCH Critic has given this just and lively criticism on our Historian—
' Matthew Paris, an English Monk, is a good Historian, if we except his Visions, and his Apparitions, with which his work is crouded. This is his worst side. But in those times, when they wrote History, it was as essential to recount a number of miracles, as it is in the present day to reject them; unless they are introduced to raise a laugh.
Matthew Paris is, however, sincere, and frank; and, without labouring at delineating the portraits of his heroes, he presents us with all the ideas which are necessary to be given. And this is more pleasing to me, than that vile affectation of continually drawing elaborate portraits; the great number of which disgust, and render the veracity of the Author frequently suspected.'
Will not this last censure fall heavy on the
characters
which Smollet has given us at the conclusion of every reign of our Monarchs? Does not the Author more frequently delineate the image of Imagination, than that of Historic Truth?
THE NUMERAL FIGURES.
The Numeral Figures, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, which we now employ, began to be made use of, in Europe, for the first time, in 1240, in the Alphonsean Tables, made by the order of Alphonso, son of Ferdinand, King of Castile; who employed, for this purpose, Isaac Hazan, a Jew singer, of the Synagogue of Toledo; and Aben Ragel, an Arabian. The Arabs took them from the Indians, in 900. The other Eastern nations received them through the means of the Spaniards, in a short time after their invasions. The first Greek who made use of them, was Plenudes, in a work dedicated to Michael Paleologus, in 1270; so that the Greeks had them not from the Arabs, but the Latins.
These cyphers were first used at Paris, in 1256; and became generally used in England, as Dr. Wallis thinks, about the year 1130; but this has been a point hitherto very disputable; and if the present account, which is taken from the accurate Menage, be just, it will appear still more so.
CONCEPTION AND EXPRESSION.
THERE are Men who have just thoughts on every subject; but it is not perceived, because their expressions are feeble. They conceive well, but they produce badly.
Erasmus acutely observed, alluding to what then much occupied his mind, that one might be apt to swear that they had been taught, in the Confessional Cell, all they had learnt; so scrupulous are they of disclosing what they know. Others, again, conceive ill, and produce well; for they express with elegance, frequently, what they do not know.
It was observed of one Pleader, that he
knew
more than he
said
; and of another, that he
said
more than he
knew.
BOOKS OF LOVE AND DEVOTION.
THE agreeable Menage has this acute observation on the writings of Love and Religion.—'Books of Devotion, and those of Love, are alike bought. The only difference I find is, that there are more who read books of Love, than buy them; and there are more who buy books of Devotion, than read them.'
GEOGRAPHICAL DICTION.
' THERE are many Sciences,' Menage, 'on which we cannot, indeed, write in a florid or elegant diction—such as Geography, Music, Algebra, Geometry, &c. Cicero, who had been intreated by Atticus to write on Geography, excused himself; and observed, that it's scenes were moe adapted to please the eye, than susceptible of the rich ornaments of a polished style. However, in these kinds of science, we must supply, by some little words of
erudition,
the absence of the flowers of elegant diction.
Thus if we are to notice some inconsiderable place; for instance,
Andelis:
in adding, that it was the birth-place of
Turnebus,
as Calepin has done, this erudition pleases even more than all the flowery ornaments of rhetoric.
SAINTS CARRYING THEIR HEADS IN THEIR HANDS.
ILLITERATE persons have imagined, that the representation of a Saint in this manner, was meant to shew a miracle of this kind. But we must do justice to these Saints by wiping away the obloquy of endeavouring to impose on us this supernatural action.
It was the custom of the Painters, when they drew Saints who had suffered decapitation, to
place their heads in their hands,
to mark the species of martyrdom they suffered; and the headless trunk, at the same time, would have had a very repulsive effect.
It is said, that when a Lord, in the rebellion of 1745, was committed to prison, on suspicion of corresponding with the Pretender, he caused himself to be painted in the character of St. Denis carrying his head in his hand.
NOBLEMEN TURNED CRITICS.
I OFFER to the contemplation of those unfortunate mortals, who are necessitated to undergo the criticisms of
Lords,
this pair of Anecdotes—
A Cardinal having caused a statue to be made at Rome, by the great
Angelo,
when it was finished, he came to inspect it; and having, for some time, sagaciously considered it, poring now on the face, then on the arms, the knees, the form of the leg, and, at length, on the foot itself; the statue being of such perfect beauty, he found himself at a loss to display his powers of criticism, but by lavishing his praise. But he recollected, that only to praise, might appear as if there had been an obtuseness in the keenness of his criticism. He trembled to find a fault, but a fault must be found. At length, he ventured to mutter something concerning the nose; it might, he thought, be something more Grecian.
Angelo
differed from his Grace, but he said he would attempt to gratify his taste. He took up his chissel, and concealed some marble-dust in his hand; and, feigning to retouch the part, he adroitly let fall some of the dust he held concealed. The Cardinal observing it fall, transported at the idea of his critical acumen, exclaimed—'Ah,
Angelo!
you have now given to it an inimitable grace!'
When
Pope
was first introduced to read his Iliad to Lord Halifax, the noble Critic did not venture to be dissatisfied with so perfect a composition: but, like the Cardinal, this passage, and that word, this turn, and that expression, formed the broken cant of his criticisms. The honest Poet was stung with vexation; for, in general, the parts at which his lordship hesitated, were those of which he was most satisfied. As he returned home with Sir Samuel Garth, he revealed to him the anxiety of his mind. 'Oh,' replied Garth, laughing, 'you are not so well acquainted with his lordship as myself; he must criticise. At your next visit, read to him those very passages as they now stand; tell him, that you have recollected his criticisms; and I'll warrant you of his approbation of them. This is what I have done a hundred times myself.'
Pope
made use of this stratagem: it took, like the marbledust of
Angelo,
; and my Lord, like the Cardinal, exclaimed—'Dear
Pope,
they are now inimitable!'
THE ART OF CRITICISM.
AN eminent French Writer has thus very ingeniously traced the origin of Criticism.
The Art of Criticism is by no means a modern invention; but it must be confessed, that in the last age alone it hath reached it's present degree of perfection.
According to Dion Chrysostom,
Aristotle
is the inventor of Criticism; it is, at least, certain that it appeared about his time.
Aristarchus,
who flourished at Samos, about one hundred and fifty years before the Christian Aera, wrote nine books of Corrections of the Iliad and Odyssey, and spread a general alarm amongst the race of Authors; insomuch that, to the present day, a
Critic,
and an
Aristarchus,
are synonimous words.
As the Sciences were, for a long time, neglected, Criticism shared the same fate. There were, however, even in the most barbarous ages, a few learned men who cultivated it. At the restoration of Letters, Criticism, by the efforts of many celebrated Scholars, sprung up with new vigour. But two important events contributed equally to the revival of Letters and of Criticism: the taking of Constantinople, by the Turks, which occasioned several of the learned to retire into Italy and France; and the invention of Printing, which was discovered about that time.
As soon as this admirable Art was made public, they applied themselves to publishing excellent Editions of all the good Authors, according to the most correct Manuscripts. They were indefatigable in their researches for the most ancient copies, and they collated them with the modern ones, by the strictest rules of Criticism.
Some formed
Dictionaries
and
Grammars
of different languages; and some
Commentaries,
for illustrating the Text. Others composed
Treatises
on Fabulous History, on the Religion, Government, and the Military Operations of the Ancients. They dwelt on the minutest particularities which concerned their Manners, their Apparel, their Repasts, their Amusements, &c. In a word, they neglected nothing which, after so wide an interval, might throw new lights on what remained of the Grecian and the Roman Compositions.
The Learned of the Sixteenth Century made new efforts, not only to clear the uncultivated lands of the Republic of Letters, which had remained unexplored by their predecessors, but also to improve those they had inherited. They prided themselves in the freest discussions; they rummaged every library, to bring to light unnoticed Manuscripts; they compared them together: they arranged those historical facts which were necessary to restore the texts, and to six the dates; and they were careful, above all things, not to decide on the sense of a passage, without a mature examination, and a laborious collation.
Yet, after the immense labours of Justus Lipsius, the Scaligers, Turnebus, Budaeus, Erasmus, and so many other learned men, Criticism still remained imperfect; and it is only in the last age that it attained to the height which it now has reached.
This perfection of Criticism is owing to the establishment of ACADEMIES, particularly those of the French and the Belles Lettres Academies. In their labours may be found those numerous and judicious Remarks, which had escaped the penetration of the first Scholars in Europe.
I cannot quit this Article, without observing, that it is much to the dishonour of the national character, no Academy, dedicated to the BELLES LETTRES, has ever been established. To raise such an ACADEMY, is a glory still reserved for an Augustan Monarch.
Louis XIV. has all his foibles forgiven by Posterity, when they contemplate the munificent patronage he bestowed on Men of Letters. The splendours of Royalty, and the trophies of Ambition, may elevate the voice of Adulation; but they expire with the Hero and the Monarch. The beneficial influence of Literature is felt through successive ages; and they, indeed, are the Benefactors of mankind, who bestow on posterity their most refined pleasures, and their most useful speculations.
THE ABSENT MAN.
WITH the character of Bruyere's Absent Man, it is probable, the reader is well acquainted. It is translated in the Spectator, and it has been exhibited on the Theatre. The general opinion runs, that it is a fictitious character, or, at least, one the Author has too highly coloured: it was well known, however, to his contemporaries, to be the Count De Brancas. The present Anecdotes concerning the same person, have been unknown to, or forgotten by, Bruyere; and, as they are undoubtedly genuine, and, at the same time, to the full as extraordinary as those which characterize
Menalcas,
or the Absent Man; it is but reasonable to suppose, that the character, however improbable it may appear, is a faithful delineation from Nature.
One day, when the Count was walking in the street, the Duke de la Rochefoucault crossed the way, to speak to him. 'God bless thee, poor man!' exclaimed the Count. Rochefoucault smiled, and was beginning to address him—'Is it not enough,' cried the Count, interrupting him, and somewhat in a passion; 'is it not enough that I have said, at first, I have nothing for you? Such lazy beggars as you hinder a gentleman from walking the streets.' Rochefoucault burst into a loud laugh; and awakening the Absent Man from his lethargy, he was not a little surprized, himself, that he should take his friend for an importunate mendicant!
The Count was reading by the fire-side, but Heaven knows with what degree of attention, when the nurse brought him his infant-child. He throws down the book; he takes the child in his arms—he was playing with her, when an important visitor was announced. Having forgot he had quitted his book, and that it was his child he held in his hands, he threw her down violently on the table; and, probably, was surprized to hear loud cries issue from his book.
METAPHORS.
CARDINAL PERRON has a very judicious criticism on
Metaphors.
Cicero compares them to Virgins, who should not too familiarly shew themselves, and who must appear without affection. We frequently meet with many that are not only vicious, but disgustful, and have nothing of that by which Cicero is desirous they should be distinguished.
Is it possible that some Authors are ignorant that
Style
is meant to delight! And, if they write vicious and disgustful
Metaphors,
should they even convey to the reader their meaning, they must offend?—Such as those which a fanatical Preacher employed, when he called on the Lord to wipe his lips with the
napkin
of his love; and when he talked of the
lamp
of love, and the
candle
of divine grace.
Bishop Latimer preached, in the year 1527, a sermon, in which he says—'Now, ye have heard what is meant by this
first card,
and how ye ought to
play:
I purpose again to
deal
unto you another
card
of the same
suit
; for they be of so nigh affinity, that one cannot be
well played
without the other.'
About the middle of the Seventeenth Century, a country minister—Fuller informs us—imitated these ridiculous allusions of Latimer; but the congregation, now somewhat more refined than in the good Bishop's time, could not refrain from immoderate peals of laughter.
Perron observes, that in employing
Metaphors,
we must not descend from the
general
to the
particular:
we may be allowed to say—the
flames
of love, but not the
candle,
the
lamp,
and the
wick
of love. Saint Anselm exclaims—'
Draw
me, O Lord! that I may
run
after thee; fasten me with the
cords
of thy Love!' The
Metaphor
is a little similitude, or an abridgment of a similitude—it must pass quick; we must not dwell upon it; when it is too far continued, it is vicious, and degenerates into an
Enigma.
Pere Bouhours also observes, that Metaphors must not be continued too far, and that when they are thus overstrained, they become trifling and frigid. These two instances will explain what is here meant—
An Italian, on his return from Poland, said, that the persons of that country were as white as their snows; but, that they were even colder than they were white; and that frequently, from their conversations, he caught a
cold.
Costar says, that the Lectures of Malherbe were satiating and cloying to a degre—so as to destroy the
appetite
of those who heard them, and to save them the expence of a
dinner.
Of the first it is to be observed, that
Cold,
as a figure, is an established Metaphor; but that from this cold we are likely to catch one, is what passes the just limits of the Metaphor, as well as those lectures, which cloyed till they occasioned a loss of appetite, and saved the expence of a dinner.
It was saying enough, that they were satiating and disagreeable, without adding the rest, which goes to such an extreme, and which is not likely. This, however, must be understood, when the Author speaks in a serious style: for, if he means to employ such Metaphors with levity, and in joking, they would then not shock us; because, when we laugh, we may be allowed great latitude; and, according to Aristotle and Quintilian, whenever we joke, the falsest thoughts have, in some measure, a true sense.
To illustrate this criticism. Let us try these two thoughts; which, however carried far, have great merit, when we reflect on the manner in which they must be understood.
An ancient Satirist says, that if we wish to temper an overheated bath, we have only to beg a certain Rhetorician to enter; because he was remarkable for frigidity in his discourses. A modern Satirist declares, he was lately frozen at reading a certain Elegy of a miserable Poetaster; and that the polar frosts do not, by many degrees, approach it.
GIBBON.
THE present Article is the communication of a Literary Friend. I repose, with firm security, on it's justness; but I cannot now turn to the Passages it criticises.
I had remarked, in reading Gibbon, two matters, in which he has been grossly mistaken. One was, the Standard of our English Coin, when he compares it, in a note, with that of some Foreign Coin he had to estimate. The other point was, when, in speaking of a Religious Sect who used to fast on certain days, he adds—'They probably derived this custom from that of the Jews fasting on their Sabbath.' This is a flagrant error; since it has always been their custom, rather to indulge in festal enjoyments on that day. It is, with them, a rule to observe no Fast on the Sabbath, though it might be the anniversary of the most remarkable event. The day of Expiation is the only Fast permitted to be kept on the Seventh day. I have endeavoured to find out these passages, but have hitherto been unsuccessful: I am certain, however, my memory does not mislead me.
INNOVATION.
To the same ingenious friend I am indebted for the present, and two subsequent Articles.
The following short extract from a French Writer, about the year 1500, may serve to shew, that the cry against
Innovation
is not peculiar to the Clergy of the present day, even against the opinions of the most moderate amongst their own body.
' Such persons were the brave Bishops of the Lionnois, who assembled a Synod to reform the regulations of Saint Anthony in that Province. The Monks of that place were distinguished by the title of the
Hogs of Saint Anthony
: they afflicted themselves with the pains of making
eight repasts
in one day, to shew the weakness of Human Nature!
There were some Jesuits, and some young Bishops, who made fine harangues, and long ones too, to demonstrate that
such constitutions
admit of change,
habitâ ratione temporum:
that what our
ancestors
had done with a good intention, was, at this day, ridiculous. But to all these
reasons
the
Sub-Prior
of Saint Anthony only replied, snoring, with this grave and remarkable sentence—
Let us keep ourselves, in our time, from novelties.
The contest was renewed with vigour on the other side: but the
Sub-Prior,
with his triple chin, persisted in the same argument; stammering out—
Let us keep—let us keep—keep ourselves—
&c.
However silly this reply of our well-fed Prior may seem, it is the same which has now the force to resist all the salutary reforms which Reason and Good-sense so loudly call for in Institutions not only rendered
obsolete
by Time, but defective and unjust in their
original
principles. It is the same grave and unmeaning exclamation, which, from the mouth of a
Senator,
obstructs an equal Representation; and, from that of an
Archbishop,
a revival of Articles, which few can believe, though so many are bound to profess.
ON THE CUSTOM OF SALUTING AFTER SNEEZING.
SOME Catholics—says Father Feyjoo—have attributed the origin of this custom to the ordinance of a Pope—Saint Gregory—who is said to have instituted a short Prayer to be used on such occasions, at a time when a Pestilence raged; the crisis of which was attended by
sneezing,
and, in most cases, followed by
death.
The Rabbins have a tale, that, before Jacob, men never sneezed but
once,
and then immediately
died:
but that that Patriarch obtained the revocation of this law; the memory of which was ordered to be preserved in
all nations,
by a command of every Prince to his subjects to employ some salutary exclamation after the act of sneezing.
These accounts are, probably, alike fabulous; the pious fictions of pious men; both because—continues Feyjoo—the enquiries of Aristotle concerning this strange circumstance, and the allusions to it in Apuleius, Petronius, Pliny, and others, prove it to have existed many ages prior to Saint Gregory; and it is related, in a Memoir of the French Academy of Sciences, to have been found practised in the New World, on the first discovery of America. This is not only said to be a fact, but some Writers also give us an amusing account of the ceremonies which attend the
sneezing
of a King of Monomotapa—Those who are near his person, when this happens, salute him in so loud a tone, that those who are in the antichamber hear it, and join in the acclamation. Those who are in the adjoining apartments do the same, until the noise reaches the street, and becomes propagated throughout the city: so that, at each sneeze of his Majesty, results a most horrid cry from the saluations of many thousands of his vassals.
That a custom, so universally prevalent, should have no plausible reason to support it, is rather curious.
'BON AVENTURES DE PERIERS.'
A HAPPY art in the relation of a story, is, doubtless, a very agreeable talent—it has obtained La Fontaine all the applause his charming
naiveté
deserves.
'
Bon Aventures de Periers, Varlet de Chambre de la Royne de Navarre,
' of whom the French have a little volume of Tales, in prose, is, in my opinion, not inferior to him in the facility and sportiveness of his vein. His style is now, in many places, obsolete; neither could we, frequently, discover his sense, without the aid of his ingenious Commentators; particularly M. de la Monnoye; from whose edition, in three volumes, I have extracted the following short Anecdote, not as the best specimen of our scarce Author, but as it introduces a novel etymology of a word in great use.
' A Student at Law, who studied at Poitiers, had tolerably improved himself in cases of Equity; not that he was overburthened with Learning, but his chief deficiency was a want of assurance and confidence to display his knowledge. His father passing by Poitiers, recommended him to read aloud, and to render his memory more prompt by a continued exercise. To obey the injunctions of his father, he determined to read at the
Ministery.
In order to obtain a certain assurance, he went every day into a garden, which was a very secret spot, being at a distance from any house, and where there grew a great number of fine large cabbages. Thus, for a long time, as he pursued his studies, he went to repeat his lesson to these cabbages, addressing them by the title of
Gentlemen
; and dealing out his sentences, as if they had composed an audience of Scholars at a Lecture. After having prepared himself thus for a fortnight or three weeks, he began to think it was high time to take the
chair
; imagining that he should be able to harangue the Scholars, as well as he had before done his cabbages. He comes forward, he begins his Oration—but, before he had said a dozen words, he remained dumb, and became so confused, that he knew not where he was: so that all he could bring out was—
Domini, Ego bene video quod non estis caules:
that is to say—for there are some who will have every thing in plain English—
Gentlemen, I now clearly see you are not cabbages.
In the
garden,
he could conceive the
cabbages
to be
Scholars
; but, in the
chair,
he could not conceive the
Scholars
to be
cabbages.
'
The hall of the School of Equity, at Poitiers, where the Institutes were read, was called
La Ministerie.
On which head, Florimond de Remond, (Book vii. Ch. 11.) speaking of Albert Babinot, one of the first disciples of Calvin, after having said he was called 'The
good Man,
' adds, that, because he had been a Student of the Institutes at this Ministerie of Poitiers, Calvin, and others, stiled him
Mr. Minister
; from whence, afterwards,
Calvin
took occasion to give the name of MINISTERS to the Pastors of his Church.
DE THOU.
DE THOU is the Livy of the French nation. I will not dwell on the purity and the elegance of his style, his deep penetration into the mysteries of the cabinets of Princes, nor on his accuracy, his impartiality, and, in a word, his historic excellence. I refer the reader, for a character of this Historian, to a paper in the Essays of the ingenious Mr. Knox. I offer only a
trait
of his eloquence; which, at once, shews the
Man
was not less amiable than the
Historian
was admirable.
' How much,' exclaims Bourbon, 'does the perusal of the History of the President De Thou make a reader wish, if he is possessed of a feeling heart, fervidly to wish, to meet in his friend a soul like his! He preserved inviolable the ties of friendship. Attentive to fill the duties which it exacts, he did not only render all the services he could to his friends, but he sought every occasion to distinguish them by praise; and he did this with such an effusion of tender sentiment, and ingenuous ardour, that Envy herself could not take offence at the eulogiums of a rival. After having filled a page with the praises of Pierre Pithou, he closes his eulogium by adding, that he would say more—if he was not his friend!'
RELIGIOUS ENMITY.
I THINK the present Article, which I have drawn from Naudé, while it contains some pleasing Anecdotes, is just and philosophical.
' When I was at Rome, I could not help telling many Devotees, that when
Religion
seizes and overpowers the Mind, it makes it consider
actions
and
characters
through the medium of interest, and hence it should not be relied on▪ For instance: the ancient Fathers have said every thing they could imagine to depreciate the character of Julian the Apostate. Though they had not done this, had he not proved an apostate and a persecutor of the Christians; they do not in the slightest manner notice his many eminent qualities. He was rigorously just, a man of strict morals, and a great politician. See what Montaigne and La Mothe le Vayer observe of him; and particularly his character, elaborately delineated by Mr. Gibbon.
It is thus also in Venice. Anthony Bragadin passes for a Martyr, because he was flayed alive at the command of Mustapha, after the taking of Famagusta. But the fact is, that the Turks are only like other men; and they thus punished Bragadin, and his other Christian Captains, because, when they saw they must be taken by Mustapha, they barbarously cut the throats of all their Turkish prisoners.
It is owing also to this cause, that the Devotees say every thing favourable of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, because she attended Mass very constantly; though it must be confessed, that her conduct was seldom regulated by decency and morality. I saw, at Rome—adds Naudé—the Letters she wrote to the Earl of Bothwell,
Subactori suo.
And I cannot but believe whatever has been said of her by Buchanan and De Thou—It is probable that Mr. Whitaker, and the
few
who are possessed with the same Quixotism, will not agree with this last sentiment of Naudé.
THE MONK TURNED AUTHOR.
THE Prior of one of the most celebrated Convents in Paris had reiteratedly intreated Varillas, the Historian, to come to examine a Work composed by one of his Monks; and of which—not being himself addicted to Letters—he wished to be governed by his opinion. Varillas at length yielded to the entreaties of the Prior; and, to regale the Critic, they laid on two tables, for his inspection, Seven enormous Volumes in Folio!!
This rather disheartened our Reviewer; but greater was his astonishment, when, having opened the first volume, he found it's title to be,
Summa Dei-parae
; and, as Saint Thomas had made a
Sum,
or System of Theology, so our Monk had formed a
Sum
of the
Virgin!
He immediately comprehended the design of our good Father, who had laboured on this Work full Thirty Years, and who boasted he had treated
Three Thousand
Questions concerning the Virgin; of which, he flattered himself, not a single one had ever yet been imagined by any one but himself!
Perhaps, a more extraordinary design was never known. Varillas, pressed to give his judgment on this Work, advised the Prior, with great prudence and good-nature, to amuse the honest old Monk with the hope of printing these Seven Folios, but always to start some new difficulties; for it would be inhuman to give so deep a chagrin to a man who had reached his 74th year, as to inform him of the nature of his favourite occupations; and that, after his death, he should throw the Volumes into the fire.
GROTIUS.
PERHAPS the most sincere Eulogium, and the most grateful to this illustrious Scholar, was that which he received at the hour of his death.
When this great Man was travelling to Holland, he was suddenly struck by the hand of Death, at the village of Rostock. The parish Minister, who was called in his last moments, ignorant who the dying man was, began to go over the trite and ordinary things said on those occasions. Grotius, who saw there was no time to lose in frivolous exhortations, as he found himself almost at the last gasp, turned to him, and told him, that he needed not those exhortations; and he concluded by saying,
Sum Grotius
—I am Grotius.
Tu magnus ille Grotius?
—'What! are you the great Grotius?' interrogated the Minister. What an Eulogium!
ON THE ADJECTIVE '
PRETTY.
'
' A young man,' says Menage, 'told me, the other day, that the
Verses
of Mr. Huet were "
pretty.
" They are more than "
pretty,
" I answered him: you are like him, who having, for the first time in his life, seen the Sea, should exclaim—it was a
pretty
thing! It was thus also a puny Officer, in talking of the Maréchal de Turenne, said he was a
pretty
Man. The father of the young Officer, who was present, turned to him, with an austerity in his countenance he was little accustomed to wear—"And you are a pretty fool,
thus
to characterize the
greatest
Man in France.' The sterling weight of words is not always known to our juvenile Critics.
A POPE's LATIN.
FAVORITI, Secretary to the late Pope, says Menage, reading to him the Latin briefs he had composed and translated for the benefit of his Holiness, who knew not a word of Latin, the Pope shed tears of joy, and exclaimed—
Care Favoriti cosa diranno di noi nella Posterità quando vederanno cosi bella Latinità nostra!
'Dear Favoriti, what will not Posterity say of
us,
when they read
our
beautiful Latin!'
ASTROLOGY.
A BELIEF in
Judicial Astrology
I conceive now to exist only in the lower classes of the people, who may be said to have no belief at all; for the sentiments of those who are incapable of
reflection,
can hardly be said to amount to a
belief.
But a faith in this ridiculous System, in our country, is of very late existence.
When Charles the First was confined, an Astrologer was consulted for what hour would be most favourable to effect his escape.
A story, which strongly proves how greatly Charles the Second was bigotted to Judicial Astrology, and whose mind was certainly not unenlightened, is recorded in Burnet's History of his own Times.
Dryden cast the nativities of his sons; and, what is remarkable, his prediction relating to his son Charles took place. This incident is of so late a date, one might hope it would have been cleared up: but, if it is a fact, we must allow it affords a rational exultation to it's irrational Adepts.
ALCHYMY.
IT was but the other day, I read an Advertisement in a Newspaper, from one who pretends to have made great discoveries in the Hermetic Art. With the assistance of 'a
little money,
' he could '
positively
' assure the lover of this Science, that he would repay him 'a
thousand fold!
' This Science, if it merits to be distinguished by the name, is most certainly an imposition; which, striking on the feeblest part of the human mind, has so frequently been successful in carrying on it's delusions.
As late as the days of Mrs. Manley, the authoress of the Atalantis, is there on record a most singular delusion of Alchymy. The recollection, whether it was herself, or another person, on whom it was practised, has now escaped me. From the circumstances, it is very probable, the Sage was not less deceived than his Patroness.
It appears, that an infatuated lover of this delusive Art met with one who pretended to have the power of transmuting Lead to Gold. This Hermetic Philosopher required only the materials, and time, to perform his golden operations. He was taken to the country residence of his Patroness: a long laboratory was built; and, that his labours might not be impeded by any disturbance, no one was permitted to enter into it. His door was contrived to turn round on a spring; so that, unseen, and unseeing, his meals were conveyed to him, without distracting the sublime contemplations of the Sage.
During a residence of two years, he never condescended to speak but two or three times in the year to his infatuated Patroness. When she was admitted into the Laboratory, she saw, with pleasing astonishment, stills, immense cauldrons, long flues, and three or four Vulcanian fires blazing at different corners of this magical mine; nor did she behold with less reverence the venerable figure of the dusty Philosopher. Pale and emaciated, with daily operations and nightly vigils, he revealed to her, in unintelligible jargon, his progresses: and, having sometimes condescended to explain the mysteries of the Arcana, she beheld, or seemed to behold, streams of fluid, and heaps of solid Ore, scattered around the laboratory. Sometimes he required a new still, and sometimes, vast quantities of lead. Already this unfortunate lady had expended the half of her fortune, in supplying the demands of the Philosopher. She began, now, to lower her imagination to the standard of Reason. Two years had now elapsed, vast quantities of lead had gone in, and nothing but lead had come out. She disclosed her sentiments to the Philosopher. He candidly confessed, he was himself surprized at his tardy processes; but that now he would exert himself to the utmost, and that he would venture to perform a laborious operation which, hitherto, he had hoped not to have been necessitated to employ. His Patroness retired, and the golden visions of Expectation resumed all their lustre.
One day, as they sat at dinner, a terrible shriek, and one crack followed by another, loud as the report of cannon, assailed their ears. They hastened to the laboratory: two of the greatest Stills had burst; one part of the laboratory was in flames, and the deluded Philosopher scorched to death!
An Author, who wrote in the year 1704, presents us with the following Anecdote, concerning an Alchymical speculation.
' The late Duke of Buckingham, being over-persuaded by a pack of knaves, who called themselves Chemical Operators, that they had the secret of producing the Philosopher's Stone, but wanted money to carry on the process; his Grace engaged to assist them with money to carry on the work, and performed his promise at a vast expence. A laboratory was built, utensils provided, and the family filled with the most famous Artists in the transmutation of Metals—Adepts of a superior class, who would concern themselves only about the grand Elixir, and a pack of shabby curs, to attend the fires, and do other servile offices; and yet, forsooth, must be also called Philosophers.
' This great charge continued upon the Duke for some years; for, whoever was unpaid, or whatever was neglected, money must be found to bear the charge of the laboratory, and pay the Operators; till this chimera, with other extravagancies, had caused the mortgaging and selling many fine Manors, Lordships, Towns, and good Farms.
' All this time, nothing was produced by these sons of Art of any value; for, either the glass broke, or the man was drunk and let out the fire, or some other misfortune, still attended the grand process, at the time assigned for a
je ne sçai quoi
to be produced, that must turn all things to gold. The Duke encountering nothing but disappointments, and the Operators finding themselves slighted, and money very difficult to be had, the project fell!'
Penotus, who died at ninety-eight years of age, in the Hospital of Sierdon in Switzerland, had spent nearly his whole life in researches after the Philosopher's Stone; and being, at length, from affluent circumstances, reduced to beggary and reason, was accustomed to say—'That if he had a mortal enemy, that he durst not encounter openly, he would advise him, above all things, to give himself up to the study and practice of Alchymy.'
Every philosophical mind must be convinced that Alchymy is not an art, which some have fancifully traced to the
remotest times
; it may be rather regarded, when opposed to such a distance of time, as a modern imposture. Caesar commanded the treatises of Alchymy to be burnt throughout the Roman dominions; and this shews the opinion of one who is not less to be admired as a Philosopher than as a Monarch.
Mr. Gibbon has this succinct passage relative to Alchymy—'The ancient books of Alchymy, so liberally ascribed to Pythagoras, to Solomon, or to Hermes, were the pious frauds of more recent adepts. The Greeks were inattentive either to the use or the abuse of Chymistry. In that immense Register, where Pliny has deposited the discoveries, the arts, and the errors, of mankind, there is not the least mention of the transmutations of metals; and the persecution of Dioclesian is the first authentic event in the history of Alchymy. The conquest of Egypt, by the Arabs, diffused that vain science over the globe. Congenial to the avarice of the human heart, it was studied in China, as in Europe, with equal eagerness and equal success. The darkness of the middle ages ensured a favourable reception to every tale of wonder; and the revival of learning gave new vigour to hope, and suggested more specious arts to deception. Philosophy, with the aid of experience, has at length banished the study of Alchymy; and the present age, however desirous of riches, is content to seek them by the humbler means of commerce and industry.'
After this, will it be credited that, even in this enlightened age, a writer should stand forth as it's advocate? Mr. Andrews, in his Anecdotes, has an article concerning Alchymy. His account of Nicholas Flamel is not accurate. He attributes 'his mysterious prosperity to that
great secret
which has been sought for through ages, and which,
to this day,
has it's
believers.
' Of these
believers,
undoubtedly, Mr. Andrews is one!
THE ATHENIAN TRIBUNAL FOR DRAMATIC COMPOSITION.
THE Athenians established a Tribunal, composed of five judges, to give their verdict on the merits of Compositions destined for the Theatre, and to decide if they deserved a public representation. The Romans had a similar Tribunal.
To give an instance of the critical severity of these judges—They even arraigned at their bar
Euripides,
to make his defence for having permitted one of his dramatic characters impiously to say, 'That he had made a vow with his tongue to the gods, but not with the intention of performing it.' Euripides defended himself, by supplicating the Critics patiently to wait till the conclusion of the piece, when they would see that character broken on the wheel.
If such a Tribunal of Criticism was established at London, it would render the stage more instructive than it is at present; we might probably have fewer wretched operas: such vapours of wit, and dregs of the imagination, would be purged away from the purity of Dramatic Composition.
THE FLORENCE PROFESSOR.
AT Florence, they have established a Professor, chosen from amongst the most eminent of the Della Crusca Academicians, who professes publicly the Italian language. It was thus, also, the Romans established a similar Student, who dedicated his life to the profession of their language.
I cannot but wish that an
Academy,
or at least a
Professorship,
were founded in England, for the preservation of our language: they might censure any faulty innovations which appeared in the style of those compositions which were likely to become extensive in their circulation. They might detect the tinsel of Della Crusca, the Gallicisms of Gibbon, and the Scotticisms of Blair, on their earliest publication. They would compel our Authors to be more vigilant; and we might thus be enabled to leave our heirs the rich inheritance of a classical style, who, in their gratitude, would recompense our labours, by delivering it down to posterity uncontaminated.
Swift, and other good judges of the purity of the English language, have testified their desire for such an establishment; and, although I have not forgotten the sentiments of Johnson on this occasion, I cannot but oppose them. Had there been such an
Academy,
or
Professorship,
founded in the days the
Rambler
was published, posterity would have read as many protests against the pedantic Latinity of his English as there are papers in that work. He seems to have been sensible, though somewhat late, of his error; for his biographical style is, indeed, a classical standard of the English language. It was
then
he most cordially praised the Addisonian periods. Akenside has committed the same violations in
verse
which Johnson has in
prose.
INEQUALITIES OF GENIUS.
WE observe frequently great Inequalities in the labours of Genius; and particularly in those which admit great enthusiasm, as in Poetry, in Painting, and in Music. But, surely, this is not difficult to be accounted for! Faultless
mediocrity
Industry can preserve in one continued degree; but
excellence
is only to be attained, by human faculties, by starts.
Our Poets who possess the greatest Genius, with, perhaps, the least industry, have at the same time the most splendid and the worst passages of poetry. Shakespeare and Dryden are at once the greatest and the least of our Poets.
The imitative powers of Pope, who possessed more Industry than Genius—though his Genius was
nearly
equal to that of the greatest Poets—has contrived to render every line faultless: yet it may be faid of Pope, that his greatest fault consists in having none.
Carrache sarcastically said of Tintoret—
Ho veduto il Tintoretto hora eguale a Titiano, hora minore del Tintoretto
—'I have seen Tintoret now equal to Titian, and now less than Tintoret.'
THE STUDENT IN THE METROPOLIS.
A MAN of Letters, who is more intent on the acquisitions of literature than on the plots of politics, or the speculations of commerce, will find a deeper solitude in a populous Metropolis than if he had retreated to the seclusion of the country. The Student, as he does not flatter the malevolent passions of men, will not be much incommoded with their presence. A letter which
Descartes
wrote to Balzac—who, incapable as he found his great soul to bend to the servilities of the courtier, was
to retire from court—will illustrate
timents with great force and vivacity.
Descartes
then resided in the commercial city of Amsterdam; and thus writes to Balzac—
' You wish to retire; and your intention is to seek the solitude of the Chartreux, or, possibly, some of the most beautiful provinces of France and Italy. I would rather advise you, if you wish to observe mankind, and at the same time to be plunged into the deepest solitude, to join me in Amsterdam. I prefer this situation to that even of your delicious villa, where I spent so great a part of the last year: for, however agreeable a country-house may be, a thousand little conveniences are wanted, which can only be found in a city. One is not alone so frequently in the country as one could wish: a number of impertinent visitors are continually besieging you. Here, as all the world, except myself, is occupied in commerce, it depends merely on myself to live unknown to the world. I walk, every day, amongst immense ranks of people, with as much tranquillity as you do in your green alleys. The men I meet with make the same impression on my mind as would the trees of your forests, or the flocks of sheep grazing on your common. The busy hum, too, of these merchants, does not disturb one more than the purling of your brooks. If sometimes I amuse myself in contemplating their anxious motions, I receive the same pleasure which you do in observing those men who cultivate your land; for I reflect, that the end of all their labours is to embellish the city which I inhabit, and to anticipate all my wants. If you see with delight the fruits of your orchards, which promise you such rich crops, do you think I feel less in observing so many fleets, that convey to me the productions of either India? What spot on earth could you find which, like this, can so interest your vanity, and gratify your taste?'
PHYSIOGNOMY AND PALMISTRY.
EVERY one seems not a little to have studied
Lavater
; so that—if the expression does not offend—most men are ashamed to shew their faces. Perhaps it is not generally known, that an ancient Greek author has written on
Physiognomy.
This work is translated into Latin by the Count Charles de Montecuculli, enriched with very learned annotations.
One Walfon assured George Weller, who published his Travels into Dalmatia, Greece, and the Levant—a very curious work—that he had purchased a chest-full of very scarce Arabic books; amongst which was a Treatise on Chiromancy, more curious than that of John Baptiste Porta; in which the author shews, that the
lines
in the hand are
letters,
of which he presents the reader with an
alphabet.
The following curious physiological definition of PHYSIOGNOMY is extracted from a Publication by Dr. Gwither, of the year 1604—
' Soft wax cannot receive more various and numerous impressions than are imprinted on a man's face by
objects
moving his affections: and not only the
objects
themselves have this power, but also the very
images
or
ideas
; that is to say, any thing that puts the animal spirits into the same motion that the
object
present did, will have the same effect with the object. To prove the first, let one observe a man's face looking on a pitiful object, then a ridiculous, then a strange, then on a terrible or dangerous object, and so forth. For the second, that
ideas
have the same effect with the
object,
dreams confirm too often.
' The manner I conceive to be thus—The animal spirits, moved in the sensory by an object, continue their motion to the brain; whence the motion is propagated to this or that particular part of the body, as is most suitable to the design of it's creation; having first made an alteration in the
face
by it's nerves, especially by the
pathetic
and
oculorum motorii
actuating it's many muscles, as the dialplate to that stupendous piece of clock-work, which shews what is to be expected next from the striking part. Not that I think the motion of the spirits in the sensory continued by the impression of the object all the way, as from a finger to the foot: I know it too weak, though the tenseness of the nerves favours it. But I conceive it done in the medulla of the brain, where is the common stock of spirits; as in an organ, whose pipes being uncovered, the air rushes into them; but the keys, let go, are stopped again. Now, if by repeated acts, or frequent entertaining of the ideas of a favourite idea of a passion or vice which natural temperament has hurried one to, or custom dragged, the
face
is so often put into that posture which attends such acts, that the animal spirits find such latent passages into it's nerves, that it is sometimes unalterably set: as the
Indian
Religious are, by long continuing in strange postures in their
Pagods.
But, most commonly, such a habit is contracted, that it falls insensibly into that posture, when some present object does not obliterate that more natural impression by a new, or dissimulation hide it.
' Hence it is that we see great
drinkers
with
eyes
generally set towards the nose, the adducent muscles being often employed to let them see their loved liquor in the glass at the time of drinking; which were, therefore, called
bibitory. Lascivious persons
are remarkable for the
Oculorum Mobilis Petulanta,
as Petronius calls it. From this also we may solve the
Quaker's
expecting face, waiting the pretended Spirit; and the melancholy face of the
Sectaries
; the
studious
face of men of great application of mind; revengeful and
bloody men,
like executioners in the act: and though silence, in a sort, may awhile pass for wisdom, yet, sooner or later, Saint Martin peeps through the disguise, to undo all. A
changeable face
I have observed to shew a
changeable mind.
But I would by no means have what has been said understood as without exception; for I doubt not but sometimes there are found men with great and virtuous souls under very unpromising outsides.'
CHARACTERS DESCRIBED BY MUSICAL NOTES.
THE present communication is made by an ingenious young friend. It is an Extract from a Volume of 'Philosophical Transactions and Collections,' published at the end of the year 1700; and the curious conjectures it contains, being perfectly novel to me—my friend observes—may, perhaps, be so to you and many others.
The idea of describing characters under the names of Musical Instruments, has been already displayed. The two most pleasing Papers which embellish the
Tatler,
are written by Addison. He there dwells on this idea with uncommon success; and it has been applauded for it's
originality.
Let it, however, be recollected, that the following Paper was published in the year 1700, and the two Numbers of Addison in the year 1710. It is probable, that this inimitable Writer borrowed his ideas from this Work. In the general Preface to the Tatler, his Papers on this similar subject are distinguished for their felicity of imagination.
' A conjecture at dispositions from the modulations of the voice.
' Sitting in some company, and having been, but a little before, musical, I chanced to take notice, that, in ordinary discourse,
words
were spoken in perfect
notes
; and that some of the company used
eighths,
some
fifths,
some
thirds
; and that his discourse which was most pleasing, his
words,
as to their tone, consisted most of
concords,
and were of
discords
of such as made up harmony. The same person was the most affable, pleasant, and best-natured, in the company. This suggests a reason, why many discourses, which one
hears
with much pleasure, when they come to be
read,
scarce seem the same things.
' From this difference of MUSIC in SPEECH, we may conjecture that of TEMPERS. We know the Doric mood sounds gravity and sobriety; the Lydian, buxomness and freedom; the Aeolic, sweet stilness and quiet composure; the Phrygian, jollity and youthful levity; the Ionic is a stiller of storms and disturbances arising from passion. And why may we not reasonably suppose, that those whose speech naturally runs into the notes peculiar to any of these moods, are likewise, in nature, hereunto congenerous?
C Fa ut,
may shew me to be of an ordinary capacity, though good disposition.
G Sol re ut,
to be peevish and effeminate.
Flats,
a manly or melancholic sadness. He who hath a voice which will, in some measure, agree with all
cliffs,
to be of good parts, and fit for variety of employments, yet somewhat of an inconstant nature. Likewise from the TIMES: so
semi-briefs,
may speak a temper dull and phlegmatic;
minums,
grave and serious;
crotchets,
a prompt wit;
quavers,
vehemency of passion, and scolds use them.
Semi-brief-rest,
may denote one either stupid, or fuller of thoughts than he can utter;
minum-rest,
one that deliberates;
crotchet-rest,
one in a passion. So that, from the natural use of MOOD, NOTE, and TIME, we may collect DISPOSITIONS.'
SCRIPTURE EXPRESSIONS DERIVED FROM CUSTOMS.
IT was an ancient ceremony of the Jews, which yet is religiously observed amongst them, to tear their cloaths in mourning and affliction. Some Orientals still practise this custom, when any thing uncommonly distressful happens. The Jews make use of much ceremony on this occasion—Sometimes, they tear from the top to the bottom; and sometimes, from the bottom to the top. The rent must be of a particular length. When it is done for the loss of parents, it is never sewed; for the loss of other persons, it is sewed at the end of thirty days. This piece of religious mummery, if it is of no other value, will at least serve to explain a passage, in which Solomon, in his Proverbs, says, that '
There is a time to rend, and a time to sew.
' Which means, there is a time for affliction, and a time for consolation. Many of the Scripture-phrases, that appear unintelligible, are founded on Jewish customs.
Mr. Bruce, in his Travels, observed in a cavalcade, the head-dress of the Governors of Provinces. A large broad fillet was bound upon their forehead, and tied behind their head. In the middle of this was a HORN, or a conical piece of silver, gilt, much in the shape of our candle-extinguishers. This is called
Kirn,
or
Horn,
and is only worn in reviews, or public rejoicings for victory. This custom, borrowed from the Hebrews, our Traveller conceives, will explain the several allusions made to it in Scripture. 'I said unto fools, deal not foolishly; and to the wicked, lift not up the HORN—Lift not up your HORN on high; speak not with a stiff neck—But my HORN shalt thou exalt like the horn of an unicorn—And the HORN of the righteous shall be exalted with honour.' And thus in many other places throughout the Psalms.
A VISIONARY's BOOK.
I GIVE the singular title of a Work, which is looked upon as the most extravagant production that has ever been published. It has given birth to a great number of dissertations concerning it's subject, it's meaning, and it's Author. The last alone seems to have been discovered, who confesses he neither knew to
write
or
read,
but acknowledges himself to have been guided by the inspirations of God and the Angels.
' Les Oeuvres de Bernard de Bluet d'Arberes, Comte de Permission, Chevalier des Ligues des XIII Cantons Suisses; et le dit Comte de Permission vous avertit qu'il ne sçait ny lire ny écrire, et n'y a jamais apris; mais par l'inspiration de Dieu et conduite des Anges et pour la bonté et misericorde de Dieu; et le tout sera dedié à hault et puissant Henry de Bourbon, Roi de France, grand Empereur Théodore premier fils de l'Eglise, Monarque des Gaules, le premier du Monde, par la grace, bonté, et miséricorde de Dieu, le premier jour de Mai l'an 1600.'
Among the great number of writers who have attempted to discover the sense of the Enigmas, and the foolish and extravagant Visions with which this Work is loaded, there have been some, who imagined that they perceived many remarkable events, which were predicted in this Book. Others have led their imagination to behold it in another point of view; and there have been even Chymists, who have pretended to say, that the great secret of the Philosophical Stone was there concealed under mysterious phrases.
' If it is difficult'—says De Bure—'to give a just idea of this extravagant Work, it is, however, more easy to inform the reader of it's rarity. It has been long known amongst the Literary
Connoisseurs
; and it is certain, that nothing is more difficult than to find a compleat copy. Some curious Collectors have endeavoured, by sacrificing a great number of copies, to join it's separate parts; but they have always found their endeavours frustrated. This mysterious Work seems to have a mysterious conclusion.
This rare Volume Consists—according to the most compleat Copy extant—of one hundred and three fugitive and separate Pieces, which the Author caused, himself, to have printed, and which he distributed, himself, in streets, and houses, to those persons who made him some pecuniary present, as he himself informs us, by the acknowledgments which he makes in some of his pieces; where he puts not only the name and the quality of those to whom he presented them, but also the sums which he received from each individual.'
The Abbé Ladvocat has given the following succinct account of this man—'He knew the art of gaining his livelihood by distributing his extravagancies to whoever he found was willing to purchase them. They contain orations, sentences, but more frequently prophecies. Many have ill-spent their time in explaining the mysteries of his work; and, as is usual in these cases, every one found what he sought: but the truth is, they are visions which come from a head less ridiculous than those of the persons who received them with respect, and recompensed them with their money, unless they were guided to act thus by the benevolence of Charity.'
After what has been laid before the reader, will it be believed that a compleat collection of the Comte de Permission's absurdities would fetch a very high price among a certain class of
Literati?
It happens, however, that his
leaves,
which resemble in their design those of the Roman
Sybils,
are as difficult to be found. There are men who display a rich fund of
Erudition
only by studying
Catalogues
; and feel themselves as much enchanted by the
rarity
of an exerable book, as some by the
rarity
of fine writing!
IMPOSITIONS OF AUTHORS.
THERE have been some Authors who have practised singular Impositions on the public. Varillas, the French Historian, enjoyed for some time a great reputation in his own country for his Historic Compositions. When they became more known, the scholars of other countries destroyed the reputation he had unjustly acquired. 'His continual professions of sincerity prejudiced many in his favour, and made him pass for a writer who had penetrated into the inmost recesses of the cabinet: but the public were at length undeceived, and were convinced that the Historical Anecdotes, which Varillas put off for authentic facts, had no foundation, being wholly his own inventing!—though he endeavoured to make them pass for realities, by affected citations of titles, instructions, letters, memoirs, and relations, all of them imaginary!'
Melchisedec Thevenot, Librarian to the French king, was never out of Europe; yet he has composed some folio volumes of his 'Voyages and Travels,' by information and memoirs, which he collected from those who had travelled. 'Travels,' observes the Compiler of the Biographical Dictionary, 'related at second hand, can never be of any great authority or moment.' Assuredly not; but they may be pregnant with errors of all kinds.
Gemelli Carreri, a Neapolitan gentleman, who, for many years, never quitted his chamber, being confined by a tedious indisposition, amused himself with writing a voyage round the world; giving characters of Men, and descriptions of Countries, as if he had really visited them. Du Halde, who has written so voluminous an account of China, compiled it from the Memoirs of the Missionaries, and never travelled ten leagues from Pairs in his life; though he appears, by his writings, to be very familiar with the Chinese scenery.
This is an excellent observation of an anonymous Author. '
Writers
who never visited foreign countries, and
Travellers
who have run through immense regions with fleeting pace, have given us long accounts of various Countries and People; evidently collected from the idle reports and absurd traditions of the ignorant vulgar, from whom only they could have received those relations which we see accumulated with such undiscerning credulity.'
TRANSLATION.
THE following observations on
Translation
are offered to our modern
doers into English.
To whom I am indebted for this article, has escaped my recollection.
To render a
Translation
perfect, it is necessary to attend to these rules.—The Translator must possess a thorough knowledge of the two Languages. He must be exact, not only in giving the thoughts of his Author, but even his own words, when they become essential and necessary. He must preserve the spirit and peculiar genius of his Author. He must distinguish every character by it's manners and it's nature, by unfolding the senfe and the words with suitable phrases and parallel expressions. He must yield beauties by other beauties, and figures by other figures, whenever the idiom of Language does not admit of a close version. He must not employ long Sentences, unless they serve to render the sense more intelligible, and the diction more elegant. He must attempt a neatness in his manner; and, to effect this, he must know skilfully to contract or enlarge his Periods. He must unite the too concise Sentences of his Author, if his style, like that of Tacitus, be close and abrupt. He must not only sedulously attempt precision and purity of diction, but he must strive also to embellish his version with those graces and images which frequently lie so closely hidden, that nothing but a familiar conversancy with his Author can discover them. And, lastly, he must present us with the sentiments of his Author, without a servile attachment to his words or phrases, but rather, according to his spirit and his genius.
A Translator is a Painter who labours after an original. He must carefully reveal the
traits
of his model. He copies, he does not compose. Whenever he trespasses on his limits, he ceases to be a
Translator,
and becomes an
Author.
THE ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICAL LITERATURE.
THE Newspapers of the present day, contrasted with their original models, have attained a degree of excellence which is flattering to modern industry to contemplate. While political events are registered with a celerity unknown to our ancestors, the sentiments of liberty are disseminated in the warm impression of the moment. The frivolous pursuits of the age offer an ample field to those who can point with force the keenness of Ridicule. Fashion, however versatile, cannot escape the eye of the satirist; and the follies of the night are chronicled for the sober contemplation of the morning. Literature has been called in to embellish these diurnal pages; and it has given a stability and perfection of which the evanescent nature of such productions was hardly thought susceptible. It is, however, a melancholy truth, that such excellent purposes have been frustrated by a vile spirit of faction; a spirit that, according to the sensible
Rapin,
will sooner overturn the English Constitution than the united efforts of our most powerful enemies. But such discussions we leave to the sagacious politicians.
Periodical Papers seem first to have been used by the English during the Civil Wars of the usurper Cromwell, to disseminate amongst the people the sentiments of Loyalty or Rebellion, according as their Authors were disposed. We seem to have been obliged to the Italians for the idea; and, perhaps, it was their
Gazettas
—from
Gazzera,
a magpie or chatterer—which have given a name to these Papers. Honest
Peter Heylin,
in the preface to his
Cosmography,
mentions that—'the affairs of each Town, or War, were better presented to the reader in the
Weekly News-Books.
' In their origin they were solely devoted to political purposes: but they soon became a public nuisance, by serving as receptacles of party malice, and echoing to the farthest ends of the kingdom the insolent voice of Faction. They set the minds of Men more at variance, enflamed their tempers to a greater fierceness, and gave a keener edge to the sharpness of civil discord.
It is to be lamented, that such works will always find writers adapted to their scurrilous purposes; but of a vast crowd that issued from the press, though little more than a century has elapsed, they are now not to be found but in a few private Collections. They form a race of Authors unknown to most readers of these times: the name of their Chief, however, has just reached us, but is on the point of disappearing.
Sir
Roger L'Estrange,
who appears to have greatly surpassed his rivals, and to have been esteemed as the most perfect model of political writing, merits little praise. The temper of the man was factious and brutal, and the compositions of the Author very indifferent. In his multifarious productions, and meagre translations, we discover nothing that indicates one amiable sentiment, to compensate for a barbarous diction, and a heavy load of political trash. His attempts at Wit are clumsy exertions; the aukward efforts of a German who labours on a delicate toy. When he assumes the gravity of the sage, he seems more fortunate in extorting a laugh; burlesquing the most solemn reflections by quaint and uncouth expression.
In the reign of
Queen Anne
—not unjustly characterized by being distinguished as the Augustan Age of English Literature—Periodical Prints, that till then had only served political purposes, began to rank higher in the estimation of the Public. Some had already attempted to introduce literary subjects, and other topics of a more general speculation. But we see nothing that has escaped the waste of time, till
Sir Richard Steele
formed the plan of his
Tatler.
He designed it to embrace the three provinces, of Manners, of Letters, and of Politics. He knew that this was an invaluable improvement; and, doubtless, he thought, that if the last portion could be omitted, it would still have made it more perfect. But violent and sudden reformation is seldom to be used; and the Public were to be conducted insensibly into so new and different a track from that to which they had been hitherto accustomed. Hence Politics were admitted into his Paper. But it remained for the chaster genius of
Addison
to banish this disagreeable topic from his elegant pages. The writer in Polite Letters felt himself degraded by sinking into the dull narrator of Political Events. It is from this time, that Newspapers and periodical Literature became distinct works.
LITERARY COMPOSITION.
IN a little Tract, printed in 1681, is to be found some curious literary information. The ingenious author attempts to mark out the most profitable way of reading and writing books. He first informs us of various voluminous writers; of some, so infected with the
cacoethes scribendi,
that they have composed from six to seven thousand volumes! He then notices vast libraries; such as that of Ptolomy, King of Egypt, which was said to contain four hundred thousand; or, as others write, seven hundred thousand volumes: and also that of the younger Theodosius at Constantinople, containing ten myriads of books.
He reflects that, since the invention of printing, an Author can publish as much in
one day
as he has composed in
one year.
He laments, that these multifarious volumes may prove prejudicial to the Student; that such a continued novelty of matter will render his knowledge less clear and digested than before this invention took place: though he is willing to allow that this evil originates rather from the ill use made of books, than from their number.
He complains—a complaint, I fear, which must ever exist—that the press is continually pouring forth trivial, crude, and useless performances: yet he observes—'If men would take care that ill books be not written, and that good books be not ill written, but that in their composition a due regard be always had to
prudence, solidity, perspicuity,
and
brevity,
there would be no cause left for us to complain of the too great number of books.'
By the idea of
prudence,
he would have us understand, that an Author should never rashly or inconsiderately apply himself to composition: let him learn well what he purposes to teach to others. The greatest Scholars have always taken time to make their compositions approach perfection. Isocrates spent ten, or, as some will have it, fifteen years, in polishing one Panegyric. Dion Cassius employed twelve years in writing his History, and ten years in preparing his Memoirs. Virgil employed seven years to finish his Bucolics; and, after a labour of eleven years, pronounced his Aeneid imperfect. Jacobus Sannazarius wrote three books
de Partu Virginis,
and dedicated twenty years to this labour. Diodorus Siculus was thirty years in composing his History. Hence he advises writers to reflect on the reply of Zeuxis to one who boasted of a more fluent hand in painting—
Diu pingo, quia eternitati pingo
—'I paint but a line every day; but I paint for posterity.'
In works of importance, he would have us be studious of what he calls
solidity.
He means, that our arguments should be forcibly urged, and skilfully applied; that every thing we write tend to shew that we feel ourselves the conviction of what we would convince our reader; that nothing be feeble, doubtful, or frivolous; that truth be firm, clear, and as indisputable as possible. 'Not,' as he candidly remarks, 'that this
solidity
can be every where observed alike, it being above the infirmity of man so to do; but men should be very wary not to flatter themselves that others will believe their bare say-so's.'
By
perspicuity,
he requires that the style serve like a mirror to the mind of the Author; so that the sense may be lucidly presented to the reader. As for those Authors who are pleased to throw over their compositions an affected obscurity, he shrewdly remarks, that they might gratify their humour and the world much better by remaining silent.
Lastly, he would not have
perspicuity
so far indulged as to neglect
brevity.
'For, as obscurity makes a book useless; so, if drawn out in length, it becomes tedious.' To observe this
brevity,
he advises the writer not to give into wild digressions, but always 'to keep close to his main subject;' to reject, as much as possible, trite sentiments and familiar arguments; to be sparing of an idle amplification of words; and, in controversy, not so much to combat his adversaries by number as by weight of argument.
To close this slight Review, which, I hope, will not be found unuseful, he exhorts the ingenuous youth not to delight in a multiplicity of authors; to be select in his choice, and then studiously to unite himself to those authors whom he finds most congenial to his own dispositions. An excellent rule this! And, to conclude with a verse from the Earl of Roscommon—
To chuse an Author as he would a Friend.
For the benefit of young Authors, I will add the advice of a Veteran on Publication—
Menage observes, that the works which are most
generally
liked, give a more extensive reputation than the most excellent ones, which are only relished by a few connoisseurs. The dishes at a feast should rather be seasoned to the taste of the invited than to that of the cooks, however able they may be: for, as Martial says—
— Coenae fercula nostrae
Malim Convivis, quam placuisse Cocis.
To give a work which may be crowned with the approbation of the public, it must be read
three times:
the first, perfectly to understand it; the second, to criticise it; and the third, to correct it.
VIRGIL.
VIRGIL has violated the immutable laws of common sense, which exist in full force in all ages, and in all countries, by his ridiculous Miracles, which are not less insupportable than those which the ancient Chroniclers relate of their Saints. Among these, we may observe, is that of transforming into the Leaves of a Tree, of which Polydore is the Root, the Lances with which Polymnestor had pierced him in the third book of the Aeneid; in making the branch of a tree produce a Golden Bough, in the sixth; and in metamorphosing into Sea Nymphs, in the eleventh book, the Ships of Aeneas, which were set on fire. The least judicious of his admirers would even defend these miracles: surely, these fictions are not miraculous, but ridiculous, and only serve to blemish so beautiful a composition!
We must also condemn, in Virgil, that cruel Piety by which he has distinguished Aeneas, in causing him to immolate eight persons on the funeral-pile of Pallas. The example of Homer, which he has here followed, cannot excuse a barbarity which shocks our feelings. This cruel action was characteristic of the furious Achilles in the circumstance of the death of Patroclus, but should not have been performed by the pious Aeneas. Besides, Virgil, who had more judgment than Homer, and who lived in a more polished age, is less excuseable in having made his Hero commit so barbarous an action.
In the fourth book of the Aeneid, we are compelled to animadvert on another sault, which pains our sensibility. In that book, where the Poet expresses so well the madness of a despairing Lover, Aeneas appears by much too cold; and his excuses are, indeed, not very ingenious for his desertion of Dido—in a word, not a little unfeeling. To all the reproaches of the passionate and tender Queen he has only to oppose the orders of Jupiter, and the severity of his sate. He cannot doubt of the extreme violence of her passion; and he must necessarily know to what an excess a woman of her fervid spirit, who pretended to be united to him as his wife, would carry it: yet he
sleeps,
in the most perfect tranquillity, in his vessel, till Mercury awakens him.
Some of his adventures seem copies of each other. Sinon and Acheminedes present themselves to the Trojans on two very different occasions, but in nearly a similar manner. The one in his second book, and the other in the third, say the same things. The descriptions of the tempests too frequently resemble each other; and they begin two or three times by the same verses. This beautiful verse—
Obstupui, Steteruntque comae et vox faucibus haesit,
is too often repeated. There are also
contradictions
; which, probably, he would have corrected, had he lived.
He relates, in the fifth book, the circumstances of the death of Palinurus in one manner; and Palinurus himself, in the sixth, relates it differently. In one, it is the god of Sleep, under the figure of Phorbas, who having caused the pilot to fall asleep, precipitates him and the rudder into the sea; in the other, it is a gale of wind that carries them both away. In one place, Palinurus is swallowed up in a profound sleep by the sea; in the other, he is perfectly awake, and has time to reflect that the ship will now wander without a pilot.
Virgil should not have caused Aeneas to return from Hell by the gate of
Ivory,
but by that of
Horn.
By employing here the gate of Ivory, from whence issued fables and fictions, formed at pleasure—
Sed falsa ad Coelum mittunt insomnia manes
—is it not destroying, at a single stroke, the whole that he has been recounting in that incomparable book; and tacitly informing Augustus, that all he had imagined most flattering for him and his anceftors is nothing but a mere idle fiction?
In the second book of the Aeneid, Ascanius appears a little child, led by the hand of his father: he could not have attained to more than seven years. In the third, Andromache, calling to mind Astyanax her son, and addressing herself to Ascanius, says—'Were he living, he would now, like you, have reached the age of puberty—
Et nunc aequali tecum pubesceret oevo.
Ascanius was not, then, a child, before he went to Africa? Yet Virgil makes him again but seven years in his fourth book, when Dido holds Cupid in her lap, who had assumed his figure: yet, in the
very same book,
he is represented, not as a
child,
but as a young and vigorous
man,
in a hunting-match, of which he gives a description.
These things are very irregular and dissimilar: contradictions which are very material, and which cannot be reconciled. Virgil, on his death-bed, commanded his friends to burn his Aeneid. The great Poet was conscious of it's unfinished state. Fortunately for posterity, they did not in this respect obey the injunctions of their dying friend. The loss had, indeed, been irreparable.
Let it not be considered, that I have collected these criticisms to diminish the reputation of Virgil. His laurels are placed for above the reach of envy. I am no Lauder; no Heron; but it is alone by an enlightened criticism, and by contemplating the errors of our Masters, that we may hope, if we but faintly attain to their beauties, at least to escape from their errors.
We can, however, defend Virgil from a censure which attacks at once the Poet and the Man. The Cardinal Sirlet, Turnebus, Muret, Taubman, Julius Scaliger, and others not less eminent, are much astonished that Virgil, in his sixth book of the Aeneid, describing the Laurel Grove which he has assigned for the residence of the Poets, makes no mention of Homer. On this they have taxed Virgil with ingratitude and envy; since here an occasion presented itself so favourably to bestow a beautiful eulogium on Homer, to whom he stood so deeply indebted; and they have been astonished why he preferred to do this honour to the ancient Musaeus. But this censure is very unjust, and could only be occasioned by not reflecting sufficiently on the order of time. Let us consider, that Virgil only follows his Hero: if he speaks of Musaeus, it is that he had no other design but to mention those Poets who died before the taking of Troy. He was too judicious, to cause Aeneas to relate that he had seen Homer amongst the Poets, who was not born till at least one hundred and sixty years after the destruction of Troy.
Virgil, in the second book of the Georgics, has bestowed high eulogiums on the fertile territory of Nole, in Campania: but, the inhabitants of this city not chusing to allow their waters to run through his lands, he erased
Nole,
and put
Ora
in it's place. So dreadful is the vengeance of a Poet!
The Banquet which Alcinous gives Ulysses, in the Odyssey, is very beautiful, and perfectly gallant: but it appears there are none but men present. That with which Dido entertains Aeneas is not by any means comparable to it in festal elegance. In one, they sing the adventures of the Gods, and other themes, not less agreeable than gallant: in the other, they sing concerning the stars, and other philosophical matters. Let the festive splendours of Alcinous be removed to the Court of Carthage, and the feast of Dido to the Pheacian Island; and every thing will then be in character.
To this article may be added an account of a thirteenth book of the Aeneid. A Poet, named
Maphaeus Vegius Laudanensis
—so Naudé writes it, but I observe his Commentator tells us it should be
Laudensis
—was born at Lodi, in the year 1407. At sixteen years of age, he gave evident marks of an excellent genius. What is most remarkable of him, is, that he has with great felicity added a thirteenth book to the Aeneid. Has this book ever been translated into English verse?
MILTON.
IT is painful to observe the acrimony which the most eminent Scholars infuse frequently in their controversial writings. The politeness of the present times has, in some degree, softened the malignity of the Man in the dignity of the Author; though it must be confessed there are living writers who pride themselves on being—as they express it—of the Warburtonian School; but who display the asperity rather than the erudition of a Warburton.
The celebrated controversy of
Salmasius
and
Milton
—the first, the advocate of King Charles; the other, the defender of the People—was of that magnitude, that all Europe took a part in the paper-war of these two great men. The answer of Milton, who perfectly massacred Salmasius, is now read but by the few. Whatever is addressed to the times, however great may be it's merit, is doomed to perish with the times; yet, on these Pages, the Philosopher will not contemplate in vain.
It will form no uninteresting article to gather a few of the rhetorical
weeds
—for
flowers
we cannot well call them—with which they mutually presented each other. Their rancour was at least equal to their condition, though they were the two most learned Scholars of a learned Age.
That the deformity of the body is an idea we attach to the deformity of the mind, the vulgar must acknowledge; but surely it is unpardonable in the enlightened Philosopher thus to compare corporeal matter with intellectual spirit: yet Milbourne and Dennis—the last a formidable Critic—have frequently considered, that comparing Dryden and Pope to whatever the eye turned from with disgust, was very good argument to lower their literary abilities. Salmasius seems also to have entertained this idea, though his spies in England gave him wrong information; or, possibly, he only drew the figure of his own distempered imagination.
Salmasius sometimes reproaches Milton, as being but a puny piece of Man; a dwarf deprived of the human figure; a being composed of nothing but skin and bone; a contemptible pedagogue, fit only to flog his boys: and sometimes elevating the ardour of his mind into a poetic frenzy, he applies to him these words of Virgil—'
Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.
' Our great Poet thought this senseless declamation merited a serious refutation; perhaps he did not wish to appear despicable in the eyes of the Ladies. If the great Johnson could express his pleasure at learning that Milton wore latchets to his shoes, his admirers must be interested in this description of himself. He says, that he does not think any one ever considered him as unbeautiful; that his size rather approached mediocrity than the diminutive; that he still felt the same courage and the same strength which he possessed when young, when, with his sword, he felt no difficulty to combat with men more robust than himself; that his face, far from being pale, emaciated, and wrinkled, did him much credit; for though he had passed his fortieth year, he was in all other respects ten years younger. For all this he called for testimony on multitudes; who, though they knew him but by sight, would hold him ridiculous if he did not reveal the truth.
Morus, in his Epistle Dedicatory of his
Clamor Regii Sanguinis,
compares Milton to a Hangman: his disordered vision to the blindness of his soul; and vomits forth so much rancour and venom, that to collect his calumnies ceases to become an amusive employment.
When Salmasius found that his strictures on the person of Milton were false, and that, on the contrary, it was uncommonly beautiful, he then turned his battery against those graces with which Nature had so liberally adorned his adversary. And it is now that he seems to have set no restrictions to his pen; but, raging with the irritation of Milton's success, he throws out the blackest calumnies, and the most infamous aspersions.
It must be observed, when Milton first proposed to answer Salmasius, he had lost the use of one of his eyes; and his physicians declared, that if he applied himself to the controversy, the other would likewise close for ever! His patriotism was not to be baffled but with life itself. Unhappily, the prediction of his physicians took place! Thus a learned man, in the occupations of study, falls blind; a circumstance which even now agonizes the heart of Sensibility. Salmasius considers it as one from which he may draw caustic ridicule, and satiric severity.
Salmasius glories that Milton lost his health and his eyes in answering his apology for King Charles! He does not now reproach him with natural deformities; but he malignantly sympathizes with him, that he now no more is in possession of that beauty which rendered him so amiable during his residence in
Italy.
He speaks more plainly in a following page; and, in a word, would blacken the austere virtue of Milton with a crime too infamous to name.
Impartiality of Criticism obliges us to confess, that Milton was not destitute of rancour. And, when it was told him that his adversary boasted he had occasioned the loss of his eyes, he answered, with the ferocity of the irritated Puritan—'
And I shall cost him his life!
' A prediction which was soon after verified: for Christina, Queen of Sweden, withdrew her patronage from Salmasius, and sided with Milton. The universal neglect the proud Scholar felt, in consequence, hastened his death.
The story of his expulsion from Cambridge was not forgotten—nor forgotten to be aggravated. Milton denies this, and relates it in a manner honourable to himself. Salmasius assures his reader, that those who well knew Milton affirm, that he was incapable of Latin composition; but—in his manner of raillery—he confesses Milton to be an extraordinary Poet; and this he maintains by pointing out how frequently he violates, in his Latin verses, the laws of quantity. He adds, that the Author might have spared himself the pains of indicating his Age; for, without this aid, his reader must have been convinced that they were the compositions of the raw Scholar. To close the virulence of his invectives, he tells us, that Milton's book is written by a French schoolmaster in London, and that he only lent his name.
What Patin writes in his Letters, in the same times, will shew what lame reports the enemies of Milton helped about. He writes—'Monsieur de la Mothe le Vaier informs me, that the book of Milton against the King of England has been burnt by the common hangman—in Paris: that Milton is in prison; and, it is to be hoped, will be hung. Some say that Milton wrote this Book in English; and that a Peter de Moulin, who has put it into such fine Latin, is in danger, for his pains, of being burnt.' This is in the usual style of Patin's correspondence; some truth, with much fiction. Moulin was a Confessor of the Royal party; and was, on the contrary, a favourite with our second Charles; and who, having written against the Rebels, was one of the few whose fidelity he rewarded.
It is raking in offals to transcribe from the infamous
Lauder.
His virulence, however, cannot now irritate; it may amuse. He seems to have poached in Salmasius for Epithets. His Pamphlets, with the common lyes of the day, have met the common fate. The present paragraph is an odd mixture of pedantry, of vile composition, and viler abuse.
' Milton, whom the present generation of Writers, if they do not on some occasions
exeem
from some human frailties and imperfections, have yet in the main conspired to daub with the
untempered mortar
of
unbounded
praise. By representing him as all perfect, all excellent, without the least mixture of alloy, was rather
a devil
incarnate: an abandoned
Monster
of mankind, of insatiable
avarice,
unbounded
ambition,
implacable
malice,
unparalleled
impudence,
and shocking
impiety.
" Such is the declamation which
Lauder,
in the present day, had the audacity to acknowledge as his own composition.
We will close this Article with Bayle's Review of Milton's Controversial Latin Writings, for of no others he pretended to judge. 'Milton is very expert in the Latin language. No one can deny that his style is flowing, animated, and flowery; and that he has defended the people adroitly and ingeniously. But, without entering too deeply into this subject, it must be confessed, that his manner is exceptionable; it is not sufficiently serious for the importance of his subject. We see him at every moment—I do not say pouring forth sharp railleries against Mr. Salmasius; that would not injure his Work, but gain the laughers on his side—attempting to be farcical, and to play off the buffoon. This censure particularly extends to his two answers of Mr. Morus. They are replete with outrageous jests. The character of the Author here appears without a mask; he is one of those satiric geniuses, who, indeed, are too fond of collecting all the disadvantageous reports of others, and of having written, by the enemies of another, all the calumnies they know; but who feel a greater gratification to insert those calumnies in the first libel they publish against any one.'
I hope this heavy charge laid to our great Poet is not just. He felt great provocations from Salmasius and Morus; and he was deeply concerned in one of the greatest political revolutions. Surely, the sublime conceptions of Milton could not descend to collect the tattle of Scandal. To do this, one must have a mind as little, and a heart as rancorous, as some of our modern versificators.
ARABIC PROVERBS.
There are persons who set out vigorously, but soon flag, and go back; like a star which promises rain, and immediately leaves the sky clear.
This poetical thought Schultens interprets of such as make large promises, and even design to execute them, but fall short for want of constancy and resolution.
Every one living is cut down by Death: happy the man who is mowed down green!
This beautiful sentiment requires no illustration.
Why are you displeased at the words of one who advises with sincerity; since such a person mends your torn cloaths?
Here it is observed, that
mending what is torn,
is applied, in a figurative sense, to the ill condition of the mind.
The cure of a proud man is performed by driving out his buzzing fly, and taking Satan out of his nostrils.
Here Schultens remarks, that the noisy boastings of the haughty Man are beautifully represented by the troublesome and insignificant buzzing of a large fly.
The dam of the
roaring BEAST
is not very prolific; but the dam of the
barking BEAST
produces many whelps.
By the
roaring Beast,
is here meant the
Lion
; by the
barking Beast,
the
Dog.
The sense of the Proverb is—That persons of great and elevated accomplishments are but few; those of a contrary character, very numerous.
CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.
HISTORICAL ANECDOTES.
TRIALS AND PROOFS OF GUILT IN SUPERSTITIOUS AGES.
IT is a melancholy contemplation, to reflect on the strange trials to which, in the remoter ages, those suspected of guilt were put. The Ordeal consisted of various kinds: walking blindfold amidst heated plough-shares; passing through two fires; holding in the hand a redhot bar; and plunging the hand into boiling water. Challenging the accuser to single combat, when frequently the stoutest champion was allowed to supply their place; the swallowing a morsel of consecrated bread; the sinking or swimming in a river for witchcraft; and various others. Though sometimes these might be eluded by the artifice of the priest, what numbers of innocent victims have been sacrificed to such barbarous superstitions!
In the twelfth century, they were very common. Hildebert, Bishop of Mans, being accused of high-treason by our William Rufus, was preparing to undergo one of these trials; when Ives, Bishop of Chartres, convinced him that they were against the canons of the constitutions of the church.
An Abbot of Saint Aubin of Angers, who lived in 1066, having refused to present a horse to the Viscount of Touars, which the Viscount claimed in right of his lordship, whenever an Abbot first took possession of the said abbey; the Ecclesiastic offered to justify himself by the trial of the ordeal, or by duel, for which he proposed to furnish a man. The Viscount, at first, agreed to the duel; but, reflecting that these combats, though sanctioned by the church, depended wholly on the skill or vigour of the adversary, and could therefore afford no substantial proof of the equity of his claim, he proposed to compromise the matter in a manner which strongly characterizes the times: he waved his claim, on condition that the Abbot should not forget to mention, in his prayers, himself, his wife, and his brothers! As the
orisons
appeared to the Abbot, in comparison with the
horse,
of little or no value, he accepted the proposal.
Pope Eugene approved of, and even introduced, the trial by immersion in cold water.
It was about that time, also, that those who were accused of robbery, were put to trial by a piece of barley bread, on which the mass had been said; and, if they could not swallow it, they were declared guilty. This mode of trial was improved, by adding to the
bread
a slice of
cheese
; and such were the credulity and firm dependence on Heaven in these ridiculous trials, that they were very particular in the composition of this holy
bread
and
cheese.
The bread was to be of unleavened barley, and the cheese made of ewe's milk of the month of May, no other of the twelve months having any power to detect a criminal.
Du Cange has observed, that the expression we long have employed—'
May this piece of bread choak me!
' comes from this custom.
The anecdote of Earl Godwin's death by swallowing a piece of bread, in making this asseveration, is recorded in our history. If it be true, it was a singular misfortune.
Voltaire says, that they were acquainted in those times with
secrets
to pass, unhurt, these singular trials. He particularly mentions one for undergoing that of boiling water. These are his words—'The whole secret is said to consist in rubbing one's self a long time with the spirit of vitriol and allum, together with the juice of an onion. None of the Academies of Science, in our days, have attempted to verify, by experiments, a truth well known to quacks and mountebanks.'
But, amongst these trials, not the least ridiculous was that of
the bleeding of a corpse.
If a person was murdered, it was said that, at the touch, or at the approach, of the murderer, the blood gushed out of the body in various parts. This was once allowed in England; and is still looked on, in some of the uncivilized parts of these kingdoms, as a detection of the criminal. It forms a rich picture to the imagination of our old writers; and their narrations and ballads are laboured into pathos by dwelling on this phenomenon. Yet, what is this evidence in the eyes of the enlightened philosopher? It does not always happen in the presence of the murderer; it bleeds suddenly in that of the innocent: and is it not natural to suppose, that 'when a body is full of blood, warmed by a sudden external heat, having been considerably stirred or moved, and a putrefaction coming on, some of the blood-vessels should burst, as it is certain they all will in time?'
For this last ingenious remark I am indebted to the Encyclopedia Britannica.
SINGULARITIES OBSERVED BY VARIOUS NATIONS IN THEIR REPASTS.
I HAVE collected from a very curious book, entitled—'
L'Esprit des Usages et des Coutumes,
' the greater part of the present article.
The Maldivian Islanders eat alone. They retire into the most hidden parts of their houses; and they draw down the cloths that serve as blinds to their windows, that they may eat unobserved. This custom probably arises—remarks our philosophic Author—from the Savage, in the early periods of society, concealing himself to eat: he fears that another, with as sharp an appetite, but more strong than himself, should come and ravish his meal from him. Besides, the ideas of Witchcraft are widely spread among Barbarians; and they are not a little fearful that some incantation may be thrown amongst their victuals.
In noticing the solitary meal of the Maldivian Islander, another reason may be alledged for this misanthropical repast. They never will eat with any one who is inferior to them in birth, in riches, or dignity; and, as it is a difficult matter to settle this equality, they are condemned to lead this unsociable life.
On the contrary, the Islanders of the Philippines are remarkably sociable. Whenever one of them finds himself without a companion to partake of his meal, he runs till he meets with one; and, we are assured, that however keen his appetite may be, he ventures not to satisfy it without a guest.
Savages, (says Montaigne) when they eat, '
S'essuyent les doigts oux cuisses, à la bourse des génitoires, et à la plante des pieds.
' It is impossible to translate this passage without offending feminine delicacy; nor can we forbear exulting in the polished convenience of napkins!
The tables of the rich Chinese shine with a beautiful varnish, and are covered with silk carpets very elegantly worked. They do not make use of plates, knives, or forks: every guest has two little ivory or ebony sticks, which he handles very adroitly.
The Otaheiteans, who are lovers of society, and very gentle in their manners, feed separate from each other. At the hour of repast, the members of each family divide; two brothers, two sisters, and even husband and wife, father and mother, have each their respective basket. They place themselves at the distance of two or three yards from each other; they turn their backs, and take their meal in profound silence.
The custom of drinking, at different hours from those assigned for eating, is to be met with amongst many savage nations. It was originally begun from necessity. It became an habit, which subsisted even when the fountain was near to them. ''A people transplanted,' observes our ingenious Philosopher, 'preserve, in another climate, modes of living which relate to those from whence they originally came. It is thus the Indians of Brazil scrupulously abstain from eating when they drink, and from drinking when they eat.'
When neither decency or politeness are known, the man who invites his friends to a repast, is greatly embarrassed to testify his esteem for his guests, and to present them with some amusement; for the savage guest imposes on him this obligation. Amongst the greater part of the American Indians the host is continually on the watch to solicit them to eat; but touches nothing himself. In New France, he wearies himself with singing, to divert the company while they eat.
When civilization advances, we wish to shew our confidence to our friends: we treat them as relations; and it is said that, in China, the master of the house, to give a mark of his politeness, absents himself while his guests regale themselves at his table in undisturbed revelry.
The demonstrations of friendship, in a rude state, have a savage and gross character, which it is not a little curious to observe. The Tartars pull a man by the ear, to press him to drink; and they continue tormenting him till he opens his mouth. It is then they clap their hands, and dance before him.
No customs seem more ridiculous than those practised by a Kamtschadale, when he wishes to make another his friend. He first invites him to eat. The host and his guest strip themselves in a cabin, which is heated to an uncommon degree. While the guest devours the food with which they serve him, the other continually stirs the fire. The stranger must bear the excess of the heat as well as of the repast. He vomits ten times before he will yield; but, at length, obliged to acknowledge himself overcome, he begins to compound matters. He purchases a moment's respite by a present of cloaths or dogs; for his host threatens to heat the cabin, and to oblige him to eat till he dies. The stranger has the right of retaliation allowed to him: he treats in the same manner, and exacts the same presents. Should his host not accept the invitation of his guest, whom he has so handsomely regaled, he would come and inhabit his cabin till he had obtained from him the presents he had in so singular a manner given to him.
For this extravagant custom a curious reason has been alledged. It is meant to put the person to a trial whose friendship is sought. The Kamtschadale, who is at the expence of the fires and the repast, is desirous to know if the stranger has the strength to support pain with him, and if he is generous enough to share with him some part of his property. While the guest is employed on his meal, he continues heating the cabin to an insupportable degree; and, for a last proof of the stranger's constancy and attachment, he exacts more cloaths and more dogs. The host passes through the same ceremonies in the cabin of the stranger; and he shews, in his turn, with what degree of fortitude he can defend his friend. It is thus the most singular customs would appear simple, if it were possible for the Philosopher to contemplate them on the spot.
As a distinguishing mark of their esteem, the Negroes of Ardra drink out of one cup at the same time. The King of Loango eats in one house, and drinks in another. A Kamtschadale kneels before his guest; he cuts an enormous slice from a sea-calf; he crams it entire into the mouth of his friend, furiously crying out—'
Tana!
—There!' and, cutting away what hangs about his lips, snatches and swallows it with avidity.
A barbarous magnificence attended the feasts of the ancient Monarchs of France. We are informed that, after their coronation or consecration, when they sat at table, the nobility served them on horseback.
DISPENSATIONS FOR MARRIAGE.
GREGORY the Great was the first of the Popes who introduced the custom of Dispensations for Marriage. It was occasioned by William the Conqueror; who, having espoused Matilda, daughter of Baldwin the Fifth, Count of Flanders, who was related to him in a prohibited degree, the Pope permitted him to live with her, on condition of him and Matilda each founding an abbey. In this business it appears, the Pope got
two abbeys
for
nothing
; and, he who had conquered all Europe, could not vanquish the fears of religious prejudice.
ENGLISH LADIES.
IT is necessary to premise, that the present strictures concerning our Country, our Divines, and our lovely Country-Women, were written in the days when our great grandmothers were Misses.
Menage says—'Mr. D. tells me that, in England, the
public places
are crouded with the daughters and the wives of the Clergy. The reason is, that the
livings
there, being very fat ones, all the English Ladies who are fond of their ease and good living, and who are more partial to the present hour than to the future, are in raptures to marry a Parson; who, on his side, never fails, according to the character of a good Ecclesiastic, of selecting the most beautiful. After his death, mother and daughters find themselves probably in the greatest distress; and, as they are in general very
handsome,
they put into practice all their smiles and all their graces; and, for this reason, chuse the public resorts of Fashion where they may attract notice. We Catholics should be grateful to the Council of Trent, that prohibited our Ecclesiastics from marriage, and thus obviated the inconveniences which such marriages produce.'
SPANISH MONKS.
THE Monks in Spain have introduced a custom which is very useful to them. It is, that the money to pay the masses which a dying man orders to be said for him, must be paid out of the estate he leaves, in preference to all his debts. The Spaniards, who seem to have a terrible dread of his Satanic Majesty, order frequently so great a number of masses, that too often there remains little or nothing for their unfortunate heirs and creditors. On these occasions, they say, in their humorous way—'
Mr. Such-an-one has left his soul his heir.
' A Spanish monarch ordered 100,000 masses to be said for him. If masses will stand in lieu of so many virtues, the worst Kings will certainly have the best seats in Heaven.
MONARCHS.
SAINT Chrysostom has a very acute observation on
Kings.
There are many Monarchs, he says, who are infected with the strange wish that their successors may turn out bad Princes. Good Kings desire it, as they imagine—continues this pious Politician—that their glory will thus appear the more splendid; and the bad desire it, as they consider such Kings will serve to countenance their own misdemeanors.
THE VIRGIN MARY.
WHEN Melchior Inchoffer, a Jesuit, published a book to vindicate a miracle of a
Letter
which the Virgin Mary had addressed to the citizens of Messina, Naudé brought him serious proofs of it's evident forgery. Inchoffer ingenuously confessed, that he knew it was an imposture, but that he did it by the
orders
of his
superiors.
The honest and indignant Naudé observes—'It is thus errors and illusions are spread about the world; and thus it is, that simple minds are deceived every day!' There is no danger, in the present times, of our being cheated by
Letters
from the
Virgin Mary.
That post-office which yielded such considerable revenues to the Ecclesiastics, has been closed this century past. What a
revolution
has there taken place in the human mind! The most enlightened Writers about 1600 to 1650, are either seriously combating, or seriously defending,
Miracles!
Patin very cautiously ventures to say, that he thinks there are
no Magicians,
nor
Sorcerers!
He believes, however, in
Apparitions
and
Devils!
Since I have got the Virgin Mary in my mind, I recollect a
Donation
made to her by Louis the Eleventh: nor can I but approve of the
manner
he employed to present her with this pious gift. He made a solemn donation of
the whole county
of Boulogne to the Holy Virgin—retaining, however, for
his own use, the Revenues!
This act bears the date of the year 1478; and it is thus entitled: the translation is literal—'Conveyance of Louis the Eleventh, to the Virgin of Boulogne, of the right and title of the fief and homage of the county of Boulogne, which is held by the Count of Saint Pol, to render a faithful account before the Image of the said Lady.'
PROTESTANTS.
WE have frequently heard the oppressed Protestants bitterly complain of the Catholic tyranny. What I now transcribe from Patin, will shew that there is something to be said on the other side. The stubborn bigot is alarmed; religious distinctions have been, however, since his days, wearing fast away; and, as Philosophy enlightens the mind, the heart insensibly will become more moral, though not so religious.
' All the Huguenots—or Protestants—of Europe, will
one day agree
together, and occasion a general revolt, under the name of Religion; particularly, whenever they shall have for their chief an enterprizing genius like that of the King of Sweden—Charles the Twelfth. I fear
those people
—he says contemptuously—if they get the upper hand of us, will not spare us. They will treat us savagely, and very differently from what
we do them
—Witness the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the
once
long flourishing state of the Inquisition.—They will not even suffer us to hold
our mass,
as we permit them their service. The Huguenots are dangerous politicians; insolent, and unmerciful, as they have lately shewn us in England—the decapitation of Charles the First—and in France, during the troubles of the Prince de Condé, in 1562.'
When Patin wrote this, it must be recollected that, as he turned his eyes on England, he had before him the austere and persecuting Puritans, with Cromwell at their head.
COFFEE.
IT is curious to observe the description
Purchas
—of whom an account has been given in the first part of this Work—gives us of
Coffee,
when yet it had not been introduced into Europe. He writes, that 'the Turks have
Coffa
-houses more common than ale-houses with us; in or near to which, on benches in the street, they will sit chatting most of the day, drinking their
Coffa
—so called of a berry it is made of—as hot as they can endure it. It is black as soot, and tastes not much unlike it: good, they say, for digestion and mirth.' The second Edition of this book was published in 1625. Coffee was introduced into England by Mr. Edwards, a Turkish merchant, in the year 1652.
INQUISITION.
INNOCENT the Third, a Pope as enterprizing as he was successful in his enterprizes, having sent Dominic, with some missionaries, into Languedoc, these men so irritated the Heretics they were sent to convert, that most of them were assassinated at Toulouse, in the year 1200. It was then he called in for aid temporal arms, and published against them a crusade; granting, as is usual with the Popes on similar occasions, all kinds of indulgences and pardons to those who should arm against these
Mahometans,
as he stiled these unfortunate men. Raimond, Count of Toulouse, was constrained to submit. The inhabitants were passed on the edge of the sword, without distinction of age or sex. It was then he established that scourge of Europe, THE INQUISITION: for having considered that, though all might be compelled to submit by arms, there might remain numbers who would profess particular dogmas, he established this sanguinary tribunal solely to inspect into all families, and examine all persons who they imagined were unfriendly to the interests of Rome. Dominic did so much by his cares and continued persecutions, that he firmly established it at Toulouse.
It was as late as the year 1484 that it became known in Spain. It was also to a Dominican, John de Torquemada, that the Court of Rome owed this obligation. As he was the Confessor of Queen Isabella, he had extorted from her a promise that, if ever she ascended the throne, she would use every means to extirpate Heresy and Heretics. Ferdinand had conquered Grenada, and had chaced from the Spanish realms multitudes of unfortunate Moors. A few had remained; who, with the Jews, he obliged to become Christians: they at least assumed the name; but it was well known that both these nations naturally respected their
own prejudices,
rather than those of the Christians.
Torquemada pretended that this dissimulation would greatly hurt the interests of the Holy Religion. The Queen listened with respectful diffidence to her Confessor; and, at length, gained over the King to consent to the establishment of this barbarous tribunal. Torquemada, indefatigable in his zeal for the Holy Seat, in the space of fourteen years that he exercised the office of Chief Inquisitor, persecuted one hundred thousand persons, of whom six thousand were condemned to the flames!
Let us contemplate a slight sketch of that DESPOTISM which, with the destruction of the Bastile, we hope is extinguished throughout Europe.
During the pontificate of Sixtus the Fifth, the Inquisition was powerful and rigorous in Rome. Muretus, in writing to De Thou the Historian, says—'We do not know what becomes of the people here. Almost every day, when I rise, I hear, with an alarming surprize, how such an one has disappeared. We dare not whisper our suspicions: the Inquisition would be immediately at our doors.'
THE ILLUSTRIOUS.
THE title of
Illustrious
was never given, till the reign of Constantine, but to those whose reputation was splendid in arms or in letters. Flattery had not yet adopted this noble word into her Vocabulary. Suetonius has composed a book, to mention those who had possessed this title; and, as it was
then
bestowed, a moderate book was sufficient to contain their names.
In the time of Constantine, the title of
Illustrious
was given more particularly to those Princes who had distinguished themselves in war; but it was not continued to their descendants. At length, it became very common; and every son of a Prince was
Illustrious.
It is now a word of little signification: it is, however, very serviceable to the Poet, who employs it frequently as a convenient epithet to compleat the measure of his verse.
CROMWELL.
IN the Funeral Oration of Henrietta, Queen of England, the character of Cromwell is delineated by a pencil whose strokes are firm, though delicate—
' A man was seen with a profundity of mind that exceeds our belief. As finished a Hypocrite as he was a skilful Politician; capable of undertaking any thing, and of concealing what he undertook; equally indefatigable and active in peace as in war; who left nothing to Fortune which he could seize from her by foresight and prudence; but, for what remained, always so vigilant and so ready, that he never failed to improve the occasions she presented him. In a word, he was one of those daring and adventurous minds which seem born to change the affairs of the world.'
The Ambassador from the French Court in that day was an able Minister; and that he was, at the same time, a fine Writer, the following sketch of Cromwell evinces. It has the advantage of being given by one who was a witness to what he observes—
' He was gentle and cruel when either was necessary for his interests. He had no faith in religion, no honour in his professions, no fidelity to his friends, than as the semblance of these virtues served towards his aggrandizement. He knew better than any man to put into practice all the pious grimaces and insinuating manners of the false votarists of religion; and to conceal, under an humble air and popular address, an unmeasurable ambition. In a word, he possessed, in the supreme degree, all the qualities of a great Politician; and there was nothing wanting to compleat his good fortune, but to have acquired his success by better means, to have lived longer, and to have had children worthy of succeeding him.'
JOAN OF ARC.
OF the Maid of Orleans, I have somewhere read, that a bundle of faggots was made to supply her place, when she was supposed to have been burnt by the Duke of Bedford. None of our Historians notice this anecdote; though some have mentioned that, after her death, an impostor arose, and was even married to a French gentleman, by whom she had several children. Whether she deserved to have been distinguished by the appellation of
The Maid of Orleans,
we have great reason to suspect; and some in her days, by her fondness for man's apparel, even doubted her sex. The following Epitaph on her I find in a volume, entitled, 'Historical Rarities;' and which, possessing some humour, merits to be rescued from total oblivion—
Here lies
Joan
of
Arc
; the which
Some count
Saint,
and some count
Witch
;
Some count
Man,
and something more;
Some count
Maid,
and some a
Whore.
Her
Life's
in question, wrong or right;
Her
Death's
in doubt, by laws or might.
Oh, Innocence! take heed of it,
How thou too near to Guilt dost sit.
(Meantime,
France
a wonder saw—
A woman rule, 'gainst Salique law!)
But, Reader, be content to stay
Thy censure till the Judgment Day;
Then shalt thou know, and not before,
Whether
Saint, Witch, Man, Maid, or Whore.
TRANSUBSTANTIATION.
IN his account of the Mexicans, Abbé Raynal says—'They had a piece of superstition, of which
no traces
can be found in any
other country.
On certain days, the Priests made a statue of
paste,
which they sent to the oven to be
baked:
they then placed it on an
altar,
where it became a
divinity!
Innumerable crowds flocked to the temple: the Priest cut the statue in pieces, and distributed a portion of it to all the persons in the assembly, who ate it, and thought they were sanctified by swallowing
their god!
'
Did the Abbé forget the rites of
his own
religion, when he observes—'No traces of this superstition can be found in any other country?' Is not all this but a simple description of the nonsense of
Transubstantiation?
The recital of History frequently, when applied to our own times, forms the severest satire.
AMERICA.
' IT is computed, by able writers,' says my Lord Kaimes, 'that the present inhabitants of America amount not to a twentieth part of those who existed when that continent was discovered by Columbus. This decay is ascribed to the intemperate use of
spirits,
and to the
small-pox,
both of them introduced by the Europeans.' He seems to have forgotten that they are indebted to
us
also for 'the intemperate use' of the
sword,
and the dreadful
bigotry
and
cruelties
practised by the religious and avaricious Spaniards, which certainly are not less destructive than the contagion of the small-pox, or the poison of spirituous liquors.
We may also add another proof of European humanity. A plantation in Jamaica, which employs a
hundred
slaves, requires an annual recruit of no fewer than
seven,
who fall the yearly victims to the cruelties of the lower overseers, who follow them all day with whips!
Bartholomew Casa affirms, that the Spaniards, in America, destroyed, in about forty-five years,
ten millions
of human souls! and this with a view of converting these unfortunate men to Christianity. There is a story recorded of an Indian, who, being tied to the stake, a Franciscan Friar persuaded him to turn Christian, and then he would go to heaven. The Indian asked him, 'Whether there were any
Spaniards
in heaven?'—'Certainly,' the Friar answered; 'it is full of them.'—'Then,' the last words of the dying Indian were, 'I had rather go to hell, than have any more of their company!'
ENCHANTED TAPESTRY.
ABOUT the year 1526, the Portuguese attempted to settle at Borneo. Too feeble to make their arms respected, they tried to gain the good-will of one of the Sovereigns of the country, by offering him some Tapestry. This weak Prince took the figures wrought on it for
enchanted men,
who would strangle him in the night-time, if he suffered them to approach his person. The explanations they gave to remove his apprehensions had no effect: he obstinately refused to permit the present to be brought into his palace; and, at the same time, prohibited the donors from entering his capital. Had his Majesty been acquainted with the Aeneid of Virgil, he might have exclaimed what, for the benefit of the Ladies, we shall give in Dryden's version—
Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force:
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse!
FASHIONS.
THE origin of many, probably of most Fashions, was in the endeavour to conceal some deformity of the inventor. Thus Charles the Seventh, of France, introduced Long Coats, to hide his ill-made legs. Shoes, with very long points, full two feet in length, were invented by Henry Plantaganet, Duke of Anjou, to conceal a very large excrescence which he had upon one of his feet.
Sometimes, Fashions are quite reversed in one age from those of another. Thus Bags, when first in fashion in France, were only wore
en dishabille.
In visits of ceremony, the hair was tied in a ribband, and floated over the shoulders—all which is exactly contrary to our present fashion. Queen Isabella, of Bavaria, as remarkable for her gallantry as the fairness of her complexion, introduced a fashion of leaving the shoulders and part of the neck uncovered.
In England, about the reign of Henry the Fourth, they wore long-pointed Shoes, to such an immoderate length, that they could not walk till they were fastened to their knees with chains. Luxury improving on this ridiculous mode, it was the custom of an English Beau of the fourteenth century to have these chains of gold or silver. A very accurate account of one of this description may be found in Henry's History of Great Britain, in his chapter on Manners, &c. Vol. IV. The Ladies of that period were not less fantastical in their dress; and it must be confessed, that the most cynical fatirist can have no reason, on a comparison with those times, to censure our present modes.
To this article, as it may probably arrest the volatile eye of our fair Reader, we add what may serve as a hint for the heightening of her charms. Tacitus remarks of
Poppea,
the Queen of Nero, that she concealed
a part
of her face: 'To the end,' he adds, 'that the imagination having fuller play by irritating curiosity, they might think higher of her beauty than if the whole of her face had been exposed.'
THE GREAT AND LITTLE TURK.
TITLES frequently remain when the occasions of making them are forgotten. Perhaps, few know why the Ottoman Emperor is called
The Great Turk:
it is not, as some have imagined, to distinguish him from his own subjects. This was the occasion. Mahomet the Second was the first of these Emperors on whom the Christians bestowed the title of the Great Turk. It was not owing to his great actions that this splendid title was accorded to him, but to the vast extent of his dominions, in comparison with those of the Sultan of Iconia, or Cappadocia, his contemporary, who was distinguished by the title of
The Little Turk.
After the taking of Constantinople, Mahomet the Second deprived the latter of his domains; and still preserved the title of the Great Turk, though the propriety of it, by this accident, was lost.
THE POULIATS, AND THE POULICHES.
THE present article, which I have drawn from Abbé Raynal, presents two pictures of the debasement of the human race, which, perhaps, History has never paralleled.
' There is a tribe amongst the Indians which is the refuse of the rest. The members of it are employed in the meanest offices of society. They bury the dead, carry away dirt, and live upon the flesh of animals that
die natural deaths.
They are prohibited from entering into the
temples
and public
markets
; neither are they allowed the use of
the wells,
that are common to all their inhabitants. Their dwellings are at the
extremity
of the towns, or consist of
solitary
cottages in the country; and they are even
forbidden to appear in the streets
where the Bramins reside. As all other Indians, they may employ themselves in the labours of agriculture: but only for the benefit of
the other tribes
; for they are not permitted to have lands of their own, not even upon lease. Such is the degree of horror they excite, that if, by chance, they were
to touch any one
not belonging to their tribe, they would be deprived, with impunity, of
a life
reckoned too abject to deserve the protection of the laws. Most of them are employed in the culture of rice. Near the fields where they carry on this work, there is a kind of hut, into which they retire when they hear
a cry,
which always comes from a distance, to give them notice of some order from the person on whom they depend; to which they answer, not coming out of their retreat. They take the same precautions whenever they are warned, by a confused kind of noise, of the approach of
any man
whatever. If they have not time to hide themselves, they fall
prostrate
on the ground, with their faces downwards, with all the marks of humiliation which the sense of their disgrace can suggest.
' Whenever the harvests do not answer to the avidity of an oppressive master, he sometimes cruelly
sets fire
to the huts of these unhappy labourers; and if they
attempt
to escape the flames,
he fires upon them
without mercy! The condition of these wretched people is horrible in every respect, even in
the manner
in which they are forced to provide for their most
urgent wants.
In the dusk of the evening, they come out from their retreats in bands; they direct their steps towards the market, at a certain distance from which they begin
to bellow!
The merchants approach; and they ask for what they want. They are supplied, and the provisions are laid on the very spot where the money destined for the payment of them has been previously deposited. When
the purchasers
can be assured that they shall not be seen by any one, they come out from behind the hedge where they had
concealed
themselves, and carry away, with
precipitation,
what they have acquired in so singular a manner.'
After contemplating this dishonourable picture of Man, (a degeneracy in Human Nature which probably the reader could hardly suspect) he may deepen the philosophic reverie by what the Abbé gives us in continuation.
' Yet this very tribe of
Pouliats
have
an inferior
one among themselves, called
Pouliches.
These last are forbidden the use of fire; they are not permitted to build huts, but are reduced to the necessity of living in a kind of
nest upon the trees,
or in the forests. When pressed with hunger, they
howl
like wild beasts, to excite compassion. The most charitable then deposit some rice, or other food, at the foot of a tree, and
retire
with all possible haste to give the famished wretch an opportunity of taking it without meeting with his benefactor, who would think himself polluted by coming near him.'
To clear up this curious information, which stretches to the utmost the belief of the reader, the Abbé presents us with an excellent philosophical argument. 'This extreme disgrace,' he says, 'into which a considerable part of a numerous nation is plunged, has always appeared an inexplicable circumstance. Men of the utmost sagacity have never been able to conceive, how a people, humane and sensible, could have brought themselves to reduce their own brethren to so abject a state. To solve this difficulty, let us be permitted to hazard a conjecture. In our half barbarous governments, dreadful torments, or an ignominious death, are allotted to those criminals who have disturbed, in a greater or less degree, the peace of society. May we not therefore reasonably suppose that, in the soft climate of India, a more moderate system of legislature may have been satisfied with
excluding
from their tribes all kinds of malefactors? This punishment must appear to them sufficient to put a stop to the commissions of such crimes; and it was certainly the best adapted to a country where the effusion of blood was always forbidden by religious as well as moral principles. It would certainly have been a very proper circumstance, if
the children
had not inherited the infamy of their parents: but there were unfurmountable prejudices which militated against this reinstatement; a family never being received again into a tribe after it had been once expelled from it.'
The solution of the Abbé is ingenious and probable: but the Mosaic threat of vengeance extending to the third and fourth generation, is uncongenial to the mild spirit of humane philosophy. Yet is this threat on record in those Commandments which are said to have been written by the finger of God himself. Surely this cannot accord with the unwearied benevolence of a paternal Deity! Let us rather acknowledge, with a sigh, that there are multitudes of the human race who really believe themselves to be the property of a small number of men who oppress them. The image of the Creator is so debased in some parts of the globe, that it may be said, the hand of the oppressor has effaced every mark of it's original greatness.
THE THIRTEEN CANTONS.
WHO can contemplate, without enthusiasm, the exertions of men, when they have been prompted to rely on their own force to act up to that sublime character they hold in the scale of creation, and to write with their own blood the
charter
of their liberty? We have just come from meditating on nations who, beneath the enervating skies of India, destitute of the delights of liberty, have sunk to a degree even beneath their associates who graze the field, and lap the waters of the brook! Let us now turn our eyes to the bleak heaven, and the snowy mountains, of Switzerland, where the hardy native roams free and unconstrained, and 'knows himself a MAN.'
The pride, the insolence, and the tyranny, of those governors who were given to the Helvetians, in the name of the Empire, by the Dukes of Austria, awakened at once the minds of this people, who regarded freedom as their birth-right, yet whom the governors attempted to oppress as slaves.
Three peasants
resolved to preserve their liberties; and each of them collected his friends in his own burgh. In the year 1305,
Switz, Uri,
and
Underwal,
declared themselves independent; and, as the party of
Switz
was the earliest in promoting this alliance, they had the honour of giving to this confederate nation the name of
Swiss,
and to the country that of
Switzerland.
The other Cantons joined them at different periods. Appenzel, the last of the Thirteen Cantons, closed this honourable confederacy in 1513.
CHARLES THE FIRST.
A FRENCH writer has recorded an anecdote of this unfortunate Prince, which characterizes the classical turn of his mind, and the placability of his disposition.
' A Frenchman, who had formed a tender connection with the wife of one of the principal enemies of Charles—who was then put under arrest, but very carelessly guarded—having learnt from this lady, that they had resolved to make the King perish on a scaffold, communicated the intelligence to Mr. De Bellicore, the French Ambassador, who immediately ran to the King, to give him the important notice. Bellicore was kept in waiting for a long time: at last, the King came to him, and said—I have been at a comedy; and I never was more entertained.—Ah, Sire! answered Bellicore, it is about a
tragedy
of which I have to speak to you! And then informed him of what had been lately communicated to him; entreating him, at the same time, to save himself by a vessel which he could instantly prepare. The King calmly answered him with this fine line from Ovid—
Qui procumbit humi, non habet unde cadat—
He who lies prostrate on the earth, need not fear to fall.'—'Sire,' said Bellicore, 'they may occasion
his head
to fall!'
This shews, that he did not suspect their cruelties would ever have been carried to the length they were; and it must be confessed, when he had been brought so
low,
all the rest was persecuting inhumanity.
'KING OF ENGLAND, FRANCE, &c.'
NOTHING can be more empty and ridiculous than the title which our Monarchs assume of '
The King of France.
' It would characterize a great Prince to eraze from his true honours this fictitious one. An
English
Monarch should not suffer his dignity to be exposed to the smile of the Philosopher.
Charpentier very temperately states the only two principles by which our Kings can assume this title. The first, from Edward the Third being son of Isabella of France, who was sister to three Kings of France—Louis Hutin, Philip the Long, and Charles the Fair, who died without children. So that Edward, their nephew, disputed the crown of France with
Philip de Valois,
on the foundation of the Salique Law, which had never yet been agitated. This law says, that the kingdom of France
ne tombant point en quenouille
:
i. e.
'the sceptre of France shall never degenerate into a distaff.' The children of the daughters of France can never succeed to it. As the present Monarchs of England are not descendants of this
Edward,
they cannot have any pretensions to the crown of France, if it had not been a maxim with them, that the rights once devolved on the crown are for ever unalienable and imprescriptible. The second principle is, the donation which Charles the Sixth made of the Crown of France to our Henry the Fifth, his son-in-law, to the exclusion of his son Charles the Seventh.
We may add, here, that Cromwell offered to sell Cardinal Mazarine all the vouchers for France which are preserved in the Tower, for a hundred thousand crowns. It was at this price he rated the claims of England to the Crown of France; but the Cardinal wisely deemed even that sum too high a price.
If it be a maxim with our crown, of which I am ignorant, that the rights once devolved upon it, are unalienable and imprescriptible, it may be said that we possess the United States of America; but, I believe, this sovereignty would not be so easily permitted as that of the French monarchy.
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
THAT it is dangerous to exercise our raillery on those men whose 'swords are sharper than their pens,' the present anecdote may verify.
Philip the First, of France, frequently indulged his humour at the expence of the Conqueror's rather too large
embonpoint
and prominent belly. When William remained uncommonly long at Rouen, Philip, who did not much approve of his proximity to his court, frequently, in a jesting manner, enquired of his courtiers if they did not know when William would lie-in? The Conqueror, informed of this
jest,
gave him to understand that, when he should get abroad, he would come to return his compliments, for his kind enquiries, to Saint Genevieve, at Paris, with ten thousand lances, instead of candles! Whatever might be the wit of these Monarchs, the arms of William were not contemptible. Such was the vengeance he took for the raillery of Philip, that he desolated, in a short time, the French Vexin, burnt the city of Mantes, and massacred the inhabitants; and, had not his death impeded his progress, he very probably would have conquered France, as he had England.
CHARLES THE FIFTH.
CHARLES the Fifth used to say, the Portuguese appeared to be madmen, and were so; the Spaniards appeared to be wise, and were not; the Italians appeared to be wise, and were so; the French appeared to be madmen, and were not—That the Germans spoke like carmen; the English, like simpletons; the French, like masters; and the Spaniards, like kings.
This Emperor—who, though he thus censures our English modesty, is indebted to our country for his best-written Life—was called by the Sicilians,
Scipio Africanus
; by the Italians,
David
; by the French,
Hercules
; by the Turks,
Julius Caesar
; by the Africans,
Hannibal
; by the Germans,
Charlemagne
; and by the Spaniards,
Alexander the Great.
These are the titles of Adulation. One is almost tempted to call him by a grosser name, when one reflects on his folly in quitting a crown, which had long been the idol of his ambition, to sink into a solitary retreat, with a pension that was never paid to him; and, having no more the power of disturbing the tranquillity of Europe, to tyrannize over a few melancholy monks; and, as Fenelon expresses it, 'every day to become
ennuyé
with having nothing to do but praying to God, winding his watch, and continually scolding the poor unhappy novices,' whose great curse it was, to be associated with him, who had been the most potent Monarch on earth.
THE GOTHS AND HUNS.
THE barbarous honours which these ferocious nations paid to their deceased Monarchs are recorded in History, by the interment of Attila, King of the Huns; and Alaric, King of the Goths.
Attila died in 453; and was buried, in the midst of a vast champaign, in a coffin which was inclosed in one of gold, another of silver, and the third of iron. With the body were interred all the spoils of the enemy—harnesses, embroidered with gold, and studded with jewels; rich silks; and whatever they had taken most precious in the palaces of the Kings they had pillaged: and, that the place of his interment might for ever remain concealed, the Huns deprived of life all who had assisted at his burial.
The Goths had done nearly the same for Alaric, in 410, at Cosence, a town in Calabria. They turned aside the River Vasento; and, having formed a grave in the midst of it's bed where it's course was most rapid, they interred this King with prodigious accumulations of riches. After having caused the river to re-assume it's usual course, they murdered, without exception, all those who had been concerned in digging this singular grave.
PHILIP THE THIRD.
PHILIP the Third, King of Spain, was a weak Prince, who suffered himself to be governed by his Ministers. A Patriot wished to open his eyes, but he could not pierce through the crowds of his Flatterers; besides, that the voice of Patriotism heard in a corrupted court would have become a crime never to have been pardoned. He found, however, an ingenious manner of conveying to him his censure. He caused to be laid on his table, one day, a letter, sealed, which bore this address—'To the King of Spain, Philip the Third, at present in the service of the Duke of Lerma.'
In a similar manner, Don Carlos, son to Philip the Second, made a book, with empty pages, to contain the voyages of his father; which bore this title—'The Great and Admirable Voyages of the King, Mr. Philip.' All these voyages consisted of going to the Escurial from Madrid, and returning to Madrid from the Escurial. Jests of this kind, at length, cost him his life.
DETHRONED MONARCHS.
FORTUNE never appears in a more extravagant humour than when she reduces Monarchs to become Mendicants. This is no uncommon revolution in her eventful volumes. Modern History has recorded many such instances.
In Candide, or the Optimist, the reader will find an admirable stroke of Voltaire's. Eight travellers meet in an obscure inn, and some of them with not sufficient money to pay for a scurvy dinner. In the course of conversation, they are discovered to be
Eight Monarchs,
in Europe, who had been deprived of their crowns.
What adds to this exquisite satire, is, that the Eight Monarchs are not of the fictitious Majesties of the Poetic Brain; Imperial Shadows, like those that appeared to Macbeth; but living Monarchs, who were wandering at that moment about the world.
Theodore, King of Corsica, is not yet forgotten by many. Smollet, in his Ferdinand Count Fathom, has given us some curious anecdotes, which paint very forcibly the singular distresses of that Monarch.
Here is another to be added to this list. In the year 1595, died at Paris, Antonio, King of Portugal. His body is interred at the Cordeliers, and his heart deposited at the Ave Maria. Nothing on earth was capable of obliging this Prince to renounce his crown. He passed over to England, and came to France, where he resided; and died, in great poverty, at the age of sixty-four years. This dethroned Monarch was happy in one thing, which is indeed rare. In all his miseries, he had a servant, who proved a tender and faithful friend, and who only desired to participate in his misfortunes, and to soften his miseries; and, for the recompence of his services, he only wished to be buried at the feet of his dear master. This hero in loyalty, to whom the ancient Romans had raised altars, was Don Diego Bothei, one of the greatest Lords of the Court of Portugal, and who drew his origin from the Kings of Bohemia.
ROYAL DIVINITIES.
WE know, that the first Roman Emperors did not want flatterers; and, that the adulations they sometimes lavished were extravagant. But, perhaps, few know they were less offensive than the flatterers of the third age, under the Pagan, and of the fourth, under the Christian, Emperors. Those who are acquainted with the character of the age of Augustus, have only to throw their eyes on the one and the other
code,
to find an infinite number of passages which had not been bearable in that age. For instance, here is a Law of Arcadius and Honorius, published in 404.
' Let the officers of the palace be warned to abstain from frequenting tumultuous meetings; and that those, who, instigated by a
sacrilegious
temerity, dare to oppose the authority of
our Divinity,
shall be deprived of their employments, and their estates confiscated.' The letters they write are
holy.
When the sons speak of their fathers, it is—'Their father of
divine
memory;' or—'Their
divine
father.' They call their own laws
oracles,
and
celestial
oracles. So also their subjects address them by the titles of—'
Your Perpetuity—your Eternity.
' And it appears by a law of Theodore the Great, that the Emperors, at length, added this to their titles. It begins thus—'If any magistrate, after having concluded a public work, puts his name rather than that of
our Perpetuity,
let him be judged guilty of high-treason.'
HISTORIAN.
THE famous Le Clerc, great in his day as a journalist, observes, that there are four principal things essential to constitute a good Historian; and, without which, nothing considerable from him can be expected. The first is, to be well instructed in what he undertakes to relate. The second, to be able, without any disguises, to say what he thinks to be the truth. The third is, to be capable of realating what he knows. The fourth, to be capable of judging of the events, and of those who occasion them. If we reflect on the ability of the Historian in these four points, we may be enabled to judge if a History is well or ill written.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
VIGNEUL Marville has written, in his lively and bold manner, what I must confess I think just, concerning our 'Virgin-Queen,' as the voice of Adulation has distinguished her.
' Elizabeth, Queen of England, passionately admired handsome and well-made men; and he was already far advanced in her favour who approached her with beauty and with grace. On the contrary, she had so unconquerable an aversion for ugly and ill-made men, who had been treated unfortunately by Nature, that she could not endure their presence.
' When she issued from her palace, her guards were careful to disperse from before her eyes hideous and deformed people, the lame, the hunch-backed, &c. in a word, all those whose appearance might shock her delicate sensations.
' There is this singular and admirable in the conduct of Elizabeth, that she made her pleasures subservient to her politics, and she maintained her affairs by what in general occasions the ruin of Princes. So secret were her amours, that, even to the present day, their mysteries cannot be penetrated; but the utility she drew from them is public, and always operated for the good of her people. Her lovers were her Ministers, and her Ministers were her lovers. Love commanded, Love was obeyed; and the reign of this Princess was happy, because it was a reign of
Love,
in which it's chains and it's slavery are liked!'
The origin of Raleigh's advancement in the Queen's graces, was by an action of gallantry, which perfectly gratified her Majesty, not insensible to flattery. He found the Queen taking a walk; and a wet place incommoding her royal footsteps, Raleigh immediately spread his new plush cloak across the miry place. The Queen stepped cautiously on it, and passed over dry; but not without a particular observation of him who had given her so eloquent, though silent, a flattery. Shortly afterwards, from Captain Raleigh, he became Sir Walter, and rapidly advanced in the Queen's favour.
PARR AND JENKINS.
OF these men, who are singular instances of a patriarchal longevity of life, the reader will not be displeased to attend to the following well authenticated notices concerning them.
Thomas Parr was born in the last year of King Edward the Fourth, anno 1483. He married his first wife, Jane, at eighty years of age; and, in above thirty years, she brought him but two children, the eldest of which did not live above three years. He married his second wife, Catherine, when he was an hundred and twenty years of age, by whom he had one child. He lived till he had attained to something above one hundred and fifty years of age. Thomas, Earl of Arundel, caused him to be brought to Westminster about two months before his death: there he passed most of his time in sleep; and an ocular witness has thus described him—
From head to heel, his body had, all over,
A quickset, thickset, nat'ral, hairy cover.
It is supposed this removal, by taking him from his native air, and the disturbance of much company, hastened his death. He died there, November 15, 1634, in the ninth year of King Charles the First, and was buried in the Abbey.
Henry Jenkins lived till he was an hundred and sixty-nine years of age. A remarkable circumstance discovered the age of this man. Being sworn a witness in a cause of an hundred and twenty years, the judge could not help reproving him, till he said he was
then
butler to the Lord Conyers; and, at length, his name was found in some old register of the Lord Conyers's menial servants. Dr. Tancred Robinson, who sent the account of this man to the Royal Society, adds farther, that Henry Jenkins, coming into his sister's kitchen to beg an alms, he asked him, how old he was? After a little pausing, he said, he was about one hundred and sixty-two or three. The Doctor asked him, what Kings he remembered? He said, 'Henry the Eighth.' What public things he could longest remember? He said, 'The fight at Flowden Field.' Whether the King was there? He said, 'No, he was in France, and the Earl of Surrey was General.' How old he was then? He said, 'About twelve years old.' The Doctor inspected an old Chronicle that was in the house, and found that the Battle of Flowden Field was one hundred and fifty-two years before; that the Earl he named was General; and that Henry the Eighth was then at Tournay.
Jenkins was a poor man, and could neither write nor read. He died December the 8th, 1670.
FEUDAL TYRANNY.
THE Feudal government introduced a species of servitude which till that time was unknown, and which was called the Servitude of the Land. The Bondmen, or Villains, did not reside in the house of the Lord: but they entirely depended on his caprice; and he sold them, as he did the animals, with the field where they lived, and which they cultivated.
It is difficult to conceive with what insolence the petty Lords of those times tyrannized over their Villains: they not only oppressed their slaves with unremitted labour, instigated by a vile cupidity; but their whim and caprice led them to inflict miseries without even any motive of interest.
In Scotland, they had a right to enjoy the first-fruits of all the Maidens; and Malcolm the Third did not abolish this shameful right but by ordering that they might be redeemed by a quit-rent.
Others, to preserve this privilege when they could not enjoy it in all it's extent, thrust their leg, booted, into the bed of the new-married couple. Others have compelled their subjects to pass the first night at the top of a tree, and there to consummate the marriage; to pass the bridal hours in a river; to be bound naked to a cart, and to trace some furrows as they were dragged; or to leap, with their feet tied, over the horns of stags.
Sometimes their caprice commanded the bridegroom to appear in drawers at their castle, and plunge into a ditch of mud; and sometimes they were compelled to beat the waters of the ponds, to hinder the frogs from disturbing the Lord!
There was a time when the German Lords reckoned, amongst their privileges, that of robbing on the highways of their territory!
I beg leave to remind the reader of the shameful behaviour of Geoffrey, Lord of Coventry, who compelled his wife to ride naked, on a white pad, through the streets of the town; that, by this mode, he might restore to the inhabitants those privileges of which his wantonness had deprived them.
When the Abbot of Figeac makes his entry into that town, the Lord of Montbrun, dressed in a Harlequin's coat, and one of his legs naked, is compelled, by an ancient custom, to conduct him to the door of his abbey, by leading his horse by the bridle.
The Feudal Barons frequently associated to share amongst them those children of their Villains who appeared to be the most healthy and serviceable, or who were remarkable for their talents; and, not infrequently, sold them in their markets as they did their beasts.
The Feudal servitude is not, even in the present enlightened times, entirely abolished in Poland, in Germany, and in Russia. In those countries, the Bondmen are still entirely dependent on the caprice of their masters. The Peasants of Hungary, or Bohemia, frequently revolt, and attempt to shake off the pressure of Feudal tyranny; and it is ardently to be wished that their wretched servitude should in some measure be softened.
It is scarce thirty years past, when a Lord or Prince of the Northern Countries, passing through one of his villages, observed a little assembly of Peasants and their families amusing themselves with dancing. He commands his domestics to part the men from the women, and confine them in the houses. He orders that the coats of the women may be drawn up above their heads, and tied with their garters. He then permits the men to be liberated, and inflicts a severe castigation on all those who did not recognize their wives in that state!
Absolute dominion hardens the human heart; and Nobles, accustomed to command their Bondmen, will treat their domestics as slaves. Those of Siberia punish theirs by an abundant use of the cudgel or rod. The Abbé Chappe saw two Russian slaves undress a chambermaid, who had, by some trifling negligence, given offence to her mistress: after having uncovered as far as her waist, one placed her head betwixt his knees; the other held her by the feet; while both, armed with two sharp rods, violently lashed her back, till it pleased the tyrant of the house to decree
it was enough!
After a perusal of these anecdotes of Feudal Tyranny, I shall take leave to transcribe the following lines from Goldsmith—
Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
Except when fast-approaching danger warms:
But, when contending Chiefs blockade the Throne,
Contracting Regal power, to stretch their own;
When I behold a factious Band agree
To call it Freedom, when themselves are free;
Fear, Pity, Justice, Indignation, start,
Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart;
Till half a Patriot, half a Coward, grown,
I fly from PETTY TYRANTS—to the THRONE.
GAMING.
GAMING appears to be an universal passion. Some have attempted to deny it's universality; they have imagined that it is chiefly prevalent in cold climates, where such a passion becomes most capable of agitating and gratifying the torpid minds of their inhabitants.
But, if we lay aside speculation, and turn to facts, we are surely warranted in the supposition that, as the love of Gaming proceeds from a varice—that dishonourable passion which, probably, for some wise purposes, is so congenial to the human heart—it is not unjust to conclude, that it exists with equal force in human nature; and, consequently, the fatal propensity of Gaming is to be discovered, as well amongst the inhabitants of the frigid and torrid zones, as amongst those of the milder climates. The savage and the civilized, the illiterate and the learned, are alike captivated with the hope of accumulating wealth without the labours of industry.
Mr. Moore has lately given to the Public an elaborate Work, which professedly treats of the three most important topics which a writer of the present day can discuss—Suicide, Gaming, and Duelling. He has collected a variety of instances of this destructive passion being prevalent in all nations; and I shall just notice those which appear most singular.
Dice,
and that little pugnacious animal the
Cock,
are the chief instruments employed by the numerous nations of the East, to agitate their minds and ruin their fortunes; to which the Chinese—who are desperate gamesters—add the use of
Cards.
When all other property is played away, the Asiatic gambler scruples not to stake his
wife,
or his
child,
on the cast of a die, or courage and strength of a martial bird. If still unsuccessful, the last venture he stakes is,
himself!
In the Island of Ceylon,
cock-fighting
is carried to a great height. The Sumatrans are addicted to the use of dice. A strong spirit of play characterizes a Malayan. After having resigned every thing to the good fortune of the winner, he is reduced to a horrid state of desperation; he then loosens a certain lock of hair, which indicates war and destruction to all the raving gamester meets. He intoxicates himself with opium; and, working himself up into a fit of phrenzy, he bites and kills every one who comes in his way. But, as soon as ever this lock is seen flowing, it is
lawful
to fire at the person, and to destroy him as fast as possible. I think it is this which our sailors call, 'To run a muck.' Thus Dryden writes—
Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets,
And
runs
an Indian
Muck
at all he meets.
Thus also Pope—
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To
run a Muck,
and tilt at all I meet.
Johnson could not discover the derivation of the word
Muck.
I think I have heard that it refers to their employing, on these fatal occasions, a
muck,
or lance; but my recollection is, probably, imperfect.
To discharge their gambling debts, the Siamese sell their possessions, their families, and, at length, themselves. The Chinese play
night
and
day,
till they have lost all they are worth; and then they usually go and hang themselves. Such is the propensity of the Japanese for high play, that they were compelled to make a law, that 'Whoever ventures his money at play, shall be put to death.' In the newly-discovered islands of the Pacific Ocean, they venture even their hatchets, which they hold as invaluable acquisitions, on running matches. 'We saw a man,' as Cooke writes in his last voyage, 'beating his breast, and tearing his hair, in the violence of rage, for having lost three hatchets at one of these races, and which he had purchased with nearly half his property.'
The ancient nations were not less addicted to gaming. In the same volume are collected numerous instances amongst the ancient Persians, Grecians, and Romans; the Goths, the Germans, &c. To notice the modern ones were a melancholy task: there is hardly a family in Europe who cannot record, from their own domestic annals, the dreadful prevalence of this unfortunate passion. Affection has felt the keenest lacerations, and Genius been irrecoverably lost, by a wanton sport, which doomed to destruction the hopes of families, and consumed the heart of the Gamester with corrosive agony.
THE ATHENIANS.
MARVILLE has given this pleasing account of the Athenians—
' The Greeks were so polished a nation, that they treated others as rude and barbarous; but, of all the Greeks, the Athenians possessed a more refined delicacy in the politer Arts, and an exquisite taste for Eloquence. The excellent Orators who arose amongst them had familiarized them with the most perfect beauties of composition.
' Pericles, whose eloquence they compared to lightnings and thunders, had so accustomed their minds to suffer nothing but what was pure, elegant, and finished, that those who had to speak in public, looked upon the lowest of the people as so many censurers of what they were going to say. But, if the genius of this people had become so delicate by the attic eloquence of their Orators, the native haughtiness of the Greeks was much increased by their servile adulation; so that it required a wonderful dexterity to stretch the empire of Persuasion over men who always would be treated like masters.
' The establishment of the singular law of
Ostracism,
which was occasioned by the tyranny of Pisistratus, caused a double increase of pride to this people, who were already so presumptuous. Thus runs the sentence of this famous law—"Let no one of us excel the others; and, if there should be one found of this description, let him go and excel elsewhere." By this law, those whose great merit and high reputation gave umbrage to their citizens, were banished for ten years.
' It was, in it's commencement, observed with so much rigour, that Aristides, who was surnamed
The Just,
and who had performed so many great actions for the glory of his country, was condemned to banishment: and, although this severity had greatly abated of it's rigour under Alcibiades, and that it was abolished in the course of time; there remained, in the manners and minds of the Athenians, a great jealousy of those who had distinguished themselves by some extraordinary merit; and a rigorous severity towards their Orators, which constrained them to be very circumspect. The rules they had imposed on them went so far as to prohibit their displaying ornaments too elaborate, which might disguise their real sentiments—images and motions, capable of affecting and softening their auditors—for they regarded the first as false lights, that might mislead their reason; and the latter, as attempts to encroach on their liberty, by swaying their passions. It is to this we must attribute that coldness and austerity which pervade the discourses of these Orators, and which rather proceeded from the restraint laid on them than from the qualities of their genius.
' Besides that the Athenians were haughty, jealous of their power, and austere towards their Orators, they had an impatience, and a volatility of disposition, which occasioned them frequently to pass from one extreme to another, by sudden and unexpected resolutions, and often broke all the measures and schemes of those who attempted to gain them over to their sentiments.
' A hand raised, or a loud cry from some factious person, in an assembly, was often the signal for an advice that was to be disclosed, or of a counsel which was to be taken: and as it happens, that those who are the most insolent when they command, are the most supple when they obey; the Athenians, who had been so haughty during the prosperity of their Republic, were the most abject slaves to the successors of Alexander; and afterwards to the Romans, when they became their masters. This feeble people had, in the bottom of their hearts, a fund of meanness and of timidity, which made them constrain their Orators to conform themselves to their manners and their genius. To succeed with them, it became necessary to appear to respect them, whilst they taught them to fear; to flatter and to censure them, at the same time—a policy which Demosthenes, who well knew this people, with great success so skilfully applied.
' This people has, however, produced great men, and in great numbers; but they had so seldom a share in the public resolutions, that their merit, of which they have left so many illustrious testimonies, cannot, however, make a general rule to judge of the character of this people.'
To this ingenious discrimination of the character of the Athenians, I cannot forbear transcribing an animated description of their luxuries, carried to such an excess of refinement, and opulent elegance, that those who are fond of censuring our modern dissipations, may be reminded, that we have never yet approached those of the Grecians or the Romans. It is extracted from Dr. Gillies's History of Greece.
' Instead of the bread, herbs, and simple fare, recommended by the Laws of Solon, the Athenians, soon after the 80th Olympiad, availed themselves of their extensive commerce, to import the delicacies of distant countries, which were prepared by all the refinements of cookery. The wines of Cyprus were cooled with snow in summer; in winter, the most delightful flowers adorned the tables and persons of the wealthy Athenians. Nor was it sufficient to be crowned with roses, unless they were likewise anointed with the most precious perfumes. Parasites, dancers, and buffoons, were an usual appendage of every entertainment. Among the weaker sex, the passion for delicate birds, distinguished by their voice or plumage, was carried to such excess, as merited the name of madness. The bodies of such youths as were not addicted to hunting and horses, which began to be a prevailing taste, were corrupted by a commerce of barlots, who had reduced their profession into
system,
while their minds were still more polluted by the licentious philosophy of the Sophists. It is unnecessary to croud the picture; vices and extravagance took root in Athens in an administration the most splendid and prosperous.'
Perhaps, this last observation is cleared up by the remarks of Marville; for it appears that, although at the helm of administration sat such illustrious characters, they had little or no share in the administration, since the haughtiness and volatility of the Athenians were such, that they would not even bear the reprimands of their Orators.
It has been observed, that even the Mechanics in Athens possessed a classic taste, and a niceness of ear, which could only be the effect of a general diffusion of national elegance. For an anecdote of their
Atticism,
take this.
Philip of Macedon, in the present age, would have merited the title of a Classical Scholar. I have already given the noble letter he wrote to Aristotle on the birth of his son. The present anecdote will prove, that he must have been—like the late Frederick—not less partial to the contemplative Minerva, than to the armed Pallas. To give a proof of his generosity, he made a present to the vanquished Athenians of five thousand measures of wheat; but this was not to be given by him without accompanying it by an oration. While he was holding his discourse to the people, he committed a solecism in language, which the attic ear of an Athenian immediately catching, he boldly reproved him. 'For this,' the Classic Monarch continued, 'I grant you five thousand more.'
POPE SIXTUS THE FIFTH.
A SINGULAR revolution of fortune happened to Pope Sixtus the Fifth. He was originally a swine-herd. When he first came to Rome, he was constrained to beg alms. Having collected a little silver, he one day stood deliberating with himself, whether he should employ it in the purchase of a loaf, which the keenness of his appetite reminded him would prove a very agreeable acquisition; or, in a pair of shoes, which his ten toes terribly complained of wanting. In this conflict of irresolution, his face betrayed the anxiety of his mind. A tradesman, who had for some time observed his embarrassment, asked him the occasion of it. He told him frankly the cause; but he did it in so facetious a manner, that the tradesman resolved to finish his perplexity by inviting him to a good dinner. When Sixtus became Pope, he did not forget to return the dinner to the benevolent tradesman.
To give an instance of his abilities as a Politician. When he first aspired in his mind to the Popedom, while he was yet a Cardinal, he counterfeited illness and old age for several
years.
During the Conclave, which was assembled to create a Pope, he continually leaned on his crutch; and very frequently interrupted the sage deliberations of the Conclave by a hollow cough, and violent spitting. This scheme took so well, that the Cardinals fell into the trap; and every one thinking that, by electing Sixtus, he might himself stand a chance of being in a short time elected, he was chosen unanimously. Soon after the election was concluded, the new Pope performed a
Miracle
: his legs became vigorous; his body, that had been before curbed, became firm and erect; his cough was dissipated; and he shewed, in a short time, of what he was capable.
THE SENATE OF JESUITS.
THERE is to be found, in a book intitled—'Interêts et Maximes des Princes et des Etats Souverains, Par M. Le Duc de Rohan; Cologne, 1666'—an anecdote concerning the Jesuits; so much the more curious, as neither Puffendorf or Vertot have noticed it in their Histories, though it's authority cannot be higher. It was probably unknown to them.
When Sigismond, King of Sweden, was elected King of Poland, he made a treaty with the States of Sweden, by which he obliged himself to pass every fifth year in that kingdom. In the course of time, being constrained, by the wars he had with the Ottoman Court, with Muscovy, and Tartary, to remain in Poland, to animate, by his presence, the wars he held with such powerful enemies; he failed, during fifteen years, of accomplishing his promise. To remedy this, in some shape, by the advice of the Jusuits, who had gained the ascendant over him, he created a Senate, which was to reside at Stockholm, composed of forty chosen Jesuits, to decide on every affair of state. He published a declaration in their favour; and presented them with letters-patent, by which he clothed them with the Royal authority.
While this senate of Jesuits was at Dantzic, waiting for a fair wind to set sail for Stockholm, he published an edict, that they should receive them as his own Royal person. A public Council was immediately held. Charles, the uncle of Sigismond, the Prelates, and the Lords, resolved to prepare for them a splendid and magnificent entry.
But, in a private Council, they came to very contrary resolutions: for the Prince said, he could not bear that a Senate of Priests should command, in preference to all the honours and authority of so many Princes and Lords, natives of the country. All the others agreed with him in rejecting this holy Senate. It was then the Archbishop rose, and said—'Since Sigismond has disdained to be our King, so also we must not acknowledge him as such; and from this moment we should no more consider ourselves as his subjects. His authority is
in suspenso,
because he has bestowed it on the Jesuits who form this Senate. The People have not yet acknowledged them. In this interval of resignation on the one side, and assumption of the other, I dispense you all of the fidelity the King may claim from you as his Swedish subjects.' When he had said this, the Prince of Bithynia, addressing himself to Prince Charles, uncle of the King, said—'I own no other King than you; and I believe you are now obliged to receive us as your affectionate subjects, and to assist us to chase these vermin from the state.' All the others joined him, and acknowledged Charles as their lawful Monarch.
Having resolved to keep their declaration for some time secret, they deliberated in what manner they were to receive and to precede this Senate in their entry into the harbour, who were on board a great galleon, which they had caused to cast anchor two leagues from Stockholm, that they might enter more magnificently in the night, when the fire-works they had prepared would appear to the greatest advantage. About the time of their reception, Prince Charles, accompanied by twenty-five or thirty vessels, appeared before the Senate. Wheeling about, and forming a caracol of ships, they discharged a volley, and emptied all their cannon on the galleon of this Senate, which had it's sides pierced through with the balls. The galleon was immediately filled with water, and sunk, without one of the unfortunate Jesuits being assisted; on the contrary, they cried to them, that this was the time to perform some miracle, such as they were accustomed to do in India and Japan; and, if they chose, they could walk on the waters!
The report of the cannon, and the smoke which the powder occasioned, prevented either the cries or the submersion of the Holy Fathers from being observed: and, as if they were conducting the Senate to the town, Charles entered triumphantly; went into the church, where they sung
Te Deum
; and, to conclude the night, he partook of the entertainment which had been prepared for the ill-fated Senate.
The Jesuits of the city of Stockholm having come, about midnight, to pay their respects to the Fathers of the Senate, perceived their loss: they directly posted up
placards
of excommunication against Charles and his adherents, who had caused the Senate to perish. They solicited the people to rebel; but they were soon chased from the city, and Charles made a public profession of Lutheranism.
Sigismond, King of Poland, began a war with Charles in 1604, which lasted two years. Disturbed by the invasions of the Tartars, the Muscovites, and the Cossacks, a truce was concluded.
THE BODY OF CAESAR.
A SKILFUL Orator sometimes employs persuasions more forcible than the figures or flowers of rhetoric can yield. Here is an instance—
Mark Anthony, haranguing the Roman people after the death of Caesar, who had just been assassinated by the Senate, held out to the observation of the people the
robe
of this great man, all bloody, and pierced through in two and twenty places. This made so great an impression on the minds of those who were present, that it appeared, not that Caesar
had been
assassinated, but that the conspirators were then actually assassinating him.
HISTORICAL MISREPRESENTATION.
THERE is a passion existing in the heart of man that I am at a loss whether to consider as proceeding from an excess of malevolence, or an excess of patriotism. This passion cannot bear even that the hero of a rival nation should be found to merit praise, though an interval of a thousand years may have elapsed since his days! Whole histories have been written in this style, where the historian has set out with a resolution of detracting from, or denying, the merits of a rival nation. To give an instance in modern times—
A French writer has wilfully misrepresented the famous anecdote recorded of our Canute, and endeavoured to convey an idea that we have ever been a nation of haughty barbarians. It cannot be ignorance, but wilful misrepresentation. The anecdote was never related but in one manner, and which reflects great honour on our ancient Monarch. The author attempts to prove, that the English nation have been overbearing from the remotest times; and this he instances by giving the anecdote of Canute in this senseless narration—
' Canute, King of England, imitating his predecessors, who called themselves Lords and Sovereigns of the sea, resolved to take possession of this title solemnly, that, in future times, it should not be contested. Persuaded that he could not render this act more authentic than by obliging the sea itself to come and pay him homage, as to it's Sovereign, about the time of the tide, he raised his throne by the sea-side; and there, apparelled in his royal robes, he held this language to the sea, when it rolled towards him—"Know, that thou art subjected to me: the earth on which I sit is mine; and that, till now, none has ever dared to revolt from my will. I command thee, then, that thou remain where thou art, without daring to approach thy Lord, and soil his robes!" Scarce had he concluded this speech, when a wave overturned his throne; and, having wetted him from his head to his feet, taught him in what manner he was to rely on the obedience of this element.'
Who does not here immediately perceive, that, to throw out a satirical stroke on the English nation for their naval power, the author has wilfully disguised this famous reproof of Canute to his courtiers, and endeavoured to turn into ridicule the pride and the boast of the British nation?
THE ITALIANS.
THE character of the Italians, even so late as in the last century, presents a melancholy contemplation to the Philosopher. How are we to account for a whole nation being infected with some of the darkest passions that stain the human soul? Atheism and Debauchery pervaded every rank; and the hand of the Italian continually grasped the dagger and the drug. What yet heightens the enormity of these crimes, is the 'immortal hatred'—to make use of a poetical expression—which characterized this Nation of Assassins. Naudé, who draws his remarks from personal observation, with one or two anecdotes, will inform the reader that these censures are not unjust.
' Italy is crouded with those kinds of men who penetrate as far into Nature as their abilities permit them; and, having done this, will believe nothing more. To trace God, in the disorder in which the world is now, we must possess modesty and humility. Italy abounds with Libertines and Atheists; yet the number of their writers, who have written on the Immortality of the Soul, is incredible. But I am apt to think that those very writers believe no more than the rest: for I hold this maxim certain, that
the doubt
in which they are in is one of the first causes that obliges them to write; and add, also, that all their writings are so feeble, that no one can strengthen, by their sentiments, his faith. Thus, instead of instructing, they make a reader perfectly sceptical.
'Italy is a country, at the same time, full of Impostures and Superstitions: some do not believe enough, and others believe every thing. Every day, without truth, and without reason, miracles take place. I remember that a certain poor man was nearly drowned, and was drawn out of the water almost dead. He recovered; and his recovery was firmly believed to be, because he happened to have in his chaplet a medal of Saint Philip of Neri. I did not see any thing miraculous in this, I said; and that it certainly was not always a miracle when a man escaped from being drowned: nor did I believe that Saint Philip thought one moment concerning the fate of this man.
' It is but three months since, that the church of this new saint fell in at Trepani, when more than a dozen of the congregation, who were invoking his favours, got wounded and killed. It was then, rather, that the saint should have shewn his miraculous powers, and have faved those good Christians who were supplicating God and his saintship. Had this been the case, it would have turned out an excellent Miracle, and, what few Miracles are accompanied by, have had a considerable number of witnesses to verify it.
' The Italians are an agreeable people enough; but, too frequently, they are found vindictive and treacherous. Revenge and treachery are the great sins of the Italians and the Easterns; and they poison to the very mice in their houses.
' It is a maxim received into the politics of this country, however it may be inimical to the laws of Christianity, that it is best to defend and to avenge ourselves before worse happens. As they have great sense, they will never offend you; but they will never pardon you, if you offend them; and they will pursue their revenge, after an interval of fifty years has elapsed since the offence had been first given. They have this Proverb much in esteem—'
Chi offende, non perdona mai.
'
Descartes, in one of his Letters, writes thus—'Be not so desirous to live under Italian skies; there is a contagion that poisons it's breezes; the heat of the day kindles a fever in the delicate frame; the evening airs are unwholesome; and the deep shades of the night
conceal
robberies and assassinations!'
The following anecdotes of Italian revenge are of good authority. An Italian feigned to be reconciled with one who had offended him. One evening, when they walked out together in a retired spot, the Italian seized him by the back; and, drawing a dagger, threatened to stab him if he did not abjure, and curse the Creator. The other, in vain, entreated that he might not be obliged to commit what he felt a horror in doing; but, to save his life, at length he complied. The assassin, having now compleated his wish, plunged the poignard in his bosom; and exultingly exclaimed, that he had revenged himself in the most dreadful manner possible; for he had caused the body and the soul of his enemy to perish at a single stroke!
One Giuseppe Bertoldo, after an absence of ten years, hearo that a person who had served him an ill turn, resided in flourishing circumstances at India. He embarks directly; he arrives; he follows him closely for two years; and, at length, having found him one day alone, and unarmed, in a solitary spot, he assassinates him.
There is a narration, written in Italian, in a manuscript in the French King's Library, tacked to the end of a Volume intitled—'
Le glorie degl' incogniti di Padoua.
' It displays a chain of treachery dishonourable to the human character. I had prepared a translation of this singular transaction; but, as I now find that Mr. Andrews has just given it in the Addenda to his Anecdotes, I refer the reader to that publication. In Addison's Travels, there is an account of an assassination in Italy, not less remarkable than those we have noticed. I shall add an instance of
poisoning,
which cannot fail to interest the reader of sensibility.
Francis of Medicis, after the death of his lady, fell deeply in love with a young noble Venetian, named Bianca Capella, whom he married. This lady, who passionately loved the Duke her husband, was the cause of his death; attempting to revenge herself
à l'Italienne
—as my Author expresses it—of a Prince who was a relation of Francis. She had, with this design, poisoned some olives that were to have been presented to him. Francis, having met the servant, took two, and eat them: very shortly after, he began to feel their mortal effects. Bianca Capella, who now saw the mistake that had taken place, and the
qui pro quo
that had caused the death of her beloved Duke, took also of the same olives; and, having swallowed them, she threw herself on the bed, embracing her dying Lord, and expired in his arms.
CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY.
MR. Morin has formed a little History of Poverty, which I shall endeavour to abridge.
It is difficult precisely to fix on the epoch of Poverty, or to mark with accuracy the moment of it's birth. Chronologists are silent; and those who have formed genealogies of the Gods, have not noticed this Deity's, though she has been admitted as such in the Pagan heaven, and has had temples and altars on earth. The Fabulists have pleasingly narrated of her, that at the feast which Jupiter gave on the birth of Venus, she modestly stood at the gate of the palace, to gather the remains of the celestial banquet; when she observed Plutus, the God of Riches, inebriated, not with wine, but with nectar, roll out of the heavenly residence; and, passing into the Olympian gardens, he threw himself on a vernal bank. She seized this opportunity to become familiar with the God. The frolicksome Deity honoured her with his caresses; and, from this amour sprung the God of Love, who resembles his father in jollity and mirth, and his mother in his nudity. This fabulous narration is taken from the divine Plato. Let us now turn to it's historic extraction.
Poverty, though of remote antiquity, did not exist from the earliest times. In the first Age, distinguished by the epithet of the Golden, it certainly was unknown. In the terrestrial Paradise it never entered. This Age, however, had but the duration of a flower: when it finished, Poverty began to appear. The ancestors of the human race, if they did not meet her face to face, knew her in a partial degree. She must have made a rapid progress at the time of Cain; for Josephus informs us, he scoured the country with a banditti. Proceeding from this obscure period, it is certain she was firmly established in the Patriarchal age. It is then we hear of Merchants, who publicly practised the commerce of vending slaves, which indicates the utmost degree of Poverty. She is distinctly marked by Job: this holy man protests, that he had nothing to reproach himself with respecting the Poor, for he had assisted them in their necessities.
As we advance in the Scriptures, we observe the Legislators paid great attentions to their relief. Moses, by his wise precautions, endeavoured to soften the rigours of this unhappy state. The division of lands, by tribes and families; the septennial jubilees; the regulation to bestow, at the harvest-time, a certain portion of all the fruits of the earth for those families who were in want; and the obligation of his moral law, to love one's neighbour as one's self; were so many mounds erected against the inundations of Poverty. It was thus that the Jews, under their Aristocratic government, had few or no Mendicants.—Their Kings were unjust; and, rapaciously seizing on inheritances which were not their right, increased the numbers of the poor. From the reign of David, there were oppressive governors, who devoured the people as their bread. It was still worse under the foreign powers of Babylon, of Persia, and the Roman Emperors. Such were the extortions of their Publicans, and the avarice of their Governors, that the number of Mendicants was dreadfully augmented; and, it was probably for that reason that the opulent families consecrated a tenth part of their property for their succours, as appears in the time of the Evangelists. In the preceding ages, no more was given—as their Casuists assure us—than the fortieth, or thirtieth part; a custom which this unfortunate nation to the present hour preserve and look on it as an indispensible duty; so much so, that if there are no poor of their nation where they reside, they send it to the most distant parts. The Jewish merchants always make this charity a regular charge in their transactions with each other; and, at the close of the year, render an account to the poor of their nation.
By the example of Moses, the ancient Legislators were taught to pay a similar attention to their poor. Like him, they published laws respecting the division of lands; and many ordinances were made for the benefit of those whom fires, inundations, wars, or bad harvests, had reduced to want. Convinced that
idleness
more inevitably introduced poverty than any other cause, they punished it rigorously. The Egyptians made it criminal; and no vagabonds or medicants were suffered, under any pretence whatever. Those who were convicted of slothfulness, and still refused to labour for the public, when labours were offered to them, were punished with death. It was the Egyptian task-masters who observed that the Israelites were an idle nation, and obliged them to furnish bricks for the erection of those famous pyramids, which are the works of men who otherwise had remained vagabonds and mendicants.
The same spirit inspired Greece. Lycurgus would not have in his republic either
poor
or
rich:
they lived and laboured in common. As, in the present times, every family has it's stores and cellars; so they had public ones, and distributed the provisions according to the ages and constitutions of the people. If the same regulation was not precisely observed by the Athenians, the Corinthians, and the other people of Greece, the same maxim existed in full force against idleness.
According to the laws of Draco, Solon, &c. a conviction of wilful poverty was punished with the loss of life. Plato, more gentle in his manners, would have them only banished. He calls them enemies of the state; and pronounces, as a maxim, that where there are great numbers of mendicants, fatal revolutions will happen; for, as these people have nothing to lose, they seize and plan opportunities to disturb the public repose.
The ancient Romans, whose universal object was the public prosperity, were not indebted to Greece on this head. One of the principal occupations of their Censors was to keep a watch on the vagabonds. Those who were condemned as incorrigible sluggards, were sent to the mines, or made to labour on the public edifices. The Romans of those times, unlike the present race, did not consider the
far niento
as a pleasing occupation: they were convinced, that their liberalities were ill-placed in bestowing them on such men. The little republics of the
Bees
and the
Ants
were often held out as an example; and the last, particularly, where Virgil says, that they have elected overseers, who correct the sluggards—
—Pars agmina cogunt
Castigant que moras.
VIRGIL.
And, if we may trust the narratives of our travellers, the
Beavers
pursue this regulation more rigorously and exact than even these industrious societies. But their rigour, although but animals, is not so barbarous as that of the ancient Germans; who, Tacitus informs us, plunged the idlers and vagabonds in the thickest mire of their marshes, and left them to perish by a kind of death that resembled their inactive dispositions.
Yet, after all, it was not inhumanity that prompted the ancients thus severely to chastise idleness: they were induced to it by a strict equity; and it would be doing them injustice to suppose, that it was thus they treated those
unfortunate poor
whose indigence was occasioned by infirmities, by age, or unforeseen calamities. They, perhaps, exceeded us in genuine humanity. Every family constantly assisted it's branches, to save them from being reduced to beggary; which, to them, appeared worse than death. The magistrates protected those who were destitute of friends, or incapable of labour. When Ulysses was disguised as a mendicant, and presented himself to Eurymachus, this Prince, observing him to be robust and healthy, offered to give him employment, or otherwise to leave him to his ill fortune. When the Roman Emperors, even in the reigns of Nero and Tiberius, bestowed their largesses, the distributors were ordered to except those from receiving a share whose bad conduct kept them in misery; for that it was better the lazy should die with hunger than be fed in idleness.
Whether the police of the ancients was more exact, or whether they were more attentive to practise the duties of humanity, or that slavery served as an efficacious corrective of idleness; it clearly appears how little was the misery, and how few the numbers, of their poor. This they did, too, without having recourse to hospitals.
At the establishment of Christianity, when the Apostles commanded a community of riches among their disciples, the miseries of the poor became alleviated in a greater degree. If they did not absolutely live together, as we have seen religious orders, yet the rich continually supplied their distressed brethren: but matters greatly changed under Constantine. This Prince, with the best intentions, published edicts in favour of those Christians who had been condemned, in the preceding reigns, to slavery, to the mines, the galleys, or prisons. The Church felt an inundation of prodigious crowds of these unhappy men, who brought with them urgent wants and corporeal infirmities. The Christian families formed then but a few: they could not satisfy these men. The magistrates protected them: they built spacious hospitals, under different titles, for the sick, the aged, the invalids, the widows, and orphans. The Emperors, and the most eminent personages, were seen in these hospitals, examining the patients. Sometimes they assisted the helpless, and sometimes dressed the wounded. This did so much honour to the new religion, that Julian the Apostate introduced this custom among the Pagans. But the best things are seen continually perverted.
These retreats were found not sufficient. Many slaves, proud of the liberty they had just recovered, looked on them as prisons; and, under various pretexts, wandered about the country. They displayed, with art, the scars of their former wounds, and exposed the imprinted marks of their chains. They found thus a lucrative profession in begging, which had been interdicted by the laws. The profession did not finish with them: men of an untoward, turbulent, and licentious disposition, gladly embraced it. It spread so wide, that the succeeding Emperors were obliged to institute new laws; and it was permitted to individuals to seize on these mendicants for their slaves and perpetual vassals: a powerful preservative against this disorder. It is observed in almost every part of the world but ours; and it is thus that nowhere they so abound with beggars. China presents us with a noble example. No beggars are seen loitering in their country. All the world are occupied, even to the blind and the lame. Those who are incapable of labour, live at the public expence. What is done
there,
may also be performed
here.
Then, instead of that hideous, importunate, idle, licentious poverty—as pernicious to the police as to morality—we should see the poverty of the earlier ages humble, modest, frugal, robust, industrious, and laborious. Then, indeed, the fable of Plato might be realized: Poverty may be embraced by the god of riches; and, if she did not produce the vuluptuous offspring of Love, she would become the fertile mother of Agriculture, and the ingenious mother of the fine Arts, and of all kinds of Manufactures.
SLAVERY.
I HAVE chiefly collected the present Anecdotes from the ingenious Compiler of
L'Esprit des Usages et des Coutumes.
'
It avails little to exclaim against Slavery; it is an evil so natural to man, that it is impossible totally to eradicate it. Man will be a tyrant; and, if he possessed an adequate strength, he would enslave whatever surrounded him. Dominion is so flattering to pride, and to idleness, that it is impossible to sacrifice it's enjoyments. Even the Slave himself requires to be attended by another Slave: it is thus with the Negro of Labat; who, since his state permits of none, assumes a despotic authority over his wife and children.
There are Slaves even with savages; and, if force cannot establish servitude, they employ other means to supply it. The Chief of the
Natchès
of Louisiana disposes at his will of the property of his subjects: they dare not even refuse him their head. He is a perfect despotic prince. When the presumptive heir is born, the people devote to him all the children at the breast, to serve him during his life. This petit Chief is a very Sesostris; he is treated in his cabin as the Emperor of China is in his palace. Indeed, the origin of his power is great: the
Natchès
adore the Sun, and this Sovereign has palmed himself on them for the Brother of the Sun!
Servitude is sometimes as pleasing to the slave as it is gratifying to the master; and can any thing more strongly convince us, that the greater part of men are unworthy of tasting the sweets of liberty? It was thus, when the Monarchs of France were desirous of despoiling the Barons of the authority they had usurped, the bondmen, accustomed to slavery, were slow in claiming their liberty. To effect this, it became necessary to
compel
them by laws; and Louis Hutin ordered, that those villains, or bondmen, who would not be enfranchised, should pay heavy fines.
The origin of Slavery, in some countries, arises from singular circumstances. If a Tartar met in his way a man, or woman, who could not shew a passport from the King, he would seize on the person as his right and property.
Formerly, in Circassia, when the husband and wife did not agree, they went to complain to the governor of the town. If the husband was the first who arrived, the governor caused the woman to be seized on and sold, and gave another to the husband; and, on the contrary, he seized on and sold the husband, if the wife arrived the first.
Liberality, and the desire of obliging—who could credit it?—occasion the depriving others of their liberty. An Islander of Mindanao, who redeems his son from Slavery, makes him his own slave; and children exercise the same benevolence and rigour on their parents.
In Rome, the debtor became the slave of his creditor; and, when it happened that they could take nothing from him who had lost every thing, they took his liberty. It is even believed, that the law of the Twelve Tables permitted them to cut into pieces an insolvent debtor!
It is since the establishment of the commerce and sale of Negroes, that men have committed the most enormous crimes. The Mulattoes of Loanda seduce the young women wherever they pass: they return to them, some years afterwards; and, under the pretext of giving the children a better education, they carry them off to sell them.
Thus, also, the women of Benguela, in collusion with their husbands, allure other men to their arms. The husband falls suddenly on them, imprisons the unfortunate gallants, and sells them the first opportunity; and he is not punished for these violences.
Besides, the Negroes sell their children, their parents, and their neighbours! They lead to the country-house of the merchant their unsuspicious victims, and there deliver them into the hands of their purchaser. While they are loaded with chains, and separated for ever from their most endearing connections, it is in vain they raise loud and melancholy cries: the infamous vender smiles, and says it is only a cunning trick. Le Maire informs us, that an old Negro resolved to sell his son: but the son, who suspected his design, hastened to the factor; and, having taken him aside, sold him his father!
The Islanders of Bissagos are passionately fond of spirituous liquors; and, on the arrival of a vessel, the weakest, without distinction of age, friendship, or relationship, become the prey of the strongest, that they may sell them to purchase liquors.
It appears that, in the East, and particularly at Batavia, the life of a slave entirely depends on the caprices of his master: the slightest fault brings on him the most afflicting treatment. They bind him to a gallows; they flog him unmercifully with splitted canes; his blood flows in a stream, and his body is covered with wounds: but, fearful that he may not die in sufficient tortures, they scatter abundantly over them salt and pepper. So little care is paid to these unfortunate men amongst the Maldivians, that they lie entirely at the mercy of every one. Those who practise on them any ill treatment, receive only half the punishment that the laws exact from any one who had ill-treated a free person. The slightest chastisement which is inflicted on them, at Java, is to carry about their necks a piece of wood, with a chain, and which they are condemned to drag all their lives.
The slaves of the kingdom of Angola, and many other countries of Africa, never address their masters but on their knees. They do not even allow them the honours of decent burial; they throw their bodies in the woods, where they become the food of wild beasts.
If those on the Gold Coast escape, and are retaken, they lose an ear for the first offence of this kind: a second offence is punished with the loss of the other. At the third, it is allowed their masters either to sell them to the Europeans, or to cut off their heads.
Religious fanaticism increases the inhumanity of the pirates of Africa. The Moors and the Europeans reciprocally detest each other; and, since they redeem their captives, the Mahometans have become unmerciful, that they may the more powerfully excite their friends to redeem them with heavy ransoms. We must not credit every thing Historians record; but it is certain that the police does not punish the master who kills his slaves; that religious prejudices totally stifle the feelings of humanity; and that the zealous Mussulman inflicts continual tortures on these unfortunate men, that they may abjure their religion.
The Spaniards, and the Knights of Malta, for their reprisals, chain to the galley all the Mahometans they make prisoners; and, it is thus that the fate of the Christian slaves on the Northern Coast of Africa, is the natural consequence of a war which never can terminate.
When the NEGROES of the Colonies solely depend on a brutal master, who can paint the horrors of their situation? Without dwelling on the cruelties which they suffer in Africa, before they are sold, and during the voyage; the greater part believe, that, after their embarkment from America, the Europeans intend to massacre them in the most terrible manner imaginable: to burn, calcine, and pulverize their bones, to be employed as gunpowder; and they also imagine, that the Europeans manufacture an oil with their fat and marrow.
If they do not finish their task, they are lashed with rods till they are covered with blood. Sometimes they pour over their raw wounds a pound of melted pitch; and sometimes they heighten their unsupportable smart by scattering over them handfuls of pepper!
The habit of suffering endows them with an admirable patience. It is thus
Labat
expresses himself on this head. 'They are seldom heard to cry out, or to complain. It is not owing to insensibility, for their flesh is extremely delicate, and their feelings irritable. It proceeds from an uncommon magnanimity of soul, which sets at defiance pain, grief, and death itself. I have more than once seen some broken on the wheel, and others tormented by the most dreadful machines inventive cruelty could produce, without their giving vent to one murmur, or shedding one tear. I saw a Negro burnt, who was so far from being affected, that he called for a little lighted tobacco, on his way to the place of execution; and I observed him smoak with great calmness, at the moment his feet were consuming in the midst of the flames. There were two Negroes condemned; the one to the gallows, the other to be whipped by the hand of the executioner. The Priest, in a mistake, confessed him who was not to have died. They did not perceive it, till the moment the executioner was going to throw him off; they made him descend; the other was confessed; and, although he expected only to be whipped, he mounted the ladder with as much indifference as the first descended from it, and as if the choice of either fate was alike to him.'
How grievous must be the unfortunate destiny of those Negroes, when they possess a soul so great, and sentiments so sublime! Atkins, examining once some slaves, observed one of a noble slature, who appeared to him not less vigorous than imperious; he glanced on his companions, whenever they murmured or wept, looks of reproach and disdain. He never turned his eyes on the overseer; and, if commanded to rise, or to stretch his leg, he did not by any means immediately obey. His exasperated master wearied himself with lashing his naked body with his rod. He was going to dispatch him in his fury, had it not been observed to him, that if he sold him, he might get an uncommon price for a slave of his appearance. The Negro supported this persecution with heroic intrepidity; he preserved a rigid silence; a tear or two only trickled down his cheek; when, as if he blushed for his weakness, he turned aside to hide them. 'I learnt,' Atkins writes, 'that he was a Chief of some villages who had just come from opposing the slave-traffic of the English.' Mr. Mackenzie, in one of his Novels, has described this scene with the pen of a Master; and certainly draws the picture after the description of Atkins.
Many European nations abandon the Negroes to the caprice of their masters, or to the despotic decision of the Magistrate. The French have drawn up some regulations, which have been called
the Black Code.
This article trespasses so much on our usual limits, that we cannot extract any for the contemplation of the reader; let it be sufficient, however, to observe, that they are eternal records of European cupidity and European inhumanity.
In a word, they have reduced them to the degree of brutes, and they have treated them with infinitely more inhumanity. Whatever the arbitrary decrees of a Planter—continues our ingenious Compiler—may perform, they cannot take from them the human figure, nor the human voice; they seem, indeed, exasperated to find, that they bear an affinity to their own species!
A NEW RELIGION.
ALL the world knows how successful some impostors have been in the establishment of Religions. We Europeans are well persuaded, that the Jewish and the Christian are derived from Divine authority. We are perfectly satisfied that Mahomet, Manco Capac, Confucius, the Lama of Tartary, are impostors. Though a greater number of nations respect
their
various holy scriptures than the true Bible, as voyagers have made new discoveries, new Religions have been discovered. The list of religious impostors it is not difficult to augment. The Jews have seen five or six fictitious Messiahs—Sabbatei Sevi the most remarkable of them. I am convinced, that not a few Religions have failed in their establishment; and I will oppose to these impostors a man, who was more learned and able than any of them. But circumstances were not favourable to his system: he had not, like Mahomet, to join with his Alcoran, a good armoury of swords in his possession.
About the middle of the fifteenth century, some time before the Turks had become masters of Constantinople, a great number of Philosophers flourished.
Gemistus Plethon
was one distinguished by the excellence of his genius, by the depth of his erudition, and chiefly by his being a warm Platonist. Such were his eminent abilities, that, in his old age, those whom his novel system had greatly irritated, either feared or respected him. He had scarcely breathed his last moments, when they began to abuse Plato and our Plethon. Here is an account, written by George of Trebizond—
' There has lately arose, amongst us, a second Mahomet; and this second, if we do not take care, will exceed in greatness the first, by the dreadful consequences of his wicked doctrine, as the first has exceeded Plato. A disciple and rival of this Philosopher, in philosophy, in eloquence, and in science, he had fixed his residence in the Peloponnese. His common name was
Gemistus,
but he assumed that of
Plethon.
Perhaps Gemistus, to make us believe more easily that he was descended from heaven, and to engage us to receive more readily his doctrine and his new law, wished to change his name, according to the manner of the ancient patriarchs; of whom it is said, that at the time the name was changed they were called to the greatest things. He has writen with wonderful art, and with great elegance. He has given new rules for the conduct of life, and for the regulation of human affairs; and, at the same time, has vomited forth a great number of blasphemies against the Catholic religion. It is certain, he was so zealous a Platonist, that he entertained no other sentiments than those of Plato, concerning the nature of the Gods, Souls, Sacrifices, &c. I have heard him, myself, when we were together at Florence, say that, in a few years, all men on the face of the earth would embrace, with one common consent, and with one mind, a single and simple religion, at the first instructions which should be given by a single preaching. And when I asked him, if it would be the religion of Jesus Christ, or that of Mahomet? he answered, "Neither one nor the other; but a
third,
which will not greatly differ from
Paganism.
" These words I heard with so much indignation, that since that time I have always hated him: I look upon him as a dangerous viper; and I cannot think of him without abhorrence.'
The pious writer of this account is too violently agitated: he might, perhaps, have bestowed a smile of pity, or contempt; but the bigots of religion are not less insane than the impious themselves.
It was when Plethon died, that the malice of his enemies collected all it's venom. We cannot but acknowledge, from this circumstance, that his abilities must have been astonishingly vast, to have kept such crowds silent: and, it is not improbable, this scheme of impiety was less impious than the majority of the people imagined. Not a few Catholic writers lament that his Book was burnt, and greatly regret the loss of Plethon's work; which, they say, was not meant to subvert the Christian religion, but only to unfold the system of Plato, and to collect what he and other Philosophers had written on Religion and Politicks. At the same time, however, we must recollect the express words of Plethon, which we come from transcribing as given us by George of Trebizond.
Of his religious scheme, the reader may now judge, by this summary account. The general title of the volume ran thus—'This Book treats of the Laws, of the best Form of Government, and what all Men must observe in their public and private Stations, to live together in the most perfect, the most innocent, and the most happy Manner.' The whole was divided into Three Books. The titles of the chapters, where Paganism was openly inculcated, are reported by Gennadius, who condemned it to the flames, but who has not thought proper to enter into the manner of his arguments, &c. The impiety and the extravagance of this new Legislator appeared, above all, in the articles which concerned Religion. He acknowledges a plurality of gods: some superior, whom he placed above the heavens; and the others, inferior, on this side the heavens. The first, existing from the remotest antiquity; the others younger, and of different ages. He gave a King to all these gods; and he called him ΖΕΥΣ—or
Jupiter
—as the Pagans named this power formerly. According to him, the Stars had a Soul; the Demons were not malignant Spirits; and the World was eternal. He established Polygamy; and was even inclined to a community of women. All his work was filled with such follies; and with not a few impieties, which my pious Author will not venture to give.
What the intentions of Plethon were, it would be rash and ungenerous in us to determine. If the work was only an arrangement of the Heathen notions, it was an innocent and curious volume. It is allowed, that he was uncommonly learned and humane, and had not passed his life entirely in the solitary recesses of his study.
I cannot quit this article, without recollecting two similar works even of the present day. The ideas of the phrenetic
Emanuel Swedenburgh
are warmly cherished by a sect, who have so far disgraced themselves as to bestow on their society the name of this man. It is but very lately that a work was published, by a Mr. T. Taylor, who openly professed Paganism! A book published by the
Athenian Stuart,
as he is called, is not less to be distinguished—Yet we have only
one
hospital dedicated to Saint Luke in this metropolis!
EDWARD THE FOURTH.
OUR Edward the Fourth was a gay and voluptuous Prince; and, what is singular, he probably owed to his enormous debts, and passion for the fair-sex, his crown. He had not
one
Jane Shore, but
many.
Hear honest Philip de Comines, his contemporary. He says, that what greatly contributed to his entering London as soon as he appeared at it's gates, was the great debts this Prince had contracted, which made his creditors gladly assist him; and the high favour in which he was held by the
Bourgeoises,
into whose good graces he had frequently glided, and who gained him over their husbands—who, I suppose, for the tranquillity of their lives, were glad to depose or raise Monarchs.
These are De Comine's words—'Many ladies, and rich citizens wives, of whom formerly he had great privacies and familiar acquaintance, gained over to him their husbands and relations.'
This is the description of his voluptuous life: we must recollect, that the writer had been an eye-witness, and was an honest man; while modern Historians only view objects through the coloured medium of their imagination, and do not always merit the latter appellation.
' He had been, during the last twelve years, more accustomed to his ease and pleasures than any other Prince who lived in his time. He had nothing in his thoughts but
les dames,
and of them more than was
reasonable
; and hunting-matches, good eating, and great care of his person. When he went, in their seasons, to these hunting-matches, he always caused to be carried with him great pavilions for
les
dames
; and, at the same time, gave splendid entertainments: so that it is not surprizing that his person was as jolly as any one I ever saw. He was then young, and as handsome as any man of his age; but he has since become enormously fat.'
Since I have got old Philip in my hand, the reader will not, perhaps, be displeased, if he attends to a little more of his
naiveté,
which will appear in the form of a
conversazione
of the times. He now relates what passed between Edward and the King of France—
' When the ceremony of the oath was concluded, our King, who was desirous of being friendly, began to say to the King of England, in a laughing way, that he must come to Paris, and be jovial amongst our Ladies; and that he would give him the Cardinal de Bourbon for his Confessor, who would very willingly absolve him of any
sin
which perchance he might commit. The King of England seemed well-pleased at the invitation, and laughed heartily; for he knew that the said Cardinal was
un fort bon compagnon.
When the King was returning, he spoke on the road to me; and said, that he did not like to find the King of England so much inclined to come to Paris. "He is," said he, "a very
handsome
King; he likes the women too much. He may probably find one at Paris that may make him like to come too often, or stay too long. His predecessors have already been too much at Paris and in Normandy." And that his company was not agreeable
this side of the sea
; but that, beyond the sea, he wished to be
bon frere et amy.
'
I feel an inclination to give another conversation-piece; but, lest the reader should not so keenly relish the honest old Narrator as myself, it may be necessary to restrain my pen.
A RELIC.
HENRY the Third was deeply tainted with the vilest superstition. He was a Prince of a dastardly disposition; and, like all bigots, endeavoured, by mean subterfuge and low cunning, to circumvent others: incapable of that noble frankness which characterizes an honest man not bigotted to the senseless rites of superstition. As an instance of his bigotry, take this account of a Relic which is too curious to abridge—
' Henry summoned all the great men of the kingdom, A. D. 1247, to come to London on the festival of Saint Edward, to receive an account of a certain sacred benefit which
Heaven
had lately bestowed on England. The singular strain of this summons excited the most eager curiosity, and brought great multitudes to London at the time appointed. When they were all assembled in Saint Paul's Church, the King acquainted them, that the Great Master of the Knights Templars had sent him, by one of his Knights, a phial of crystal, containing a
small portion of the precious blood of Christ,
which he had shed upon the
Cross
for the salvation of the world,
attested to be genuine
by the seals of the Patriarch of Jerusalem, of several Archbishops, Bishops, and Abbots. This, he informed them, he designed to carry, the next day, in solemn procession, to Westminster, attended by them, and by all the Clergy of London, in their proper habits, with their banners, crucifixes, and wax-candles; and exhorted all who were present to prepare themselves for that sacred solemnity, by spending the night in watching, fasting, and devout exercises. On the morrow, when the procession was put in order, the King approached the sacred phial with
reverence, fear,
and
trembling
; took it in both his hands; and, holding it up higher than his face, proceeded under a canopy, two assistants supporting his arms. Such was the devotion of Henry on this occasion, that, though the road between Saint Paul's and Westminster was very deep and miry, he kept his eyes constantly
fixed on the phial,
or on
heaven.
When the procession approached Westminster, it was met by two Monks of that Abbey, who conducted it into the church, where the King deposited the venerable Relic; which,' says the Historian, 'made all England shine with glory, dedicating it to God and Saint Edward.'
VICAR OF BRAY.
THE reader has frequently heard this revered Son of the Church mentioned; probably, his name may have outlived the recollection of his pious manoeuvres.
The Vicar of Bray, in Berkshire, was a Papist under the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Edward the Sixth; he was a Papist again under Queen Mary, and at length became a Protestant in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. When this scandal to the gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, he made answer—'I cannot help that: but, if I changed my religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle; which is, to live and die Vicar of Bray!'
SPANISH ETIQUETTE.
THE Etiquette—or Rules to be observed in the royal palaces—is necessary, observes Baron Bielfield, for keeping order at court. In Spain, it was carried to such lengths as to make martyrs of their Kings. Here is an instance; at which, in spite of the fatal consequences it produced, one cannot refrain from smiling—
Philip the Third being
gravely seated
—as Spaniards generally are—by a chimney where the fire-maker of the court had kindled so great a quantity of wood that the Monarch was nearly suffocated with heat, his
grandeur
would not suffer him to rise from the chair; and the domestics could not
presume
to enter the apartment, because it was against the
Etiquette.
At length, the Marquis de Potat appeared, and the King ordered him to damp the fires: but
he
excused himself; alledging, that he was forbidden by the
Etiquette
to perform such a function, for which the Duke D'Usseda ought to be called upon, as it was his business. The Duke was gone out; the
fire
burnt fiercer; and the
King
endured it, rather than derogate from his
dignity.
But his blood was heated to such a degree, that an erysipelas broke out in his head the next day; which, being succeeded by a violent fever, carried him off in 1621, and in the twenty-fourth year of his age.
The palace was once on fire; when a soldier, who knew the King's sister was in her apartment, and must inevitably have been consumed in a few moments by the flames, at the risk of his life, rushed in, and brought her Highness safe out in his arms: but the Spanish
Etiquette
was here woefully broken into! The loyal soldier was brought to trial; and, as it was impossible to deny that he had entered her apartment, the judges condemned him to die! The Spanish Princess, however, condescended, in consideration of the circumstance, to
pardon
the soldier, and very benevolently saved his life!
After this, we may exclaim, with our English Satirist—
Spain gives us
pride
—which Spain to all the earth
May largely give, nor fear herself a dearth!
CHURCHILL.
HELL.
THE Cardinal Bellarmin, in his Treatise
du Purgatoire,
seems to be as familiarly acquainted with the secret tracks and the formidable divisions of '
the bottomless pit,
' as Swedenburgh was with the streets and bye-corners of '
the New Jerusalem.
'
He informs us, that there are, beneath the earth, four different places, or a profound place divided into four parts. He says, that the deepest place is
Hell
; which contains all the souls of the damned, where will be also their bodies after the Resurrection, and where likewise will be inclosed all the Demons. The place nearest Hell is
Purgatory,
where souls are purged; or, rather, where they appease the anger of God by their sufferings. He says, that the same fires, and the same torments, alike afflict in both these places; and that the only difference between Hell and Purgatory, consists in their duration. Next to Purgatory, is the
Limbo
of those
Infants
who die without having received the Sacrament: and the fourth place is the
Limbo
of the
Fathers
; that is to say, of those Just Men who died before the death of Jesus Christ. But since the days of the Redeemer, this last division is empty: so that here is an apartment to be let!
Such ideas are the
tenets
which some, from the dawn of their reason, entertain with religious veneration. It has even been acknowledged by the bigots, that the more ridiculous, or the more unintelligible, may be the subject for belief, the greater merit it is to receive it without hesitation. Men have persuaded themselves, that what bears the strongest evidence of falshood, is the sacred truth of a paternal Deity. And it had been well if, on speculative points, they had only
differed
with their more rational or innocent fellow-creatures. But these bigots have written, in the warm
blood
of humanity, the articles of their faith. They have reared an altar to Superstition, on which they have not sacrificed the Scape-Goat, or the Paschal Lamb; but they have plunged the sacerdotal knife into the bosom of their fellow-creatures. They have agonized the individual with the flaming
Auto da fés
of the Inquisition: with a more dreadful scope, they have sent thousands, with the sword of the Crusade, to spread desolation in parts which had never till then heard of their name; and, gratifying at once their avarice and their religion, cities have been razed, and millions of inoffensive men swept from the face of the earth, because it had pleased Providence to place in their countries mines of gold and seas of pearl.
DOUGLAS.
IT may be recorded as a species of Puritanic savageness and Gothic barbarism, that, no later than in the year 1757, a Man of Genius was persecuted because he had written a Tragedy, which tended by no means to hurt the morals; but, on the contrary, by awakening the sweetest pity, and the nobler passions, would rather elevate the soul, and purify the mind.
When Mr. Home, the Author of the Tragedy of Douglas, had it performed at Edinburgh; and, because some of the Divines, his acquaintance, attended the representation, the Clergy, with the monastic spirit of the darkest ages, published the present Paper, which I shall abridge for the contemplation of the reader, who may wonder to see such a composition written in the eighteenth century.
' On Wednesday, February the 2d, 1757, the Presbytery of Glasgow came to the following resolution. They having seen a printed Paper, intituled—"An Admonition and Exhortation of the reverend Presbytery of Edinburgh;" which, among other
evils
prevailing, observing the following
melancholy,
but
notorious,
facts: that one, who is a Minister of the Church of Scotland, did
himself
write and compose
a Stage-play,
intituled—"The Tragedy of Douglas," and got it to be acted at the theatre of Edinburgh; and that he, with several other Ministers of the Church, were present; and
some
of them,
oftener than once,
at the acting of the said Play, before a numerous audience. The Presbytery, being
deeply affected
with this new and strange appearance, do publish these sentiments, &c.'—Sentiments with which I will not disgust the reader.
THE LOVER'S HEART.
THE following Tale is recorded in the Historical Memoirs of Champagne, by Bougier. It has been a favourite narrative with the old Romance writers; and the principal incident, however objectionable, has been displayed in several modern poems. It is probable, that the
true
History will be acceptable, for it's tender and amorous incident, to the fair reader.
The Lord De Coucy, vassal to the Count De Champagne, was one of the most accomplished youths of his time. He loved, with an excess of passion, the lady of the Lord Du Fayel, who felt for him reciprocal ardours. It was with the most poignant grief, this lady heard her lover acquaint her, that he had resolved to accompany the King and the Count De Champagne to the wars of the Holy Land; but she could not oppose his wishes, because she hoped that his absence might dissipate the jealousy of her husband. The time of departure having come, these two lovers parted with sorrows of the most lively tenderness. The lady, in quitting her lover, presented him with some rings, some diamonds, and with a string that she had woven herself of his own hair, intermixed with silk and buttons of large pearls, to serve him, according to the fashion of those days, to tie a magnificent hood which covered his helmet. This he gratefully accepted, and instantly departed.
When he arrived in Palestine, he received at the siege of Acre, in 1191, in gloriously ascending the ramparts, a wound, which was declared mortal. He employed the few moments he had to live, in writing to the Lady Du Fayel; and he made use of those fervid expressions which were natural to him in his afflictive situation. He ordered his Squire to embalm his heart after his death, and to convey it to his beloved mistress, with the presents he had received from her hands in quitting her.
The Squire, faithful to the dying commands of his master, returned immediately to France, to present the heart and the presents to the Lady of Du Fayel. But, when he approached the castle of this lady, he concealed himself in the neighbouring wood, till he could find some favourable moment to compleat his promise. He had the misfortune to be observed by the husband of this lady, who recognized him, and who immediately suspected he came in search of his wife with some message from his master. He threatened to deprive him of his life, if he did not divulge what had occasioned him to come there. The Squire gave him for answer, that his master was dead; but Du Fayel not believing it, drew his sword to murder him. This man, frightened at the peril in which he found himself, confessed every thing; and put into his hands the heart and letter of his master. Du Fayel, prompted by the fellest revenge, ordered his cook to mince the heart; and, having mixed it with meat, he caused a ragout to be made, which he knew pleased the taste of his wife, and had it served to her. This lady eat greedily of the dish. After the repast, Du Fayel inquired of his wife, if she had found the ragout according to her taste: she answered him, that she had found it excellent. 'It is for this reason,' he replied, 'that I caused it to be served to you, for it is a kind of meat which you very much liked. You have, Madam,' the savage Du Fayel continued, 'eat the heart of the Lord De Coucy.' But this she would not believe, till he shewed her the letter of her lover, with the string of his hair, and the diamonds she had given him. Then, shuddering in the anguish of her sensations, and urged by the darkest despair, she told him—'It is true that I loved that heart, because it merited to be loved: for never could it find it's superior; and, since I have eaten of so noble a meat, and that my stomach is the tomb of so precious a heart, I will take care that nothing of inferior worth shall be mixed with it.' Grief and passion choaked her utterance. She retired into her chamber: she closed the door for ever; and, refusing to accept of consolation or food, the amiable victim expired on the fourth day.
THE HISTORY OF GLOVES.
THE present learned and curious dissertation I have compiled from the papers of an ingenious Antiquarian. The originals are to be found in the Republic of Letters. Vol. X. p. 289.
To proceed regularly, we must first enquire into the antiquity of this part of dress; and secondly, shew it's various uses in the several ages of the world.
Some have given them a very early original, imagining they are noticed in the 108th Psalm, where the Royal Prophet declares, he will cast his
Shoe
over Edom. They go still higher; supposing them to be used in the times of the Judges, Ruth iv. 7. where it is said, it was the custom for a man to take off his
Shoe,
and give it to his neighbour, as a token of redeeming or exchanging any thing. They tell us,
the word
which in these two texts is usually translated
Shoe,
is by the Chaldee paraphrast in the latter, rendered
Glove.
Casaubon is of opinion, that
Gloves
were worn by the Chaldeans, because the word here mentioned is in the Talmud Lexicon explained,
the cloathing of the hand.
But it must be confessed, all these are mere conjectures; and the Chaldean paraphrast has taken an unallowable liberty in his version.
Let us, then, be content to begin with the authority of
Xenophon.
He gives a clear and distinct account of
Gloves.
Speaking of the manners of the Persians, he gives us a proof of their effeminacy; that, not satisfied with covering their head and their feet, they also guarded their hands against the cold with
thick Gloves. Homer,
speaking of Laertes at work in his garden, represents him with
Gloves on his hands, to secure them from the thorns. Varro,
an ancient Writer, is an evidence in favour of their antiquity among the Romans. In Lib. ii. Cap. 55.
de Re Rustica,
he says, that olives gathered by the naked hand, are preferable to those gathered with
Gloves. Athenaeus
speaks of a celebrated glutton, who always came to table with
Gloves
on his hands, that he might be able to handle and eat the meat while hot, and devour more than the rest of the company.
These authorities shew, that the ancients were not strangers to
Gloves
; though, perhaps, their use might not be so common as amongst us. When the ancient severity of manners declined, the use of
Gloves
prevailed among the Romans; but not without some opposition from the Philosophers.
Musonius,
a Philosopher, who lived at the close of the first century of Christianity, among other invectives against the corruption of the age, says,
It is a shame, that persons in perfect health should clothe their hands and feet with soft and hairy coverings.
Their convenience, however, soon made their use general.
Pliny
the Younger informs us, in his account of his uncle's journey to Vesuvius, that his secretary sat by him, ready to write down whatever occurred remarkable; and that he had
Gloves
on his hands, that the coldness of the weather might not impede his business.
In the beginning of the ninth century, the use of
Gloves
was become so universal, that ever the Church thought a regulation in that part of dress necessary. In the reign of
Lewis le Debonnaire,
the Council of Aix ordered, that the Monks should only wear
Gloves
made of sheep-skin.
That Time has made alterations in the form of this, as in all other apparel, appears from the old pictures and monuments.
Let us now proceed to point out the various uses of
Gloves
in the several ages; for, beside their original design for a covering of the hand, they have been employed on several great and solemn occasions: as in the ceremony of
Investitures,
in bestowing lands; or, in conferring
dignities.
Giving possession by the delivery of a
Glove,
prevailed in several parts of Christendom in later ages. In the year 1002, the Bishops of Paderborn and Moncerco were put into possession of their Sees by receiving a
Glove.
It was thought so essential a part of the episcopal habit, that some Abbots in France, presuming to wear
Gloves,
the Council of Poitiers interposed in the affair, and forbid them the use of them, on the same footing with the ring and sandals, as being peculiar to Bishops.
Monsieur Favin observes, that the custom of blessing
Gloves
at the Coronation of the Kings of France, which still subsists, is a remain of the Eastern practice of Investiture by
a Glove.
A remarkable instance of this ceremony is recorded in the German History. The unfortunate
Conradin
was deprived of his crown and his life by the usurper
Mainfroy.
When, having ascended the scaffold, the injured Prince lamented his hard fate, he asserted his right to the Crown; and, as a token of Investiture, threw his
Glove
among the crowd; begging it might be conveyed to some of his relations, who should revenge his death. It was taken up by a Knight, who brought it to Peter, King of Arragon, who was afterwards crowned at Palermo.
As the delivery of
Gloves
was once a part of the ceremony used in giving possession; so the depriving a person of them, was a mark of divesting him of his office, and of degrading him. Andrew Herkley, Earl of Carlisle, was, in the reign of Edward the Second, impeached of holding a correspondence with the Scots, and condemned to die as a traitor. Walsingham, relating other circumstances of his degradation, says—'His spurs were cut off with a hatchet; and his
Gloves
and shoes were taken off, &c.'
Another use of
Gloves
was in a duel: on which occasion, he who threw one down, was thereby understood to give defiance; and he who took it up, to accept the challenge.
The use of single combat, at first designed only for a trial of innocence, like the ordeal fire and water, was, in succeeding ages, practised for deciding right and property. Challenging by the
Glove
was continued down to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, as appears by an account given by Spelman, of a duel appointed to be fought in Tothill Fields, in the year 1571. The dispute was concerning some lands in the county of Kent. The Plaintiffs appeared in Court, and demanded a single combat. One of them threw down his
Glove.
which the other immediately took up, carried off on the point of his sword, and the day of fighting was appointed; but the matter was adjusted in an amicable manner by the Queen's judicious interference.
Though such combats are now no longer in use, we have one ceremony still remaining among us, in which the challenge is given by a
Glove
; viz. at the Coronation of the Kings of England: upon which occasion, his Majesty's champion, compleatly armed, and well mounted, enters Westminster Hall, and proclaims that, if any man shall deny the Prince's title to the crown, he is ready to maintain and defend it by single combat. After which declaration, he throws down his
Glove,
or gauntlet, as a token of defiance.
This custom of challenging by the
Glove
is still in use in some parts of the world. It is common in Germany, on receiving an affront, to send a
Glove
to the offending party, as a challenge to a duel.
The last use of
Gloves
to be mentioned here was for carrying the
Hawk,
which is very ancient. In former times, Princes and other great men took so much pleasure in carrying the Hawk on their hand, that some of them have chosen to be represented in this attitude. There is a monument of Philip the First of France still remaining; on which he is represented at length, on his tomb, holding a
Glove
in his hand.
Mr. Chambers says that, formerly, judges were forbid to wear
Gloves
on the bench. No reason is assigned for this prohibition. Our judges lie under no such restraint; for both they and the rest of the court make no difficulty of receiving
Gloves
from the sheriffs, whenever the session or assize concludes without any one receiving sentence of death, which is called a
Maiden Assize.
This custom is of great antiquity.
Our curious Antiquarian has also preserved a very singular anecdote concerning
Gloves.
Chambers informs us, that it is not safe at present to enter the stables of Princes without pulling off the
Gloves.
He does not, indeed, tell us in what the danger consists. A friend from Germany explains the matter. He says, it is an ancient established custom in that country, that whoever enters the stables of a Prince, or great man, with his
Gloves
on his hands, is obliged to forfeit them, or redeem them by a fee to the servants. The same custom is observed in some places at the death of the stag; in which case, the
Gloves,
if not taken off, are redeemed by money given to the huntsmen and keepers. This is practised in France; and the late King never failed of pulling off one of his
Gloves
on that occasion. The reason of this ceremony is not known.
We meet with the term
Glove-money
in our old records; by which is meant, money given to servants to buy
Gloves.
This, no doubt, gave rise to the saying of
giving a pair of
Gloves,
to signify making a present for some favour or service.
To the honour of the
Glove,
it has more than once been admitted as a term of the tenure or holding lands. One Bortran, who came in with William the Conqueror, held the Manor of Farnham Royal by the service of providing a
Glove
for the King's right-hand on the day of his coronation, and supporting the same hand that day while the King held the royal sceptre. In the year 1177, Simon de Mertin gave a grant of his lands in consideration of fifteen shillings, one pair of
white Gloves
at Easter, and one pound of cummin.
CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.
MISCELLANEA.
ARTIFICIAL MEMORY.
THE present is an article that, perhaps, may be thought by many readers apocryphal.
When Muretus was at Rome, (says Scaliger)—by was of Parenthesis, I must observe, the relator and the auditor were the two first scholars in Europe—there came, one day, to the palace of the French ambassador, a Florentine of a very ill-favoured countenance, and whose eyes were continually declined on the ground. It was said, that he possessed, in a wonderful degree, an Artificial Memory. To give a proof of his powers, he begged the company, who were numerous, to seat themselves regularly, that he might not be disturbed; and that they would order to be written down to the number of
fifty thousand words:
assuring them, that if they pronounced them distinctly, and if afterwards they were read slowly, he would repeat every word without hesitation. This was done. They would only have troubled him with a few: but he insisted that they should proceed. The Secretary of the Ambassador was employed full
two hours
in writing the most singular words the company could select; and, among them, was a Cardinal Peleve, who gave him Polysyllables in the best or longest manner of our late Lexicographer. The Florentine, to the astonishment of the audience, recited them without the smallest omission; and this he did, beginning sometimes at the end, and sometimes in the middle. He said, that this Artificial Memory had caused him totally to lose his natural one.
Jedediah Buxton's
singular memory appears to have been of a different cast: he could only
count
words, &c. for when he went to the play, he is said to have enumerated the
words
of Garrick, and the
steps
of the dancers; but he had not, like this man, any one who could be capable of contradicting him.
BEARDS THE DELIGHT OF ANCIENT BEAUTIES.
WHEN the Fair were accustomed to behold their Lovers with Beards, the sight of a shaved chin excited sentiments of horror and aversion; as much indeed as, in this effeminate age, would a gallant whose 'hairy excrement' should
Stream like a meteor to the troubled air.
To obey the injunctions of his Bishops, Louis the Seventh of France cropped his hair, and shaved his beard. Eleanor of Acquitaine, his consort, found him, with this uncommon appearance, very ridiculous, and very contemptible. She revenged herself, by becoming something more than a coquette. The King obtained a divorce. She then married the Count of Anjou, who shortly after ascended the English throne. She gave him, for her marriage dower, the rich provinces of Poitou and Guienne; and this was the origin of those wars which for three hundred years ravaged France, and which cost the French nation three millions of men. All which, probably, had never taken place, if Louis the Seventh had not been so rash as to crop his hair and shave his beard, by which he became so disgustful in the eyes of the fair Eleanor.
WAX-WORK.
WAX-WORK has been brought sometimes to a wonderful perfection. We have heard of many curious deceptions occasioned by the imitative powers of this plastic matter. There have been several exhibitions in London, which have pretended to an excellence they did not attain. It must be confessed, that a saloon, occupied by figures that represent eminent personages, forms a grand idea. To approach Voltaire, Franklin, or the great Frederick, yields to their admirers a delightful sensation. If we contemplate with pleasure an insipid Portrait, how much greater is the pleasure, when, in an assemblage, they appear wanting nothing but that language and those actions which a fine imagination can instantaneously bestow!
There was a work of this kind which Menage has noticed, and which must have appeared a little miracle. In the year 1675, the Duke of Maine received a gilt cabinet, about the size of a moderate table. On the door was inscribed—
The Chamber of Wit.
The inside displayed an alcove and a long gallery. In an arm-chair was seated the figure of the Duke himself, composed of wax, the resemblance the most perfect imaginable. On one side stood the Duke de la Rochefoucault, to whom he presented a paper of verses for his examination. Mr. De Marcillac, and Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, were standing near the arm-chair. In the alcove, Madame de Thianges, and Madame de la Fayette, sat retired, reading a book. Boileau, the Satirist, stood at the door of the gallery, hindering seven or eight bad Poets from entering. Near Boileau, stood Racine, who seemed to beckon to La Fontaine to come forwards. All these figures were formed of wax; and this imitation must have been at once curious for it's ingenuity, and interesting for the personages it imitated.
ANATOMISTS.
THE ancient Anatomists must have felt a zeal for the science which makes the imagination shudder. It was nothing less than dissecting men
alive
; for this purpose, the bodies of criminals were devoted. This was the exercise of Herophilus, an ancient Physician, who Tertullian very justly treats as a Butcher; or, as we might say in the present age, a Cannibal.
MONKS.
' THE Monks of the present day,' says Charpentier, who died in the year 1702, 'lead sober lives, when compared with their predecessors. Some religious Fathers were called
The Hogs of Saint Anthony.
They retired from the world to make eight repasts
per diem!
The order of the Chartreux was of a different complexion. It was, in it's orginal institution, more austere than that of La Trappe. Amongst other regulations of their food, it was written, that with
barley bread,
water,
and
pulse,
they were fully satisfied. And again, they promise to preserve 'perpetual fasting, perpetual silence, and perpetual hair-cloth. Every Saturday night was brought to each Father his portion of food for the week, with which they accommodated themselves in their own cells, widely separated from each other. But this
mortification
was not long held in esteem: their severities were mitigated, more and more, till at length they have improved the order greatly, by admitting many of the luxuries of life. They now eat, instead of the dry barley bread which was brought to them on the Saturday nights, the newest loaves, made of the whitest flour; instead of water, they drink the richest wines, in greater quantities than heretofore they drank water. The pulse was found rather insipid food; so they have joined to it excellent fish: and, in fact, there is no luxury in which these Fathers, who were enjoined by their Founder 'perpetual fasts,' do not indulge their appetites.
Ah, happy Convents! bosom'd deep in vines,
Where slumber Abbots, purple as their wines!
POPE.
Mr. Merry, the Author of the
Della Crusca Poems,
when he can get rid of his load of poetic tinsel, presents sometimes a thought of the true gold. He has written an Elegy on a View of the Chartreux, in which are these excellent lines—
'Tis not by losing Life that Heaven ye gain;
It is not Solitude that leads to GOD.
AETNA AND VESUVIUS.
IT is very probable that Mount Vesuvius near Naples, and Mount Aetna in Sicily, form but different portions of
one
chain of Mountains that passes under the sea and the Isle of Lipari; for, whenever one of these Volcano's has a great eruption, it is observed, that the other, and the Volcano in the Isle of Lipari, throw out more flames than ordinary. This remark is made by Huet.
ROADS.
THE magnificence of the Romans in their public edifices, infinitely surpassed that of the last ages. The sole inspection of
their Roads
is a most convincing proof. These
Roads
set out from the column erected in the middle of Rome, and extended themselves to the remotest borders of this vast Empire, for the convenience and the expedition of those Legions which had subjugated so many nations. These
Roads,
of which some still remain, were high, broad, solid, and in several places branched out into great squares, which the subverting hand of Time seems yet to respect.
Our Roads,
on the contrary, are in a variety of places in so pitiful a condition, that three or four days of rain frequently interrupt the intercourse of commerce, and delay the journeys of the best equipages.
All this is lamentably true; we need blush at the Romans possessing more magnificent
Roads
than ourselves: we, who emulate them in all the ruin of the luxury; besides, they never paid so much
Turnpike-money
as we do.
LIGHT SUMMER SHOWERS FORMING BURNING MIRRORS.
IN the Summer, after some days of fine weather, during the heat of the day, if a storm happens, accompanied with a few light Showers of rain; and if the Sun appears immediately after with all it's usual ardour, it burns the foliage, and the flowers on which the rain had fallen, and destroys the hopes of the orchard. The burning heat, which the ardour of the Sun produces at that time on the leaves and flowers, is equal to the intense heat of
burning Iron.
Naturalists have sought for the cause of this strange effect, but they have said nothing which satisfies a reasonable mind. This is, however, the fact. In the serene days of the Summer, it is visible that there gathers on the foliage and the flowers as, indeed, on every other part, a little dust, sometimes more and sometimes less, scattered by the wind. When the rain falls on this dust, the drops mix together, and take an oval or round form, as we may frequently observe in our houses, on the dusty floor or cieling, when they scatter water before they sweep them. It is thus these globes of water, mingled on the foliage, form so many of those convex glasses which we call Burning, Mirrors, and which produce the same effect. Should the rain be heavy and last long, the Sun would not then produce this burning heat, because the force, and the duration of the rain, will have destroyed the dust which formed these drops of water; and these drops, losing their globular form, in which alone consisted their caustic power, will be dispersed without any extraordinary effect. For this observation, which, to the Naturalist must appear curious and novel, he is indebted to the ingenious Huet, Bishop of Avranches.
BLEEDING AND EVACUATION, TWO REMEDIES FOR LOVE.
HUET has a very singular observation on Love, which he exemplifies by an Anecdote as singular.
Love,
he says, is not merely a passion of the soul, but it is also a disease of the body, like
the Fever.
It is frequently in the blood, and in the mind, which are terribly agitated; and, to be cured, it may be treated as
methodically
as any other disorder. Great perspirations, and copious Bleedings, that carry away with the humour the inflammable spirits, would purge the blood, calm the emotions, and replace every part in it's natural state.
The great Condé, having felt a violent passion for Mademoiselle de Vigean, was constrained to join the army. While his absence lasted, his passion was continually nourished by the tenderest recollections of Love, and by an intercourse of a continued correspondence, till the conclusion of the campaign, when a dangerous sickness brought him to the most imminent danger. To the violence of his illness, violent Remedies were applied; and every thing that was most efficacious in physic was given to the Prince. He regained his
health,
but he had lost his
Love:
the great Evacuations had carried away his passion; and when he thought himself a Lover, he found he had ceased to Love.
On this Anecdote it is to be observed, that the fact is well authenticated; and, however the reader may feel himself inclined to turn Wit on this occasion, it's veracity cannot in the least be injured. But it must be confessed, that
Evacuations
may not always have on a despairing lover the same happy effect. 'When we would explain the mechanism of the human passions,' observes an ingenious writer, 'the observations must be multiplied.' This fact, then, does not tend to shew that the same remedies will cure every lover, but that they did cure the Prince de Condé.
There is, however, another species of evacuation, not less efficacious, for a despairing swain, which will probably amuse the reader.
A German gentleman burned with an amorous flame for a German Princess. She was not insensible to a reciprocal passion; and to have him about her person, without giving scandal, she created him her General. They lived some time much pleased with each other; but the Princess became sickle, and the General grew jealous. He made very sharp remonstrances; and the Princess, who wished to be free, gave him his
congé,
and he was constrained to quit her. But his passion at every hour increased: he found he could not live out of her presence; and he ventured to enter imperceptibly into her cabinet. There he threw himself at her feet, and entreated her forgiveness. The Princess frowned, and condescended to give no other answer than a command to withdraw from her Royal Highness's presence. The despairing lover exclaimed, that he was ready to obey her in every thing but that; that he was resolved, in this, to disobey her; and that he preferred to die by her hand. In saying this, to give force to his eloquence, he presented his naked sword to the German Princess; who, perhaps, being little acquainted with the flowers of rhetoric, most cruelly took him at his word, and run him through the body. Fortunately, the wound did not prove mortal: he was healed of his wound at the end of three months; and likewise of his passion, which had flowed away with the effusion of blood.
INFECTIOUS DISEASES.
THE present article, from the learned Bishop of Avranches, if not a valuable, forms at least an ingenious speculation.
Neither Naturalists or Physicians have informed us, what is the cause which renders contagious so many diseases, while others are not in the least infectious. The gout, the gravel, the epilepsy, the apoplexy, are not caught by frequenting the company of the diseased; but the plague, the dysentery, the itch, the bloody-flux, occasion frequently terrible ravages by their infection. This is very probably the fact. It may be said, in general, that all contagious diseases produce
worms,
which are contained in ulcers, pustules, or pimples, either internal or external, some less and some more, and of different kinds. We shall not here examine the cause of the productions of these
worms
; but their effect is common and unvaried, and sometimes visible. It is also well known that these worms, by undergoing a revolution, which in them is natural, change into the fly state, and become
gnats
; this is done in a short time, and in infinite numbers. As soon as these flies, imperceptible by their diminutive size, can lift themselves by their wings, they take their flight. They are there scattered abroad; and, entering the bodies of men by respiration, they infuse that poison by which they are engendered, and communicate that corruption from whence they have sprung.
It is thus great fires have been found very serviceable in public contagions: kindled in divers places, they have, as many imagine, purified the air. The air is, indeed, purified, but not in the manner generally supposed, by rarifying and changing it's composition, but in burning and consuming these flying
gnats
with which the air is filled; and which, attracted by the light of the flames, mix with them, and are destroyed in the same manner as moths are by a candle. An opposite cause produces also the same effect; I mean, a sharp frost, that kills and destroys these terrible insects, if not entirely, at least, the greater part: for it has been known, that so great have been their numbers, that many have escaped the rigours of the frost, and have continued the infection; as it happened some centuries back, in the dreadful Plague, which desolated Denmark, and the neighbouring countries.
GENEALOGY.
WELCH Genealogies have long been a standing jest: who does not know their partiality to Cadwallader? Yet there are others
which can disturb the muscles of the gravest Philosopher; and, perhaps, make the most ingenious Herald smile at his own ingenuity. Charles the Fifth, and Louis the Thirteenth, have caused their Genealogies to reach to
Adam.
De Crouy, who married the heiress of the De Crouy's in the time of Saint Louis, because he came from
Hungary,
resolved, if he brought nothing, at least to bring
a Genealogy
: and ventured to trace his descent from
Attila,
King of the Huns; who, it must be allowed, is a more regal ancestor than
Adam
himself.
AMBER-GRIS.
AMBER-GRIS is nothing else than
Honey,
which abounds in the extensive mountains of the side of Ajan, melted by the heat of the Sun; and which, falling into the sea, is condensed or petrified by the coldness of the water. The proof is, that very frequently bees are found inclosed in morsels of Amber-gris. This opinion is ingenious: it is given by the Abbé Longuerue; but the opinions of what Amber-gris is composed are so various, that the fact is, we are ignorant of it.
PIOUS FRAUDS.
THE Abbey of Signi, in Champagne, was uncommonly rich and extensive: but at this we must not be astonished. Saint Bernard had promised those who assisted to found it, as much "
Spatium,
" or place in Heaven, as they gave
land
to his Order of Citeaux. The good people of those days had more faith in Saints than their graceless posterity; and, had the Magistrates not restrained their pious zeal, this Abbey would have occupied a whole province.
So also, when Pope Urban had to combat with Clement the Seventh, he was obliged to have recourse to the scheme of Saint Bernard. This is not wonderful: but it is wonderful, that, as soon as he published a Bull, promising a plenary remission of their
Sins,
and a place in
Paradise,
to all who fought in his cause, or contributed money to support it, our own nation flew up in arms; and, as an old Historian observes—'As soon as these Bulls were published in England, the whole people were transported with joy, and thought that the opportunity of obtaining such inestimable graces was not to be neglected.' The representative of Saint Peter can no more issue such roaring
Bulls: tempora mutantur!
CHINESE PHYSICIANS.
THE Physicians of China, by feeling the arms of a sick man in three places; to observe the slowness, the increase, or quickness, of the pulse, can judge of the cause, the nature, the danger, and the duration, of his disorder. Without their patient's speaking, they reveal infallibly what part is affected. They are at once Doctors and Apothecaries, composing the remedies they prescribe. They are paid when they have compleated a cure; but they receive nothing when their remedies do not take effect. Our Physicians, it must be confessed, are by no means so skilful as the Chinese: but, in one thing, they have the advantage over them; which is, in taking their fees before they have performed the cure. And it is thus that Physicians, with little or no learning, ride in their chariots in London; while, in Pekin, they are very learned, and walk on foot.
FEMALE BEAUTY, AND ORNAMENTS.
THE Ladies in Japan gild their teeth; and those of the Indies paint them red. The blackest teeth are esteemed the most beautiful in Guzurat, and in some parts of America. In Greenland, the women colour their faces with blue and yellow. However fresh the complexion of a Muscovite may be, she would think herself very ugly if she was not plaistered over with paint. The Chinese must have their feet as diminutive as those of the shegoats; and, to render them thus, their youth is passed in tortures. In Ancient Persia, and aquiline nose was often thought worthy of the crown; and, if there was any competition between two Princes, the people generally went by this criterion of majesty. In some countries, the mothers break the noses of their children; and, in others, press the head between two boards, that it may become square. The modern Persians have a strong aversion to red hair: the Turks, on the contrary, are warm admirers of these disgusting locks. The Indian Beauty is thickly smeared with bear's fat; and the female Hottentot receives from the hand of her lover, not silks, or wreaths of flowers, but warm guts and reeking tripe, to dress herself with enviable ornaments.
At China, small eyes are liked; and the girls are continually plucking their eye-brows, that they may be small and long. The Turkish women dip a gold brush in the tincture of a black drug, which they pass over their eye-brows. It is too visible by day, but looks shining by night. They tinge their nails with a rose-colour.
An ornament for the nose appears to us perfectly unnecessary. The Peruvians, however, think otherwise; and they hand on it a weighty ring, the thickness of which is proportioned by the rank of their husbands. The custom of boring it, as our Ladies do their ears, is very common in several nations. Through the perforation are hung various materials; such as green crystal, gold, stones, a single and sometimes a great number of gold rings. This is rather troublesome to them in blowing their noses; and the fact is, some have informed us, that the Indian Ladies never perform this very useful operation.
The female head-dress is carried, in some countries, to singular extravagance. The Chinese Fair carries on her head the figure of a certain bird. This bird is composed of copper, or of gold, according to the quality of the person: the wings, spread out, fall over the front of the head-dress, and conceal the temples. The tail, long and open, forms a beautiful tuft of feathers. The beak covers the top of the nose; the neck is fastened to the body of the artificial animal by a spring, that it may the more freely play, and tremble at the slightest motion.
The extravagance of the Myantses is far more ridiculous than the above. They carry on their heads a slight board, rather longer than a foot, and about six inches broad: with this they cover their hair, and seal it with wax. They cannot lie down, nor lean, without keeping the neck very straight; and, the country being very woody, it is not uncommon to find them with their head-dress entangled in the trees. Whenever they comb their hair, they pass an hour by the fire in melting the wax; but this combing is only performed once or twice a year.
To this curious account, extracted from Duhalde, we must join that of the inhabitants of the Land of Natal. They wear caps, or bonnets, from six to ten inches high, composed of the fat of oxen. They then gradually anoint the head with a purer grease; which, mixing with the hair, fastens these
bonnets
for their lives!
THE WOODEN DAUGHTER OF DESCARTES.
WHEN Descartes resided in Holland, with great labour and industry he made a female Automation—which occasioned some wicked wits to publish that he had an illegitimate daughter, named Franchine—to prove demonstratively that beasts have no souls, and that they are but machines nicely composed, and move whenever another body strikes them, and communicates to them a portion of their motions. Having put this singular machine into a case on board a vessel, the Dutch captain, who sometimes heard it move, had the curiosity to open the box. Astonished to see a little human form extremely animated, yet, when touched, appearing to be nothing but wood; little versed in science, but greatly addicted to superstition, he took the ingenious labour of the Philosopher for a little Devil, and terminated the experiment of Descartes by throwing his
Wooden Daughter
into the sea.
A TRAVELLER's SINGULARITIES.
BALTHAZAR GRATIAN, Author of the
Courtier,
has frequently very singular strokes of imagination. In one of his works, he supposes his Hero to travel in search of a
true Friend.
Among the most singular curiosities he meets with in his travels, are to be distinguished the following ones—A poor
Judge,
with his wife, neither of whom had any fingers to their hands; a great
Lord,
without any debts; a
Prince,
who was never offended at the truth being told him to his face; a
Poet,
who became rich by the produce of his works; a
Monarch,
who died without any suspicion of having been poisoned; a humble
Spaniard
; a silent
Frenchman
; a lively
Englishman
; a
German,
who disliked wine; a
learned Man
recompensed; a chaste
Widow
; a
Madman
discontented; a sincere
Female
; and, what was more singular than all these singularities, a true
Friend!
'A HEAVY HEART.'
THIS is a vulgar phrase; and it will be found, like the generality of vulgar phrases which have long been current, not destitute of signification. According to many eminent Physicians, timid men have the Heart very thick and heavy. Rioland relates, that he has sometimes met with the Hearts of persons of this description, which have weighed from two to three pounds. Amongst these, was that of Mary De Medicis, which was nearly of the latter weight: it is probable, that the afflictions, and the griefs, of this unfortunate Princess, did not a little contribute to thicken and render '
her Heart heavy.
'
PASQUIN AND MARFORIO.
ALL the world have heard of these
Statues
; they have served as vehicles for the keenest Satire in a land of the greatest despotism. The
Statue of Pasquin
(from whence the word
Pasquinade
) and that of
Marforio,
are placed in Rome, in two different quarters.
Marforio's
is a
Statue
that lies at it's whole length: it represents, according to some,
Panarium Jovum
; and, according to others, the River
Rhine,
or the
Nar.
That of
Pasquin,
is a marble
Statue,
greatly mutilated, which stands at the corner of the Palace of the Ursinos, and it is supposed to be the figure of a Gladiator. Whatever they may have been, is now of little consequence; it is certain that, to one or other of these
Statues
are affixed, during the concealment of the night, those Satires or Lampoons which the Authors wish should be dispersed about Rome without any danger to themselves. When
Marforio
is attacked,
Pasquin
comes to his succour; and when
Pasquin
is the sufferer, he finds in
Marforio
a constant defender. It is thus, with a thrust, and a parry, the most serious matters are disclosed; and the most illustrious personages are attacked by their enemies, and defended by their friends.
MUSIC.
NATURALISTS pretend, that animals and birds, as well as 'Knotted oaks,' as Congreve informs us, are exquisitely sensible to the charms of Music. This may serve as an instance. An officer, having spoken somewhat too free of the Minister Louvois, was—as once was the custom—immediately consigned to the Bastile. He begged the Governor to permit him the use of his lute, to soften, by the harmonies of his instrument, the rigours of his prison. At the end of a few days, this modern Orpheus, playing on his lute, was greatly astonished to see frisking out of their holes great numbers of mice; and, descending from their woven habitations, crouds of spiders, who formed a circle about him, while he continued breathing his soul-subduing instrument. His surpize was, at first, so great, that he was petrified with astonishment; when, having ceased to play, the assembly, who did not come to see his person, but to hear his instrument, immediately broke up. As he had a great dislike to spiders, it was two days before he ventured again to touch his instrument. At length, having conquered, for the novelty of his company, his dislike of them, he recommenced his concert; when the assembly was by far more numerous than at first; and, in the course of farther time, he found himself surrounded by a hundred
musical amateurs.
Having thus succeeded in attracting this company, he treacherously contrived to get rid of them at his will. For this purpose, he begged the keeper to give him a cat, which he put in a cage, and let loose at the very instant when the little hairy people were most entranced by the Orphean skill be displayed.
LOCUSTS.
THE Locusts, so frequently mentioned in the Scriptures, and in many ancient Authors, are a species of Grashoppers that have nothing in them disgustful. The Parthians, the Ethiopians, and the Arabs, found them delicious food. After causing them to fall from the trees by means of smoke, ascending from fires kindled at their feet, they salted, dried them in the sun, and preserved them for food throughout the year. Saint John the Baptist ate them with wild honey, according to the custom of the poor of those times. They appear sometimes in Asia, and in Africa, in such prodigious numbers, that they darken the air, and consume in an instant the fruits and herbage of a whole country; the heaps of those which die infect the air and occasion a contagion. It is probable, that these Phenomena are the
Harpies
of the ancients, which even came to devour the meats on the table of the King of Bythinia; and if we add, that Calais and Zethus, the Children of Boreas, chased them from this country, and pursued them to the Isles of Strophades, which are in the Ionian Sea, where they caused them to perish, all this fiction may be understood thus—that the Northern winds had blown them into this Sea: and it is true, that nothing so certainly delivers a country which is infected with these insects, as a strong wind that carries them off to the Sea, where they infallibly must perish. On this head, the Reader may consult Goldsmith.
ANTI-MOINE, OR ANTIMONY; COFFEE; AND JESUIT'S BARK.
THE origin of
Antimony
is a remarkable circumstance. Basil Valentin, Superior of a College of Religionists, having observed that this mineral fattened the Pigs, imagined that it would produce the same effect on the Holy Brotherhood. But the case was seriously different: the unfortunate Fathers, who greedily made use of it, died in a very short time. This is the origin of it's name, which I have written according to the pure French word. In spite of this unfortunate beginning, Paracelsus resolved to bring this mineral into practice; he thought he could make it useful, by mixing it with other preparations, but he did not succeed according to his hopes. The Faculty, at Paris, were on this occasion divided into two parties: the one maintained, that
Antimony
was a
poison
; the other affirmed, that it was an excellent
remedy.
The dispute became more general, and the Parliament and the Sorbonne interfered in the matter: but some time afterwards, the world began to judge rightly concerning this excellent mineral; and it's wonderful effects have occasioned the Faculty to place it among their best remedies.
The use of COFFEE is said to have a similar origin; that, however, was never attended with such dreadful effects. A Prior of a monastery in the part of Arabia where this berry grows, having remarked, that the Goats who eat of it became extremely brisk and alert, resolved to try the experiment on his Monks, of whom he so continually complained for their lethargic propensities. The experiment turned out successful; and, it is said, it was owing to this circumstance, that the use of this Arabian berry came to be so universal.
A casual circumstance discovered that excellent febrifuge, the JESUIT'S BARK. An Indian, in a delirious fever, having been left by his companions by the side of a river, as incurable, to quench his burning thirst, he naturally drank copious draughts of the water, which, having long imbibed the virtues of the bark, which abundantly floated on the stream, it quickly dispersed the fever of the Indian. He returned to his friends; and, having explained the nature of his remedy, the indisposed crouded about the margin of the holy stream, as they imagined it to be, till they perfectly exhausted all it's virtues. The Sages of the tribe, however, found at length in what consisted the efficacy of the stream. The Americans discovered it, in the year 1640, to the lady of the Vice-roy of Peru, who recovered by it's use from a dangerous fever. In 1649, the reputation of this remedy was spread about Spain, Italy, and Rome, by the Cardinal de Lugo and other Jesuits. And thus, like the Antimony, it's name is significant of it's origin.
BABYLON, THEBES, AND NINEVEH.
OF the situation of these three greatest Cities in the Universe, of which History presents us with so many wonderful accounts, we are ignorant: there does not remain the slightest vestige. The hundred gates of Thebes; the Hanging Gardens, and innumerable streets of Babylon; Nineveh, (to use the expressions of Scripture) 'that great City, in which were more than six score thousand persons;' are all melted away 'like the baseless fabric of a vision.'
SOLOMON AND SHEBA.
I RECOLLECT a pretty Story, which, in the Talmud of Gemara, some Rabbin has attributed to Solomon.
The power of this Monarch had spread his wisdom to the remotest parts of the known world. A private Scholar in general, passes his life in obscurity; and Posterity—a solitary consolation—spreads his name to the most distant regions. But when a King is a Student, the case is reversed. Queen Sheba, attracted by the splendour of his reputation, or, more probably, urged by the insatiable curiosity of the female, visited this poetical King at his own court, with the sole intention of
asking him questions.
The Rabbin cannot inform me, if her examination of the Monarch was always made in the chamber of audience; there is reason to suspect that they frequently retired, for the solution of many a hard problem, to the philosophic solitude of a private cabinet. But I do not intend by any means to make this work (as my Lord Lyttleton answered to a curious female concerning his History) 'a vehicle for antiquated scandal.'
It is sufficient, that the incident I now relate passed as Solomon sat surrounded by his court. At the foot of the throne stood the inquisitive Sheba; in each hand, she held a wreath of flowers; the one, composed of natural, the other, of artificial flowers. Art, in the labour of the mimic wreath, had exquisitely emulated the lively hues, and the variegated beauties of Nature; so that, at the distance it was held by the Queen for the inspection of the King, it was deemed impossible for him to decide—as her question imported—which wreath was the natural, and which the artificial. The sagacious Solomon seemed posed; yet, to be vanquished, though in a trifle by a trifling woman, irritated his pride. The son of David—he who had written treatises on the vegetable productions 'from the cedar to the hyssop,' to acknowledge himself outwitted by a woman, with shreds of papers and glazed paintings! The honour of the Monarch's reputation for divine sagacity seemed diminished; and the whole Jewish court looked solemn and melancholy. At length, an expedient presented itself to the King; and, it must be confessed, worthy of the Natural Philosopher. Observing a cluster of Bees hovering about a window, he commanded that it should be opened: it was opened; the Bees rushed into Court, and alighted immediately on one of the wreaths, while not a single one fixed on the other. The decision was not then difficult; the learned Rabbins shook their beards in rapture, and the baffled Sheba had one more reason to be astonished at the wisdom of Solomon.
This would make a pretty poetical Tale. It would yield an elegant description, and a pleasing moral; that
the Bee
only
rests
on the natural beauties, and never
fixes
on the
painted flowers,
however inimitable the colours may be laid on. This, applied to the
Ladies,
would give it pungency.
POETS RECITING THEIR WORKS IN PUBLIC.
IT was anciently the custom in Rome, when a Poet had composed a Poem, to rehearse it before a public audience, that he might gather from them their sentiments, and receive their applause or their censure. Juvenal opens his Satires with a bitter preliminary concerning this manner of recitation, which indeed must have been intolerable; when, like the endless Epic of Orestes, it foamed over the very margins and covers.
Strabo tells us, that a Poet, one day, was reading in a public place to an audience, who listened to him with attention. During his recitation, a bell rung; which was usual when the market was going to be held. In the twinkling of the Poet's eye, he beheld himself deserted by all his auditors, except one person; who, being very deaf, had not heard the bell. The Poet, imagining him to be a man who possessed a correct taste, and for this reason remained there to hear the last verse of his Poem, began to compliment him highly. 'I cannot but be sensible,' exclaimed the Poet, 'to your judicious manner of treating me. While the others have flown off at the first ringing of the market-bell, you remain—favourite of Apollo!—to the conclusion of my Poem.'—'What!' interrupted the other hastily, 'have they rung the bell for the market? And have I been losing all this time in listening to verses? Adieu! adieu!' And went to rejoin the rest of the Poet's auditors in the market-place.
HOW THE BELLS OF THE CHURCH STEEPLE ADVISE ABOUT MARRIAGE.
THE story which Rabelais so pleasantly has given, in the seventh chapter of his third book, and the answer of Pantagruel to Panurge concerning his intention of marrying, Menage observes, is copied from a Latin Sermon on Widowhood, by a Monk of Cluny. The original passage has sufficient humour to induce me to transcribe it—
A certain widow, who felt a very strong inclination towards the holy bond of matrimony, thought it most decent to take the advice of the Curate of her parish, who passed for what is called
a very good-natured soul,
because he was disposed to let every one act as they thought proper. 'I am,' said she, 'a poor unhappy woman, who has lost the best husband in the world. My apprentice knows all the ways of his old master. I have often thought I should do well to marry this young man; but I wish to take your advice.' The Curate immediately answered, that she had then better take him. 'Ah! but I have my fears,' rejoined the widow: 'when a servant becomes a master, it is dangerous.' The Curate approved of this sentiment, and advised her not to marry him. 'But what shall I do?' exclaimed the widow: 'I cannot proceed in the business my late husband left, unless I find another.'—'True,' the Curate replied; 'you will then do well to marry him.'—'Very well,' she answered: 'but, if he happens to turn out bad, he may ruin me!'—'Very just,' replied the Curate; 'you must not marry him then.' It was in vain: the good-natured Ecclesiastic, to get rid of her importunities, always agreed with her sentiments. He observed her inclinations for the apprentice; and, at length, he found this expedient to terminate her objections. 'Go, Madam, and take advice of the Bells of the Steeple: when they ring, they will tell you what you should do.' When the bells rung, the widow attentively listened; and, according to her wishes, she heard distinctly, '
Prens ton valet, prens ton valet!
' Upon these strong arguments, in favour of the young man, she married him. Scarce had the honeymoon closed, when she received very cruel treatment from her late apprentice; and she who was mistress, now became a servant. She went to complain to the good-natured Curate of the advice he gave her; cursing the apocryphal Bells of the Church, and her fond credulity. He told her, that she had misunderstood the Bells—'Observe them next time.' The widow again listened; and very clearly distinguished the sounds of '
Ne le prens pas, ne le prens pas!
' For the blows and the cruel treatment which she had received had dissipated her passion; and the truth is, that all the advice of the Bells consisted in her own inclinations. Agreeably to our old English couplet—
As the Fool thinketh,
So the Bell tinketh.
THE THREE RACANS.
THE present anecdote, to it's merit as an humorous deception, may add that of being a fact.
When Mademoiselle De Gournay arrived at Paris, she desired to see the Marquis of Racan, an eminent wit and poet. Two of Racan's friends knew the time they had appointed for his waiting on her; and they resolved to be revenged on Racan for many a ridiculous situation to which he had exposed them. One of these gentlemen, about two hours before the time appointed, waited on Mademoiselle De Gournay, and announced himself as Racan. He endeavoured to talk with the lady about her own works, which he had purposely turned over the night before; and, though he did not perfectly satisfy Mademoiselle De Gournay in point of his abilities, besides committing some gross blunders, she could not, however, but think the Marquis was a very polite gentleman. He had scarce parted from her, when another Marquis De Racan was announced. She naturally supposed that it was the first, who had forgotten to say something to her, and returned for this purpose; when, to her great surprize, another stranger entered. She could not help questioning him repeatedly if he was the real Marquis De Racan; and informed him of what had just passed. The pretended Racan appeared very much hurt; and declared, that he would be revenged of the insult the stranger had mutually offered them. But, to cut the matter short, Mademoiselle De Gournay softened the choleric man; and was infinitely pleased with the second Marquis De Racan, who exceeded the first in every respect. Scarce had this second counterfeit Racan issued, when the
real Racan
was announced! This began to exercise the patience of Mademoiselle De Gournay. 'What, more Racans in one morning!' she exclaimed. However, she resolved to see the third. As soon as he entered, she raised her voice, and asked him if he meant to insult her? Racan, who, at the best, was but an indifferent speaker, remained silent with astonishment. He muttered something; and Mademoiselle de Gournay, who was naturally violent and irascible, imagined that he was sent to impose upon her. She pulled off her slipper, and fell upon the real and unfortunate Racan with the rage of an irritated virago, and made him gladly retreat from a visit where he had expected to meet with a very different reception.
THE EXCELLENT PREACHER.
A YOUNG Preacher, who had a very handsome mien, a melodious voice, a graceful action, and all the other agreeable charms which please in declamation, having mounted the pulpit, suddenly lost his memory, and not a word of the sermon could he recollect. To quit the pulpit would have been dishonourable; to speak was more difficult, for he had nothing to say. What was to be done in this extremity? He resolved to remain collected, and to make the best use of his voice and action, without pronouncing any thing but unconnected words, imperfect sentences, and pathetic exclamations: such as
fors, buts, ifs, yets, ohs! ahs! you'll please to observe, &c.
Never did a Preacher appear with more grace and animation. He expanded his lungs, he made pathetic exclamations, and waved his hand in a thousand graceful manners. The pulpit shook; and the vault of the church, which was vast, re-echoed to all the vociferations he sent forth. The audience preserved a profound silence: every one inclined his ear, and redoubled his attention to catch sentences which were never spoken. Those who sat near the pulpit, said—'We are too near; we cannot hear a sentence!' Those who sat remote, complained of the distance, which caused them to lose the most wonderful sermon they ever heard. In a word, our Preacher kept his auditors in this manner for three quarters of an hour, all of them complaining of their seats. When he withdrew, their acclamations followed him; and they resolved, the next time he preached, to chuse their places with more care, and not to deprive themselves of the fruits of a sermon which they were sensible was never equalled.
This anecdote will shew, that a Preacher may succeed without reason or imagination; and, if we judge by some who enjoy a good reputation, it will tend to prove that a musical voice, balancing the hands, and uttering warm exclamations, are the chief requisites for a declaimer in the pulpit.
THE VENETIAN HORSEMAN.
A HORSE in Venice, or a tree in Scotland, I think Johnson observed, were singularities. A Venetian, who was more accustomed to a Gondola than to a Horse, being for the first time mounted; and, as it not infrequently happens to young riders, having the misfortune to be furnished with one that was restiff, could not possibly make his nag advance a single step. Unable to account for the animal's retrograde activity, he at length took out his handkerchief; and, holding it in the air, he exclaimed, in a tone of exultation—'Ah, poor horse! no wonder thou couldst not get forward,
per che il vento è contrario
; for the wind, I see, is contrary.'
THE PORRIDGE-POT OF THE CORDELIERS.
THERE are few at Paris who know why they speak so much concerning the great Porridge-Pot of the Cordeliers of the great Convent. It is, in fact, a singular piece: it can contain from five to six hundred pounds of meat, and near two tuns of water; so that it is no trifling occupation with those good Fathers to make a soup. This deep Pot, broad and high in proportion to it's depth, does not admit of any thing being put in or drawn out without ascending a ladder. A gluttonous Cordelier always took the opportunity, when the cooks were gone to church, to repair there, and steal some delicious bit from this enormous Pot. He drew it up with an iron fork, and conveyed it to his cell, to regale himself, with two or three others of his comrades who had the secret of conveying wine from the cellar.
This Monk having one day mounted the ladder, to draw, as usual, some delicate morsel from the Pot, which then happened to be not more than two-thirds full, he was obliged to stretch himself to an unusual degree; and the fork, by the ponderous weight of the piece he had greedily stuck it into, slipped from his hands. He did his best to extricate it; but, overturned by his own weight and eagerness, he tumbled into the Pot, and was soon suffocated, without any power of assistance, in the boiling lake of broth. A few hours afterwards, the cooks came to serve the refectory. All the broth was emptied, the basons were filled, and brought to their usual places for the use of the religionists. They then returned, to bring the meat from the Pot; but how great was their surprize, when, on ascending the ladder, the first piece that presented itself was the unfortunate Cordelier, quite entire! With great labour they hauled him out. The Prior, who was privately informed of this singular incident, thought proper to have him conveyed to his bed. They then gave out that he died suddenly: the world for some time believed it; but the cooks could not keep the secret:
GREAT PAINTERS.
I IMAGINE, that when our
Cosways
visit each other, if it happens that their friend is not at home, they are incapable, by the perfection of their art, to leave any peculiar beauties behind them, of which a Connoisseur could say—'Certainly
Cosway
has been here to-day; for who but
Cosway
could express this line, or infuse this grace!'
The ancient
Apelles,
on a visit to a brother Artist, acted in this manner—He went purposely to Rhodes to see
Protogenes.
When he arrived at the Painter's house, he found him absent; but, observing on his easel an unfinished picture, he snatched a brush, and drew a line exquisitely delicate. When the slave asked him to leave his name, he answered—'Your master will know who I am when he sees his picture.' The slave, on his master's return, informed him of what had passed. Protogenes, examining the line, exclaimed—'This must be by the hand of Apelles! he is certainly at Rhodes!' He took up the brush, and drew another line still more delicate than the former; and instructed the slave, when the stranger should return, only to shew him that line. Apelles returned; and, blushing, he beheld himself surpassed! But what did he do? He took the brush, and
divided
the line of Protogenes into two parts by a third, which it was impossible a fourth could divide. Protogenes, when he examined it, exclaimed—'Now do I know, for certain, that Apelles is at Rhodes!' He went to the ship; and, acknowledging himself vanquished, led his beloved friend and rival to his house.
Raphael painted a Man who was in a high fever with so much skill, and so perfect a resemblance, that a Physician, who never passed for a Connoisseur, at the first sight of the portrait, declared that the original must have been in a dangerous fever.
FRENCH AND SPANIARDS.
A LITTLE work, published after that famous intermarriage which overcame the enmity of the two Courts of France and Spain, though it could not that of the two nations, presents us with a humorous contrast of their manners, dispositions, habits, &c.
' A Frenchman,' says our Author, 'entering his friend's house, will immediately ask for some refreshment: a Spaniard would rather perish with hunger or thirst. A Frenchman salutes a lady by kissing her: a Spaniard, on presenting a lady his hand, will cover it with his cloak, and retreat back several paces to bow to her at a hundred steps distant.
' I have often been tempted,' says the Author, who was a Spaniard, 'to ask the midwives if it was possible that a French child could be brought into the world in the same manner as a Spanish infant—so dissimilar they prove from their birth!
' The French have a lively apprehension, hating idleness, and reducing their knowledge into practical use; but they do not penetrate deeply into any matter. The Spaniard, on the contrary, is fond of abstract and abstruse speculation, and dwells continually on an object. The French are afraid of believing too much; the other, of believing too little. The former will dispatch the weightiest business in the midst of noise and tumult, amidst the levity of assemblies, or gaieties of the table; whilst the grave Spaniard cannot bear the buzzing of a fly to disturb his fixed attention. In love, the one are light and talkative; the other, constant and secret. The Spaniard will disguise his poverty under a thousand pretences, and invent as many fictions to persuade you his appearance is owing to the necessity of concealing his person; whilst the Frenchman will press his wants upon you with the most persevering importunity. In every minutia, this difference is traced; both at the toilette and table: in mixing wine, the Spaniard puts the water first in the glass; whilst the Frenchman puts the wine first. A troop of Frenchmen will walk abreast in the street with abundance of tattle; whilst the Spaniards will walk with measured gravity, in a defile, like a procession. A Frenchman, discovering a person at a distance, beckons with an uplifted hand, drawn towards his face: the Spaniard bends his hands downwards, and moves it towards his feet.'
This contrast of humours and manners he seems inclined to attribute to the difference of climate: in the one country, settled and constant; in the other, ever varying, as the genius of it's inhabitants.
ANIMALS IMITATE LANGUAGE AND ACTION.
SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, in his Memoirs, relates a story concerning an old Parrot, belonging to the Prince Maurice, that readily answered to several questions promiscuously put to it. However singular the fact may appear, he assures us it was told him as such by the Prince himself.
Scaliger tells us, that he saw a Crow, in the French King's court, that was taught to fly at Partridges, or any other fowl, from the falconer's hand.
Cardinal Assanio had a Parrot that was taught to repeat the Apostles Creed, verbatim, in Latin; and in the court of Spain there was one that could sing the Gamut perfectly.
In the Roman History an anecdote is recorded, the truth of which we have no reason to doubt. When the sovereignty of the world was depending between Caesar and Antony, a poor man at Rome bred up two Crows; and taught them to pronounce, in their prattling language, a salutation to the Emperor: and, that he might be provided against all events, one of them saluted Caesar, and the other Antony. When Augustus was returning as the conqueror, this man, with the Crow on his hand, met him; and it was an ingenious and agreeable flattery, to which Augustus was not insensible, to be saluted by a Crow with the acclamations of victory. He rewarded the novel adulator munificently. The neighbour of the man, however, having in vain essayed to teach the same language to two Crows he had destined for this purpose, stung with envy at his happier fate, revealed to Augustus that this man had another Crow at his house, which he had intended to have saluted Antony, had Fortune favoured his party. This malicious intelligence intercepted the bounty of Augustus.
Perhaps, nothing appears more wonderful than the sight of an unwieldy Elephant dancing. The manner of teaching this grave animal so ludicrous an action is thus cruelly practised—They bring a
young Elephant
upon an iron floor heated underneath; and play on a musical instrument, while he lifts up his legs, and shifts his feet about, by reason of the torture of the heat. This, frequently repeated, occasions him to dance at the least sound of music.
But let us not suppose, that animals that thus imitate the actions and language of Rational Creatures, possess, therefore, in some degree, rationality and mental intelligence: for when an Elephant, for instance, dances to music, it is not from any principles of reason, but from the concatenation of the two ideas of
heat
and
music,
to which custom has habituated him. So a Parrot may answer any question it is accustomed to hear; but this action needs not the aid of reason, since it may be effected by
an habitual idea
of things. Even the inferior ranks of animals receive their
ideas
by the
senses.
Such and such sounds often repeated, and such and such actions immediately preceding or immediately following those sounds, must necessarily form a
complex idea
both of the sound and action; so that, when either such action or such sound is repeated, an idea of the other must necessarily attend it. Thus Dogs are taught to fetch and carry; and Parrots speak more words than one together. These words,
Poor Poll!
for instance, being often repeated together, if one be mentioned, and the other left, there must necessarily be an idea of the other sound, because custom and habit link them together. As two words are taught, so may three; and, if three, why not many? It is thus, by a
complex idea,
the Elephant dances; for, when he hears music, the idea of the heated floor occasions him to dance.
The arguments here alledged for the power which some animals shew in imitating our speech and actions, are chiefly drawn from an old Athenian Mercury.
ATTIC PLEASANTRIES.
THE Bishop of Belley was a great Wit, and very happy in extemporaneous effusions; but his wit bears too frequently the alloy of puns and clenches. The following are neat—
' Après leur mort, les
Papes
deviennent des
Papillons
; les
Sires
des
Cirons,
et les
Rois
des
Roitelets.
'
For the satisfaction of those who are pleased with clenches, I transcribe the following connected and ingenious ones—
' Le Maire d'une petite ville située sur le bord du Rhône fit ce compliment a un General des Armées du Roi en Piémont.
' Monseigneur, tandis que Louis le Grand fait aller l'Empire de mal
en pire, damner
le Dannemarc,
suer
le Suede; tandis que son digne rejetton fait
baver
les Bavarois, rend les troupes de Zelle, sans
zèle,
et fait des
essais
aux Hessois; tandis que Luxembourg fait
fleurir
la France a Fleurus, met en
flamme
les Flamands,
lie
les Liegois, et fait danser la Castanaga sans
castagnettes
; tandis que le Turc
hongre
les Hongrois, fait
esclaves
les Esclavons, et reduite en
servitude
la Servie; enfin, tandis que Catinat
demonte
les Piémontois, que St. Ruth se
rue
sur les Savoyards; vous, Monseigneur, non content de faire sentir la pesanteur de
vos doigts
aux Vaudois; vous, faites encore la
barbe
aux Barbets, ce que nous oblige d'etre avec un profond respect, &c.'
Stephen Dolet was a Poet, a Printer, and a Grammarian. He had given very liberal strictures on religious matters, for which he was imprisoned; and, not having kept his promise of turning a good Catholic, he was condemned to be burnt, as an Atheist, in Paris, on the third of August 1546. As he proceeded to the place of execution, he observed the people commiserate his fate; on which he made this verse—
Non dolet ipse DOLET, sed pia turba dolet.
The Doctor who accompanied him answered—
Non pia turba dolet, sed dolet ipse DOLET.
Among the many puerile amusements which Fashion has frequently sanctioned, there was one which merits to be distinguished. It was the contrivance of arranging letters and words, apparently without signification, so as to form a perfect sentence in the pronunciation. Among the most tolerable of these was the following one, chosen as the device of one who had thrown off the yoke of an unworthy mistress—
J, A, C, O, B, I, A, L:
which letters, pronounced in the French language, have this compleat signification—
, asses obei à Elle.
Something similar has been lately given by the ingenious Harry Erskine, who inscribed on his
Tea-Chest
the following Latin words—
TU DOCES.
These, however inapplicable they may appear, when translated into our vernacular tongue, run thus—
THOU TEA-CHEST!
The second person singular of the verb
docere
making a very neat pun of the substantive
Tea-Chest.
BARBIER's EPITAPH.
LOUIS BARBIER, a man of obscure birth, rose by the favour of the Duke of Orleans, whose Preceptor he was. He became Bishop of Langres, and died in 1670, leaving one hundred crowns to him who should compose his epitaph. This reward, it must be supposed, occasioned a number of candidates. The following lines, written on the occasion, if they did not prove successful, have at least the merit of sincerity—
Cy gît un très grand personage,
Qui fût d'un illustre lignage;
Qui posseda mille vertus;
Qui ne trompa jamais; qui fut toujours sage—
Je n'en dirai pas d'avantage;
C'est trop mentir pour cent Ecus!
BACKER's PORTRAIT.
THE silly vanity of many Authors in placing their Portaits at the head of their works has not escaped indicule. It was, perhaps, never more severely reproved than by the following Epigram, addressed to Becker, Author of '
The Enchanted World
;' who, though frightfully ugly, has given the world his Portrait in that work—
Oui, par toi de Satan la puissance est bridée:
Mais tu n'as cependant pas encore assés fait;
Pour nous oter de DIABLE entierement l'idée,
BECKER, supprime ton PORTRAIT!
NOAH AND SATURN.
THERE can be no doubt that
Noah
was the Pagan
Saturn.
Noah was a just man in his days: he endeavoured to enlighten the wicked race amongst whom he lived by his counsels, and to instruct them by his example. Thus, according to Aurelius Victor, and Diodorus, Saturn softened the wicked inclinations of men, and endeavoured to bring them back to their ancient purity of manners, by a civilized and regulated life.
Between the Deluge and the birth of Phaleg there was an interval of one hundred years; when, the world not being yet shared out, Noah had a natural right to be the Sovereign of his children. This is the Golden Age the Poets so much celebrate, where every thing was in common.
Moses calls Noah,
Isch—hadama—
that is, the Man of the Earth—for Labourer.
The Mythologists, who accommodated their Fables to History, observing that the Hebrew word bore two significations, either
Man
or
Husband,
say, that
Rhea,
or the Earth, was the wife of Saturn; and, as the Man of the Earth also relates to Agriculture, they attribute to Saturn the art of cultivating fields, vines, and meadows, representing him with a scythe in his hands.
From the passage in Genesis, where it is said Noah was intoxicated with the liquor of the vines he had planted, they have said also that Saturn presided over Ebriety. Hence they called that day in the year in which the masters attended their slaves,
The Saturnalian Feast.
Plato says, in his Timaeus, that Saturn, Rhea, and their family, were born of the Ocean and Thetis; which corresponds with Noah and his family coming from the waters of the Deluge.
Saturn had, for successors, his three children, Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto; and Noah shared out the earth to his three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. This last, who is Neptune, had for his portion all the isles and peninsulas of the sea.
Moses says, that God consecrated to himself a church in the family of Shem and, as he must have been the greatest enemy of the Idolaters, it is very probable that, hating him, they made him Pluto, who is the god of Hell and the Dead.
Cham, or Ham, had for his portion Africa, Arabia, and Egypt; which, after his name, was anciently called Chemie, where he was adored, during many ages, under the name of Jupiter Ham, Hammon, &c. And why the Pagans said of Jupiter, that he
cut
those parts of his father Saturn which it is not allowed to name, comes from this passage of the ninth chapter of Genesis being misunderstood—
Quod cum videret Cham pater Canaan, verenda patris sui esse nudata, nunnavit.
This last word is, in the Hebrew,
vajagged
; and, perhaps, the vowel points not being marked, occasioned them to read
vejagod,
which signifies
cut.
The whole of this article, which displays much ingenious erudition, is drawn from the
Chevraeana,
Vol. I. p. 91.
METEMPSICHOSIS.
IF we seek for the origin of the opinion of the Metempsichosis, or the Transmigration of Souls into other bodies, we must plunge into the remotest antiquity; and even then we shall find it impossible to fix the epoch of it's first author. We know that the notion was long extant in Greece before the time of Pythagoras. Herodotus assures us, that the Egyptian Priests taught it; but he does not inform us about the time it began to be spread. It is very probable it followed the opinion of the Immortality of the Soul. As soon as the first Philosophers had established this dogma, they thought they could not maintain this immortality without a transmigration of souls. The opinion of the Metempsichosis spread in almost every region of the earth; and it continues, even to the present time, in all it's force amongst those nations who have not yet embraced Christianity. The people of Arracan, Pegu, Siam, Camboya, Tonquin, Cochin-china, Japan, Java, and Ceylon, are still in that error, which also forms the chief article of the Chinese religion.
THE MOTHER TONGUES.
SCALIGER observes, there are four Mother, or radical Tongues, in Europe.
Theos,
the Greek;
Deus,
the Latin, the French, the Italian, and the Spanish.
Got,
the Danish, the English, the German, the Dutch, and the Flemish.
Goii,
the Sclavonian. There are six lesser or inferior Languages, independent of the above four. The Bask, the low Breton, the Hungarian, the Irish, the Swedish, and the Tartarian. The Welch Language must also be distinguished; though it bears so great an affinity to the low Breton, that it is said, these nations understand each other with little difficulty. The Irish and the Danes once spoke the same Language. The Bask is the ancient Spanish, as the Cantabrians spoke it in the time of the Romans.
THE LATIN TONGUE.
THE fate of the Latin Tongue may be divided into six Ages. The Barbarous and Uncultivated Age; the Middle Age; the Golden, the Silver, the Brass, and the Iron Ages.
The Barbarous Age lasted from four to five hundred years; from Romulus, in whose reign more Greek than Latin was spoken, till Livius Andronicus, the first who caused Plays to be acted at Rome.
The Middle Age extends itself from Andronicus till the days of Cicero. During this interval of time, many Authors began to write the Latin Language. The most distinguished are, Ennius, Naevius, Plautus, Terence, and Lucretius. The Poem of the last writer does so much honour to this Age, that we must candidly acknowledge, it would not be unworthy, even of the Golden Age of pure Latinity, were it somewhat less obscure.
The Golden Age of the Latin Language began in the reign of Circero, and finished with the reign of Augustus; so that, without a metaphor, it is but an Age. Then flourished Varro, Cicero, Julius Caesar, Cornelius Nepos, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Severus Albinovanus, Sallust, and others; a part of whose works have happily escaped the ravages of Time.
The Silver Age, which commences at the death of Augustus, and terminates with Antonine the Pious, was very fruitful in excellent compositions; but it's Language began to lose somewhat of it's richness and it's purity, in spite of the indefatigable Quintilian, who vainly attempted to revive the Golden Age. Seneca, whose style is one continued affectation, who is for ever on the stretch to catch points, antithesis, and other trivial sports of the mind, enervates manly sentiment, and shocks a correct taste. It was him who corrupted the Latin Language.
The Age of Brass commences from the reign of Antonine, and reaches till Honorius, under whose reign the invasions of the Barbarians took place. Besides profane Authors, who abound in this Age, it produced Tertullian, Arnobius, Lactantius, Cyprian, Saint Hilary, Prudentius, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustin, Damases, and Sulpicius Severus.
The irruptions of the Barbarians occasioned an Age of Iron to the Latin Language. Who has not heard declamations against the Goths and Vandals? This dreadful epoch lasted from six to seven Ages. During this time, some Authors, however, arose, who have done honour to the Latin Tongue; but it must be recollected, that the ignorance of these times was so deplorable, that our great Alfred complains, that in England it was difficult to find a Priest who could read; and the Historian of Universal History must record, that the knowledge of the Ecclesiastics consisted only in some very barbarous Latin.
Aldensis Manutius composed the first Latin Grammar. It was printed at Paris in 1500. The
Method of the Port Royal
is the first which freed itself from the bondage of prescribing rules in Latin, to learn the Latin Language.
The Latin Language is ranked amongst those they call
dead,
because they are no more the Languages the vulgar of any nation speak; and, being regulated by the ancient Authors, custom can no more tyrannize over them. But it may be said, in a figurative sense, that they are living ones, by the constant use the Learned make of them; and it may not be improper to call them
the Languages of the Land of Science.
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
I HAVE extracted from two Authors of a distant interval of time—since one is honest Peter Heylin, who wrote in the days of our first Charles; and the other, Mr. Sheridan, whose Lectures are well known—the present article concerning that Language, which it becomes us not so much to enlarge as to preserve.
Peter Heylin thus observes in his Cosmography—'The English Language is a decompound of Dutch, French, and Latin, which I conceive rather to add to it's perfection, than to detract any thing from the worth thereof, since out of every Language we have culled the most significant words, and equally participate in that which is excellent in them: their imperfections being rejected; for it is neither so boisterous as
the Dutch,
nor so effeminate as
the French,
yet as significant as
the Latin
; and, in the happy conjunction of two words into one, little inferior of
the Greek.
'
Mr. Sheridan thus ingeniously has written on the same topic—'Upon a fair comparison, it will appear that
the French
have emasculated their Tongue, by rejecting such numbers of their consonants; and made it resemble one of their painted
Courtezans,
adorned with fripperies and fallals. That
the German,
by abounding too much in harsh Consonants and Gutturals, has great size and strength, like the statue of
Hercules Farnese,
but no grace. That
the Roman,
like the bust of
Antinous,
is beautiful indeed, but not manly. That
the Italian
has beauty, grace, and symmetry, like the
Venus
of Medicis, but is feminine; and that
the English
alone resembles the ancient
Greek,
in uniting the three powers, of strength, beauty, and grace, like
the Apollo of Belvedere.
'
I contemplate with great pleasure the classical statue which is here offered to the imagination. When I recollect the sweetness of
Addison,
the strength of
Johnson,
and the grace of
Melmoth,
I rise into enthusiasm, and exult in the conviction that
the English
is the most perfect of the European Languages. The embarrassed periods of Hooker, Raleigh, and Clarendon, will no more languish on the ear. We have polished the solid marble of our ancestors. With strength, to which we have no pretensions, they have extracted it from the quarry; but we are the artificers who, with the dexterous use of the file, can smooth their asperities, can arrange into elegance, and can heighten into lustre. No more shall some future
Waller
sing, that he who employs the English Language, writes his verses on
sand
; and that, to endure to posterity, he must carve in the
marble
of Latin and Greek.
The Golden Age of the English Language, however, seems approaching to it's first state. Nothing contributes so much to corrupt it's purity as an inundation of Frech translations, rather than translations from the French. The avarice of some, and the hunger of others, are continually pouring on us whole volumes, disfigured with Gallicisms; and, not infrequently, whole sentences in French are aukwardly introduced as improvements, doubtless, to supply the deficiences of English Language, or rather those of the Translator.
Yet, it must be confessed, there are some few
French words
which, with great felicity, express a sense of which we have no exact or parallel expressions. We may, indeed, make use of phrases which may serve tolerably well to explain our meaning; but the delicacy of expression seems to be lost.
The ingenious Vigneul Marville has ventured to censure our Language. Perhaps, he was no competent judge of it's demerits; at least, his criticism is too often more sprightly than sound. But we must confess, that it is now a century since he flourished; and, if we reflect on the state of our Language in his day, it will not be found totally unjust.
' The style of the English writers is long and embarrassed, very difficult to translate into Latin, into French, or into Italian. We must recollect this when we read the works of the English Authors in their own language with an intention to translate them. Perhaps, the English would bear better to be translated into Spanish than into French, as the French is more happily rendered into Greek than into Latin. The Italian will find no language which, without injuring it's delicacies and it's diminutives, can afford a version. The German Language is well enough adapted to the Latin.'
The reader may be pleased, probably, to hear an ingenious Frenchman writing on our language, thus express himself—
' He who loves the sciences, should not neglect the English Language. If he would become acquainted with those excellent productions which breathe the warmest spirit of liberty, let him give his studies to this Language. Sir Richard Steele, so celebrated for his other compositions, has given us a good Grammar, accompanied with excellent Notes. The Grammar of Dr. Wallis is only proper for those who are conversant with the Latin.'
Perhaps, the above-mentioned Grammar is quite forgotten. I have in my possession 'A Grammar of the English Tongue, with Notes, giving the Grounds and Reason of Grammer in general,' printed for John Brightland, 1711.' To which is prefixed, 'The Approbation of Isaac Bickerstaff,
Esq
' who, I suppose, is Sir Richard Steele, dressed out in masquerade. He says, 'that this Grammer of the English Tongue has done that justice to our Language which, till now, it never obtained. The
Text
will improve the most ignorant, and the
Notes
employ the most learned. I therefore enjoin all my female correspondents to buy, read, and study, this Grammar, that their letters may be something less enigmatic, &c.' It is dedicated to Queen Anne. The Notes are copious, and by no means trifling; they are not unworthy of accompanying Lowth's Grammar.
THE DUTCH AND GERMAN LANGUAGES.
THE knowledge of these two Languages is more useful to travellers and merchants than to men of letters. These two Languages are disagreeable in their words and their pronunciation; nor is their manner of expression clear. Neither the Dutch or the Germans make use of that easy phraseology which simply follows the connexion of our ideas, which joins naturally word with word, according to their different signification: they imitate rather the figurative turn of the Latin, in those inversions of phrase which hold the mind in suspence till the close of the sentence. They bear so strong an affinity to each other, that it is easy for one, who is conversant with either, to know the other. The Dutch is hardly any thing else than the old German. The sound of the German Language is more full and more agreeable than the Dutch.
THE ETYMONS OF MUMMIES, AND VOLUME.
SCALIGER remarks, that they have called
Mummies
the bodies of the Egyptians, because they embalmed them with a perfume which they called
Amomum.
We call a Book, frequently, a
Volume.
The derivation of this word is from the Latin,
volvere
—to roll; because the letters and the works of the Ancients were written on very long leaves, when the matter required it; and when they closed them, they were made up into
rolls
or
Volumes.
CHARACTER OF THE FRENCH, THE SPANISH, AND THE ITALIAN LANGUAGES.
THERE is this difference between these three Languages. The
Italian
owes much of it's merit and it's softness to it's peculiar turn of phrase, and the manner in which it employs it's diminutives: thus it expresses, with great felicity, the sentiments of Love. The
Spanish
draws all it nobleness, and it's pomp, from gigantic expressions and hyperboles, of which no other Language will admit. The
French
appears to hold a middle rank between these two Languages: it can express with strength and vivacity the Language of Reason, by representing things as they are; it is thus well calculated for the compositions of History, Controversy, Theology, and Philosophy. It seems, however, to be very unfortunate in it's Poetical productions: the French are hardly aware of it themselves; but there is no correct ear that has been accustomed to English versification, that can bear with any degree of patience it's tiresome monotony. A French Poet, who was as great an admirer of Latin verses as of wine, compares French versification to the drinking of water. It's satiric verse, however, has the preference.
The
Italian,
of all the European Languages, after the French, is the most general in use. The facility with which it is acquired, is one great cause of it's universality. Yet it must be remarked, that if it is attained in some tolerable degree with so much ease, it is, indeed, diffcult to grow conversant with all it's delicacies, or to write or speak it to perfection. Those who wish to be informed of the best Authors who have written in this language, should consult the '
Reggionamento d'ella Eloquenza Italiana,
' of the Abbé Fontanini, corrected and illustrated by the Notes of Apostolo Zeno, printed in two volumes, quarto, at Venice, 1753. A work, that bears for it's title—'The Italian Library, containing an Account of the Lives and Works of the most valuable Authors of Italy, by Giuseppe Baretti,' printed for Millar, 1757—is very useful for one who wishes to recognize the numerous Atuhors who have written in this polite Language, at least by their names. The criticisms are amusive and bold, in the manner of Baretti; whose pages, it must be confessed, whatever might be his errors as a man, or as an author, seldom were found to weary the reader.
LANGUAGE.
' There is not,' observes a spirited French writer, 'any Language which may be deemed compleat; any that can express all our ideas, and all our sensations; their shades are imperceptible, and too numerous. No one can precisely reveal the
degree
of sensation which he feels. We are constrained, for instance, to describe, under the general name of
Love
and
Hate,
all their variety of passion. It is thus, also, of our
Griefs
and
Pleasures
; so that all Languages but imperfectly express the sensations of man.'
THE LIVING LANGUAGE.
THERE is no Living Language in Europe which is older than five hundred years. If we hope for immortality, we must write in
Latin.
Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, and an infinite number of excellent writers, have fallen martyrs to their patriotism by writing in their mother tongue. Spenser is not always intelligible without a glossary; and when Shakespeare's
Rape of Lucrece
was republished, a few years after his death, his Editor thought proper to explain certain expressions which had then become obsolete.
' The Living Languages,' says Menage, 'are more difficult to acquire than the Dead.' It is now fifty years I have laboured on my own; and I must confess I am far from having attained perfection. To know and to write excellently our mother tongue, one must be acquainted with the ancient languages, even more than with the modern. The greater part of languages are closely connected by one chain. The Dissertation of Pere Besnier, a Jesuit, on this subject, is very curious. He formed a project for the re-union of Languages, or the art of learning them
all
by a single
one.
This plan may be seen in a little Book, printed at Liege, by Nicholas le Baragoin, 1674.
' He should have continued a project so pleasing and so useful. His abilities were adequate to the task; but, unfortunately, he had not the leisure to apply himself.'
If this plan is valuable, which it appears to be by the account of two critical French writers, who must be allowed able judges of this subject; let some Student, who burns with the ambition of rendering an important service, not alone to his country, but to mankind, eternize his name, by devoting his life to an undertaking which will place his memory—
Above all Roman, and all Grecian fame.
AN ACCOUNT OF A CURIOUS PHILOLOGICAL BOOK.
THE Volume I now notice, I have never been fortunate enough to meet with. It must be not only a singular curiosity, but an invaluable work, however imperfectly it may be compiled. I draw this account of it from the
Matanasiana.
It may serve for a curious Catalogue of Languages.
' There is in French a thick Quarto volume, containing 1030 pages, printed in 1613, which has for it's title—
' A Treasury of the History of the Languages of this Universe; containing the origin, beauties, perfections, declensions, mutations, changes, conversions, and ruins of Languages.
Hebrew,
Cannanean,
Samaritan,
Chaldaic,
Syriac,
Egyptian,
Punic,
Arabic,
Saracen,
Turkish,
Persian,
Tartarian,
African,
Morescan,
Ethiopian,
Nubian,
Abyssinian,
Greek,
Armenian,
Servian,
Sclavonian,
Georgian,
Jacobite,
Copthic,
Etrurian,
Latin,
Italian,
Catalan,
Spanish,
German,
Bohemian,
Hungarian,
Polonese,
Prussian,
Pomeranian,
Lithualian,
Walachian,
Livonian,
Russian,
Moscovian,
Gothic,
Norman,
Lingua Franca,
Finconian,
Lapponian,
Bothnian,
Biarmian,
English,
East Indian,
Chinese,
Japanese,
Javanese,
West Indian,
New Guinea,
Terra Nuova,
and the Languages of the Beasts and Birds.
The Author of this wonderful work was Mr. Claude Duret, President à Moulins.
This work is not much enlightened by Criticism, yet the perusal is very amusing. We are surprized at the prodigious number of Authors Duret quotes in every page. There are also added Alphabets of every kind of characters, and a variety of remarks, historical as well as literary.'
ARABIC.
' IT is astonishing,' exclaims Longuerue, 'through what an extent of countries the Arabic Language is spoken, from Bagdad to the Cape of Good Hope.
I find, in the Matanasiana, page 171, the following criticism on this Language. Besides Postel, and other Maronites of Mount Libanus, who have worked upon the Arabic Grammar, Thomas Erpenius has composed it's Rudiments, which appeared in 1620; and some time afterwards, a Grammar, by Jean Maire, printed at Leyden in 1636, to which are appended the Fables of Lockman. The Arabic Language is intelligent and energetic. It is full of graceful turns, and figurative expressions, which give it great elevation and strength. It is harmonious; and it's good Authors increase it's natural harmony by the care they take in their prosaic compositions, to vary their periods, and to introduce a cadence which has all the melody of verse. The book the best written in this Language, is the Alcoran.
Cardinal Perron says, that the Arabic Language is not only very sonorous; but, perhaps, the richest and the most fertile we know. It is also very useful for the explanations of many passages of Scripture.
THE HEBREW.
ALMOST all those writers who have treated on the Hebrew Language, would fain persuade us, that it is the first that men have spoken: but—what is more impertinent in them—they have the assurance to inform us that it is the Language of God himself; nor is this opinion by any means novel, since Saint Gregory of Nyssa has, even in his life-time, reprobated the idea, and calls it a folly, and a ridiculous vanity of the Jews; as if God himself, he says, had been a master of Grammar. La Motte le Vayer writes in his Letters, that the most partial partizans which ever the Hebrew has had, must confess, that excepting the inferior Languages, such as the Bask and the Breton, &c. there is not among the living or the dead Languages, any which do not present us with more valuable compositions than the Hebrew does, if we except the Old Testament. He adds, that he can well do without making use of a barbarous jargon that never repays us for the laceration which it occasions to our throats in pronouncing it's guttural letters.
The Hebrew Grammars which the Christians have composed, are infinitely more perfect than those of the Jews. Their knowledge in the writings of their Rabbins is not inferior; and to this they have added a clear and regular method, which is very necessary in a Language whose idioms and modes of expression the great distance of time has so obscured, that it is almost impossible to attain to any perfect knowledge, or to decide with any degree of certainty concerning it.
Buxtorf, the father, has surpassed all those who have devoted their studies to this Language; and later writers have done little more than copying or abridging his book. It is intituled—'
J. Buxtorfii Thesaurus Grammaticus linguae Sanctae Hebreae duobus libris methodice propositus, &c.
'
We may add, that the Hebrew has no other difference between the Syriac and the Chaldee, if we except the characters, than that which exists between the Latin and the Italian.
OF THE SAMARITAN, CHALDAIC, SYRIAC, ETHIOPIAN, PERSIAN, ARMENIAN, TARTARIAN, AND CHINESE, LANGUAGES.
THE greater part of these Languages, and the Arabic itself, are dialects of the Hebrew; and some so closely resemble it, that the difference is hardly perceivable. Such are, for instance, the Samaritan, the Chaldee, and the Syriac. Hottinger shews, in his Chaldaic Grammar, the affinity the Hebrew bears to the Chaldee, the Syriac, and the Arabic. The Jews brought the Chaldee from Babylon. The books of Daniel and Esdras are for the greater part written in this Language. It was the Syriac, Jesus Christ and the Apostles spoke; and a knowledge of this Language is very necessary for a perfect understanding of the New Testament.
Ludolphus has given us a Grammar of the Ethiopian Language. This Language has a great mixture of Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic words. It has a distinct and peculiar character; and in writing it, the vowel points are not marked according to the custom of the Hebrews, the Arabs, the Chaldeans, and the Syrians; but every letter is a syllable, being at once composed of a vowel and a consonant.
One Louis de Dieu has given a Persian Grammar; but Mr. Richardson has lately published a Dictionary, which is said to be a very valuable labour. Our nation has of late made such a progress in this study, that we may expect, when it shall become more universal, to receive not only Grammars and Dictionaries, but to partake in it's original compositions. Sir William Jones, whose learning is great, and whose genius is equal to his learning, has already laid the literary world under great obligations for some curious prose and some enchanting verse. Scaliger observes, that the Persian Language is very beautiful, and is expressed in few words. It bears no analogy with the Hebrew; but, what is surprizing, it does with the German: having many words in common, as Father, Brother, Sister, and other similar ones. How are we to account for this?
A Tartarian Grammar has been given by Thevenot; and, by Abbé Bignon, a Chinese. Have we Grammars of these Languages?
Of all the languages of Asia, there are none which merit our attention more than the Chinese and the Persian; for the arts and sciences have long and successfully been cultivated by these people.
ON THE USE OF THE PAGAN MYTHOLOGY IN POETRY.
A REVOLUTION has taken place in modern Poetry, which is of the greatest importance to the lovers of the art. This is no less than a total banishment of the Heathen Mythology from our Poetry. The great
Johnson
preferring, not infrequently, a singularity of opinion to an enforcing of truth—or, let us confess, who has given strong marks of a deficiency in poetical taste—has confounded the beauties of the Pagan Mythology with it's abuse. We are to read the criticisms of this great man with caution; we must recollect that, in his examination of
Milton,
his prejudices warp his judgment; and, in his animadversions on
Gray,
his criticisms were uncandid and unpoetical. He tells us, in his Life of
Prior,
'That his fictions are Mythological, and that they are surely despicable:' for he adds—'By the help of such easy fictions, and vulgar topics, without acquaintance with life, and without knowledge of art or nature, a poem of any length, cold and lifeless like this, may be easily written on any subject.'
This is dictated by the uncharitable spirit of criticism. It is strange, that a man of such active faculties, and of such critical sagacity, should not have perceived, that when the Poet wanders in the unbounded regions of Fancy, he hath little to do with the mere state of Nature; that, expatiating in the wide range of Imagination, he does not so much
borrow
from Nature, but rather
adorns
her by the creation of new beings. Hence the pipe of the shepherd is the
shrill shell of Pan
; the murmuring of the waters is
the sigh of the Naiad
; and the dewy flowers, that sparkle on the eye, are the
glittering tears of Aurora.
I will allow that a Pedant, well-read in his Pantheon, may produce, what some may be apt to take for a Poem, by a mere mechanical effort. He may call Apollo and the Muses, Minerva and Venus; but let him beware of what he is about. These celestial beings are no less dangerous than what, in our British Solomon's time, was thought to be the raising of the devil; of whom one said, that he doubted not, with book in hand, he could raise him easily enough; but, when he had done that, the danger lay in the manner he was to employ his devilship. The Pedant may, indeed, lug into his verse the reluctant Gods and Godesses; but they will not have the air of divinities. It requires the most skilful hand, and some of the finest touches of genius, to place them in a novel situation; to polish the finished piece into classical beauty, and exhaust on them the pomp and brilliancy of his imagination.
Let us not, then, hastily resign our faith, in the theology of ancient Poetry. If it appears trite and insipid in the hands of a mere versifier, let us reflect, that every thing in such a writer will have the same effect. It is certain, that no order of beings have yet been found so agreeable to the imagination, when this poetic machinery is displayed by the address of superior genius. How admirably has
Gray,
in his Progress of Poetry, embellished with these beautiful forms the third stanza of the first Antistrophy. Allegorical Personages, which
Spenser
has unfortunately employed, soon weary. The enchantment of mythological fiction is continued, and is susceptible of continual variety.
The omnipotence of the divinities of Poetry is eternal: it is true, they do not always yield their inspiration. Venus still resides in Paphos; Diana still embellishes the woods; the Nymphs inhabit their accustomed oak; and there is not a pure stream but, in it's crystaline cave, is still honoured with the presence of it's Naiad.
I venerate the abilities of this our late
Coryphaeus
; but, if we are blindly to follow the
dictum
of our leader, farewel to that free discussion by which, through the medium of contrary opinions, we at length attain to truth. The critical powers of
Boileau
may well be opposed to those of
Johnson
; and however the English dress, which Sir
William Soame
has given him, may be inferior to the original
Boileau,
he may yet be understood.
IN the narration of some great design,
Invention, art, and fable, all must join:
Here
fiction
must employ it's utmost grace;
All must assume a body, mind, and face.
Each
virtue a divinity
is seen;
Prudence is Pallas
—
Beauty, Paphos' Queen:
'Tis not a cloud from whence swift lightnings fly,
But
Jupiter
that thunders from the sky.
Echo's
no more an empty, airy sound,
But a
fair nymph,
that weeps her lover drown'd.
Thus, in the endless treasures of his mind,
The Poet does a thousand figures find:
Around the work his ornaments he pours,
* * * * * * *
Without these ornaments before our eyes,
Th' unsinewed poem languishes and dies:
Your Poet in his art will always fail,
And tell you but a dull, insipid tale.
In vain have our mistaken Authors try'd
To lay these ancient ornaments aside.
* * * *
And, in a common subject, to reject
The
Gods,
and Heathen ornaments neglect;
To banish
Tritons,
who the sea invade,
To take
Pan's
whistle, &c.
And ev'ry where, as 'twere idolatry,
Banish descriptions from our Poetry.
Leave them their pious follies to pursue;
But let our reason such vain fears subdue.
If the little I have ventured to give of my own, supported by the critical authority of
Boileau,
should fail to relieve the modern Poet from the harsh and severe tyranny of our present Critics; if we must quit
Greece,
the land of invention, to live in our colder climate, I will submit to it with all possible resignation: but let me at least testify my veneration to the
Divinities of Poetry,
in taking as poetical a farewel of them as the time will permit.
O YE! who felt the FANCIED POWER,
Illuminate the mental hour!
We feebler Scribes of later days,
Have lost the beam that warm'd your lays.
How wide for ye th' enchantment stream'd!
The UNIVERSE, one TEMPLE seem'd.
What vivifying POWERS have stood,
In the still horrors of the wood.
AURORA'S TEARS impearl'd the flowers;
And ZEPHYR shook the fragrant bowers.
A NAIAD'S SIGH, the murmuring rill,
Some SYLVAN POWER protects each hill.
If in the stream a Nymph would lave,
She felt the GOD'S embracing wave.
On every plain, in every grove,
Sported the rosy train of LOVE:
And tripping FAUNS, and SATYRS rude,
Were seen to wander every wood.
'Mid bleeding vines young BACCHUS lay,
Tir'd with the labours of the day.
Rich sheaves of corn kind CERES bears;
And orchards feel POMONA'S cares.
If breathes, his reed some shepherd swain,
Enamour'd ECHO steals the strain!
Or shakes the field with horns and hounds;
'Tis DIAN'S self the shrill notes sounds.
Old Ocean's realms are NEPTUNE'S boast;
Who swells the storm that threats the coast;
Or, if his lovely QUEEN to please,
He chains his waves, and smooths his seas,
Seated in their pearly car,
The TRITONS' song is heard afar!
And green-hair'd Nymphs their raptures tell,
Dancing to the vocal shell.
The winged HOURS, to shady seat,
From the hot fainting earth retreat:
But where OLYMPUS' GATES disclose,
JOVE sat, and shook his awful brows!
His EAGLE, basking in his sight,
Wav'd oft his plumes of beamy light;
And VENUS bends her soften'd face,
Or leans on some enchanting GRACE;
While on her looks each GOD has hung,
White-handed HEBE scarce seem'd young.
Of past delight, this Classic theme
Once form'd in youth my early dream.
Farewel, ye Forms of Grecian art!
That must no more inflame my heart.
Our harsher souls, and colder clime,
Claim sentiment, in polish'd rhyme.
FANCY to REASON must submit;
And glowing IMAGERY to WIT.
Yet, Bards! be taught from ancient source,
Your rapid fligh to urge with force;
Or still, with baffled wing ye rise,
Hurl'd from the Poet's starry skies!'
ON THE POETRY OF BARON HALLER.
IT was once the intention of the Editor to have presented a translation of the Poetry of Baron Haller to the public.
The Poet, whom I am now going to introduce to the reader, is better known in this country for his extensive learning and recondite labours in physiology, than for those exquisite pieces which place him so conspicuously amongst the modern Poets of Germany.
If England hath not bestowed on him the honours of a Poet, France, however, hath not been backward in this respect. His Poetry hath been elegantly translated, and multiplied by repeated editions. There are those who have placed him on an equality with the celebrated Gesner: and, perhaps, he is only not equal to him in not having produced a Poem of the magnitude of his Death of Abel.
If it is allowed me to give the character of Haller as a Poet, I will say, that he does not swell into that turgid eloquence, which wearies the mental eye by a cumbrous accumulation of splendour. It is the characteristic of the German Poets, that they do not know when to stop; the strength of their genius transports them into obscurity: by soaring too high, they strain the temperate eye of the Critics; judgment to them is a silken string, too feeble to chain the wing of an eagle.
I do not mean, however, to countenance or excuse certain pieces which, they inform us, are translations from the German; and which, indeed, may well disgust the world with all German Poetry. But, I believe that the bombast of these writers is rather to be attributed to themselves, than to the unfortunate German; who, certainly, had he originally written in so aukward a style, would not have been thought worthy of a translation.
Haller is beautiful in his descriptions, sublime in his Odes, and tender in his elegies. He is not less to be admired as a Satirist; and Berne once trembled at the presence of it's Juvenal. His numbers are highly polished; and it is hard to render justice to the delicate language of his Muse.
The following Poem is not partially chosen, but for it's convenient length. There is an elegant simplicity, added to a closeness of thought; which, if it does not always wear the fantastic air of novelty, impresses in the feeling heart that philosophical consolation worthy of the genius of Haller.
A DESIRE TO REGAIN HIS NATIVE COUNTRY.
WRITTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS IN HOLLAND.
Ah! woods for ever dear! delightful groves, whose verdure shades the heights of
Hasel
The neighbourhood of Berne.
when shall I return to repose on your bosom, where Philomel wantons on the light branches? When shall I lay myself on the declivity of those little hills which Nature hath spread with green carpets of moss, where nought is heard save the trembling leaves, agitated by the vernal airs, or the murmurs of a little brook that refreshes those solitary meads.
' O Heaven! when wilt thou permit me to visit, once more, those vales where I passed the spring of my life; where, often to the murmurs of a falling cascade, my verse flowed in honour of my Sylvia: while the caresses of Zephyr, animating the grove, threw on my pensive soul a soft melancholy. There, every care was banished, while I sat in the umbrageous depth of those woods whose boughs were impenetrable to the beams of the sun.
' Here, continually, have I to combat with my sorrows: my mind is oppressed with grief for ever renewed; and I know not the sweetness of tranquillity and joy. Far from the country where first I sprung into life: without parents, a stranger to all the world, abandoned to the ardours of youth, I find myself in possession of a dangerous liberty, without having learnt how to conduct myself.
' Now disease shoots through my languishing frame, and stifles even the wish for glory, and for science! Now my disappointed hopes droop in the despondence of discouragement and grief: while the sea throws itself on the ruins of broken dykes, and brings it's waves and death to our gates; and Mars threatens us with the flames of war which kindle from the ashes
The inundation of the sea, and the bursting of a dyke, happen very frequently, in winter, at Amsterdam.—The Dutch were then on the eve of a war.
.
' But let us embrace comfort. All must terminate! The storm is weakened at each gust it blows. Passed evils teach us to enjoy the present good. Who is a stranger to adversity, is alike a stranger to pleasure. Time, who, with his rapid wing, hath brought my affliction, conducts also my felicity. I may yet inhale the purer air of my native hills!
' Ah! may I soon rejoin ye, groves beloved! and landscapes of spring! Ah! if Fate should indulge me once more to partake of the silent tranquillity of your solitude! Perhaps, the day is not distant. The blue sky shines when the storm is departed, and repose succeeds to pain. Flourish, ye scenes of delight! while I prepare to make my last voyage, in returning to your peaceful shades.'
THE POETRY OF HALLER VERSIFIED.
THE Lover of Polite Literature will be much gratified by the following enchanting Versification of the Poem of
Haller,
which we have feebly attempted to reduce into
Prose.
The present Versification, as spirited as it is elegant, is the production of a very superior Poet; to whom the Editor stands too deeply indebted, to pass over the recollection of benefits received from his Criticisms without being alive to the warmest sense of gratitude. This little production, to use one of his own classical allusions, will be but interweaving a transient blossom in the laurels of it's amiable Author.
AH! woods for ever dear! whose branches spread
Their verdant arch o'er HASEL's breezy head,
When shall I once again, supinely laid,
Hear Philomela charm your list'ning shade?
When shall I stretch my careless limbs again,
Where, gently rising from the velvet plain,
O'er the green hills, in easy curve that bend,
The mossy carpet Nature's hands extend?
Where all is silent! save the gales that move
The leafy umbrage of the whisp'ring grove;
Or the soft murmurs of the rivulet's wave,
Whose chearing streams the lonely meadows lave.
O Heav'n! when shall once more these eyes be cast
On scenes where all my spring of life was pass'd;
Where, oft responsive to the falling rill,
Sylvia and Love my artless lays would fill.
While Zephyr's fragrant breeze, soft breathing, stole
A pleasing sadness o'er my pensive soul.
Care, and her ghastly train, were far away;
While calm, beneath the sheltering woods, I lay
Mid shades, impervious to the beams of day.
Here—sad reverse!—from scenes of pleasure far,
I wage with Sorrow unremitting war:
Oppress'd with grief, my ling'ring moments flow,
Nor aught of joy, or aught of quiet, know.
Far from the scenes that gave my being birth,
From parents far, an outcast of the earth!
In youth's warm hours, from each restriction free,
Left to myself in dangerous liberty.
Now pale Disease shoots thro' my languid frame,
And checks the zeal for wisdom and for same.
Now droops fond Hope, by Disappointment cross'd;
Chill'd by neglect, each sanguine wish is lost.
O'er the weak mound stern Ocean's billows ride,
And waft destruction in with every tide;
While Mars, descending from his crimson car,
Fans with fierce hands the kindling flames of war.
Her gentle aid let Consolation lend:
All human evils hasten to their end.
The storm abates at every gust it blows:
Past ills enhance the comforts of repose.
He who ne'er felt the pressure of distress,
Ne'er felt returning pleasure's keen excess.
Time, who Affliction bore on rapid wing,
My panting heart to Happiness may bring:
I, on my native hills, may yet enhale
The purer influence of the ambient gale.
Ah! scenes of early joy! ah, much-lov'd shades!
Soon may my footsteps tread your vernal glades.
Ah! should kind Heav'n permit me to explore
Your seats of still tranquillity once more!
E'en now, to Fancy's visionary eye,
Hope shews the flattering hour of transport nigh.
Blue shines the aether, when the storm is pass'd;
And calm Repose succeeds to Sorrow's blast.
Flourish, ye scenes of ever new delight!
Wave wide your branches to my raptur'd fight!
While, ne'er to roam again, my wearied feet
Seek the kind refuge of your calm retreat.
INDEX.
A.
ABBOT of St. Aubin
chuses rather to give his orisons than a horse, 260.
Abelard,
slandered and condemned for a book he did not write, 122.
Adam
not the first man, 123.
Addison,
supposed to have borrowed the idea of two Tatlers from an old publication, 214.
Aetna and Vesuvius,
observations on, 423.
Age, Old,
the progress of in new studies, 148.
Alchymy,
strictures and anecdotes concerning this vain science, 195.
Amber-gris,
supposed to be petrified honey, 434.
America,
strictures on, from various Authors, 287.
Amusements
of men of letters, 78.
Anatomists, ancient,
dissected men alive, 421.
Ancients, and Moderns,
observation on the, 46.
Animals,
imitating language and actions, anecdotes of, 474.
Anthony, Mark,
his mode of haranguing the people, on the assassination of Caesar, 345.
Antimony,
curious account of it's discovery, 449.
Apostles,
commanded a community of riches amongst their disciples, 364.
Arabic,
observations on the, 507.
Aristotle,
Philip King of Macedon's letter to, 36.
Assassinations,
anecdotes of Italian, 353.
Astrology,
a faith in, of late existence, 193.
Athenians,
their character, 330.
Athenians,
an animated description of their luxuries, &c. 335.
Athenians,
establish a tribunal, to decide on theatrical compositions, 203.
Attic Pleasantries,
a collection of, 478.
Authors,
portraits of, placed, by the ancients before their works, 23.
Authors,
their impositions, 223.
Authors,
their poverty, anecdotes of, 60.
B.
Babylon,
it's situation unknown, 452.
Bacon, Friar,
an account of, 2.
Barbier's
Epitaph, 481.
Bark, Jesuit's,
curious account of it's origin, &c. 451.
Batavia,
inhumanities practised there on slaves, 372.
Beards,
the delight of ancient beauties, 417.
Beauties, Female, &c.
anecdotes of, 437.
Becker's Portrait,
epigram on, 482.
Beggars,
individuals were once permitted to make them slaves, 366.
Begging,
in Constantine's time, became general, owing to the great numbers of Christian slaves to whom he had given liberty, 365.
Bells,
of the church-steeple, how they advise about marriage, 458.
Bianca Capella,
interesting anecdote of her poisoning olives, 354.
Bibliomania,
account of deceptions practised on book-collectors, 19.
Bleeding, and Evacuation,
two remedies for Love, 427.
Book,
account of a visionary's, 219.
Books,
anecdotes of their destruction, 64.
Books of Love and Devotion,
observations on, 162.
Bray, Vicar of,
his character, 392.
C.
Calvin,
character and anecdotes of, 117.
Cantons, the Thirteen,
origin of, 300.
Canute,
the well-known anecdote of this Monarch, maliciously misrepresented by a French writer, 346.
Cardan,
his character, 116.
Carreri, Gemelli,
confined to his apartment, writes voyages through the world, 225.
Characters
described by musical notes, 214.
Charles the Fifth,
his opinions of the European nations, 307.
Charles the First,
applies a fine verse of Ovid to his own situation, 301.
Chinese,
desperate gamesters, 327.
Chinese
have no beggars, 366.
Chinese Physicians,
account of, 436.
Christians, the first,
built Hospitals for the various classes of poverty; which Julian, the Apostate, introduced among the Pagans, 365.
Chronicle, the Arabic,
criticism on, 125.
Cicero,
specimen of his puns, &c. 42.
Classics,
on teaching the, 85.
Classics,
on the editions in usum delphini, 92.
Coffee,
curious account of it's discovery, 451.
Coffee,
Purchas's strange description of, before it was introduced into Europe, 278.
Conception, and Expression,
in writers, strictures on, 161.
Composition, Literary,
advice on, 233.
Corneille, the Great,
deficient in conversation, 155.
Criticism,
sketches of, 11.
Criticism,
the art of, 167.
Criticism,
strictures on, 25.
Criticism,
severe, 145.
Critics, Noblemen turned,
anecdotes of, 164.
Customs, Jewish,
the origin of many of the Scripture expressions, 217.
D.
De Comines, Philip,
relates a conversation which passed betwixt the French King, Edward the Fourth, and himself, 388.
Descartes,
his system, said to be found in an obscure writer, 66.
Descartes,
his letter, describing a student in the metropolis, 207.
Descartes,
his wooden daughter, curious anecdote of, 441.
Diction, Geographical,
strictures on, 162.
Diseases, infectious,
ingenious speculation on, 431.
Dispensations of Marriage,
how first introduced, 271.
Disquisitions, scholastic,
of the eleventh century, 38.
Divinities, Royal,
titles bestowed on some of the Roman Emperors, 313.
Douglas,
an account of a religious paper published concerning this tragedy, 398.
Du Halde, Pere,
never travelled, though very minute in his account of Chinese scenery, &c. 225.
Dutch
and
German Languages,
observations on, 498.
E.
Edward the Fourth,
his character, &c. by De Comines, 386.
Elizabeth, Queen,
anecdotes of, 315.
English Ladies,
strictures on, 271.
English
language, observations on, 492.
Enmity, Religious,
several anecdotes concerning, 187.
Errata,
curious anecdotes of, 87.
Esdras,
criticism concerning, 34.
Euripides
accused by the Athenian judges of impiety, 203.
Expression and Conception,
in writers, strictures, on, 161.
F.
Fair Sex,
on their having no souls, 72.
Fashions,
anecdotes of various, 290.
Fathers of the Church,
criticisms on their writings, 144.
Female Beauty and Ornaments,
historical anecdotes of, 437.
Feudal Tyranny,
various instances and anecdotes of, 321.
Figures, the Numeral,
account of, 160.
Frauds, Pious,
anecdotes of, 435.
French,
their character contrasted with that of the Spaniards, 471.
G.
Gaming,
historical anecdotes concerning, 326.
Genius,
the inequalities of, strictures on, 206.
Gemara
criticised, 106.
Genealogies,
extravagant, 433.
Gibbon,
two of his errors detected, 177.
Gloves,
the history of, with curious anecdotes, 404.
Gongora,
the Spanish poet, some of his conceits, 150.
Goths,
with what barbarous magnificence they buried their Kings, 308.
Gregory the Seventh,
destroyed several works of the ancients, 37.
Grotius,
death-bed anecdote concerning him, 191.
H.
Haller, Baron,
on his poetry, 522.
Haller,
specimen beautifully versified, 528.
Harpies,
of the ancients, ingeniously supposed to be Locusts, 448.
Harvey,
his doctrine of the circulation of the blood, said to be found in the writings of St. Ambrose, 66.
Heart, Heavy,
a vulgar phrase, explained, 443.
Heart, the Lover's,
a tale, extracted from the memoirs of Champagne, 400.
Hebrew Language,
observations on the, 508.
Hell,
an account of, by Cardinal Bellarmine, 395.
Historian,
Le Clerc's four requisites to form a good one, 315.
Horseman,
a Venetian, humorous anecdote of, 466.
Huns,
their cruelty and magnificence in the burial of Alaric, 309.
I.
Jenkins,
the long-liver, account of, 319.
Jesuits,
a senate of, destroyed, 340.
Illustrious,
a title originally bestowed only on those who had distinguished themselves in arts or arms, 282.
Imitators,
strictures on, 41.
Innovation,
humorous anecdote concerning, 179.
Inquisition,
anecdotes of the, 279.
Joan of Arc,
curious epitaph on her, 285.
Journals, literary,
the origin of, 95.
Italians,
their character in the last century, 349.
Italians,
anecdotes of their assassinations, &c. 353.
K.
Kamtschadales,
their ridiculous customs, 268.
Kamtschadales,
in what manner they shew their esteem for their guests, 270.
'
King of England, France, &c.
' an absurd title, 303.
L.
Ladies, the English,
strictures on, 271.
Language,
observations on, 502.
Language, Living,
strictures on the, 503.
Languages,
character of the French, Spanish, and Italian, 500.
Languages,
curious catalogue of, 506.
Languages,
observations on the Samaritan, Chaldaic, Syriac, Ethiopian, Persian, Armenian, Tartarian, and Chinese, 511.
Latin,
anecdotes of a Pope's, 193.
Latin,
some remarks on, 488.
Lauder's
character of Milton, 254.
'
Law and the Prophets,
' this phrase explained, 28.
Learned,
amusements of the, 78.
Learned,
imprisonment of the, 56.
Learned,
poverty of the, 60.
Learned,
the persecuted, anecdotes of, 1.
Legends,
their origin, 67.
Letters, the Republic of,
humorous history of, 30.
Lettres, the Belles,
a sketch of their history, 82.
Libraries, Tartarian,
&c. noticed, 17.
Literary Journals,
their origin, 95.
Literary Composition,
advice concerning, 233.
Locusts
frequently mentioned in Scripture, account of, 448.
Lopes de Vega,
the Spanish poet, his conceits, 149.
Luther, Martin,
denies the immortality of the soul; a ridiculous distinction, to oppose the Church of Rome, 117.
Lycurgus
would not have, in his republic, either poor or rich, 360.
M.
Malayans,
when ruined by gaming, loosen a lock of their hair, and menace death to whosoever they meet, 328.
Man Absent,
Bruyere's, anecdotes of, 171.
Manuscripts, the Recovery of,
various anecdotes concerning, 8.
Mary, the Virgin,
an account of a letter addressed by her to the Messinians, 274.
Mary, the Virgin,
a donation made to her by Louis the Eleventh, 275.
Mary, the Virgin, and Magdalen,
humorous anecdote about them, 467.
Masses,
a King of Spain commands one hundred thousand to be said for him, 273.
Memory, Artificial,
anecdote concerning one who possessed this quality in a wonderful degree, 415.
Metaphors,
critical observations on, with instances of faulty and humorous ones, 173.
Metempsichosis,
strictures on, 486.
Metropolis,
student in the, finds a deeper solitude than in the seclusion of the country, 207.
Milton
account of the Salmasian Controversy, 247.
Milton
describes his person, &c. 249.
Milton
his Puritanic savageness, anecdote of, 252.
Milton
Lauder's character of, 254.
Milton
Bayle's review of his controversial writings, 255.
Ministers,
a novel etymology of this title, 185.
Moderns and Ancients,
a stricture on the, 46.
Monarchs,
an observation on, by Saint Chrysostom, 274.
Monarchs dethroned,
anecdotes, of, 311.
Monk,
anecdote of one who passed thirty years in writing three thousand questions concerning the Virgin Mary, 189.
Monks,
anecdotes of, 421.
Monks,
Spanish, a custom introduced by them, 273.
Monomotapa, the King of,
curious anecdote concerning his sneezing, 182.
Moses
endeavoured, by wise regulations, to soften the rigours of poverty, 358.
Mummies,
etymon, of, 499.
Music,
an account of it's wonderful power on mice and spiders, 446.
Musical Notes,
characters described by, 214.
N.
Negroes
sell their families and neighbours, 371.
Negroes
anecdotes of their miseries, 374.
Newspapers and Periodical Literature,
their origin, 228.
Nineveh,
it's situation unknown, 452.
Noah and Saturn
compared, 483.
Notes Variorum,
account of the, 91.
O.
Olives, poisoned,
a favourite Italian sweetmeat, 354.
Orleans, the Maid of,
a faggot supposed to have supplied her place when condemned to be burnt, 284.
Orleans, the Maid of,
various opinions concerning her, with a curious epitaph, 285.
P.
Pagan Mythology,
on it's use in poetry, 513.
Painters, Great,
anecdotes of two, 469.
Paris, Matthew,
his character as an historian, 159.
Parr,
the long liver, account of, 318.
Pasquin and Marforio,
account of those two famous statues in Rome, 444.
Patin, Guy,
his character, 100.
Patin, Guy,
bitterly complains of the Protestants, 276.
Patrons,
anecdotes concerning, 54.
Periers, De,
a humorous story extracted from his Bon Aventures, 183.
Periodical Literature,
it's origin, 228.
Persecutions, Mutual,
anecdotes of, 46.
Philip, King of Macedon,
his letter to Aristotle on the birth of Alexander, 36.
Philip, King of Macedon,
his behaviour when an Athenian reproved him for committing a solecism in language, 337.
Philip the Third,
an anecdote relating to him, 310.
Philip the Third,
dies a martyr to Spanish etiquette, 393.
Philological Book,
account of a curious one, 505.
Physicians
write little on professional subjects, 76.
Physicians Chinese,
their character, 436.
Physiognomy,
a curious extract from an old publication concerning it, 210.
Pliny
denies the immortality of the soul, 129.
Pliny
his thoughts on arrows and crystal vases, 130.
Pliny the Younger
describes his house very minutely, 130.
Pliny the Younger
an admirable sentence of, 130.
Poetry, Spanish,
specimens of, 149.
Poets and Artists, &c.
made by accident, 75.
Poets,
in Rome, recited their works in public; humorous anecdote of one, 456.
Pope's Latin,
anecdote of a, 193.
Porridge-Pot of the Cordeliers,
unfortunate adventure of a gluttonous brother, 467.
Poverty,
history of, 355.
Poverty, Wilful,
punished by Solon and Draco with death, 361.
Pouliats and Pouliches,
account of these unfortunate tribes, 293.
Preacher, the Excellent,
humorous anecdote of, 464.
Prefaces,
strictures on, 45.
Pretty,
criticism on this adjective, 192.
Printing, Early,
an account of, 53.
Prior's Hans Carvel,
a favourite tale with the old writers, 127.
Professor,
one established at Florence, for preserving and the teaching the vernacular language, 204.
Proverbs, Arabic,
257.
Proverbs,
an expression in Solomon's derived from a Jewish custom, 217.
Psalms,
an expression in them, explained by Mr. Bruce, from an Abyssinian ceremony, 218.
Publication,
Menage's advice on, 237.
Purchas, Samuel,
account of, and specimens of his style, 88.
Purchas, Samuel,
his description of coffee before it was introduced into Europe, 278.
R.
Racans, the Three,
curious impositions of two wits, 461.
Relic,
an account of a singular one, 389.
Religion,
a new one, by a learned scholar of the fifteenth century, 379.
Repasts,
singularities in, observed by various nations, 264.
Richelieu, Cardinal,
his character, and various anecdotes of, 111.
Roads, Roman,
their magnificence, 424.
Robbery,
trials for, decided by swallowing a piece of consecrated bread, 261.
Rochefoucault,
his character by Segrais, 143.
Romances,
a species of the epic, 133.
Romans, Ancient,
their censors kept an eye on vagabonds and sluggards, 361.
Romans, Ancient,
made their debtors slaves, 370.
S.
Saints carrying their Heads in their Hands,
remark on, 163.
Saint Evremond,
criticism on this author, and his character drawn by himself, 152.
Saturn
compared with Noah, 483.
Scaligers,
father and son, history of, 135.
Science,
the six follies of, 28.
Scripture Expressions
derived from customs, 217.
Scudery, Mademoiselle de,
an account of this celebrated authoress, 131.
Showers, Light Summer,
form burning mirrors, remarkable observation, 425.
Siamese
sell their families, &c. to discharge their gambling debts, 329.
Singularities
of a Traveller, 442.
Sixtus the Fifth,
anecdote of, 338.
Sixtas the Fifth,
a great political deception of his, 339.
Slavery,
various anecdotes concerning, 367.
Sneezing,
on the custom of saluting after, 181.
Society, the Port-Royal,
account of, 145.
Socrates,
his character elaborately drawn, 43.
Solomon and Sheba,
a curious Rabbinical anecdote, 453.
Spanish Poetry,
a criticism on, 149.
Spanish Etiquette,
two remarkable instances of, 393.
Spanish Nation
contrasted with the French, 471.
Student, a modest,
harangues his cabbages, 183.
T.
Talmud,
a critical account of this work, 106.
Tapestry, Enchanted,
curious anecdote of, 289.
Taste,
an anecdote concerning, 38.
Tertullian,
a bad writer, 119.
Thebes,
it's situation unknown, 452.
Thevenot
wrote his travels merely from what he collected from others, 224.
Thou, De,
the historian, anecdote of, 186.
Thoughts, Fine,
a collection of, 47.
Tongues, the Mother,
Scaliger's observations on, 487.
Translation,
strictures on, 226.
Transubstantiation,
described by Abbé Raynal in an account of a Mexican superstition, 286.
Trials of Superstitions,
an account of, 259.
Tribunal,
one established in Athens and Rome, to decide on the merits of theatrical pieces, 202.
Turk,
explanation of the title Great and Little, 292.
Turks
cultivate literature, 21.
Tyranny, Feudal,
various instances of it's abominable despotisms, 321.
V.
Varillas
passes fictitious memoirs for authentic facts, 223.
Varillas
examines a very singular composition, 189.
Venetian Horseman,
humorous anecdote of one, 466.
Vida,
affecting anecdote of, 157.
Virgil,
criticisms on, 238.
Virgil,
anecdote of his revenge on the inhabitants of Nole, 245.
Virgil,
a thirteenth book added to the Aeneid, 246.
Virgin and Magdalen,
humorous anecdote concerning them, 467.
Volume,
etymon of, 499.
W.
Wax-work,
account of a very curious piece of, 419.
William the Conqueror,
his method of retaliating the raillery of Philip the First of France, 305.
Writers,
account of some who wrote in characters not legible by the naked eye, 23.
FINIS.