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LIBRARY

UmVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

RIVERSIDE

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COLLECTION

OF

ANCrENT AND MODERN

BRITISH AUTHORS

VOL. LXXIII.

CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.

I.

I'niKIKl) I!V CRAPKf.KT, 9, nilE T)V. VAuninARn

CURIOSITIES

OF LITERATURE.

( I. DISRAELI, ESQ. D. C. L. F. S. A.J

VOL. I.

PARIS,

BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY,

RUE DC COQ, NEAR THE LOUVRE.

SOLD ALSO BY AMYOT , RUE DE LA PAIX ; TRUCHY , BOULEVARD DES ITAL1E^■S ;

TIIEOPniLE BARROIS, JON., RUE DE RICHELIEU; LIBRAIRIE DES ETRANGERS,

55, RUE NEUVE SAINT-AUGUSTIN , AND FRENCH AND ENGLISH LIBRARY,

RUE VIVIENNE.

1835.

?N43

FRANCIS DOUCE, Esq.
^I)e0<? Uolutncs

OF SOME LITERARY RESEARCHES

ARE inscribed;

AS A SLIGHT MEMORIAL OF FHIEKDSHIP .

A GRATEFUL ACKSOWLEDGME.NT ,
TO

A LOVER OF LITERATURE.

PREFACE.

Among the literary novelties of our times, one not the
least interesting has been those secret histories of their
works which some of our great authors have prefixed to
their late re-publications. Sir Walter Scott was induced
to furnish those details of his long mysterious , and
unowned compositions, to establish his appropriation of
those popular writings. Others have followed his ex-
ample; and no one has more deeply interested us than
our patriarch of literatur^ , Mr. Godwin, whose secret
history of his mode of composing his Caleb Williams is
a remarkable instance of that intellectual narrative,
which, perhaps, might be advantageously applied to
every work whose character has been sanctioned l3y the
only infallible critic — old and hoary Time !

I cannot, myself, consign to the press , for the ninth
time, these " Curiosities of Literature ," in their present
popular form , without being reminded of the peculiarity
of their fate. It is now approaching half a century since
their first volume appeared^ about a year or two after
the second succeeded. Twenty years elapsed before a
third was produced; and six years subsequently the last
three volumes were at once given to the world. Of vo-
lumes produced at such distinct intervals , it may be
worth notice' that they reflect three aeras of the writer's
life. In the first stage of investigation we are eager to

viij PREFACE.

acquire aild arrange knowledge ; in the second our cu-
riosity becomes more critical , and more varied ; aild in
the third, knowledge and curiosity opening the virgin
veins of original research , and striking out new results ,
in the history of human nature, we combine philosophy
with literature. For a long series of years these volumes
have been domestic favourites. A great personage once
called them his " little library," and they stand classed
in the catalogue, among the delicice Utterance. They
have received a more distinguished approbation by the
honour of being constantly referred to, by the most
eminent writers, both for their information and their
opinions.

A writer of nearly half a century standing may be
presumed to have passed beyond that state of inebriating
egotism in which authors, it is supposed, are apt to in-
dulge. The writer of half a century has outlived his
critics; and, alas ! has survived those whom he once had
an ambition to please. Praise cannot any longer extend
his celebrity, and censure cannot condemn what has won
the reward of public favour. Such a writer may venture
to talk of himself as one of a former generation , and may
be said to enjoy a sort of posthumous reputation.

•*

Bradcnluini, House, Bucks,
January, 1834.

CONTENTS.

LlBUARIES ., page 1

The Bibliomania 7

Literary journals 9

Recovery of Manuscripts 14

Sketches of Crilicism 19

The persecuted learned 22

Poverty of the learned , » 24

Imprisonment of the learned . 28

Amusements of the learned 31

Portraits of authors 34

Destruction of books 38

Some Notices of lost works 47

Quodlibets , or scholastic disquisitions 49

Fame contemned . . , 54

The six follies of science ibid.

Imitators 55

Cicero's puns f 57

Prefaces 59

Early printing 60

Errata 63

Patrons 67

Poets , Philosophers , and artists , made by accident 69

Inequalities of genius 72

Geographical style ibid.

Legends 73

The Port-Royal Society 77

The progress of old age in new studies 80

Spanish poetry 82

Saint Evremond. . . 84

Men of genius deficient la conversation 85

VIda 87

The Scuderies ibid.

De La Rochefoucault 91

Prior's Hans Carvel 92

The student in the metropolis 93

The Talmud 94

X CONTENTS.

Rabbinical stories. P^'^ge 100

On the custom of saluting after sneezing 105

Bonaventure ties Periers 107

Grotlus . . 108

Noblemen turned critics , 109

Literary impostures HO

Cardinal Richelieu 115

Aristotle and Plato . . . 117

Abelard and Eloisa 1 20

Physiognomy 123

Characters described by musical notes 126

Milton ^.# : 126

Origin of Newspapers .*.*. 128

Trials and proofs of guilt in superstitious ages. . 134

Inquisition •• 138

Singularities observed by various nations in their repasts 142

Monarchs 144

Of tlie titles of illustrious, highness, and excellence 146

Titles of sovereigns 148

Royal divinities 1 49

Dethroned monarchs , , 150

Feudal customs A. .-. .* 153

Gaming '. .» 156

The Arabic chronicle 159

Metempsychosis 160

Spanish etiquette .... 162

The Goths and Huns 163

Of vicars of Bray 164

Douglas ... ibid.

Critical history of Poverty 165

Solomon and Sheba 160

Hell 170

The absent man 172

Wax-work 173

Pasquin and Marforlt) 174

Female beauty and ornaments 176

Modern Platonism 1 78

Anecdotes of fashion 181

Stanzas 193

A Senate of Jesuits ... 194

The Lover's heart 196

TIic h jstory of gloves 1 97

Relics of Saints 201

Perpetual lamps of tlie aucirnls 204

CONTENTS. xj

Natural productions rBsembliiig artificial compositions. . . . page 2()5

The poetical Garland of Julia 207

Tragic actors 209

Jocular preachers 211

Masterly imitators 217

Edward the Fourth 220

Elizabeth 222

The Chinese language 225

Medical music 226

Minute writing 231

Numerical figures 233

English astrologers 234

Alchymj 238

Titles of Books 242

Litei'ary follies 246

Literary controversy '. 258

Literary blunders 269

A literary wife . 274

Dedications 283

Philosophical descriptive poems. -. 286

Pamphlets 288

Little Books 292

A catholic's refutation 294

The good advice of an old literary sinner ihid.

Mysteries , Moralities , Farces and Sotties 296

Love and folly, an ancient morality 303

Religious Nouvellettes 305

" Critical sagacity," and " happy conjecture : " or Bentley's

Milton 311

AJansenist dictionary , .- • - • ■ '^l'^

Manuscripts and Books. ...... .\ .,. M 315

The Turkish spy , 317

Spenser, Johnson , and Shakspeare 319

Ben Jonson , Feltham , and Randolph 320

Arlosto and Tasso , 325

Bayle , 330

Cervantes " 332

Magliabecchi iljiii.

Abridgers 335

Professors of Plagiarism and Obscurity 337

Literary Dutch 339

The productions of the mind not selzable by creditors 341

Critics •.- 342

Anecdotes of Authors censured 344

xji CONTENTS.

Virginity page 347

A glance into the French Academy 348

Poetical and grammatical deaths 351

Scarron 355

Peter CornelUe 361

Poets 365

Romances 374

The Astrea 381

Poets laureat 384

Angelo Politian 387

Original letter of queen Elizabeth 389

Anne Bullen 390

James the first 391

General Monk and his wife 396

Philip and Mary 397

CURIOSITIES

OF LITERATURE

LIBRARIES.

The passion for forming vast collections of books has necessarily
existed in all periods of human curiosity •, but long it required regal
munificence to found a national library. It is only since the art of
multiplying the productions of the mind has been discovered , that
men of letters have been enabled to rival this imperial and patriotic
honour. The taste for books , so rare before the fifteenth century,
has gradually become general only within these four hundred years :
in that small space of time the public mind of Europe has been
created.

Of Libraries , the following anecdotes seem most interesting , as
they mark either the affection , or the veneration , which civilised
men have ever felt for these perennial repositories of their minds.
The first national library founded in Egypt seemed to have been
placed under the protection of the divinities, for their statues magni-
ficently adorned this temple , dedicated at once to religion and to
literature. It was still further embellished by a well-known inscrip-
tion , for ever grateful to the votary of literature ; on the front was
engraven " The nourishment of the soul ; " or, according to Diodo-
rus , " The medicine of the mind."

The Egyptian Ptolemies founded the vast library of Alexandria ,
which was afterwards the emulative labour of rival monarchs ; the
founder infused a soul into the vast body he was creating , by his
choice of the librarian Demetrius Phalereus , whose skilful industry
amassed from all nations their choicest productions. Without such a
librarian , a national library would be little more than a lite-
rary chaos ; his well-exercised memory and critical judgment are
its best catalogue. One of the Ptolemies refused supplying the fa-
mished Athenians with wheal, until they presented him with the
I. 1

2 LIBRARIES.

original manuscripts ol' /Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides ; and in
returning copies of these autographs , he allowed them to retain the
fifteen talents which he had pledged with them as a princely security.

When tyrants , or usurpers . have possessed sense as well as cou-
rage, they have proved the most ardent patrons of literature^ they
know it is their interest to turn aside the public mind from political
speculations, and to afford their subjects the inexhaustible occupa-
tions of curiosity, and the consoling pleasures of the imagination.
Thus Pisistratus is said to have been among the earliest of the
Greeks , who projected an immense collection of the works of the
learned , and is supposed to have been the collector of the scattered
works , which passed under the name of Homer.

The Romans , after six centuries of gradual dominion , must have
possessed the vast and diversified collections of the writings of the
nations they conquered : among the most valued spoils of their vic-
tories , we know that manuscripts were considered as more precious
than vases of gold. Paulus Emilius, after the defeat of Perseus, king
of Macedon , brought to Rome a great number which he had amass-
ed in Greece , and which he now distributed among his sons , or
presented to the Roman people. Sylla followed his example. After
the siege of Athens , he discovered an entire library in the temple
of Apollo , which having carried to Rome , he appears to have been
the founder of the first Roman public library. After the taking of
Carthage , the Roman senate rewarded the family of Regulus with
the books found in that city. A library was a national gift, and the
most honourable they could bestow. From the intercourse of the
Romans with the Greeks , the passion for forming libraries rapidly
increased, and individuals began to pride themselves on their private
collections.

Of many illustrious Romans , their magnificent taste in their U-
hrnries has been recorded. Asinius Pollio, Crassus, Ctcsar, and
Cicero, have , among olhcMs, been celebrated for their literary splen-
dor. LucuUus , whose incredible opulence exhausted itself on more
than imperial luxuries, more honourably distinguished himself by
his vast collections of books, and the happy use he made of them by
Uu; liberal access he allowed the learned. " It was a library," says
Plutarch, " whose walks, galleries , and cabinets, were open to all
visiters •, and the ingenious Greeks, when at leisure , resorted to this
abode of the Muses to hold literary conversations, in which LucuUus
himself loved to join." Thi-s library, enlarged by others, Julius
Caisiu- once proi)osed to open for the public, having chosen the eru-
dite Varro for its librarian; but the daggers of Rrutus and his parly
prevented the meditated projects of Ca!sar. In this museum , Cicero
frequently pursued his studies , during the time his friend Faustus

LIBRARIES. 3

had the charge of it \ which he describes to Atlicus in his 4lh Book ,
Epist. 9. Amidst his public occupations and his private studies , ei-
ther of them sufTicient to have immortaUsed one man , we are asto-
nished at the minute attention Cicero paid to the formation of his
libraries , and his cabinets of antiquities.

The emperors were ambitious at length to give their names to
the libraries they founded ; they did not consider the purple as their
chief ornament. Augustus was himself an author ; and to one of those
sumptuous building called Thennes , ornamented with porticos,
galleries, and statues, with shady walks, and refreshing baths, tes-
tified his love of literature by adding a magnificent library. One of
these libraries he fondly called by the name of his sister Octavia ;
and the other, the temple of Apollo , became the haunt of the poets ,
as Horace , Juvenal , and Persius , have commemorated. The succes-
sors of Augustus imitated his example , and even Tiberius had an
imperial library, chiefly consisting of works concerning the empire
and the acts of its sovereigns. These Trajan augmented by the Ulpian
library, so denominated from the family name of this prince. In a
word , we have accounts of the rich ornaments the ancients bestowed
on their libraries 5 of their floors paved with marble , their w alls co-
vered with glass and ivory, and their shelves and desks of ebony
and cedar.

The first public library in Italy was founded by a person of no
considerable fortune : his credit , his frugality, and fortitude , were
indeed equal to a treasury. Nicholas Niccoli , the son of a merchant,
after the death of his father relinquished the beaten roads of gain ,
and devoted his soul to study, and his fortune to assist students. At
his death, he left his library to the public, but his debts being great-
er than his effects, the princely generosity of Cosmo de' Medici reali-
sed the intention of its former possessor, and afterwards enriched it
by the addition of an apartment , in which he placed the Greek, He-
brew , Arabic , Chaldaic , and Indian MSS. The intrepid spirit of
Nicholas V. laid the foundations of the Vatican •, the affection of Car-
dinal Bessarion for his country first gave Venice the rudiments of a
public library ; and to Sir T. Bodley we owe the invaluable one
of Oxford. Sir Robert Cotton, Sir Hans Sloane , Dr. Birch , M. Cra-
cherode, and others of this race of lovers of books, have all contribu-
ted to form these literary treasures, which our nation owe to the en-
thusiasm of individuals, who have consecrated their fortunes and
their days to this great public object ; or, which in the result produ-
ces the same public good, the collections of such men have been fre-
quently purchased on their deaths, by government, and thus have
been preserved entire in our national collections.

Literature , like virtue , is often its own reward , and the en-

4 LIBRARIES.

thusiasm some experience in tlic permanent enjoyments of a vast
library has far outweighed the neglect or thecahminy of the world,
which some of its votaries have received. From the lime that Cicero
poured forth his feelings in his oration for the poet Archias , innu-
merable are the testimonies of men of letters of the pleasurable deli-
rium of their researches. Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham , and
Chancellor of England so early as 1341 , perhaps raised the first
private library in our country. He purchased thirty or forty volumes
of the Abbot of St. Albans for fifty pounds weight of silver. He was so
enamoured of his large collection, that he expressly composed a trea-
tise on his love of books , under the title o^Philobiblion ,• and which
has been recently translated.

He who passes much of his time amid such vast resources , and
does not aspire to make some small addition to his library, were it
only by a critical catalogue, must indeed be not more animated than
a leaden Mercury. He nmst be as indolent as that animal called the
Sloth, who perishes on the tree he climbs, after he has eaten all its
leaves.

Rantzau , the founder of the great library at Copenhagen , whose
days were dissolved in the pleasures of reading, discovers his taste
and ardour in the following elegant effusion : —

Salvefe aureoli mei libelli ,

Meae deliciae , mei lepores !

Quam vos sape oculis juvat videre ,

Kt tritos mauibus tenere uostris!

Tot vos eximii , tot ci'uditL,

Prisci liimiua saecuH et rerentis,

Confecere viri, suasque vohis

Ausl credere Iticubratiooes :

Kt sperare dccus perenne scriptis ;

Neqne liKc irrita spes fefellit illos.

Golden volumes! richest treasures!
Objects of delicious pleasures !
You my eyes rejoicing please ,
You my liauds in rapture seize I
I»rilliant vrits, and musing sages.
Lights wlio beam'd through many ages,
Left to your conscious leaves their story ,
And dared to trust you with their glory;
And now their hope of fame achieved.
Dear volumes, you have not deceived!

This passion for the acquisition and enjoyment oihooks has been
I he (tccasion of their lovers embellishing their outsides with costly
<»riiaments , a rage; which oslenlalion may have abused 5 but when

LIBRARIES. S

these volumes belong lo llu; real man of loKers, the mosl fanciful
bindings are often the emblems of his lasle and feelings. The great
Thuanus procured the finest copies for his library, and his volumes
are still eagerly purchased , bearing his autograph on the last page.
A celebrated amateur was GroUier ; the INIuses themselves could not
more ingeniously have ornamented their favourite works. I have
seen several in the libraries of curious collectors. He embellished
their exterior with taste and ingenuity. They are gilded and stamped
with peculiar neatness ^ the compartments on the binding are drawn,
and painted , w ith different inventions of subjects , analogous to the
works themselves ^ and they are further adorned by that amiable
inscription , Jo. Grollierii et aniicoruni ! — purporting that these
literary treasures were collected for himself and for his friends !

The family of the Fuggers had long felt an hereditary passion
for the accumulation of literary treasures : and their portraits , w ith
others in their picture gallery, form a curious quarto volume of
127 portraits, rare even in Germany, entitled " Fuggerorum Pi-
nacotheca." Wolfius , who daily haunted their celebrated library,
pours out his gratitude in some Greek verses , and described this
bibliotheqne as a literary heaven , furnished with as many books as
there were stars in the firmament ^ or as a literary garden , in which
he passed entire days in gathering fruit and flowers , delighting and
instructing himself by perpetual occupation.

In 1364 ,»thc royal library of France did not exceed twenty vo-
lumes. Shortly after, Charles V, increased it to 900, which by the
fate of war, as much at least as by that of money, the Duke of Bed-
ford afterwards purchased and transported to London , w here libra-
ries were smaller than on the continent, about 1440. It is a cir-
cumstance worthy observation, that the French sovereign, Charles V,
surnamed the Wise, ordered that thirty portable lights, with a sil-
ver lamp suspended from the centre , should be illuminated at night,
that students might not find their pursuits interrupted at any hour.
Many among us, at this moment, whose professional avocations
admit not of morning studies , find that the resources of a public
library are not accessible to them from the omission of the regula-
tion of the zealous Charles V. of France. An objection to night-
studies in public libraries is the danger of fire , and in our ow n
British Museum ncft a light is permitted to be carried about on any
pretence whatever. The history of the " Bibliotheque du Roi ' is a
curious incident in literature •, and the progress of the human mind
and public opinion might be traced by its gradual accessions , noting
the changeable qualities of its literary stores chiefly from theology,
law, and medicine, to philosophy and elegant Jiterature. It was first un-
der Louis XIY, that the productions of the art of engraving were there

G LIBRARIES.

collected and arranged ; the great minister Colbert purchased the
extensive collections of the Abb6 De Marolles , who may be ranked
among the fathers of our print-collectors. Two hundred and sixty-
four ample portfolios laid the foundations ^ and the catalogues of his
collections, printed by Marolles himself, are rare and high-priced.
Our own national print gallery is yet an infant establishment.

Mr. Hallam has observed , that in 1440, England had made com-
paratively but little progress in learning — and Germany was pro-
bably still less advanced. However, in Germany, Trithemius , the
celebrated abbot of Spanheim, who died in 1516, had amassed
about two thousand manuscripts ; a literary treasure which excited
such general attention , that princes and eminent men travelled to
visit Trithemius and his library. About this time , six or eight
hundred volumes formed a royal collection , and their cost could
only be furnished by a prince. This was indeed a great advancement
in libraries , for at the beginning of the fourteenth century the li-
brary of Louis IX. contained only four classical authors ; and that of
Oxford , in 1300 , consisted of " a few tracts kept in chests."

The pleasures of study are classed by Burton among those exer-
cises or recreations of the mind which pass wuhin doors. Looking
about this "■ world of books ," he exclaims, " I could even live and
die with such meditations , and take more delight and true content
of mind in them than in all thy wealth and sport I There is a sweet-
ness , which , as Circe's cup, bewitcheth a student ; he tannot leave
off , as well may witness those many laborious hours , days , and
nights , spent in their voluminous treatises. So sweet is the delight
of study. The last day is prions discipulus. Heinsius was mewed
up in the library of Leyden all the year long , and that which , to
my thinking , should have bred a loathing , caused in him a greater
liking. ' I no sooner ,' sailh he , ^ come into the library, but I bolt
the door to me , excluding Lust , Ambition , Avarice , and all such
vices , whose nurse is Idleness , the mother of Ignorance and Me-
lancholy. In the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls,
1 take my seat with so lofty a spirit , and sweet content , that I pity
all our great ones and rich men, that know not this happiness. ' "
Such is the incense of a votary who scatters it on the altar less for
the ceremony pian from devotion.

There is , hdSvever, an intemperance in study* incompatible often
witli our social or more active duties. The illustrious Grolius expo-
sed himself to the reproaches of some of his contemporaries for ha-
ving too warmly pursued his studies , to the detriment of his public
station. It was the boast of Cicero , that his philosophical studies had
never intcrfenHl with the services he owed the re[)ub]ic , and that lie
had only dedicated to them the hours which others give to th<'ir

THE BlBUOiMANIA. 7

walks, Ihelr repasls , and their pleasures. Looking on his vohiminous
labours , we are surprised at this observation ^ how honourable is it
to him , that his various pliilosophical works bear the titles of the
different villas he possessed, which indicates that they were compo-
sed in these respective retirements! Cicero must have been an early
riser ; and practised that magic art in the employment of lime which
multiplies our days.

THE BIBLIOMAIVIA.

The preceding article is honourable to literature , yet even a
passion for collecting books is not always a passion for literature.

The BIBLI03IANIA , or the collecting an enormous heap of books
without inteUigent curiosity, has, since hbrarics have existed, in-
fected weak minds , who imagine that they themselves acquire
knowledge w hen they keep it on their shelves. Their motley libraries
have been called the madhouses of the hinnaii mind; and again ,
the tomb oj boohs , when the possessor will not communicate
them , and colDns them up in the cases of his library. It was fuce-
tiously observed, these collections are not without a Lock on the
Human Understanding, '

The BiBLiOMAMA never raged more violenty than in our own
times. It is fortunate that literature is in no w ays injured by the fol-
lies of collectors , since though they preserve the worthless , they
necessarily protect the good.

Some collectors place all their fame on the 'view of a splendid
library, where volumes arrayed in all the pomp of lettering , silk
linings, triple gold bands, and tinted leather, are locked up in wire
cases , and secured from the vulgar hands of the mere reader, daz-
zhng our eyes like eastern beauties peering through their jalousies!

Bruyere has touched on this mania with humour : "Of such a
collector, as soon as I enter his house , I am ready to faint on the
staircase , from a strong smell of Morocco leather : in vain he shows
me fine editions , gold leaves , Etruscan bindings , and naming them
one after another, as if he were showing a gallery of pictures ! a gal-
lery, by the by, which he seldom traverses when alone , for he
rarely reads •, but me he offers to conduct through it ! I thank him
for his pohteness , and as little as himself care to visit the tan-
house, which he calls his library."

' An allusioa and pun wbicli occasioned tlie Frencli translator of the pre-
sent work an unlucky blunder: puzzled no doubt by my facetiously, lie trans-
lates '• mettant, comme on I'a tres juJicieuscment fait ohserver, rentendeniont
humain sous la clef." The book, and the author alluded to , ({uite escnpcd
him !

8 THE BIBLIOMANIA.

LuciAN has composed a biting invective against an ignorant pos-
sessor of a vast library, like him, who in the present day, after
turning over the pages of an old book , chiefly admires the date.
LuciAN compares him to a pilot , who was never taught the science
of navigation 5 to a rider who cannot keep his seat on a spirited
horse 5 to a man who not having the use of his feet , would con-
ceal the defect by wearing embroidered shoes -, but , alas ! he can-
not stand in them! He ludicrously compares him to Thersites
wearing the armour of Achilles, tottering at every step; leering
with his little eyes under his enormous helmet, and his hunch-
back raising the cuirass above his shoulders. Why do you buy
so many books ? You have no hair, and you purchase a comb •,
you are blind , and you will have a grand mirror •, you are deaf,
and you will have fine musical instruments ! Your costly bindings
are only a source of vexation , and you are continually dischar-
ging your librarians for not preserving them from the silent in-
vasion of the worms , and the nibbling triumphs of the rats !

Such collectors will contemptuously smile at the collection of
the amiable Melancthon. He possessed in his library only four
authors, — Plato, Pliny, Plutarch, and Ptolemy the geographer.

Ancillon was a great collector of curious books , and dexterously
defended himself when accused of the Bibliomania. He gave a
good reason for buying the most elegant editions ; which he did not
consider merely as a literary luxury. The less the eyes are fatigued
in reading a work , the more liberty the mind feels to judge of it :
and as we perceive more clearly the excellencies and defects of a
printed book than when in MS. ; so we see them more plainly in
good paper and clear type than when the impression and paper are
both bad. He always purchased first editions , and never wailed for
second ones ; though it is the opinion of some that a first edition is
only to be considered as an imperfect essay , which the author pro-
poses to finish after he has tried the sentiments of the literary world.
Bayle approves of Ancillon's plan. Those who wait calmly for a book
till it is reprinted , show plainly that they are resigned to their
ignorance , and prefer the saving of a pistole to tlie acquisition of
knowledge. With one of these persons , who waited for a second
edition , which never appeared, a literary man argued, (hat it was
much belter to liave two editions of a book llian to deprive himself
(jf the advanlag(; which llio reading of the first might procure him ;
and it was a bad economy to prefer a few crowns to that advantage.
It has frequently happened , bedsides , that in second editions , the
author omits, as well as add.j, or makes alterations from prudential
reasons; tlu; displeasing truths which he co/vyx/v, as he might call
them , are so many losses incurred by Truth itself. There is an ad-

LITERARY JOURNALS. 9

vanlage in comparing the first with subsequent editions ; among
other things > we feci great satisfaction in tracing the variations of a
work, after its revision. Tliere are also other secrets, well known
to the intelligent curious, who arc versed in affairs relating to hooks.
Many first editions are not to he purchased for the Irehle value of
later ones. The collector we have noticed frequently said , as is re-
lated of Virgil, " I collect gold from Ennius's dung. " I find, in
some neglected authors particular things , not elsewhere to be found.
He read many of these, but not with equal attention — " Sicutcanis
ad JSilum hihens etfugiens; " like a dog at the Nile, drinking
and running.

Fortunate are those who only consider a book for the utility and
pleasure they may derive from its possession. Students , who know
much , and still thirst to know more , may require this vast sea of
books; yet in that sea they may suffer many shipwrecks.

Great collections of books are subject to certain accidents besides
the damp , the w orms , and the rats ; one not less common is that of
the borrowers , not to say a word of the piuioinersl

LITERARY JOURNALS.

When writers w ere not numerous , and readers rare , the unsuc-
cessful author fell insensibly into oblivion ; he dissolved away in his
own weakness. If he committed the private folly of printing what
no one w ould purchase , he was not arraigned at the public tribunal
— and the awful terrors of his day of judgment consisted only in the
retributions of his publisher's final accounts. At length, a taste for
literature spread through the body of the people ; vanity induced the
inexperienced and the ignorant to aspire to literary honours. To
oppose these forcible entries into the haunts of tlie IMuses , periodical
criticism brandished its formidable weapon ; and the fall of many ,
taught some of our greatest geniuses to rise. Multifarious writings
produced multifarious strictures ; and public criticism reached to
such perfection, that taste was generally diffused, enlightening
those whose occupations had otherwise never permitted them to
judge of literary compositions.

The invention of Reviews , in the form which they have at length
gradually assumed , could not have existed but in the most polished
ages of literature : for without a constant supply of authors , and a
refined spirit of criticism , they could not excite a perpetual interest
among the lovers of literature. These publications were long the
chronicles of taste and science, presenting the existing state of the
public mind , while they formed a ready resource for those idle hours ,
which men of letters would not pass idly.

10 LITERARY JOURNALS-

Their multiplicity has undoubtedly produced much evil ^ puerile
critics and venal drudges manufacture reviews ; hence that shameful
discordance of opinion , which is the scorn and scandal of criticism.
Passions hostile to the peaceful truths of literature have likewise
made tremendous inroads in the republic , and every literary virtue
has been lost! In " Calamities of Authors " I have given the history
of a literary conspiracy , conducted by a solitary critic , Gilbert
Stuart, against the historian Henry.

These works may disgust by vapid panegyric , or gross invective •,
weary by uniform dulness, or tantalise by superficial knowledge.
Sometimes merely written to catch the public attention , a malignity
is indulged against authors, to season the caustic leaves. A reviewer
has admired those works in private , which he has condemned in his
ofTicial capacity. But good sense, good temper, and good taste , will
ever form an estimable journalist, who wiU inspire confidence , and
give stability to his decisions.

To the lovers of literature these volumes, when they have outlived
their year, are not unimportant. They constitute a great portion of
literary history, and are indeed the annals of the republic.

To our own reviews , we must add the old foreign journals ,
which are perhaps even more valuable to the man of letters. Of these
the variety is considerable; and many of their writers are now
known. They delight our curiosity by opening new views, and
light up in observing minds many projects of works , wanted in our
own Uterature. Gibbon feasted on them ; and while he turned them
over with constant pleasure, derived accurate notions of works
which no student could himself have verified ; of many works a no-
lion is sufficient.

The origin of Ulerary journals was the happy project of Denis de
Sallo , a counsellor in the parliament of Paris. In 1665 appeared
his Journal des Scwans. He published his essay in the name of the
sieur de Hedouville, his footman! Was tliis a mere stroke of hu-
mour, or designed to insinuate that the freedom of criticism could
only be allowed to his lacquey? The work, however, met with so
favourable a reception, that Sallo had the satisfaction of seeing it,
the following year, imitated throughout Europe , and his Journal ,
at the same time, translated into various languages. But as most
authors lay themselves open to an acute critic, the animadversions
of Sallo were given with such asi)erity of criticism, and such ma-
lignity of wit, that this new journal excited loud murmurs, and the
most heart-moving complaints. The learned had tlu^r plagiarisms
detecl(!d, and the wit had his claims dis[)uled, Sarasin called the
gazettes of this new Aristanhus , Hebdoinadary I'lams ! Billevezees
/icbdomadaircs! and Menage having i)ublisheda law-book, which

LITERARY JOURNALS. 11

Sallo had treated with severe raillery, he entered into a long argu-
ment to prove, according to Justinian , that a lawyer is not allowed
to defame another lawyer, etc. -. Senatori maledicere jion licet,
lemaledicere jus fasque est. Others loudly declaimed against this
new species of imperial tyranny , and this attempt to regulate the
public opinion by that of an individual. Sallo, after having published
only his third volume , felt the irritated wasps of literature thronging
so thick about him , that he very gladly abdicated tlie throne of cri-
ticism. The journal is said to have suffered a short interruption by a
remonstrance from the nuncio of the pope , for the energy with
which Sallo had defended the liberties of the Gallican church.

Intimidated by the fate of Sallo, his successor, Abbe Gallois ,
flourished in a milder reign. He contented himself with giving the
titles of books , accompanied with extracts 5 and he was more useful
than interesting. The public , who had been so much amused by the
raillery and severity of the founder of this dynasty of new critics ,
now murmured at the want of that salt and acidity by w hich they had
relished the fugitive collation. They were not satistied with having
the most beautiful , or the most curious parts of a new work brought
together ; they wished for the unreasonable entertainment of railing
and raillery. At length another objection was conjured up against
the review; mathematicians complained they were neglected to
make room for experiments in natural philosophy •, the historian
sickened over works of natural history ^ the antiquaries would have
nothing but discoveries of MSS. or fragments of antiquity. Medical
works were called for by one party and reprobated by another. In a
word , each reader wished only to have accounts of books , which
were interesting to his profession or his taste. But a review is a work
presented to the public at large, and written for more than one
country. In spite of all these dilTiculties , this work was carried to a
vast extent. An index to the Journal des Savans has been ar-
ranged on a critical plan , occupying ten volumes in quarto , which
may be considered as a most useful instrument to obtain the science
and literature of the entire century.

The next celebrated reviewer is Rayle, who undertook, in 1684,
his Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres. He possessed the
art , acquired by habit, of reading a book by his fingers , as it has^
been happily expressed-, and of comprising , in concise extracts, a
just notion of a book, without the addition of irrelevant matter. Live-
ly, neat, and full of that attic salt which gives a relish to the
driest disquisitions , for the first time the ladies and all the heau-
monde took an interest in the labours of the critic. He wreathed
the rod of criticism with roses. Yet even Bayle , who declared
himself to be a repoiler, and not a judge , Bayle ttie discreet

t2 LITERARY JOURNALS.

sceptic, could nol long satisfy his readers. His panegyric was
thought somewhat prodigal ; his fluency of style somewhat loo
familiar; and others affected not to relish his gaiety. In his latter
volumes, to still the clamour, he assumed the cold sobriety of an
historian : and has bequeathed no mean legacy to the literary world ,
in thirty-six small volumes of criticism, closed in 1687. These were
continued by Bernard , with inferior skill ^ and by Basnage more
successfully in his Histoire des Oiwrages des Scavans.

The contemporary and the antagonist of Bayle was Le Clerc.
His firm industry has produced three Bibliolheques—Universelle
et Historique , Choisie , imdJjicienne et Moderne; forming in
all 82 volumes, which, complete, bear a high price. Inferior to
Bayle in the more pleasing talents, he is perhaps superior in eru-
dition , and shows great skill in analysis : but his hand drops no
flowers ! Apostolo Zeno's Giornale de, Litterali d' Italia , from
1710 to 1733, is valuable. Gibbon resorted to Le Clerc's volumes
at his leisure, "as an inexhaustible source of amusement and in-
struction."

Beausobre and L'Enfant, two learned Protestants, wrote a
Bihliothcque Gemumique , from 1720 to 1740, in 50 volumes.
Our own literature is interested by the '•'• Blbliotlihqae Britaii-
Jiique ,'" written by some literary Frenchmen, noticed by La Croze
in his " Voyage Litteraire," who designates the writers in this most
tantalising manner : " Les auteurs sont gens de merite, ct qui en-
tendenl lous parfailemcnt Tanglais; Messrs. S. B. , le M. D. et le
savant Mr. D." Posterity has been partially let into the secret : De
Missy was one of the contributors, and Warburton communicated
his project of an edition of Velleius Paterculus. This useful account
of English books begins in 1733, and closes in 1747, Hague,
23 vols. : to this we nmstadd The Journal Britanniiiae , in 18 vo-
lumes, by Dr. Maty, a foreign physician residing in London-, this
Journal exhibits a view of the state of English literature from 1750
to 1755. GiBBOiN bestows a high character on the journalist, who
sometimes "aspires to the character of a poet and a philosopher;
one of the last disciples of the school of I'onlenelle."

Maty's son produced here a review known to the curious \ his
style and decisions often discover haste and heat, with some striking
observations : alluding to his fatiier. Maty, in his motto, applies
Virgil's description of the young Ascanius, '•"^n\\\\\\\x paUt-Di non
passibus ai(|uis." He. says Ik; only holds a nionlldy vonvcrsaUoa
with the public. His obstinalx; resolution of carrying on this review
without an associate, lias siiown its folly and its danger-, for a fatal
illness produced a cessation, at once, of his [)eriodical labours and
))is life. *

LITERARY JOURNALS. 13

Other reviews , arc the Memoirea de Trcvoux , written by the
Jesuits. Their caustic censure and vivacity of style made them re-
doubtable in their day ; they did not even spare their brotliers. The
Journal Litterairc , printed at the Hapjue, was chiclly composed
by Prosper Marchand , Sallengre, Van ElTen , who were then young
writers. This list may be augmented by other journals, which some-
times merit preservation in the history of modern literature.

Our early English journals notice only a few publications , with
little acumen. Of these, the " Memoirs of Literature,'' and the
" Present State of the Republic of Letters," are the best. The
Monthly Review, the venerable (now the deceased) mother of our
journals , commenced in 1749.

It is impossible to form a literary journal in a manner such as
might be wished ^ it must be the work of many of different tempers
and talents. An individual, however versatile and extensive his
genius , would soon be exhausted. Such a regular labour occasion-
ed Bayle a dangerous illness , and Maty fell a victim to his review.
A prospect always extending as we proceed, the frequent novelty of
the matter, the pride of considering one's self as the arbiter of lite-
rature, animate a journalist at the commencement of his career;
but the literary Hercules becomes fatigued ; and to supply his
craving pages he gives copious extracts, till the journal becomes
tedious , or fails in variety. Abbe Gallois w as frequently diverted
from continuing his journal , and Fontenclle remarks , that this oc-
cupation was too restrictive for a mind so extensive as his ^ the Abb6
could not resist the charms of revelling in a new work , and gratify-
ing any sudden curiosity which seized him ^ this interrupted perpe-
tually the regularity which the public expects from a journalist.

The character of a perfect journalist w ould be only an ideal por-
trait •, there are, however, some acquirements which are indispen-
sable. He must be tolerably acquainted with the subjects he treats
on ; no common acquirement I He must possess the literary history
of his own times; a science which Fontenelle observes is almost
distinct from any other. It is the result of an active curiosity, which
lakes a lively interest in the tastes and pursuits of the age , while it
saves the journalist from some ridiculous blunders. We often see
the mind of a reviewer half a century remote from the w ork re-
viewed. A fine feeling of the various manners of writers , with a
style adapted to fix the attention of the indolent , and to win the
untractable , should be his study ; but candour is the brightest gem
of criticism ! He ought not to throw every thing into the crucible ,
nor should he suffer the whole to pass as if he trembled to touch
it. Lampoons and satires in time will lose their effect , as well as
panegyrics. He must learn to resist the seductions of his own pen-,

14 RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS.

the pretension of composing a treatise on the subject , rather than
on the book he criticises — proud of insinuating that he gives , in a
dozen pages, what the author himself has not been able to perform
in his volumes. Should he gain confidence by a popular delusion
and by unworthy conduct , he may chance to be mortified by the
pardon or by the chastisement of insulted genius. The most noble
criticism is that in which the critic is not the antagonist so much
as the rival of the author.

RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS.

Our ancient classics had a very narrow escape from total anni-
hilation. Many have perished : many are but fragments ; and chance,
blind arbiter of the works of genius , has left us some , not of the
highest value ; which , however, have proved very useful , as a test
to show the pedantry of those who adore antiquity not from true
feeling , but from traditional prejudice.

We lost a great number of ancient authors , by the conquest of
Egypt by the Saracens , which deprived Europe of the use of the
papyrus. They could find no substitute , and knew no other expe-
dient but writing on parchment , which became every day more
scarce and costly. Ignoraiice and barbarism unfortunately seized
on Roman manuscripts , and industriously defaced pages once ima-
gined to have been immortal ! The most elegant compositions of
classic Rome were converted into the psalms of a breviary, or the
prayers of a missal. Livy and Tacitus " hide their diminished heads"
to preserve the legendof a saint,and immortal truths were converted
into clumsy fictions. It happened that the most voluminous authors
were the greatest sufferers ; these were preferred , because their
volume being the greatest , most profitably repaid their destroying
industry, and furnished ampler scope for future transcription. A
Livy or a Diodorus was preferred to the smaller works of Cicero or
Horace ; and it is to this circumstance that Juvenal , Persius , and
Martial have come down to us entire, rather probably than to these
pious personages preferring their obscenities, as some have accused
them. At Rome , a part of a book of Livy was found , between the
lines of a parchment but half effaced, on which they had substituted
a book of the Bible ; and the recent discovery of Cicero dc liepu-
blicd , which lay concealed under some monkish writing , shows
the fate of ancient manuscripts.

That the Monks had not in high veneration the profane authors,
appears by a facetious anecdote. To read the classics was considered
as a very idle recreation , and some held them in great horror. To
distinguish them from other bookSj they invented a disgraceful sign :

RECOVERY OF MAINLSCRIPTS. 15

when a monk asked for a pagan author, afler making the general
sign they used in tlieir manual and silent language when they wanted
a book, he added a particular one, which consisted in scratching
under his ear, as a dog, which feels an itching, scratches himself
in that place with his paw — because , said they , an unbeliever is
compared to a dog I In this manner they expressed an itching for
those dogs , Virgil or Horace I

There have been ages when , for the possession of a manuscript ,
some would transfer an estate , or leave in pawn for its loan hund-
reds of golden crow ns •, and when even the sale or loan of a manus-
cript was considered of such importance as to have been solemnly
registered by public acts. Absolute as was Louis XI. he could not
obtain the MS. of Rasis , an Arabian writer , to make a copy , from
the library of the Faculty of Paris, w ithout pledging a hundred gold-
en crow ns \ and the president of liis treasury , charged with this
commission , sold part of his plate to make the deposit. For the loan
of a volume of Avicenna , a Baron offered a pledge of ten marks of
silver, which was refused : because it was not considered equal to
the risk incurred of losing a volume of Avicenna ! These events
occurred in 1471. One cannot but smile at an anterior period, when
a countess of Anjou bought a favourite book of homilies for two
hundred sheep , some skins of martins , and bushels of w heat and rye.
In these times , manuscripts were important articles of commerce ;
they were excessively scarce , and preserved w ith the utmost care.
Usurers themselves considered them as precious objects for pawn.
A student of Pavia , who w as reduced , raised a new fortune by leav-
ing in pawn a manuscript of a body of law ; and a grammarian , who
was ruined by a fire , rebuilt his house w ith two small volumes of
Cicero.

At the restoration of letters , the researches of literary men were
chiefly directed to this point ; every part of Europe and Greece was
ransacked^ and, the glorious end considered, there was something
sublime in this humble industry , w hich often recovered a lost au-
thor of antiquity , and gave one more classic to the world. This oc-
cupation was carried on with enthusiasm, and a kind of mania pos-
sessed many who exhausted their fortunes in distant voyages and
profuse prices. In reading the correspondence of the learned Ita-
lians of these limes , their adventures of manuscript hunting are
very amusing ; and their raptures, their congratulations, or at times
their condolence , and even their censures , are all immoderate. The
acquisition of a province w ould not have given so much satisfaction
as the discovery of an author Uttle known, or not known at all. "Oh,
greatgain I Oh, unexpected felicity I I intreat you, my Poggio, senc
me the manuscript as soon as possible, that I may see it before I die I"

16 RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS.

exclaims Arelino, in a loUor overflowing wilh enthusiasm, on
Poggio's discovery of a copy of Quintilian.Somo of the half-witted,
who joined in this great hunt , were often thrown out, and some paid
high for manuscripts not authentic ; the knave played on the bung-
ling amateur of manuscripts , whose credulity exceeded his purse.
But even among the learned , much ill blood was inflamed 5 he who
had been most successful in acquiring manuscripts was envied by
the less fortunate, and the glory of possessing a manuscript of Cicero
seemed to approximate to that of being its author. It is curious to
observe that in these vast importations into Italy of manuscripts from
Asia, John Aurispa, who brought many hundreds of Greek manu-
scripts , laments that he had chosen more profane than sacred wri-
ters 5 which circumstance he tells us was owing to the Greeks, who
would not so easily part with theological works, but' they did not
highly value profane writers !

These manuscripts were discovered in the obscurest recesses of
monasteries ^ they were not always imprisoned in libraries , but rot-
ling in dark unfrequented corners with rubbish. It required not less
ingenuity to find out places where to grope in , than to understand
the value of the acquisition. A universal ignorance then prevailed in
the knowledge of ancient writers. A scholar of those limes gave the
first rank among the Latin writers to one Valerius , whether he
meant Martial or Maximus is uncertain •, he placed Plal^o and TuUy
among the poets , and imagined that Ennius and Statins were con-
temporaries. A library of six hundred volumes was then considered
as an extraordinary collection.

Among those whose lives were devoted to this purpose Poggio the
Florentine stands distinguished ; but he complains that his zeal was
not assisted by the great. He found under a heap of rubbish in a
decayed coffer, in a tower belonging to the monastery of St. Gallo,
the work of Quintilian. He is indignant at its forlorn situation-, at
least, he cries, it should have been preserved in the library of the
monks ■, but I found it in telerritno quodani et obsciiro carcere —
and to his great joy drew it out of its grave! The monks have been
complimented as the preservers of literature, but by facts, like the
present, their real affection may be doubted.

The most valuable copy of Tacitus, of whom so much is wanting,
was likewise discovered in a monastery of Westphalia. It is a curious
circumstance in literary history, that we should owe Tacitus to this
single copy ; for the IVoman emperor of that name had copies of the
works of his illustrious ancestor placed in all the libraries of the em-
pire, and every year had ten copies transcribed \ but the Roman
ibraries seem to have b(!en all destroyed, and the imperial protection
vailed nothing against the teeth of time.

RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS. 17

The original ipanuscripl of Justinian's code was discovered by the
Pisans , acciScnlally, when Ihey look a city in Calabria ; that vast
code of laws had been in a manner unknown froni the time of that
emperor. This curious book was brought to Pisa ^ and when Pisa
was taken by the Florentines, was transferred to Florence, where it
is still preserved.

It sometimes happened that manuscripts were discovered in the
last agonies of existence. Papirius Masson found, in the house of a
bookbinder of Lyons, the works of Agobart^ the mechanic was on
the point of using the manuscripts to line the covers of his books. A
page of the second decade of Livy it is said was found by a man of
letters in the parchment of his battledore , while he was amusing
himself in the country. He hastened to the maker of the battledore
— but arrived too late ! The man had finished the last page of Livy
— about a week before !

Many works have undoubtedly perished in this manuscript state.
By a petition of Dr. Dee to Queen Mary , in the Cotton library, it
appears that Cicero's treatise de Repuhlicd was once extant in this
country. Huet observes that Pelronius was probably entire in the days
of John of Salisbury, who quotes fragments, not now to be found in
the remains of the Roman bard. Raimond Soranzo, a lawyer in the
papal court, possessed two books of Cicero on Glory, which he pre-
sented to Petrarch , who lent them to a poor aged man of letters , for-
merly his preceptor. Urged by extreme want , the old man pawned
them , and returning home died suddenly without having revealed
where he had left them. They have never been recovered. Petrarch
speaksof them with ecstasy, and tells us that he had studied them
perpetually. Two centuries afterwards , this treatise on Glory by
Cicero was mentioned in a catalogue of books bequeathed to a monas-
tery of nuns , but when inquired after was missing. It was supposed
that Petrus Alcyonius, physician to that household, purloined it,
and after transcribing as much of it as he could into his own writ-
ings, had destroyed the original. Alcyonius , in his book De Exilio,
the critics observed , had many splendid passages which stood isolated
in his work, and were quite above his genius. The beggar, or in
this case the thief, was detected by mending his rags with patches of
purple and gold.

In this age of manuscript , there is reason to believe , that when a
man of letters accidentally obtained an unknown work, he did not
make the fairest use of it, and cautiously concealed it from his con-
temporaries. Leonard Aretino , a distinguished scholar at the dawn of
modern literature , having found a Greek manuscript of Procopius
De Bello Gothico, translated it into Latin, and published the work;
but concealing the author's name , it passed as his own . fill another

18 RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS.

manuscript of the same work being dug out of its grave , the fraud
of Aretino was apparent. Barbosa , a bishop of Ugento , in 1649, has
printed among his works a treatise , obtained by one of his domestics
bringing in a fish rolled in a leaf of written paper , which his curio-
sity led him to examine. He was sufTicienlly interested to run out
and search the fish market , till he found the manuscript out of which
it had been torn. He pubUshed it under the title De Officio Epis-
copi. Machiavelli 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 his hero Castrucio Castricani.

In morej-ecent times, we might collect many curious anecdotes
concerning manuscripts. Sir Robert Cotton one day at his tailor's
discovered that the man was holding in his hand , ready to cut up
for measures — an original Magna Charta , w ith all its appendages of
seals and signatures. This anecdote is told by Colomies , who long
resided in this country ; and an original Magna Charta is preserved
in the Cottonian library exhibiting marks of dilapidation.

Cardinal Granvelle left behind him several chests filled with a
prodigious quantity of letters written in different languages , com-
mented, noted, and under-fined by his own hand. These curious
manuscripts , after his death , were left in a garret to the mercy of
the rain and the rats. Five or six of these chests the steward sold to
the grocers. It was then that a discovery was made of this treasure.
Several learned men occupied themselves in collecting sufficient of
these literary relics to form eighty thick folios , consisting of original
letters by all the crowned heads in Europe , with instructions for
ambassadors , and other stale-papers.

A valuable secret history by Sir George Mackenzie , the king's
advocate in ScoUand , was rescued from a mass of waste paper sold
to a grocer, w ho had the good sense to discriminate it , and commu-
nicated this curious memorial to Dr. M'Crie. The original , in the
handwriting of its author, has been deposited in the Advocates'
Library. There is an hiatus , which contained the history of six
years. This work excited inquiry after the rest of the MSS., which
were found to be nothing more than the sweepings of an attorney's
office.

Montaigne's. Tournal of his Travels into Italy has been but recently
pul)lished. A prebendary of Perigord , travelling through this pro-
vince to make researches relative to its history , arrived at the an-
cient chateau of Montaigne , in possession of a descendant of this
great man. He inquired for the archives, if there had been any. He
was shown an old worm-eat(!n colfer, which had long held papers
untouched by the incurious generations of Montaigne. Stilled in

RECOVERY OF MANUSCRIPTS. 1!)

clouds of dust , he drew out the original manuscript of the Travels
of Montaigne. Two thirds of the work are in the hand-writing of
Montaigne , and the rest is written by a servant , who always speaks
of his master in the third person. But he must have written what
Montaigne dictated , as the expressions and the egotisms are all Mon-
taigne's. The bad writing and orthography made it almost unintelli-
gible. They confirmed Montaigne's own observation , that he was
very negligent in the correction of his works.

Our ancestors were great hiders of manuscripts : Dr. Dee's sin-
gular MSS. were found in the secret drawer of a chest, which had
passed through many hands undiscovered ; and that vast collection
of state-papers of Thurloe's , the secretary of Cromwell , which
formed about seventy volumes in the original manuscripts, accidentr
ally fell out of the false ceiling of some chambers in Lincoln's-Inn.

A considerable portion of Lady Mary Wortley Montague's letters I
discovered in the hands of an attorney : family-papers are often con-
signed to offices of lawyers , where many valuable manuscripts are
buried. Posthumous publications of this kind are too frequently made
from sordid motives : discernment and taste would only be detrimen-
tal to the views of bulky publishers.

SKETCHES OF CRITICISM.

It may, perhaps, be some satisfaction to show the young writer,
that the most celebrated ancients have been as rudely subjected to
the tyranny of criticism as the moderns. Detraction has ever poured
the "waters of bitterness."

It was given out , that Homer had stolen from anterior poets what-
ever was most remarkable in the Iliad and Odyssey. Naucrates even
points out the source in the library at Memphis in a temple of Vul-
can , which according to him the blind bard completely pillaged.
Undoubtedly there were good poets before Homer ^ how absurd to
conceive that an elaborate poem could be the first ! We have indeed
accounts of anterior poets, and apparently of epics, before Homer;
jElian notices Syagrus , who composed a poem on the Siege of Troy ;
and Suidas the poem of Corinnus^ from which it is said Homer
greatly borrowed. Why did Plato so severely condemn the great bard,
and imitate him?

Sophocles was brought to trial by his children as a lunatic ; and
some , who censurea the inequalities of this poet , have also condem-
ned the vanity of Pindar; the rough verses of iEschylus ; and Euri-
pides , for the conduct of his plots.

Socrates , considered as the wisest and the most moral of men ,
Cicero treated as an usurer, and the pedant Athenaeus as illiterate ;

20 SKETCHES OF CRITICISM.

the latter points out as a Socralic folly our philosopher disserting on
Ihe nature of juslice before his Judges, ^^ho were so many thieves.
The malignant buffoonery of Aristophanes treats him much worse ;
but he , as Jortin says , was a great wit , but a great rascal.

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 — Athenseus accuses of envy ; Theo-
pompus , of lying ; Suidas , of avarice ^ Aulus Gellius , of robbery ;
Porphyry, of incontinence ^ and Aristophanes , of impiety.

Aristotle, whose industry composed more than four hundred vo-
lumes , has not been less spared by the critics 5 Diogenes Laertius ,
Cicero, and Plutarch, have forgotten nothing that can tend to show
his ignorance , his ambition , and his vanity.

It has been said , that Plato was so envious of the celebrity of
Democritus, that he proposed burning all his works-, but that
Amydis and Clinias prevented it, by remonstrating that there were
copies of them every where ; and Aristotle was agitated by the same
passion against all the philosophers his predecessors.

Virgil is destitute of invention, if wc are to give credit to Pliny,
Carbilius, and Seneca. Caligula has absolutely denied him even. me-
diocrity ; Hercnnus has marked his liiults 5 and Pcrilius 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 •, from Apollonius Rhodius , many of his pathetic
passages ^ from Nicander, hints for his Georgics •, and this does not
terminate the catalogue.

Horace censures the coarse humour of Plautus; and Horace, in
his turn , has been blamed for the free use he made of the Greek
minor poets.

The majority of the critics regard Pliny's Natural History only as
a heap of fables 5 and Pliny cannot bear with Diodorus and Vopis-
cus ^ and in one comprehensive criticism , treats all the historians as
narrators of fables.

Livy has been reproached for his aversion Ip the Gauls-, Dion,
for his hatred of the republic; Yelleius Patenailus , for speaking too
kindly of the vices of Tiberius; and Herodotus and Plutarch, for
their excessive partiality to their own country : while the latter has
\vrilt(Mi an entire treatise on the malignity of Herodotus. Xenophon
and Qnintus Curtius have been considered ral^'er as novelists than
historians; and Tacitus has been censured forms audacity in pre-
tending to discover the political springs and secret causes of events.
Dionysiiis of llalicarnassiis has made an elaborate attack on Tlincy-
(lides lor Ihe imskilful choice of his subject, and his manner of
treating it. Dionysius would have nothing written but what tended

SKETCHES 01- ClUTltlSM. 21

lo the glory of his country and the pleasure of the reader — as if his-
tory were a song! adds Ilohbes, who also shows a personal motive
in this attack. Ttic same Dionysius severely criticises the style of
Xenophon , who, he says in attempting lo elevate his style, sh(nvs
himself incapable of supporting it. Polybius has been blamed for his
frequent introduction of reflections, which interrupt the thread of
his narrative ; and Sallust has been blamed by Cato for indulging his
own private passions, and studiously concealing many of the glo-
rious actions of Cicero. Tlie Jewish historian Josephus is accused of
not having designed his history for his owyp people so nmch as for
the Greeks and Romans , whom he takes the utmost care never to
offend. Josephus assumes a Roman name, Flavins ; and considering
his nation as entirely subjugated , lo make Ihem appear dignified lo
their conquerors , alters what he himself calls the Holy boohs. It is
well known how widely he differs from the scriptural accounts. Some
have said of Cicero , that there is no connexion , and , to adopt theii-
own figures, no /)/oo<:/ and nerves, in \v hat his admirers so warmly
extol. Cold in his extemporaneous effusions , artificial in his exor-
diums , trifling in his strained raillery, and tiresome in his digres-
sions. This is saying a good deal about Cicero.

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 Dcmadcs , his orations appear too much
laboured •, others have thought him too dry ; and , if we may trust
yEschines , his language is by no means pure.

The Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius, and the Deipnosophists of
Athenaius , while they have been extolled by one parly, have been
degraded by another. They have been considered as botchers of
rags and remnants •, their diligence has not been accompanied by
judgment ; and their taste inclined more lo the frivolous than to the
useful. Compilers , indeed , arc liable lo a hard fale , for little dis
tinclion is made in their ranks 5 a disagreeable situation , in which
honest Burton seems to have been placed 5 for he says of his work,
that some will cry out, "This is a thinge of meerc industrie : a
collecdoji without wit or invention-, a very toy! So men are va-
lued ; their labours vilified by fellowcs of no worth themselves , as
things of nought^ who could not have done as much? Some under-
slande too little, and some too much."

Should we proceed with this list lo our own country , and to our own
times , it might be curiously augmented , and show the world what
men the Critics are I but, perhaps, enough has been said to soothe
irritated genius , and to shame fastidious criticism. "Iwouldbeg
the critics to remember," the Earl of Roscommon writes , in his
preface to Horace's Art 01 Poelrv, •• that Horace owed his favour

22 SKETCHES OF CRITICISM.

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 understand-
ing among the ingenious , and those who were the most esteemed
were the best natured."

THE PERSECUTED LEARNED.

Those who have laboured most zealously to instruct mankind

have been those who have suffered most from ignorance ^ and the

discoverers of new arts and sciences have hardly ever lived to see

them accepted by the world. With a noble perception of his own

genius , Lord Bacon , in his prophetic will , thus expresses himself.

I? ^ . v^,^ " ^^^ ^^ name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches ,

firi ^ ' 3"^ to foreign nations , and the next ages." Before the times of Ga-

fui: ^^**^o ^^^ Harvey the world believed in the stagnation of the blood ,

£5{f/i.y5 and the diurnal immoveability of the earth 5 and for denying these

aT5.e. v*-^ *he one was persecuted and the other ridiculed.

''' The intelligence and the virtue of Socrates were punished with

{fi'-ori'^-t^^^^^' Anaxagoras, when he attempted to propagate a just notion
,.'/^ of the Supreme Being, was dragged to prison. Aristotle, after a
long series of persecution , swallowed poison. Heraclitus , tormented
by his countrymen , broke off all intercourse with men. The great
geometricians and chymists , as Gerbert , Roger Bacon , and Cor-
nelius Agrippa, were abhorred as magicians. Pope Gerbert, as Bi-
shop Olho gravely relates , obtained the pontificate by having given
himself up entirely to the devil : others suspected him too of holding
an intercourse with demons ; but this was indeed a devilish age I

Virgilius, Bishop of Saltzburg , having asserted that there existed
antipodes , the archbishop of Mentz declared him a heretic , and con-
signed him to the flames ; and the Abbot Trithemius , who was fond
of improving stcganography, or the art of secret writing, having
published several curious works on this subject, they were condemn-
ed, as works full of diabolical mysteries 5 and Frederick IL , Elec-
tor Palatine , ordered Trithcmius's original work, which was in his
library, to be publicly burnt.

Galileo was condemned at Rome publicly to disavow sentiments ,
the truth of which must have been to him abundantly manifest. "Are
these then my judges?" he exclaimed in retiring from the inquisi-
tors, whose ignorance astonished him. He was imprisoned, and
visited by Milton , who tells us , he was then poor and old. Tlie
confessor of his widow, taking advantage of her piety, perused the
MSS. of this great philosopher, and destroyed such as in his Judg-
ment were not fit to be known to the world !

r-J

0

^,^. l^rtr^^ THE PERSECUTED LEARTNED. 23

Gabriel Naude , in his apology for those great men who have
been accused of magic , has recorded a melancholy nui!»ber of tlie
most eminent scholars , who have found , that to have been success-
ful in their studies was a success which harrassed them with con-
tinual persecution a prison or a grave I

Cornelius Agrippa was compelled to lly his country, and the
enjoyment of a large income , merely for having displayed a few
philosophical experiments , which now every school-boy can per-
form ; but more particularly having attacked the then prevailing
opinion , that St. Anne had three husbands , he was obliged to
fly from place to place. The people beheld him as an object of horror;
and when he walked, he found the streets empty at his approach.
He died in an hospital.

In those times , it was a common opinion to suspect every great
man of an intercourse with some familiar spirit. The favourite black
dog of Agrippa w as supposed to be a demon. When Urban Grandier,
another victim to the age , was led to the stake , a large fly settled on
his head : a monk , w ho had heard that Beelzebub signities in Hebre\\
the God of Flies , reported that he saw this spirit come to take pos-
session of him. IMr. De Langear, a French minister, who employed
many spies , was frequently accused of diabolical communication.
Sixlus the Fifth, Marechal Fabert, Roger Bacon, Caesar Borgia, his son
Alexander VI. , and others, like Socrates, had their diaboHcal attendant.

Cardan was believed to be a magician. An able naturalist, who hap-
pened to know something of the arcana of nature , was immediately
suspected of magic. Even the learned themselves, who had not applied
to natural philosophy, seem to have acted with the same feelings as the
most ignorant ^ for when Albert , usually called the Great , an epithet
he owed to his name De Groot , constructed a curious piece of mecha-
nism , which sent forth distinct vocal sounds, Thomas Aquinas was so
much terrified at it, that he struck it with his staff, and , to the mor-
tification of Albert , annihilated the curious labour of thirty years !

Petrarch was less desirous of the laurel for the honour, than for
the hope of being sheltered by it from the thunder of the priests ,
by whom both he and his brother poets were continually threat-
ened. They could not imagine a poet , without supposing him to
hold an intercourse w ith some demon. This was , as Abbe Resnel
observes , having a most exalted idea of poetry, though a very bad
one of poets. An anti-poetic Dominican was notorious for persecu-
ting all versemakers ; whose power he attributed to the effects of
heresy and magic. The fights of philosophy have dispersed all these
accusations of magic , and have shown a dreadful chain of perjuries
and conspiracies.

Descartes was horribly persecuted in Holland , when he first pub-

24 THE PERSECUTED LEARNED.

lished his opinions. Voetius, a bigot of great influence at Utrecht ,
accused him of atheism, and had even projected in his mind to have
this philosopher burnt at Utrecht in an extraordinary fire, which,
kindled on an eminence, might be observed by the seven pro-
vinces. Mr. Hallam has observed , that " the ordeal of fire was the
great purifier of books and men." This persecution of science and
genius lasted till the close of the seventeenth century.

" If the metaphysician stood a chance of being burnt* as a heretic,
the natural philosopher was not in less jeopardy as a magician ," is
an observation of the same writer, which sums up the whole.

POVERTY OF THE LEARNED.

FoRTUiNE has rarely condescended to be the companion of genius :
others find a hundred by-roads to her palace •, there is but one
open , and that a very indifferent one , for men of letters. Were
we to erect an asylum for venerable genius , as we do for the brave
and the helpless part of our citizens , it might be inscribed , A Hos-
pital for Incurables I When even Fame will not protect the man of
genius from Famine, Charity ought. Nor should such an act be
considered as a debt incurred by the helpless member, but a just
tribute we pay in his person to Genius itself. Even in these enlight-
ened times , many have lived in obscurity, while their reputation
was widely spread •, and have perished in poverty, while their works
were enriching the booksellers.

Of the heroes of modern literature the accounts are as copious as
they are sorrowful.

Xylandcr sold his notes on Dion Cassius for a dinner. He tells
us, that at the age of eighteen he studied to acquire glory, but at
twenty-five he studied to get bread.

Cervantes , the immortal genius of Spain , is supposed to have
wanted food; Camoens, the solitary pride of Portugal, deprived of
the necessaries of life , perished in a hospital at Lisbon. This fact
has been accidentally preserved in an entry in a copy of the first
edition of the Lusiad , in the possession of lord Holland. It is a note,
written by a friar, who must have been a witness of the dying scene
of the poet , and probably received the volume which now preserves
the sad memorial, and which recalled it to his mind, from the
hands of the unhappy poet. — "What a lamentable thing to see so
j^reat a genius so ill rewarded I I saw him die in an hospital in
Lisbon , w illiout havinji; a sheet or shroud , una saiinnn , to cover
him, aHer having Iriunsphed in the East Indies, and sailed 5500
leagues! What good advice for those who weary themselves night
and day in study without profit I " Camocns, when some fidalgo com-

POVERTY OF THE LEAR]\ED. 25

plained that he had not performed his promise in writing some
verses for him, replied, " When I wrote verses I was young, had
sufficient food, was a lover, and beloved by many friends and by
the ladies •, then I felt poetical ardour : now I have no spirits , no
peace of mind. See there my Javanese , who asks me for two pieces
to purchase firing, and I have them not to give him." The Portu-
guese , after his death , beslowed on the man of genius they had
starved, the appellation of Great I Vondel, the Dutch Shakespeare,
after composing a number of popular tragedies , lived in great po-
verty, and died at ninety years of age 5 then he had his coffin carried
by fourteen poets, who without his genius probably partook of his
wretchedness.

The great Tasso was reduced to such a dilemma, that he was obli-
ged to borrow a crow n for a week's subsistence. He alludes to his
distress w hen entreating his cat to assist him, during the night , w ith
the lustre of her eyes — " Non avendo candele per iscrivere isuoi
versi! " having no candle to see to w rile his verses !

When the liberality of Alphonso enabled Ariosto to build a small
house, it seems that it was but ill furnished. When told that such a
building was not fit for one w ho had raised so many fine palaces in
his writings , he answered, that the structure of words and that of
stones was not the same thing. '• Che pojvi le pietre , e porvi le
parole, non e il me des 17710.' '' At Ferrara this house is still shown.
" Parva sed apta ' he calls it, but exults that it was paid for wiih his
own money. This was in a moment of good-humour, which he did
not alw ays enjoy; for in his Satires he bitterly complains of the bond-
age of dependence and poverty. Little thought the poet that the co7n-
mfine would order this small house to be purchased with their own
funds, that it might be dedicated to his immortal memory I

Cardinal Bentivoglio, the ornament of Italy and of literature , lan-
guished, in his old age, in the most distressful poverty 5 and having
sold his palace to satisfy his creditors, left nothing behind him but his
reputation. The learned Pomponius Lretus lived in such a stale of
poverty, that his friend Plalina, who wrote the lives of the popes, and
also a book of cookery, introduces him into the cookery book by a
facetious observation, that ^ If Pomponius La3tus should be robbed of
a couple of eggs, he would not have wherewithal to purchase two
other eggs." Tlie history of Aldovrandus is noble and pathetic 5 having
expended a large fortune in forming his collections of natural history,
and employing the first artists in Europe , he was suffered to die in
the hospital of that city, to whose fame he had eminently contributed.

Du Ryer, a celebrated French poet, was constrained to labour with
rapidity, and to live in the cottage of an obscure village. His book-
seller bought his heroic verses for one hundred sols the hundred

26 POVERTY OF THE LEARNED.

lines , and Ihe smaller ones for fifty sols. What an interesting picture
has a contemporary given of a visit to this poor and ingenious au-
thor ! " On a fine summer day we went to him, at some distance from
town. He received us with joy, talked to us of his numerous projects,
and showed us several of his works. But what more interested us was,
that though dreading to expose to us his poverty, he contrived to
offer some refreshments. We seated ourselves under a wide oak, tlie
tablecloth was spread on the grass, his wife brought us some milk ,
with fresh water and brown bread, and he picked a basket of cherries.
He welcomed us with gaiety, but we could not take leave of this
amiable man, now grown old, without tears, to see him so ill treated
by fortune, and to have nothing left but literary honour ! "

Vaugelas , the most polished writer of the French language , who
devoted thirty years to his translation of Quintus Curtius, (a circum-
stance which modern translators can have no conception of) , died
possessed of nothing valuable but his precious manuscripts. This
ingenious scholar left his corpse to the surgeons , for the benefit of
his creditors !

Louis the Fourteenth honoured Racine and Boileau with a private
monthly audience. One day, the king asked what there was new in
the literary world? Racine answered, that he had seen a melanclioly
spectacle in the house of Corneille, whom he found dying , deprived
even of a little broth I The king preserved a profound silence ; and
sent the dying poet a sum of money.

Dryden , for less than three hundred pounds, sold Tonson ten
thousand verses, as may be seen by the agreement.

Purchas , who , in the reign of our first James , had spent his life
in travels to form his Relation of the JVorld, when he gave it lo^hc^
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 Charles
the First in his dedication, his father read every night with great
profit and satisfaction.

The Marquis of Worcester, in a petition to parliament, in the reign
ofCharles II. , offered to publish (he hundred processes and machines,
enumerated in his very curious "• Centenary of Inventions ," on con-
dition that money should be granted to extricate him from the </////-
culties in which he had invoked himself' , by the prosecution of
useful discoveries. The petition does not appear to have been attend-
ed to! Many of these admirable inventions were lost. The steam
engine and the telegraph may be traced among them.

It appears by the Harleian MSS. 7524 , that Rushworlh, the au-
thor of " Historical Collections," passed the last years of his life in
gaol, where indeed he died. After the ResloralLon, when he present-
ed to the king several of the privy counciKs books , which he had

POVERTY OF THE LEARNED. 27

preserved from ruin , he received for his only reward Ihc thanks of
his majesty.

Rymer, the collector of the Focdera , must have been sadly redu-
ced, by the following letter, I found adressed by Peter le Neve,.
Norroy, to the Earl of Oxford.

" I am desired by Mr. Rymer, historiographer, to lay before your
lordship the circumstances of his affairs. He was forced some years
back to part with all his choice printed books to subsist himself ^ and
now , he says , he must be forced , for subsistence , to sell all his MS.
collections to tlie best bidder, without your lordship will be pleased to
buy them for the queen's library. They are fifty volumes , in folio , of
public affairs, which he hath collected, but not printed. The price
he asks is five hundred pounds."

Simon Ockley, a learned student in Oriental literature , addresses a
letter to the same earl , in which he paints his distresses in glowing
colours. After having devoted his life to Asiatic researches , then very
uncommon, he had the mortification of dating his preface to his great
work from Cambridge Castle, where he was confined for debt •, and ,
with an air of triumph , feels a martyr's enthusiasm in the cause for
which he perishes.

He published his first volume of the History of the Saracens , in
1708 •, and , ardently pursuing his oriental studies , pubhshed his se-
cond volume ten years afterwards without any patronage. Alluding
to the encouragement necessary to bestow on youth , to remove the
obstacles to such studies , he observes , that '•'■ young men wiU hardly
come in on the prospect of finding leisure , in a prison, to transcribe
those papers for the press , which they have collected with indefati-
gable labour, and oftentimes at the expense of their rest , and all the
other conveniences of life , for the services of the public. No , though
I were to assure them from my own experience, Wmllhave enjoyed
viore true liberty , more happy leisure, and more solid re pose y
in six months here , than in thrice the same number of years be-
fore. Euil is the condition oj that historian who undertakes to
write the lii^es of' others , before he hiows how to live himself.
— Not that I speak thus as if I thought I had any just cause to be an-
gry with the world — I did always in my judgment give the posses-
sion ai wisdom the preference to that of riches ! "

Spenser , the child of Fancy, languished out his life in misery.
"Lord Burleigh ," says Granger, "'•who it is said prevented the queen
giving him a hundred pounds, seems to have thought the lowest clerk
in his office a more deserving person." Mr. Malonc attempts to show
that Spenser had a small pension ^ but the poet's querulous verses^
must not be forgotten —

28 POVERTY OF THE LEARNED.

" Full little knowcst thou , that liast not try'd
" What Hell it is , in suing loug to bide."

To lose good days — to waste long nights — and as he feelingly
exclaims ,

" To fawn, to crouch , to wait, to ride, to run,
" To speed, to give, to want , to he undone! ".

How affecting is the dealli of Sydenham , who had devoted his
life to a laborious version of Plato ! He died in a spunging-house,
and it was his death which ap}3ears to have given rise to the Li'tcrary
Fund " for the relief of distressed authors."

Who will pursue important labours when they read these anec-
dotes? Dr. Edmund Gastell spent a great part of his life in compiling
his Lexicon Heptaglotton , on wliich he bestowed incredible
pains, and expended on it no less than 12,000/. broke his constitu-
tion , and exhausted his fortune. At length it was printed , but the
copies remained unsold on his hands. He exhibits a curious picture
of hterary labour in his preface. "• As for myself, I have been un-
ceasingly occupied for such a number of years in this mass ," Mo~
lendino he calls them, " that that day seemed, as it were, a holi-
day in which I have not laboured so much as sixteen or eighteen
hours in these enlarging lexicons and Polyglot Bibles."

Le Sage resided in a little cottage while he supplied the world with
their most agreeable novels , and appears to have derived the sour-
ces of his existence in his old age from the filial exertions of an ex-
cellent son , who was an actor of some genius. I wish , however, that
every man of letters could apply to himself the epitaph of this de-
lightful writer : —

Sous ce tomheau git Le Sage abattu
Par le ciscau de la Parque importune 5
S'il no fut pas ami de la fortune ,
II fut toujours ami do la vertu.

Many years after this article had been written , I published " Ca-
lamities of Authors ," confining myself to those of our own country :;
the catalogue is veiy incomplete, but far too numerous.

IMPKISONMENT OF THE LEARNED.

TMi>iusoN3iKNT has not always dislurfx'd the man of letters in
tin; progress of his studies, but has unquestionably greatly promo-
ted lliem.

In prison Boelhius composed his work on the Consolations of Phi-
Josopliy , and Grolius wrote his Cummenlai y on SainI iVlatlhcvv, with

lIMPftlSOIMMENT OF THE LEARNED. 2»

Other works : the detail of his allotment of time to diffcrenl studies ,
during his confinement , is very instructive.

Buchanan , in the dungeon of a monastery in Portugal , composed
tiis excellent Paraphrases of the Psalms of David.

Cervantes composed the most agreeable book in the Spanish lan-
guage during his captivity in Earbary.

Fleta , a well-known law production , was written by a person
confined in the Fleet for debt; the name of the place , though not
that of the author , has thus been preserved ; and another work ,
' ' Flela Minor, or the Laws of Art and Nature in knowing the bodies
of Metals, etc. by Sir John Peltus, 1683 •," who gave it this title
from the circumstance of his having translated it from the German
during his confinement in this prison.

Louis the Twelfth , when Duke of Orleans , was long imprisoned
in the Tower of Bourges : applying himself to his studies, which
he had hitherto neglected , he became, in consequence , an enlight-
end monarch.

Margaret , queen of Henry the Fourth , King of France , confined
in the Louvre , pursued very warmly the studies of elegant litera-
ture , and composed a very skilful apology for the irregularities of
her conduct.

Sir Waller Raleigh's unfinished History of the World , which
leaves us to regret that later ages had not been celebrated by his
eloquence, was the fruits of eleven years of imprisonment. It was
written for the use of Prince "Henry, as he and Dallington , who
also wrote "Aphorisms" for the same prince, have told us; the
prince looked over the manuscript. Of Raleigh it is observed, to
employ the language of Hume , " They were struck with the exten-
sive genius of the man , who , being educated amidst naval and
military enterprises , had surpassed , in the pursuits of literature,
even those of the most recluse and sedentary lives ; and they ad-
mired 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." He was, however,
assisted in this great work by the learning of several eminent per-
sons ; a circumstance which has not been noticed.

The plan of the Henriade was sketched , and the greater part
composed, by Yoltaire, during his imprisonment in the Bastile;
and " the Pilgrim's Progress " of Bunyan was produced in a si-
milar situation.

Howel, the author of "Familiar Letters, wrote the chief part
of them, and almost all his other works, during his long confine-
ment in the Fleet prison : he employed his fertile pen for subsis-
tence-, and in all his books we find much entertainment.

30 IMPRISONMENT OF THE LEARNED.

Lydiat , while confined in the King's Bench for debt , wrote his
Annotations on the Parian Chronicle, which were first published by
Prideaux. He was the learned scholar alluded to by Johnson ^ an al-
lusion not known to Boswell and others.

The learned Selden , committed to prison for his attacks on the
divine right of tithes and the king's prerogative , prepared during
his confinement his " History of Eadmer ," enriched by his notes.

Cardinal Polignac formed the design of refuting the arguments
of the sceptics which Bayle had been renewing in his dictionary ^
but his public occupations hindered him. Two exiles at length
fortunately gave him the leisure^ and the Anti-Lucretius is the
fruit of the court disgraces of its author.

Freret, when imprisoned in the Bastille, was permitted only
to have Bayle for his companion. His dictionary was always be-
fore him , and his principles were got by heart. To this circum-
stance we owe his works , animated by all the powers of scep-
ticism.

Sir William Davenant finished his poem of Gondibert during
his confinement by the rebels in Carisbroke Castle. George Wi-
ther dedicates his "Shepherd's Hunting," " To his friends, my
visitants in the Marshalsea : " these " eclogues" having been print-
ed in his imprisonment. " The Pilgrim's progress" of Bunyan,
was performed in prison.

De Foe , confined in Newgate for a political pamphlet , began
his "Review," a periodical paper, which was extended to nine
thick volumes in quarto , and it has been supposed served as the
model of the celebrated papers of Steele.

Wicquefort's curious work on ' ' Ambassadors " is dated from
his prison , where he had been confined for state affairs. He soften-
ed the rigour of those heavy hours by several historical works.

One of the most interesting facts of this kind is the fate of an
Itahan scholar, of the name of Maggi. Early addicted to the study
of the sciences , and particularly to the mathematics , and mili-
tary architecture , he successfully defended Famagusta , besieged by
the Turks , by inventing machines which destroyed their works.
When that city was taken in 1571 , they pillaged his library and
carried him away in chains. Now a slave , after his daily labours
he amused a great part of his nights by literary compositions •,
De TintinnabuUs , on Bells , a treatise still read by the curious ,
was actually composed by him when a slave in Turkey, without
any other resource than the erudition of his own memory, and
the genius of which adversity could not deprive him.

AMUSEMENTS OF THE LEARTNED. 31

AMUSEMENTS OF THE LEARNED.

X Among the Jesuits it was a standing rule of the order, thai
after an application to study for two hours , the mind of the student
should be unbent by some relaxation, however trifling. When Pe-
lavius was employed in his Dogmata Theologica , a work of the
most profound and extensive erudition , the great recreation of the
learned father was at the end of every second hour, to twirl his
chair for five minutes. After protracted studies Spinosa would mix
with the family-party where he lodged , and join in the most trivial
conversations , or unbend his mind by setting spiders to fight
each other ; he observed their combats with so much interest , that
he was often seized with immoderate fits of laughter. A continuity
of labour deadens the soul, observes Seneca, in closing his treatise
on " The Tranquillity of the Soul," and the mind must unbend
itself by certain amusements. Socrates did not blush to play with
children ^ Cato , over his bottle , found an alleviation from the fa-
tigues of government j a circumstance , Seneca says in his man-
ner, which rather gives honour to this defect , than the defect disho-
nours Cato. Some men of letters portioned out their day between
repose and labour. Asinius PoUio would not suffer any business to
occupy him beyond a stated hour-, after that time he would not al-
low any letter to be opened , that his hours of recreation might not
be interrupted by unforeseen labours. In the senate , after the tenth
hour, it was not allowed to make any new motion.

Tycho Brahe diverted himself with polishing glasses for all kinds
of spectacles , and making mathematical instruments ; an employ-
ment too closely connected with his studies to be deemed an amuse-
ment.

D'Andilly, the translator of Josephus , after seven or eight hours
of study every day, amused himself in cultivating trees ; Barclay,
the author of the Argcnis , in his leisure hours was a florist ^ Balzac
amused himself with a collection of crayon portraits ^ Peiresc found
his amusement amongst his medals and antiquarian curiosities ; the
Abbe de Marolles with his prints 5 and Politian in singing airs to his
lute. Descartes passed his afternoons in the conversation of a few
friends, and in cultivating a Ultle garden; in the morning, occu-
pied by the system of the world , he relaxed his profound specula-
lions by rearing delicate flowers.

Conrad ab Uffenbach , a learned German , recreated his mind ,
after severe studies , with a collection of prints of eminent persons ,
methodically arranged 5 he retained this ardour of the Gjcingerite
to his last days.

32 AMUSEMENTS OF THE LEARNED.

Rohaull wandered from shop to shop lo observe the mechanics
labour ^ Count Caylus passed his mornings in the studios of artists ,
and his evenings in writing his numerous works on art. This was the
true life of an amateur.

Granville Sharp , amidst the severity of his studies , found a social
relaxation in the amusement of a barge on the Thames , which was
well known to the circle of his friends; there, was festive hospitality
with musical delight. It was resorted to by men of the most eminent
talents and rank. His little voyages to Putney, to Kew, and to Rich-
mond, and thelilerary intercourse they produced, were singularly
happy ones. " The history of his amusements cannot be told without
adding to the dignity of his character, " obser#s Mr. Prince Hoarc,
in the very curious life of this great philanthropist.

Some have found amusement in composing treatises on odd sub-
jects. Seneca wrote a burlesque narrative of Claudian's death. Pierius
Valerianus has w ritten an culogium on beards 5 and we have had a
learned one recently, with due gravity and pleasantry, entitled
" Eloge dcs Perruques."

Holstein has written an eulogium on the North Wind 5 Hcinsius ,
on " the Ass-, " Menage, " the Transmigration of the Parasitical
Pedant to a Parrot ; " and also the ' ' Petition of the Dictionaries. "

Erasmus composed , to amuse himself when travelling in a post-
chaise, his panegyric on Moria, or Folly 5 which, authorised by
the pun, he dedicated to Sir Thomas More.

Sallcngre , w ho would amuse himself like Erasmus , w rote , in
imitation of his work, a panegyric on Ebriety. He says, that he is
willing to be thought as drunken a man as Erasmus was a foolish
one. Synesius composed a Greek panegyric on Baldness. These
burlesques were brought into great vogue by Erasmus's Morice
Encomiiun.

It seems , Johnson observes in his life of Sir Thomas Browne, to
have been in all ages the pride of art to show how it could exalt the
low and amplify the little. To this ambition perhaps we owe the
Frogs of Homer ; the Gnat and the Bees of Yirgil ; the Butterfly of
Spenser ; the Shadow of Wowerus \, and the Quincunx of Browne.

Cardinal de Richelieu , amongst all his great occupations , found a
recreation in violent exercises 5 and he was once discovered jumping
with his servant, to try who could reach the highest side of a wall.
De Grammont, observing the cardinal to be jealous of his powers,
oITered to jump willi him; and, in the true spirit of a courtier,
having made some clTorts which nearly reached the cardinal's , con-
fessed the cardinal surpassed him. This was jumping like a politi-
cian; and by Ihis means he is said lohave ingratiated Jiimsclf with
llie minislcr.

AMUSEMENTS OF THE LEARNED. 33

The great Samuel Clarke was fond of robust exercise •, and this
profound logician has been found leaping over tables and chairs.
Once perceiving a pedantic fellow, he said, " Now we must desist,
for a fool is coming in ! "

An eminent French lawyer, confined by liis business to a Parisian
life , amused himself with collecting from tlie classics all the pas-
sages which relate to a country life. The collection was published
after his death.

Contemplative men seem to be fond of amusements w hich accord
w ith their habits. The tlioughtful game of chess , and the tran-
quil delight of angling, have been favourite recreations with the
studious. Palcy had himself painted with a rod and hne in his hand ^
a strange characteristic for the author of" Natural Tiieology." Sir
Henry Wotton called angling " idle time not idly spent : " we may
suppose that his meditations and his amusements were carried on at
the same moment.

The amusements of the great d'Aguesseau , chancellor of France,
consisted in an interchange of studies; his relaxations were all the
varieties of literature. "Le changement d'etude est mon seuldelas-
sement, " said this great man ; and " in the age of the passions , his
only passion was study."

Seneca has observed on amusemenls proper for literary men , that,
in regard to robust exercises; it is not decent to see a man of letters
exult in the strength of his arm , or the breadth of his back I Such
amusements diminish the activity of the mind. Too much fatigue
exhausts the animal spirits , as too much food blunts the finer facul-
ties : but elsewhere he allows his philosopher an occasional slight
inebriation ; an amusement which was very prevalent among our
poets formerly, when they exclaimed ,

Fetch me Ben Jonson's scull , and fill't with sack ,
Ricli as the same he drauk, wheu the whole pack
Of jolly sisters pledged , and did agree
It was no siu to be as drunk as he !

Seneca concludes admirably, " whatever be the amusemenls you
choose, return not slowly from those of the body to the mind 5 exer-
cise the latter night and day. The mind is nourished at a cheap rate ;
neither cold nor heat , nor age itself, can interrupt this exercise ; give
therefore all your cares to a possession which ameliorates even in its
old age! "

An ingenious writer has observed , that " a garden just accommo-
dates ilself to the perambulations of a scholar, who Mould perhaps
rather wish his walks abridged than extended." There is a good
characterisli'c account of the mode in which the Literati may take

I. 3

34 AMUSEMF:]NTS OF THE LEARNED.

exercise , in Pope's letters. " I , like a poor squirrel , am conlinually
in motion indeed, but it is but a cage of three foot ; my little excur-
sions arc like those of a shopkeeper, who walks every day a mile or
two before his own door, but minds his business all the while." A
turn or two in a garden will often very happily close a fine period ,
mature an unripened thought , and raise up fresh associations , when-
ever the mind like the body becomes rigid by preserving the same
posture. Buffon often quitted the old tower he studied in, which
was placed in the midst of his garden , for a walk in it; Evelyn loved
"• books and a garden."

PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS.

With the ancients , it was undoubtedly a custom to place the por-
traits of authors before their works. Martial's. 186th epigram of his
fourteenth book is a mere play on words, concerning a little volume
containing the works of Virgil , and which had his portrait prefixed
to it. The volume and the characters must have been very dimi-
nutive.

" Quain brens immensum cepit membrana Maronem!
" Ipsius vuhits prima tabel/a geril."

Martial is not the only writer who takes notice of the ancients pre-
fixing portraits to the works of authors. 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 collectors , possessed libraries
as they did their estates and equipages. " It is melancholy to observe
how the portraits of men of genius, and the works of their divine
intelligence, are used only as the luxury and the ornaments of
walls."

Pliny has nearly the same observation. Lib. xxxv, cap. 2. He
remarks, that the custom was rather modern in his time ; and attri-
butes to Asinius Pollio the honour of having introduced it into Rome.
" In consecrating a library with the portraits of our illustrious
authors, he has formed, if I may so express .myself, a republic of the
intellectual powers of men." To the richness of book-treasures ,
Asinius Pollio had associated a new source of pleasure, in placing
th(! statues of their authors amidst them, inspiring the minds of the
spectators even by their eyes.

A taste for collecting portraits, or busts , was warmly pursued in
the happier periods of Rome ; for the celebrated Atticus, in a work
li(^ published of illustrious Romans, made it more delightful, by or-
namenting it with tli(^ [portraits of lliose great men ; and the learned
Yarro, in his biography of Seven Hundred celebrated Men, by giving

PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS. .15

tho world their true features and their physiognomy in some man-
ner, aliquo modo imaginibus is Pliny's expression , showed that
even their persons should not entirely be annihilated •, they indeexl ,
adds Pliny, form a spectacle which the gods themselves might con-
template ; for if the gods sent those heroes to the earth , it is Varro
who secured their immortality, and has so multiplied and distributed
them in all places , that we may carry them about us , place them
wherever we choose , and fix our eyes on them w ilh perpetual ad-
miration. A spectacle that every day becomes more varied and inte-
resting , as new heroes appear, and as works of this kind are spread
abroad.

But as printing was unknown to the ancients (though stamping
an impression was daily practised , and , in fact , they possessed
the art of printing without being aware of it) , how were these por-
traits of Varro so easily propagated ? If copied with a pen, their cor-
rectness was in some danger, and their diffusion must have been very
confined and slow ; perhaps they were outlines. This passage of
Pliny excites curiosity difficult to satisfy ; I have in vain inquired of
several scholars , particularly of the late Grecian , Dr. Burney.

Amongst the various advantages which attend a collection of the
portraits of illustrious characters , Oldys observes , that they not only
serve as matters of entertainment and curiosity, and preserve the
different modes or habits of the fashions of the lime , but become
of infinite importance , bysettUngour floating ideas upon the true
features of famous persons : they fix the chronological particulars of
their birth , age , death , sometimes with short characters of them, be-
sides the names of painter, designer, and engraver. It is thus a single
print, by the hand of a skilful artist ,'may become a varied banquet. To
this Granger adds , that in a collection of engraved portraits , the
contents of many galleries are reduced into the narrow compass of
a few volumes 5 and the portraits of eminent persons , who distin-
guished themselves for a long succession of ages , may be turned
over in a few hours.

"Another advantage," Granger continues, " attending such an
assemblage is, that the methodical arrangement has a surprising
effect upon the memory. We see the celebrated contemporaries of
every age almost at one view 5 and the mind is insensibly led to
the history of that period. I may add to these , an important cir-
cumstance , which is , the power that such a collection w ill have in
awakening genius. A skilful preceptor will presently perceive the
true bent of the temper of his pupil , by his being struck w ith a
Blake or a Boyle, a Hyde or a Milton."

A circumstance in the life of Cicero confirms this observation. At-
ticus had a gallery adorned with the images or portraits of the great

36 PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS.

men of Rome , under each of which, he had severally describixl their
principal acts and honours , in a few concise verses of his own com-
position. It was by Ihe contcmplalion of two of these portraits (Old
Brutus and a venerable relative in one picture) that Cicero seems
to have incited Brutus , by the example of these his great ancestors ,
to dissolve the tyranny of Ca3sar. General Fairfax made a collection
of engraved portraits of warriors. A story much in favour of por-
trait-collectors is that of the Athenian courtesan, who, in the midst
of a riotous banquet witli her lovers , accidentally casting her eyes
on the portrait of a philosopher that hung opposite to her seat , the
happy character of temperance and virtue struck her with so lively
an image of her own unworthiness , that she instantly quilted the
room , and retreated for ever from the scene of debauchery. The
Orientalists have felt the same charm in their pictured memorials \
for "the imperial Akber," says BIr. Forbes, in his Oriental Me-
moirs, "employed artists to make portraits of all the principal om-
rahs and officers in his court 5" they were bound together in a thick
volume , wherein , as the Aycen Akbery or the Institutes of Akber
expresses it , "The Past arc kept in lively remembrance ^ and the
Present are insured immorliility."

Leonard Aretin , when young and in prison, found a portrait of
Petrarch , on which his eyes were perpetually fixed ; and this sort of
contemplation inflamed the desire of imitating this great man. Buffon
hung the portrait of Newton before his writing-table.

On this subject, Tacitus subUmely expresses himself at the close of
his admired biography of Agricola : " I do not mean to censure the
custom of preserving in brass or marble the shape and stature of emi-
nent men ; but busts and statues , like their originals, are frail and pe-
rishable. The soul is formed of finer elements , its inward form is not
to be expressed by the hand of an artist with unconscious matter; our
manners and our morals may in some degree trace the resemblance.
Al! of Agricola that gained our love and raised our admiration still
subsists , and ever will subsist , preserved in the minds of men , the
register of ages and the records of fame."

What is more agreeable to the curiosity of the mind and the eye
than the portraits of great characters? An old philosopher, whom
Marviile invited to see a collection of landscapes by a celebrated
artist, replied, " landscapes I prefer seeing in the country itself, but
I am fond of contemplating the pictures of illustrious men." This
ofjinion has some truth : l^ord Orford preferr(;d an iislvresting por-
trait to either landscape or historical painting, "A landscape, howe-
ver excellent in its dislrihutions of wood, and water, and buildings,
leavc.'s not one trace in the memory ; historical painting is perpctimlly
jalsc in a variety of ways, in the costume, the grouping, the por-

PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS. ^57

trails, and Is nothing more than faliulous painting ; l)nt a roal por-
trait is trulli ilsclf , and calls up so many collateral ideas as to lill an
intelligent mind more than any other species."

Marville justly reprehends the fastidious feelings of those ingenious
men who have resisted the solicitations of the artist, to sit for their
portraits. In them it is sometimes as much pride as it is vanity in
those who are less dilTicult in this respect. Of Gray, Fielding, and
Akenside , we have no heads for which they sat; a circumstance re-
gretted by their admirers , and by physiognomists.

To an arranged colleciion of Poutr AiTS,jWe owe several interest-
ing works. Granger's justly esteemed volumes originated in such a
collection. Perrault's Eloges of "the illustrious men of the seven-
teenth century ' were drawn up to accompany the engraved portraits
of the most celebrated characters of the age, which a fervent lover of
the fine arts and literature had had engraved as an elegant tribute lo
the fame of those great men. They are confined to his nation, as
granger's to ours. The parent of this race of books may perhaps be
the Eulogiums of Paulus Jovius, which originated in a beautiful
Cabinet, whose situation he has described with all its amenity.

Paulus Jovius had a country house , in an insular situation , of a
most romantic aspect. Built on tiie ruins of the villa of Pliny, in his
time the foundations were still to be traced. When the surrounding
lake was calm, in its lucid bosom were still viewed sculptured mar-
bles, the trunks of columns , and the fragments of those pyramids
which had once adorned the residence of the friend of Trajan. Jovius
was an enthusiast of literary leisure 5 an historian, with the imagi-
nation of a poet ; a christian prelate nourished on the sweet fictions
of pagan mythology. His pen colours like a pencil. He paints raptur-
ously his gardens bathed by the waters of the lake , the shade and
freshness of his woods , his green hills , his sparkling fountains, the
deep silence, and the calm of solitude. He describes a statue raised
in his gardens to Nature; in his hall an Apollo presided with his
lyre , and the Muses with their attributes ; his library w as guarded
by Mercury , and an apartment devoted to the three Graces was
embellished by Doric columns , and paintings of the most pleasing
kind. Such was the interior ! Without, the pure and transparent lake
spread its broad mirror, or rolled its voluminous windings, by
banks richly covered w ith olives and laurels •, and in the distance ,
towns , promontories , hills rising in an amphitheatre blushing w ith
vines , and the elevations of the Alps covered with woods and pastu-
rage and sprinkled with herds and flocks.

In the centre of this enchanting habitation stood the Cabinet,
where Paulus Jovius had collected, at great cost, the PSrtraits of
celebrated men of the fourteenth and two succeeding centuries. The

38 PORTRAITS OF AUTHORS.

daily view of them animated his mind to compose their eulogiums.
These are still curious , both for the facts they preserve , and the
happy conciseness with which Jovius delineates a character. He had
collected these portraits as others form a collection of natural history ;
and he pursued in their characters what others do in their experiments.
One caution in collecting portraits must not be forgotten : it res-
pects their authenticity. We have too many supposititious heads, and
ideal personages. Conrad ab Uffenbach , who seems to have been the
first collector who projected a methodical arrangement , condemned
those spurious portraits which were fit only for the amusements of
children. The painter does not always give a correct likeness , or the
engraver misses it in his copy. Goldsmith was a short thick man,
with wan features and a vulgar appearance, but looks tall and
fashionable in a bag-wig. Bayle's portrait does not resemble him , as
one of his friends writes. Rousseau in his Montero cap , is in the same
predicament. Winkelman's portrait does not preserve the striking
physiognomy of the man , and in the last edition a new one is substi-
tuted. The faithful A^ertue refused to engrave for Houbraken's set,
because they did not authenhcate their originals ; and some of these
are spurious , as that of Ben Jonson , Sir Edward Coke , and others.
Busts are not so liable to these accidents. It is to be regretted that
men of genius have not been careful to transmit their own portraits
to their admirers ; it forms a part of their character ; a false delicacy
has interfered. Erasmus did nothke to have his own diminutive person
sent down to posterity , but Holbein was always affectionately paint-
ing his friend. Montesquieu once sate to Dassier the medallist , after
repeated denials , won over by the ingenious argument of the artist ;
" Do you not think," said Dassier, " that there is as much pride in
refusing my offer as in accepting it? "

DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS.

The literary treasure's of antiquity have suffered from the malice
of Men, as well as that of Time. 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 boohs.

The Persians , from hatred of the religion of the Phoenicians and
the Egyptians , destroyed their books , of which Euscbius notices a
great number. A Grecian library at G nidus was burnt by the sect of
Hippocrates , because the Gnidians refused to follow the doctrines of
their master. If the followers of Hippocrates formed the majority, was
it not very ygnorthodox in the Gnidians to prefer taking physic their
own way ? But Faction lias often annihilated books.

DESTRUCTION Ol- ROOKS- lO

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 other heretics
were continually burnt by the orthodox party. Gibbon pathetically
describes the empty library of Alexandria , after the Christians had
destroyed it. "The valuable library of Alexandria was pillaged or
destroyed ; and near twenty years afterwards the appearance of the
empty shelves excited the regret and indignation of every spectator,
whose mind was not totally darkened by religious prejudice. The
compositions of ancient genius , so many of which have irrelriuvably
perished , might surely have been excepted from the w reck of idola-
try, for the amusement and instruction of succeeding ages •, and
either the zeal or avarice of the archbishop might have been satiated
with the richest spoils which were the rewards of his victory. "

The pathetic narrative of Nicetas Choniates of the ravages com-
mitted by the Christians of the thirteenth century in Constantinople
was fraudulently suppressed in the printed editions. It has been pre-
served by Dr. Clarke, who observes, that the Turks have committed
fewer injuries to the works of art than the barbarous Christians of
that age.

The reading of the Jewish Talmud has been forbidden by various
edicts , of the Emperor Justinian, of many of the French and Spanish
kings, and numbers of Popes. All the copies were ordered to be
burnt : the intrepid perseverance of the Jews themselves preserved
that work from annihilation. In 1569 twelve thousand copies were
thrown into the flames at Cremona. John Reuchlin interfered to slop
this universal destruction of Talmuds ; for which he became hated
by the monks , and condemned by the Elector of Menfz , but appeal-
ing to Rome , the prosecution was stopped ; and the traditions of the
Jews were considered as not necessary to be destroyed.

Conquerors at first destroy with the rashest zeal the national
records of the conquered people ; hence it is that the Irish deplore
the irreparable losses of their most ancient national memorials ,
which their invaders have been too successful in annihilating. The
same event occurred in the conquest of Mexico 5 and the interesting
history of the New World must ever remain imperfect , in conse-
quence of the unfortunate success of the first Missionaries. Clavi-
gero , the most authentic historian of Mexico , continually laments
this affecting loss. Every thing in that country had been painted ,
and painters abounded there , as scribes in Europe. The first mis-
sionaries , suspicious that superstition was mixed with all their
paintings, attacked the chief school of these artists , and collecting ,
in the market-place , a Uttle mountain of these precious records ,

40 DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS.

they set fire to it , and buried in the ashes the memory of many
interesting events. Afterwards , sensible of their error, they tried to
collect information from the mouths of the Indians ; but the Indians
were indignantly silent : when they attempted to collect the remains
of these painted histories , the patriotic Mexican usually buried in
concealment the fragmentary records of his country.

The story of the Caliph Omar proclaiming throughout the kingdom,
at the taking of Alexandria , that the Koran contained every thing
which was useful to believe and to know, and therefore he com-
manded that all the books in the Alexandrian library should be
distributed to the masters of the baths , amounting to 4000 , to be
used in healing their stoves during a period of six months , mo-
dern paradox would attempt to deny. But the tale would not be
singular even were it true : it perfectly suits the character of a
bigot, a barbarian, and a blockhead. A similar event happened in
Persia. When Abdoolah , who in the third century of the IVloham-
medan sera governed Khorassan , was presented at Nishapoor with
a MS. which was shown as a literary curiosity, he asked the title of
it — it was the tale of Wamick and Oozra , composed by the great
poet Noshirwan. On this Abdoolah observed , that those of his
country and faith had nothing to do with any other book than the
Koran ^ and that the composition of an idolater must be detestable I
All Persian MSS. found within the circle of his government were to
be burned. Much of the most ancient poetry of the Persians perished
fiy this fanatical edict.

When Buda w as taked by the Turks , a Cardinal offered a vast
sum to redeem the great library founded by Matthew Corvini , a
literary monarch of Hungary ; it was rich in Greek and Hebrew
lore , and the classics of antiquity. Thirty amanuenses had been en-
ployed in copying MSS. and illuminating them by the finest art.
The Barbarians destroyed most of the books in tearing away their
splendid covers and their silver bosses-, an Hungarian soldier picked
up a book as a prize : it proved to be the l^.thiopics of Heliodorus ,
from which the first edition was printed in IhM.

Cardinal Ximenes seems to have retaliated a little on the Saracens ^
for at the taking of Granada, he condemned to the flames five
thousand Korans.

The follo>\ing anecdote respecting a Spanish missal , called St.
Isidore's, is not incurious ; hard fighting saved it from destruction.
In the Moorish wars, all these missals had been destroyed excepting
those in (he city of Toledo. There in six churches the Christians
were allowed the free exercise of their religion. When the Moors
were e\pell(>d several c(>nturies afterwards from Toledo , Alphonsus
the Sixth ordered the Roman missal to be used in those churches ^

DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS. 41

but the people of Toledo insisted on ha\ ins their own , as revised
by St. Isidore. It seemed to them that Alplionsus was more [yran-
nical than the Turks. The contest between the Roman and the
Toletan missals came to that height , that at length it was determi-
ned to decide their fate by single combat ^ the champion of the
Toletan missal felled by one blow the knight of the Roman missal.
Alphonsus still considered tliis battle as merely the effect of the
heavy arm of the doughty Toletan , and ordered a fast to be pro-
claimed , and a great fire to be prepared , into which , after his
majesty and the people had joined in prayer for heavenly assistance
in this ordeal , both the rivals (not the men , but the missals) , were
thrown into the flames — again St. Isidore's missal triumphed , and
this iron book w as then allowed to be orthodox by Alphonsus , and
the good people of Toledo were allowed to say their prayers as they
had long been used to do. However, the copies of this missal at
length became very scarce^ for now, when no one opposed the reading
of St. Isidore's missal , none cared to use it. Cardinal Ximenes
found it so difficult to obtain a copy that he printed a large impres-
sion , and built a chapel , consecrated to St. Isidore, that this service
might be daily chanted as it had been by the ancient Christians.

The works of the ancients were frequently destroyed at the insti-
gation of the monks. They appear sometimes to have mutilated
them, for passages have not come down to us, which once evidently
existed 5 and occasionally their interpolations and other forgeries
formed a destruction in a new shape , by additions to the originals.
They were indefatigable in erasing the best works of the most emi-
nent Greek and Latin authors, in order to transcribe their ridiculous
lives of saints on the obliterated vellum. One of the books of Livy is
in the Vatican most painfully defaced by some pious father for the
purpose of writing on it some missal or psalter, and there have
been recently others discovered in the same stale. Inflamed with the
blindest zeal against every thing pagan , Pope Gregory YII. ordered
that the library of the Palatine Apollo, a treasury of literature
formed by successive emperors , should be committed to the flames I
He issued this order under the notion of confining the attention of
the clergy to the holy scriptures I From that time all ancient learning
which was not sanctioned by the authority of the .church has been
emphatically distinguished as profane — in opposition to sacred.
This pope is said to have burnt the works of Varro , the learned
Iloman , that Saint Austin should escape from the charge of pla-
giarism , being deeply indebted to Yarro for much of his great work
" the City of God. "

The Jesuits , sent by the Emperor Ferdinand to proscribe Luthe-
ranism from Bohemia , converted that flourishing kingdom compara-

n DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS.

lively into a desert. Convinced that an enlightened people could never
be long subservient to a tyrant , they struck one fatal blow at the
national literature : every book they condemned was destroyed , even
those of antiquity ; the annals of the nation were forbidden to be read,
and writers were not permitted even to compose on subjects of Bo-
hemian literature. The mother-tongue was held out as a mark of
vulgar obscurity, and domiciliary visits were made for the purpose
of inspecting the libraries of the Bohemians. With their books and
their language they lost their national character and their indepen-
dence.

The destruction of libraries in the reign of Henry VIII. at the dis-
solution of the monasteries is wept over by John Bale. Those who
purchased the religious houses took the libraries as part of the booty,
with which they scoured their furniture , or sold the books as waste
paper, or sent them abroad in ship-loads to foreign bookbinders.

The fear of destruction induced many to hide manuscripts under
ground,, and in old walls. At the Reformation popular rage exhausted
itself on illuminated books , or MSS. that had red letters in the title-
page : any work that was decorated was sure to be thrown into the
flames as a superstitious one. Red letters and embellished figures were
sure marks of being papistical and diabolical. We still find such vo-
lumes mutilated of their gilt letters and elegant initials. Many have;
been found underground , having been forgotten ^ what escaped the
flames were obliterated by the damp : such is the deplorable fate of
books during a persecution !

The Puritans burned every thing they found which bore the ves-
tige of popish origin. We have on record many curious accounts of
their pious depredations , of their maiming images and erasing pic-
tures. The heroic expeditions of one Dowsing arc journalised by him-
self : a fanatical Quixote, to whose intrepid arm many of our noseless
saints , sculptured on our cathedrals, owe their misfortunes.

The following are some details from the diary of this redoubtable
Goth , during his rage for reformation. His entries arc expressed
with a laconic conciseness , and it would seem with a little dry hu-
mour. " At Sunbiu-y, we brake down ten mighty great angels in
glass. At BarJiam , brake down the twelve apostles in the chancel ,
and six superstitious pictures more there •, and eight in the church ,
one a lamb with a cross ( + ) on the back 5 and digged down the steps
and took up four superstitious inscriptions in brass," etc. '■'■ I.ady
r>niceshous(i , the chapel , a picture of God the Father, of the Tri-
nity, of Christ, the Holy Ghost , and the cloven tongues, which we
gave orders to take down , and the lady promised to do it." At ano-
ther place they " brake six hundred superstitious pictures , eight
Holy Ghosts , and three of the Son." And in this manner he and his

DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS. U

deputies scoured one hundred and fifty parishes! It has been humo-
rously conjectured , that from this ruthless devastator originated the
phrase to giue a Dowsing. Bishop Hall saved the windows of his
chapel at Norwich from destruction, by taking out the heads of the
figures ; and this accounts for the many faces in church windows
which we see supplied by white glass.

In the various civil wars in our country, numerous libraries have
suffered both in MSS. and printed books. " I dare maintain ," says
Fuller, " that the wars betwixt York and Lancaster, which lasted
sixty years, were not so destructive as our modern wars in six years."
He alludes to the parliamentary feuds in the reign of Charles I. "For
during the former their differences agreed in the same religion,
impressing them with reverence to all allowed muniments ; whilst
our civil wars , founded injaction and ^variety of pretended reli-
gions , exposed all naked church records a prey to armed violence ;
a sad vacuum , which will be sensible in our English historie.^'

When it was proposed to the great Gustavus of Sweden to destroy
the palace of the Dukes of Bavaria, that hero nobly refused observing,
" Let us not copy the example of our unlettered ancestors , who , by
waging war against every production of genius , have rendered the
name of Goth universally proverbial of the rudest state of bar-
barity."

Even the civilisation of the eighteenth century could not preserve
from the destructive fury of an infuriated mob , in the most polished
city of Europe, the valuable MSS. of the great Earl Mansfield, which
were madly consigned to the flames during the riots of 1780 5 as those
of Dr. Priestley were consumed by the mob at Birmingham.

In the year 1599 , the hall of the stationers underwent as great a
purgation as was carried on in Don Quixote's library. Warton gives a
list .of the best writers who were ordered for immediate conflagration
by the prelates Whitgift and Bancroft , urged by the puritanic and
calvinislic factions. Like thieves and outlaws , they were ordered to
be takeji wheresoes^er they may be found. — " It was also decreed
that no satires or epigrams should be printed for the future. No plays
were to be printed without the inspection and permission of the arch-
bishop of Canterbury and the bishop of London ^ nor any English
historyes, I suppose novels and romances, without the sanction of
the privy council. Any pieces of this nature, unlicensed , or now at
large and wandering abroad , were to be diligently sought, recalled ,
and delivered over to the ecclesiastical arm at London-house.

At a later period, and by an opposite party, among other extrava-
gant motions made in the parliament , one was to destroy all the re-
cords made in the Tower, and to settle the nation on a new founda-
tion. The very same principle was attempted to be acted on in the

44 DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS.

French revolulion by the true " sans-culoUes." With us Sir IMallhew
Hale show ed the weakness of the proposal , and while he drew on his
side " all sober persons, stopped even the mouths of the frantic
people themselves."

To descend to the losses incurred by individuals , whose names
ought to have served as an amulet to charm away the demons of li-
terary destruction. One of the most interesting is the fate of Aristotle's
library 5 he who by a Greek term was first saluted as a collector of
books ! His works have come down to us accidentally, but not without
irreparable injuries, and with no slight suspicion respecting their au-
thenticity. The story is told by Strabo, in his thirteenth book. The
books of Aristotle came from his scholar Theophrastus to Neleus ,
whose posterity, an illiterate race, kept them locked up without
using them, buried in the earth! Apcllion, a curious collector, pur-
chased them , but finding the MSS. injured by age and moisture ,
conjccturally supplied their deficiencies. It is impossible to know
how far Apellion has corrupted and obscured the text. But the mis-
chief did not end here ; when Sylla at the taking of Athens brought
them to Rome , he consigned them to the care of Tyrannio, a gram-
marian , who employed scribes to copy them •, he suffered them to
pass through his hands w ithout correction , and took great freedoms
with them ; the words of Strabo arc strong : " Ibique Tyrannionem
grammaticum iis usum atque (ut fama est) i/itercidisse, aut inver-
tisse.'" He gives it indeed as a report-, but the fact seems confirmed
by the state in which we find these works : Avcrroes declared that he
read Aristotle forty times over before he succeeded in perfectly un-
derstanding him •, he pretends he did at the one and fortieth time !
And to prove this has published five folios of commentary.

We have lost much valuable literature by the illiterate or malignant
descendants of learned and ingenious persons. Many of Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu's letters have been destroyed , I am informed , by
her mother, who did not approve that she should disgrace her family
by adding to it literary honours ; and a few of her best letters , re-
cently published , were found buried in an old family chest. It
would have mortified her ladyship's moUier, to have heard that her
daughter was the Sevigne of Ihitain.

At the death of the learned Peiresc , a chamber in his house filled
with letters from the most eminent scholars of the age was discover-
ed : the learned in Europe had addressed Peiresc in their dilTicul-
lies , who was hence called (he " Avocat general " of Die republic of
letters. Such was the disposition of his niece , that allhougli re[)eat-
cdly entreated to permit th(!m to be published , she preferred to re-
gale herself occasionally with burning these learned epistles to save
the expense of lire-wood I

DESTRUCTION OF DOORS. 45

The MSS. of Leonardo da Vinci have equally suftcred from his re-
latives. ^Vhen a curious collector discovered some , he generously
brought them to a descendant of the great painter, who coldly obser-
ved , that "' he had a great deal more in the garret, which had lain
there for many years , if the rats had not destroyed them I " Nothing
which this great artist w rote but showed an inventive genius.

Menages observes on a friend having had his library destroyed
by fire , in w hich several valuable MSS. had perished , that such
a loss is one of the greatest misfortunes that can happen to a
man of letters. This gentleman afterwards consoled himself by
composing a little treatise De Bihliothecce incendio. It must have
been sulficiently curious. Even in the present day men of letters
are subject to similar misfortunes ; for though the fire-olTices will
insure books, they will not allow authors to value tlieir own
manuscripts.

A fire in the Cottonian library shrivelled and destroyed many An-
glo-Saxon IMSS. — a loss now irreparable. The antiquary is doomed
to spell hard and hardly at the baked fragments that crumble in his
hand.

Meninsky's famous Persian dictionary met with a sad fate. Its
excessive rarity is ow ing to the siege of Vienna by the Turks ; a
bomb fell on the author's house , and consumed the principal part
of his indefatigable labours. There are few sets of this high-priced
work which do not bear evident proofs of the bomb ; while many
parts are stained with the water sent to quench the flames.

The sufferings of an author for the loss of his manuscripts strongly
appear in the case of Anthony Urceus , a great scholar of the fif-
teenth century. The loss of his papers seems immediately to have
been follow ed by madness. At Forli , he had an apartment in the pa-
lace, and had prepared an important work for publication. His
room was dark , and he generally w rote by lamp light. Having gone
out , he left the lamp burning ; the papers soon kindled , and his
library was reduced to ashes. As soon as he heard the news, he ran
furiously to the palace, and knocking his head violently against the
gate, uttered this blasphemous language : "Jesus Christ, what great
crime have I done I who of those who believed in you have I ever
treated so cruelly? Hear what I am saying, for I am in earnest,
and am resolved. If by chance I should be so weak as to address
myself to you at the point of death , dont hear me , for I w ill not be
with you, but prefer hell and its eternity of torments." To which,
by the by, he gave little credit. Those who heard these ravings,
vainly tried to console him. He quilled the town , and lived fran-
licly, wandering about the w oods !

Ben Jonson's Execration on Vulcan was composed on a like

46 DESTRUCTION OF BOORS.

occasion ; the fruits of twenty years' study were consumed in one
short hour •, our literature suffered , for among some works of ima-
gination there were many philosophical collections , a commentary
on the poetics, a complete critical grammar, a hfe of Henry V. , his
journey into Scotland with all his adventures in that poetical pilgrim-
age , and a poem on the ladies of Great Britain. What a catalogue
of losses !

Castelvetro , the Italian commentator on Aristotle , having heard
that his house was on fire , ran through the streets exclaiming to the
people, alia Poetical alia Poetical To the Poetic! to the
Poetic/ He was then writing his commentary on the poetic of
Aristotle.

Several men of letters have been known to have risen from their
death-bed , to destroy their MSS. So solicitous have they been not to
venture their posthumous reputation in the hands of undiscerning
friends. Colardeau , the elegant versifier of Pope's epistle of Eloisa to
Abelard , had not yet destroyed what he had written of a transla-
tion of Tasso. At the approach of death , he recollected his unfi-
nished labour ^ he knew that his friends would not have the cou-
rage to annihilate one of his works ^ this was reserved for him.
Dying, he raised himself, and as if animated by an honourable
action , he dragged himself along , and with trembling hands sei-
zed his papers , and consumed tham in one sacrifice. — I recollect
another instance of a man of letters , of our own country, who act-
ed the same part. He had passed his life in constant study, and
it was observed that he had written several folio volumes , which
his modest fears would not permit him to expose to the eye even of
his critical friends. He promised to leave his labours to posterity ;
and he seemed sometimes , with a glow on his countenance, to exult
that they would not be unworthy of their acceptance. At his death
his sensibility took the alarm ^ he had the folios brought to his
bed 5 no one could open them , for they were closely locked. At
the sight of his favourite and mysterious labours , he paused ; he
seemed disturbed in his mind , while he felt at every moment his
strength decaying ; suddenly he raised his feeble hands by an effort
of firm resolve , burnt his papers , and smiled as the greedy Vulcan
licked up every page. The task exhausted his remaining strength,
and he soon afterwards expired. The late Mrs. Inchbald had writ-
ten her life in several volumes ^ on her death-bed, from a motive
perhaps of loo much delicacy to admit of any argument, she re-
quested a friend to cut them into [)ieces before her eyes — not ha-
ving sufficient strength herself to perform this funereal ofiice. These
arc instan(-es of what may be called the heroism of authors.

The republic of letters has sulfered irre[)arable losses by ship-

SOME NOTICES OF LOST WORKS. 47

wrecks. Guarino Veronese, one of those learned Italians who tra-
velled through Greece for the recovery of IMSS. , had his perseve-
rance repaid by the acquisition of many valuable works. On his
return to Italy he was shipwrecked , and lost his treasures ! So
poignant was his grief on this occasion that , according to the re-
lation of one of his countrymen , his hair became suddenly white.

About the year 1700 , llulde , an opulent burgomaster of Mid-
dleburgh , animated solely by literary curiosity, went to China to
instruct himself in the language , and in w hatever was remarkable
in this singular people. He acquired the skill of a mandarine in
that dilTicult language ; nor did the form of his Dutch face unde-
ceive the physiognomists of China. He succeeded to the dignity of
a mandarine ^ he travelled through the provinces under this cha-
racter, and returned to Europe with a collection of observations ,
the cherished labour of thirty years ; and all these were sunk in the
bottomless sea !

The great Pinellian library, after the death of its illustrious pos-
sessor, filled three vessels to be conveyed to Naples. Pursued by
corsairs , one of the vessels was taken •, but the pirates finding no-
thing on board but books , they threw them all into the sea : such
was the fate of a great portion of this famous library. National li-
braries have often perished at sea , from the circumstance of con-
querors transporting them into their own kingdoms.

SOME NOTICES OF LOST WORKS.

Although it is the opinion of some critics that our literary
losses do not amount to the extent which others imagine , they are
however much greater than they allow. Our severest losses are felt
in the historical province , and particularly in the earliest records ,
which might not have been the least interesting to philosophical
curiosity.

The history of Phoenicia by Sanchoniathon , supposed to be a
contemporary with Solomon , now consists of only a few valuable
fragments preserved by Eusebius. The same ill fortune attends Ma-
netho's history of Egypt , and Berosus's history of Chaldea. The
histories of these most ancient nations, however veiled in fables,
would have presented to the philosopher singular objects of con-
templation.

Of the history of Polybius , which once contained forty books .
we have now only five ; of the historical library of Diodorus Siculus
fifteen books only remain out of forty ; and half of the Roman anti-
quities of Dionysius Halicarnassensis has perished. Of the eighty
books of the history of Dion Cassius , twenty-five only remain. The

48 SOME NOTICES OF LOST WORKS.

present opening book of Ammianus Marceliinus is entitled liic
fourteenth. Livy's history consisted of one hundred and forty books ,
and we only possess thirty-five of that pleasing historian. What a
treasure has been lost in the thirty books of Tacitus! little more
than four remain. Murphy elegantly observes, that " the reign of
Titus, the delight of human kind, is totally lost, and Domitian
has escaped the vengeance of the historian's pen." Yet Tacitus in
fragments is still the colossal torso of history. Velleius Paterculus ,
of whom a fragment only has reached us , we owe to a single copy :
no other having ever been discovered , and which has occasioned
the text of this historian to remain incurably corrupt. Taste and
criticism have certainly incurred an irreparable loss in that Trea-
tise on the Causes of the Corruption oj Eloquence , by Quinti-
tilian •, which he has himself noticed with so much satisfaction in
his "Institutes." Petrarch declares, that in his youth he had seen
the works of Varro , and the second Decad of Livy \ but all his
endeavours to recover them were fruitless.

These are only some of the most known losses \ but in reading
contemporary writers we arc perpetually discovering many impor-
tant ones. We have lost two precious works in ancient biography :
Varro wrote the lives of seven hundred illustrious Romans 5 and
Atticus, the friend of Cicero, composed another, on the acts of the
great men among the Romans. When we consider that these writers
lived familiarly with the finest geniuses of their times , and were
opulent, hospitable, and lovers of the fine arts, their biography
and their portraits , which are said to have accompanied them , are
felt as an irreparable loss to literature. I suspect likewise we have
had great losses of which we are not always aware •, for in that
curious letter in which the younger Pliny describes in so in-
teresting a manner the sublime industry, for it seems sublime by
its magnitude , of his Uncle ' , it appears that his Natural History,
that vast register of the wisdom and the credulity of the ancients,
was not lys most extraordinary labour. Among his other works we
find a history in twenty books , which has entirely perished. We
discover also the works of writers , which , by the accounts of them ,
appear to have equalled in genius those \\\m\\ have descended to
us. I refer Ihe curious reader to such a poet whom Pliny has feel-
ingly described '\ lie tells us that "■ his works are never out of my
hands; and whether I sit down to write any thing myself, or to
revise what I have already wrote, or am in a disposition to amuse
myself, T constantly take up this agreeable author; and as often as

' J5nok 111. Letter V. Mclinolh's li.inblaliou.
- r.uok I. LcJIer XVI.

SOME NOTICES OF LOST WORKS. 49

I do SO , he is still new.'' He had before compared this poet to Ca-
tullus; and in a critic of so fine a taste as Pliny, to have cherished
so constant an intercourse wilh the writings of this author, indi-
cates high powers. Instances of this kind frequently occur. Who
does not regret the loss of the Anlicatones of Ctcsar?

The losses which the poetical world has sustained are sufli-
ciently known by those who are conversant wilh the few invaluable
fragments of IMenander, who might have interested us perhaps
more than Homer : for he was evidently the domestic poet , and
the lyre he touched was formed of the strings of the human heart.
He was the painter of manners , and the historian of the passions.
The opinion of Quinlilian is confirmed by the golden fragments
preserved for the English reader in the elegant versions of Cum-
berland. Even of jEschylus , Sophocles , and Euripides , who each
wrote about one hundred dramas , seven only have been preserved,
and nineteen of Euripides. Of the one hundred and thirty comedies
of Plautus , we only inherit twenty imperfect ones. The remainder
of Ovid's Fasti has never been recovered.

I believe that a philosopher would consent to lose any poet to
regain an historian •, nor is this unjust , for some future poet may
arise to supply the vacant place of a lost poet , but it is not so wilh
the historian. Fancy may be supplied ; but Truth once lost in the
annals of mankind leaves a chasm never to be filled.

QUODLIBETS, OR SCHOLASTIC DISQUISITIONS.

The scholastic questions w ere called Questiones Quodliheticoe ;
and they were generally so ridiculous that we have retained the
word Quodlibet in our vernacular style , to express any thing ridi-
culously subtile 5 something which comes at length to be distin-
guished into nothingness,

*' With all the rash dexterity of wit."

The history of the scholastic philosophy might furnish an in-
structive theme •, it would enter into the history of the human
mind , and fill a niche in our literary annals. The works of the
scholastics, with the debates of these Quodlibetavians , at once
show the greatness and the littleness of the human intellect ; for
though they often degenerate into incredible absurdities , those who
have examined the works of Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scolus
have confessed their admiration of the Herculean texture of brain
which they exhausted in demolishing their aerial fabrics.

The folllowing is a slight sketch of the school divinity.

The christian doctrines in the primitive ages of the gospel were

4

so QUODLIBETS,

adapted to the simple comprehension of the multitude ^ metaphy-
sical subtilties were not even employed by the Fathers, of whom
several are eloquent. The Homilies explained by an obvious inter-
pretation , some scriptural point , or inferred , by artless illustra-
tion, some moral doctrine. When the Arabians became the only
learned people , and their empire extended over the greatest part
of the known world , they impressed their own genius on those
nations w ith whom they were allied as friends , or reverenced as
masters. The Arabian genius was fond of abstruse studies •, it was
highly metaphysical and mathematical , for the fine arts their reli-
gion did not admit them to cultivate ; and it appears that the first
knowledge which modern Europe obtained of Euclid and Aristotle
was through the medium of Latin translations of Arabic versions.
The Christians in the west received their first lessons from the
Arabians in the east ^ and Aristotle , with his Arabic commentaries ,
was enthroned in the schools of Christendom.

Then burst into birth from the dark cave of metaphysics a nu-
merous and ugly spawn of monstrous sects ; unnatural children of
the same foul mother, who never met but for mutual destruction.
Rehgion became what is called the study of divinity ; and they all
attempted to reduce the worship of God into a system ! the creed
into a thesis ! Every point relating to religion was debated through
an endless chain of infinite questions , incomprehensible distinc-
tions, with differences mediate and immediate, the concrete and
the abstract , a perpetual civil war carried on against common sense
in all the Aristotelian severity. There existed a rage for Aristotle ;
and Mclancthon complains that in sacred assemblies the ethics of
Aristotle were read to the people instead of the gospel. Aristotle
was placed a-head of St. Paul ; and St. Thomas Aquinas in his works
distinguishes him by the title of " The Philosopher^" inferring
doubtless that no other man could possibly be a philosopher who
disagreed with Aristotle. Of the blind rites paid to Aristotle, the
anecdotes of tlie Nominalists and llealists are noticed in the article
"• Literary controversy " in this work.

Had their subtile questions and perpetual wranglings only been
addressed to the metaphysician in his closet, and had nothing but
strokes of the pen occurred, the scholastic divinity would only have
h)nned an episode in the calm narrative of literary history ; but it
has claims to be njgislered in political annals, from the numerous
persecutions and tragical events with which they too long perplexed
their followers , and disturbed the repose of Europe. TheThomists,
and \\h\ S(;otists, tiu; Occamitcs, and many others, soared into the
regions of inysti(;ism.

Peter Lombard had laboriously compiled after the celebrated

OR SCHOLASTIC DISQUISITIONS. 61

Abclard's '' Introduction to Divinity,"' his four books of '' S<!n-
tenccs ," from tlie writings of the Fathers ] and for this he is called
" The Master of Sentences/' These Sentences, on which we have
so many commentaries , are a collection of passages from the Fathers ,
the real or apparent contradictions of whom he endeavours to re-
concile. But his successors were not satisfied to be mere commen-
tators on these " Sentences," which they now only made use of as a
row of pegs to hang on 'heir fine-spun metaphysical cobwebs. They
at length collected all these quodlibetical questions into enormous
volumes , under the terrifying form , for those who have seen them ,
o{ Summaries of Divinity ! They contrived by their chimerical
speculations, to question the plainest truths 5 to wrest the simple
meaning of the Holy Scriptures , and give some appearance of truth
to the most ridiculous and monstrous opinions.

One of the subtile questions which agitated the world in the tenth
century, relating to dialectics, was concerning wwersals (as for
example , man , horse , dog , etc.) signifying not this or that in par-
ticular, but all in general. They distinguished universals , or what
we call abstract terms , by the genera and species reruui ,• and
they never could decide whether these were substances — or names!
That is , whether the abstract idea we form of a horse w as not really
a being as much as the horse we ride I All this and some congenial
points respecting the origin of our ideas , and what ideas were,
and whether we really had an idea of a thing before we discovered
the thing itself — in a word , what they called universals , and the
essence of universals ; of all this nonsense on which they at length
proceeded to accusations of heresy, and for which many learned
men were excommunicated , stoned , and what not , the whole was
derived from the reveries of Plato , Aristotle , and Zeno , about the
nature of ideas ^ than which subject to the present day no discussion
ever degenerated into such inianity. A modern metaphysician infers
that we have no ideas at all I

Of the scholastic divines , the most illustrious was Saint Thomas
Aquinas , styled the Angelical Doctor. Seventeen folio volumes not
only testify his industry, but even his genius. He was a great man
busied all his life with making the charades of metaphysics.

]VIy learned friend Sharon Turner has favoured me with a notice
of his greatest work — his '•• Sum of all Theology,"' Summa totius
Thcologice , Paris, 1615. It is a metaphysicological treatise, or
the most abstruse metaphysics of theology. It occupies above
1250 folio pages , of very small close print in double columns. It
may be vvorth noticing that to this work are appended 19 folio pages
of double columns of errata, and about 200 of additional index I
The ^^hole is thrown into an Aristotelian formj the diflicullies or

.'32 QUODLIBETS,

questions are proposed first, and the answers are then appended.
There are 168 articles on Love — 358 on vVngels — 200 on the Soul —
85 on Demons — 151 on the Intellect — 134 on Law — ^ on the Cata-
menia — 237 on Sins — 17 on Virginity, and others on a variety of
topics.

The scholastic tree is covered with prodigal foliage , but is barren
of fruit ; and when the scholastics employed themselves in solving
the deepest mysteries, their philosophy became nothing more than
an instrument in the hands of the Roman Pontiff. Aquinas has com-
posed 358 articles on angels , of which a few of the heads have been
culled for the reader.

He treats of angels , their substance , orders , offices , natures ,
habits, etc. — as if he himself had been an old experienced angel I

Angels were not before the world I

Angels might have been before the world I

Angels were created by God — They were created immediately
by him — They were created in the Empyrean sky — They were
created in grace — They were created in imperfect beatitude. After a
severe chain of reasoning , he shows that angels are incorporeal
compared to us , but corporeal compared to God.

An angel is composed of action and potentiality •, the more supe-
rior he is, he has the less potentiality. They have not matter pro-
perly. Every angel differs from another angel in species. An angel
is of the same species as a soul. Angels have not naturally a body
united to them. They may assume bodies ; but they do not want to
assume bodies for themselves, but for us.

The bodies assumed by angels are of thick air.

The bodies they assume have not the natural virtues which they
show , nor the operations of life , but those which are common to
inanimate things.

An angel may be the same with a4)ody.

In the same body tliere are, the soul formally giving being, and
operating natural operations ; and the angel operating supernatural
operations.

Angels administer and govern every corporeal creature.

God , an angel , and the soul , are not contained in space , but con-
tain it.

Many angels cannot be in the same space.

The motion of an angel in space is nothing else than dilTerent
contacts of different successive places.

The motion of an angel is a succession of his different operations.

His motion may b(! continuous and disctonlinuous as he \\\\\.

The conlirnious molioti ol" an angel is necessary through every
mediun), but may be discontinuous without an»edium.

OR SCHOLASTIC DISQUISITIONS. 53

The velocity of the motion of an angel is not according to the
quantity of his strength , but according to his w ill.

The motion of the iliumination of an angel is threefold, or circu-
lar, straight, and oblique.

In this account of the motion of an angel we are reminded of the
beautiful description of Mflton, who marks it by a continuous mo-
tion,

" Smooth-sliding without step."

The reader desirous of being meiry with Aqulnas's angels may
find them in Martinus Scriblcrus , in Cli. YII. w lio inquires if angels
pass from one extreme to another without going through the middle?
And if angels know things more clearly in a morning? How many
angels can dance on the point of a very fine needle , without jostling
one another?

All the questions in Aquinas are answered with a subtlety of dis-
tinction more difficult to comprehend and remember than many pro-
blems in Euclid ; and perhaps a few of the best might still be selected
for youth as curious exercises of the understanding. However, a
great part of these peculiar productions are loaded with the most
trifling, irreverend, and even scandalous discussions. Even Aquinas
could gravely debate, Whether Christ was not an Hermaphrodite?
Whether there are excrements In Paradise? Whether the pious at the
resurrection will rise with their bowels? Others again debated —
Whether the angel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary in the
shape of a serpent , of a dove , of a man , or of a woman ? Did he
seem to be young or old? In what dress was he? Was his garment
white or of two colours? Was his linen clean or foul? Did he appear
in the morning, noon, or evening? What was the colour of the
Virgin Mary's hair? Was she acquainted with the mechanic and
liberal arts ? Had she a thorough knowledge of the Book of Sen-
tences, and all it contains? that is, Peter Lombard's compilation
from the works of the Fathers, written 1200 years after her death.
— But these are only trifling matters; they also agitated, Whether
when during her conception the Virgin was seated , Christ too was
seated; and whether when she lay down, Christ also lay down. The
following question was a favourite topic for discussion , and the acu-
test logicians never resolved it : '•' When a hog is carried to market
w ith a rope tied about its neck , which is held at the other end by a
man, whether is the hog carried to market by the rope or the
maji?''

In the tenth century ' , after long and ineffectual controversy

' Jortin's ilcmarks ou Ecclebiablical History, Vol. V, p. 17.

bi QUODLinETS. — FAME CO?iTEMNED.

about the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament, they at length
universally agreed to sign a peace. This mutual forbearance must
not hewever be ascribed to the prudence and virtue of those times.
It was mere ignorance and incapacity of reasoning which kept the
peace, and deterred them from entering into debates to which they
at length found themselves unequal !

Lord Lyttelton, in his Life of Henry IL , laments the unhappy
effects of the scholastic philosophy on the progress of the human
mind. The minds of men were turned from classical studies to the
subtilties of school divinity, which Rome encouraged as more pro-
fitable for the maintenance of her doctrines. It was a great misfor-
tune to religion and to learning, that men of such acute understand-
ing as Abelard and Lombard , who might have done much to reform
the errors of the church , and to restore science in Europe , should
have depraved both , by applying their admirable parts to weave these
cobwebs of sophistry, and to confound the clear simplicity of evange-
lical truths by a false philosophy and a captious logic.

FAME CONTEMNED.

All men are fond of glory, and even those philosophers who
write against that noble passion prefix their jiames to their own
works. It is worthy of observation that the authors of two religious
boohs , universally received , have concealed their names from the
world. The "Imitation of Christ" is attributed , without any autho-
rity, to Thomas A'Kempis; and the author of the "Whole Duly of
Man" still remains undiscovered. Millions of their books have been
dispersed in the christian world.

To have revealed their names , would have given them as much
worldly fame as any moralist has obtained — but they contemned it I
Their religion was raised above all worldly passions ! Some profane
writers indeed have also concealed their names to great works , but
their motives were of a very different cast.

THE SIX FOLLIES OF SCIENCE.

Nothing is so capable of disordering the intellects as an intense
application to any 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. " It is proper,
however," Fontenelle remarks, " to apply one's self to these inqui-
ries •, because we find , as we proceed , many valuable discoveries of
which we were before ignorant." The same thought Cowley has ap-
plied , in an address to his mistress , thus —

THE SIX FOLLIES OF SCIENCE 55

" Alliiougli I tliuik tliou never wiU be found.
Yet I'm resolved to search for thee :
The search itscli' rewards the paius.

So tliough the chymist his great secret miss ,
( For neither it iu art nor nature is)

Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his ciiarge and labour pay
Witli good unsought eiijeriments by the way."

The same thought is in Donne 5 perhaps Cowley did not suspect
that he was an imitator ; Fontenelle could not have read either ; he
struck out the thought by his own reflection. Glauber searched long
and deeply for the philosopher's stone, which though he did not
find, yet in his researches he discovered a very useful purging salt ,
which bears his name.

IMaupertuis observes on the Philosophical Stone , that we cannot
prove the impossibility of obtaining it, but we can easily see the
folly of those who employ their time and money in seeking for it.
This price is too great to counterbalance the little probability of suc-
ceeding in it. However it is still a banthng of modern chemistry, who
has nodded very affectionately on it! — Of the Perpetual Motion,
he shows the impossibility, at least in the sense in which it is gene-
rally received. On the Quadrature of the Circle, he says he cannot
decide if this problem be resolvable or not : but he observes , that
it is very useless to search for it any more ^ since we have arrived by
approximation to such a point of accuracy, that on a large circle,
such as the orbit which the earth describes round the sun, the
geometrician will not mistake by the thickness of a hair. The quad-
rature of the circle is still , however , a favourite game of some
visionaries , and several are still imagining that they have discovered
the perpetual motion ^ the Italians nick-name them matto perpc-
tuo ; and Bekker tells us of the fate of one Hartmann of Leipsic ,
who was in such despair at having past his hfe so vainly, in study-
ing the perpetual motion , that at length he hanged himself I

IMITATORS.

Some writers, usually pedants, imagine that they can supply
by the labours of industry the deficiencies of nature. Paulus Manu-
tius frequently spent a month in writing a single letter. He affected
to imitate Cicero. But although he painfully attained to something
of the elegance of his style , destitute of the native graces of unaf-
fected composition , he was one of those whom Erasmus bantered in
his Ciceronianus , as so slavishly devoted to Cicero's style , that
they ridiculously employed the utmost precautions when they were
seized by a Ciceronian fit. The Nosoponus of Erasmus t4?lls us of

66 IMITATORS.

his devotion to Cicero •, of his three indexes to all his words , and his
never writing but in tlie dead of night ; employing months upon a
few lines, and his religious veneration for words, with his total
indifference about the sense.

Le Crun , a Jesuit, was a singular instance of such unhappy imi-
tation. He was a Latin poet , and his themes were religious. He
formed the extravagant project of substituting a religious Virgil
and 0\>id merely by adapting his works to their titles. His Chris-
tiaji Virgil consisls, like the Pagan Virgil oi Eclogues, Geor-
gics , and of an Epic of twelve books , with this difference , that
devotional subjects are substituted for fabulous ones. His epic is the
Ignaciad, or the pilgrimage of Saint Ignatius. His Christian Ovid
is in the same taste; everything wears a new face. The Epistles
are pious ones ; the Fasti are the six days of the Creation ; the
Elegies are the Lamentations of Jeremiah ; a poem on the Love
of God I?, substituted for the Art of Love ^ and the history of some
Conversions supplies the place of the Metamorphoses ! This Jesuit
would, no doubt, have approved of a /rt77^^'(y Shakespeare!

A poet of far different character, the elegant Sannazarius, has
done much the same thing in his poem De partu Virginis. The
same servile imitation of ancient taste appears. It professes to cele-
brate the birth of Christ, yet his name is not once mentioned in it !
The Virgin herself is styled spes deorum! "The hope of the
Gods!" T\\Q Lncarnation is predicted by Proteus! The Virgin,
instead of consulting the sacred writings , reads the Sybilline
oracles! Her attendants are Dryads , Nereids, etc. This mons-
trous mixture of polytheism with the mysteries of Christianity ap-
peared in every thing he had about him. In a chapel at one of his
country seats he had two statues placed at his tomb , Apollo and
Minerva; catholic piety found no difficully in the present case, as
well as in innumerable others of the same kind , to inscribe the
statue o{ Apollo with the name of David, and that o[ Minerva
w ith the female one of Judith !

Seneca, in his IHth Epistle, gives a curious literary anecdote
of the sort of imitation by which an inferior mind becomes tlie mon-
key of an original writer. At Rome, when Sallust was the fashion-
able writer, short sentences, uncommon words, and an obscure
brevity, wore affected as so many elegancies. Arruntius, Avho wrote
the history of the Punic Wars , painfully laboured to imitate Sallust.
Expressions which ar(! rare in Sallust are frequent iii Arruntius ,
and, of course, witlioul (ho motive that induced Sallust to adopt
them. What rose naturally under the pen of the great historian, the
minor one nuist have run after with a ridiculous anxiety. Seneca
adds several instances of the servile affectation of Arruntius , whicli

IMITATORS. 57

seem much like those we once had of Johnson , by the undiscerning
herd of liis apes.

One cannot but smile at these imitators ; we have abounded with
them. In the days of Churchill, every month produced an effusion
which lolcra^y imitated his slovenly versification , his coarse invec-
tive, and his careless mediocrity — but the genius remained with the
English Juvenal. Sterne had his countless multitude, and in Field-
ing's time, Tom Jones produced more bastards in wit than llie
author could ever suspect. To such Uterary echoes, the reply of
Philip of Macedon to one who prided himself on imitating the notes
of the nightingale may be applied; ■•' I prefer the nightingale
herself! " Even the most successful of this imitating tribe must be
doomed to sliare the fate of SiUus Italicus in his cold imitation of
Virgil , and Cawthorne in his empty harmony of Pope.

To all these imitators I must apply an Arabian anecdote. Ebn Saad,
one of Mahomet's amanuenses, when writing what the prophet dic-
tated, cried out by way of admiration — "Blessed be God the best
Creator I" Mahomet approved of the expression, and desired him
to write those words down as part of the inspired passage. — The
consequence was , that Ebn Saad began to think himself as great a
prophet as his master, and took upon himself to imitate the Koran
according to his fancy ; but the imitator got himself into trouble ,
and only escaped with life by falling on his knees , and solemnly
swearing he would never again imitate the Koran , for which he was
sensible God had never created him.

CICERO'S PUNS.

•

" I SHOULD, " says Menage, " have received 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 care-
fully 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 5 be-
cause nothing is more disgusting than to exult in our intellectual
powers."

Whatever were the bon mots of Cicero , of which few have come
down to us , it is certain that Cicero was an inveterate punster : and
he seems to have been more ready with them than with repartees.
He said to a senator, who was the son of a tailor, " Re?}i acu tcii-
gistiJ" You have touched it sharply; acu means sharpness as well
as the point of a needle. To the son of a cook, " Ego quoqiie tibi
jure favebo." The ancients pronounced cocc and quoquc like

58 CICERO'S PUKS.

co-he, which alludes to the Latin cocus , cook, besides the ambi-
guity of Jure , which applies to broth or law — jus. A Sicilian sus-
pected of being a Jew, attempted to get the cause of Vcrrcs into his
own hands •, Cicero , who knew that he was a creature of the great
culprit, opposed him, observing "What has a Je\* to do with
swine's flesh? " The Romans called a boar pig Verres. I regret to
afford a respectable authority for forensic puns •, however, to have
degraded his adversaries by such petty personalities , only proves
that Cicero's taste was not exquisite.

There is something very original in Montaigne's censure of Cicero.
Cotton's translation is admirable.

" Boldly to confess the truth, bis way of writing, and that of all
other long-winded authors , appears to me very tedious •, for his
preface, definitions, divisions, and etymologies, take up the greatest
part of his work : whatever there is of life and marrow, is smothered
and lost in the preparation. When I have spent an hour in reading
him , which is a great deal for me , and recollect what I have thence
extracted of juice and substance , for the most part I find nothing
but wind : for he is not yet come to the arguments that serve to his
purpose, and the reasons that should properly help to loose the knot
I would untie. For me , who only desired to become more wise , not
more learned or eloquent , these logical or Aristotelian disquisitions
of poets are of no use. I look for good and solid reasons at the first
dash. lam for discourses that give the first charge into the heart of
the doubt ^ his languish about the subject , and delay our expectation.
Those are proper for the schools , for the bar, and for the pulpit ,
vherc wc have leisure to nod, and may awake a quarter of an hour
after, lime enough to find again the thread of the discourse. It is
necessary to speak after this manner to judges , whom a man has a
design, right or wrong, to incline to favour his cause-, to children
and common people , to whom a man must say all he can. I would
not have an author make it his business to render me attentive ; or
that he should cry out fifty limes O yes!^% the clerks and heralds do.

"As to Cicero, I am of the common opinion that, learning
excepted , he had no great natural parts. He was a good citizen , of
an affable nature , as all fill heavy men — {^ras et gausscurs are the
words in the original , meaning perhaps broad jokers , for Cicero
was not fat ) — such as he was , usually are •, but given to ease , and
had a mighty share of vanity and ambition. Neither do I know how
to excuse him for thinking his poetry fit to be published. 'Tis no
great impcrfeclion to write ill verses; but it is an imperfection not
to b(; able to judge how unworthy bad verses were of the glory of
his name. For what concerns his eloquence , that is totally out oi'
comparison, and I believe will never be equalled."

PREFACES. 69

PREFACES.

A PREFACE , being the entrance to a book , should invite by its
beauty. An elegant porch announces the splendour of Ihc interior. I
have observed that ordinary readers skip over these little elaborate
compositions. The 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 amuse-
ment from a preface, be it awkwardly or skilfully written •, for dul-
ness, or impertinence, may raise a laugh for a page or two. A prefece
is frequently a superior composition to the work itself 5 for, long
before the days of Johnson , it had been a custom with many authors
to solicit for this department of their work the ornamental contribu-
tion of a man of genius. Cicero tells his friend Alticus , that he had
a volume of prefaces or introductions always ready by him to be
used as circumstances required. These must have been like our
periodical essays. A good preface is as essential to put the reader
into good humour, as a good prologue is to a play, or a fine symphony
to an opera , containing something analogous to the work itself 5 so
that we may feel its want as a desire not elsewhere to be gratified.
The Italians call the preface la salsa del libro , the sauce of the
book, and if well seasoned it creates an appetite in the reader to de-
vour the book itself. A preface badly composed prejudices the reader
against the work. Authors are not equally fortunate in these little
introductions •, some can compose volumes more skilfully than pre-
faces , and others can finish a preface who could never be capable
of finishing a book.

On a very elegant preface prefixed to an ill-written book , it was
observed that they ought never to have come together; but a sar-
castic wit remarked that he considered such marriages were allow-
able, for they were not ofhin.

In prefaces an affected haughtiness or an atTected humility are
alike despicable. There is a deficient dignity in Robertson's ; but the
haughtiness is now to our purpose. This is called by the French
" la morgue litteraire ,^'' the surly pomposity of literature. It is
sometimes used by writers who have succeeded in their first w ork,
while the failure of their subsequent productions appears to have
given them a Hterary hypochondriasm. Dr. Armstrong, after his
classical poem , never shook hands cordially with the public for not
relishing his barren labours. In the preface to his lively " Sketches"
he tells us, " he could give them much bolder strokes as well as
more dehcate touches, but that he dreads the danger of'writini;
too well, and feels the value of his own labour too sensibly to bestow
it upon the mobility.'' This is pure milk compared to the gall in the

60 PREFACES.

preface to his poems. There he tells us, " that at last he has taken
the trouble to collect t/iem ! What he has destroyed would , pro-
bably enough , have been belter received by the great majority of
reader's. But he has always most lieartily despised tlieir opinion.'''
These prefaces remind one of the prologi galeati, prefaces with a
helmet ! as St. Jerome entitles the one to his Version of the Scriptures.
These armed prefaces were formerly very common in the age of
literary controversy 5 forhalfthebusinessof an author consisted then,
either in replying, or anticipating a reply, to the attacks of his
opponent.

Prefaced ought to be dated ; as these become, after a series of
editions, leading and useful circumstances in Uterary history.

Fuller with quaint humour observes on Indexes — "An Index
is a necessary implement , and no impediment of a book , except in
the same sense wherein the carriages of an army are termed Impe-
dimenta. Without this , a large author is but a labyrinth without a
clue to direct the reader therein. I confess there is a lazy kind of
learning which is only Indicalj when scholars ( like adders which
only bite the horse's heels) nibble but at the tables, which are calces
librorum, neglecting the body of the book. But though the idle de-
serve no crutches (let not a staff be used by them, but on them), pity
it is the weary should be denied the benefit tliereof , and industrious
scholars prohibited the accommodation of an index, most used by
those who most pretend to contemn it."

EARLY PRINTING.

There is some probability that this art originated in China , where
it was practised long before it was known in Europe. Some Euro-
pean traveller might have imported the hint. That the Romans did
not practise the art of printing cannot but excite our astonishment,
since they actually used it, unconscious of tlieir rich possession. I
have seen Roman stereotypes , or jirinting immoveable types with
which they stamped their pottery. How in daily practising the art,
though confined to this object , it did not occur to so ingenious a
people to print their literary works , is not easily to be accounted
for. Did the wise and grave senate dread those inconveniences which
attend its indiscriminate use? Or perhaps they did not care to deprive
so large a body of Scribes of their business. Not a hint of the art itself
a[)pears in their writings.

Where first the art of printing was discovered, they only made
use of one side of a leaf ; tlicy had not yet found out the cxpedi(^nt of
impresshig the other. Afterwards they thought of pasting the blank
sides , which made thcni ai)i)ear like one leaf. Tlieir blocks were

EARLY PRINTING. 61

made of soft woods, and their letters were carved-, but frequently
breakine;, the expense and trouble of carvinp; and jjluing new letters
su^ested our moveable types, which have produced an almost mi-
raculous celerity in tiiis art. Our modern stereotype consists of entire
pages in solid blocks of metal , and , not being li;iljle to break like the
soft wood at first used , is profitably employed for works which require
to be frequently reprinted. Printing in carved blocks of wood must
have greatly retarded the progress of universal knowledge : for one
set of types could only have produced one work whereas it now
serves for hundreds.

When their editions were intended to be curious , they omitted
to print the initial letter of a chapter, they left that blank space to
be painted or illuminated , to the fancy 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.

The initial carved letter, which is generally a fine wood-cut,
among our printed books , is evidently a remains or imitation of
these ornaments. Among the very earliest books printed , which
were religious , the Poor Man's Bible has wooden cuts in a coarse
style , without the least shadowing or crossing of strokes , aijd these
they inelegantly daubed over with colours, which they termed illu-
minating, and sold at a cheap rate to those who could not afford to
purchase costly missals elegantly written and painted on vellum.
Specimens of these rude efforts of illuminated prints may be seen in
Strutt's Dictionary of Engravers. The Bodleian library possesses the
originals.

In the productions of early printing may be distinguished the
various splendid editions of Pj inters, or Prayer-hooks. These
were embellished with cuts finished in a most elegant taste : many
of them were grotesque or obscene. In one of them an angel is re-
presented crowning the Virgin Mary, and God the Father himself
assisting at the ceremony. Sometimes St. Michael is overcoming
Satan ; and sometimes St. Anthony is attacked by various devils of
most clumsy forms — not of the grotesque and limber family of
Callot I

Printing was gradually practised throughout Europe from the
year 1440 to 1508. Caxlon and his successor Wynkyn de Worde
were our own earliest printers. Caxton was a wealthy merchant ,
who, in 1464 , being sent by Edward lY, to negociate a conmier-
cial treaty with the duke of Burgundy, returned to his country willi
this invaluable art. Notwithstanding his mercantile habits , he pos-
sessed a literary taste , and his first work was a translation from a
French historical miscellany.

The tradition of the Devil and Dr. Fauslus was said to have

62 EARLY PRINTING.

been derived from the odd circumslancejin which Ihe Bibles of
the first printer, Fust, appeared to the world; but if Dr. Faustus
and Faustus the printer are two different persons , the tradition
becomes suspicious , though , insome respects , it has a foundation
in truth. When Fust had discovered this new art , and printed off
a considerable number of copies of the Bible to imitate those which
were commonly sold as MSS, he undertook the sale of them at
Paris. It was his interest to conceal this discovery, and to pass off
his printed copies for MSS. But , enabled to sell his Bibles at sixty
crow ns , w hile the other scribes demanded five hundred , this raised
universal astonishment ; and still more when he produced copies as
fast as they were wanted , and even lowered his price. The uni-
formity of the copies increased the wonder. Informations were
given in to the magistrates against him as a magician 5 and in
searching his lodgings a great number of copies were found. The
red ink , and Fust's red ink is peculiarly brilliant , which embel-
lished his copies , was said to be his blood •, and it was solemnly
adjudged that he was in league with the devil. Fust at length was
obliged , to save himself from a bonfire , to reveal his art to the
Parliaijient of Paris , who discharged him from all prosecution in
consideration of this useful invention.

When the art of printing was established, it became the glory of
the Learned to be correctors of the press to eminent printers. Phy-
sicians , lawyers , and bishops themselves occupied this department.
The printers then added frequently to their names those of the cor-
rectors of the press ; and editions were then valued according to
ihe abilities of the corrector.

The prices of books in these times were considered as an object
worthy of the animadversions of the highest powers. This anxiety
in favour of the studious appears from a privilege of Pope Leo X.
to Aldus Manulius for printing Varro, dated 1553, signed Cardinal
Bembo. Aldus is exhorted to put fa moderate price on the work,
lest the Pope should withdraw the privilege , and accord it to
others.

Piobcrt Stephens , one of the early printers , surpassed in cor-
rectness those who exercised the same profession.

It is said that to render his editions immaculate, he hung up the
proofs in public places, and generously recompensed those who were
so fortunate as to delect any errata.

Plantin , though a learned man , is more famous as a printer.
Ills printing-oflice was one of the wonders of Europe. This grand
building was the chief ornament of the city of Antwerp. Magnificent
in its structure, it presented to Ihe spectator a countless number
of presses , characters of all figures and all sizes , matrixes to cast

EARLY PRINTING. C3

IctU^rs , and all other printing materials •, which Baillct assures us
amounted to immense sums.

In Italy, the three Manulii were more solicitous of correctness
and illustrations than of the beauty of their printing. They were
ambitious of the character of the scholar, not of the printer.

It is much to be regretted that our publishers are not hterary
men. Among the learned printers formerly a book was valued
because it came from the presses of an Aldus or a Stephens ; and
even in our time the names of Bowycr and Dodsley sanctioned a
work. Pelisson , in his history of the French academy, mentions
that (>anmsat was selected as their bookseller, from his reputation
i'or publishing only valuable works. He was a man of some litera-
ture and good sense , and rarely printed an indifferent work :^ when
we were young I recollect that we always made it a rule to purchase
his publications. His name was a test of the goodness of the work. "
A publisher of this character w ould be of the greatest utility to the
literary world ; at home he would induce a number of ingenious
men to become authors , for it would be honourable to be inscribed
in his catalogue 5 and it would be a direction for the continental
reader.

So valuable an union of learning and printing did not, unfortu-
nately, last. The printers of the seventeenth century became less
charmed with glory than with gain. Their correctors and their
letters evinced as little delicacy of choice.

The invention of what is now called the Italic letter in printing
was made by Aldus Manutius , to whom learning owes much. He
observed the many inconveniences resulting from the vast number
of abbreviations, w hich w ere then so frequent among the printers ,
that a book was dilTicult to understand 5 a treatise was actually
w ritten on the art of reading a printed book , and this addressed to
the learned ! He contrived an' expedient , by w hich these abbrevia-
tions might be entirely got rid of, and yet books suffer little increase
in bulk. This he effected by introducing what is now called the
Italic letter, thought it formerly was distinguished by the name of
the inventor, and called the Aldine.

ERRATA.

Resides the ordinary errata, which happen in printing a work,
others have been purposely committed that the errata, may contain
what is not permitted to appear in the body of the work. Wherever
the Inquisition had any power, particularly at Rome , it was not
allowed to employ the y^oid Jatimi, or fata, in any book. An au-
thor, desirous of using the latter w ord , adroitly invented this

G4 ERRATA

scheme : he had printed in his JDOok/rtcfa, and , in the errata, he
put, ^or facta, rcixdfata.

Scarron has done the same thing on another occasion. He had
composed some verses, at the head of which he placed this dedi-
cation.— A Guillemette, Chienne de ma Sceur; but having a
quarrel with his sister, he maliciously put into the errata, instead
of Chienne de ma Sceur, read ma Chienne de Sceur.

LuUy at the close of a bad prologue said , the word fin du pro-
lof>;ue was an erratum, it should have been /Z du prologue.

In a book, there was printed , le docte Morel. A wag put into
the errata, for le docte Morel, read le docteur Morel. This
3Iorel was not the first docteur not docte.

When a fanatic published a mystical work full of unintelligible
raptures , and which he entitled Les Delices de V Esprit, it was
proposed to print in his errata , for Delices, read Delires.

The author of an idle and imperfect book ended with the usual
phrase of cetera desiderantur , one altered it non desiderantur sed
desunt; the rest is wanting, but not wanted.

At the close of a silly book , the author as usual printed the word
Finis. — A wit put this among the errata, with this pointed couplet :

Finis! an error, or a lie, my friend!

In writing foolish books — tliere is no End!

In the year 1561 , was printed a work, entitled the Anatomy of the
Mass. It is a thin octavo , of 172 pages, and it is accompanied by an
Errata of 15 pages! The editor, a pious Monk, informs us that a
very serious reason induced him to undertake this task : for it is,
says he , to forestal the artifices of Satan. He supposes that the
Devil , to ruin the fruit of this work , employed two very malicious
frauds : the fust before it was printed , by drenching the MS. in a
kennel , and having reduced it to a most pitiable slate , rendered se-
veral parts illegible : the second , in obliging the printers to commit
such numerous blunders, never yet equalled in so small a work. To
combat this double machination of Satan he was obliged carefully to
re-peruse (he work , and to form this singular list of the blunders of
printers , under the inlluence of -the Devil. All this he relates in an
advertisement prefixed to the Errata.

A furious controversy raged between two famous scholars from a
very laughable but accidental Erratum; and threatened serious con-
secjuences to one of llie parlies. Flavigny wrote two letters, criticising
rallier freely a polyglol Bible edited by Abraham Ecchellensis. As
this learned editor had sometimes censured tlic lal)ours of a fiiend of
Flavigny, (his latter api)lied to him the Ihird and fifth verses of the
seventh ciiapter of SI. Matthew, which he printed in Latin. Ver. 3.

ERRATA. Co

Quid vides fegtucam in ocuLofratris tui , et trabem in oculo
tuo non v ides ?Yer. 5. Ejiceprimuni traheni deocULO tuo, et
tunc videbis ejicerefestucnm de ocxJLO fratris tui. Ecchellensis
opens his reply by accusing Fiavigny of an enormous crime com-
mitted in this passage ^ attempting to correct the sacred text of the
Evangelist, and daring to reject a word , while he supplied its place
by another as impious as obscene ! This crime, exaggerated with
all the virulence of an angry declaimer, closes with a dreadful accu-
sation. Flavigny's morals arc attacked, and his reputation overtun-
ed by a horrid imputation. Yet all this terrible reproach is only
founded on an Erratum! The whole arose from the printer having
negligently suffered [hQ first /e«er of the word Oculo to have drop-
ped from the form when he happened to touch a line with his fin-
ger, which did not stand straight ! He published another letter to do
away the imputation of Ecchellensis ; but thirty years afterwards his
rage against the negligent printer was not extinguished ^ the Wits
were always reminding him of it.

Of all literary blunders none equalled that of the edition of the Vul-
gate , by Sixtus V. His HoUness carefully superintended every sheet
as it passed through the press ; and , to the amazement of the world,
the work remained without a rival — it swarmed w ith errata ! A mul-
titude of Scraps were printed to paste over the erroneous pas-
sages, in order to give the true text. The book makes a whimsical
appearance with these patches ; and the heretics exulted in this de-
monstration of papal infallibility I The copies were called in, and vio-
lent attempts made to suppress it ^ a few" still remain for the raptures
of the biblical collectors ; not long ago the bible of Sixtus V. fetched
above sixty guineas — not too much for a mere book of blunders I
The world was highly amused at the bull of the editorial Pope pre-
fixed to the first volume , which excommunicates all printers who in
reprinting the w ork should make any alteration in the text I

In the version of tlie Epistles of St. Paul into the Elhiopic lan-
guage , which proved to be full of errors , the editors allege a good-
humoured reason — " They who printed the work could not read ,
and we could not print •, they helped us , and we helped them , as the
blind helps the blind."

A printer's widow' in Germany, while a new edition of the Bible
was printing at her house , one night took an opportunity of steal-
ing into the office , to alter that sentence of subjection to her hus-
band, pronounced upon Eve in Genesis , Chap. 3. v. 16. She took
out the two first letters of the word Herr, and substituted Na in
their place, thus altering the sentence from "•'• and he shall be thy
Lord," {Herr) to '* and he shall be thy Fool," ( Vrt/v). It is
said her life paid for this intentional erratiun ; and that some se-

1. 5

Cf; ERRATA.

creted copies ol this edition have been bought up at enormous
prices.

We have an edition of the Bible, known by the name of The Vi-
negar Bible ; from the erratum in the title to the 20th Chap, of
St. Luke, in which " Parable of the Vineyard,'' is printed " Par-
able of the Vinegar.'''' It was printed in 1717, at the Clarendon press.
We have had another, where " Thou shalt commit adultery " was
printed , omitting the negation ; which occasioned the archbishop to
lay one of the heaviest penalties on the Company of Stationers that was
ever recorded in the annals of literary history.

Herbert Croft used to complain of the incorrectness of our English
classics , as reprinted by the booksellers. It is evident some stupid
printer often changes a whole text intentionally. The fine description
by Akenside of the Pantheon , "• severely great," not being un-
derstood by the blockhead , was printed serenely great. Swift's own
edition of " The City Shower," has " old aches throb." Aches is
two syllables , but modern printers, who had lost the right pronun-
ciation, have aches as one syllable ; and then, to complete the metre,
have foisted in " aches will throb." Thus what the poet and the lin-
guist v^ish to preserve is altered , and finally lost.

It appears by a calculation made by the printer of Steevens's edi-
tion of Shakspeare , that every octavo page of that work , text and
notes, contains 2680 distinct pieces of metal ^ which in a sheet amount
to 42,880 — the misplacing of any one of which would inevitably
cause a blunder ! With this curious ftict before us , the accurate state
of our printing, in general , is to be admired, and errata ought more
freely to be pardoned than the fastidious minuteness of the insect eye
of certain critics has allowed.

Whether such a miracle as an immaculate edition of a classical
author does exist , I have never learnt ^ but an attempt has been
made to obtain Ihis glorious singularity — and was as nearly realised
as is perhaps possible in the magnificent edition o[' y/s Lusiadas of
Camoens, by Don Jose Souza, in 1817. This amateur spared no
l)rodigaIity of cost and labour, and Haltered himself that by the as-
sistance of Didot , not a single tyi)Ographical error should be found
in that splendid volume. Hut an error was afterwards discovered in
some of the copies , occasioned by one of the; letters in the word
fAisitano having got misplaced during the working of one of the
sheets. It nuisl be confcss(!d that this was an accident or niisfor-
tiinc — rather than an lurahini!

One of the most remarkable complaints on eiuuta is that of Edw .
Leigh, appended to his curious treatise '•'• on llehgion and Learning.
It consisis of two folio i)ages, in a very minulc cliaracler, and exhi-
bits an incalculable number of i)rinler's blunders. '■'• We have not,"

PATRONS. • C7

he says, *' Planliii nor Slophcns amongst us ; and it is no easy task to
specify the chiefest errata ; false interpunclions there are too many •
here a letter wanting , there a letter loo much ; a syllable loo much,
one letter for another -, words parted where tiiey should be joined •
words joined which should be severed ; words misplaced 5 chronolo-
gical mistakes, etc." This unfortunate folio was printed in 1656.
Are we to infer by such frequent complaints of the authors of that
day, that either they did not receive proofs from the printers, or
that the printers never attended to the corrected proofs ? Each single
erratum seems to have been felt as a stab to the literary feelings of
the poor author I

PATRONS.

Authors have too frequently received ill treatment , even from
those to whom they dedicated their works.

Some who felt hurt at the shameless treatment of such mock Ma-
cenases have observed that no writer should dedicate his works but
to his FRIENDS ; as was practised by the ancients , who usually ad-
dressed those who had solicited their labours, or animated their pro-
gress. Theodosius Gaza had no other recompense for having in-
scribed to Sixtus IV. his translation of the book of Aristotle on the
Nature of Animals , than the price of the binding , which this chari-
table father of the church munificently bestowed upon him.

Theocritus fills his Idylliums 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 — " Dove diavolo avete pi-
gliato tante coglionerie?'" Where the devil have you found all
this nonsense?

When the French historian Dupleix , whose pen was indeed fer-
tile, presented his book to the Duke d'Epernon, this Maecenas, turn-
ing to the Pope s Nuncio , who was present , very coarsely exclaim-
ed— " Cadedis! ce Monsieur a un flux enrag^, il chie un livre
toutes les lunesl"

Thomson, the ardent author of the Seasons, having extrava-
gantly praised a person of rank, who afterwards appeared to be
undeserving of eulogiums, properly employed his pen in a so-
lemn recantation of his error. Pl very different conduct from that
of Dupleix , who always spoke highly of Queen Margaret of France
for a little place he held in her household : but after her death ,
when the place became extinct , spoke of her with all the freedom
of satire. Such is too often the character of some of the literati ,
who only dare to reveal the truth when they have no interest to
conceal it.

68 PATRONS.

Poor Mickle , to whom we are indebted for so beautiful a ver-
sion of Camoens' Lusiad , having dedicated this work , the conti-
nued labour of five years , to the Duke of Buccleugh , 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 suffi-
cient intellectual desire to cut open the pages! The neglect of this
nobleman reduced the poet to a slate of despondency. This patron
was a political economist, the pupil of Adam Smith ! It is pleasing
to add , in contrast with this frigid Scotch patron , that when
Mickle went to Lisbon, where his translation had long preceded his
visit , he found the Prince of Portugal waiting on the quay to be
first to receive the translator of his great national poem ; and dur-
ing a residence of six months , Mickle was warmly regarded by
every Portuguese nobleman.

" Every man believes,'' writes Dr. Johnson , to Baretti , " that
mistresses are unfaithful , and patrons are capricious. But he ex-
cepts his own mistress , and his own patron."

A patron is sometimes oddly obtained. Benserade attached him-
self to cardinal Mazarine ; but his friendship produced nothing but
civility. The poet every day indulged his easy and charming vein
of amatory and panegyrical poetry, while all the world read and
admired his verses. One evening the cardinal , in conversation
with the king , described his mode of life when at the papal court.
He loved the sciences ; but his chief occupation was the belles let-
Ires , composing little pieces of poetry ^ he said that he was then
in the court of Rome what Benserade was now in that of France.
Some hours afterwards the friends of the poet related to him the
conversation of the cardinal. He quitted them abruptly, and ran
to the apartment of his eminence , knocking with all his force ,
that he might be certain of being heard. The cardinal had just
gone to bed ; but he incessantly clamoured , demanding entrance ;
they were compelled to open the door. He ran to his eminence ,
fell upon his knees , almost pulled off the sheets of the bed in
rapture, imploring a thousand pardons for thus disturbing him;
but such was his joy in what he had just heard , which he repeat-
ed , that he could not refrain from immediately giving vent to his
gratitude and his pride, to have been compared with his emi-
nence for his poetical talents ! Had the door not been immediately
0[)ened , he should have expired ; he was not rich , it is true ,
but he should now die contented! The cardinal was pleased with
his ardour, and [)robably never suspected his //a/ie/y ,• and the
next week our new actor was pensioned.

On Cardinal Richelieu, another of his patrons, he gratefully
made this epitapii : —

POETS , PHILOSOPHERS , etc. 09

Cy gist , ouy gist , par la mort bleu ,
Le Cardinal de Richelieu ,
Et ce qui cause mou cunuy
Ma PENSION avec lui.

Here lies, egad, 'tis very true!
The illustrious Cardinal Richelieu :
My grief is genuine — void of whim !
Alas ! my pension lies with him !

Le Brun, Ihe great French artist, painted himself holding in
his hand the portrait of his earhest patron. In this accompaniment
Le Brun may he said to have portrayed the features of his soul. If
genius has loo often complained of its patrons , has it not also
often over-valued their protection?

POETS, PHILOSOPHERS, AND ARTISTS, MADE BY
ACCIDENT.

Accident has frequently occasioned the most eminent geniuses
to display their powers. " It was at Rome" says Gibbon , " on the
15th of October, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Ca-
pitol , while the bare-fooled friars were singing vespers in the Tem-
ple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the
City first started to my mind."

Father Malebranche having completed his studies in philosophy
and theology without any other intention than devoting himself to
some religious order, little expected the celebrity his works acquir-
ed for him. Loitering in an idle hour in the shop of a bookseller,
and turning over a parcel of books , L Homme de Descartes fell
into his hands. Having dipt into parts , he read with such delight ,
that the palpitations of his heart compelled him to lay the volume
down. It was this circumstance that produced those profound con-
templations which made him 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 by the Muse ,
that he grew irrecoverably a poet.

Sir Joshua Reynolds had the first fondness for his art excited
by the perusal of Richardson's Treatise.

Vaucanson displayed an uncommon genius for mechanics. His
taste was first determined by an accident : when young , he fre-
quently attended his mother to the residence of her confessor \ and
while she wept w ith repentance , he wept with weariness I In this
state of desigreeable vacation , says Helvetius , he was struck w ith
the uniform motion of the pendulum of the clock in the hall. His.

70 POETS, PHILOSOPHERS, AND ARTISTS,

curiosity was roused ; he approaclied the clock case , and studied
its mechanism ; what he could not discover, he guessed at. He
them projected a similar machine ; and gradually his genius produ-
ced a clock. Encouraged by this first success , he proceeded in his
various attempts ; and the genius, which thus could form a clock ,
in time formed a fluting automaton.

" Accident determined the taste of Moli6re for the stage. His
grandfather loved the theatre, and frequently carried him there.
The young man lived in dissipation : the father observing it , asked
in anger, if his son was to be made an actor. ' Would to God ,' re-
plied the grandfather, ' he were as good an actor as Montrose.'
The words struck young Moli6re •, he took a disgust to his tapes-
try trade ^ and it is to this circumstance France owes her greatest
comic writer.'

"Corneille loved; he made verses for his mistress, became a
poet, composed Melite, and afterwards his other celebrated works.
The discreet Corneille had remained a lawyer."

We owe the great discovery of Newton to a very trivial accident.
When a student at Cambridge , he had retired during the time of
the plague into the country. As he was reading under an apple-
tree , one of the fruit fell , and struck him a smart blow on the
head. When he observed the smallness of the apple , he was sur-
prised at the force of the stroke. This led him to consider the acce-
lerating motion of falling bodies; from whence he deduced the
principle of gravity, and laid the foundation of his philosophy.

Ignatius Loyola was a Spanish gentleman , who was dangerously
wounded at the siege of Pampeluna. Having healed his imagination
by reading the Lives of the Saints , which were brought to him in
his illness , instead of a romance , he conceived a strong ambition
to be the founder of a religious oi-der : whence originated the ce-
lebrated society of the Jesuits.

Rousseau found his eccentric powers first awakened by the adver-
tisement of the singular annual subject which the academy of Dijcm
proposed for that year, in which he wrote his celebrated Declamation
against the arts and sciences : a circumstance which decided his future
literary efforts.

La Fontaine , at the age of twenty-two , had not taken any pro-
fession , or devoted himself to any pursuit. Having accidentally
heard some verses of Malherbe , he felt a sudden injpulse , which
directed his future life. He immediately bought a Malherbe , and
was so exquisitely delighted with this poet, (hat after passing the
nights in treasuring his verses in his niemorj, he would run in the
day-lime to the \\oods, where concealing himself, he would recite
his verses (o Iho surrounding dryads.

MADE BY ACCIDENT. 7t

Flamsteed was an aslronomor fay accident. He was (aken from
school on account of his ilhiess, when Sacrofaosco's book de Sphaera
having been lent to him , he was so pleased with it , that he im-
mediately began a course of astronomic studies. Pennant's first
propensity to natural history was the pleasure he received from
an accidental perusal of Willouglifay's work on birds : the same
accident , of finding on the table of his professor , Reaumur's His-
tory of Insects , of which he read , more than he attended to the
lecture , and having been refused the loan , gave such an instant
turn to the mind of Bonnet , that he hastened to obtain a copy ^
after many difiiiullies in procuring this costly work , its posses-
sion gave an unalterable direction to his future life. This naturahst
indeed lost the use of his sight by his devotion to the microscope.

Dr. Franklin attributes the cast of his genius to a similar acci-
dent. " I found a work of De Foe's, entitled an ' Essay on Pro-
jects,' from which perhaps I derived impressions that have since
influenced some of the principal events of my life."

I shall add the incident w hich occasioned Roger Ascham to write
his Schoolmaster, one of the few works among our elder writers ,
which we still read with pleasure.

At a dinner given by Sir WiUiam Cecil , at his apartments at
Windsor, a number of ingenious men were invited. Secretary Cecil
communicated the news of the morning , that several scholars at
Eton had run away on account of their master's severity, which he
condemned as a great error in the education of youth. Sir William
Petre maintained the contrary ^ severe in his own temper, he plead-
ed warmly in defence of hard flogging. Dr. Wootton , in softer
tones, sided with the Secretary. Sir John Mason, adopting no side,
bantered both. Mr. Haddon seconded the hard-hearted Sir William
Petre, and adduced, as an evidence, that the best schoolmaster then
in England was the hardest flogger. Then was it that Roger Aschani
indignantly exclaimed, that if such a master had an able scholar it
was owing to the boy's genius, and not the preceptor's rod. Secre-
tary Cecil and others were pleased with Ascham's notions. Sir Rich-
ard Sackville was silent , but when Ascham after dinner went to
the queen to read one of the orations of Demosthenes , he took him
aside , and frankly told him that though he had tiiken no part in the
debate, he would not have been absent from that conversation for a
great deal •, that he knew to his cost the truth that Ascham had sup-
ported; for it was the perpetual flogging of such a school-master
that had given him an unconquerable aversion to study. And as he
wished to remedy this defect in his own children , he earnestly ex-
horted Ascham to write his observations on so interesting a topic.

72 INEQUALITIES OF GENIUS.

Such was the circumstance which produced the admirable treatise
of Roger Ascham.

INEQUALITIES OF GENIUS.

Singular inequalities are observable in the labours of genius ;
and particularly in those which admit great enthusiasm, as in
poetry, in painting, and in music. Faultless mediocrity industry can
preserve in one continued degree ^ but excellence , the daring and
the happy, can only be attained, by human faculties, by starts.

Our poets who possess the greatest genius, with, perhaps, the
least industry, have al the same time the most splendtd and the worst
passages of poetry. Shakspeare and Dry den are at once the greatest
and the least of our poets. With some, their great fault consists in
having none.

Carraccio sarcastically said of Tintoret — Ho veduto il Tintoretto
hora egiiale a Titiano , hora minora del Tintoretto — "• I have
seen Tintoret now equal to Titian , and now less than Tintoret."

Trublet justly observes — The more there are beauties , and
great beauties , in a work , I am the less surprised to ^nA faults ,
and great faults. When you say of a work— that il has many faults;
that decides nothing : and I do not know by this , whether il is exe-
crable , or excellent. You tell me of another — that it is without any
faults : if your account be just, it is certain the work cannot be
excellent.

It was observed of one pleader, that he hiew more than he said;
and of another, that he said more than he hiew.

Lucian happily describes the works of those who abound with
the most luxuriant language, void of ideas. He calls their unmean-
ing verbosity " anemony-words ;" for anemonies are flowers , which,
however brilliant, only please the eye, leaving no fragrance. Pratt,
who was a writer of flowing , but nugatory verses, was compared to
the daisy j a flower indeed , common enough and without odour.

GEOGRAPHICAL STYLE.

"There arc many sciences, says Menage, on which we cannot,
indeed, compose in a florid or elegant diction— such as geography,
music, algebra, geometry, etc." When Atlicus requested Cicero to
write on geography, the latter excused himself, observing, that its
scerics were more adapted to please the eye than susceptible of the
(Mubellishmcnt of style. However, in these kinds of sciences, we
may lend an ornanuinl to (heir dryness by inlroducing occasionally
some elegant allusion , or noticing some incident suggested by the
object.

GEOGRAPHICAL STYLE. 7?

Thus when we notice some inconsiderable place , for instance ,
Woodstock, we may recall attention to the residence of Chaucer,
the parent of our poetry, or the romantic labyrinth of Rosamond ;
or as in " an Autumn on the Rhine ,"al Ingelheim, at the view of an
old palace built by Charlemagne, the traveller adds , with " a hun-
dred columns brought from Rome," and further it was "• the scene
of the romantic amours of that monarch's fair daughter, Ibertha,
with Evinhard, his secretary 5" and viewing the Gothic ruins on
the banks of the Rhine, he noticed them as having been the haunts
of those \\\w%[t\o\x?, chevaliers voleurs , whose chivalry consisted in
pillaging the merchants and towns, till, in the thirteenth century,
a citizen of Mayence persuaded the merchants of more than a hun-
dred towns to form a league against these little princes and counts •
the origin of the famous Hanseatic league , which contributed so
much to the commerce of Europe. This kind of erudition gives an
interest to topography by associating in our memory great events
and personages with the localities.

The same principle of composition may be carried with the hap-
piest effect into some dry investigations , though the profound anti-
quary may not approve of these sports of wit or fancy. Dr. Arbulh-
not , in his Tables of Ancient Coins , Weights , and Measures , a
topic extremely barren of amusement , takes every opportunity of
enlivening the dulness of his task ^ even in these mathematical cal-
culations he betrays his wit; and observes, that " the polite Au-
gustus , the Emperor of the World , had neither any glass in his
windows, nor a shirt to his back I ' Those uses of glass and linen
indeed were not known in his time. Our physician is not less curious
and facetious in the account of ih^fees w hich the Roman physicians
received.

LEGENDS.

Those ecclesiastical histories entitled Legends are said to have
originated in the following circumstance.

Before colleges were established in the monasteries where the
schools were held , the professors in rhetoric frequently gave their
pupils the life of some saint for a trial of their talent at amplifica-
tion. The students, at a loss to furnish out their pages , invented
most of these wonderful adventures. Jortin observes, that the Christ-
ians used to collect out of Ovid , Livy and other pagan poets and
historians , the miracles and portents to be found there , and accom-
modated them to their own monks and saints. 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 imagi-

"4 LEGENDS.

ning that, at some distant period, they would become matters of
faith. Yet, when James de Voragine, Peter Nadal, and Peter Riba-
deneira, wrote the Lives of the Saints, they sought for their mate-
rials 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 volu-
minous absurdities. The people received these pious fictions with
all imaginable simplicity, and as these are adorned by a number of
cuts, the miracles were perfectly intelligible to their eyes. Tille-
mont, Fleury, Baillet, Launoi, and Bollandus, cleared away mucli
of the rubbish; the enviable title of Golden Legend, by which
James de Voragine called his work , has been disputed ; iron or
lead might more aptly describe its character.

When the world began to be more critical in their reading , the
monks gave a graver turn to their narratives ; and became penu-
rious of their absurdities. The faithful Catholic contends , that the
line of tradition has been preserved umbroken ; notwithstanding
that the originals were lost in the general wreck of literature from
the barbarians , or came down in a most imperfect slate.

Baronius has given ttie lives of many apocryphal saints ; for in-
stance, of a Saint Xinoris, whom he calls a martyr of Antioch; bu(
it appears that Baronius having read in Chrysostom this word, which
signifies a couple or pair, he mistook it for the name of a saint,
and contrived to give the most authentic biography of a saint who
never existed ! The Catholics confess this sort of blunder is not un-
common, but then it is only fools who laugh! As a specimen of the
happier inventions, one is given, embellished by the diction of Gib-
bon—

" Among the insipid legends of ecclesiastical history, I am tempt-
ed 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 lime the slaves of Adolius , to whom the inheritance of the
mountain had descended , removed the stones to sui)ply materials
for some rustic edifice. The light of the sun darted into the cavern,
and llie Seven Sleepers were peruntted to awake. After a slumber
as Ihey thought of a few hours , they were pressed by the calls of

LEGENDS. 7;^

hunger; and resolved that Jamblichus , one of their number, should
secretly return to the city to purchase bread for the use of his com-
panions. The youth , if we may still employ that appellation , could
no longer recognise the once familiar aspect of his native country ;
and his surprise was increased by the appearance of a large cross,
triumphantly erected over the principal gale of Ephesus. His sin-
gular 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 inquiries 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 ; w ho bestow ed their bene-
diction, related their story, and at the same instant peaceably
expired.

"This popular tale Mahomet learned when he drove his camels
to the fairs of Syria; and he has introduced it, as a divine reve-
lation, into the Koran." — The same story has been adopted and
adorned, by the nations from Bengal to Africa, who profess the
Mahometan religion.

The too curious reader may perhaps require other specimens of
the more unlucky inventions of this "■ Golden Legend;" as charac-
teristic of a certain class of minds , the philosopher will not contemn
these grotesque fictions.

These monks imagined that hohness was often proportioned to
a saint's filthiness. St. Ignatius, say they, delighted to appear abroad
with old dirty shoes ; he never used a comb , but let his hair clot ;
and religiously abstained from paring his nails. One saint attained
to such piety as to have near three hundred patches on his breeches ;
which, after his death, were hung up in public as an incentive to
imitation. St. Francis discovered by certain experience that the
devils were frightened away by such kind of fareeche's , but w ere
animated by clean clothing to tempt and seduce the wearers ; and
one of their heroes declares that the purest souls are in the dirtiest
bodies. On this they tell a story which may not be very agreeable
lo fastidious delicacy. Brother Juniper was a gentleman perfectly
pious on this principle ; indeed so great w as his merit in this species
of mortification , that a brother declared he could always nose Bro-
ther Juniper when within a mile of the monastery, provided the
w ind w as at the due point. Once , when the blessed Juniper, for he
was no saint , was a guest, his host , proud of the honour of enter-
taining so pious a personage, the intimate friend of St. Francis, pro-

76 LEGENDS.

\ided an excellent bed , and the finest sheets. Brother Juniper ab-
horred such luxury. And this too evidently appeared after his sudden
departure in the morning , unknown to his kind host. The great
Juniper did this, says his biographer, having told us what he did,
not so much from his habitual inclinations , for which he was so
justly celebrated, as from his excessive piety, and as much as he
could to mortify worldly pride , and to show how a true saint des-
pised clean sheets.

In the life of St. Francis we find , among other grotesque mira-
cles , that he preached a sermon in a desert , but he soon collected
an immense audience. The birds shrilly warbled to every sentence,
and stretched out their necks, opened their beaks, and when he
finished , dispersed with a holy rapture into four companies , to
report his sermon to all the birds in the universe. A grasshopper
remained a week w ilh St. Francis during the absence of the Virgin
Mary, and pittered on his head. JJe grew so companionable with a
nightingale , that when a nest of swallows began to babble, he hushed
them by desiring them not to tittle-tattle of their sister, the nightin-
gale. Attacked by a wolf, with only the sign manual of the cross , he
held a long dialogue with his rabid assailant, till the wolf, meek as a
lap-dog , stretched his paws in the hands of the saint , followed him
through towns , and became half a Christian.

This same St. Francis had such a detestation of the good things of
this world , that he would never suffer his followers to touch money.
A friar having placed in a window some money collected at the
altar, he desired him to take it in his mouth , and throw it on the
dung of an ass ! St. Philip Nerius was such a lover ofpoveHy^ that
he frequently prayed that God would bring him to that state as to
stand in need of a penny, and find nobody that would give him one!

But St. Macaire was so shocked at having killed a louse , that
he endured seven years of penitence among the thorns and briars
of a forest. A circumstance which seems to have reached Moli6re ,
who gives this stroke to the character of his Tartuffe : —

II s'impute a peclie la moiudre Lagatellcj
Jnsques-la qu'il s'en vint, I'autre jour s'accuser
D'avoir pris une puce en faisant sa priere,
Et de I'avoir tuee , avec trop de colere !

I gave a miraculous incident respecting two pious maidens. The
night of the Nativity of Christ, after Iho first mass, they both retired
into a solitary spot of their nunnery till the second mass was rung.
One asked the other, "Why do you want two cushions, when I
have only one?" The other rephcd, "I would place it between us,
for the child Jesus ^ as the Evangelist says, where there arc two

LEGENDS. 77

or three persons assembled I am in Ihe midst of tlicm." — This being
done , they sal down , feeling a most lively pleasure at their fancy ;
and there they remained from the Nativity of Christ to that of John
the Baptist-, but this great interval of time passed with these saintly
maidens as two hours would appear to others. The abbess and her
nuns were alarmed at their absence , for no one could give any ac-
count of them. In the eve of St. John, a cowherd, passing by them,
beheld a beautiful child seated on a cushion between this pair of
run-away nuns. He hastened to the abbess with news of these stray
sheep, who saw this lovely child playfully seated between these
nymphs, who, with blushing countenances, inquired if the second
bell had already rung? Both parties were equally astonished to find
our young devotees had been there from the Nativity of Jesus to
that of St. John. The abbess asked after the child who sat between
them •, they solemnly declared they saw no child between them , and
persisted in their story.

Such is one of these miracles of "the Golden Legend," which a
w icked w it might comment on , and see nothing extraordinary in
the whole story. The two nuns might be missing between the Nati-
vities, and be found at the last with a child seated between (hem.
— They might not chose to account either for their absence or their
child — the only touch of miracle is , that they asseverated , they saw
no child — that I confess is a little {child) too much.

The lives of the saints by Alban Butler is the most sensible his-
tory of these legends \ Ribadenairas lives of the saints exhibit more
of the legendary spirit, for wanting judgment and not faith, he is
more voluminous in his details. The antiquary may collect much
curious philosophical information , concerning the manners of the
times, from these singular narratives.

THE PORT-ROYAL SOCIETY.

Every lover of letters has heard of this learned society, which
contributed so greatly to establish in France a taste for just reason-
ing, simplicity of style, and philosophical method. Their " Logic,
or the Art of Thinking," for its lucid, accurate and diversified mat-
ter, is still an admirable work notwithstanding the w Titers at that
time had to emancipate themselves from the barbarism of the scho-
lastic logic. It was the conjoint labour of Arnauld and NicoUe. Eu-
rope has benefited by the labours of these learned men : but not
many have attended to the origin and dissolution of this literary
society.

In the year 1637, LeMaitre, a celebrated advocate, resigned the
bar, and the honour of being Consciller d'etat , which his uncom-

78 THE PORT-ROYAL SOCIETY.

mon lueril had obtained him , though then only twenty-eight years
of ago. His brotlier, De Sericourt , who had followed the military
profession , quitted it at the time. Consecrating themselves to the
service of God, they retired into a small house near the Port Royal
of Pjiris, where they were joined by their brothers De Sacy, De
St. Elme , and De Valmont. Arnauld , one of their most illustrious
associates, was induced to enter into the Jansenist controversy, and
then it was that they encountered the powerful persecution of the
Jesuits. Constrained to remove from that spot, they fixed their resid-
ence at a few leagues from Paris, and called it Port Royal des
Champs.

With these illustrious recluses many distinguished persons now
retired, who had given up their parks and houses to be appro-
prialed to their schools ; and this community was called the So-
ciety of Port-Royal.

Here were no rules, no vows, no constitution, and no cells
formed. Prayer and study, and manual labour, were their only oc-
cupations. They applied themselves to the education of youth , and
raised up little academies in the neighbourhood , where the mem-
bers of Port-Royal , the most illustrious names of literary France ,
presided. None considered his birth entitled him to, any exemption
from their public offices , relieving the poor and attending on the
sick , and employing themselves in their farms and gardens ; they
were carpenters , ploughmen , gardeners , and vine-dressers , .as if
they had practised nothing else-, they studied physic, and surgery,
and law, in truth , it seems that from religious motives , these
learned men attempted to form a community of primitive Chris-
tianity.

The Duchess of Longueville , once a poUtical chief, sacrificed
her ambition on the altar of Port-Royal , enlarged the monastic
iiiclosure with spacious gardens and orchards , built a noble house ,
and often retreated to its seclusion. The learned D'Andilly, the
translator of Josephus, after his studious hours, resorted to the
cultivation of fruit-trees •, and the fruit of Port-Royal became cele-
brated for its size and llavour. Presents were sent to the Queen-
Mother of lYancc, Anne of Austria, and Cardinal Mazarine, who
used to call it " Fruit b6ni." It appears that " liimilics of rank, af-
fluence, and piety, who did not wish entirely to give up their
avocations in the world , built tliemselves country-houses in the
valley of Port-Royal , in order to enjoy the society of its religious
and literary inhabitants."

In the solitudes of Porl-Hoyal Racine received his education •
and, on his death-bed, desired to be buried in its cemetery, at
the feel of his master Hamon Arnauld, persecuted, and dying in

THE POKT-ROYAL SOCiElY. 70

a foreign country, slill casl his lingering looks on tliis beloved
rclrcal, and left Ihe society his heart, which was there inurned.

Anne de Bourbon, a princess of the blood- royal, erected a
house near the Port-Royal , and was , during her life , the pow er-
ful patroness of these solitary and religious men : but her death ,
in 1679, was 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 , occa-
sioned the destruction f)f the Port-Pvoyal Society. Exinanite , exi-
nanite usque ad fundainenUun in ea! — Annihilate it, annihilate
it, to its very foundations I Such are the terms of the Jesuitic decree.
The Jesuits had long called the little schools of Port-Royal the hot-
beds of heresy. The Jesuits obtained by their intrigues an order
from government to dissolve that virtuous society. They razed the
buildings, and ploughed up the very foundation-, they exhausted
their hatred even on the stones , and profaned even the sanctuary
of the dead ; the corpses were torn out of their graves , and dogs
were suffered to contend for the rags of their shrouds. The memory
of that asylum of innocence and learning was still kept alive by
those who collected the engravings representing the place by Ma-
demoiselle Hortemels. The police , under Jesuitic influence , at
length seized on the plates in the cabinet of the fair artist. —
Caustic was the retort courteous which Arnauld gave the Jesuits.
— "I do not fear your pen , but its knife.''''

These were men whom the love of retirement had united to cul-
tivate literature, in the midst of soUtude, of peace, and of piety.
Alike occupied on sacred , as w ell as on profane writers , their
writings fixed the French language. The example of these solitaries
show how retirement is favourable to penetrate into the sanctuary
of the Muses.

An interesting anecdote is related of Arnauld on the occasion of
the dissolution of this society. The dispersion of these great men ,
and their young scholars , was lamented by every one but their
enemies. Many persons of the highest rank participated in their
sorrows. The excellent Arnauld , in that moment , w as as closely
pursued as if he had been a felon.

It was then the Duchess of Longueville concealed Arnauld in
an obscure lodging , who assumed the dress of a layman , w ear-
ing a sword and full-bottomed wig. Arnauld was attacked by a fever,
and in the course of conversation with his physician , Arnauld in-
quired after news. " They talk of a new book of the Port-Royal,"
replied the doctor, "-ascribed to Arnauld or to Sacy; but I do not
believe it comes from Sacy; he does not write so well.'' — "How,
sir ! '" exclaimed the philosopher, forgetting his sword and wig 5

80 THE PROGRESS OF OLD AGE.

"believe me my nephew writes better than I do." — The physi-
cian eyed his patient with amazement — he hastened to the duchess ,
and told her, "The malady of the gentleman you sent me to is
not very serious , provided you do not suffer him to see any one ,
and insist on his holding his tongue." The duchess, alarmed, im-
mediately had Arnauld conveyed to her palace. She concealed him
in an apartment, and persisted to attend him herself. — "Ask,"
she said, "what you want of the servant, but it shall be myself
who shall bring it to you."

How honourable is it to the female character, that, in all si-
milar events , their fortitude is equal to their sensibility ! But the
Duchess of Longueville saw in Arnauld a model of human fortitude
which martyrs never excelled. His remarkable reply to Nicole,
when they were hunted from place to place , should never be for-
gotten : Arnauld wished Nicole to assist him in a new work , when
the latter observed, "We are now old, is it not time to rest?"
" Rest ! " returned Arnauld , " have we not all eternity to rest in?"
The whole of the Arnauld family were the most extraordinary in-
stance of that hereditary character which is continued through cer-
tain families : here it was a subhme, and, perhaps , singular union
of learning with reUgion. The Arnaulds , Sacy, Pascal, Tillemont,
with other illustrious names , to whom literary Europe will owe
perpetual obligations , combined the life of the monastery with that
of the library.

THE PROGRESS OF OLD AGE IN NEW STUDIES.

Of the pleasures derivable from the cultivation of the arts , scien-
ces , and literature , time will not abate the growing passion ; for
old men still cherish an affection and feel a youthful enthusiasm in
those pursuits , when all others have ceased to interest. Dr. Reid ,
to his last day, retained a most active curiosity in his various stu-
dies, and particularly in the revolutions of modern chemistry. In
advanced life we may resume our former studies with a new plea-
sure , and in old age we may enjoy them with the same relish with
which more youthful students commence. Professor Dugald Stewart
tells us that Adam Smith observed to him , that " of all the amuse-
ments of old ag(; , the most grateful and soothing is a renewal of
acquaintance with the favourite studies and favourite authors of
youth — a remark, which, in his own case, seemed to be more
particularly exemijlified while he was re-perusing, with the enthu-
siasm of a student, the tragic poets of ancient Greece. I have heard
him repeat tlie observation more than once while Sophocles and
Euripides lay open on his table."

Socrates learnt (o play on musical instruments in his old age ^

THE PROGRESS OF OLD AGE. 81

Calo, at eighty, thought proper to learn Greek; and Plutarch, al-
most as late in his life, Latin.

Thcophraslus began his admirable work on the Characters of Men
at the extreme age of ninety. He only terminated his literary labours
by liis death.

Ronsard, one of the fathers of French poetry, applied himself
late to study. His acute genius, and ardent application, rivalled
those poetic models which he admired ^ and Boccaccio was lliirty-
five years of age when he commenced his studies in polite lite-
rature.

The great Arnauld retained the vigour of his genius , and the
command of his pen , to his last day ; and at the age of eigh(y-lwo
was still the great Arnauld.

Sir Henry Spelman neglected the sciences in his youth, but cul-
tivated them at fifty years of age, and produced good fruit. His early
years were chiefly passed in farming , which greatly diverted him
from his studies 5 but a remarkable disappointment respecting a con-
tested estate disgusted him with these rustic occupations ; resolved
to attach himself to regular studies , and literary society, he sold his
farms, and became the most learned antiquary and lawyer.

Colbert, the famous French minister, almost at sixty, returned to
his Latin and law studies.

Dr. Johnson applied himself to the Dutch language but a few
years before his death. The Marquis de Saint Aulaire , at the age
of seventy, began to court the Muses , and they crowned him w ith
their freshest flowers. The verses of this French Anacreon are full of
fire, delicacy, and sweetness.

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales were the composition of his latest
years : they were begun in his fifty-fourth year, and finished in his
sixty-first.

Ludovico Monaldesco, at the extraordinary age of 115, wrote the
memoirs of his times. A singular exertion, noticed by Voltaire,
who himself is one of the most remarkable instances of the progress
of age in new studies.

The most deUghlful of auto-biographies for artists is that of Ben-
venuto Cellini; a work of great originality, which was not begun till
'" the clock of his age had struck fifty-eight."

Koornhert began at forty to learn the Latin and Greek languages,
of which he became a master ; several students , w ho afterwards
distinguished themselves, have commenced as late in life their lite-
rary pursuits. Ogilby, the translator of Homer and Virgil, knew
little of Latin or Greek till he was past fifty ; and Franklin's philo-
sophical pursuits began w hen he had nearly reached his fiftieth year.

Accorso, a great lawyer, being asked why he began the study of

I. G

S2 THE PROGRESS OF OLD AGE.

the law so late, answered, that indeed he began it late, but should
therefore master it the sooner.

Dryden's complete works form the largest body of poetry from
the pen of one writer in the English language •, yet he gave no public
testimony of poetic abilities till his twenty-seventh year. In his sixty-
eighth year he proposed to translate the whole Iliad : and his most
pleasing productions were written in his old age.

Michael Angelo preserved his creative genius even in extreme old
age : there is a device said to be invented by him , of an old man
represented in a go-cart, with an hour-glass upon it ^ the inscription
Ancora imparo! — Yet I am learning !

We have a literary curiosity in a favourite treatise with Erasmus
and men of letters of that period , De Ratione Studii , by Joachim
Sterck , otherwise Fortius de Rhingelberg. The enthusiasm of the
writer often carries him to the verge of ridicule ^ but something must
be granted to his peculiar situation and feelings ; for Baillet tells us
that this method of studying had been formed entirely from his own
practical knowledge and hard experience : at a late period of life he
commenced his studies , and at length he imagined that he had dis-
covered a more perpendicular mode of ascending the hill of science
than by its usual circuitous windings. His work has been compared
to the sounding of a trumpet.

Menage, in his Anti-Baillet, has a very curious apology for writing
verses in his old age, by showing how many poets amused
(liemselves notwithstanding their grey hairs , and wrote sonnets or
epigrams at ninety.

La Casa , in one of his letters , humourously said , lo credo cliio
faro Sonnetto 'venti cinque anni, o Irenta , poi che io sard
mono. I think I may make sonnets twenty-five, or perhaps thirty
years , after I shall be dead ! Petau tells us that he wrote verses lo
solace the evils of old age —

Petavius aeger

Caotabat vcteris quacrens solatia morbi.

Malhcrbe declares the honours of genius were his , yet young —

Je les possedai jeune, et les possede eucore
A la fin de mes jours!

SPANISH POETRY.

Pei5K Rouhqurs observes , that tlie Spanish poets display an
<'\lravagant imagination , which is by no" means d(;stilule o\ esprit —
shall we say wil'J but which evinces little taste or judgment.

Their verses are much in the style of our Cowley — trivial points,

SPANISH POETRY. Pi

monstrous metaphors , and quaint conceits. It is evident thai the
Spanish poets imported this taste from the time of Marino in Italy ;
but the warmth of the Spanish climate appears to have redoubled it ,
and to have blown the kindled sparks of chimerical fancy to the heat
of a Vulcanian forg;e.

Lopes deVega, 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 , hav-
ing enclosed them in shells, it converts them into pearls."

'' Y el mar como imbid!o$()

A tierra por las lagrimas salia ,
Y alegre de cogerlas
Las guarda en conchas, y convierte enperlas."

Villegas addresses a stream — "Thou who runnest over sands of
gold , with feet of silver," more elegant than our Shakespeare's "Thy
silver skin laced with thy golden blood." Yillegas monstrously
exclaims, "Touch my breast, if you doubt the power of Lydia's
eyes — you will find it turned to ashes." Again — " Thou art so great
that thou canst only imitate thyself with thy own greatness;" much
like our " None but himself can be his parallel."

Gongora , whom the Spaniards once greatly admired , and dis-
tinguished by the epithet oiThe Wonderful , abounds with these
conceits.

He imagines that a nightingale, who enchantingly varied her
notes , and sang in different manners , had a hundred thousand other
nightingales in her breast , which alternately sang through her
throat —

" Con diferencia tal , con gracia tanta ,
A quel ruyseiior Ilora , que sospecho
Que tiene etros cien mil dentro del pecho,
Que alterao su dolor por su garganta."

Of a young and beautiful lady he says , that she has but a few
years of life , but many a^es of beauty.

" Muchos siglos de hermosura
En pocos auos de edad."

Many ages of beauty is a false thought , for beauty becomes not
more beautiful from its age ; it would be only a superannuated
beauty. A face of two or three ages old could have but few charms.

In one of his odes he addresses the River of Madrid by the title
of the D like of Streams , and the F is count of Rivers —

" Mancanares , Mancanar^ ,
Os que en todo el aguatismo ,
Estais Diique dc Arroyos,
Y Fisconde de los Rios."

84 SPANISH POETRY.

He did not venlure to call it a Spanish gra/iclee , for, in fact , it
is but a shallow and dirty stream ; and as Quevedo wittily informs ,
us " Mancanares is reduced , during the summer season , to the
melancholy condition of the wicked rich man , who asks for water
in (he depths of hell." Though so small, this stream in the time of
a flood spreads itself over the neighbouring fields •, for this reason
Philip the Second built a bridge eleven hundred feet long ! — A
Spaniard passing it one day, when it was perfectly dry, observing
this superb bridge, archly remarked, "That it would be proper
that the bridge should be sold to purchase water." — Es nienester,
vender la puente ,por comprar agua.

The following elegant translation of a Spanish madrigal of the
kind here criticised I found in a newspaper, but it si evidently by
^ master hand.

Ou the green margin of the land ,

Where Guadalhorce winds his way.

My lady lay :
W'itli golden key Sleep's gentle hand

Had closed lier eyes so bright —

Her eyes, two suns of light —

And bade his balmy dews

Her rosy cheeks suffuse.
The River God in slumber saw her laid ,

He raised his dripping head ,

With weeds o'ersprcad ,
Clad in his wat'ry robes approach'd the maid ,
And with cold kiss , like death ,

Drank the rich perfume of the maiden's breath.
The maiden felt that icy kiss

Her suns unclosed, tlteirjlame

Full and unclouded on th* intruder came.

Amazed th' intruder felt

His frothy body melt
Aiid heard the radiance on his hosom hiss ;

And , forced in blind confusion to retire ,

Leapt in the water in escape the fire.

SAINT EVREMOND.

The portrait of St. Evremond is delinoaled by his own hand.

In his day it was a literary fashion for writers to give their own
portraits; a fashion thai seems to have passed over into our country,
for Tarquhar has drawn his own character in a letter to a lady.
Others of our wrilers have given those self-miniatures. Such paint-
ers are, no doubt, great flallerers, audit is rallier llieir ingenuity,
than their truth, which wo admire in these cabinet-pictures.

" I am a philosopher, as far removed from suporslilion as from
impiety; a voluptuary, who has not less abliorronco of debauchery

SAINT EVREMOjND. 86

than inclination for pleasure; a man, who has never known want
nor abundance. I occupy that station of life which is contemned by
those who possess every thing; envied by Ihose who ha\e nothing;
and only relished by those who make their felicity consist in the
exercise of their reason. Young, I hated dissipation; convinced that
man must possess wealth to provide for the comforts of a long life.
Old , I disliked economy ; as I believe that we need not greatly dread
want, when we have but a short time to be miserable. 1 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
discover what they have ridiculous, that 1 may be amused. I. feel a
pleasure in detecting their follies ; I should feel a greater in commu-
nicating 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 memories with an endless number of things at the cost of
our judgment. I do not attach myself to the observations of scientific
men to acquire science ; but to the most rational , that I may streng-
then my reason. Sometimes, I seek for 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 constant-
ly read, I make it less my 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 asa youth w ho 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 liis bene-
volence. In the bosom of providence I find my repose , and my
felicity."

MEN OF GENIUS DEFICIENT IN CONVERSATION.

The student or the artist who may shine a luminary of learning
and of genius, in his works, is found, not rarely, to lie obscured be-
neath a heavy cloud in colloquial discourse.

If you love the man of letters , seek him in the privacies of his study.
It is in the hour of confidence and tranquillity that his genius shall
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 tlic sublime senti-
ments of the hero, had nothing in his exterior that indicated his
genius; his conversation was so insipid that it never failed of weary-
ing. Nature, who had lavished on him the gifis c»f genius, had for-
gotten to blend with (hem her more ordinary ones. He did uol even

86 MEN OF GENIUS DEFICIENT IN CONVERSATION.

speak correctly that language of which he was such a master. When
his friends represented to him how much more he might please by
not disdaining to correct these trivial errors , he would smile , and
say — '■'■J am not the less Peter Corneille ! '''

Descartes, whose habits were formed in solitude and meditation ,
was silent in mixed company; it was said that he had received his
intellectual wealth from nature in solid bars , but not in current coin ;
or as Addison expressed the same idea , by comparing himself to a
banker who possessed the wealth of his friends at home , though he
carried none of it in his pocket; or as that judicious moralist Nicotic,
one of the Port-Royal Society, said of a scintillant wit — "He con-
quers me in the drawing-room, but he surrenders to me at discre-
tion on the staircase." Such may say with Themistocles , when asked
to play on a lute, — "I cannot fiddle , but I can make a Uttle village
a great city."

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. How often, at that moment, he
laboured at some future Spectator !

Mediocrity can talk ; but it is for genius to observe.

The cynical Mandeville compared Addison , after having passed
an evening in his company, to " a silent parson in a tie-wig."

Virgil was heavy in conversation , and resembled more an or-
dinary man than an enchanting poet.

La Fontaine , says La Bruyere , appeared coarse , heavy, and
stupid ; he could not speak or describe what he had just seen ;
but when he wrote he was the model of poetry.

It is very easy, said a humorous observer on La Fontaine , to be
a man of wit , or a fool ; but to be both, and that loo in the extreme
degree, is indeed admirable, and only to be found in him. This
observation applies to that fine natural genius Goklsmilh. Chaucer
was more facetious in his tales than in his conversation , and the
Countess of Pembroke used to rally him by saying that his silence
was more agreeable to her than his conversation.

Isocrates, celebrated for his beautiful oratorical compositions,
was of so timid a disposition , that he never ventured to speak in
public. He compared himself to the whetstone which will not cut,
but enables other things to do this ; for his productions served as
models to other orators. Yaucanson was said to be as nuuh a ma-
chine as any he had made.

Dryden says of himself, — " My conversation is slow and dull, my
humour saturnine and reserved. In short, 1 am none of those who
endeavour to break jests in company, or make repartees."

VIDA. 87

VIDA.

What a consolation for an aged parent to see his cliild , by the
efforts of his own merits , attain from the humblest obscurity to dis-
tinguished eminence I What a transport for 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 sa-
tisfaction; but he is placed higher in our esteem by the present anec-
dote than even by that classic composition, which rivals the Art of
Poetry of his great master.

Jerome Vida , after having long served two Popes, at length at-
tained to the episcopacy. Arrayed in the robes of his new dignity,
he prepared to visit his aged parents , and feUcitated 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 sensibihties were
exquisitely pained. The muse dictated some elegiac verse, and in
the solemn pathos deplored the death and the disappointment of his
parents.

THE SCUDERIES.

Bienheureux Scudert, dont la fertile plume
Peut tous les mois sans peiue enfauter un volume.

BoiLEAU has written this 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 favou-
rite literature of that period, as novels are now. Our nobility not
unfrequently condescended to translate these voluminous composi-
tions.

The diminutive size of our modern novels is undoubtedly an im-
provement : but , in resembling the size of primers , it were to be
wished that their contents had also resembled their inolTensive pa-
ges. Our great grandmothers were incommoded with overgrown fo-
lios ; and , instead of finishing the eventful history of two lovers at
one or two sittings , it was sometimes six months , including
Suyidays, before they could get quit of their Clelias , their Cyrus's,
and Parthenissas.

Mademoiselle Scudery had composed ninety volumes! She had
even finished another romance , which she would not give the pub-
lic , whose taste , she perceived , no more relislied this kind of
w orks. She was one of those unfortunate authors w ho, living to more
than ninety years of age, survive their own celebrity.

She had her panegyrists in her day : Menage observes , What a.

88 THE SCUDERIES.

pleasing description has Mademoiselle Scudeiy made, in her Cyrus,
of the little court at Rambouillet ! A thousand things in the roman-
ces of this learned l^ady render them inestimable. She has drawn
from the ancients their happiest passages , and has even improved
upon them 5 like the prince in the fable , whatever she touches be-
comes gold. We may read her works with great profit , if we pos-
sess a correct tasle , and love instruction. Those who censure their
length only show the littleness of their judgment ^ as if Homer and
Yirgil 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 a species of the epic opem. 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 termi-
nate too soon to display 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 produc-
tions. Some expressions , and certain turns , 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. The curious
only look over her romances. They contain doubtless many beauti-
ful inventions ; the misfortune is , that time and patience are rare
requisites for the enjoyment of these Iliads in prose.

" The misfortune of her having written loo abundantly has occa-
sioned an unjust contempt," says a French critic. "We confess
there are many heavy and tedious passages in her voluminous ro-
mances ; but if we consider that in the Clelia and the Artamenes are
to be found inimitable delicate touches , and many splendid parts
which w ould do honour to some of our living writers , we must
acknowledge that Ihe great defects of all her works arise from her
not writing in an age when taste had reached the acme of cultiva-
tion. Such is her erudition, that the French place her next to the
celebrated Bladame Bacier. Her works , containing many secret in-
trigues of the court and city, her readers must have keenly relished
on their early publication."

Her Artamenes, or the Great Cyrus, and principally her Clelia,
arc; representations of wliat then jjassed at the court of France. The
Map of the Kingdom of Tenderness , in Clelia, appeared, at the
lime, as one of the ha[)piest inventions. This once celebrated map
is an allegory which distinguishes the different kinds ofTEiNDKRiNESs,
which are reduced to Esteem, Gratitude , and Inclination. The

THE SCUDERIES. sn

map represSits three rivers, ^vhich have Ihesc Ihrec names, and on
which are situated three towns called Tenderness : Tenderness on
Inclination; Tenderness on Esteem-, and Tenderness on Grati-
tude. Pleasing Attentions, or Petits Soins, is Avillnge very beau-
tifully situated. Mademoiselle de Scudery was extremely proud of
this little alIe|;!;orical map; and had a terrible controversy with another
writer about its originality.

George Scudery, her brother, and inferior in genius, had a
striking singularity of character : — he was one of the most com-
plete votaries to the universal divinity of Vanity. Willi a healed ima-
gination , entirely destitute of judgment , his miUtary character was
continually exhibiting itself by that peaceful instrument the pen, so
that he exhibits a most amusing conlrast of ardent feelings in a cool
situation; not liberally endowed wilh genius, but abounding with
its semblance in the fire of eccentric gasconade ; no man has pour-
tray ed his own character with a bolder colouring than himself in his
numerous prefaces and addresses ; surrounded by a thousand self-
illusions of the most sublime class , every thing that related to him-
self had an Homeric grandeur of conception.

In an epistle to the Duke of Montmorency, he says, " I will learn
to write w ith my left hand , that my right hand may more nobly be
devoted to your service •," and alluding to his pen (plume), declares
" he comes from a family who never used one, ibut to stick in
their hats." When he solicits small favours from the great, he as-
sures them " that princes must not think him importunate, and
that his writings are merely inspired by his own individual interest ;
no! (he exclaims) I am studious only of your glory, while I am
careless of my own fortune." And indeed, to do him justice, he acted
up to these romantic feelings. After he had published his epic of
Alaric , Christina of Sw eden proposed to honour him with a chain
of gold of the value of five hundred pounds , provided he would
expunge from his epic the eulogiums he bestowed on the Count of
Gardie, whom she had disgraced. The epical soul of Scudery mag-
nanimously scorned the bribe, and replied, that " If the chain of
gold should be as weighty as that chain mentioned in the history
of the Incas , I w ill never destroy any altar on which I have sa-
crificed ! "

Proud of his boasted nobility and erratic life , he thus addresses
the reader : "• You will lightly pass over any faults in my work, if
you reflect that I have employed the greater part of my life in
seeing the finest parts of Europe , and that I have passed more days
in the camp than in the library. I have used more matches to light
my musket than to light my candles; I know better to arrange
columns in the field than those on paper ; and to square battalions

90 THE SCUDERIES.

better than to round periods. " In his flrst publication, he began
his Hlerary career perfectly in character, by a challenge to his
critics !

He is the author of sixteen plays , chiefly heroic tragedies ^ chil-
dren who all bear the features of their father. He first introduced
in his " L' Amour Tyrannique " a strict observance of the Aristo-
telian unities of time and place ^ and the necessity and advantages of
this regulation are insisted on , which only shows that Aristotle's
art goes but little to the composition of a pathetic tragedy. In his
last drama , " Arminius, " he extravagantly scatters his panegyrics
on its fifteen predecessors ; but of the present one he has the most
exalted notion : it is the quintessence of Scudery ! An ingenious
critic calls it " The downfal of mediocrity ! " It is amusing to listen
to this blazing preface — "At length, reader, nothing remains for
me but to mention the great Arminius which I now present to you,
and by which I have resolved to close my long and laborious course.
It is indeed my master-piece ! and the most finished work that ever
came from my pen 5 for whether we examine the fable , the man-
ners , the sentiments , or the versification , it is certain that I
never performed any thing so just , so great, nor more beautiful ^
and if my labours could ever deserve a crown , I would claim it
for this work I "

The actions of this singular personage were in unison with his
writings : he gives a pompous description of a most unimportant
government which he obtained near Marseilles , but all the gran-
deur existed only in our author's heated imagination. Bachaumonl
and De la Chapelle describe it , in their playful ''• Voyage ; "

Mais il faut vous parler du fort
Qui sans doute est une merveille ;
C'est Notre-Damc de la Garde!
Gouvernement commode et beau ,
A qui suffit, pour tout garde,
Uu Suisse avec sa liallebarde
Peiut sur la porte du chateau !

A fort very connnodiously guarded ; only requiring one sentinel
with his halbert — painted on the door !

In a poem on his disgust with Ihe world , he tells us how intimate
he has been with i)rinces : Europe has known him through all her
provinces ; he ventured every thing in a thousand combats :

L'ou me vit obeir. Ton mc vit commander,

Et mon poil tout poudreux a blauchi sous les armcs ;

II est pcu de beaux arts ou je ne sois instruit;

V-n prose et en vers, luou uom fit quclque bruit;

lit par pbjs d'un cliomiu je parvius a la gloire.

THE SCUDERIES. -M

IMITATED.

Princes were prond my frlendsLip to proclaim ,
And Europe gazed , where'er her Hero cume !
I grasp'd the laurels of heroic strife.
The tliousand perils of a soldier's life;
Obedient in the ranks each toilful day !
Though heroes soon command, they first obey.
'Twas not for me , too long a time to yield !
Born for a chieftain in the tented field!
Around my plumed helm, my silvery hair
Hung like an honour'd wreath of age and care !
The finer arts have charm'd my studious hours.
Versed in their mysteries , skilful in their powers
In verse and prose my equal genius glow'd.
Pursuing glory by no single road!

Such was the vain George Scudery I whose heart , liowever, was
warm •, poverty could never degrade him ; adversity never broke
down his magnanimous spirit I

DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT.

The maxims of this noble author are in the hands of every one.
To those who choose to derive every motive and every action from
tlie solitary principle of self-love, they are inestimable. They form
one continued satire on human nature \ but they are not reconci-
lable to the feelings of the man of better sympathies , or to him who
passes through life with the firm integrity of virtue. Even at court
wc find a Sully, a Malesherbes , and a Clarendon, as well as a
Rochefoucault and a Chesterfield.

The Duke de la Rochefoucault , says Segrais , had not studied ^
but he w as endow ed w ith a w onderful degree of discernment , and
knew the world perfectly well. This 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.

It is perhaps worthy of observation that this celebrated French
duke could never summon resolution , at his election , to address
the academy. Although chosen a member, he never entered ; for
such was his timidity, that he could not face an audience and deliver
the usual compliment on his introduction ; he whose courage ,
whose birth , and whose genius , were alike distinguished. The
fact is , as appears by Mad. de Sevigne , that Rochefoucault lived
a close domestic life ; there must be at least as much theoretical
as practical knowledge in the opinions of such a retired philo-
sopher.

92 DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT.

Chesterfield, our English Rochcfoucault , we are also iiiforined ,
possessed an admirable knowledge of Ihe heart of man ; and he too
has drawn a similar picture of human nature I These are tw o noble
authors whose chief studies seem to have been made in courts. May
it not be possible, allowing these authors not to have written a
sentence of aprocripha , that the fault lies not so much in human
nature as in the satellites of Power breathing their corrupt
atmosphere ?

PRIOR'S HANS CARVEL.

Were wc to investigate the genealogy of our best modern sto-
ries, we should often discover the illegitimacy of our favourites;
and retrace them frequently to the East. My well-read friend ,
Mr. Douce , has collected materials for such a w ork ; but his mo-
desty has too long prevented him from receiving the gratitude of
the curious in literature.

The story of the ring of Hans Carvel is of \ery ancient standing ,
as are most of the tales of this kind.

Menage says that Poggius, who died in 1459, has the merit of
its invention; but I suspect he only related a very popular story.

Rabelais , w ho has given it in his peculiar manner, changed its
original name of Philephus to that of Hans Carvel.

This title is likewise in the eleventh of Les Cent Nouvelles
lYoiwelles collected in 1461, for the amusement of Louis XI. when
Dauphin , and living in solitude.

Ariosto has borrowed it, at the end of his fifth Satire; but has
fairly appropriated it by his pleasant manner.

In a collection of novels at I^yons, in 1555, it is introduced into
the eleventh novel.

Celio Malespini has it again in page 288 of the second part of his
Two Hundred Novels, printed at Venice in 1609.

Fontaine has prettily set it off, and an anonymous writer has
composed it in Latin Anacreontic verses; and at length our Prior
has given it in his best manner, with equal gaiety and freedom.
After Ariosto , La Fontaine , and Prior, let us hear of it no more ;
yet this has been done, in a manner, however, which here cannot
be told.

Voltaire has a curious essay to show that most of our best mo-
dern stories and plols originally belonged to the eastern nations , a
fact which has been made more evident by recent researches. The
Ampliitrion of Moiii'Tc was an imitation of Plauhis, who borrowed
it fronj tlu^ Greeks, and they took it from tlie Indians! It is given
by Dow in his History of Hindostan. In Captain Scott's Tales and

PRIOR'S HANS CARVEL. 93

Anecdotes from Arabian wrilcrs , we arc surprised at finding so
many of our favourites very ancient orientalists. — The Ephesian
Matron, versified by La Fontaine , was borrowed from the Italians;
it is to be found in Petronius, and Petronius had it from the Greeks.
But where did the Greeks find it? In the Arabian Tales! And from
whence did the Arabian fabulists borrow it? From the Chinese I It
is found in Duj Haldc , w ho collected it from the Versions of the
Jesuits.

THE STUDENT IN THE METROPOLIS.

A MAN of letters , more intent on the acquisitions of literature
than on the intrigues of politics , or the speculations of commerce ,
may find a deeper solitude in a populous metropolis than in the
seclusion of the country.

The student , who is no flatterer of the little passions of men, will
not be much incommoded by their presence. Gibbon paints his own
situation in the heart of the fashionable world. — " I had not been
endowed by art or nature with those happy gifts of confidence and
address which unlock every door and every bosom. While coaches
were rattling through Bond-street , I have passed many a solitary
evening in my lodging with my books. I withdrew without reluc-
tance from the noisy and extensive scene of crowds without com-
pany, and dissipation without pleasure." And even after he had
published the first volume of his History, he observes that in Lon-
don his confinement was solitary and sad ; " the many forgot my
existence when they saw me no longer at Brookes's , and the few
who sometimes had a thought on their friend were detained by bu-
siness or pleasure , and I w as proud and happy if I could prevail on
my bookseller, Elmsly, to enliven the dulness of the evening,".

A situation , very elegantly described in the beautifully polished
verses of Mr. Rogers, in his " Epistle to a Friend : "

When from his classic dreams the student steals
Amid the buz of crowds, the whirl of wl)eels.
To rause unnoticed, wliile around him press
Tlie meteor-forms of equipage and dress;
Alone in wonder lost , he seems to stand
A very stranger in his native land.

He compares the student to one of the seven sleepers in tiie an-
cient legend.

Descartes residing in the commercial city of Amsterdam writing
to Balzac, illustrates these descriptions w i(h great force and vivacity.

" You wish to retire 5 and your intention is to seek the solitude of
the Chartreux , or. possibly, some of the most beautiful provinces of

94 THE STUDENT IN THE METROPOLIS.

France and Italy. I would rathor advise you , if you wish lo observe
mankind , and at the same time to lose yourself in Uie deepest soli-
tude , 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 visiters 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 im-
pression on my mind as would the trees of your forest , or the flocks
of sheep grazing on your common. The busy hum too of these mer-
chants docs not disturb one more than the purling of your brooks.
Tf 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 contemplate with delight the fruits of your orchards ,
with all the rich promises of abundance , 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?"

THE TALMUD.

The Jews have their Talmud •, the Catholics their Legends of
Saints ; and the Turks their Sonnah. The Protestant has nothing
but his Bible. The former are three kindred works. Men have ima-
gined that the more there is to be believed , the more arc the merits
of the believer. Hence all trnditionists formed the orthodox and the
strongest party. The word of God is lost amidst those heaps of hu-
man inventions , sanctioned by an order of men connected with re-
ligious duties ; they ought now, however, to be regarded rather as
Curiosities of Literature. I give a sufficiently ample account of
the Talmud and the Legends ; but of the Sonnah I only know that
it is a collection of the traditional opinions of the Turkish prophets,
directing the observance of petty superstitions not mentioned in the
Koran.

The Talmud is a collection of Jewish traditions which have been
orally preserved. It comprises the Mishna , which is the text ; and
the Gemara its commentary. The whole forms a complete system
of the learning, ceremonies, civil, and canon laws of the .Tews;

THE TALMUD. 95

Ireating indeed on all subjects 5 even gardening , manual arts , elc.
The rigid Jews persuaded themselves that these traditional explica-
tions are of divine origin. The Pentateuch , say they, was written out
by their legislator before his death in thirteen copies , distributed
among the twelve tribes, and the remaining one deposited in the ark.
The oral law Moses continually taught in the Sanhedrim, to the eld-
ers and the rest of the people. The law was repealed four limes ;
but the interpretation was delivered only by woj-d of mouth from
generation to generation. In the fortieth year of the flight from
Egypt the memory of the people became treacherous, and Moses was
constrained to repeat his oral law, w hich had been conveyed by suc-
cessive traditionists . Such is the account of honest David Levi : it is
the creed of every rabbin. — David believed in every thing , but in
Jesus.

This history of the Talmud some inclined to suppose apocryphal,
even among a few of the Jews themselves. When these traditions
first appeared , the keenest controversy has never been able to deter-
mine. It cannot be denied that there existed traditions among the
.lews in the times of Jesus Christ. About the second century they were
industriously collected by Rabbi Juda the Holy, the prince of the
rabbins , who enjoyed the favour of Antoninus Pius. He has the
merit of giving some order to this multifarious collection.

It appears that the Talmud was compiled by certain Jewish doc-
tors, who were solicited for this purpose by their nation, that they
might have something to oppose to their Christian adversaries.

The learned W. Wotton , in his curious " Discourses" on the tra-
ditions of the Scribes and Pharisees, supplies an analysis of this vast
collection •, he has translated entire two divisions of this code of tra-
ditional laws with the original text and the notes.

There are two Talmuds : the Jerusalem and the Babylonian. The
last is the most esteemed, because it is the most bulky.

R. Juda , the prince of the rabbins , committed to writing all these
traditions , and arranged them under six general heads , called or-
ders or classes. The subjects are indeed curious for philosophical
inquirers , and multifarious as the events of civil life. Every order
is formed of treatises : every treatise is divided into chapters, every
chapter mio mishnas , which word means mixtures or miscellanies,
in the form of aphorisms. In the first part is discussed what relates
to seeds , fruits , and trees; in the second , feasts : in the third
women, their duties, their disorders, marriages , divorces,
contracts , and nuptials : in the fourth , are treated the damages or
losses sustained by beasts or men; o{ things found; deposits; usu-
ries; rents; farms; partnerships in commerce; inheritance^
sales and purchases; oaths; witnesses; arrests; idolatry ; and

96 THE TALMUD,

here are named those by whom Uie oral law was received and pre-
served. In the fifth part are noticed sacrifices and holy things : and
the sixth treats of purifications ,• uessels ; furniture ,• clothes ;
houses; leprosy; baths ; and numerous other articles. All this forms
the MiSHNA.

The Gemara, that is , the complement , or perfection, contains
the Disputes ond the Opinions of the Rabbins on the oral tradi-
tions. Their last decisions. It must be confessed that absurdities are
sometimes elucidated by other absurdities ; but there are many ad-
mirable things in this vast repository. The Jews have such venera-
tion for this compilation , that they compare the holy writings to
water, and the Talmud to wine; the text of Moses [o pepper, but
the Talmud to aromatics. Of the twelve hours of which the day is
composed, they tell us that Go<^Z employs nine to study the Talmud,
and only three to read the written law !

St. Jerome appears evidently to allude to this work, and notices
its ■•' Old Wives' Tales ," and the filthiness of some of its matters. The
truth is , that (he rabbins resembled the Jesuits and Casuists 5 and
Sanchez's work on '" Matrimonio''' is well known to agitate mat-
ters w ith such scrupulous niceties , as to become the most offensive
thing possible. But as among the schoolmen and the casuists there
have been great men , the same happened to these Gemaraists. Mai-
monides was a pillar of hght among their darkness. The antiquity of
this work is of itself suflicient to make it very curious.

A specimen of the topics may be shown from the table and con-
tents of " Mishnic Titles." In the order of seeds, we find the fol-
lowing heads, which present no uninteresting picture of the pastoral
and pious ceremonies of the ancient Jews.

The Mishna entitled the Corner, i. e. of the field. The laws of
gleaning are commanded according to Leviticus ; \ix. 9, 10. Of the
corner to be left in a cornfield. When the corner is due and wlien
not. Of the forgotten sheaf. Of the ears of corn left in gathering. Of
grapes left upon the vines. Of olives left upon the trees.j When and
where the poor may lawfully glean. What sheaf, or olives, or grapes,
may be looked upon to be forgotten , and what not. Who are the
proi)er witnesses concerning the poor's due , to exempt it from ti-
thing, etc. The distinguished uncircumcised fruit : — it is unlawful
to eat of the fruit of any tree till the fifth year of its growth : the
first three years of its bearing, it is called uncircumcised^ the fourth
is olTered to God ; and the fifth may be eaten.

The jMishna, entitled Jlclcrogeneous Mixtures, contains se-
veral (curious horlicullural particulars. Of divisions between giirden-
beds and fields , that the produce of the several sorts of grains or
seeds may appear distinct. Of the distance between every species.

THE TALMUD. 97

Distances between vines planted in corn-fields from one another and
from the corn ; between vines planted ajiainst hedges , w alls , or
espaliers, and any thing sowed near them. A arious cases relating to
vineyards planted near, any forbidden seeds.

In their seventh ,. or sabbatical year, in which the produce of all
estates was given up to the poor, one of these regulations is on llie
different work which must not be omitted in the sixth year, lest (be-
cause the seventh being devoted to the poor) the produce should be
unfairly diminished , and the public benefit arising from this law be
frustrated. Of whatever is not perennial , and produced that year by
the earth, no money may be made; but what is perennial may be
sold.

On priest's tithes, we have a regulation concerning eating the
fruits carried to the place where they arc to be separated.

The order of women is very copious. A husband is obliged to
forbid his wife to keep a particular man-s company before two
witnesses. Of the w aters of jealousy by w hich a suspected woman is
to be tried by drinking , we find many ample particulars. The cere-
monies of clothing the accused woman at her trial. Pregnant women ,
or who suckle, are not obliged to drink; for the rabbins seem to be
well convinced of the effects of the imagination. Of their divorces
ipany are the law s ; and care is taken to particularise bills of di-
vorces written by men in delirium or dangerously ill. One party of
the rabbins w ill not allow of any divorce , unless something light
was found in the woman's character, while another (the Pharisees)
allow divorces even when a w oman has only been so unfortunate as
to suffer her husband's soup to be burnt !

In the order of damages , containing rules how to tax the da-
mages done by man or beast, or other casualties , their distinctions
are as nice as their cases are numerous. What beasts are innocent
and what convict. By the onethey mean creatures not naturally used
to do mischief in any particular way ; and by the other, those that
naturally, or by a vicious habit, are mischievous that way. The tooth
of a beast is ^onvict, when it is proved to eat its usual food, the pro-
perty of another man ; and full restitution must be made ; but if a
beast that is used to eat fruits and herbs gnaws clothes or damages
tools , which are not its usual food, the owner of the beast shall pay
but half the damage when committed on the property of the injured
person •, but if the injury is committed on the property of the person
who does the damage, he is free, because the beast gnawed what
was not its usual food. As thus; if the beast of A. gnaws or tears the
clothes of B. in IVs house or grounds , A. shall pay half the damages ^
but if B.'s clothes are injured in A.'s grounds by A.'s beast, A. is
free, for what had B. to do to put his clothes in A's grounds? They

I. 7

OS THE TALMUD.

made such subtile dislinclions, as when an ox gores a man or beast,
the law inquired into the habits of the beast-, whether it was an ox
that used to gore, or an ox that was not used to gore. However acute
these niceties sometimes were, they were often ridiculous. No beast
could be convicted of being vicious till evidence was given that he
had done mischief three successive days \ but if he leaves off those
vicious tricks for three days more , he is innocent again . An ox may
be convict of goring an ox and not a man, or of goring a man and
not an ox : nay, of goring on the sabbath, and not on a working day.
Their aim was to make the punishment depend on the proofs of the
design of the beast that did the injury ; but this attempt evidently
led them to distinctions much too subtile and obscure. Thus some
rabbins say that the morning prayer of the Shemdii must be read
at the time they can distinguish hlae from white; but another, more
indulgent , insists it may be when we can distinguish blue from
green! which latter colours are so near akin as to require a stronger
light. With the same remarkable acuteness in distinguishing things,
is their law respecting not touching fire on the Sabbath. Among
those which are specified in this constitution , the rabbins allow the
minister to look over young children by lamp-light, but he shall
not read himself. The minister is forbidden to read by lamp-light ,
lest he should trim his lamp; but he may direct the children whei:e
they should read, because that is quickly done, and there would be
no danger of his trimming his lamp in their presence, or suffering
any of them to do it in his. All these regulations , which some may
conceive as minute and frivolous, show a great intimacy with the
human heart , and a spirit of profound observation which had been
capable of achieving great purposes.

The owner of an innocent beast only pays half the costs for the
mischief incurred. Man is always convict, and for all mischief he
does he must pay full costs. However there are casual damages, —
as when a man pours water accidentally on another man ; or niakes
a thorn-hedge which annoys his neighbour; or falling down, and
another by stumbling on him incurs harm : how sucji compensa-
tions arc to be made. He that has a vessel of another's in keeping,
and removes it, but in the removal breaks it, nuist swear to his own
iiitcgrity ; i. e. that he had no design to break it. All offensive or
noisy trades were to be carried on at a certain distance from a town.
Where there is an estate , the sons inherit and the daughters are
maintained; but if there is not enough for all, the daughters are
niiunlaincd, and the sons nmstget their living as they can , or even
l)eg. The contrary to this excellent ordination has been observed in
Europe.

These few litlcs may enable the reader lo form a general notion

THE TALMUD. S9

of the several subjects on which the Mishna treats. The Gemara or
Commentary is often overloaded w ilii ineptitudes and ridiculous sub-
tilties. For instance, in the article of "■ Negative Oaths." If a man
swears he will eat no bread , and does eat all sorts of bread , in that
case the perjury is but one ; but if he swears that he will eat neither
barley, nor wheaten , nor rye-bread , the perjury is multiplied as
he multiplies his eating of the several sorts. — Again , the Pharisees
and the Sadducees had strong differences about touching the holy
writings with their hands. The doctors ordained that whoever
touched the book of the law must not eat of the truma ( first fruits of
the wrought produce of the ground), till they had washed their
hands. The reason they gave was this. In times of persecution they
used to hide those sacred books in secret places , and good men
would lay them out of the way when they had done reading them.
It was possible then that these rolls of the law might be gnawed by
mice. The hands then that touched these books when they took
them out of the places where they had laid them up were supposed
to be unclean , so far as to disable them from eating the truma till
they were washed. On that account they made this a general rule,
that if any part of the Bible (except Ecclesiastes , because that
excellent book their sagacity accounted less holy than the rest) or
their phylacteries , or the strings of their phylacteries , were touched
by one w ho had a right to eat the truma , he might not eat it till he
had washed his hands. An evidence of that superstitious trilling for
which the Pharisees and the later Rabbins have been so justly repro-
bated.

They were absurdly minute in the literal observance of their
vows, and as shamefully subtile in their artful evasion of them.
The Pharisees could be easy enough to themselves when conve-
nient, and always as hard and unrelenting as possible to all others.
They quibbled , and dissolved their vows with experienced ca-
suistry. Jesus reproaches the Pharisees in Matthew xv. and Mark vii..
for flagrantly violating the fifth commandment, by allowing the
vow of a son , perhaps made in hasty anger, its full force , when he
had sworn that his father should never be the belter for him, or any
thing he had, and by which an indigent father might be suffered to
starve. There is an express case to this purpose in the Mishna, in
the title of Fcrws. The reader may be amused by the story : — A
man made a vow that his fathei- should not profit by him. This
man afterwards made a wedding-feast for his own son , and wishes
his father should be present^ but he cannot invite him because he
is tied up by his vow. He invented this expedient : — He makes a
gift of the court in which the feast was to be kept, and of tlie feast
itself, to a third person in trust, that his father should be invited

100 THE TALMUD.

by thai third person , with the other company whom he at first de-
signed. This first person then says, — If these things you thus have
given me are mine, I will dedicate them to God, and then none of
you can be the better for them. The son repUed, — 1 did not give
them to you that you should consecrate them. Then the third man
said , — Yours was no donation , only you were willing to eat and
drink with your father. Thus, says R. Juda, they dissolved eacli
other's intentions •, and when the case came before the rabbins , they
decreed , that a gift which may not be consecrated by the person to
whom it is given is not a gift.

The following extract from the Talmud exhibits a subtile mode
of reasoning , which the Jews adopted when the learned of Rome
sought to persuade them to conform to their idolatry. It forms an
entire Mishna , entilled Seder Nezikhij, AvodaZara, iv. 7. on ido-
latrous worship, translated by Wotton.

" Some Roman senators examined the Jews in this manner : — If
God hath no delight in the worship of idols , why did he not destroy
them? The Jews made answer, — If men had worshipped only things
of which the world had had no need , he would have destroyed the
object of their worship; but they also worship the sun and moon,
stars and planets 5 and then he must have destroyed his world for
Ihe sake of these deluded men. But still, said the Romans, why
does not God destroy the things which the world does not want,
and leave those things which the world cannot be without? Because ,
replied the Jews, this would strengthen the hands of such as wor-
ship these necessary things, who would then say, — Ye allow now
that these are gods, since they are not destroyed."

RABBINICAL STORIES.

The preceding article furnishes some of the more serious inves-
tigations to be found in the Talmud. Its levities may amuse. I leave
untouched the gross obscenities and immoral decisions. The Talmud
contains a vast collection of stories , apologues , and jests ; many dis-
|)lay a vein of pleasantry, and at times have a wildncss of invention
which sufllcienlly mark the features of an eastern parent. Many ex-
travagantly puerile were designed merely to recreate their young
students. When a rabbin was asked the reason of so nnich nonsense,
lie replied that (he ancients had a custom of introducing nujsic in
Mieir lectures, whi(;h accompaniment made th(Mn more agreeable;
bill that not having musical instruments in the schools, the rabbins
invented these strange stories to arouse attention. This was inge-
niously said, but th(^y make miserable work when (hey pretend to
give mystical inlerpretations to pure nonsense.

RABBINICAL SrOIlIES. fOI

In 1711, a Gorman professor of the Oriental languages, Dr.
Eisenmengcr, published in (wo large volumes quarto his "'Judaism
discovered," a ponderous labour, of which the scope was to ridi-
cule the Jewish traditions.

I shall give a dangerous adventure into which King David was
drawn by the devil. The king one day hunting, Satan appeared
before him in the likeness of a roc. David discharged an arrow at
him, but missed his aim. He pursued tlic feigned roe into the land
of the Philistines. Ishbi, the brother of Goliath, instantly recognised
the king as him who had slain that giant. He bound him, and bend-
ing him neck and heels, laid him under a wine-press in order to
press him to death. A miracle saves David. The* earth beneath him
became soft, and Ishbi could not press wine oul<of him. That even-
ing in the Jewish congregation a dove, whose wings were covered
with silver, appeared in great perplexity •, and evidently signified the
king of Israel was in trouble. Abishai , one of the king's counsellors ,
inquiring for the king, and finding him absent, is at a loss to pro-
ceed, for according to the Mishna, no one may ride on the king s*
horse, nor sit upon his tiirone, nor use his sceptre. The school of
the rabbins, however, allowed these things in time of danger. On
this Abishai vaults on David's horse, (with an Oriental metaphor)
the land of the Philistines leaped to him instantly I Arrived at Ishbi's
house, he beholds his mother Orpa spinning. Perceiving the Israe-
lite, she snatched up her spinning-wheel and threw it at him, to
kill him ; but not hitting him , she desired him to bring the spin-
ning-wheel to her. He did not do this exactly, but returned it to
her in such a way that she never asked any more for her spinning-
wheel. When Ishbi saw this, and recoUeeling that David, though
tied up neck and heels, was still under the wine-press, he cried
out, "There are now two who will destroy me ! " So he threw David
high up into the air, and stuck his spear into the ground, imagin-
ing that David would fall upon it and perish. But Abishai pronoun-
ced the magical name , which the Talmudists frequently make use
of, and it caused David to hover between earth and heaven, so that
he fell not down I Both at length unite against Ishbi , and observing
that two young lions should kill one lion , find no difliculty in get-
ting rid of the brother of Goliath.

Of Solomon, another favourite hero of the Talmudists, a fine
Arabian story is told. This king was an adept in necromancy, and
a male and a female devil were always in waiting for any emergency.
It is observable, that the Arabians, who have many stories concern-
ing Solomon, always describe him as a magician. His adventures
with Aschmedai, the prince of devils, are numerous; and they botli
( the king and the devil ) served one another many a slippery trick ,

i02 RABBINICAL STORIES.

One of the most remarkable is when Aschmedai , wlio was prisoner
to Solomon , the king having contrived to possess himself of the
devil's seal-ring, and chained him , one day offered to answer an
unholy question put to him hy Solomon , provided he returned him
his seal-ring and loosened his chain. The impertinent curiosity of
Solomon induced him to commit this folly. Instantly Aschmedai
swallowed the monarch ; and stretching out his wings up to the
firmament of heaven , one of his feet remaining on the earth , he
spit out Solomon four hundred leagues from him. This was done so
privately that no one knew any thing of the matter. Aschmedai then
assumed the likeness of Solomon, and sat on his throne. From that
hour did Solomon say, '■'•This then is the reward of all my labour,"
according to Eccl^iasticus , i. 3.; which this means, one rabbin
says, his walkingstaff ; and another insists was his ragged coat. For
Solomon went a begging from door to door; and wherever he came
he uttered these words : " I, the preacher, was king over Israel in
Jerusalem." At length coming before the council, and still repealing
'these remarkable words, without addition or variation , the rabbins
said, "This means something: for a fool is not constant in his
tale! " They asked the chamberlain if the king frequently saw him?
and he replied to them , No ! Then tliey sent to the queens , to ask
if the king came into their apartments? and they answered, Yes!
The rabbins then sent them a message to take notice of his feet ; for
the feet of devils are like the feet of cocks. The queens acquainted
them that his majesty always came in slippers , but forced them to
embrace at times forbidden by the law. He had attempted to lie with
his mother Bathsheba, whom he had almost torn to pieces. At this
the rabbins assembled in great haste , and taking the beggar with
them , they gave him the ring and the chain in which the great
magical name was engraven, and led him to the palace. Aschmedai
was sitting on the throne as the real Solomon entered; but instantly
he shrieked and flew away. Yet to his last day was Solomon afraid
of the prince of devils , and had his bed guarded by the vahant men
of Israel, as is written in Cant. iii. 7, 8.

They frequently display nmch humour in their inventions, as in
the following account of the manners and morals of an infamous
town which mocked at all justice. There were in Sodom four judges,
who were liars, and deriders of justice. When any one had struck
his neighbour's wife and caused her to miscarry, these judges thus
counselled the husband ; " Give her to tiie ofl^ender, that he may get
her with child for thee." AVhcn any one had cut olT an ear of his
n(;ighbour's ass, they said to W\(\ owner: — "Let him have the ass
till the ear is growrj again , that it may be returned to thee as thou
wishest. ' When any one had wounded his neighbour, they told the

RABBITSICAL STORIES. 103

wounded man to " give him a fee for letting him blood/' A toll was
exacted in passing a certain bridge; but if any one chose to wadi'
through the water, orwalk round about to save it, he was condemned
to a double toll. Eleasar, jVbrahanrs servant, came thither, and they
wounded him. — When before the judge he was ordered to pay his
fee for having his blood let, Eleasar flung a stone at the judge and
wounded him-, on which the judge said to him, — What meaneth
this? Eleasar replied, — -' Give him Avho wounded me the fee that is
due to myself for wounding thee." The people of !his town had a
bedstead on which they laid travellers who asked to rest. If any one
was too long for it, they cut off his legs ; and if he was shorter than
the bedstead, they strained him to its head and fool. Wh^i a beggar
came to this town , every one gave him a penny, on which was
inscribed the donor's name ; but they would sell him no bread , nor
let him escape. When the beggar died frotn hunger, (hen they came
about him, and each man took back his penny. These stories are
curious inventions of keen mockery and malice , seasoned w ith hu-
mour. It is said some of the famous decisions of Sancho Panzu are to
be found in the Talnuid.

Abraham is said (o have been jealous of his wives, and built an
enchanted city for them. He built an iron city and put them in. —
The walls were so high and dark, the sun could not be seen in it.
He gave them a bowl lull of pearls and jewels , which sent forth a
light in this dark city equal to the sun. Noah, it seems, when in the
ark had no other light than jewels and pearls. Abraham in travelling
to Egypt brought with him a chest. At the custom-house the officers
exacted the duties. Abraham would have readily paid, but desired
they would not open the chest. They first insisted on the duty for
clothes, which Abraham consented to pay •, but then they thought
by his ready acquiescence that it might be gold. — Abraham consents
to pay for gold. They now suspected it might be silk. Abraham was
willing to pay for silk, or more costly pearls 5 and Abraham gene-
rously consented to pay as if the chest contained the most valuable
of things. It was then they resolved to open and examine the chest.
And behold as soon as that chest was opened , that great lustre of
human beauty broke out which made such a noise in the land of
Egypt; it was Sarah herself I The jealous Abraham, to conceal her
beauty, had locked her up in this chest.

The whole creation in these rabbinical f.mcies is strangely gigan-
tic and vast. The works of eastern nations are full of these descrip-
tions 5 and Hesiod's Theogony, and Milton's battles of angels , are
puny in comparison with these rabbinical heroes, or rabbinical
things. Mountains are hurled with all their woods with great ease ,
and creatures start into existence too terrible for our conceptions.

'04 RABBINICAL .STORIES.

The winged monster in the " Arabian Nights," called the Roc, is
evidently one of the creatures of rabbinical fancy 5 it would some-
times , when very hungry , seize and fly away with an elephant.
Captain Cook found a bird's nest in an island near New Holland,
built with stickson the ground, six-and-twenty feet in circumference,
and near three feet in height. But of the rabbinical birds, fish, and
animals , it is not probable any circumnavigator will ever trace even
the slightest vestige or resemblance.

One of their birds, when it spreads its wings, blots out the sun.
An egg from another fell out of its nest, and the white thereof broke
and glued about three hundred cedar-trees , and overflowed a vil-
lage. One ^f them stands up to the lower joint of the leg in a river,
and some mariners imagining the w .tcr was not deep, were hasten-
ing to bathe , when a voice from heaven said : — " Step not in there ,
for seven years ago there a carpenter dropped his axe , and it hath
not yet reached the bottom."

The following passage concerning fat geese is perfectly in the
style of these rabbins. " A rabbin once saw in a desert a flock of geese
so fat that their feathers fell oft", and the rivers flowed in ftit. Then
s id I to them , shall we have part of you in the other world when
the Messiah shall come? And one of them lifted up a wing, and
another a leg , to signify these parts we should have. We should
otherwise have h d all parts of these geese •, but we Israelites shall
be called to an account touching these fat geese, because their suf-
ferings are owing to us. It is our iniquities that have delayed the
coming of the Messiah , and these geese suffer greatly by reason of
their excessive fat, which daily and daily increases , and will increase
till the Messiah comes I "

What the manna was which fell in the wilderness has often
been disputed , and still is disputable ; it was sufficient for the rabbins
to have found in the Bible that Ihc taste of it was " as a wafer made
with honey," to have. raised their fancy to its pitch. They declare it
was " like oil to children , honey to old men , and cakes to middle
age." It had every kind of taste except that of cucumbers, melons,
garlic , and onions, and leeks, for these were those Egyptian roots
which the Israelites so much regretted to have lost. This manna had,
however, the quality to accomodate itself to the palate of those who
did not murmur in the wilderness ; and to these it became fish , flesh ,
or fowl.

The rabbins never advance an absurdily without (Rioting a text in
Scripture ; and losubslantiale this fact they (|uote Deut. ii. 7, where
it is said: "Through this great wilderness, these forty years the
Lord lliy God halli been with thee, and t/iou hast lacked not/iif/gf'
St. Austin repeals this expliuialion of (he rabbins - (hat the laitliful

RABBIINICAL STORIES. >05

found in this manna the taste of their favourite food! However, the
Israelites could not have found all those benefits, as the rabbins tell
us 5 for in Numbers xi. 6 , the exclaim: " There is Twthin^ at all
besides this manna before our eyes! " They had just said that they
remembered the melons, cucumbers, etc. , which they had eaten of
so freely in Egypt. One of the hyperboles of the rabbins is, that the
manna fell in such mountains that the kings of the east and the west
beheld them ^ \\hich Ihey found in a passage in the 23rd Psalm :
" Thou preparesl a laWe before me in the presence of mine ene-
mies ! " These may serve as specimens of the forced interpretations
on which their grotesque fables are founded.

Their detestation of Titus , their great conqueror, appears by the
following wild invention. — After having narrated certain things too
shameful to read, of a prince whom Josephus describes in far differ-
ent colours , they tell us that on sea Titus tauntingly observed in a
great storm that the God of the Jews w s only powerful on the water,
and that therefore he had succeeded in drowning Pharaoh and Sisera.
" Had he been strong , he would have waged war with me in Jeru-
salem." On uttering this blasphemy, a voice from heaven said,
" Wicked man! I have a little creature in the world which shall
wage war with thee! " When Titus landed, a gnat entered his nostrils,
and for seven years together made holes in his brains. When his
skull was opened , the gnat was found to be as large as a pigeon : the
mouth of the gnat was of copper, and the claws of iron. A collection
which has recently appeared of these Talniudical stories has not
been executed with any felicity of selection. That there are, howe-
ver, some beaiiliful inventions in the Talmud, I refer to the story of
Solomon and Sheba , in the present volume.

ON THE CUSTOM OF SALUTING AFTER SNEEZING.

It is probable that this custom , so universally prevalent , origin-
ated in some ancient superstition 5 it seems to have excited inquiry
among all nations.

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 benediction to be used on such occasions ,
at a time when , during a pestilence , the crisis was attended by
sneezing, and in most cases followed by death.

But the rabbins, who have a story for every thing, say, that before
Jacob men never sneezei but o/zce, and then immediately died:
they assure us that that patriarch was the first who died by natural
disease, before him all men died by sneezing-, the memory of which
was ordered to be preserved in all nations by a command of every

106 SALUTING AFTER SNEEZING.

prince to his subjects to employ some salutary exclamation after the
act of sneezing. But these are Talmudical dreams, and only serve to
prove that so familiar a custom has always excited inquiry.

Even Aristotle has delivered some considerable nonsense on this
custom ; he says it is an honourable acknowledgment of the seat of
good sense and genius — the head — to distinguish it from two other
offensive eruptions of air, which are never accompanied by any
benediction from the by-standers. The custom , at all events , existed
long prior to Pope Gregory. The lover in Apuleius, Gyton in
Petronius, and allusions to it in Pliny, prove its antiquity, and a
memoir of the French Academy notices the practice in the New
World , on the first discovery of America. Every where man is salut-
ed for sneezing.

An amusing account of the ceremonies which attend the sneezing
of a king of Monomotapa shows what a national concern may be the
sneeze of despotism. — Those who are near his person , when this
happens , salute him in so loud a tone that persons in the antechamber
hear it, and join in the acclamation-, in the adjoining apartments
they do the same , till 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 salutations of many thousands of
his vassals.

When the king of Sennaar sneezes , his courtiers immediately
(urn their backs on him, and give a loud slap on their right thigh.

With the ancients sneezing w as ominous ; from the right it was
considered auspicious; and Plutarch, in his life of Themistocles ,
says, that before a naval battle it was a sign of conquest ! Catullus,
in his pleasing poem of Acme and Septimus, makes this action from
the deity of Love from the left the source of his fiction. The passage
has been elegantly versified by a poetical friend, who finds author-
ity that the gods sneezing on the right in heaven is supposed to
come to us on earth on the left.

Cupid sneezing iu his fligbt,
Once was heard upon the right.
Boding woe to lovers true 5
Rut now upon the left he flew,
And witli sporting sneeze divine,
(iave to joy the sacred sign.
Acme bent her lovely face ,
Flusli'd with rapture's rosy grace.
And those eyes that swam in bliss ,
Prest with many a breathing kiss , •
Brealliing, murmuring, soft, and low.
Thus miglit life for ever flow !
'' T;Ove of my life , and life of love !
Cupid rule* our fates above.

SALUTING AFTER SNEEZING. 107

Kver let us vow to join
In homage at his happy shrine."
Cupid heard the lovers true.
Again upon the left he flew,
And with sportive sneeze divine ,
Renew'd of joy the sacred sign !

BONAVENTURE DES PERIERS.

A 'HAPPY art in the relation of a story is , doubtless , a very
agreeable talent — it has obtained La Fontaine all the applause
which his charming naivete deserves.

0{ ''^ Bonaventure des Periers , Kalet de Chambre de la
Royne de Navarre ,"" there are three little volumes of tales in
prose, in the quaint or the coarse pleasantry of that day. The fol-
lowing is not given as the best, but as it introduces a novel etymo-
logy of a word in great use.

"A student at few, who studied at Poitiers , had tolerably impro-
ved himself in casfes of equity, not that he was overburthened with
learning, but his chief deficiency was a want of assurance and con-
fidence to display his knowledge. His father, passing by Poitiers,
recommended him to read aloud , and to render his memory more
prompt by continued exercise. To obey the injunctions of his father
he determined to read at the Ministery. In order to obtain a certain
quantity of assurance, he went every day into a garden, which was
a very retired spot , being at a distance from any house , and where
there grew a great number of fine large cabbages. Thus for a long
time he pursued his studies, and repeated his lectures to these cab-
bages, addressing them by the [\{\q o{ gentlemen -j and balancing
his periods to them as if they liad composed an audience of scholars.
After a fortnight or three weeks' preparation , he thought it was high
lime to take the chair ,• imagining that he should be able to lecture
his scholars as well as he had before done his cabbages. He comes
forward , he begins his oration — but before a dozen words his tongue
freezes between his teeth ! Confused , and hardly knowing where he
was, all he could bring out was — Domini , ego bene uideo quod
non estis caules ; that is to say — for there are some who will have
every thing in plain EngUsh — Gentletiien , I no%v 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
fo be cabbages.''

On this story La Monnoye has a note , which gives a new origin
to a familiar term.

'^he hall of the School of Equity at Poitiers, where the institutes
were read , was called La Ministerie. On which head , Florimond

108 BOINAVEINTURE DES PERIERS.

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 insti-
tutes at his Ministerie o[ Poitiers, Calvin, and others, styled him
Mr. Minister i from whence , afterwards , CaUnn took occasiop to
give the name of Ministers to the pastors of his church. '

GROTIUS.

The Life of Grolius shows the singular felicity of a man of letters
and a statesman^ and how a student can pass liis hours in the closest
imprisonment. The gate of the prison has sometimes been the porch
of fame.

Grotius , studious from his infancy, had also received from Nature
Uie faculty of genius ^ and was so fortunate as to find in his father a
tutor wlio had formed his early taste and his moral feelings. The
younger Grotius, in imitation of Horace, has celebrated his grati-
tude in verse.

One of the most interesting circumstances in the life of this great
man , w hich strongly marks his genius and fortitude , is displayed in
the manner in which he employed his time during his imprisonment.
Other men , condemned to exile and captivity, if they survive, des-
pair 5 the man of letters may reckon those days as the sweetest of his life.

When a prisoner at the Hague , he laboured on a Latin essay on
the means of terminating religious disputes, which occasion so many
infeUcities in the state , in the church , and in families 5 when he was
carried to Louvenstein , he resumed his law studies , which other
employments had interrupted. He gave a portion of his time to mo-
ral philosopliy, which engaged him to translate the maxims of the
ancient poets, collected by Stobaeus, and the fragments of Menander
and Philemon.

Every Sunday was devoted to the scriptures , and to his Commen-
taries on the New Testament. In the course of the work he fell ill ^
but as soon as he recovered his health he composed his treatise, in
Dutch verse, on the Truth of the Christian Religion. Sacred and
profane authors occupied him alternately. His only mode of refresh-
ing his mind was to pass from one work to another. He sent to Yos-
sius his observations on the Tragedies of Seneca. He wrote several
other works; particularly a little Catechism, in verse, for his daugh-
ter Cornelia; and collected materials to form his Apology. Add to
tiu'se various labours an extensive correspondence he held with the
learned; and his lett(M's were often so many treatises. There is a
printed collection aniounling to two IlKUJsand. Grotius had notes
ready for every classical author of aiiliciuily whenever they prepared

GROTIUS. 1(1'.)

a new cdilion; an acooiinl ol" his plans and his performances might
furnish a volume of themselves ; yet he never published in haste ,
and was fond of revising them; we must tecoUecl, notwithstanding
such uninterrupted literary avocations , his hours were frequently
devoted to the public functions of an ambassador. "I only reserve
for my studies (he time w hich other ministers give to their pleasures ,
to conversations often useless , and to visits sometimes unnecessary ;"
such is the language of this great man! Although he produced thus
abundantly, his confinement was not more than two years. We may
well exclaim here, that the mind of Grotius had never been im-
prisoned !

I have seen this great student censured for neglecting his oflicial
duties , but it would be necessary to decide on this accusation to
know the character of his accuser.

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 —

Soderini, the Gonftiloniere of Florence, having had a statue
ijiade by the great Michel Angela , when it was finished came to
inspect it; and having for some time sagaciously considered it, po-
ring 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 ,
only by lavishing his praise. But 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. yJjigelo differed from his
grace, but he said he would attempt to gratify his taste. He took up
his chisel, and concealed some marble-dust in his hand; feigning
to re-touch the part , he adroitly let fall some of the dust he held
concealed. The cardinal obswing it as it fell, transported at the
idea of his critical acumen, exclaimed — "Ah, Angelo! you have
now given an inimitable grace I "

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 Ihc broken cant of his criti-
cisms. The honest poet was stung with vexation; for, in general,
the parts at which his lordship hesitated were those with w hich he
was most satisfied. As he returned home with Sir Samuel Garth, he

no NOBLEMEN TURNED CRITICS.

revealed to him the anxiety of his mind. "Oh," replied Garth, laugh-
ing, "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 marble-dust o{ Angela; and my lord, like the cardi-
nal, exclaimed — " Dear Pope, they are now inimitable."

LITERARY IMPOSTURES.

Some authors have practised singular impositions on the pubhc.
Varillas , the French historian , enjoyed for some time a great repu-
tation in his own country for historical compositions, but when they
became more known , the scholars of other countries destroyed the
reputation which 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 inventions : — though he en-
deavoured to make them pass for realities by affected citations oj"
titles , instructions , letters , memoirs , and relations , all of them ima-
ginary ! He had read almost every thing historical, printed and ma-
nuscript ; but his fertile poHtical imagination' gave his conjectures as
facts, while he quoted at random his pretended authorities. Burnet's
book against Varillas is a curious httle volume.

Gemelli Carreri , a Neapolitan gentleman , for many years never
quitted his chamber-, confined by a tedious indisposition , he amused
himself with writing a F^oyage round the fP''orld; giving charac-
ters of men , and descriptions of countries , as if he had really visited
them : and his volumes are still very interesting. I preserve this anec-
dote as it has long come down to us ; but Carreri , it has been re-
cently ascertained , met the fate of Bruce ^ for he had visited the
places he has d^cribed •, Humboldt »ind Clavigero have confirmed
his local knowledge of Mexico, and of China, and found his book
useful and veracious. Du Haldc , who has written so voluminous an
account of China , compiled it from the Memoirs of the Missionaries,
and never travelled ten leagues from Paris in his life ; though he ap-
pears, by his writings, to be familiar with Cliinese scenery.

Dainbergcr's Travels some years ago made a great sensation — and
liio public were duped ; they proved to be tlie ideal voyages of a
member of the German Grubstreet, about his own garret. Too many
of our " Travels" have been manufactured to fill a certain size ;

LITERARY IMPOSTURES. Ill

and some which bear names of great authority were not written by
the professed authors.

There is an excellent observation of an anonymous author : —
" TFriters 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 collect-
ed from the idle reports and absurd traditions of the ignorant vul-
gar, from whom only they could have received those relations which
we see accumulated with such undiscerning credulity,"

Some authors have practised the singular imposition of announ-
cing a variety of titles, of works preparing for the press, but of
which nothing but the titles were ever written.

Paschal , historiographer of France , had a reason for these inge-
nious inventions; he continually announced such titles, that his
pension for writing on the history of France might not be stopped.
When he died , his historical labours did not exceed six pages !

Gregorio Leti is an historian of much the same stamp as Varillas.
He wrote with great facility, and hunger generally quickened his pen.
He took every thing too lightly ; yet his w orks are sometimes looked
into for many anecdotes of English history not to be found elsewhere ;
and perhaps ought not to have been there if truth had been consult-
ed. His great aim was always to make a book : he swells his volumes
with digressions, intersperses many ridiculous stories, and ap-
plies all the repartees he collected from old novel-writers to modern
characters.

Such forgeries abound-, the numerous " Testamens Politiques "
of Colbert, 3Iazarine, and other great ministers, were forgeries
usually from the Dutch press, as are many pretended political "' Me-
moirs."

Of our old translations from the Greek and Latin authors , many
were taken from French versions.

The Travels, written in Hebrew, of Rabbi Benjamin of Tudela,
of which we have a curious translation, are , I believe, apocryphal.
He describes a journey, which, if ever he took, it must have been
w ilh his night-cap on ; being a perfect dream I It is said that to inspi-
rit and give importance to his nation, he pretended that he had tra-
velled to all the synagogues in the East; he mentions places which
he does not appear ever to have seen , and the different people he
describes no one has known. He calculates that he has found near
eight hundred thousand Jews , of which about half are independent,
and not subjects of any Christian or Gentile sovereign. These ficti-
tious travels have been a source of much trouble to (he learned ; par-
ticularly to those who in their zeal to authenticate them followed
the ai^rial foosteps of the Hyppogriffe of Rabbi Benjamin. He allirms

112 LITERARY IMPOSTURES

Ihal the tomb of Ezekiel, with the Ubrary of the first and second
temples, were to be seen in his time at a place on the banks of the
river Euphrates^ Wesselius of Groningen, and many other literati,
travelled on purpose to Mesopotamia, to reach the tomb and exa-
mine the library 5 but the fairy treasures were never to be seen, nor
even heard of I

The first on the list of impudent impostors is Annius of Viterbo ,
a Dominican, and master of the sacred palace under Alexander VI.
He pretended he had discovered the entire works of Sanchoniatho ,
Manetho, Berosus, and others, of which only fragments are remain-
ing. He pubhshed seventeen books of antiquities I But not having
any MSS. to produce, though he declared he had found them bu-
ried in the earth , these literary fabrications occasioned great con-
troversies •, for the author died before he made up his mind to a
confession. At their first publication universal joy was diffused
among the learned. Suspicion soon rose, and detection followed.
However, as the forger never would acknowledge himself as such ,
it has been ingeniously conjectured that he himself was imposed on,
rather than that he was the impostor •, or, as in the case of Chatter-
ton, possibly all may not be fictitious. It has been said that a great
volume in MS. , anterior by two hundred years to the. seventeen
books of Annius , exists in the Bibliotheque Colberline, in which
these pretended histories were to be read ; but as Annius would ne-
ver point out the sources of his , the whole may be considered as a
very wonderful imposture, I refer the reader to Tyrwhitt's Vindica-
tion of his Appendix to Rowley's or Chatterton's Poems , p. 140,
for some curious observations, and some facts of literary imposture.

An extraordinary literary imposture was that of one Joseph Vella,
who, in 1794, was an adventurer in Sicily, and pretended that he
possessed seventeen of the lost books of Livy in Arabic : he had
received this literary treasure , he said , from a Frenchman who had
purloined it from a shelf in St. Sophia's church at Constantinople.
As many of the Greek and Roman classics have been translated by
the Arabians , and many were first known in Europe in their Arabic
dress, there was nothing improbable in one part of his story. He
was urged to publish these long-desired books ; and Lady Spencer,
then in Italy, olTered to defray the expenses. He had the effrontery,
by way of specimen , to edit an Italian translation of the sixtieth
book , but that book took up no more than one octavo page ! A pro-
fessor of Oriental literature in Prussia introduced it in his work, ne-
ver suspecting the fraud ; it proved to be nothing more than the
epitome of Florus. Ho also gave out that he possessed a code which
he had picked uj) in the abbey of St. Martin , containing the an-
cient history of Sicily in the Arabic period, comprehending above

LITERARY IMPOSTURES. 113

two hundred years ^ and of which ages their own historians were
entirely deficient in knowledge. Vella declared lie had a genuine
official correspondence between the Arabian governors of Sicily and
Iheir superiors in Africa , from the first landing of the Arabians in
that island. Vella was now loaded with honours and pensions! It is
true he showed Arabic MSS. , which , however, did not contain a
syllable of what he said. He pretended he was in continual corres-
pondence with friends at Morocco and elsewhere. The King of Na-
ples furnished him with money to assist his researches. Four vol-
umes in quarto were at length published! Vella had the adroitness
to change the Arabic MSS. he possessed , which entirely related to
Manomet , to matters relative to Sicily •, he bestow ed several weeks'
labour to disfigure the whole , altering page for page , line for line,
and word for word , but interspersed numberless dots , strokes , and
flourishes ; so that when he published a fac-simile , every one ad-
mired the learning of Vella , who could translate what no one else
could read. He complained he had lost an eye in this minute la-
bour •, and every one thought his pension ought to have been in-
creased. Every thing prospered about him , except his eye , which
some thought was not so bad neither. It was at length discovered
by his blunders , etc. that the whole was a forgery : though it had
now been patronised , translated , and extracted through Europe.
When this MS. was examined by an Orientalist , it was discovered to
be nothing but a history of Mahomet and his family. Vella was
condemned to imprisonment.

The Spanish antiquary, Medina Conde, in order to favour the pre-
tensions of the church in a great lawsuit , forged deeds and inscrip-
tions , which he buried in the ground , where he knew they would
shortly be dug up. Upon their being found, he published engravings
of them , and gave explanations of their unknown characters , ma-
king them out to be so many authentic proofs and evidences (»f the
contested assumptions of the clergy.

The Morocco ambassador purchased of him a copper bracelet of
Fatima , which Medina proved by the Arabic inscription and many
certificates to be genuine, and found among the ruins of the Alham-
bra, with other treasures of its last king, who had hid them lliere in
hope of better days. This famous bracelet turned out afterwards to
be the work of Medina's own hand , made out of an old brass can-
dlestick !

George Psalmanazar, to whose labours we owe much of the great
Universal History, exceeded in powers of deception any of the great
impostors of learning. His Island of Formosa was an illusion emi-
nently bold, and maintained with as much felicity as erudition ^ and
great must have been that erudition which could form a pretended

I. 8

114 uti;rar\ impostures.

language and its grammar, and fertile the genius which could invent
the history of an unknown people : it is said that the deception was
only satisfactorily ascertained by his own penitential confession ; he
had defied and baffled the most learned. The literary impostor Lau-
der had much more audacity than ingenuity, and he died contemned
by all the world. Ireland's Shakespeare served to show that commen-
lalors are not blessed , necessarily, with an interior and unerring
tact. Genius and learning are ill directed in forming literary imposi-
tions , but at least they must be distinguished from the fabrications of
ordinary impostors.

A singular forgery was practised on Captain Wilford by a leai|^ed
Hindu, who, to ingratiate himself and his studies with the too zealous
and pious European , contrived , among other attempts , to give the
history of Noah and his three sons , in his " Purana," under the de-
signation of Satyavrata. Captain Wilford, having read the passage ,
transcribed it for Sir William Jones, who translated it as a curious
extract 5 the whole was an interpolation by the dexterous introduction
of a forged sheet , discoloured and prepared for the purpose of de-
ception, and which, having served his purpose for the moment , was
. afterwards withdrawn. As books in India are not bound, it is not dif-
iicult to introduce loose leaves. To confirm his various impositions ,
this learned forger had the patience to write two voluminous sections,
in which he connected all the legends together in the style of the Pu-
rcuias, consisting of 12,000 lines. When Captain Wilford resolved
to collate the manuscripts with others, the learned Hindu began lo
disfigure his own manuscript, the captain's, and those of the college,
by erasing the name of the country and substituting that of Egypt.
With as much pains, and with a more honourable direction, our
Hindu Lauder might have immortalised his invention.

Wchave authors who sold their names to be prefixed to works they
never read ^ or, on the contrary, have prefixed the names of others
to their own writings. Sir John Hill, once when he fell sick , owned
lo a friend that he hadoverfatiguedhimsclf with writing seven works
at once ! one of which was on architecture, and another on cookery I
This hero once contracted to translate Swammerdam's work on in-
sects for fifty guineas. After the agreement with the bookseller, he re-
collected that he did not understand a word of the Dutch language !
Nor did Uiere exist a French translation. The work however, was not
the less done for this small obstacle. Sir John bargained with another
translator for twenty-five guineas. The second translator was precise-
ly in the same situation as the first; as ignorant, lliough not so well
paid as the knight. He rebargained witli a third, who perfectly un-
derstood his original, for twelve guineas! So that the translators who
could not tianslale feasiud on venison and turtle , while the modest

LITERARY IMPOSTURES. u:>

drudge, whose name never appeared to the world, broke in patience
his daily bread I The craft of auUiorship has many mysteries. One of
the great patriarchs and primeval dealers in EngHsh lilcralure was
Robert Green , one of the most facetious, profligate , and indefati-
gable of the Scribleri family. He laid the foundation of a new dynasty
of literary emperors. The first act by which he proved his claim to
the throne of Grub-street has served as a model to his numerous suc-
cessors— it was an ambidextrous trick! Green sold his " Orlando
Furioso " to two different theatres, and is among the first authors in
English literary history who wrote as a trader; or as crabbed An-
thony Wood phrases it in the language of celibacy and cynicism, " he
wrote to maintain his wife , and that high and loose course of living
which poets generally follow .'' With a drop slill sweeter, old An-
thony describes Gay ton, another worthy •, "■ he came up to London to
live in a shirking condition , and wrote trite things merely to gel
bread to sustain him and his wife.'" The hermit Anthony seems to
have had a mortal antipathy against the Eves of literary men.

CARDINAL RICHELIEU.

The present anecdote concerning Cardinal Richelieu may serve
to teach the man of letters how he deals out criticisms 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 seve-
ral illustrious men, and was desirous of composing the inscriptions
under the portraits. The one which he intended for Montluc, the
marechal of France , was conceived in these terms : Multa fecit ,
plnra scripsit, vir tamen magmis fiiit. He showed it without
mentioning the author to Bourbon , the royal Greek professor, and
asked his opinion concerning it. The critic considered that the Latin
was much in the style of the breviary ■, and , had it concluded w ith
an allelujah , it would serve for an anthem to the magnificat. The
cardinal agreed with the severity of his strictures, and even acknow-
ledged the discernment of the professor-, " for," he said, " it is really-
written by a priest." But however he might approve of Bourbons
critical powers, he punished without mercy his ingenuity. The pen-
sion his majesty had bestowed on him was withheld the next year.

The cardinal was one of those ambitious men who foolishly at-
tempt to rival every kind of genius \ and seeing himself constantly
disappointed, he envied, with all the venom of rancour, those talents
which are so frequently the all that men of genius possess.

He was Jealous of Balzac's splendid reputation ; and offered the
elder Heinsius ten thousand crowns lo write a criticism which should
ridicule his elaborate compositions. This Heinsius refused, because

116 CARDINAL RICHELIEU.

Salinasius threatened to revenge Balzac on his H erodes Infan-
ticidci.

He attempted to rival the reputation of Corneille's " Cid," by op-
posing to it one of the most ridiculous dramatic productions •, it was
the allegorical tragedy called " Europe ," in which the minister had
congregated the four quarters of the world ! Much political matter
was thrown together, divided into scenes and acts. There are append-
ed to it keys of the dramatis personce and of the allegories. In this
tragedy Francion represents France •, Ibere , Spain •, Parthenope ,
Naples, etc. ; and these have their attendants : — Lilian ( alluding to
the French Hlies) is the servant of Francion, while Hispale is the
confident of Ibere. But the key to the allegories is much more co-
pious : — Albione signifies England ; three knots of tJie hair of
Austrasie mean the towns of Clermont, Stenay, and Jamet, these
places once belonging to Lorraine. A box of diamonds of Austrasie
is the town of Nancy, belonging once to the dukes of Lorraine. The
hey of Iberia's great porch is Perpignan, which France took from
Spain •, and in this manner is this sublime tragedy composed ! When
he first sent it anonymously to the French Academy it was reproba-
ted. He then tore it in a rage , and scattered it about his study. To-
wards 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 Aca-
demy retracted their censures, but the public pronounced its melan-
choly fate on its first representation. This lamentable tragedy was
intended to thwart Corneille's " Cid." Enraged at its success, Riche-
lieu even commanded llie Academy to publish a severe critique of it,
well known in French literature. Boileau on this occasion has these
two well turned verses : —

" En vain contre le Cid , iin niinistre se ligue ;

Tout Paris , pour Cliimene , a Ics yeux de Rodrigue."

'^ To oppose the Cid, in vain tlie statesman tries;
All Paris, for Ckiniene , has Roderick's eyes."

It is said that in consequence of the fall of this tragedy the French
custom is derived of securing a number of friends to applaud their
pieces at their first representations. I find the following droll anec-
dote concerning this droll tragedy in Beauchamp's Recherches sur
](■ Theatre.

'J'lie minister, after tlie ill success of his tragedy, rodred unac^om-
|)aiii(>d th(^ same evening to his country house at iluol. He then sent
lijfc; la\()uri(e Desmarel, who was at supper with his friend Petit. Des-

CARDINAL KiCHELlEU. 117

niaiels, conjecturing Ihatlhe mlervicw would be stormy, begged liis
friend to accompany him.

"Well ! " said the Cardinal as s(K)n as he saw them , " the French
will never possess a taste for what is lofty : they seem not to have
relished my tragedy." — "My lord," answered Petit, "it is not the
fault of the piece, which is so admirable, but tliat of the players.
Did not your eminence perceive that not only they knew not their
parts, but that they were all drunk?"' — "Really," replied the car-
dinal, something pleased, " I observed they acted it dreadfully ill."

Desmarets and Petit returned to Paris, flew directly to the players
!o plan a ner^v mode of performance , which was to secure a num-
ber of spectators 5 so that at the second representation bursts of ap-
plause were frequently heard !

Richelieu hud another singular vanity of closely imitating Cardinal
Ximenes. Pliny was not a more servile imitator of Cicero. IMarville
(ells us that, like Ximenes, he placed himself at the head of an
army •, like him , he degraded princes and nobles ; and like him ,
rendered himself formidable to all Europe. And because Ximenes
had established schools of theology, Richelieu undertook likewise to
raise into notice the schools of the Sorbonne. And, to conclude, as
Ximenes had written several theological treatises , our cardinal was
also desirous of leaving posterity various polemical works. But his
gallantries rendered him more ridiculous. Always in ill health,
this miserable lover and grave cardinal would , in a freak of love ,
dress himself with a red feather in his cap and sword by his side.
He was more hurt by an offensive nickname given him by the queen
of Louis XIII., than even by the hiss of theatres and the critical
condemnation of academies.

Cardinal Richelieu was assuredly a great pohticai genius. Sir Wil-
liam Temple observes , that he instituted the French Academy to
give employment to the wits, and to hinder them from inspecting
loo narrowly his politics and his administration. It is believed that
the Marshal de Grammont lost an important battle by the orders of
the cardinal; that in this critical conjuncture of affairs his majesty,
who was incUned to dismiss him, could not then absolutely do
without him.

Vanity in this cardinal levelled a great genius. He wiio would
attempt to display universal excellence 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.

ARISTOTLE AND PLATO.

No philosopher has been so much praised and censured as Aris-
lolle ; but he had this advantage , of which some of (he most eminent

lis ARISTOTLE AND PLATO

scholars have been deprived, Ihat he enjoyed during his hie a splen-
did repulalion. Philip ofMacedon must have fell a strong conviction
of his merit when he wrote to him on the birth of Alexander : — ,,1
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 at a
lime when you can have the care of his education 5 and that through
you he will be rendered worthy of being my son."

Diogenes Laertius describes the person of the Stagyrite. — His
eyes were small , his voice hoarse , and his legs lank. He stammered ,
was fond of a magnificent dress, and wore costly rings. He had a
mistress whom he loved passionately, and for whom he frequently
acted inconsistently with the philosophic character 5 a thing as com-
mon with philosophers as with other men. Aristotle had nothing of
tlie austerity of the philosopher, though his works are so austere :
he was open , pleasant , and even charming in his conversation 5 fiery
and volatile in his pleasures; magnificent in his dress. He is descri-
bed as fierce, disdainful, and sarcastic. He joined to a taste for
profound erudition that of an elegant dissipation. His passion for
luxury occasioned him such expenses when he was young, that
he consumed a!! his property. Laertius has preserved the will of
Aristotle, which is curious. The chief part turns on the future wel-
fare and marriage of his daughter. "If, after my death , she chooses
to marry, the executors will be careful she marries no person of
an inferior rank. If she resides atChalcis, she shall occupy the
apartment contiguous to the garden-, if she chooses Stagyra, she
shall reside in the house of my father, and my executors shall furnish
either of those places she fixes on."

Aristotle had studied under the divine Plato 5 but the disciple and
the master could not possibly agree in their doctrines : they were of
opposite tastes and talents. Plato was the chief of the academic sect,
and Aristotle of the peripatetic. Plato was simple, modest, frugal,
and of austere manners; a good friend and a zealous citizen, but a
theoretical politician : a lover indeed of benevolence, and desirous
of diffusing it amongst men , but knowing little of them as wo find
them; his '•'republic" is as chimerical as Rousseau's ideas, or Sir
Thomas More's Utopia.

llapin , [\\(i critic , has sketched an ingenious parallel of these two
celebrated philosophers.

The genius of Plato is more polished , and that of Aristotle more
vast and profound. Plato has a lively and teeming iiuagination; fer-
tile in invention, in ideas, in expressions, and in figures; displaying
a thousand dilTerent turns, a thousand new colours, al! agreeable to
their subject; but after all it is nothing more than imagination. Aris-
totle is hard and dry in all he says, but what he says is all reason.

ARISTOTLE A1\D PLATO. lin

ihoiigli it is expressed drily : his dicliori, pure as ilis, has soinc-
(hing uncommonly auslere^ and his obscurities, natural or affected,
disgust and fatigue his readers. Plato is ecjually delicate in his
thoughts and in his expressions. Aristotle , though he may be more
natural, has not any delicacy : his style is simple and equal, but
close and nervous 5 that of Plato is grand and elevated , but loose
and diffuse. Plato always says more than he should say ; Aristotle
never says enough , and leaves the reader always to think more than
he says. The one surprises the mind , and charms it by a flowery and
sparkling character : the other illuminates and instructs it by a just
and solid method. Plato communicates something of genius by the
fecundity of his own ; and Aristotle something of judgment and rea-
son by that impression of good sense which appears in all he says. In
a word , Plato frequently only thinks to express himself well ^ and
Aristotle only thinks to think justly.

An interesting anecdote is related of these philosophers. — Aris-
totle became the rival of Plato. Literary disputes long subsisted
betwixt them. The disciple ridiculed his master and the master treated
contemptuously his disciple. To make his superiority manifest, Aris-
totle wished for a regular disputation before an audience where eru-
dition and reason might prevail ; but this satisfaction was denied.

Plato was always surrounded by his scholars, who took a Hvely
interest in his glory. Three of these he taught to rival Aristotle, and
it became theirmulual interest to depreciate his merits. Unfortunate-
ly one day Plato found himself in his school without these three
favourite scholars. Aristotle flies to him — a crowd gathers and enters
with him. The idol whose oracles they wished to overturn was pre-
sented to them. He was then a respectable old man , the weight of
whose years had enfeebled his memory. The combat was not long.
Some rapid sophisms embarrassed Plato. He saw himself surround-
ed by the inevitable traps of the subtlest logician. Vanquished, he
reproached his ancient scholar by a beautiful figure : — '•'•He has
kicked against us as a colt against its mother."

Soon after this humiliating adventure he ceased to give public lec-
tures. Aristotle remained master in the field of battle. He raised a
school , and devoted himself to render it the most famous in Greece.
But the three favourite scholars of Plato, zealous to avenge the cause
of their master, and to make amends for their imprudence in having
quitted him , armed themselves against the usurper. Xenocrates ,
the most ardent of the three , attacked Aristotle , confounded the
logician, and re-established Plato in all his rights. Since that time
the academic and peripatetic sects, animated by the spirits of their
several chiefs , avowed an eternal hostility. In what manner his works
have descended to us has been told in this volume in the article Des-

120 ARISTOTLE AND PLATO.

truction of Books. Aristotle having declaimed irreverently of the
gods , and dreading the fate of Socrates , wished to retire from Athens.
In a beautiful manner he pointed out his successor. There were two
rivals in his schools : Menedemus the Rhodian , and Theophrastus
the Lesbian. Alluding delicately to his own critical situation, he told
his assembled scholars that the wine he was accustomed to drink
w as injurious to him , and he desired them to bring the wines of
Rhodes and Lesbos. He tasted both , and declared they both did ho-
nour to their soil, each being excellent, though differing in their
quality. — The Rhodian wine is the strongest, but the Lesbian is the
sweetest, and that he himself preferred it. Thus his ingenuity de-
signaled his favourite Theophrastus , the author of the "Charac-
ters," for his successor.

ABELARD AND ELOISA.

Abelard , so famous for his writings and his amours with Eloisa,
ranks among the heretics for opinions concerning the Trinity ! His
superior genius probably made him appear 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 oXA friend , but who had now turned saint,
that poor Abelard was what their malice described him to be. Ber-
nard , inflamed against him , condemned unheard the unfortunate
scholar. But it is reiHarkable 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
canonised in the Sorbonne , and on which the scholastic theology
is founded. The objectionable passage is an illustration of the Tri-
nity by the nature of a syllogism/ — " As (says he) the three pro-
positions of a syllogism form but one truth , so the Father and Son
constitute but one essence. — The major represents the Father,
the minor the Son, and the conclusion the Holy Ghost!'" It is
curious to add that Bernard himself has explained this mystical
union precisely in the same manner, and equally clear. ^ The
understanding, " says this saint, " is the image of God. We find it
consist of three parts : — memory, intelligence, and will. To memory,
we attribute all which we know, without cogitation ; to intelligence,
all truths we discover which have not been deposited by memory.
By memory, we resemble the Father:, by intelligence the Son-,
and by will the Holy Gost. " Bernard's Lib. de Aninick, Cap. L
Num. 6 , quoted in the " Mem. Seer, de la R^publique des Letlres. "
We may add also, that because Abelard, in (ho warmth of hones!
indignation, had reproved the monks of St. Dejiis , in France , and

ABELARD AND ELOISA. 121

Si. Gildas de Ruys , in Brelagnc , lor 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«iofter sex, but
what indeed is very unusual, a congeniality of disposition, and an
enthusiasm of imagination.

" Is it, ia heaven, a crime to love too well ?"

It appears by a letter ofPeterdeCluny to Eloisa, thatjshe had soli-
cited for Abelard's absolution. The abbot gave it to her. It runs
thus : " Ego Petrus Cluniacensis Abbas , qui Petrum ^Vba^lardum in
monachum Cluniacensum recepi, et corpus ejus furlim delatum
Heloissse abbatissae et moniali Paracleli concessi , auctoritate omni-
potentis Dei et omnium sanctorem absolvo eum pro officio ab omni-
bus peccatis suis. ''

An ancient chronicle of Tours records that when they deposited
the body of the Abbess Eloisa in the tomb of her lover Peter Abe-
lard, who had been there interred tw enty years, this faithful husband
raised his arms , stretched them , and closely embraced his beloved
Eloisa. This poetic fiction was invented to sanctify, by a miracle, the
frailties of their youthful days. This is not wonderful : — but it is
strange that Du Chesne , the father of French history, not only
relates this legendary tale of the ancient chroniclers , but gives it as
an incident well authenticated, and maintains its possibility by
various other examples. Such fanciful incidents once not only em-
bellished poetry, but enlivened history.

Bayle tells us that billets doux and amorous verses are two
powerful machines to employ in the assaults of love •, particularly
when the passionate songs the poetical lover composes are sung by
himself. This secret was well known to ihe elegant Abelard. Abelard
so touched the sensible heart of Eloisa , and infused such fire into
her frame , by employing \iS.s fine pen and his fine voice, that the
poor woman never recovered from the attack. She herself informs
us that he displayed two qualities w hich are rarely found in philo-
sophers, and by which he could instantly win the alfeclions of the
female 5 — he wrote and sung finely. He composed love-verses so
beautiful , and songs so agreable , as w ell for the words as the
airs, that all the world got them by heart, and the name of his
mistress was spread from province to province.

What a gratification to the enthusiastic , the amorous , the vain
Eloisa I of whom Lord Lyttelton in his curious Life of Henry II.
observes , tliat had she not been compelled to read the fathers and
the legends in a nunnery, and had been suffered to improve her

122 ABELARD AND ELOISA.

genius by a continued application to polite literature, from what
appears in her letters, she would have excelled any man of that age.

Eloisa, I suspect, however, would have proved but a very indif-
ferent polemic. She seems to have had a certain delicacy in her
manners whichvrather belongs to the fine lady. We cannot but
smile at an observation of hers on the Apostles which we find in her
letters. " We read that the apostles , even in the company of
their master, were so rustic and ill-bred that, regardless of common
decorum, as they passed through the cornfields they plucked the
ears and ate them like children. Nor did they wash their hands
before they sat down to table. To eat with unwashed hands, said
our Saviour to those who were offended, doth not defile a man,"

It is on the misconception of the mild apologetical reply of
Jesus , indeed , that religious fanatics have really considered that to
be careless of their dress , and not to free themselves from filth and
slovenhncss , is an act of piety, just as the late political fanatics ,
who thought that republicanism consisted in the most offensive
filthiness. On this principle, that it is saint-like to go dirty, ragged,
and slovenly, says Bishop Lavinglon, " Enthusiasm of the Metho-
dists and Papists ," how piously did Whitefield take care of the
outward man, who in his journals writes, " My apparel was mean —
thought it unbecoming a penitent to have powdered hair — I wore
woollen gloves , a patched gown , and dirty shoes! "

After an injury, not less cruel than humiliating, Abelard raises
the school of the Paraclete •, with what enthusiasm is he followed
to that desert! His scholars in crowds hasten to their adored master.
They cover their mud sheds with the branches of trees. They care
not to sleep under better roofs , provided they remain by the side
of their unfortunate master. How lively must have been their taste
for study ! It formed their soHtary passion , and the love of glory was
gratified even in that desert.

Tiio two reprehensible lines in Pope's Eloisa, too celebrated
among certain of its readers —

" Not Cssar's empress would. I deign to prove ;
" No, — make me mistress to tlie maa I love! " —

are, however, found in her original letters. The author of that
ancient work, "The Romaunt of the Kose," has given it thus
naively ^ a specimen of the natural style in those days :

Se rempcrcur, qui est a Rome
Soul)/, qui doyveiit elrc tout liomiiic,
Me daiguoit prendre pour sa femiuc,
I'lt me fairc du mouJe dame;

ABELARD AND ELOISA. 12-5

Si vouldroye-je inicux , dibt-elle
Et Dieu ea tesruoing en appclle
Estre sa putaine appellee
Qu'eslre cmperiere couronn^e.

PHYSIOGNOMY.

A VERY extraordinary physiognomical anecdote has been given
by De la Place in his " Pieces interessantes et peu connues, " v.
iv. p. 8.

A friend assured him that he had seen a voluminous and secret
correspondence which had been carried on between Louis XIV.
and his favourite physician De la Chambre on this science : the faith
of the monarch seems to have been great , and the purpose to which
this correspondence tended was extraordinary indeed , and perhaps
scarcely credible. Who will believe that Louis XIY. was so con-
vinced of that talent which De la Chambre attributed to himself, of
deciding merely by the physiognomy of persons not only on the
real bent of their character, but to what employment they were
adapted, that the king entered into a secret correspondence to
obtain the critical notices of \\\'s physiognomist? That Louis XIV.
should have pursued this system , undetected by his own courtiers,
is also singular : but it appears by this correspondence thas this art
positively swayed him in his choice of officers and favourites. On
one of the backs of these letters De la Chambre had written, " If I
die before his majesty, he will incur great risk of making many an
unfortunate choice ! "

This collection of physiognomical correspondence , if it does
really exist, would form a curious publication; we have heard
nothing of it I De la Chambre was an enthusiastic physiognomist ,
as appears by his works ; " The Characters of the Passions, " four
volumes in quarto; "The Art of Knowing Mankind; and "The
Knowledge of Animals. " Lavater quotes his " Vote and Interest "
in favour of his favourite science. It is , however, curious to add ,
that Philip Earl of Pembroke , under James I. had formed a parti-
cular collection of portraits , with a view to physiognomical studies.
According io Evelyn on Medals, p. 302, such was his sagacity in
discovering the characters and dispositions of men by their counte-
nances, that James I. made no httle use of his extraordinary talent
on W\G first arrival of ambassadors at court.

The following physiological definition of Physiognomy is extract-
ed from a publication by Dr. Gwither, of the year 1604, which,
dropping his history of " The Animal Spirits," is curious.

" Soft wax caiujot receive more various and numerous impres-
sions than are imprinted on a man's face by objects moving his

124 PHYSIOGNOMY.

affections : and not only the objects themselves have this power, faul
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 its creation 5 having
first made an alteration in ihQ face by its nerves , especially by the
pathetic and oculorum motorii actuating its many muscles , as the
dial-plate to that stupendous piece of clock-work which shows 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; 1 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 5 as in an organ, whose pipes being uncovered, the air
rashes into them; but the keys let go, are stopped again. Now, if
by repeated acts of frequent entertaining of a favourite idea of a
passion or vice , which natural temperament has hurried one to .
or custom dragged , the/«ce is so often put into that posture which
attends such acts, that the animal spirits find such latent passages
into its 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 bibilory. Lascivious persons are re-
markable for the ocidonun mobilis peiidantia , as Petronius calls
it. From this also we may solve the Quaker s expecting face , wait-
ing for the pretended spirit ; and the melancholy face of the sectaries;
(he studious face of men of great application of mind ; revengeful
and bloody men , like executioners in the acts : 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 show a changeable mind. But 1 would by no
me^us have what has been said undcislood as williout exception ;

PHYSIOGNOMY. 135

for I doubt not but sometimes there arc found men with groat and
virtuous souls under very unpromising outsides."

The great Prince of Cond6 was very expert in a sort of physiog-
nomy which showed the peculiar habits, motions, and postures of
famihar Hfe and mechanical employments. He would sometimes lay
wagers with his friends , that he would guess, upon the Pont Neuf ,
what trade persons were of that passed by, from their walk and air.

CHARACTERS DESCRIBED BY MUSiCal NOTES.

The idea of describing characters under the names of Musical
Instruments has been already displayed in two most pleasing pai)ers
which embellish the 7'rtfZer , written by Addison. He dwells on this
idea with uncommon success. It has been applauded for its origina-
lity ^ and in the general preface to that work, those papers are
distinguished for their felicity of imagination. The following paper
was published in the year 1700, in a volume of " Philosophical
Transaction and Collections ," and the two numbers of Addison in
the year 1710. It is probable that this inimitable writer borrowed
tlie seminal hint from this work.

" 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/ifths , some thirds; and that his discourse which was
most pleasing, his words, as to their tone , consisted most of con-
cords , 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 scarcely
seem the same things.

" From this difference of Music in Speech, we may conjecture
that of TE3IPERS. We know the Doric mood sounds gravity and
sobriety; the Lydian, buxomness and freedom; the VEolic, sweet
stillness 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 show
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 employ-
ments, vet somewhat of an inconstant nature. Likewise from the

126 CHARACTERS DESCRIBED BY MUSICAL WOTES.

Times : so semi-brief s may speak a temper dull and phlegmatic ^
minims , grave and serious ; crotchets , a prompt wit ; quavers ,
vehemency of passion , and scolds use them ^ semi-hriej-rest , may
denote one either stupid or fuller of thoughts than he can utter;
minim-rest , one that deliberates •, crotchet-rest , one in a passion.
So that from the natural use of Mood , Note, and Time, wc may
collect Dispositions."

MILTON.

It is painful to observe the acrimony which the most eminent
scholars have infused frequently in their controversial writings. The
politeness of the present limes has in some degree softened the ma-
lignity of the man , in the dignity of the author, but this is by no
means an irrevocable law.

It is said not to be honourable to literature to revive such contro-
versies; and a work entitled " Querclles Litteraires ," when it first
appeared, excited loud murmurs. But it has its moral ; hke showing
the drunkard to a youth that he may turn aside disgusted with
cbriety. Must we suppose that men of letters are exempt from the
imman passions? Their sensibility, on the contrary, is more irritable
than that of others. To observe the ridiculous attitudes in which
great men appear, when they employ the style of the fish-market,
may be one great means of restraining that ferocious pride often
breaking out in the republic of letters. Johnson at least appears to
have entertained the same opinion ; for he thought proper to repub-
lish the low invective olDrjdeji against Settle : and since I have
])ublished my "Quarrels of Authors," it becomes me to say no
more.

The celebrated controversy of Salmasius continued by Morus
with Milton — the first the pleader of King Charles , the latter the
advocate 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 Mil-
ton , who perfectly massacred Salmasius , is now read but by the few.
Whatever is addressed to the times , however great may be its me-
rit, is doomed to perish with the times-, yet on these pages the phi-
losopher will not contemplate in vain.

It will form no uninteresting article to gather a few of the rhetorical
weeds, (or flowers we cannot well call Ihcm, with which they mu-
tually presented each other. Their rancour was at least equal to their
crudiiion, the two most learned antagonists of a learned age I

wSalmasius was a man of vast erudili(»n , but no taste. His writings
are learned; but sometimes ridiculous, lie called iiis work Dcfensio
Jiegia, Defence of Kings. The opening of this work provokes a

MILTON. 127

laugh. "Englishmen! who loss (ho heads of kings as so many tcn-
nisballs; who play with crowns as if Ihcy were howls ; who look
upon sccphcs as so many crooks."

That the deformity of the body is an idea we attach to the deform-
ity of the mind, the vuljjar must acknowledge^ hut surely it is un-
pardonable in the enlightened philosopher thus to compare the
crookedness of corporeal matter with the rectitude of the intellect-,
yet Milbournc and Dennis , the last a formidable critic , have fre-
quently considered, llial comparing Dry den and Pope to whatever
the eye turned from with displeasure was very good argument to
lower their literary abilities. Salmasius seems also to have enlcitain-
od this idea, though his spies in England gave him wrong infor-
Fiialion ; or, possibly, he only drew the (igure of his own distempered
imagination.

Salmasius sometimes reproaches Milton as being but a puny piece
of man; an homunculus, a dwarf deprived of the human figure, a
bloodless being, composed of nothing but skin and bone ; a contempt-
ible pedagogue, fit only to flog his boys : and rising into a poetic
frenzy, applies to him the words of Virgil, '■'• M on strum liorren-
duin , informe , in gens , cui liinien ademptuin.'''' 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 \ and he would not be silent on the subject , he says, lest any
one should consider him as the credulous Spaniards are made to
believe by their priests , that a heretic is a kind of rhinoceros or a
dog-headed monster. Milton says, that he does not think anyone
over considered him as unbeautiful ; that his size rather approaches
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, was sufficiently creditable to him ; for though he had pass-
ed his fortieth year, he was in alFother respects ten years younger.
And very pathetically he adds, "that even his eyes, blind as they
are , are unblemished in their appearance ; in this instance alone ,
and much against my inclination, I am a deceiver! "

Morus, in his Epistle dedicatory of his Regii Sanguinis Clamor,
compares Milton to a hangman ; his disordered vision to the blind-
ness of his soul, and vomits forth his venom.

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 laid no restrictions on his pen ; but raging with the irritation

128 jMILTON.

of Milton's success , he throws out the blackest calumnlos , and the
most infamous aspersions.

It must be observed , when Milton first proposed to answer Sal-
masius 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 even now not read without sympathy. Salmasius
considers it as one from which he may draw caustic ridicule and
satiric severity.

Salmasius glories that fMilton lost his health and his eyes In an-
swering his apology for King Charles I He does not now reproach
him with natural deformities •, but he maUgnantly sympathises with
him , that he now no more is in possession of that beauty which ren-
dered him so amiable during his residence in Italy. He speaks more
plainly in a following page ; and in a word , would blacken the aus-
tere virtue of Milton with a crime infamous to name.

Impartiality of criticism obliges us to confess that Milton was not
destitute of rancour. When he was told that his adversary boasted he
had occasioned the loss of his eyes, he answered, with ferocity —
" And I shall cost him his life! " A prediction which was soon
after verified : for Christina, Queen of Sweden, withdrew her patron-
age from Salmasius, and sided with Milton. The universal neglect
the proud scholar felt hastened his death in the course of a twelve-
month.

The greatness of Milton's mind was degraded ! He actually con-
descended to enter into a correspondence in Holland to obtain little
scandalous anecdotes of his miserable adversary Morus 5 and deigned
to adulate the unworthy Christina of Sweden , because she had ex-
pressed herself favourably on his. " Defense." Of late years we have
had too many instances of this worst of passions ^ the antipathies
of politics !

ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS.

We are indepted to the Italians for the idea of newspapers. The
title of their gazettas was perhaps derived from gazerra , a mag-
l)ie or chatterer ; or more probably from a farthing coin, peculiar
to the city of Venice, called g azett a , which was the common price
of the newspapers. Another etymologist is for deriving it from the
Latin gaza , which would colloquially lengthen into gazetta , and
signify a little treasury of news. The Spanish derive it from the Latin
gazn, and likewise their gazaUro and our gazeltccr for a writer

ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS. lj«j

of the gazette, and, what is peculiar to themselves, gazetista, for
a lover of the gazette.

Newspapers then took their birth in that principal land of modern
poUticians, Ilaly, and under the government of that aristocratical re-
public Venice. The first paper was a A'enetian one, and only monthly :
but it was merely the newspaper of the government. Other govern-
ments afterwards adopted the Venetian plan of a newspaper, w ith the
Venetian name ; from a solitary government gazette, an inundation
of newspapers has burst upon us.

Mr. George Chalmers , in his life of Ruddiman , gives a curious
particular of these Venetian gazettes. " A jealous government did
not allow a printed newspaper : and the Venetian gazetta conti-
nued long after the invention of printing to the close of the sixteenth
century, and even to our own days, to be distributed in mami-
script.'" In the MagUabechian library at Florence are thirty volumes
of Venetian gazettas all in manuscript.

Those who first wrote newspapers were called by the Italians
menajiti; because , says Vossius , they intended commonly by these
loose papers to spread about defamatory reflexions , and were there-
fore prohibited in Italy by Gregory XIII. by a particular bull ,
under the name of menantes, from the Latin minantes, threaten-
ing. Menage , however derives it from the Italian menare , which
signifies to lead at large , or spread afar.

Mr. Chalmers discovers in England the first newspaper. It may
gratify national pride , says he , to be told that mankind are indebted
to the wisdom of Elizabeth and the prudence of Burleigh for the first
newspaper. The epoch of the Spanish Armada is also the epoch of
a genuine newspaper. In the British IVIuseum are several newspa-
pers which were printed while the Spanish fleet was in the English
Channel during the year 1588. It was a wise policy to prevent,
during a moment of general anxiety, the danger of false reports ,
by pubhsbing real information. The earliest newspaper is entitled
" The English Mercurie," which by authority " was imprinted
at London by her highnesses printer 1588." These were , however,
but extraordinary gazettes , not regularly pubhshed. In this obscure
origin they were skilfully directed by the policy of that great slates-
man Burleigh, who, to inflame the national feeling gives an extract
of a letter from Madrid which speaks of putting the queen to death,
and the instruments of torture on board the Spanish fleet.

Mr. George Chalmers has exultingly taken down these patriarchal
newspapers , covered with the dust of two centuries.

The first newspaper in the collection of the British Museum is
marked No. 50 , and is in Roman , not in black letter. It contains
the usual articles of news like the London Gazette of the present day.
I. 9

<30 ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS.

In that curious paper, Ihere are news dated from Whitehall , on the
23rd July, 1588. Under the date of July 26 there is the following
notice : '' Yesterday the Scots ambassador, being introduced to Sir
Francis Walsinghani , had a private audience of her majesty, to
whom he delivered a letter from the king his master ; containing
the most cordial assurances of his resolution to adhere to her ma-
jesty's interests , and to those of the protestant rehgion. And it
may not here be improper to take notice of a wise and spiritual
saying of this young prince (he was twenty-two) to the queen's mi-
nister at his court , viz. That all the favour he did expect from the
Spaniards was the courtesy of Polypheme to Ulysses , to be the last
deuowed.'''' Mr. Chalmers defies the gazetteer of the present day
to give a more decorous account of the introduction of a foreign
minister, The aptness of King James's classical saying carried it
from the newspaper into history. I must add , that in respect to his
wit no man has been more injured than this monarch. More pointed
sentences are recorded of James I. than perhaps of any prince ; and
yet , such is the delusion of that medium by which the popular eye
sees things in this world , that he is usually considered as a mere
royal pedant, I have entered more largely on this subject in an " In-
quiry of the literary and political character of James I."

In these " Mercuries " some advertisements of books run much
like those of the present times , and exhibit a picture of the literature
of those days. All these publications were " imprinted and sold " by
the queens' printers , Field and Baker.

1st. An admonition to the people of England , wherein are an-
swered the slanderous untruths reproachfully uttered by Mar-
prelate , and others of his brood , against the bishops and chief of
the clergy ' .

2ndly. The copy of a letter sent to Don Bernardin Mendoza , am-
bassador in France , for the king of Spain j declaring the state of
England , etc. The second edition.

3rdly. An exact journal of all passages at the siege of Bergen-op-
Zoom. By an eye-witness.

4thly. Father Parson's coat well dusted ^ or short and pithy ani-
madversions on that infamous fardle of abuse and falsities , entitled
Leicester s Commonwealt/i^ .

.5thly. Elizabetha Triuinphans , an heroic poem, by James

" I have written the history of the Mar-prelate faction, in " Quarrels of
Authors," wliicli our historians appear not to liave known. The materials
were suppressed by tjovernment , and not preserved even in our national
de])ositories.

" A curious secret liistory of the Earl of Leicester, by the Jesuit Parson.

ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS. <81

Aske 5 with a declaration how her excellence was cnlerlaiiicd at the
royal course at Tilbury, and of the overthrow of the Spanish fleet.

Periodical papers seem lirst to have been more generally used
by the English , during the civil wars of the usurper Cromwell , to
disseminate amongst the people the sentiments of loyalty or rebel-
lion , according as their authors were disposed. Peter Heylin , in
the preface to his Cosmo^/v?/?/!/, mentions, that " the alTairs of each
town , of war, were better presented to the reader in the Weehly
News-books.'' Hence we find some papers entitled News from
Hull , Truths from York , Warranted Tidings from Ireland , etc. We
find also " The Scots' Dove " opposed to '' The Parliament Kite,"
or " The Secret Owl." — Keener animosities produced keener titles :
" Heraclitus ridens " found an antagonist in " Democritus ridens,"
and " The Weekly Discoverer " was shortly met by " The Disco-
verer stript naked." " Mercurius Britannicus " was grappled by
'"• Mercurius Mastix, faithfully lashing all Scouts, Mercuries, Posts ,
Spies, and others." Under all these names papers had appeared,
but a Mercury was the prevailing title of these '•' News-Books,"
and the principles of the writer were generally shown by the addi-
tional epithet. We find an alarming number of these Mercuries ,
which , were the story not too long to tell , might excite laughter ^
they present us with a very curious picture of those singular times.

Devoted to political purposes , 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 all factions. They set the
minds of men more at variance , inflamed their tempers to a greater
fierceness , and gave a keener edge to the sharpness of civil discord.

Such works will always find adventurers adapted to their scur-
rilous purposes, who neither want at times either talents, or bold-
ness, or wit, or argument. Avast crowd issued from the press, and
are now to be found in private collections. They form a race of
authors unknown to niost readers of these times : the names of
some of their chiefs, however, have reached us, and in the minor
chronicle of domestic literatjire I rank three notable heroes ; Mar-
chamont Needham, Sir John Birkenhead, and Sir Roger L'Eslrange.

Marchamont Needham , the great patriarch of newspaper wri-
ters , was a man of versatile talents and more versatile politics \, a
bold adventurer, and most successful , because the most profligate
of his tribe. From college he came to London ; was an usher hi
Merchant Tailors' school ; then an under clerk in Gray's Inn; at
length studied physic , and practised chemistry -, and finally he w as
a captain, and in the words of our great literary antiquary, "■ siding
with the rout and scum of the people, he made (hem weekly sport
by raihng at all that was noble, in his Tnlolligence, called Mercurius

!32 ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS.

Brilannicus, wluMcin his endeavours were lo sacrifice the fame of
some lord, or any person of quality, and of the king himself, to
the beast Nvith many heads." He soon became popular, and was
known under the name of Captain Needham of Gray's Inn; and
whatever he now wrote was deemed oracular. But whether from a
slight imprisonment for aspersing Charles I. or some pique with
his own party, he requested an audience on his knees with the king,
reconciled himself to his majesty, and showed himself a violent
royalist in his " Blercurius Pragmaticus ," and galled the presby-
terians with his wit and quips. Some time after, when the popular
party prevailed , he was still further enlightened , and was got over
by President Bradshiiw, as easily as by Charles I. Our Mercurial
writer became once more a virulent presbyterian , and lashed the
royalist outrageously in his " Mercurius Politicus-," at length on
the return of Charles II, being now conscious , says our cynical
friend Anthony, that he might bo in danger of the halter, once more
he is said to have fled into Holland , waiting for an act of oblivion.
For money given to a hungry courtier, Needlinm obtained his
pardon under the great seal. He latterly practised as a physician
among his party, but lived detested by the royalists ; and now only
connnilted harmless treasons with the College of Physicians , on
whom he poured all that gall and vinegar which the government
had suppressed from flowing through its natural channel.

The royalists were not without their Needham in the prompt
activity of Sir John Birhetihcad. In buffoonery, keenness, and
boldness, having boon frequently imprisoned, he was not inferior,
nor was he at times less an adventurer. His " Mercurius Aulicus "
was devoted to the court, then at Oxford. But he was the fertile
parent of numerous political pamphlets , which appear to abound
in banter, wit, and satire. Prompt to seize on every temporary cir-
cumstance, he had equal facility in execution. His '•'•Paurs Cluirch
Yard " is a bantering pamphlet, containing fictitious titles of books
and acts of parliament , reflecting on the mad reformers of those
times. One of his poems is entitled " The Jolt ,'" being written on
the Protector having fallen ofl" his own coach-bov : Cromwell had
received a present from tiie German Count 01denburgh,of six Ger-
man horses, and attempted to drive them himself in Hyde Park,
when this great political Phaeton met the accident, of which Sir
.lolin Birkenhead was not slow lo comprehend llie benefit, and
hints how unfortunately for the country it turned out I Sir John
Wits during the dominion of Cromwell an autlior by profession.
After various imprisonments for his majesty's cause , says the ve-
nerable historian of Knglisli literature , already quiMed , " he lived
by his wits , in helping young gentlemen out at dead lifts in making

ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS. !.•];{

poems , songs , and epistles on and to their mistresses ; as also in
translating, and other petite employments. " fie lived however after
the Restoration to become one of the m sters of requests, with a
salary of 3000/. a year. But he showed the baseness of his spirit ,
says Anthony, fay slighting those who had been his benefactors in
his necessities.

Sir Roger L'Estrange among his rivals was esteemed as the
most perfect model of political writing. He was a strong parly-w riler
on the government side , for Charles the Second , and the compo-
sitions of the author seem to us coarse, yet they contain much idio-
matic expression. His .Esop's Fables are a curious specimen of
famihar style. Queen 3Iary showed a due contempt of him aller the
Revolution, by this anagram . —

Roger L'Estrange ,
Lye strange Roger.'

Such were the three patriarchs of newspapers. De Saint Foix
gives the origin of newspapers to France. Renaudot, a physician
at Paris , to amuse his patients was a great collector of news ; and
he found by these means that he was more sought after than his
learned brethren. But as the seasons were not always sickly, and he
had many hours not occupied by his patients, he rellecled . after
several years of assiduity given up to this singular employment,
that he might turn it to a better account , by giving every week to
his patients , w ho in tliis case w ere the public at large , some fugi-
tive sheets which should contain the news of various countries. He
obtained a privilege for this purpose in 1632.

At the Restoration the proceedings of parliament were interdict-
ed to be published , unless by authority ; and the first daily paper
after the Revolution took the popular title of " The Orange Intel-
ligencer."

In the reign of Queen ^«72e, there was but one daily paper ; the
others were weekly. Some attempted to introduce literary subjects ,
and others topics of a more general speculation. Sir Richard Steele
formed the plan of his Tatler. He designed it to embrace the three
provinces, of manners and morals, of literature, and of politics.
The public were to be conducted insensibly into so different a track
from that to which tliey had been hitherto accustomed. Hence po-
litics were admitted into his paper. But it remained for the chaster
genius of Addison to banish this painful topic from his elegant
pages. The writer in polite letters felt himself degraded by sinking
into the diurnal narrator of political events, which so frequently
originate in rumours and party fictions. P'rom this lime, newspapers
and periodical literature became distinct works— at present, there

134 TRIALS AIND PROOFS OF GUILT

seems to be an attempt to revive this union ^ it is a retrograde step
for the independent dignity of literature,

TRIALS AND PROOFS OF GUILT IN SUPERSTITIOUS

AGES.

The strange trials to which those suspected of guilt were put in
the middle ages , conducted with many devout ceremonies by the
ministers of religion, were pronounced to be Wxq judgments of God!
The ordeal consisted of various kinds : walking blindfold amidst
burning ploughshares ^ passing through fires ; holding in the hand
a red hot bar; and plunging the arm into boiling water : the popular
affirmation, — " I will put my hand in the fire to confirm this," was
derived from this custom of our rude ancestors. Challenging the ac-
cuser to single combat , when frequently the stoutest champion was
allowed to supply their place ; swallowing a morsel of consecrated
bread ; sinking or swimming in a river for witchcraft ; or weighing
a witch ; stretching out the arms before the cross , till the champion
soonest wearied dropped his arms , and lost his estate , which was
decided by this very short chancery suit , called the judicium, cru-
cis. The bishop of Paris and the abbot of St. Denis disputed about
the patronage of a monastery : Pepin the Short , not being able to
decide on their confused claims , decreed one of these judgments of
God, that of the Cross. The bishop and abbot each chose a 'man ,
and both the men appeared in the chapel , where they stretched out
their arms in the form of a cross. The spectators , more devout than
the mob of the present day, but still the mob, were piously attentive,
but betted however now for one man , now for the other, and criti-
cally watched the slightest motion of the arms. The bishop's man
was first fired : — he let his arms fall . and ruined his patron's cause
for ever. Though sometimes these trials might be eluded by the arti-
fice of the priest, numerous were the innocent victims who unques-
tionably suffered in these superstitious practices.

From llie tenth to the twelfth century they were common. Hilde-
bert, bishop of Mans , being accused of high treason by our William
Rufus, was prepared to undergo one of these trials ; when Ives, bi-
shop of Charlrcs , convinced him that they were against the canons of
the constitutions of the church and adds, that in this manner //zwo-
ccntiam defcndare , est innoceiiliam perdcre.

An abbot of St. Aubin of Angers in 1066 , having refused to pre-
sent a liorse to the Viscount of Tours, which the viscount claimed
in right of his lordship, wlienever an abbot first look possession of
thai abbey ; the ecclesiastic oll'ered to justify liimself by the trial of
{^ ordeal, or by duel, for wliich he proposed to furnish a man. The

m SUPERSTITIOUS AGES. 135

viscount at first agreed to the duel ^ but , reflecting that lliese coui-
bals , tliough sanctioned by tlie churcli , depended wholly on the
skill or vigour of the adversary, and could lliorefore atlord no sub-
stantial proof of the equity of liis claim , he proposed to compromise
the mailer in a manner whicli strongly characterises the limes : he
waived his claim , on condition that the abbot should not forget to
menlionin his prayers himself, his wife, and his brothers ! As the ori-
sons appeared to the abbot , in comparison with the horse , of little
or no value, he accepted the proposal.

In the tenth century the right of representation was not fixed : it
was a question , whether the sons of a son ought to be reckoned
among the children of the family •, and succeed equally with their
uncles, if their fathers happened to die while their grandfathers sur-
vived. This point was decided by one of these combats. The cham-
pion in behalf of the right of children to represent their deceased
father proved victorious. It was then established by a perpetual de-
cree that they should thenceforward share in the inheritance, toge-
ther with their uncles. In the eleventh century the same mode was
practised to decide respecting two rival Z/furg7'e5.' A pair of knights,
clad in complete armour, were the critics to decide which was the
authentic.

If two neighbours , say the capitularies of Dagobert , dispute res-
pecting the boundaries of their possessions, let a piece of lurf of the
contested land be dug up by the judge , and brought by him into the
court 5 the two parties shall touch it with the points of their swords,
calling on God as a witness of their claims ^ — after this let them
combat , and let victory decide on their rights!

In Germany, a solemn circumstance was practised in these judi-
cial combats. In the midst of the lists they placed a bier. — By its side
stood the accuser and the accused ; one at the head and the other at
the foot of the bier , and leaned there for some time in profound
silence , before they began the combat.

The manners of the age are faithfully painted in the ancient Fa-
bliaux. The judicial combat is introduced by a writer of the four-
teenth century in a scene where Pilate challenges Jesus Christ to
single combat. Another describes the person who pierced the side
of Christ as a hnight who jousted -with Jesus.

Judicial combat appears to have been practised by the Jews.
Whenever the rabbins [lad to decide on a dispute about properly
between two parlies , neither of w hich could produce evidence to
substantiate his claim , they terminated it by single combat. The rab-
bins were impressed by a notion that consciousness of right would
give additional confidence and strength to the rightful possessor. It
may, however, be more philosophical to observe that such judicial

136 TRIALS AND PROOFS OF GUILT

combats were more frequently favourable to the criminal tlian to the
innocent, because the bold wicked man is usually more ferocious
and hardy than he whom he singles out as his victim , and who only
wishes to preserve his own quiet enjoyment : — in this case the as-
sailant is the more terrible combatant.

Those accused of robbery were put to trial by a piece of barley-
bread , on which the mass has been said 5 which if they could not
swallow , they were declared guilty. This mode of trial was impro-
ved by adding to the bread a slice of cheese: and such was their
credulity, that they were very particular in this holy bread and
cheese called the corsned. The bread was to be of unleavened barley,
and the cheese made of ewe's milk in the month of May.

Du Cange observed, that the expression — " May this piece of
bread choke me!'' comes from this custom. The anecdote of Earl
Godwin's death by swallowing a piece of bread , in making this as-
severation , is recorded in our history. Doubtless superstition would
often terrify the innocent person , in the attempt of swallowing a
consecrated morsel.

Among the proofs of guilt in superstitious ages was that of the
bleeding of a corpse. It was believed that at the touch or approach
of the murderer the blood gushed out of the murdered. By the side
of the bier, if the slightest change was observable in the eyes , the
mouth , feet , or hands of the corpse , the murderer was conjectured
to be present, and many innocent spectators must have suffered
death. " When a body is full of blood , warmed by a sudden exter-
nal heat and a putrefaction coming on , some of the blood-vessels will
burst, as they will all in time." This practice was once allowed in
England , and is still looked on in some of the uncivilised parts
of these kingdoms as a detection of the criminal. It forms a solemn
picture in the histories and ballads of our old writers.

llobertson observes that all these absurd institutions were cherish-
ed from the superstitious of the age believing the legendary histories
of those saints , who crowd and disgrace the Roman calendar. These
fabulous miracles had been declared authentic by the bulls of the
popes and the decrees of councils 5 they were greedily swallowed by
the populace ; and whoever believed that the Supreme Being had in-
terposed miraculously on those trivial occasions mentioned in le-
gends , could not but expect the intervention of heaven in these most
solemn appeals. These customs were a substitute for written laws ,
which that barbarous period had not j and as no society can exist
without laws , the ignorance of the people had recourse to these
customs , which , evil and absurd as they were, closed endless con-
troversies. Ordeals are in truth the rude laws of a barbarous people
who have not yet obtained a written code , and not suflicicnlly ad-

m SUPERSTITIOUS AGES. 137

vanced in civilisation to enter into the refined inquiries , the subtile
distinctions , and elaborate investigations , which a court of law
demands.

These ordeals probably originate in that one of Moses called the
" Waters of Jealousy ?" The Greeks likewise had ordeals , for in the
Antigonus of Sophocles, the soldiers olTer to prove their innocence
by handling red-hot iron , and walking between fires. One cannot
but smile at the whimsical ordeals of the Siamese. Among other prac-
tices to discover the justice of a cause , civil or criminal , they arc
particularly attached to using certain consecrated purgative pills,
which they make the contending parties swallows. He who retains
them longest gains his cause ! The practice of giving Indians a con-
secrated grain of rice to swallow is known to discover the thief, in
any company, by the contortions and dismay evident on the counte-
nance of the real thief.

In the middle ages they were acquainted with secrets to pass
unhurt these singular trials. "Voltaire mentions one for undergoing
the ordeal of boiling water. Our late travellers in the East have con-
firmed this statement. The Mevleheh dervises can hold red-hot iron
between their teeth. Such artifices have been often publicly exhibit-
ed at Paris and London. Mr. Sharon Turner observes on the ordeal
of the Anglo-Saxons , that the hand was not to be immediately in-
spected , and was left to the chance of a good constitution to be so
far healed during three days ( the time they required to be bound up
and sealed , before it was examined) as to discover those appear-
ances when inspected, which were allowed to be satisfactory. There
was likewise much preparatory training , suggested by the more
experienced ; besides the accused had an opportunity of going alone
into the church , and making terms with the priest. The few .v^j»ec-
tators were always distant j and cold iron might be substituted, and
the fire diminished at the moment

They possessed secrets and medicaments , to pass through there
trials in perfect security. An [anecdote of these times may serve to
show their readiness. A rivalship existed- between the Austin-friars
and the Jesuits. The father-general of the Austin-friars was dining
with the Jesuits •, and when the table was removed , he entered into
a formal discourse of the superiority of the monastic order, and char-
ged the Jesuits, in unqualified terms, with assuming the title of
" fratres ," while they held not the three vows , which other monks
were obliged to consider as sacred and binding. The general of the
Austin-friars was very eloquent and very authoritative : — And the
superior of the Jesuits was very unlearned , but not half a fool.

The Jesuit avoided entering the list of controversy w ilh the Austin-
friar, but arrested his triumph by asking him if he would see one

13S TRIALS AND PROOFS OF GUILT, etc.

of his friars , w ho pretended to be nothing more than a Jesuit , and
one of the Austin-friar^ who religiously performed the aforesaid
three vows , show instantly which of them would be the readier to
obey his superiors ? The Austin-friar consented. The Jesuit then
turning to one of his brothers , the holy friar Mark , who was wait-
ing on them, said, "Brother Mark , our companions are cold.
I command you, in virtue of the holy obedience you have sworn to
me , to bring here instantly out of the kitchen-fire , and in your
hands , some burning coals , that they may warm themselves over
your hands." Father Mark instantly obeys, and to the astonishment
of the Austin-friar, brought in his hands a supply of red burning coals,
and held them to whoever chose to warm himself^ and at the com-
mand of his superior returned them to the kitchen-hearth. The ge-
neral of the Austin-friars , with the rest of his brotherhood , stood
amazed ; he looked wistfully on one of his monks , as if he wished to
command him to do the like. But the Austin monk, who perfectly
understood him , and saw this was not a time to hesitate , observed ,
— " Reverend father, forbear, and do not command me to tempt
God I I am ready to fetch you fire in a chafing-dish , but not in my
bare hands." The triumph of the Jesuits was complete 5 and it is not
necessary to add , that the miracle was noised about , and that the
Austin-friars could never account for it , notwithstanding their strict
performance of the three vows I

INQUISITION.

Innocent the Third , a pope as enterprising as he was successful
in his enterprises , 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. He called in the aid of temporal arms , and published against
them a crusade, granting, as was usual with the popes on similar
occasions , all kinds of indulgences and pardons to those who should
arm against these Mahometans , so he styled these unfortunate Lan-
guedocians. Once all were Turks when they were not Romanists.
Raymond , Count of Toulouse , was constrained to submit. The inha-
bitants were passed on the edge of the sword , without distinction of
age or sex. It was then he established that scourge of Europe, The
liNQUisiTiON. This pope considered that, though men might be
compelled to submit by arms, numbers might remain professing
particular dogmas ^ and he established this sanguinary tribunal solely
to inspect into all families, and inquire concerning all persons who
they imagined were unfriendly to the interests of Rome. Dominic did
so much i)y his persecuting,' incjuiries, that he firmly established the
in(|uisiti(>n ai Toulouse.

INQUISITIOK. 139

Nol before Ihc year 1484 it became known in Spain. To another
Dominican , John dc Torquemada , the court of Rome owed this
obUgation. As he was the confessor of Queen Isabella , he had ex-
torted 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 expelled from the Spanish realms
multitudes of unfortunate Moors. A few remained , whom, with the
Jews , he compelled to become Christians : they at least assumed
the name ^ but it w as well known that both these nations naturally
respected their own faith , rather than that of the Christians. This
race was afterwards distinguished as Christianos Novos^ and in
forming marriages, the blood of the Hidalgo was considered to lose
its purity by mingling with such a suspicious source.

Torquemada pretended that this dissimulation would greatly hurl
the interests of the holy religion. The queen listened with respectful
diffidence to her confessor j and at length gained over the king to
consent to the estabUshment of this unrelenting tribunal. Torque-
mada , indefatigable in his zeal for the holy chair , in the space of
fourteen years that he exercised the office of chief inquisitor, is said
to have prosecuted near eighty thousand persons , of w hom six thou-
sand were condemned to the flames.

Voltaire attributes the taciturnity of the Spaniards to the universal
horror such proceedings spread. " A general jealousy and suspicion
look possession of all ranks of people : friendship and sociability were
atanend! Brothers were afraid of brothers, fathers of their children.''

The situation and the feelings of one imprisoned in the cells of
the inquisition are forcibly painted by Orobio , a mild , and meek ,
and learned man , whose controversy with Limborch is well known.
When he escaped from Spain he took refuge in Holland , w as cir-
cumcised, and died a philosophical Jew. He has left this admirable
description of himself in the cell of the inquisition. " Inclosed in
this dungeon I could not even find space enough to turn myself
about \ I suffered so much that I felt my brain disordered. I fre-
quently asked myself, am I really Don Bathazaar Orobio who used
to walk about Seville at my pleasure , w ho so greatly enjoyed myself
with my wife and children ? I often imagined that all my life had
only been a dream , and that I really had been born in this dungeon I
The only amusement I could invent was metaphysical disputations. I
was at once opponent, respondent , and praises I ''

In the cathedral at Saragossa is the tomb of a famous inquisitor •,
*six pillars surround this tomb ; to each is chained a IMoor, as prepa-
ratory to his being burnt. On this St. Foix ingeniously observes,
'•'■ Ifevor the Jack Ketch of anv countrv should be rich enough to

140 INQUISITION.

have a splendid tomb, this might serve as an excellent model."

The inquisition punished heretics by fu-e, to elude the maxim,
Ecclesia non novit sanguijiem; for burning a man, say they,
does not shed his blood. Otho , the bishop at the Norman invasion ,
in the tapestry worked by Matilda the queen of William the Con-
queror, is represented with a mace in his hand , for the purpose that
when he despatched his antagonist he might noi spill blood , but
only break his bones ! Religion has had her quibbles as well as law.

The establishment of this despotic order was resisted in France ^
but it may perhaps surprise the reader that a recorder of London ,
in a speech, urged the necessity of setting up an inquisition in En-
gland! It was on the trial of Penn the Quaker, in 1670, who was
acquitted by the jury , which highly provoked the said recorder.
" Magna Chaita,'" writes the prefacer to the trial, " with the re-
corder of London , is nothing mcce than Magna F / " It ap-
pears that the jury, after being kept two days and two nights to alter
their verdict , were in the end both fined and imprisoned. Sir John
Howell , the recorder, said , " Till now I never understood the rea-
son of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the in-
quisition among them ; and certainly it will not be well with us , till
something like unto the Spanish inquisition be in England. "
Thus it will ever be , while both parties struggling for the pre-emi-
nence rush to the sharp extremity of things , and annihilate the trem-
bling balance of the constitution. But the adopted motto of Lord
Eriikine must ever be that of every Briton, " Trial by Jury."

So late as the year 1761 , Gabriel Malagrida, an old man of seventy,
was burnt by these evangelical executioners. His trial was printed at
Amsterdam , 1762, from the Lisbon copy. And for what was this
unhappy Jesuit condemned ? Not , as some have imagined , for his
having been concerned in a conspiracy against the king of Portugal.
No other charge is laid to him in this trial but that of having indulged
certain heretical notions , which any other tribunal but that of the
inquisition would have looked upon as the delirious fancies of a
fanatical old man. Will posterity believe that in the eighteenth cen-
tury an aged visionary was led to the stake for having said,
amongst other extravagances, that "^'Thc holy Virgin having com-
manded him to write the life of Anti-Christ , told him that he , Mala-
grida , was a second John , but more clear than John the Evangelist ^
that there were to be three Anti-Christs, and that the last should be
born at Milan, of a monk and a nun, in the year 1920^ and that he
would marry Proserpine, one of the infernal furies.''

For such ravings as these the unhappy old man was burnt in
recent times. Granger assures us that in his remembrance a horse
that had been taught to tell the spo'.s upon cards , the hour of the

INQUISITION. 141

day, clc. by significant tokens, was , together with his owner, put
into the inquisition for both of them dcaHng with the devil ! A nriaii
of letters declared that , having fallen into their hands , nothing
perplexed him so much as the ignorance of the inquisitor and his
council : and it seemed very doubtful whether they had read even
the scriptures.

One of the most interesting anecdotes relating to the terrible in-
quisition , exemplifying how the use of the diabolical engines of
torture forces men to confess crimes they have not been guilty of,
was related to me by a Portuguese gentleman.

A nobleman in Lisbon having heard that his physician and friend
was imprisoned by the inquisition , under the stale pretext of Judaism,
addressed a letter to one of them to request his freedom , assuring the
inquisitor that his friend was as orthodox a christian as himself. The
physician , notwithstanding this high recommendation , was put to
the torture 5 and , as was usually the case , at the height of his suffer-
ings confessed every thing they wished. This enraged the nobleman,
and feigning a dangerous illness he begged the inquisitor would
come to give him his last spiritual aid.

As soon as the Dominican arrived , the lord, who had prepared
his confidential servants , commanded the inquisitor in their pre-
sence to acknowledge himself a Jew, to write his confession , and
to sign it. On the refusal of the inquisitor, the nobleman ordered his
people to put on the inquisitor's head a red-hot helmet , which to
his astonishment , in drawing aside a screen , he beheld glow ing in
a small furnace. At the sight of this new instrument of torture ,
" Luke's iron crown," the monk wrote and subscribed the abhorred
confession. The nobleman then observed, " See now the enormity
of your manner of proceeding with unhappy men I My poor physi-
cian , like you , has confessed Judaism ^ but with this difference ,
only torments have forced that from him which fear alone has drawn
from you!"

The inquisition has not failed of receiving its due praises. Macedo,
a Portuguese Jesuit , has discovered the " Origin of the Liquisition'''
in the terrestrial Paradise , and presumes to allege that God was
the first who began the functions of an inquisitor over Cain and the
workmen of Babel ! Macedo, however, is not so dreaming a person-
age as he appears ^ for he obtained a professor's chair at Padua for
the arguments he delivered at Venice against the pope, which were
published by the title of "The literary Roarings of the Lion at St.
Mark;" besides he is the author of 109 different works; but it is
curious to observe how far our interest is apt to prevail over our
conscience, — Macedo praised the Inquisition up to the skies, while
he sank the pope to nothing I

142 INQUISITION.

Among the great revolutions of this age, and since the last edition
of these vohim^s , the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal is abolished
— but its history enters into that of the human mind ; and the history
of the inquisition by Limborch, translated by Chandler, with a very
curious " Introduction," loses none of its value with the philosophi-
cal mind. This monstrous tribunal of human opinions aimed at the
sovereignty of the intellectual world , without intellect.

In these changeful times , the history of the Inquisition is not the
least mutable. The Inquisition which was abolished has again been
restored — and at the present moment , I know not whether it is
restored or abolished.

SINGULARITIES OBSERVED BY VARIOUS NATIONS IN
THEIR REPASTS.

The philosophical compiler of VEsprit des Usages et des
Coutumes has arranged the greater part of the present article.

The Maldivian islanders eat alone. They retire into the most hidden
parts of their houses; and they drawdown the cloths that serve as
blinds to their windows , that they may eat unobserved. This custom
probably arises from the savage , in early periods of society, con-
cealing 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. The ideas of witchcraft are also widely spread among
barbarians ; and they are not aJittle fearful that some incantation
may be thrown among their victuals.

In noticing the solitary meal of the Maldivian islander, another
reason may be alleged 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 dilTicult matter to settle this equality, they are
condemned to lead this unsociable life.

On the contrary, the islanders of the Philii)pines are remarkably
sociable. Whenever one of them tinds 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.

Saviiges (says Montaigne), when they eat, '■'■ S'essiiiejit les
doigts aux cuisscs , a la bourse des genitoires , et a la plante
des piedsy We cannot forbear exulting in the polished conve-
nience of napkins !

The tables of the rich Chinese shine with a beautiful varnish , and
are covered with silk carpet^ very elegantly worked. They do not
make use of plates , knives , and forks : every guest lias two little
ivory or ebony sticks , which he handles very adioitly.

SINGULARITIES OF VARIOUS NATIONS, dr. i/,.'5

The Olaheiteans , who are naturally sociable , and very gentle in
their manners , feed separately from each other. At the hour of re-
past, the members of each family divide j 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 origi-
nally begun from necessity. It became a 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 eat-
ing when they drink, and from drinking w hen they eat.

When neither decency nor politeness is 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 civihsalion advances , men wish to show their confidence
to their friends : they treat their guests as relations ; and it is said
that in China the master of a house , to give a mark of his politeness,
absents himself while his guests regale themselves at his table with
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 con-
tinue tormenting him till he opens his mouth , then they clap their
hands and dance before him.

No customs seem more ridiculous than those practised by a
Ramschalkan, 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 clothes or dogs •, for his host threatens to heat the cabin , and
oblige him to eat till he dies. The stranger has the right of retalia-

li't SINGULARITIES OF VARIOUS NATIONS, etc.

lion allowed lo him : he treats in the same manner, and exacts the
same presents. Should his host not accept the invitation of him
whom he had so handsomely regaled , in that case the guest would
take possession of his cabin , till he had the presents returned to
him which the other had in so singular a manner obtained.

For this extravagant custom a curious reason has been alleged. It
is meant to put the person to a trial, whose friendship is sought. The
Kamtschadale , who is at the expense 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 con-
tinues heating the cabin to an insupportable degree 5 and for a last
proof of the stranger's constancy and attachment , he exacts more
clothes and more dogs. The host passes through the same ceremonies
in the cabin of the stranger; and he shows, in his turn , with what
degree of fortitude he can defend his friend. The most singular
customs would appear simple, if it were possible for the philosopher
lo understand 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 Kamschatkan kneels before his
guests; 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 mon-
archs of France. After their coronation or consecration , when they
sat at table, the nobility served them on horseback.

MONARCHS.

SA.INT Chrysostom has this very acute observation on hings :
many monarchs are infected with a 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 appear the more
splendid by the contrast •, and the bad desire it, as they consider such
kings will serve to countenance their own misdemeanors.

Princes, says Gracian, are willing to be aided, hMinoisurpassed^
which maxim is thus illustrated.

A Spanish lord having frequently played at chess with Philip II.
and won all the games, perceived, when his majesty rose from play,
that he was much riimed with chagrin. The lord, when he returned
home, said to his family, — " My children , we have nothing more
lo do at court : there we must expect no favour ; for Ihe king is

MONARCHS. Ii5

offended at my having won of him every game of chess." — As chess
entirely depends on the genius of the players, and not on fortune,
King Philip the chess-player, conceived he ought to suffer no rival.

This appears still clearer by the anecdote told of the Earl of Sunder-
land, minister to George I., who was partial to the game of chess.
He once played with the Laird of Cluny, and the learnedCunningham,
the editor of Horace. Cunningham, with loo much skill and too
much sincerity , beat his lordship. " The earl was so fretted at his
superiority and surliness, that he dismissed him withoutany reward.
Cluny allowed himself sometimes to be beaten ; and by that means
got his pardon, with something handsome besides."

In the Criticon of Gracian , there is a singular anecdote relative
to kings.

A Polish monarch having quitted his companions v.hen he was
hunting , his courtiers found him , a few days after , in a market-
place, disguised as a porter, and lending out the use of his shoulders
for a few pence. At this they were as much surprised as they were
doubtful at tirst whether the porter could be his majesty. At length
they ventured to express their complaints that so great a personage
should debase himself by so vile an employment. His majesty having
heard them, replied, "Upon my honour, gentlemen, the load
which! quitted is by far heavier than the one you see me carry here :
the weightiest is but a straw, when compared to that world under
which I laboured. I have slept more in four nights than I have
during all my reign. I begin to live, and to be king of myself. Elect
whom you choose. For me , who am so well , it were madness to
return to coujt.'' Another Pohsh king , who succeeded this philo-
sophic monarchical porter, when they placed the sceptre in his
hand, exclaimed, — " I had rather tug at an oarT The vacillating
fortunes of the Polish monarchy present several of these anecdotes^
their monarchs appear to have frequently been philosophers ^ and ,
as the world is made, an excellent philosopher proves but an indif-
ferent king.

Two observations on kings were offered to a courtier with great
nawete by that experienced politician the Duke of Alva. — " Kings
who affect to be familiar with their companions make use of men as
they do of oranges; they take oranges to extract their juice 5 and
when they are well sucked they throw them away. Take care the
king does not do the same to you ; be careful that he does not read
all your thoughts •, otherwise he will throv/ you aside to the back of
his chest, as a book of which he has read enough." " The squeezed
orange," the king of Prussia applied in his dispute with Yoltaire.

When it was suggested to Dr. Johnson that kings must be unhappy
because they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions . easy
I. 10

lie MON CHS.

and unreserved society , he observed that this was an ill-founded notion.
'' Being a king does not exclude a man from such society. Great
kings have always been social. The king of Prussia , the only great
king at present (this was the great Frederic) is very social. Charles
!he Second, the last king of England who was a man of parts, was
social ; our Henries and Edwards were all social."

The marquis of Halifax, in his character of Charles II., has
exhibited a trait in the royal character of a good-natured monarch;
that trait , is sauntering. I transcribe this curious observation ,
which introduces us into a levee.

"• There was as much of laziness as of love in all those hours
which he passed amongst his mistresses, who served only to fdl up
his seraglio, w hilc a bewitching kind of pleasure, called sauntering,
was the sultana queen he delighted in.

''• The thing called sauntering is a stronger temptation to princes
than it is to others. — The being galled with importunities, pursued
from one room to another with asking faces 5 the dismal sound of
unreasonable complaints and ill-grounded pretences; the deformity
of fraud ill-disguised : — all these would make any man run away
from them , and I used to think it was the motive for making him
walk so fast.

OF THE TITLES OF ILLUSTRIOUS, HIGHNESS, AND
EXCELLENCE.

The title of illustrious was never given, till the reign of Constan-
tine, but to those whose reputation was splendid in arms or in letters.
Adulation had not yet adopted this noble word into her vocabulary.
Suetonius composed a book to record those who had possessed this
title ; and, as it was then bestowed, a moderate volume was suflicient
to contain their names.

In the timcof 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 IcngUi , it
became very common; and every son of a prince was illustrious. It
is now a convenient epithet for the poet.

In the rage for titles the ancient lawyers in Italy were not
satisfied by calling kings illustres; they went a step higher, and
would have emperors to be super-illustres, a barbarous coinage of
their own.

In Spain, they published a book of titles for their kings, as well
as for the Portuguese; but Selden Iclls us, that " their Cor/csins
and giving of titles grew at length, through the alfeclation of heaping
great attributes on their princes , to such an insufferable forme, that

OF THE TITLES OF ILLUSTRIOUS, etc. 147

a rcmedie was provided against it." This remedy was an act published
by Philip III. which ordained that all the Cortesins, as they termed
these strange phrases, they had so servilely and ridiculously invent-
ed, should be reduced to a simple subscription, "• To the king our
lord," leaving out tliose fantastical attributes of which every secretary
had vied with his predecessors in increasing the number.

It would fill three or four of these pages to transcribe the lilies
and attributes of the Grand Signor, which he assumes in a letter to
Henry IV. Selden, in his Titles of Honour, first part, p. 140, has
preserved them. This "emperor of victorious emperors," as he
styles himself, at length condescended to agree with the emperor of
Germany, in 1606, that in all their letters and instruments they
should be only styled /at/zer and son : the emperor calling the sultan
his son 5 and the suUan the emperor , in regard of his years , his
father.

Formerly, says Houssaie, the title of highness was only given
to kings ; but now it has become so common that all the great
houses assume it. All the great , says a modern , are desirous of
being confounded with princes , and are ready to seize on the pri-
vileges of royal dignity. We have already come to highness. The
pride of our descendants, 1 suspect , will usurp that of majesty.

Ferdinand , king of Aragon , and his queen Isabella of Castile .
were only treated with the title of highness. Charles was the first
who took that of majesty : not in his quality of king of Spain , but
as emperor. St. Foix informs us , that kings were usually addressed
by the lilies of most illustrious, or your serenity, or your grace ^
but that tlie custom of giving them that of majesty was only esta-
blished by Louis XI. , a prince the least majestic in all his actions ,
his manners , and his exterior — a severe monarch, but no ordinary
man , the Tiberius of France. The manners of this monarch were
most sordid ^ in public audiences he dressed like the meanest of the
people , and affected to sit on an old broken chair, with a filthy dog
on his knees. In a account found of his household, this majestic
prince has a charge made him for two new sleeves sewed on one of
his old doublets.

Formerly kings were apostrophised by the title of your grace.
Henry Till, was the first , says Houssaie , who assumed the title of
highness; and at length majesty. It was Francis I. who saluted
him with this last title , in their interview in the year 1520, though
he called himself only the first gentleman in his kingdom I

So distinct were once the titles of highness, and excellence, that
when Don Juan , the brother of Philip II. , was permitted to tak(>
up the latter title , and the city of Granada saluted him bv the litle

148 OF THE TITLES OF ILLUSTRIOUS, etc.

of highness, it occasioned such serious jealousy at court , that had
he persisted in it, he would have been condemned for treason.

The usual title of carr/Z/mZ^;, about 1600, was sigrwria illastris-
sima^ the Duke of Lerma, the SjMnish minister and cardinal, in his
old age , assumed the title of excellencia reverendissimn. The
church of Rome was in its glory, and to be called reuerend was
then accounted a higher honour than to be styled illustrious. But
by use illustrious grew familiar, and re\>erend vulgar, and at last
the cardinals were distinguished by the title of eminent.

After all these historical notices respecting these titles , the reader
will smile when he is acquainted with the reason of an honest curate
of ]\Iontferrat , who refused to bestow the title of highness on the
duke of Mantua, because he found in his breviary these words, Tu
solus Doininus, tu solus Altissimus ; from all which he concluded,
that none but the Lord was to be honoured with the title of
highness! The "Titles of Honour'' of Selden is a very curious
volume , and , as the learned Usher told Evelyn , the most valuable
work of this great scholar. The best edition is a folio of about
1000 pages. Selden vindicates the right of a king of England to the
title of emperor.

" And never yet was title did not move ;

And never eke a mind, that title did not love."

TITLES OF SOVEREIGNS.

In countries where despotism exists in all its force, and is gratified
in all its caprices, either the intoxication of power has occasioned
sovereigns to assume the most solemn and the most fantastic titles \
or the royal duties and functions were considered of so high and
extensive a nature , that the people expressed their notion of the
pure monarchical tate by the most energetic descriptions of oriental
fancy.

The chiefs of the Natchez are regarded by their people as the
children of the sun , and they bear the name of their father.

The titles which some chiefs assume are not always honourable
in liiemsclves^ it is sufficient if the people respect them. The king
of Qjiiterva calls himself the great lion] and for this reason lions
arc there so much respected , that they are not allowed to kill them ,
but at certain royal huntings.

The king of Monomotapa is surrounded by musicians and poets,
who adulate him by such refined flatteries as lord of the sun and
moon ', great magician ; and great thief!

The Asiatics have bestowed what to us appear as ridiculous titles
of honour on their princes. The king of Arracan assumes ths

TITLES OF SOVEREIGNS. i iO

following ones : " Emperor of Arracan , possessor of Uie while ele-
phant , and the two ear-rings , and in virtue of this possession legi-
timate heir of Pegu and 13rama ; lord of the twelve provinces of
Bengal , and the twelve kings who place their heads under his
feet. "

His majesty of Ava is called God : when he w riles to a foreign
sovereign he calls himself the king of kings, whom ail others
should obey, as he is the cause of the preservation of ail animals ;
the regulator of the seasons , the absolute master of the ebb and How
of the sea , brother to the sun , and king of tlie four and tw enty
umbrellas I These umbrellas are always carried before him as a
mark of his dignity.

The titles of the kings of Achem are singular, though volu-
minous. The most striking ones are sovereign of the universe, whose
body is luminous as the sun 5 w hom God created to be as accom-
plished as the moon at her plenitude; whose eye glitters like the
northern-star ; a king as spiritual as a ball is round ; who when he
rises shades all his people •, from under w hose feet a sw eet odour
is wafted, etc. etc.

The Kandian sovereign is called Dewo (God). In a deed of gift
he proclaims his extraordinary attributes. '•" The protector of reli-
gion, whose fame is infinite, and of surpassing excellence, exceed-
ing the moon, the unexpanded jessamine buds, the stars, etc.;
whose feet are as fragrant to the noses of other kings as flowers to
bees ; our most noble patron and god by custom , " etc.

Alter a long enumeration of the countries possessed by the king
of Persia, tliey give iiim some poetical distinctions : the branch of
honour j die mirror of -virtue; and the rose of delight.

ROYAL DIVINITIES.

There is a curious dissertation in the " Memoires de TAcademie
des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, ' by tlie Abbe IMongault, '"on
the divine honours which were paid to the governors of provinces
during the Roman republic ; " in their lifetime these originally
began in gratitude, and at length degenerated into ilattery. These
facts curiously sliow how far tlie human mind can advance , w hen
led on by customs that operate invisibly on it , and blind us in our
absurdities. One of these ceremonies was exquisitely ridiculous.
When they voted a statue to a proconsul , they placed it among the
statues of the gods in the festival called Lectisternium, from tlie
ridiculous circumstances of this solemn festival. On that day the
gods were invited to a repast , w hich was how ever spread in various
quarters of the city, to satiate mouths more mortal. The gods were

150 ROYAL DIVINITIES.

however taken down JVom their pedestals , h\id on beds ornamenled
in their temples 5 pillows were placed under their marble heads ^
and while they reposed in this easy posture they were served with
a magnificent repast. When Caesar had conquered Rome, the servile
senate put him to dine witli the gods ! Fatigued by and ashamed of
these honours , he desired the senate to erase from his statue in the
capitol the title they had given him of a demi-god!

The first Roman emperors did not want flatterers , and the adu-
lations lavished on them were extravagant. But perhaps few know
that they were less offensive than the flatterers ol the third century
under the Pagan , and of the fourth under the Christian emperors.
Those who are acquainted with the character of the age of Augus-
tulus have only to look at the one , and the other code, to find an
infinite number of passages which had not been tolerable even 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 fre^-
quenting tumultuous meetings ; and that those who , instigated by a
sacrilegious temerity, dare to oppose the authority o[ our divinity ,
siiall be deprived of their employments, and their estates confiscated."
The letters they write are holy. When the sons speak of their fa-
thers, it is " Their fiither 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, " If
any magistrate , after having concluded a public work , put his
name rather than that of Our Perpetuity , let him be judged guilty
of high-treason. " All this reminds one of " the celestial empire "
of the Chinese.

Whenever the Great Mogul made an observation , Bernier tells
us that some of the first Omrahs lifted up their hands , crying ,
" Wonder ! wonder I wonder ! " And a proverb current in his do-
minion was, " If the king saitli at noonday it is night , you are ti)
say, Behold the moon and the stars I " Such adulation , however,
could not alter the general condition and fortune of this unhappy
being , who became a sovereign without knowing what it is to bo
one. lie was brought out of the seraglio to be placed on the throne,
and it was he rather than the spectators, who might have truly
used the interjection of astonishment !

DETHRONED MONARCHS.

FouTUNE never appears in a more extravagant humour than
when she reduces monarchs to become mendicants. Half a century

DETHRONED MaNARCHS. J 61

ngo il was nol imagined that our own times sliould have to record many
such instances. After having contemplated kins^s raised into divini-
ties, we see them now depressed as beggars. Our own limes, in
two opposite senses , may emphatically be distinguished as the age.
of kings.

In Candide , or the Optimist , there is an admirable stroke of Vol-
taire'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 monnrchs in Eu-
rope , w ho had been deprived of their crowns I

What added to this exquisite satire was , that there were eight
living monarchs at that moment wanderers on the earth ; — a circum-
stance which lias since occurred !

Adelaide, the widow of Lothario king of Italy, one of the most
beautiful woiiien in her age , was besieged in Pavia by Berenger,
who resolved to constrain her to marry his son after Pavia was taken ;
she escaped from her prison with her almoner. The archbishop of
Reggio had offered her an asylum : to reach it , she and her almoner
travelled on foot through the country by night , concealing herself
in the day time among the corn , while the almoner begged for
alms and food through the villages.

The emperor Henry IV. after having been deposed and impri-
soned by his son , Henry Y. , escaped from prison 5 poor, vagrant,
and w ilhoul aid , he entreated the bishop of Spires to grant him a lay
prebend in his church. " I have studied," said he, "and have learn-
(!d to sing, and may therefore be of some service to you." The re-
quest was denied , and he died miserably and obscurely at Liege ,
after having drawn tlie attention of Europe to his victories and his
grandeur !

Mary of Medicis , the widow of Henry the Great, mother of
Louis XIII., mother-in-law of three sovereigns, and regent of
France , frequently wanted the necessai'ies of life , and died a( Co-
logne in the utmost misery. The intrigues of Richelieu compelled
her to exile herself, and live an unhappy fugitive. Her petition
exists, with this supplicatory opening : " Supplie Marie , Reine de
France et de Navarre , disanl , que depuis le 23 Fevrier, elle auroit
616 arr6t6e prisonni6re au chateau de Compiegne , sans etre ni ac-
cusee, ni soupgonnee," etc. Lilly, the astrologer, in his Life and
Death of Ring Charles the First, presents us with a melancholy pic-
ture of this unfortunate monarch. He has also described the person
of the old queen mother of France.

" In the month of August , 1641 , I beheld the old queen-mother
of France departing from London, in company of Thomas Earl of
Arundel. A sad spectacle of mortality il was , and produced fears

152 DETHRONED MONARCHS.

from mine eyes and many other beholders, to see an aged , lean,
decrepit , poor queen , ready for her grave , necessitated to depart
hence, having no place of residence in this world left her, but where
the courtesy of her hard fortune assigned it. She had been the only
stately and magnificent woman of Europe : wife to the greatest king
that ever lived in France; mother unto one king and unto two
queens."

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 could compel this prince to renounce
his crown. He passed over to England , and Elizabeth assisted him
with troops 5 but at length he died in France in great poverty. This
dethroned monarch was happy in one thing, which is indeed rare :
in all his miseries he had a servant , who proved a lender and faithful
friend , and who only desired to participate in his misfortunes , and
to soften his miseries ; and for the recompense 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 would have raised altars , was
Don Diego Bothei , one of the greatest lords of the court of Portu-
gal , and who drew his origin from the kings of Bohemia.

Hume supplies an anecdote of singular royal distress. The queen
of England, with her son Charles , had '•'■ a moderate pension assign-
ed her; but it was so ill paid, and her credit ran so low , that one
morning when the Cardinal de Relz waited on her, she informed
him that her daughter, the princess Henrietta, was obliged to lie
abed for want of a fire to warm her. To such a condition was redu-
ced , in the midst of Paris , a queen of England , and daughter of
Henri IV. of France ! " We find another proof of her extreme po-
verty. Salmasius , after publishing his celebrated political book , in
favour of Charles II , the Defeiisio Regia , was much blamed by
a friend for not having sent a copy to the widowed queen of Charles ,
who, he writes, though poor, would yet have paid the bearer.

The daughter of James the First , who married the Elector Pala-
tine , in her attempts to get her husband crowned , was reduced to
the utmost distress , and wandered frequently in disguise.

A strange anecdote is related of Charles VIT. of France. Our
Henri V. had shrunk his kingdom into the town of Bourges. It is
said that having told a shoemaker, after he had just tried a pair of
his boots , that he had no money to pay for them , Crispin had such
callous feelings that he refused liis majesty the boots. "It is for this
reason," says Comin(>s , ''• ] praise those princes who are on good
terms with the lowest of tlu'ir people; for lh(>y know not at what
hour they may want them."

DETHRONED MONARCHS. 1&3

Many monarchs of Ihis day have experienced more than once the
truth of the reflection of Comincs.

We may add here , that in all conquered countries the descend-
ants of royal families have been found among the dregs of the po-
pulace. An Irish prince has been discovered in the person of a
miserable peasant ^ and in Mexico , its faithful historian Clavigero
notices , that he has known a locksmith w ho was a descendant of
its ancient kings , and a (ailor, the representative of one of its no-
blest families.

FEUDAL CUSTOMS.

Barbauous as the feudal customs were , they were the first at-
tempts at organising European society. The northern nations , in
their irruptions and settlements in Europe , were barbarians inde-
pendent of each other, till a sense of public safety induced these
hordes to confederate. But the private individual reaped no benefit
from the public union 5 on the contrary, he seems to have lost his
wild liberty in the subjugation 5 he in a short time was compelled
to suffer from his chieftain 5 and the curiosity of the philosopher is
excited by contemplating in the feudal customs a barbarous people
carrying into their first social institutions their original ferocity.
The institution of forming cities into communities at length gra-
dually diminished this military and aristocratic tyranny ; and the
freedom of cities , originating in the pursuits of commerce , shook
off the yoke of insolent lordships. A famous ecclesiastical writer of
that day, who had imbibed the feudal prejudices , calls these com-
munities , which were distinguished by the name of libertates
(hence probably our municipal term the liberties) , as "'execrable
invenlions, by which, contrary to law and justice , slaves withdrew
themselves from that obedience which they owed to their masters."
Such was the expiring voice of aristocratic tyranny! This subject
has been ingeniously discussed by Robertson in his preliminary
volume to Charles V. ^ but the following facts constitute the picture
which the historian leaves to be gleaned by the minuter inquirer.

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 serfs , and the villains or country ser-
vants, did not reside in the house of the lord : but they entirely de-
pended on his caprice ; and he sold them , as he did the animals ,
with the field where they Uved, and which they cultivated.

It is difficult to conceive with what insolence the petty lords of
those times tyrannised over their villains : they not only oppressed
their slaves with unremilled labour, instigated by a vile cupidil> ;

154 FEUDAL CUSTOMS

but their whim and caprice led them to inflict miseries without
even any motive of interest.

In Scotland they had a shameful institution of maiden-rights ; and
Malcolm the Third only abolished it , by ordering that they might
be redeemed by a quit-rent. The truth of this circumstance Dal-
rymple has attempted , with excusable patriotism , to render doubt-
ful. There seems , however, to be no doubt of the existence of this
custom; since it also spread through Germany, and various parts
of Europe ; and the French barons extended their domestic tyranny
to three nights of involuntary prostitution. Montesquieu is infinitely
French , when he could turn this shameful species of tyranny into a
bon mot; for he boldly observes on this, ' ' C'etoit Men ces trois nuits-
la quilfalloit choisir : car, pour les autres , on nauroit pas
dojine beaucoup cf argent.'" The legislator in the wit forgot the
feelings of his heart.

Others, to preserve this privilege when they could not enjoy it in
all its extent , thrust their leg booted into the bed of the new mar-
ried-couple. This was called the droit de cidsse. When the bride
was in bed , the esquire or lord performed this ceremony, and stood
there his thigh in the bed, with a lance in his hand : in this
ridiculous attitude he remained till he was tired ; and the bride-
groom was not sulTered to enter the chamber, till his lordship had
retired. Such indecent privileges must have originated in the worst
of intentions 5 and when afterwards they advanced a step in more
humane manners , the ceremonial was preserved from avaricious
motives. Others have compelled tlieir subjects to pass the first night
at the top of a tree, and there to consummate their marriage ; to p ss
the bridal hours in a river 5 or 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 connnandcd the bridegroom to appear in
drawers at their castle, and plunge into a ditch of mud; and some-
limes they were compelled lo beat tlie waters of the ponds to hinder
the frogs from disturbing the lord I

Wardship, or the privilege of guardianship enjoyed by some lord,
was one of the barbarous inventions of the feudal ages ; the guardian
had both the care of the person , and for his own use the revenue of
the estates. This feudal custom was so far abused in England, that
the king sold those lordships to strangers ; and w hen the guardian
had fixed on a marriage for the infant if the youth or maiden did
not agree to this , they Ibrfeited lh(! valu(> of the marriage ; that is,
tlu! sum tlie guardian would have obtained by the olher party had
il taken place. This cruel custom was a source of domestic unhap-

FEUDAL CUSTO>IS. lir,

piness particularly in love-affairs , and has served as the ground-
work of many a pathetic play by our elder dramatists.

There was a lime when the German lords reckoned amongst
ihoir privileges that of robbing on the highways of their terri-
tory ; which ended in raising up the famous Ilansealic Union to
protect their commerce against rapine and avaricious exactions of
toll.

Geoffrey , lord of Coventry, compelled his wife to ride naked on
a white pad through the streets of the tow n ^ that by this mode he
might restore to the inhabitants those privileges of which his w an-
tonness had deprived them. This anecdote some have suspected to
be fictitious from its extreme barbarity ^ but the character of the
middle-ages will admit of any kind of wanton barbarism.

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, leading his horse by the bridle.

The feudal barons frequently combined to share among them-
selves those children of their villains who appeared to be llie most
healthy and serviceable ; or who w ere remarkable for their talents ;
and not unfrequently sold them in their markets.

The feudal servitude is not , even in the present enlightened
limes, 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 re-
volt, and attempt to shake off the pressure of feudal tyranny.

An anecdote of comparatively recent dale displays their unfeeling
caprice. A lord or prince of the northern countries passing through
one of his villages , observed a small assembly of peasants and their
families amusing themselves with dancing. He commands his do-
mestics to part the men from the w omen , and confine them in the
houses. He orders the coals of the women, to be drawn up above
their heads , and tied with their garters. The men were Ihen libe-
rated , and those who did not recognise their w ives in that state
received a severe casligalion.

Absolute dominion hardens the human heart ^ and nobles accus-
tomed to command their bondmen will treat their domestics as slaves,
as capricious or inhuman West Indians treated their domestic
slaves. Those of Siberia punish theirs by a free use of the cudgel or
rod. The Abbe Chappe saw two Russian slaves undress a chamber-
maid , who had by some trifling negligence given offence to her
mistress ; after having uncovered as far as her w aist , one placed
her head betwixt his knees ; the other held her by the feet : while

156 FEUDAL CUSTOMS.

both, armed with two sharp rods, violently lashed her back till it
pleased the domestic tyrant to decree it was enough !

After a perusal of these anecdotes of feudal tyranny, we may ex-
claim with Goldsmith —

" I fly from pkttit tyrants— to the throne."

Mr. Hallam's recent work of the " State of Europe during the
Middle-Ages " renders this short article superfluous in a philoso-
phical view,

GAMING.

Gaming appears to be a universal passion. Some have attempted
to deny its universality 5 they have imagined that it is chiefly pre-
valent in cold climates , where such a passion becomes most capable
of agitating and gratifying the torpid minds of their inhabitants.

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 civilised , the illi-
terate and the learned , are alike captivated by the hope of accumu-
lating wealth without the labours of industry.

Barbeyrac has written an elaborate treatise on gaming , and we
have two quarto volumes by C. Moore on suicide , gaming , and
duelhng, which may be put on the shelf by the side of Barbeyrac.
All these works arc excellent sermons •, but a sermon to a gambler,
a duellist , or a suicide I A dice-box , a sword and pistol , are the
only things that seem to have any power over these unhappy men ,
for ever lost in a labyrinth of their own construction.

I am much pleased with the following thought. " The ancients,"
says the author of Amusemens serieux et comiques , " assembled
to see their gladiators kill one another ; they classed this among
their games! What barbarity ! But are we less barbarous , we who
call a game an assembly who meet at the faro table where the ac-
tors themselves confess they only meet to destroy one another? " In
both these cases the philosopher may perhaps discover their origin
in the listless state of 6'/z«uf requiring an immediate impulse of the
passions •, and very inconsiderate as to the fatal means which procure
the desired agitation.

The most ancient treatise by a modern on (his subject , is said to
b(; by a Frencli physician , one Eckeloo , who published in iri69,
De Aled , sive dc curaitdd Ludemli in Pcciiniam cupidiiate ,
that is, " of games of chance , or a cure for gaming." The treatise
ilscif is only worth noticing from llie circumstance f>f the author
being himself one of llie most inveloralc gamblers ^ lie wrote this

GAMING. 167

work lo convince himself of this folly. But in spite of all his solemn
vows , the prayers of his friends , and his own book perpetually
quoted before his face , he was a great gamester to his last hour !
The same circumstance happened lo Sir John Denham , who also
published a tract against gaming, and to the last remained a game-
ster. They had not the good sense of old Montaigne, who gives the
reason why he gave over gaming. " I used to like formerly games of
chance with cards and dice ; but of that folly I have long been cured
merely because I found that whatever good countenance I put on
when I lost, I did not feel my vexation the less." Goldsmith fell a
victim to this madness. To play any game well requires serious
study, time, and experience. If a literary man plays deeply, he will
be duped even by shallow fellows , or by professed gamblers.

Dice, and that little pugnacious animal the cock^ are the chief
instruments employed by the numerous nations of the East , to agi-
tate their minds and ruin their fortunes \ to which the Chinese, who
are desperate gamesters , add the use of cards. When all other pro-
perty is played away , the Asiatic gambler scruples not to stake his
\v//e 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 characterises 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 whom the raving gamester meets. He
intoxicates himself with opium ^ and working himself into a fit of
frenzy, he bites or kills every one who comes in his way. But as
soon as this lock is seen flowing , it is lawjul to fire at the person
and to destroy him as fast as possible. This custom is what is called
"■ To run a muck." Thus Dryden writes —

" Frontless and satire-proof, lie scours the streets ,
And runs ^n Indian muck at all Le meets."

Thus also Pope —

" Satire's my weapon , but I'm too discreet
To run a muck , aud tilt at all I meet."

.Tohnson could not discover the derivation of the word muck. To
'" run a muck" is an old phrase for attacking madly and indiscrimi-
nately ; and has since been ascertained to be a IMalay word.

To discharge their gambling debts , the Siamese sell their pos-
sessions , their families, and at length themselves. The Chinese play

158 GAMING.

night and dny, till they have lost all thoy are worth ; and then they
usually ^o and hang themselves. Such is the propensity of thc^. Japa-
nese 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 run-
ning-matches.— " We saw a man ," says Cook, '•'• 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 ; Persians ,
Grecians . and Romans ; the Goths , and Germans. To notice the
modern ones were a melancholy task : there is hardly a family in
Europe which cannot record , from their own domestic annals , the
dreadful prevalence of this passion.

Gamester and cheater were synonymous terms in the time of
Shakespeare and Jonson : they have hardly lost much of their double
signification in the present day.

The following is a curious picture of a gambling-house , from a
contemporary account, and appears to be an cstabUshment more
systematic even than the " Hells" of the present day.

" A list of the oflicers established in the most notorious gaming-
houses," from the Daily Jourival, Jan. 9th, 1731.

1st. A Commissioner , always a proprietor, who looks in of a
night 5 and the week's account is audited by him and two other
proprietors.

2nd. A Director, who superintends the room.

3rd. An Operator, who deals the cards at a cheating game,
called Faro.

4th. Two Crowpees , who watch the cards , and gather the mo-
ney for the bank.

.5th. Two Puffs, who have money given them to decoy others
to play.

6th. A Clerk , who is a check upon the Puffs , to see that they
sink none of the money given them to play with.

7th. A Squib is a puff of lower rank, who serves at half-pay sa-
lary while he is learning to deal.

8th. A Flasheii, to swear how often the bank has been stript.

9th. A DuNNER , who goes about to recover money lost at play.

lOlh, A Waiter, to fill out wine, snuff candles , and attend the
gamin g-room.

nth. An Attorney, a IVewgate solicitor.

12th. A (^\PTMN, wlio is to fighl any genllj'man who is peevish
for losing his money.

GAMING. 159

13lh. An Usher, who lij^hts gcnilemcn up and down stairs,
and jitives the word to the porter.

l^lh, A Porter , who is generally a soldier of the Foot Guards.

15th. An Orderly Man, who walks up and down the outside of
the door, to give notice to the porter, and alarm the house at the
approach of the constable.

16th. A Runner, who is to get intelligence of the justices'
meeting. *

17th. Link-boys , Coachmen, Chairmen , or others who bring
intelligence of the justices' meetings, or of the constables being out,
at half-a-guinea reward.

18th. Common-Bail, Affidavit-3ien , Ruffians, Bravoes,
Assassins , cum multis aliis.

The " Memoirs of the most famaus Gamesters from the Reign of
Charles II. to Queen Anne , by T. Lucas , Esq. 1714 ," appears to
be a bookseller's job ^ but probably a few traditional stories are pre-
served.

THE ARABIC CHRONICLE.

' The Arabic chronicle of Jerusalem is only valuable from the time
of Mahomet. For such is tlie stupid superstition of the Arabs , that
they pride themselves on being ignorant of whatever has passed be-
fore the mission of their Prophet. It contains the most curious infor-
mation concerning the crusades : Longerue translated several por-
tions of this chronicle, which appears to be written with impartiality.
It renders justice to the christian heroes , and particularly dwells on
the gallant actions of the Count de St. Gilles.

Our historians chiefly write concerning Godfrey de Bouillon ;
only the learned know that the Count de St. Gilles acted there so
important a character. The stories of the Saracens are just the re-
verse ; they speak little concerning Godfrey, and eminently distin-
guish 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. Thus Virgil transformed by his magical power the chaste
Dido into a distracted lover ; and Homer the meretrecious Penelope
Into a moaning matron. It is not requisite for poets to be histo-
rians , but historians should not be so frequently poets. The same
charge , I have been told , must be made to the Grecian historians.
The Persians are viewed to great disadvantage in Grecian history. If
would form a curious inquiry, and the result might be unexpected
to some , were the Oriental student to comihent on (he Grecian his-
torians. The Grecians were not the denii-gods they paint themselves
to have been , nor those they attacked the contemptible multitudes

160 THE ARABIC CHRONICLE.

they describe. These boasled victories might be diminished. The
same observation attaches to Caesar's account of his British expedi-
tion. He never records the defeats he frequently experienced. The
national prejudices of the Roman historians have undoubtedly oc-
casioned us to have a very erroneous conception of the Carthagi-
nians , whose discoveries in navigation and commercial enterprises
were the most considerable among the ancients. We must indeed
think highly of that people , whose works on agriculture, which
they had raised into a science , the senate of Rome ordered to be
translated into Latin. They must indeed have been a wise and grave
people. — Yet they are stigmatised by the Romans for faction, cruelty,
and cowardice -, and their bad faith has come dow n to us in a pro-
verb : but Livy was a Roman ! and there is such a thing as a patriotic
malignity !

METEMPSYCHOSIS.

If we except the belief of a future remuneration beyond this life
for suffering virtue , and retribution for successful crimes , there is
no system so simple , and so httle repugnant to our understanding ,
as that of the metempsychosis. The pains and the pleasures of this
life are by this system considered as the recompense or the punish-
ment of our actions in an anterior state : so that , says St. Foix , we
cease to wonder that, among men and animals, some enjoy an easy
and agreeable life, while others seem born only to suffer all kinds of
miseries. Preposterous as this system may appear, it has not wanted
for advocates in the present age , which indeed has revived every
kind of fanciful theories. Mercier, in Dan deux mil quatre cent
quaranle , seriously maintains the present one.

If we seek for the origin of the opinion of the metempsychosis, or
the transmigration of souls into other bodies, we must plunge into
the remotest antiquity 5 and even then we shall find it impossible to
fix the epoch of its first author. The notion was long extant in Greece
before the time of Pythagoras. Herodotus assures us that the Egyp-
tian priests taught it ^ but he does not inform us of the time it be-
gan to spread. It probably 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 with-
out a transmigration of souls. The opinion of the metempsychosis
spread in almost every region of the earth ^ and it continues , even to
the present time , in ;ill its force amongst those nations who have not
yet embraced Clnislianily. The people of Arracan, Peru, Siam, Cam-
boya, Tonquin, Cochin-Chlna , Japan, Java, and Ceylon, still en-
terlain that fancy, which also forms the chief article of the Chinese
religion. The Druids believed in transmigration. The bardic triads

METEMPSYCHOSIS. 161

of Ihe Welsh are full of (his belief; and a Wel^anliquary insists
(hat by an emigration which formerly took place , jt was conveyed
to the Eramins of India from Wales ! The Welsh bards tell us that
the souls of men transmigrate into the bodies of those animjils whose
habits and characters (hey most resemble , till after a circuit of such
l)enitential miseries , they are purified for the celestial presence 5
for man may be converted into a pig or a wolf , till at length he
assumes the inoffensiveness of the dove.

My learned friend Sharon Turner has explained , in his " Vindi-
cation of the ancient British Poems , " p. 231 , the Welsh system of
the metempsychosis. Their bards mention three circles of existence.
The circle of the all-enclosing circle holds nothing alive or dead, but
God. The second circle , that of felicity, is that which men are to
pervade after they have passed through their terrestrial changes.
The circle of evil is that in which human nature passes through those
varying stages of existence which it nmst undergo before it is quaU-
fied to inhabit the circle of felicity.

The progression of man through the circle of evil is marked by
three infelicities : Necessity, oblivion , and deaths. The deaths which
follow our changes are so many escapes from their power. Man is a
free agent, and has the liberty of choosing ; his sufferings and chan-
ges cannot be foreseen. By his misconduct he may happen to fall re-
trograde into the lowest state from which he had emerged. If his con-
duct in any one state , instead of improving his being , had made it
worse, he fell back into a worse condition to commence again his
purifying revolutions. Humanity was flie limit of the degraded trans-
migrations. All the changes above humanity produced fehcity. Hu-
manity is the scene of the contest ^ and after man has traversed every
state of animated existence , and can remember all that he has passed
through , that consummation follows which he attains in the circle
of felicity. It is on this system of transmigration that Tahessin , the
Welsh bard , who wrote in the sixth century, gives a recital of his
pretended transmigrations. He tells how he had been a serpent , a
wild ass , a buck, or a crane , etc. 5 and this kind of reminiscence
of his former state , this recovery of memory, was a proof of the mor-
tal s advances to the happier. For to forget what we have been was
one of the curses of the circle of evil. Taliessin therefore , adds Mr.
Turner, as profusely boasts of his recovered reminiscence as any
modern sectary can do of his state of grace and election.

In all these wild reveries there seems to be a moral fable in the no-
tion , that the clearer a man recollects what a brute he has been , it is
a certain poof that he is in an improved state !

According to the authentic Clavigero, in his history of Mexico, we
find the Pythagorean transmigration carried on in the West , and not
I. ti

Hii METEMPSYCHOSIS

less fancifully tliiy^ in the countries of the East. The people of Tlas-
cala believe that the souls of persons of rank went after their death to
inhabit the bodies of beautiful and sweet singing birds, and those
of the nobler quadrupeds ; while the souls of inferior persons were
supposed to pass into weazels , beetles , and such other meaner
animals.

There is something not a little ludicrous in the description Plu-
tarch gives at the close of his treatise on " the delay of heavenly
justice." Thespesius saw at length the souls of those who were con-
demned to return to life , and whom they violently forced to take the
forms of all kinds of animals. The labourers charged with this trans
formation forged with their instruments certain parts ^ others, a new
form ; and made some totally disappear ; that these souls might be
rendered proper for another kind of life and other habits. Among
these he perceived the soul of Nero, which had already suffered long
torments , and which stuck to the body by nails red from the fire.
The workmen seized on him to make a viper of , under which form
tie was now to live , after having devoured the breast that had car-
ried him. — But in this Plutarch only copies the fine reveries of
Plato.

SPANISH ETIQUETTE.

The etiquette , or rules to be observed in royal palaces , is ne-
cessary 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 coaisequences it produced , one cannot
refrain from smiling.

Philip the Third was gravely seated by the fire-side ; the fire-
maker of the court had kindled so great a quantity of wood , that
the monarch was nearly suffocated with heat , and his grandeur
would not suffer him to rise from the chair •, the domestics could not
presume to enter the apartment, because it was against [\\q eti-
quette. Al length the Marquis de Potat appeared , and the king or-
dered him to damp the fire; but he excused himself-, alleging 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 bu-
siness. The duke was gone out : the fire burnt fiercer ; and the
/i7V/i5 endured it, rather than derogate from \\\s dignity. But his
blood was heated to such a degree , lliat an erysipelas of the head
ai)p(N»red the next day, wliich , succeeded by a violent fever, carried
him olT in 1G21 , in the twenty-fourth year of liis age.

The palace was once on fire ; a soldier, who knew the king's sis-
ter was in her a[)artnienl , and must inevitably have been consumed
in a few moments by Uie ilames , al the risk of liis life rushed in ,

SPANISH ETIQUETTE. 1G3

and brought her highness safe out in his arms : but the Spanish
etiquette was here wofully broken into! The loyal soldier was
brought to trial; and as it was impossible to deny that he had en-
tered her apartment, the judges condemned him to die ! The Spanish
Princess however condescended , in consideration of the circum-
stance, to pardon the soldier, and very benevolently saved his life.
When Isabella , mother of Philip II., was ready to be delivered of
him , she commanded (hat all the lights should be extinguished ; that
if the violence of her pain should occasion her face to change co-
lour, no one might perceive it. And when the midwife said , " Ma-
dam , cry out, that will give you ease" she answered in good
Spanish, " How dare you give me such advice? I would rather
die than cry out."

'' Spain gives us pride — which Spain to all tlie earth
May largely give, nor fear herself a dearth ! "

Churchii,!,.

Philip the Third was a weak bigot , 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 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 \ oyages of the King
Mr. Philip." All these voyages consisted in going to the Escurial from
Madrid, and returning to Madrid from the Escurial. Jests of this
kind at length cost him his life.

THE GOTHS AND HUNS.

The terrific honours which these ferocious nations paid lo their
deceased monarchs are recorded in history, by the interment of At-
tila, king of the Huns , and Alaric, king of the Goths.

Attila died in 453 , and was buried in the midst of a vast cham-
paign in a coffin which was inclosed in one of gold, another of silver,
and a third of iron. Willi 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 pa-
laces of the kings they had pillaged \ and that the place of his inter-

1G4 J'HE GOniS AND HUNfJ.

ment might for ever remain concealed , the Huns deprived of life
all who assisted at his burial !

Tlie Goths had done nearly the same for Alaric in 410, at Cosenga,
a town in Calabria. They turned aside the river Vasenlo; and having
formed a grave in the midst of its bed where its course was most
rapid , they interred this king with prodigious accumulations of
riches. After having caused the river to reassume its usual course ,
they murdered , without exception, all those who had been concern-
ed in digging this singular grave.

OF YICARS OF BRAY.

The vicar of Bray, in Berkshire , was a papist under the reign of
Henry the Eighth , and a protestant under Edw ard the Sixth ; he was
a papist again under Mary, and once more became a protestant in
the reign of Elizabeth. When (his scandal to the gown was reproach-
ed for his versatility of religious creeds , and taxed for being a
turncoat and an inconstant changeling, as Fuller expresses it , he re-
plied , " Not so neither •, for if I changed my rehgion , I am sure
I kept true to my principle ; which is , to live and die the vicar of
Bray ! "

This vivacious and reverend hero has given birth to a proverb
peculiar to this county, " The vicar of Bray will be vicar of Bray
still." But how has it happened that this ^vicar should be so noto-
rious, and one in much higher rank, acting the same part, should
have escaped notice? Dr. Kitchen , bishop of Llandaff , from an idle
abbot under Henry YIII. was made a busy bishop ^ protestant under
Edw ard , he returned to his old master under Mary •, and at last took
the oath of supremacy under Elisabeth , and finished as a parliament
protestant. A pun spread the odium of his name; for they said that
he had always loved the Kitclim better than the Chnnh!

DOUGLAS.

Tt may be recorded as a species of Puritanic barbarism, that no
later than (he year I?;')? , a man of genius was persecuted because
he had written a tragedy which tended by no means to hurt the
morals; but, on Ihe contrary , by awakening the piety of domestic
alTeclions with the nobler passions, would rather elevate and purify
the mind.

When Home, the author of the tragedy of Douglas , had it per-
formed at Edinburgh, and because some of the divines, his aquain-
lance, attended the representation , the (;lergy , with liie monastic
spirit of the darkest ages, published l!ie present paper, which 1

DOUGLAS. If...

shall abridge for the conlemplalion of the reader, who may wonder
to see such a composition written in the eifihleenth century.

"On Wednesday, February the 2nd, 1757 , the Presbytery ol
Glasgow came to the following resolution. They having seen a
printed paper, intituled , ' An admonition and exhortation of the
reverend Presbytery of Edinburgh^' which, auiong other e^'ils pre-
vailing , observing the following melancholy but uoiorious facts :
that one who is a minister of the church of Scotland did himself
write and compose a stage-play, intituled, 'The tragedy of Doug-
las,' and got it to be acted at the theatre of Edinburgh- and thai 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 ajjected with
this new and strange appearance, do publish these sentiments," etc.
Sentiments with which I will not disgust the reader-, but which they
appear not yet to have purified and corrected , as they have show n
in the case of Logan and other Scotchmen, who have committed the
crying sin of composing dramas I

CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY.

Mr. Morin, in the Memoirs of the French Academy, has formed
a little History of Poverty, which I abridge.

The w riters on the genealogies of the gods have not noticed the
deity of poverty , though admitted as sucli in the pagan heaven ,
w hile she has had temples and altars on earth. The allegorical Plato
has pleasingly narrated, that at the feast which Jupiter gave on the
birth of Venus, Poverty modestly stood at the gate of the palace to
gather the fragments of the celestial banquet ; when she observed
the god of riches , inebriated w ith nectar , roll out of the heavenly
residence , and passing into tlic Olympian gardens , throw 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 jolhty and mirth, and his mother in his nudity. The allegory
is ingenious. The union of poverty with riches must inevitably
produce the most delightful of pleasures.

The golden 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 ; the vagrant Cain encountered her. She w as firmly established
in the patriarchal age. 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,

166 CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY.

that he had nothing to reproach himself with respecting the poor,
for he had assisted them in their necessities.

In the scriptures , legislators paid great attention to their relief.
Moses, by his wise precautions , endeavoured to soften the rigours
of this unhappy slate. 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. The Jews under their Theocracy 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 gover-
nors , 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 dreadfully
augmented ; and it was probably for that reason that the opulent
families consecrated a tenth part of their property for their succour,
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 singular nation still practise. If
there are no poor of their nation where they reside , they send it to
the most distant parts. Tlie Jewish merchants 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 the 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 ttral idleness more inevitably inlro-
du(U'd poverty than any other cause , it was rigorously punished ;
the Egyptians made it criminal, and no vagabonds or mendicants
were suffered under any pretence whatever. Those who were con-
victed of slolhfuliiess, and still refused to labour for the public when
labour was onVredlo them, were punished with death. The famous
Pyramids, arc; llic works of men wiio otherwise had remained vaga-
bonds and mendicants.

The same spirit inspired Greece. Lycurgus ivould not have in his
republic either poor or rich : they lived and h boured in common.
As in the present times , every Ijimily has ils stores and cellars , so
they had luiblic ones, and distributed the jjrov^sions according to
(he ages and conslitulions of the people. If the same regulation was
not precisely observed by the Athenians , the Corinthians , and llw

CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY. IfiT

olher people of Greece, the same maxim existed in full force against
Idleness.

According to the laws of Draco, Solon, etc. 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 th(>m 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 plan opportunities to disturb the
public repose.

The ancient Romans, whose universal object was the public pros-
perity, were not indebted to Greece on this head. One of the prin-
cipal 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
Ihe/ar jiiente as an 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 agmiua cogimt .

CastigaultTue mores."

And if we may trust the narratives of our travellers, the beavers
pursue this regulation more rigorously and exactly 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 which resembled
their inactive dispositions.

Yet , after all , it w as 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. Every
family constantly assisted its branches to save them from being
reduced to beggary: which to them appeared worse than death. The
magistrates protected lliose who were destitute of friends , or inca-
pable 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 dis-
tributers were ordered to exempt those from receiving a share whose

168 CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY.

bad conduct kept them in misery ; for that it was better the lazy
sliould 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 small 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 wealth among tlieir 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 tiie wealthy con-
tinually supplied their distressed brethren : but matters greatly
changed under Constantine. This prince 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 miserable men , who
brought with them urgent wants and corporeal infirmities. The
Christian families were then not numerous ; they could not satisfy
these claimants. The magistrates protected them : they built spa-
cious 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 •, they assisted the helpless ^ they dressed the wounded. This
did so much honour to the new rehgion, that Julian the Apostate
introduced this custom among the pagans. But the best things are
continually perverted.

These retreats were found insulTicient. 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 imprint-
ed marks of their chains. They found Ihus a lucralive profession in
begging, which had been interdicted by tlic 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 succeed-
ing emperors were obliged to institute new laws 5 and individuals
were allowed to seize on these mendicants for their slaves and per-
petual vassals : a powerful preservative against this disorder. It is
observed in almost every part of the world , but ours ; and prevents
that populace of beggary which disgraces Europe. China presents
us with a noble example. No beggars are seen loitering in that
country. All the world are occupied, even to the blind and the
lame •, and only those who are incapable of labour live at the public
expense. What is done tlicn'. may also be performed lieie. Instead
of that hideous, importunate, idle, licentious poverty, as pernicious

CRITICAL HISTORY OF POVERTY. 1G9

to the police as to morality, we should sec the po\erly of the earlier
ages , humble , modest , frugal , robust , industrious , and laborious.
Then , indeed , the fable of Plato might be realised : Poverty may
be embraced by the god of lliches •, and if she did not produce the
voluptuous olTspring of Love , she would become the fertile mother
of Agriculture , and the ingenious parent of the Arts and Manu-
factures.

SOLOMON AND SHEBA.

A RABBIN once told me an ingenious invention, which in the
Talmud is attributed to Solomon.

The power of the monarch had spread his wisdom to the remot-
est parts of the known world. Queen Sheba, attracted by the splend-
our of his reputation , visited this poetical king at his own court ^
there , one day to exercise the sagacity of the monarch , Sheba pre-
sented herself at tiie foot of the throne 5 in each hand she held a
w realh ; the one w as composed of natural , and the other of artifi-
cial, flowers. Art, in the labour of the mimetic wreath, had exqui-
sitely emulated the lively hues of nature ^ so that , at the distance
it was held by the queen for the inspection of the king , it w as deem-
ed impossible for him to decide , as her question imported , w hich
wreath was the production of nature , and which the work of art.
The sagacious Solomon seemed perplexed ] yet to be vanquished ,
though in a trifle, by a trifling woman, irritated his pride. The
son of David , he who had w ritten treatises on the vegetable produc-
tions "from the cedar to the hyssop," to acknowledge himself
outwitted by a woman, with shreds of paper and glazed paintings I
The honour of the monarch's reputation for divine sagacity seemed
diminished , and the w hole Jewish court looked solemn and me-
lancholy. At length , an expedient presented itself to the king 5 and
one it must be confessed worthy of the naturalist. Observing a
cluster of bees hovering about a window, he commanded that it
should be opened : it was opened •, the bees rushed into the court ,
and alighted immediately on one of the w reaths , w hile not a single
one fixed on the other. 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 5 that t/te bee only rests on the
natural beauties , and never fixes on the painted flowers , how-
ever inimitably the colours may be laid on. Applied to the ladies^
this would give it pungency. In the '' Practical Education' of the
Edgeworths , the reader will find a very ingenious conversation
founded on this story.

170 HELL.

HELL.

Oldham , in his " Satires upon the Jesuits," a work which would
admit of a curious commentary, alludes to their " lying legends,"
and the innumerable impositions they practised on the credulous. I
quote a few lines in which he has collected some of those legendary
miracles, which I have noticed in the article Legends, and the
amours of the Virgin Mary are detailed in Vol. IL art. Religious
nouuellettes.

Tell , Low blessed Virgin to come down was seen ,
Like play-liouse punk descending in machine ,
How she writ billet doux and love-discourse ,
Made assignations , i-isits , and amours;
How hosts distrest , her smock for banner wore ,
Which vanquished foes !

how Jish in conventicles met ,

And mackerel were with bait of doctrine caught :

How cattle have judicious hearers been! —

How consecrated hives wilh bells were hung.

And bees kept mass , and holy anthems sung /

How pigs to th' rosary kneel'd , and sheep were taught

To bleat Te Deum and Magnificat ;

'Roy! Jly-Jlap , of church-censure houses rid

Of insects , which at curse oj fryar died.

How ferrying cowls religious pilgruns bore

O'er waves, without the help of sail or oar j

How zealous crab the sacred image bore ,

And swam a catholic to the distant shore.

With shams like these the giddy rout mislead ,

Their folly and tlieir superstition feed.

All these are allusions to the extravagant fictions in " the Golden
Legend." Among ottier gross impositions to deceive the mob, Old-
ham likewise attacks them for certain publications on topics not
less singular. The tales he has recounted , Oldham says , are only
baits for children , like toys at a fair ; but they have their profounder
and higher matters for the learned and the inquisitive. He goes
on : —

One undertakes by scales of miles (o tell
The bounds , dimensions, and extent of heli,^
How many German leagues that realm coutaius !
How many clialdrous Hell each year expends
In coals for roasting Hugonots and friends!
Another frights the rout with useful stories
Of wild Cliinieras, limbos, ruRGAToniEs
Where bloated souls in smoky durance liuug
Like a Westphalia gammon or neat's tongue,
To be rcdccm'd witli masses aud a song.

Satire IV.

HELL. 171

The readers of Oldham , for Oldham must ever have readers ainonj^
the curious in our poetry, have been greatly disappointed in Iho
pompous edition of a Captain Thompson, which illustrates none of
his allusions. In the above lines Oldham alludes to some singular
works.

Treatises and topographical description of hell , PURGAtoRY,
and even heaven, were once the favourite researches among
certain zealous defenders of the Romish church , who exhausted
their ink-horns in building up a Hell to their own taste , or for their
particular purpose. We have a treatise of Cardinal Bellarmin , a
Jesuit , on Purgatory ,• he seems to have the science of a surveyor,
among all the secret tracks and the formidable divisions of" the
bottomless pit."

Bellarmin informs us that there are beneath the earth four different
places , or a profound place divided into four parts. The deepest of
these places is //e/Zj it contains all the souls of the damned, where
will be also their bodies after the resurrection , and likewise 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 fire and the same torments are
alike in both these places , the only difference between Hell and
Purgatory consisting in their duration. Next to Purgatory is the
limbo of those infants who die without having received the sacra-
ment ; and the fourth place is the limbo of the Fathers; that is to
say, of those /M5« me« who died before the death of Christ. But since
the days of the Redeemer, this last division is empty, like an apart-
ment to be let. A later catholic theologist , the famous Tillemont ,
condemns all the illustrious pagajis to the eternal torments of
Hell/ because they lived before the time of Jesus, and therefore
could not be benefited by the redemption I Speaking of young Tibe-
rius , who was compelled to fall on his own sword, Tillemont adds ,
"Thus by his own hand he ended his miserable life, to begin
another, the misery oj which will never end!'''' Yet history
records nothing bad of this prince. Jortin observes that he added
this reflection in his later edition , so that the good man as he grew
older grew more uncharitable in his religious notions. It is in this
manner too that the Benedictine editor of Justin Martyr speaks of
the illustrious pagans. This Father, after highly applauding Socrates,
and a few more who resembled him , inclines to think that they are
not fixed in Hell. But the Benedictine editor takes great pains to
clear the good father from the shameful imputation of supposing
that a virtuous pagan might be saved as well as a Benedictine
monk ! For a curious specimen of this odium iheologicum , see
the " Censure" of the Sorbonne on Marmontels Bolisarius.

172 HELL.

The adverse parly, who were either philosophers or reformers,
received all such informalion with great suspicion. Anthony Cornel-
lius, a lawyer in the 16th century, wrote a small tract, which was so
effectually suppressed, as a monster of atheism, that a copy is now
only to be found in the hands of the curious. This author ridiculed
the absurd and horrid doctrine of infant damnaiion , and was in-
stantly decried as an atheist, and the printer prosecuted to his ruin!
Cfelius Secundus Curio, a noble Italian, published a treatise De
Aniplitudiyie beati regjii Dei, to prove that Heaven has more
inhabitants than Hell, or in his ow n phrase that the elect are more
numerous than the reprobate. However we may incline to smile at
these works , their design was benevolent. They were the first streaks
of the morning light of the Reformation. Even such works assisted
mankind to examine more closely, and hold in greater contempt, the
extravagant ad pernicious doctrines of the domineering papistical
church.

THE ABSENT MAN.

The character of Bruyt'rc s Absent Man has been translated in the
Spectator, and exhibited on the theatre. It is supposed to be a ficti-
tious character, or one highly coloured. It was well known , howe-
ver, to his contemporaries to be the Count de Brancas. The pre-
sent anecdotes concerning the same person have been unknown to,
or forgotten by, Bruyere ^ and are to the full as extraordinary as
those which characterize Menalcas, or the Absent Man.

The count was reading by the fireside , 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 visiter was announced.
Having forgot he had quilted his book, and that it was his child he
held in his hands , he hastily Hung the squalling innocent on the
table.

The count was walking in tlie street, and the Duke de la lloche-
foucault crossed the way to speak to him. — "God bless thee, poor
man ! " exclaimed the count. Rochefoucault smiled , and was begin-
ning to address him : — "Is it not enough," cried the count, inter-
rupting him , and somewhat in a passion ; "is it not enough that I
have said, at lirst, I have nothing for you? Such lazy vagrants as
you hinder a gentleman from walking the streets." llochefoucaull
burst into a loud laugh , and awakening the Absent IVIan from his
lethargy, he was not a little surprised , himself, that he should liave
taken his friend for an importunate mendicant! La I'^onlaine is re-
corded to have been one of the most absent men ■, and Furetic're
relates a most singular instance of this absence of mind. La Fonlaino

THE ABSEIST MAN. 173

allended (he hurial of one of his friends, and some lime afterwards
he called to visit him. At first lie was shocked at the information of
his death 5 but recovering from his surprise, observed — "True!
True! I recollect I went to his funeral. '

WAX- WORK.

We have heard of many curious deceptions occasioned by the
imitative powers of wax-work. A series of anatomical sculptures in
coloured wax was projected by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, under
the direction of Fontana. Twenty apartments have been filled with
tliose curious imitations. They represent in every possible detail ,
and in each successive stage of denudation , the organs of sense and
reproduction ; the muscular, the vascular, the nervous , and the
bony system. They imitate equally well the form , and more exactly
the colouring of nature than injected preparations ^ and they have
been employed to perpetuate many transient phenomena of disease,
of which no other art could have made so lively a record.

There is a species of wax-work , which, though it can hardly
claim the honours of the fine arts , is adapted to afford much plea-
sure. I mean figures of wax , w hich may be modelled with great
truth of character.

Menage has noticed a work of this kind. In the year 1675, the
Duke de Maine received a gilt cabinet, about the size of a moderate
table. On the door was inscribed " Tlie Apartment of Wit.''' The
inside exhibited an alcove and a long gallery. In an arm-chair was
seated the figure of the duke himself composed of wax , the resem-
blance the most perfect imaginable. On one side stood the Duke
de la Rochefoucault , to whon he presented a paper of verses for his
examination. M, 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. Boilcau , 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 philosophical baby-house , interesting for
the personages it imitated , might induce a wish in some philoso-
phers to play once more with one.

There was lately an old canon at Cologne who made a collection
of small wax models of characteristic figures, such as personifications
of Misery, in a haggard old man with a scanty crust and a brown
jug before him ; or of Avarice, in a keen-looking Jew miser count-
ing his gold , which were done with such a spirit and reality that a
Flemish painter, a Hogarth or Wilkie, could hardly have .vorked

174 WAX-WORK.

up Ihe feeling of the figure more impressively. "All these were
done with a truth and expression which I could not have imagined
the wax capable of exhibiting," says the lively writer of "An Autumn
near the Rhine." There is something very infantine in this taste ;
but I lament that it is very rarely gratified by such close copiers of
nature as was this old canon of Cologne.

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 most uncontrolled
despotism. The statue ofPasqiiin (from whence the word pasqui-
nade) and that of Maiforio are placed in Rome in two different
quarters. Maiforio is an ancient statue of Mars found in the Fo-
rum, which the people have corrupted into Maiforio. Pasquin
is a marble statue , greatly mutilated, supposed to be the figure of
a gladiator. To one or other of these statues , during the conceal-
ment of the night , are affixed those satires or lampoons which the
authors wish should be dispersed about Rome without any danger
to themselves. When Maiforio is attacked, Pasquin comes to his
succour; and when Pasquin is the sufferer, he finds in Marforio
a constant defender. Thus , by a thrust and a parry, the most serious
matters are disclosed : and the most illustrious personages are at-
tacked by their enemies , and defended by their friends.

Misson, in his Travels in Italy, gives the following account of
the origin of the name of the statue of Pasquin : —

A satirical tailor, who lived at Rome , and whose name was Pas-
quin, amused himself by severe raillery, liberally bestowed on those
who passed by his shop 5 which in time became the lounge of the
newsmongers. The tailor had precisely the talents to head a regi-
ment of satirical wits; and had he had time io publish, he would
have been the Peter Pindar of his day ; but his genius seems to have
been satisfied to rest crosslegged on his shopboard. When any lam-
poons or amusing bon-mots were current at Rome , they were
usually called , from his shop , pasquinades. After his death this
statue of an ancient gladiator was found under the pavement of his
shop. It was soon set up, and by universal consent was inscribed
with his name ; and they still attempt to raise him from the dead ,
and keep the caustic tailor alive , in the marble gladiator of wit.

There is a very rare work, with this title: — " Pasquillorum ,
Tomi Duo." The first containing the verse, and the second the prose
pas(iuinades, published at lUisle, \bA\. Tlu^ rarity of this collection
of satirical pieces is entirely owing to (he arls of suppression prac-
tised by tlu; papal government. Sallengre , in his literary Me-

PASQUIN AND MARFORIO. 176

moirs, has given an a(;(;ounl()f this work; liis own copy had for-
merly belonged to Daniel Heinsius, who, in two verses written in
his hand , describes its rarity and the price it cost.

Roma meos fratres igni dedit , unica PLceaix
Vivo , aureisque venio centum Heinsio.

" Rome gave my brothers to the flames , but I survive a solitary Phoenix.
Heinsius bought me for a hundred golden ducats."

This collection contains a great number of pieces composed at
different times, against the popes, cardinals^ etc. They are not
indeed materials for the historian , and they rihist be taken with
grains of allowance. We find sarcastic epigrams on Leo X., and the
infamous Lucrelia of Alexander YI. : even the corrupt Romans of
the day were capable of expressing themselves with the utmost
freedom. Of Alexander VI. we have an apology for his conduct.

Vendit Alexander claves, altaria, Christum,
Emerat ille prius , vendere jure potest.

" Alexander sells the keys , the altars , and Christ ;
As he bought them first , he had a right to sell them / "

On Lucretia : —

Hoc tumulo dormit Lucretia nomine , sed re
Thais j Alesandri filia , sponsa , nurus !

" Beneath this stone sleeps Lucretia by name, but by nature Thais j the
daughter, the wife , and the daughter-in-law of Alexander! "

Leo X. was a frequent butt for the arrows of Pasquin : —

Sacra sub extrema , si forte requiritis , hora
Cur Leo non potuit sumere ; vendiderat.

*' Do you ask why Leo did not take the sacrament on his deathbed ? — How
could he ? He had sold it ! "

Many of these satirical touches depend on puns. Urban YII., one
of the Barbel ini family, pillaged the pantheon of brass to make
cannon , on which occasion Pasquin was made to say : —

Quod non fecerunt Barbari Romse , fecit Barberini.

On Clement VIL, whose death was said to be occasioned by the
prescriptions of his physician :

Curtlus occidit Clementem , Curtius auro
Donaudus , per quem publica parta salus,

*' Dr. Curtius has killed the pope by his remedies; he ought to be remu-
nerated as a man who has cured ihe state."

176 PASQUIN AND MARFORIO.

The following, on Paul III., are singular conceptions : —

Papa MedusjBum caput est, coma turba Nepotum :
Perseu caede caput , Cssarles periit.

" The pope is the head of Medusa; the horrid tresses are his nephews;
Perseus, cut off the head, and then we shall be rid of these serpent-locks."

Another is sarcastic —

Ut canerent data multa olim sunt Vatibus ara :
Ut taceam ; quantum tu mihi, Paule , dabis?

" Heretofore money was given to poets that they might sing : how much
will you i^ive me , Paul , to be silent ? "

This collection contains, among other classes , passages from the
Scriptures which have been applied to the court of Rome \ to dif-
ferent nations and persons; and one of " Sortes T^irgiliance per
Pasquillum coUect.ce,'' — passages from Virgil frequently happily
applied ; and those who are curious in the history of those times
will find this portion interesting. The work itself is not quite so
rare as Daniel Heinsius imagined ; the price might now reach from
five to ten guineas.

These satirical statues arc placed at opposite ends of the town , so
that there is always sufficient time to make Marforio reply to the
gibes and jeers of Pasquin in walking from one to the other. They
are an ingenious substitute for publishing to the world , what no
Roman newspaper would dare to print.

FEMALE BEAUTY AND ORNAMENTS.

The ladies in Japan gild their teeth •, and those of the Indies
paint them red. Tlic pearl of teeth must be dyed black to be beau-
tiful in Guzerat. In Greenland the women colour their faces with
blue and yellow. However fresh the complexion of a Muscovite may
be , she would think iicrself very ugly if she was not plastered over
with paint. The Chinese must have their feet as diminutive as those
of tlie she-goats-, and to render them thus, their youth is passed in
tortures. In ancient Persia an aquiline nose was often thought
worthy of the crown ; and if there was any competition between
two princes, llie people generally went by (his criterion of majesty.
In some countries , tlie mothers break the noses of their children ^
and in others press the head between two boards , that it may be-
come squaie. Tlie modern Persians have a strong aversion to red
hair : the Turks , on the contrary, are warm adrninM's of it. The
female Hottentot receives from the hand of her lover, not silks nor

FEMALE BEAUTY AIND ORNAMENTS. 177

wreaths of flowers, but warm guts and recking Iripc, to dress herself
with enviable ornaments.

In China small round eyes are liked ; and the girls are continually
plucking their eye-brows , that they may be lliin 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 African beauty must have small eyes, thick lips, a large flat
nose, and a skin beautifully black. The Emperor of IMonomolapa
would not change his amiable negress for the most brilliant Euro-
pean beauty.

An ornament for the nose appears to us perfectly unnecessary.
The Peruvians , however, think otherwise ^ and they hang 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, as 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 fjiir carries on her head the figure of a
certain bird. This bird is composed of copper or of gold, according
to the quahty 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
toj) of the nose 5 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 sUghtest 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 , or lean , without keep-
ing the neck 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.

The inhabitants of the land of Natal 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.

ITS MODERN PLATONISM.

MODERN PLATONISM.

Erasmus in his Age of Religious Revolution expressed an alanii,
which in some shape has been since realized. He strangely, yet
aculely observes , that " literature began to make a great and happy
progress^ but," he adds, "I fear two things— that the study of
Hebrew will promote Judaism , and the study of philology will
revive paganism." lie speaks to the same purpose in the Adages ,
c. 189 , as Jortin observes. Blackwell , in his curious Life of Ho-
mer, after showing that the ancient oracles were the fountains of
knowledge , and that the votaries of the god of Delphi had their
faith confirmed by the oracle's perfect acquaintance with the coun-
try, parentage , and fortunes of the suppliant , and many predictions
verified •, that besides all this , the oracles that have reached us dis-
cover a wide knowledge of every thing relating to Greece-, — this
learned writer is at a loss to account for a knowledge that he thinks
has something divine in it : it was a knowledge to be found nowhere
in Greece but among the Oracles. He would account for this phe-
nomenon , by supposing there existed a succession of learned men
devoted to this purpose. He says , "Either we must admit the know-
ledge of the priests, or turn converts to the ancients , and believe
in the omniscience oj Apollo , which in this age I know nobody
in hazard of.'" Yet to the astonishment of this writer, were he now
living , he would have witnessed this incredible fact ! Even Erasmus
liimself might have wondered.

We discover the origin of modern platonism , as it may be
distinguished , among the Italians. About the middle of the fifteenth
century , some time before the Turks had become masters of Con-
stantinople, a great number of philosophers nourished. Gcmisthus
Pletho was one distinguished by his genius , his erudition , and
his fervent passion for platonism. Mr. Roscoe notices Pletho :
" His discourses had so powerful an effect upon Cosmo de Medici ,
who was his constant auditor, that he established an academy at
Florence , for the sole purpose of cultivating this new and more
elevated species of philosophy." The learned Marsilio Ficino trans-
lated Plotinus , that great archimage of platonic mysticism. Such
were Plctho's eminent abiliUes , that in his old age those whom his
novel system had greatly irritated either feared or respected hinu
He had scarcely breathed his last when they began to abuse Plato
.snd our Pletho. The following account is written by George of Trc
I)izond.

"Lately has risen amongst us a second IMahomet : and this se-
cond , if we do not lake care, will exceed in greatness the first, by

MODERN PLATONISM. 179

Uie dreadful consequences of his wicked doctrine , as the first has
exceeded Plato.. A disciple and rival of this pliilosopher in philoso-
phy, in eloquence, and in science , he had fixed his residence in
(he Peloponnese. His common name was Gemisthus , but he assu-
med that of Plet/io. Perhaps Gemisthus , to make us believe more
easily that he was descended from heaven , and to engage us to re-
ceive more readily his doctrine and his new law, wished to change
his name , according to Ihe manner of the ancient patriarchs ; of
whom if is said , fhaf af the time the name w as changed fhey were
called to the greafesf things. He has written with no vulgar art , and
with no common 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. He was so zealous a platonist that he entertained
no other sentiments than those of Plato , concerning the nature of
the gods, souls, sacrifices , etc. 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 an-
swered, 'Neither one nor the other; but a third, whichjw ill not greatly
differ from paganism.' These words I heard with so much indig-
nation , that since that time I have always hated him : I look upon
him as a dangerous viper ; and I cannot think of him without ab-
horrence,"

The pious writer might have been satisfied to have bestowed a
smile of pity or contempt.

When Pletho died full of years and honours , the malice of his
enemies collected all its venom. This circumstance seems to prove
that his abilities must have been great indeed to have kept such
crowds silent. Several catholic writers lament that his book was
burnt, and regret the loss of Plctho's work; which, they say, was
not designed 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 politics.

Of his religious scheme , the reader may 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 toge-
ther 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 , w ho condemned it to the flames , but who has not

180 MODERIN PLATONISM.

thought proper to enter into the manner of his arguments. The
extravagance of this new legislator appeared above all , in the arti-
cles 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 remo-
test antiquity •, the others younger, and of different ages. He gave
a king to all these gods; and he called him zeys, 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 fdled with such reve-
ries, and with not a few impieties, which my pious author has not
ventured to give.

What were the intentions of Plelho? If the work was only an
arranged system of paganism , or the plalonic philosophy, it might
liavc been an innocent , if not a curious volume. He w as learned
and humane , and had not passed his life entirely in the solitary
recesses of his study.

To strain human curiosity to the utmost limits of human credi-
bility, a inodern Pletho has arisen in Mr. Thomas Taylor, who,
consonant to the platonic philosophy, in the present day religiously
professes polytlieism ! At the close of the eighteenth century, be it
recorded , were published many volumes , in which the author affects
to avow himself a zealous Platonist , and asserts that he can prove
that the Christian religion is "a bastardized and barbarous Plato-
nism ! " The divinities of Plato are the divinities to be adored , and
we are to be taught to call God , Jupiter ; the Virgin , Venus ; and
Christ , Cupid I The Hiad of Homer allegorised , is converted into
a Greek bible of the arcana of nature ! Extraordinary as this literary
lunacy may appear, we must observe , that it stands not singular
in the annals of the history of the human mind. The Florentine
academy, which Cosmo founded , had , no doubt , some classical
enthusiasts; but , who perhaps , according to the political character
of their country, were prudent and reserved. The platonic furor,
however, appears to have reached other countries. In the reign of
Jjouis XII a scholar named Henion de la Fosse, a native of Abbe-
ville, by continually reading the Greek and Latin writers, became
mad enough to persuade himself that it was impossible that the
religion of such great geniuses as Homer, Cicero, and Virgil was
a fals(M)ne. On the 25lh of August , 1503, being at church , he
suddenly snatched the host from the hands of the priest , at the
moment it was raised, exclaiming; "-What I always this folly?''
lie was immediately seized. In the hdpe thai lie would abjure his
extravagant errors, !iiey dolai^cd hispunishnient; but noexlioitaliou

MODERW PLATOINISM. ISl

nor intreatics availed. He persisted in maintaining that Jupiter was
the sovereign God of llie universe , and that there was no other
paradise than the Elysian tields. He was burnt alive , after having
first had his tongue pierced , and his hand cut oil". Thus perished an
ardent and learned youth , who ought only to have 'been condemned
as a Bedlamite.

Dr. More, the most rational of our modern Platonists, abounds,
however, with the most extravagant reveries, and was inllated with
egotism and.enlhusiasm, as much as any of his mystic predecessors.
He conceived that he communed with the divinity itself! that he had
been shot as a fiery dart into the world , and lie hoped he had hit
the mark. He carried his self-conceit to such extravagance , that he
thought his urine smelt like violets , and his body in the spring sea-
son had a sw eet odour; a perieclion peculiar to himself. These vision-
aries indulge the most fanciful vanity.

The "'• sweet odours," and that of '•'• the violets,'' might, howe-
ver liave been real — for they mark a certain stage of the disease of
diabetes, as appears in a medical tract by the elder Dr. Lalliam.

ANECDOTES OF FASHION.

A VOLUME on this subject might be made very curious and enter-
taining, for our ancestors were not less vacillating, and perha[i8
more capriciously grotesque, though with infinitely less taste than
the present generation. Were a philosopher and an artist , as well as
an antiquary, to compose such a work , much diversified entertain-
ment, and some curious investigation of the progress of llie arts
and taste , w ould doubtless be the result -, the subject otherwise ap-
pears of trifling value ; the very farthing pieces of history.

The origin of many fashions was in the endeavour to conceal
some deformity of the inventor : hence the cushions, ruffs, hoops,
and other monstrous devices. If a reigning beauty chanced to have
an unequal hip, those who had very handsome hips would load them
w ilh that false rump which the other was compelled by the unkind-
ness of nature to substitute. Patches were invented in England
in the reign of Edward \\. by a foreign lady, who in this manner
ingeniously covered a wen on her neck. Full-bottomed wigs were
invented by a French barber, one Duviller, whose name tlK^y per-
petuated, for the purpose of concealing an elevation in the shoulder
of the Dauphin. Charles YII. of France introduced long coals to
hide his ill-made legs. Shoes with very long points, full two feet in
length , were invented by Henry Plantagenet , Duke of Anjou , to
conceal a large excrescence on one of his feet. When Francis I.
w as obliged to wear his hair short , ow ing to a wound he received

182 ANECDOTES OF FASHION.

in the head , it became a prevaiUng fashion at court. Others , on
the contrary, adopted fashions to set off their pecuUar beauties ; as
Isabella of Bavaria, remarkable for her gallantry, and the fairness
of her complexion , introduced the fashion of leaving the shoulders
and part of the neck uncovered.

Fashions have frequently originated from circumstances as silly
as the following one. Isabella, daughter of Philip II. and wife of
the Archduke Albert , vowed not to change her linen till Ostend was
taken ; this siege, unluckily for her comfort , lasted three years ; and
the supposed colour of the archduchess's linen gave rise to a fash-
ionable colour , hence called VIsabeau , or the Isabella ; a kind of
whitish-yellow-dingy. Sometimes they originate in some temporary
event : as after the battle of Steenkirk , where the allies wore large
cravats , by which the French frequently seized hold of them , a
circumstance perpetuated on the medals of Louis XIY., cravats were
called Steenkirks ; and after the battle of Ramillies , wigs received
that denomination.

The court, in all ages and in every country, are the modellers
of fashions 5 so that all the ridicule , of which these are so suscep-
tible , must fall on them , and not upon their servile imitators the
citizens. This complaint is made even so far back as in 1586, by
Jean des Caures , an old French moralist , who , in declaiming
against the fashions of his day, notices one, of the ladies carrying
mirrors fixed to their waists , which seemed to employ their eyes
in perpetual activity. Frogi this mode will result , according to ho-
nest Des Caures , their eternal damnation. " Alas! (he exclaims) in
what an age do we live : to sec such depravity which we see , that
induces them even to bring into church these scandalous minors
hanging about their waists! Let all histories divine , human , and
profane , be consulted ^ never will it be found that these objects of
vanity were ever thus brought into public by the most meretricious
of the sex. It is true , at present none but the ladies of the court
venture to wear them ^ but long it will not be before every citizen's
daughter and o^y^ry female servant, will have them ! " Such in
all limes has been the rise and decline of fashion 5 and the absurd
mimickry of the citizens , even of the lowest classes , to their very
ruin , 'in straining to rival the newest fashion , has mortified and
galled the courtier.

On this subject old Camden , in his Remains , relates a story of a
trick played off on a citizen, which 1 give in the plainness of his own
venerable style. " Sir Philip Calthrop purged John Drakes the
shoemaker of Norwich , in the time of King Honry VIII. of the
proud humour ^hich our people has>e to be of the gentlemen' s
cut. This knight bought on a lime as much line French tawny clolh

AMECDOTES OF FASHION. 18 5

as should make him a gow n , and sent it lo the taylor's to be made.
John Drakes, a shoemalcer of that town, coming to this said laylors
and seeing the knight's gown cloth lying there , liking it well, cau-
sed the (aylor lo buy him as much of the same cloth and price to
the same intent, and further bade him to niahe it of the same fa-
shion thai the knii^ht would have his made of. iSot long after ,
the knight coming to the taylor's lo take measure of his gown , per-
ceiving the like cloth lying there , asked of the tajlor whose it was?
Quolli the laylor, it is John Drakes the shoeuiaker who will have it
made of the selfsame fashion that your s is made of 1 ' Weill
said the knight , ' in good time be it ! I will have mine made -as full
of cuts as thy shears can make it.' ' It shall be done I ' said the
taylor ; w hCBeupon , because the time drew near, he made haste to
finish both Iheir garments. John Drakes had no time to go to the
laylors till Christmas-day, for serving his customers , when he
hoped to have worn his gown ^ perceiving the same to he full of
cuts began to swear at the taylor, for the making his gown afler
that sort. ' I have done nothing , ' quoth the taylor, ' but that you
bid me ; for as Sir Philip Calthrop's garment is , even so have I
made yours I ' ' By my latchetl ' quoUi John Drakes, '^ I^vill never
wear gentlejiien s fashions again! ' "

Sometimes fashions are quite reversed in their use in one age
from another. Bags, when first in fashion in France, were only
worn en deshabille ; in visits of ceremony, the hair was tied by a
riband and floated over the shoulders , which is exactly reversed in
the present fashion. In the year 1735 the men had no hats but a
little chapeau de bras ; in 1745 they wore a very small hat •, in 1755
they wore an enormous one , as may be seen in Jeffrey's curious
"Collection of Habits in all Nations." Old Puttenham, in "The
Art of Poesie , " p. 23 9, on the present topic gives some curious in-
formation. " Henry YIII. caused his own head , and all his cour-
tiers , to be polled, and his beard to be cut short; before that
time it was thought more decent, both for old men and young , to
be all shaven, and weare long haire , either rounded or square.
Now again at this time (Elizabeth's reign) , the young gentlemen
of the court have taken up the long haire trayling on their
shoulders , and think this more detent ; for what respect I w ould
be glad to know . "

When the fair sex were accustomed to behold their lovers with
beards , the sight of a shaved chin excited feelings of horror and
aversion 5 as much indeed as , in this less heroic age , w ould a
gallant whose luxuriant beard should

" Stream Lkc a meteor lo the troubled air."

1S4 AKECDOTES OF FASHIOW.

When Louis YIL, lo obey the injunctions of his bishops , cropped
his hair, and shaved his beard, Eleanor, his consort, found him ,
with this unusual appearance , very ridiculous , and soon very con-
temptible. She revenged herself as she thought proper, and the
poor shaved king obtained a divorce. She then married the Count
ofAnjou, afterwards our Henry II. She had for her marriage dower
the rich provinces of Poitou and Guyenne ; and this was the origin
of those wars which for three hundred years ravaged France , and
cost the French three millions of men. All which, probably, had never
occurred , had Louis YII. not been so rash as to crop his head and
shave his beard , by which he became so disgustful in the eyes of
our Queen Eleanor.

We cannot perhaps sympathise with the feelings of ker majesty,
though at Constantinople she might not have been considered
unreasonable. There must be something more powerful in beards
and inustachios than we are quite aware of 5 for when these were
in fashion — and long after this was written the fashion has
returned on us — with w hat enthusiasm were they not contemplated 1
W^hen nmstachios were in general use , an author, in his Elements-
of Education, published in 1640, thinks that " hairy excrement , "
as Armado in " Love's Labour Lost" calls it, contributed to make
men valorous. He says , " I have a favourable opinion of that young
gentleman who is curious in fine nmstachios. The time he employs
in adjusting , dressing , and curling them , is no lost time ; for the
more he contemplates his nmstachios , the more his mind will
cherish and be animated by masculine and courageous notions. "
The best reason that could be given for wearing the longest and
largest beard of any Englishman was that of a worthy clergyman
in Elizabeth's reign , " that no act of his life might be unworthy of
the gravity of his appearance. "

The grandfather of M rs.Thomas , the Corinna of Cromwell ,
the literary friend of Pope , by her account , ^ was very nice in the
mode of that age , his valet being some hours every morning in
starching his beard and curling his whiskers ; during w hich lime
h(^. was always read lo. " Taylor, the water poet, humorously des-
cribes the great variety of beards in his time, which extract may be
found in Grey's Hudibras, vol. I. p. 300. The ()card dwindled
gradually under the two Charleses , till it was reduced into wJiis-
hers, and became extinct in the reign of .lames II. , as if its fatality
had been connected with that of the house of Shiart.

The Hair has in all ages been an endless topic for the declama-
tion of llie moralists , and llie favourite object of fashion. If the
be<ui nionde wore their hair luxuriant, or their wig enormous, Ihe
preachers , in Charles the Secoiid's reign , instantly were seen in

AWECDOTES 01< FASHION. 185

Uic pulpil with Uioir hair cul shorlcr, and Iheir scriiKjn lonji^or, in
consequence; respect was, however, paid by the world to the size
of the ■wig, in spile of the hair-cuUcr in ttic pulpit. Our judges ,
and till lately our physicians, well knew its magical effect. In
the reign of Charles II. the hair-dress of the ladies was very elabo-
rate ^ it was not only curled and frizzled with the nicest art, but set
off with certain artificial curls , then too emphatically known by
the pathetic terms of henrt-breahers and louelucks. So late as
William and Mary, lads , and even children , wore wigs ; and if
they had not wigs, they curled their hair to resemble tliis fashion-
able ornament. Women then were the hair-dressers.

There arc flagrant follies in fashion which must be endured
while they reign , and which never appear ridiculous till tlicy are
out of fashion. In the reign of Henry III. of France, they could
not exist \silhout an abundant use of comfits. All the world, the
grave and the gay, carried in their pockets a covifit-box, as we
do snuff-boxes. They used them even on the most solemn occasions :
when the Duke of Guise was shot at Blois, he was found with his
comfit-box in his hand. — Fashions indeed have been carried to so
extravagant a length, as to have become a public offence, and to
have required the interference of government. Short and fight
breeches were so much the rage in France , that Charles Y. w as
compelled to banish this disgusting mode by edicts which may be
found in Mezeray. An Italian author of the fifteenth century supposes
an Italian traveller of nice modesty would not pass through France,
that he might not be oiTended by seeing men whose clothes rather
exposed their nakedness than hid it. The very same fashion was the
complaint in the remoter period of our Chaucer in his Parson's Tale.

In the reign of our Elizabeth the reverse of all this took place ;
then the mode of enormous breeches was pushed to a most laugh-
able excess. The beaux of that day stuffed out their breeches w ilh
rags , feathers , and other light matters , till they brought them out
to an enormous size. They resembled wool-sacks, and in a public
spectacle they were obliged to raise scaffolds for the seats of these
ponderous beaux. To accord with this fantastical taste , the ladies
invented large hoop farthingales •, two lovers aside could surely ne-
ver have taken one another by the hand. In a preceding reign the
fashion ran on square toes 5 insomuch that a proclamation w as issued
that no person should w ear shoes above six inches square at the toes !
Then succeeded picked-pointed shoes ! The nation was again, in the
reign of Elizabeth , put under the royal authority. " In that time,"
says honest John Stowe , " he was held the greatest gallant that had
the deepest ju/fand longest rapier : the offence to the eye of the
one , and hurt unto the life of the subject that came by the other

186 ANECDOTES OF FASHION.

— this caused lier Majestic to make proclamation against them
both , and to place selected grave citizens at every gate , to cut
the ruffes , and hreake the rapiers points of all passengers that
exceeded a yeard in length of their rapiers , and a nayle of a yeard
in depth of their ruftes." These " grave citizens ," at every gate cut-
ling the ruffs and breaking the rapiers , must doubtless have en-
countered in their ludicrous employment some stubborn opposition ;
but this regulation was in the spirit of that age , despotic and eflec-
lual. Paul , the Emperor of Russia , one day ordered the soldiers to
stop every passenger who wore pantaloons , and with their hangers
to cut off, upon the leg, the offending part of these superfluous
breeches \, so that a man's legs depended greatly on the adroitness
and humanity of a Russ or a Cossack : however this war against pan-
taloons was very successful , and obtained a complete triumph in
favour of the breeches in the course of the week. »

A shameful extravagance in dress has been a most venerable folly.
In the reign of Richard II. their dress was sumptuous beyond belief.
Sir John Arundel had a change of no less than fifty-two new suits
of cloth of gold tissue. The prelates indulged in all the ostentatious
luxury of dress. Chaucer says , they had " chaunge of clothing cve-
rie (iaie." Branlome records of Elizabeth, Queen of Philip II. of
Spain , that she never wore a gown twice \ this was told him by her
majesty's own tailleur, who from a poor man soon became as rich
as any one he knew. Our own Elizabeth left no less than three thou-
sand different habits in her wardrobe when she died. She was pos-
sessed of the dresses of all countries.

The catholic religion has ever considered the pomp of the clerical
habit as not the slightest part of its religious ceremonies ; their devo-
tion is addressed to the eye of the people. In the reign of our catho-
lic Queen Mary, the dress of a priest was costly indeed •, and the
sarcastic and good-humoured Fuller gives , in his Worthies, the will
of a priest, to show the wardrobe of men of his order, and desires
that the priest may not be jeered for the gallantry of his splendid ap-
parel. He bequeaths to various parish churches and persons, " My
vestment of crimson satin — my vestment of crimson velvet —
— my stole and fanon set with pearl — my black gown faced with
lalTeta ," etc.

Chaucer has minutely detailed in " The Parsonc's Talc " the gro-
tesque and the costly fashions of his day •, and the simplicity of the
venerable satirist will interest the antiquary and the philosopher.
[Vluch, and curiously, has liis caustic severity or lenient humour
descanted on the " mochc supcrfluitec," and " wast of cloth in va-
nitee " as well as " the disordinatc scantnesse." In the spirit of the
good old times, he calculates " the coslc of the embrouding or cm

AWECDOTES OF FASHION. 1S7

broidering ^ endenting or barring •, ounding or wavy •, paling or imi-
tating pales 5 and winding or bending ; the costlewe furring in the
gounes ^ so much pounsouing of chesel to maken holes ( that is ,
punched with a bodkin ) ; so moche dagging of shores ( cutting into
slips ) ; with the superfluitee in length of the gounes trailing in the
dong and in the myre , on horse and eke on foot , as wel of man as
of woman — that all thilke IraiHng," he verily believes, which
wastes, consumes, wears threadbare, and is rotten v/ith dung , are
all to the damage of '' the poor folk ," who might be clothed only
out.of the flounces and draggle-tails of these children of vanity. But
then his Parson is not less bitter against " the horrible disordinat
scantnesse of clothing," and very copiously he describes, though
perhaps in terms and with a humour too coarse for me to transcribe,
the consequences of these very tight dresses. Of these persons ,
among other offensive matters, he sees " the buttokkes behind as
if they were the hinder part of a sheape in the ful of the mone." He
notices one of the most grotesque modes , the wearing a parti-co-
loured dress; one stocking part while and part red, so that they look-
ed as if they had been flayed. Or white and blue, or white and
black , or black and red ; this variety of colours gave an appear-
ance to their members of St. Anthony's fire , or cancer, or other
mischance !

The modes of dress during the thirteenth and fourteenth centu-
ries were so various and ridiculous , that they afforded perpetual
food for the eager satirist.

The conquests of Edward III. introduced the French fashions
into England ; and the Scotch adopted them by their alliance with
the French court , and close intercourse with that nation.

Walsingham dates the introduction of French fashions among us
from the taking of Calais in 1347 •, but we appear to have possessed
such a rage for imitation in dress, that an English beau was actually
a fantastical compound of all the fashions in Europe , and even Asia,
in the reign of Elizabeth. In Chaucer's time the prevalence of French
fashions was a common topic with our satirist ; and he notices the
affectation of our female citizens in speaking the French language,
a stroke of satire which, after four centuries, is not obsolete , if ap-
plied to their faulty pronunciation. — In the prologue to the Prio-
resse, Chaucer has these humorous lines. : —

Entewned iu her voice full seemly,
And French she spake full feteously ;
After the Scale of Stratjord at Bo we ,
The French of Paris was to lier unknowe.

A beau of the reign of Henry IV. has been made out by the labo-

188 AINECDOXES 01- I'ASHlOJN.

iious Henry. They wore then long-pointed shoes lo such an iinrno-
derale length , that they could not walk till they were fastened lo
liicir knees with chains. Luxury improving on this ridiculous mode,
these chains the English beau of the fourteenth century had made
of gold and silver •, but the grotesque fashion did not tinish here, for
the tops of their shoes were carved in the manner of a church window.
The ladies of that period were not less lanlastical.

Tlie wild variety of dresses worn in the reign of Henry \III. is
alluded to in a print of a naked Englishman holding apiece of cloth
hanging on his right arm , and a pair of shears in his left hand. It
was invented by Andrew Borde , a facetious wit of those days. The
print bears the following inscription :

I am au linglishmau , aud naked I staud lierc.
Musing iu my mind, what raymeut I sliall were j
For now I will were this, and now I will were thai,
And DOW I will were, what I cannot tell what.

At a lower period, about the reign of Elizabeth, we are present-
ed with a curious picture of a man of fashion by Putlenham, in his
" Arte of Poetry," p. 250. This author was a travelled courtier, and
lias interspersed his curious work with many lively anecdotes of the
times. This is his fantastical beau in the reign of Elizabeth. " May
it not seeme enough for a courtier lo know how lo weave a feather
and set his cappe aflaunl; his chaui en echarpe; a straight ^t<5-
hui , al Inglese ; a loose a la Turquesque •, the cape alia Spa-
niola-, the breech a la Francaise , and by twentie maner of new-
fashioned garments , to disguise his body and his face with as many
countenances ,* whereof it seems there be many that make a very
arte and studie , wlio can shewc himselfe most fine , I will not say
most foohsh or ridiculous." So that a beau of those times wore in
the same dress a grotesque mixture of all the fashions in the world.
About the same period the ton ran in a diiterenl course in France.
Tliere, fasliion consisted in an aifected negligence of dressy for
Montaigne honestly laments in liook i, Ca[). 25. — " 1 have never
yet been apt to imitate the nea;lig;ent i^arb which is yet observable
among the young men of our time •, to wear my cloah on one
shoulder, my bonnet on one side, and one sloching; in something
more disorder than the other, meant lo expn^ss a manly disdain
of such exotic ornaments , and a contempt of art."

Tlie fashions of the Elizabethan age have been chronicled by ho-
nest .John Stowe. Stowe was originally a tailor, and when he laid
down the shears, and look up the pen , the taste and (curiosity for
dress was still lelained. He is the grave chronicler of matters not
grave. The clironology of ruUs , and tufted laifetas •, the levolulion

ANECDOTES Ol- FASHION. 1,sf)

of slec! pokinp;-sticks, insload of bone or wood used by the laundress-
es 5 the invasion of shoe buckles, and the tolal rout of shoe-roses ;
Ihal grand adventure of a certain Flemish lady, who inlroduced (lu;
art of starching the ruIVs with a yellow tinge into JJrilain : wliile
]Mrs. Monlague emulated her in the royal favour, by presenting her
highness the queen with a pair of black silk stockings, instead of
her clolh hose , w hich her majesty now for ever rejected ^ Fhe heroic
achievements of the Right Honourable Edward de Vere, Earl of
Oxford , who first brought from Italy the whole mystery and craft
of perfumery, and costly washes : and among other pleasant things
besides , a perfumed jerkin , a pair of perfumed gloves trimmed wilh
roses , in which the queen took such delight , that she was actually
pictured with those gloves on her royal hands , and for many years
after the scent was called the Earl of Oxford's Perfume. These , and
occurrences as memorable , receive a pleasant kind of historical
pomp in the important, and not incurious, narrative of the anli-
(juary and the tailor. The toilet of Elizabeth was indeed an altar of
devotion ' of which she was the idol , and all her ministers were her
votaries : it was the reign of coquetry, and the golden age of milli-
nery ! But of grace and elegance they had not the slightest feeling I
There is a print by Yertue , of Queen Elizabeth going in a proces-
sion to Lord Hunsdon. This procession is led by Lady Hunsdon, w ho
no doubt was the leader likewise of the fashion ; but it is impossi-
ble , with our ideas of grace and comfort , not to commiserate this
unfortunate lady, whose standing-up wire ruff, rising above her
head; whose stays, or bodice, so long waisted as to reach to her
knees , and the circumference of her large hoop farthingale , which
seems to enclose her in a capacious tub , mark her out as one of the
most pitiable martyrs of ancient modes. The amorous Sir Waller
Raleigh must have found some of the maids of honour the most im-
pregnable fortification his gallant spirit ever assailed : a coup de
main was impossible.

I shall transcribe from old Stowe a few extracts, which may
amuse the reader : —

" In the second yeere of Queen Elizabeth 1560 , her silke wo-
man , Mistris Monlague , presented her majestic for a new yeere's
gift , a pahe of black knit silk stockings , the w hich , after a few
days' wearing, pleased her highness so well , that she sent for IMis-
Iris Monlague , and asked her where she had them , and if she could
help her to any more , who answered , saying , ' I made them very
carefully of purpose only for your majestic . and seeing these please
you so well, I will presently set more in hand. ' Do so (quoth the
tiueene ) , for indeed I like silk stockings so well, because they
are pleasant, fine and delicate, that henceforth I will wear no

15)0 ANECDOTES OF FASHION.

move CLOTH STOCKINGS' — and from that time unto her death the
queene never wore any more cloth hose , but only silke stockings ;
for you shall understand that King Henry the Eight did weare
onely cloath hose , or hose cut out of ell-broade taffaty, or that by
great chance there came a pair of Spanish silk stochings from
Spain. Ring Edward the Sixt had a payre of long Spanish silke
stockings sent him for a great present. — Dukes' daughters then
wore gownes of satten of Bridges (Bruges) upon solemn dayes.
Cushens , and window pillows of welvet and damaske , formerly
only princely furniture , now be very plenteous in most citizens'
houses."

"• Milloners or haberdashers had not then any gloves imbroy dar-
ed, or trimmed with gold, or silke; neither gold nor imbroydered
girdles and hangers , neither could they make any costly wash or
perfume , until about the fifteenth yecre of the queene , the Right
Honourable Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, came from /i«/j,
and brought with him gloves , sweete bagges , a perfumed leather
jerkin , and other pleasant things ; and that yeere the queene had
a pair oj perfumed gloues trimmed only with four tuffes , or j^oses
of coloured silk. The queene tooke such pleasure in those gloves,
that she was pictured with those gloves upon her handes , and for
many years after it was called " The Earl of Oxford's perfume.''

In such a chronology of fashions , an event not less important
surely was the origin of starching ,• and here we find it treated with
the utmost historical dignity.

" In the year 1564, Mislris Dinghen Van den Plasse, borne at
Tsenen in Flaunders , daughter to a worshipfull knight of that
province , with her husband , came to London for their better safe-
ties, and there professed herself a starcher, wherein she excelled ,
unto whom her owne nation presently repaired, and payed her
very liberally for her worke. Some very few of the best and most
curious wives of that time , observing the neatnesse and delicacy
of the Dutch for ■whitenesse and fine wearing of linen , made
tiiem camhricke ruffs , and sent them to Mistris Dinghen to starch ,
and after awhile they made them ruffes cf lawn , which was at
that time a stuff most strange , and wonderfull , and thereupon rose
a general scofje or by-word , that shortly they would make ruffs
of a spider's web; and then they began to send their daughters and
nearest kinswomen to Mistris Dinghen to learn /low to starche;
her usuall price was at that time , foure or five pound , to teach them
how to starch , and twenty shillings how to seeth starch."

Tlius Italy, Holland, and France , supplied us with fashions and
rclincments. But in those days they were , as I have shown from
Pullenham , as extravagant dressers as any of their present sup-

ANECDOTES OF FASHION. 191

posed degenerale dosccndanls. Slowo affords us anodior curious
ox(racl. "-Divers noble personages made Ihem ruffes , aj nil quarter
of ay card deepe , and two lenglhc in t)ne rulfe. This fas/iion in
London was Q,d\\^A\hQ French fashion; but when EngHshnien
came to Paris , tlie French knew it not, and in derision called it
tile English monster.''' An exact parallel this of many of our own
Parisian modes in the present day.

Thi^ was the golden period of cosmetics. The beaux of that day,
it is evident, used the abominable art of painting their faces as well
as the women. Our old comedies abound with perpetual allusions to
oils, tinctures, quintessences, pomatums, perfumes, paint white
and red, etc. One of their prime cosmetics was a frequent use of the
bath , and the application of wine. Slrult quotes from an old MS.
a recipe to make the face of a beautiful red colour. The person was
to be in a bath that he might perspire , and afterwards wash his face
with wine , and " so should be both faire and roddy.' In Mr, Lodge's
"Illustrations of British History," the Earl of Shrewsbury, who
had the keeping of the unfortunate Queen of Scots , complains of
the expenses of the queen 'for bathing in wine, and requires a
further allowance. A learned Scotch professor informed me , that
white wine was used for these purposes. They also made a bath of
n\ilk. Elder beauties bathed in wine , to get rid of their wrinkles ;
and perhaps not without reason , wine being a great astringent. Un-
wrinkled beauties bathed in milh , to preserve the softness and
sleekness of the skin. Our venerable beauties of the Elizabethan age
were initialed coquettes ; and the mysteries of their toilette might
be worth unveiling.

The reign of Charles II. was the dominion of French fashions. In
some respects the taste was a little lighter, but the moral effect of
dress, and which no doubt it has, was much worse. The dress of
our French queen was very inflammatory; and the nudity of the
beauties of the portrait-painter, Sir Peter Lely, has been observed.
The queen of Charles 11. exposed her breast and shoulders without
even the glass of the lightest gauze ^ and the tucker, instead of
standing up on her bosom , is with hcentious boldness turned down,
and lies upon her stays. This custom of baring the bosom was much
exclaimed against by the authors of that age. That honest divine ,
Richard Baxter, wrote a preface to a book, entitled " A just and
seasonable reprehension of naked breasts and slioulders." In
1672 a book was published , entitled , "New instructions unto youth
for their behaviour, and also a discourse upon some innovations of
habits and ^\^%%\x\^\ against powdering of liair , naked breasts,
black spots {OT patches) , and other unseemly customs." A whim-
sical fashion now prevailed among the ladies, of strangely ornament-

1!)2 ANECDOTES OF FASHIOP^.

ing thoir foces wilh abundance of black palches cut into grolcsque
forms, such as a coach and horses, owls, rings, suns, moons,
crowns , cross and crosslcls. The author has prefixed two ladies'
heads; the one representing Virtue, and the other Fice. Virtue
is a lady modestly habited , with a black velvet hood , and a plain
while kerchief on her neck , with a border. Vice wears no hand-
kerchief; her stays cut low, so that they display great part of the
breasts ; and a variety of fanstastical patches on her face. •

The innovations of fashions in the reign of Charles II. were
watched with a jealous eye by the remains of those strict puritans ,
who now could only pour out their bile in such solemn admoni-
tions.^ They affected all possible plainness and sanctity. When
courtiers wore monstrous wigs, they cut their hair short 5 w hen they
adopted hats with broad plumes, they clapped on round black caps,
and screwed up their pale rehgious faces ; and when shoe-buckles
were revived , they wore strings. The sublime Milton , perhaps ,
exulted in his intrepidity of still wearing lalchets ! The Tatler ridi-
cules Sir William Whitlocke for his singularity in still affecting
(hem. " Thou dear TVill Shoestriag , how shall I draw thee? Thou
dear outside, will you be combing your wig , playing with your
box, or picking your teeth, etc." TVigs and snuff-boxes were
then the rage. Steele's own wig, it is recorded, made at one lime* a
considerable part of his annual expenditure. His large black peri-
wig cost him, even at that day, no -less than forty guineas I — We
wear nothing at present in this degree of extravagance. But such a
wig was the idol of fashion , and they were performing perpetually
their worship with infinite self-complacency; combing their wigs
in public was then the very spirit of gallantry and rank. The hero
of Richardson , youthful and elegant as he wished him to be, is
represented waiting at an assignation and describing his sufferings
in bad weather by lamenting that "his wig and his linen were
dripping with the hoar frost dissolving on them." Even Betty,
(ilarissa's lady's maid, is described as " tapping on her snuff-box,'''
and frequently taking snujf. At this time nothing was so monstrous
as the head-dresses of tlie ladies in Queen Anne's reign : they
formed a kind of edifice of three stories high •, and a fashionable
lady of thai day much resembles the mythological figure of Cybele ,
Ihe mother of the gods, with three towers on her head.

It is not worth noticing the changes in fashion , unless to ridicule
them. However, there are some who find anmsemejit in these re-
cords of luxurious idleness ; these thousand and one follies ! Modern
fashions , till very lately a i)urer taste has obtained among our fe-
males, wer(! generally mer(! copies of obsolete ones, and rarely
originally fantastical. The dress oi some of our beaux will only bo

ANECDOTES OF FASHION. 1D3

known in a few years hence by their caricatures. In 1751 the dress
of a dandy is described in the. Inspector. A black velvet coal, a
greeji and silver waistcoat ,j>e/Zow velvet breeches , and blue stock-
ings. This too was the ara of black silk breeches; an extraordi-
nary novelty, against which " some frowsy people attempted to raise
up worsted in emulation." A satirical writer has described a buck
about forty years ago; one could haidly have suspected such a
gentleman to have been one of our contemporaries. " A coat of light
green , w ith sleeves too small for the arms , and buttons too big for
the sleeves •, a pair of Man(^ester tine stuff breeches , without money
in the pockets ; clouded silk stockings , but no legs ; a club of hair
behind larger than the head that carries it ^ a hat of the size of
sixpence on a block not worth a farthing."

As this article may probably arrest the volatile eyes of my fair
readers, let me be permitted to felicitate them on their improvement
in elegance in the forms of their dress ; and the lasle and knowledge
of art which they frequently exhibit. But let me remind them that
there are universal principles of beauty in dress independent of all
fashions. Tacitus remarks of Poppea , the consort of Nero, that she
concealed « part of her face ^ to the end 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
sentiment is beautifully expressed by Tasso , and it w ill not be
difTicult to remember it : —

" Non copre sue bellezze, c uou I'espose."

I conclude by a poem , written in my youth, not only because
the late Sir Walter Scott once repeated some of the lines , from
memory, to remind me of it, and has preserved it in " The English
Minstrelsy," but also as a memorial of some fashions which have
become extinct in my own days.

STANZAS.

ADDRESSED TO LAURA, ENTREATING HER NOT TO TAINT, TO POWEEP. ,
Oa TO GAME, BDT TO RETREAT INTO THE COUNTRY.

Ah, Laura ! quit the noisy town.

And Fashion's persecuting reign :
Healtli wanders on the breezy down ,

And Science on the silent plain.

How !oug from Art's reflected hues

Shalt thou a mimic charm receive ?
Believe , my fair ! the faithful muse ,
They spoil the blush they caimot give.
I- 13

19 i ANECDOTES OF FASHION.

Must ruthless art , with tortuous steel ,

Thy artless locks of gold deface ,
In serpent folds their charms conceal,

And spoil, at every touch, a grace.

Too sweet thy youth's enchanting bloom

To w^aste on midnight's sordid crews :
Let wrinkled age the night consume :

For age has but its lioards to lose.

Sacred to love and sweet repose.

Behold that trellis'd bower is nigh !
That bower the verdant walls enclcMe ,

Safe from pursuing Scandal's eye

Tliere , as in every lock of gold

Some flower of pleasing hue I weave ,
A goddess shall the muse behold.
And many a votive sigh shall heave.

So the rude Tartar's holy rite

A feeble mortai, once array'd;
Then trembled in the mortal's sight, a

And own'd DIVINE the power he made '.

A SENATE OF JESUITS.

In a book entitled " Interets et Maximes des Princes et des Etats
Souverains, par M. le due de Rohan; Cologne, 1666," an anecdote
is recorded concerning the Jesuits , which neither Puffendorf nor
Vertot has noticed in his history.

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. By his wars with
the Ottoman court, w ith Muscovy, and Tartary, compelled to romain
in Poland to encounter these powerful enemies, during fifteen years
he failed in accomplishing his promise. To remedy this in some
shape, by the advice of the Jesuits , who had gained an ascendancy
over him, he created a senate to reside at Stockholm, composed of
forty chosen Jesuits. He presented them with letters-patent , and
invested them with the royal authority.

While this senate of Jesuits was atDantzic, wailing for a fair wind
to set sail for Stockholm , he publislu^d an edict , that the Swedes
should receive them as his own royal person. A public council was
immediately held. Charles, the uncle of Sigismond, Ihe prelates, and
tiic lords , resolved to prepare for them a splendid and magnificent
entry.

' The Lama, or God of the Tartars, is composed of such frail malerial»
as more moit.ilily; conlrived , liowever, by llie jjowor of piicstcraft, lo
apj.cyr iniinorlal; the .tin cession nj' Lamas never failing!

A SENATE OF JESUITS. 195

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. The archbishop rose, and
said, " Since Sigismond has disdained to be our king, we also must
not acknowledge him as such ; and from this moment we should no
longer consider ourselves as his subjects. His authority is in suspe/7so,
because he has bestowed it on the .Jesuits who form this senate. The
people have not yet acknowledged them. In this interval of resigna-
tion on the one side, and assumption on the other, I absolve you all
of the fidelity the king may claim from you as is Swedish subjects."
The prince of Bithynia addressing himself to Prince Charles, uncle
of the king, " 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 hunt 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 now on board
a great galleon , which had anchored 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 this senate. Wheeling
about and forming a caracol of ships, they discharged a volley, and
emptied all their cannon on the galleon bearing this senate , w hich
had its sides pierced through with the balls. The galleon immediate-
ly filled with water and sunk, without one of the unfortunate
Jesuits being assisted; on the contrary, their assailants 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 this ill-
fated senate.

The Jesuits of the city of Stockholm having come, about midnight,
to pay their respects to the Fathers , perceived their loss. They
directly posted up placca-ds of excommunication against Charles and
his adherents, who had caused the senate of Jesuits to perish. They

190 A SEJiATE OF JESUITS.

urged the people to rebel ^ but they were soon expelled 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 ,
(he Muscovites, and the Cossacks, a truce was concluded ; but Sigis-
mond lost both his crowns , by his bigoted attachment to Roman
Catholicism.

THE LOVERS HEART.

The following tale, recorded in the Historical Memoirs of Cham-
pagne , by Bougier, has been a favourite narrative with the old
romance writers; and the principal incident, however objectionable,
has been displayed in several modern poems.

Howel, in his * ' Familiar Letters," in one addressed to Ben Jonson,
recommends it to him as a subject "which peradventure you may
make use of in your way;" and concludes by saying, " in my opinion,
which vails to yours, this is choice and rich stuff for you to put upon
your loom, and make a curious web of."

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 a reciprocal
affection. With the most poignant grief this lady heard from her
lover , that he had resolved to accompany the king and the Count
de Champagne to the wars of the Holy Land ,• but she would 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 ten-
derness. The lady, in quilting her lover, presented him with some
rings, some diamonds, and with a siring 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 tic a magnificent
hood which covered his helmet. This he gratefully accepted.

In Palestine, at the siege of Acre, in 1191, in gloriously ascending
the ramparts, he received a wound, which was declared mortal. He
employed the few moments he had to live in writing to the Lady du
Tavi^l-, and he poured forth the fervour of his soul. He ordered his
squire to embalm his lieart 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 injunction of his master, returned
ti) France, lo present the lieartand tlie gifts to tlie lady of du Fayel.
r.ut wluMi he apj)roa(h(;d the castle of Ihis lady , he concealed
himself in the neighbouring wxtd, watching some favourable ma-

THE LOVER'S HEART. 197

mcnt lo coinplolc his promise. He liad the misfortune to be observed
by the husband of this lady , who recognised him, and who imme-
diately suspected he came in search of his wife with some message
from his master. He threatened to deprive him of his Hfc if he did
not divulge the occasion of his return. The squire assured him that
his master was dead ; but Du Fayel not believing it, drew his sword
on 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 was maddened by the fellest passions, and he
took a wild and horrid revenge. He ordered his cook to mince the
heart; and having mixed it with meat , he caused a favourite ragout,
which he knew pleased the taste of his wife , and had it served to
her. The lady ate heartily of the dish. After the repast, Du Fayel in-
quired 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 thi»
reason that I caused it lo be served to you , for il is a kind of meat
which you very much liked. You have. Madam," the savage Du
Fayel continued, "• eaten the heart of the Lord de Coucy." But this
the lady would not believe, till he showed her the letter of her lover,
with the string of his hair , and the diamonds she had given him.
Shuddering in the anguish of her sensations , and urged by the
utmost despair , she told him — "• It is true that I loved that heart ,
because it merited to be loved : for never could it find its 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 ever be mixed with it." Grief and passion choked
her utterance. She retired to her chamber : she closed the door for
ever; and refusing to accept of consolation or food , the amiabla
victim expired on the fourth day.

THE HISTORY OF GLOVES.

The present learned and curious dissertation is compiled from
the papers of an ingenious antiquary, from the " Present Slate of
the Republic of Letters. " Vol. X. p. 289.

The antiquity of this part of dress will form our first inquiry :,
and we shall then show its various uses in the several ages of the
world.

Il has been imagined that gloves are noticed in the 108th Psalm ,
where the royal prophet declares , he will cast his shoe over Edom ;
and still farther back , supposing them to be used in the times of
the Judges , Ruth iv. 7, where the custom is noticed of a man taking
otT his shoe and giving it to his neighbour, as a pledge for redeem-
ing or exchanging any thing. The word in these two texts, usually

19S THE HISTORY OF GLOVES.

translated shoe by the Chaldee paraphrast , in the latter is rendered"
glove. Casaubon is of opinion that gloves were worn by the Chal-
deans , from the word here mentioned being explained in the
Talmud Lexicon , the clothing of the hand.

Xenophon gives a clear and distinct account of gloves. Speaking
of the manners of the Persians , as a proof of their effeminacy, he
observes , that , not satisfied with covering their head and their
feet , they also guarded their hands against the cold with thick
gloves. Homer, describing Laertes at work in his garden , repre-
sents 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
Rusticd, he says, that olives gathered by the naked hand are prefe-
rable to those gathered with gloves. Athenceus speaks of a cele-
brated 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.

The authorities show that the ancients were not strangers to the
use of gloves, though their use was not common. In a hot climate
to wear gloves implies a considerable degree of effeminacy. We can
more clearly trace the early use of gloves in northern than in
southern nations. 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
shameful that persons in perfect health should clothe their
hands and feet with soft and hairy coverings. Their conve-
nience , however, soon made the 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 re-
markable ; 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 wiis
become so universal , tliat even the church thought a regulation in
that part of dress necessary. In the reign of Louis le Debonaire ,
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.

Gloves, beside their original design for a covering of the hand ,
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

THE HISTORY OF GLOVKS. niO

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 s^lo^e. It was thought so essential a part
of the episcopal habit , that some abbots in France presuming to
wear glosses, the council of Poitiers interposed in the affair, and
forbad them the use , on the same principle as the ring and sandals ;
these being peculiar to bishops , who frequently wore them richly
adorned with jewels.

Favin observes , that the custom of blessing gloves at the coro-
nation 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. The unfortunate Conradui was
deprived of his crown and his life by the usurper Mainfroy. When
having ascended the scaffold, the injured prince lamenting his
hard fate , asserted his right to the crown , and , as a token of inves-
titure , threw his glove among the crowd , intrealing it might be
conveyed to some of his relations, who would revenge his death. It
w as taken up by a knight , and brought to Peter, king of Aragon ,
who in virtue of this glove 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 w as a mark
of divesting him of his office , and of degradation. The Earl of
Carlisle, in the reign of Edward the Second , impeached of holding
a correspondence with the Scots , was 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, " etc.

Another use of gloves was in a duel ^ he w lio threw one down
was by this act 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 ordeals of fire and water, was in succeeding
ages practised for deciding rights and property. Challenging by the
glove was continued down to the reign of Elizabeth , as appears by
an account given by Spelman of a duel appointed to be fought in
Tothill Fields , in the year 157 1 . The dispute was concerning some
lands in the county of Kent. The plaintiffs appeared in court , and
demanded single combat. One of them threw down his glove, which
the other, immediately taking up , carred off on the point of his
sword , and the day of fighting was appointed ^ this affair was
however adjusted by the queen's judicious interference.

The ceremony is till practised of challenging by a glove at the
coronation of the kings of England , by his majesty's champion
entering Westminster Hall completely armed and mounted.

200 THE HISTORY OF GLOVES.

Challenging by the glowe is still in use in some parts of the worlcT.
In Germany , on receiving an affront , to send a gloi^e to the
offending party is a challenge to a duel.

The last use of glomes was for carrying the hawh. In former
times , princes and other great men took so much pleasure in carry-
ing the hawk on their hand , that some of them have chosen to be
represented in this altitude. There is a monument of Philip the
First of France , on which he is represented at length , on his
tomb , holding a glove in his hand.

Chambers says that , formerly, judges were forbid to wear
gloi'es 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 ,• a custom of
great antiquity.

Our curious antiquary has preserved a singular anecdote concern-
ing gloves. Chambers informs us , that it is not safe at present to
enter the stables of princes without pulling off our gloves. He does
not tell us in what the danger consists ; but it is an ancient esta-
blished custom in Germany, 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 if the gloves are not taken off, they are redeemed by
money given to the huntsmen and keepers. The French king never
failed of pulling off one of his gloves on that occasion. The reason
of this ceremony seems to be lost.

We meet with the term glove-money in our old records \ by
which is meant , money given to servants to buy gloves. This pro-
bably is the origin of the phrase giuijig a pair of gloves , to signify
making a present for some favour or service.

Gough in his "Sepulchral Monuments" informs us that gloves
formed no part of the female dress till after the Reformation. 1 have
seen some so late as in Anne's time richly worked and embroidered.

There must exist in the Denny family some of the oldest gloves
extant , as appears by llie following glove anecdote.

At the sale of the Earl of Arran's goods, April 6lh, 1759, the
gloves given by Henry YIII. to Sir Anthony Denny were sold for
38/. 17,s; Ihose given by James I. to liis son Edward Denny for
22/. As. 5 the mittens given by Queen Elizabeih to Sir Edward
Denny's lady, 25/, As. ; all which were bought for Sir Thomas
Donny of Ireland , who was descended in a direct line from the

RELICS OF SAINTS. 5ni

great Sir Anthony Denny , one of the executors of the will (»r
Henry VIII.

RELICS OF SAINTS.

When relics of saints were first introduced , the reUcpje-mania
was universal ; they bought and they sold , and , like other collec-
tors, made no scruple to steal them. It is entertaining to observe
the singular ardour and grasping avidity of some , to enrich them-
selves with these religious morsels ; their little discernment , the
curious impositions of the vender, and the good faith and sincerity
of the purchaser. The prelate of the place sometimes ordained a
fast to implore God that they might not be cheated with the relics
of saints , which he sometimes purchased for the holy benefit of the
village or town.

Guibert de Nogent wrote a treatise on the relics of saints •, ac-
knowledging that there were many false ones, as well as false legends,
he reprobates the inventors of these lying miracles. He wrote his
treatise on the occasion of a tootli of our Lord's , by which the
monks of St. Medard de Soissons pretended to operate miracles. He
asserts that this pretension is as chimerical as that of several persons,
who believed they possessed the navel , and other parts less decent,
of— the body of Christ !

A monk of Bergsvinck has given a history of the translation of
St. Lewin , a virgin and a martyr : her relics were brought from
England to Bergs. He collected with religious care the facts from
his brethren, especially from the conductor of these rehcs from Eng-
land. After the history of the translation , and a panegyric of the
saint , he relates the miracles performed in Flanders since the arrival
of her relics. The prevaiUng passion of the times to possess fragments
of saints is well marked , when the author particularises with a cer-
tain complacency all the knavish modes they used to carry off those
in question. None then objected to this sort of robbery •, because the
gratification of the reigning passion had made it worth while to
supply the demand.

A monk of Cluny has given a history of the translation of the
body of St. Indalece, one of the earhest Spanish bisliops, written
by order of the abbot of St. Juan de la Penna. He protests he ad-
vances nothing but facts : having himself seen , or learnt from other
witnesses , all he relates. It was not difficult for him to be well
informed, since it was to the monastery of St. Juan de la Penna
that the holy relics were transported , and those who brought them
were two monks of that house. He has authenticated his minute
detail of circumstances by giving the names of persons and places.

502 RELICS OF SAINTS.

His account was written for the great festival immediately instituted
ii( honour of this translation. He informs us of the miraculous man-
ner by which they were so fortunate as to discover the body of this
bishop, and the different plans they concerted to carry it off. He
gives the itinerary of the two monks who accompanied the holy
remains. They were not a little cheered in their long journey by
visions and miracles.

Another has written a history of what he calls the translation of
the relics of St. Majean to the monastery of Villemagne. Transla-
tion is in fact only a softened expression for the robbery of the relics
of the saint committed by two monks , who carried them off secretly
to enrich their monastery ^ and they did not hesitate at any artifice or
lie to complete their design. They thought every thing was permitted
to acquire these fragments of mortality, which had now become a
branch of commerce. They even regarded their possessors with an
hostile eye. Such was the religious opinion from the ninth to the
twelfth century. Our Canute commissioned his agent at Rome to
purchase iS«. Augustine's arm for one hundred talents of silver and
one of gold ; a much greater sum , observes Granger, than the finest
statue of antiquity would have then sold for.

Another monk describes a strange act of devotion attested by
several contemporary writers. When the saints did not readily com-
ply with the prayers of their votaries , they flogged their relics with
rods , in a spirit of impatience which they conceived was necessary
to make them bend into compliance.

Theofroy, abbot of Epternac , to raise our admiration , relates
the daily miracles performed by the relics of saints , their ashes ,
Iheir clothes , or other mortal spoils , and even by the instruments
of their martyrdom. He inveighs against that luxury of ornaments
'vhich was indulged under a religious pretext : "It is not to be sup-
posed that the saints are desirous of such a profusion of gold and
silver. They care not that we should raise to them such magnificent
churches , to exhibit that ingenious order of pillars which shine with
gold , nor those rich ceilings , nor those altars sparkling with jewels.
Tliey desire not the purple parchment of price for their writings ,
the liquid gold to embellish the letters , nor the precious stones to
decorate their covers , while you have such little care for the mi-
nisters of the altar." The pious writer has not forgotten himself in
this copartnership with the saints.

The Roman church not being able to deny, says Bayle , that there
have been false relics , which have operated miracles , they reply
that the good intentions of those believers who have recourse to
Ihem obtained from God this reward for their good faith ! In the
same spirit , when it was shown that two or three bodies of the

RELICS OF SAINTS. 803

same saint are said to exist in different places , and that therefore
they all could not fae authentic , it was answered that they were all
genuine ; for God had multiplied and miraculously reproduced them
for the comfort of the faithful ! A curious specimen of the intole-
rance of good sense.

When the Reformation was spread in Lithuania, Prince Radzivil
was so affected by it, that he went in person to pay the pope all
jpossible honours. His holiness on this occasion presented him with
a precious box of relics. The prince having returned home , some
monks entreated permission to try the effects of these relics on a
demoniac, who had hitherto resisted every kind of exorcism. They
were brought into the church with solemn pomp, and deposited on the
altar, accompanied by an innumerable crowd. After the usual con-
jurations , which were unsuccessful , they appUed the relics. The
demoniac instantly recovered. The people called out " a miracle!''
and the prince , lifting his hands and eyes to heaven , felt his faith
confirmed. In this transport of pious joy, he observed that a young
gentleman , who was keeper of this treasure of relics , smiled , and
by his motions ridiculed the miracle. The prince indignantly took
our young keeper of the relics to task ; who , on promise of pardon,
gave the following secret iritelligence concerning them. In travel-
ling from Rome he had lost the box of relics •, and not daring to
mention it , he had procured a similar one , which he had fdled
with the small bones of dogs and cats, and other trifles similar to
what were lost. He hoped he might be forgiven for smiling , when
he found that such a collection of rubbish was idolised with such
pomp, and had even the virtue of expelling demons. It was by the
assistance of this box that the prince discovered the gross impo-
sitions of the monks and the demoniacs , and Radzivil afterwards
became a zealous Lutheran.

The elector Frederic , surnamed the Wise , w as an indefatigable
collector of relics. After his death, one of the monks employed by
him solicited payment for several parcels he had purchased for our
wise elector-, but the times had changed! He was advised to give
over this business •, the relics for which he desired payment they
w ere willing to return ,• that the price had fallen considerably since
the reformation of Luther ^ and that they would find a better mar-
het in Italy than in Germany !

Our Henry III. , who was deeply tainted with the superstition of
the age , summoned all the great in the kingdom to meet in Lon-
don. This summons excited the most general curiosity, and multi-
tudes appeared. The king then acquainted tiiem that the great master
of the Knights Templars had sent him a phial containing a small
portion of the precious blood of Christ which he had shed upon

504 RELICS or SAINTS.

ihe cross; and attested to be genuine by the seals of the patriarch
of Jerusalem and others ! He commanded a procession the following
day ; and the historian adds , that though the road between St. Paul's
and Westminster Abbey was very deep and miry, the king kept his
eyes constantly fixed on the phial. Two monks received it , and
deposited the phial in the abbey, "which made all England shine
with glory, dedicating it to God and St. Edward."

Lord Herbert, in his Life of Henry VIIL , notices the great fall
of the price of relics at the dissolution of the monasteries. " The
respect given to relics , and some pretended miracles , fell 5 in-
somuch , as I find by our records , that a piece of St. Andrew's
finger (covered only with an ounce of silver) , being laid to pledge
by a monastery for forty pounds , was left unredeemed at the dis-
solution of the house ; the king's commissioners , who upon sur-
render of any foundation undertook to pay the debts , refusing to
return the price again." That is, they did not choose to repay the
forty pounds , to receive a piece of the finger of St, Andrew.

About this time the property of relics suddenly sunk to a South-
sea bubble ; for shortly after the artifice of the Rood of Grace , at
Boxley in Kent , was fully opened to the eye of the populace ; and a
far-famed rehc at Hales in Gloucestershire , of the blood of Christ,
was at the same time exhibited. It was shown in a phial , and it was
believed that none could see it who were in mortal sin ; and after
many trials usually repeated to the same person, the deluded pilgrims
at length went away fully satisfied. This relic was the blood of a
duck, renewed every week , and put in a phial ; one side was opa-
que, and the other transparent; the monk turned either side to
the pilgrim , as he thought proper. The success of the pilgrim de-
pended on the oblations he made; those who were scanty in their
offerings were the longest to get a sight of the blood : when a man
was in despair, he usually became generous I

PERPETUAL LAMPS OF THE ANCIENTS.

No. 379 of the Spectator relates an anecdote of a person who had
opened the sepulchre of the famous Rosicrusius. He discovered a
lamp burning , which a statue of clock-work struck into pieces.
Hence the disciples of this visionary said that he made use of this
method to show " that he had re-invented the everburning lamps of
the ancients."

Many writers have made mention of these wonderful lamps.

It has happened frequently that inquisitive men examining with
a flambeau ancient sepulcl)res which had been just opened, the fat
and gross vapours kindled as the llambeau approached them , to the

PERPETUAL LAMPS OF THE AiN'CIENTS. 205

great astonishment of the spectators, who frequently cried out " a
miracle!'' This sudden inflammation, although vcr>' natural, has
given room to believe that these flames proceeded from perpetual
lamps , which some have thought were placed in the tombs of the
ancients , and which . they said , were extinguished at the moment
that these tombs opened , and were penetrated by the exterior air.
The accounts of the perpetual lamps which ancient writers give
have occasioned several ingenious men to search after their compo-
sition. Licetus, who possessed more erudition than love of truth,
has given two receipts for making this eternal fire by a preparation
of certain minerals. More credible writers maintain , that it is pos-
sible to make lamps perpetually burning , and an oil at once in-
flammable and inconsumable ; but Boyle , assisted by several
experiments made on the air-pump , found that these lights , w hich
have been viewed in opening tombs . proceeded from the collision
of fresh air. This reasonable observation conciliates all , and does
not compel us to deny the accounts.

The story of the lamp of Rosicrusius , even if it ever had the
slightest foundation , only ow es its origin to the spirit of party ,
which at the time would have persuaded the world that Rosicrusius
had at least discovered something.

It was reserved for modern discoveries in chemistry to prove that
air was not only necessary for a medium to the existence of the
flame , w hich indeed the air-pump had already shown •, but also as a
constituent part of the inflammation , and without which a body ,
otherwise very inflammable in all its parts , cannot , however, burn
but in its superficies , w hich alone is in contact w ilh the ambient air.

NATURAL PRODUCTIONS RESEMBLING ARTIFICIAL
COMPOSITIONS.

Some stones are preserved by the curious, for representing
distinctly figures traced by natuie alone , and without the aid of art.

Phny mentions an agate , in w hich appeared , formed by the hand
of nature, Apollo amidst the Nine Muses holding a harp. At Venice
another may be seen , in which is naturally formed the perfect fi-
gure of a man. At Pisa, in the church of St. John, there is a similar
natural production , which represents an old hermit in a desert, seat-
ed by the side of a stream, and who holds in his hands a small bell ,
as St. Antony is commonly painted. In the temple of St. Sophia, at
Constantinople, there was formerly on a white marble the image of
St. John the Baptist covered with the skin of a camel ; with this
only imperfection , that nature had given but one leg. At Ravenna,
in the church of St. Vital, a cordelier is seen on a dusky stone. They

20G NATURAL PRODUCTIONS

found in Italy a marble , in which a crucifix was so elaborately
finished , that there appeared the nails , the drops of blood , and the
wounds , as perfectly as the most excellent painter could have per-
formed. At Sneilberg , in Germany, they found in a mine a certain
rough metal , on which was seen the figure of a man , who carried a
child on his back. In Provence they found in a mine a quantity of
natural figures of birds , trees , rats , and serpents ; and in some pla-
ces of the western parts of Tartary , are seen on divers rocks the fi-
gures of camels , horses , and sheep. PanciroUus , in his Lost Anti-
quities , attests , that in a church at Rome , a marble perfectly repre-
sented a priest celebrating mass , and raising the host. Paul III.
conceiving that art had been used , scraped the marble to discover
whether any painting had been employed : but nothing of the kind
was discovered. " I have seen," writes a friend, "many of these
curiosities. They are always helped out by art. In my father's
house was a gray marble chimney-piece , which abounded in por-
traits , landscapes , etc. , the greatest part of which was made by
myself. " I have myself seen a large collection , many certainly
untouched by art. One stone appears like a perfect cameo of a Mi-
nerva's head 5 another shows an old man's head , beautiful as if the
hand of Raphael had designed it. Both these stones are transparent.
Some exhibit portraits.

There is preserved in the British Museum a black stone , on which
nature has sketched a resemblance of the portrait of Chaucer. Stones
of this kind , possessing a sufficient degree of resemblance , are
rare ; but art appears not to have been used. Even in plants , we find
this sort of resemblance. There is a species of the orchis, where
Nature has formed a bee , apparently feeding in the breast of the
flower, with so much exactness , that it is impossible at a very small
distance to distinguish the imposition. Hence the plant derives its
name , and is called the Bee-Flower. Langhorne elegantly notices
its appearance : —

" See on that flow'ret's velvet breast,
How close the busy vagrant lies !
His thin-vyrought plume , his dowuy breast ,
The ambrosial gold that swells his thighs."

*' Perhaps his fragrant load may bind

His limbs j — we'll set the captive free —
I sought the LIVING bee to find ,
And found the ricxcRK of a bee."

The late Mr. .Tackson of Exeter wrote to me on this subject :
" This orchis is common near our sea-coasts ^ but instead of being
exactly like a bee , it is not like it at all. It has a general resem-

RESEMBLING ARTIFICIAL COMPOSITIONS. 207

blance to difty, and by the help of imagination may be supposed to
be a fly pitched upon the flower. Tiie mandrake very frequently has a
forked root , which may be fancied to resemble thighs and legs. I
have seen it helped out with nails on the toes."

An ingenious botanist , after reading this article , was so kind as
to send me specimens of the fly orchis , op/irys muscifera , and of
the bee orchis , ophrys apifera. Their resemblance to these insects
when in full flower is the most perfect conceivable : they are distinct
l)lants. The poetical eye of Langhorne was equally correct and fan-
ciful ; and that too of Jackson, who differed so positively. Many con-
troversies have been carried on , from a want of a little more know-
ledge ; like that of the bee orchis and the fly orchis , both parties
prove to be right.

Another curious specimen of the playful operations of nature is the
mandrake-, a plant indeed , when il is bare of leaves , perfectly re-
sembling that of the human form. The ginseng tree is noticed for the
same appearance. This object the same poet has noticed : —

" Mark how that rooted mandrake wears
His homaa feet, his human hands;
Oft, as his shapely form he rears ,

Aghast the frighted ploughman stands."

He closes this beautiful fable with the following stanza not inap-
posite to the curious subject of this article :

" Helvetia's rocks, Sabrina's waves.
Still many a shining pebble bear :
Where nature's studious hand engraves
The PERFECT FORM , and leaves it there."

THE POETICAL GARLAND OF JULIA.

HuET has given a charming description of a present made by a
lover to his mistress ; a gift which romance has seldom equalled for
its gallantry, ingenuity, and novelty. It was called the Garland of
Julia. To understand the nature of this gift , it will be necessary to
give the history of the parlies.

The beautiful Julia d'Angennes was in the flower of her youth
and fame , when the celebrated Gustavus , king of Sweden , was
making war in Germany with the most splendid success. Julia express-
ed her warm admiration of this hero. She had his portrait placed
on her toilette , and took pleasure in declaring that she would have
no other lover than Gustavus. The Duke de Montausier was, howe-
ver, her avowed and ardent admirer. A short time after the death
of Gustavus , he sent her, as a new-year's gift , the poetical gar-
land, of winch the following is a description.

208 THE POETICAL GARLAND OF JULIA.

The most beautiful flowers were painted in miniature by an emi-'
nent artist , one Robert , on pieces of vellum , all of equal dimen-
sions. Under every flower a space was left open for a madrigal on
the subject of the flower there painted. The duke solicited the wits of
the time to assist in the composition of these little poems , reserving
a considerable number for the effusions of his own amorous muse.
Under every flower he had its madrigal written by N. du Jarry, ce-
lebrated for his beautiful caligraphy. A decorated frontispiece offer-
ed a splendid garland composed of all these twenty-nine flowers ^
and on turning the page a cupid is painted to the life. These were
magnificently bound, and enclosed in a bag of rich Spanish leather.
When Julia awoke on new-year's day, she found this lover's gift
lying on her toilette 5 it was one quite to her taste , and successful to
the donor's hopes.

Of this Poetical Garland , thus formed by the hands of Wit and
Love , Huet says, " As I had long heard of it, I frequently express-
ed a wish to see it : at length the duchess of Uz6z gratified me with
the sight. She locked me in her cabinet one afternoon with this gar-
land : she then went to the queen , and at the close of the evening
liberated me. I never passed a moi^e agreeable afternoon."

One of the prettiest inscriptions of these flowers is the following ,
composed for

THE VIOLET.

" Modeste en ma couleur, modeste en mon sejour,
Franche d'ambition, je me cache sous I'berbej
Mais si sur votre front je puis me voir un jour.
La plus humble des flcurs sera la plus superbe."

" Modest my colour, modest is my place ,
Pleased in the grass my lowly form to hide;
But mid your tresses might I wind "witJi grace.
The humblest flower would feel the loftiest pride."

The following is some additional information respecting " the
Poetical Garland of Julia."

At the sale of the library of the Duke de la Vallitre , in 1784,
among its numerous literary curiosities this garland appeared. It was
actually sold for the extravagant sum of 14,510 livres! though in
1770, at Gaignat's sale, it only cost 780 livres. It is described to be
" a manuscript on vellum, composed of twenty-nine flowers painted
by one Robert , under which arc inserted madrigals by various au-
thors." But the Abb6 Rive , the supcrintendant of the Valli6re li-
brary, published , in 1779 , an inflammatory notice of this garland ;
and as he and the duke had the art of api)rcciating . and it has been

THE POETICAL GARLAND OF JULIA. 909

said making spurious literary curiosities , this notice was no doubt
the occasion of the maniacal price.

In the great French Revolution, this literary curiosity found its
passage into this country. A bookseller offered it for sale at the enor-
mous price of 500/. sterling ! No curious collector has been disco-
vered to have purchased this unique ; which is most remarkable for
the extreme folly of the purchaser who gave the 13,510 livres for
poetry and painting not always exquisite. The history of the Gar-
land of Julia is a child's lesson for certain rash and inexperienced
collectors , w ho may here

'' Learn to do we'll by others' harm."

TRAGIC ACTORS.

MoNTFLEURY , a French player , was one of the greatest actors of
his time for characters highly tragic. He died of the violent efforts he
made in representing Orestes in the Andromache of Racine. The au-
thor of the " Pariiasse refonne'''' makes him thus express himself
in the shades. There is something extremely droll in his lamenta-
tions , with a severe raillery on the inconveniences to which tragic
actors are liable.

" Ah ! how sincerely do I wish that tragedies had never been in-
vented ! I might then have been yet in a state capable of appearing
on the stage ; and if I should not have attained the glory of sustain-
ing sublime characters , I should at least have trifled agreeably, and
have worked off my spleen in laughing ! I have wasted my lungs in
the violent emotions of jealousy, love, and ambition. A thousand
limes have I been obliged to force myself to represent more passions
than Le Rrun ever painted or conceived. I saw myself frequently
obhged to dart terrible glances \ to roll my eyes furiously in my
head , like a man insane ; to frighten others by extravagant gri-
maces ; to imprint on my countenance the redness of indignation
and hatred ; to make the paleness of fear and surprise succeed each
other by turns ; to express the transports of rage and despair ; to cry
out like a demoniac \ and consequently to strain all the parts of my
body to render my gestures titter to accompany these difl'erent im-
pressions. The man then w ho would know of what I died , let him
not ask if it were of the fever, the dropsy, or the gout •, but let him
know that it was oAthe Andromache !''

The Jesuit Rapin informs us , that when Mondori acted Herod
in the Mariamne of Tristan , the spectators quitted the theatre
mournful and thoughtful ; so tenderly were they penetrated with
the sorrow s of the unfortunate heroine. In this melancholy pleasure,

I. 14

210 TRAGIC ACTORS.

he says , we have a rude picture of the strong impressions which
were made by the Grecian tragedians. MoRdori indeed fell so power-
fully the character he assumed , that it cost him his life.

Some readers may recollect the death of liond , who felt so exqui-
sitely the character of Lusignan in Zara, which he personated when
an old man , that Zara , when she addressed him , found him dead
in his chair !

The assumption of a variety of characters , by a person of irri-
table and delicate nerves , has often a tragical effect on the mental
faculties. We might draw up a list of actors , who have fallen mar-
tyrs to their tragic characters. Several have died on the stage ,
and , like Palmer, usually in the midst of some agitated appeal to
the feelings.

Baron , who was the French Garrick , had a most elevated notion
of his profession : he used to say, that tragic actors should be nursed
on the lap of queens ! Nor was his vanity inferior to his enthusiasm
for his profession ; for, according to him , the world might see once
in a century a Ccesai\ but that it required a thousand years to pro-
duce a Baron ! A variety of anecdotes testify the admirable talents
he displayed. Whenever he meant to compliment the talents or merit
of distinguished characters , he always delivered in a pointed man-
ner the striking passages of the play, fixing his eye on them. An
observation of his respechng actors , is not less applicable to poets
and to painters. " Rules ," said this sublime actor, " may teach us
not to raise the arms above the head ^ but if passion carries them ,
it will be well done ; passion knows more than art."

Betterton, although his countenance was ruddy and sanguine,
when he performed Hamlet , tlirough tlie violent and sudden emo-
tion of amazement and horror at the presence of his father's spectre,
instantly turned as while as his neckcloth, while his whole body seem-
ed to be alTecled with a strong tremor : had his father's appari-
tion actually risen before him , he could not have been seized with
more real agonies. This struck the spectators so forcibly, that they
fell a shuddering in their veins, and participated in the astonishment
and the horror so apparent in the actor. Davies in his Dramatic
Miscellanies records this fact ; and in the llichardsoniana , we Und
that tlie lirst lime Booth allem{)ted the ghost when Betterton acted
Handel, that actor's look at him struck him with such horror that
he became disconcerted to such a degree , that he could not speak
his part. Here seems no want of evidence of Ihc force of the ideal
presence in this marvellous acting : these facts might deserve a phi-
losophical investigation .

Le Kain , the J'rench actor, who retired from the Parisian stage ,
like our Garrick , covered with glory and gold , was one day con-

TRAGIC ACTORS. 211

gratulalod by a company on the rclirement which he was preparing
to enjoy. "As to glory/' modestly replied this aelor, "1 do not
flatter myself to have acquired much. This kind of reward is always
disputed by many, and you yourselves would not allow it, were I
to assume it. As to the money, I have not so much reason to be
satisfied ; at the Italian theatre their share is far more considerable
than mine ; an actor there may get tw enty to twenty-five thousand
livrcs , and my share amounts at the most to ten or twelve thousand."
" How I the devil I ' exclaimed a rude chevalier of the order of St.
Louis, who was present, "How! the devil! a vile stroller is not
content with twelve thousand livres annually, and I , who am in the
king's service , who sleep upon a cannon and lavish my bloo(ft"i)r
my country, I must consider myself as fortunate in having obtained
a pension of one thousand livres." "And do you account as nothing ,
sir, the liberty of addressing me thus ! " replied Le Kain, w ith all the
sublimity and conciseness of ao irritated Orosmane.

The memoirs of Mademoiselle Clairon display her exalted feeling
of the character of a sublime actress ; she was of opinion , that in
common life the truly sublime actor should be a hero or heroine
off the stage. " If I am only a vulgar and ordinary woman during
twenty hours of the day, whatever effort I may make , I shall only
be an ordinary and vulgar woman in Agrippina or Semiramis , dur-
ing the remaining four. In society she was nick-named the Queen
of Carthage , from her admirable personification of Dido in a tragedy
of that name.

JOCULAR PREACHERS.

These preachers , w hose works are excessively rare , form a race
unknown to the general reader, I shall sketch the characters of
these pious buffoons , before I introduce them to his acquaintance.
They, as it has been said of Sterne , seemed to have wished , every
now and then , to have throw n their wigs into the faces of their
auditors.

These preachers flourished in the fourteenth , fifteenth , and six-
teenth centuries \ we are therefore to ascribe their extravagant
mixture of grave admonition with facetious illustration , comic
tales which have been occasionally adopted by the most licentious
w Titers , and minute and lively descriptions , to the great simpli-
city of the times , when the grossest indecency was never concealed
under a gentle periphrasis , but every thing was called by its name.
All this was enforced by the most daring personalities, and sea-
soned by those temporary allusions which neither spared, nor feared
even the throne. These ancient sermons therefore are singularly

212 JOCULAR PREACHERS.

precious , to tlioso whose inquisitive pleasures are gratified by tra-
cing the manners of former ages. When Henry Stephens , in his
apology for Herodotus , describes the irregularities of the age , and
the niinutise of national manners , he effects this chiefly by extracts
from these sermons. Their wit is not always the brightest, nor their
satire the most poignant ; but there is always that prevailing na'i-
i'ete of the age running through their rude eloquence, which in-
terests the reflecting mind. In a word, these sermons were addressed
to the multitude ^ and therefore they show good sense and absur-
dity ; fancy and puerility 5 satire and insipidity ^ extravagance and
truth.

©liver Maillard , a famous cordeUer, died in 1502. This preacher
having pointed some keen traits in his sermons at Louis XL , the
irritated monarch had our cordelier informed that he would throw
him into the river. He replied undaunted , and not forgetting his
satire : " The king may do as he chooses ; but tell him that I shall
sooner get to paradise by water, than he will arrive by all his post
horses." He alluded to travelling by post, which this monarch had
lately introduced into France. This bold answer, it is said, intimi-
dated Louis ; it is certain that Maillard continued as courageous and
satirical as ever in his pulpit.

The following extracts are descriptive of the manners of the
limes.

In attacking rapine and robbery, under the first head he describes
a kind of usury, which was practised in the days of Ben Jonson ,
and I am told in the present , as well as in the times of Maillard.
" This ," says he, " is called a palliated usury. It is thus. When a
person is in want of money, he goes to a treasurer (a kind of banker
or merchant), on whom he has an order for 1000 crowns 5 the
treasurer tells him that he will pay him in a fortnight's time , when
he is to receive the money. The poor man cannot wait. Our good
treasurer tells him , I will give you half in money and half in goods.
So he passes his goods that are worth 100 crowns for 200." He then
touches on the bribes which these treasurers and clerks in office
took , excusing themselves by alleging the little pay they otherwise
received. "All these practices be sent to the devils I " cries Maillard ,
in thus addressing himself to the ladies : "it is for ro« all this dam-
nation ensues. Yes ! yes ! you must have rich satins , and girdles of
gold out of this accursed money. When any one has any thing to
receive from the husband , he must first make a present to the wife
of some fine gown , or girdle , or ring. If you ladies and gentlemen
who ar(! battening on your pleasures, and wear scarlet clothes, I
believe if you were closely put in a good press , we should see the
blood of the poor gush out , with which your scarlet is dyed."

JOCULAR PREACHERS. 213

Maillard notices the following curious particulars of the mode of
cheating in trade in his times.

He is violent against the apothecaries for their cheats. They mix
ginger with cirniamon , wliich they sell for real spices : they put
their bags of ginger, pepper, saffron , cinnamon , and other drugs
in damp cellars , that they may weigh heavier •, th(!y mix oil with
saffron , to give it a colour, and to make it weightier. He does not
forget those tradesmen who put water in their wool , and moisten
their cloth that it may stretch ; tavern-keepers , w ho sophisticate
and mingle w ines 5 the butchers who blow up their meal , and who
mix hog's lard with the fat of their meat. He terribly declaims against
those who buy with a great allowance of measure and w eight , and
then sell with a small measure and w eight ; and curses those who ,
when they weigh , press the scales down with their finger. But it is
time to conclude with Master Oliver I His catalogue is , however,
by no means exhausted ; and it may not be amiss to observe , that
the present age has retained every one of the sins.

The following extracts are from Menot's sermons , which are
written , like Maillard's , in a barbarous Latin mixed w ith old
French.

Michael Menot died in 1518. I think he has more wit than Mail-
lard , and occasionally displays a brilliant imagination ; with the
same singular mixture of grave declamation and farcical absurdities.
He is called in the title-page the golden-tongued. It runs thus, Pre-
dicatoris qui lingua aurea , sua tempestate nuncupatus est ,
Sermones quadragesimales , ah ipso olini Turonis declamati.
Paris, 1525, 8vo.

When he compares the church with a vine, he says, "There
were once some Britons and Englishmen who would have carried
away all France into their country, because they found our wine
better than their beer ; but as they well knew that they could not
always remain in France, nor carry away France into their country,
they would at least carry with them several stocks of vines; they
planted some in England; but these stocks soon degenerated, because
the soil was not adapted to them." Notwithstanding what Menot said
in 1500, and that we have fried so often, we have often flattered
ourselves that if we plant vineyards we may have English wine.

The following beautiful figure describes those who live neglectful
of their aged parents, who had cherished them into prosperity.
" See the trees flourish and recover their leaves ; it is their root
that has produced all ; but when the branches are loaded with flow-
ers and with fruits , they yield nothing to the root. This is an image
of those children who prefer their own amusements , and to game

214 JOCULAR PREACHERS.

away their fortunes , than to give to their old parents the cares which
they want."

He acquaints us with the following circumstances of the immo-
rality of that age : " Who has not got a mistress besides his wife?
The poor wife eats the fruits of hillerness , and even makes the bed
for the mistress." Oaths were not unfashionable in his day. " Since
the world has been world, this crime was never greater. There were
once pillories for these swearers ^ but now this crime is so common,
that the child of five years can swear •, and even the old dotard of
eighty, who has only two teeth remaining , can fling out an oath ! "

On the power of the fair sex of his day, he observes, " A father
says , my son studies 5 he must have a bishoprick , or an abbey of
500 livres. Then he will have dogs , horses , and mistresses , like
others. Another says , I will have my son placed at court, and have
many honourable dignities. To succeed well , both employ the me-
diation of women ; unhappily the church and the law are entirely
at their disposal. We have artful Dalilahs who shear us close. For
twelve crowns and an ell of velvet given to a woman , you gain the
worst lawsuit, and the best living."

In his last sermon, Menot recapitulates the various topics he had
touched on during Lent. This extract presents a curious picture ,
and a just notion of the versatile talents of these preachers.

" I have told ecclesiastics how they should conduct themselves 5
not that they are ignorant of their duties \ but I must ever repeat
to girls , not to suffer themselves to be duped by them. I have told
these ecclesiastics that they should imitate the lark \ if she has a
grain she does not remain idle , but feels her pleasure in singing ,
and in singing always is ascending towards heaven. So they should
not amass •, but elevate the hearts of all to God ^ and not do as the
frogs who are crying out day and night , and think they have a fine
throat , but always remain fixed in the mud.

" I have told the men of the law that they should have the
quaUlies of the eagle. The first is, that this bird when it Hies fixes
its eye on the sun; so all judges, counsellors, and attorneys, in
judging , writing , and signing , should always have God before
their eyes. And secondly, this bird is never greedy •, it willingly
shares its prey with others •, so all lawyers , who arc rich in crowns
after having had their bills paid , should distribute some to the poor,
particularly when th(^y \\x(\ conscious that their money arises from
llieir [)rey.

" 1 have spoken of the; nuiiriage slate , but all that \ have said
has been disregarded. See those wretches who break the hymeneal
chains , and abandon their wives ! Ihey pass Ihcir holidays out of
Iheir parishes , because if they remained at home Ihey nuist have

JOCULAR PREACHERS. 215

joined their wives at churdi •, they like their prostitutes better 5 and
it will be so every day in the year I I would as well dine with a
Jew or a heretic, as with them. What an infected place is this!
Mistress Lubricity has taken possession of the whole city ; look in
every corner, and you'll be convinced.

" For you married women! If you have heard the nightingale's
song , you must know that she sings during three months , and that
she is silent when she has young ones. So there is a time in which
you may sing and take your pleasures in the marriage state , and
another to watch your children. Don't damn yourselves for them;
and remember it would be better to see them drowned than
damned.

'•'• As to widows , I observe , that the turtle withdraws and sighs
in tlie woods , whenever she has lost her companion •, so must they
retire into the wood of the cross , and having lost their temporal
husband , take no other but Jesus Christ.

" And, to close all, I have told girls that (hey must fly from the
company of men , and not permit them to embrace , nor even touch
them. Look on the rose ; it has a delightful odour \ it embalms the
place in which it is placed •, but if you grasp it underneath , it will
prick you till the blood issues . The beauty of the rose is the beauty
of the girl. The beauty and perfume of the first invite to smell and to
handle it , but when it is touched underneath it pricks sharply; the
beauty of a girl likewise invites the hand ; but you , my young la-
dies , you must never suffer this , for I tell you that every man who
does this designs to make you harlots."

These ample extracts may convey the same pleasure to the reader
which I have received by collecting them from their scarce origi-
nals, little known even to the curious. Menot, it cannot be denied,
displays a poetic imagination , and a fertility of conception which
distinguishes him among his rivals. The same taste and popular
manner came into our country, and were suited to the simpHcity of
the age. In 1527, our Bishop Latimer preached a sermon, in which
he expresses himself thus : — " Now, ye have heard what is meant
by {\n?> first card , and how ye ought to play. I purpose again to
deal unto you another card oj the same suit; for they be so nigh
adinily , that one cannot be well played without the ollior." 1! is
curious to observe about a century afterwards , as Fuller informs
us , that when a country clergyman imitated these famihar allusions,
the taste of the congregation had so changed that he was interrupted
by peals of laughter I

Even in more modern times have IMenot and Maillard found
an imitator in little Father Andre , as well as others. His character
has been variously drawn. He is by some represented as a kind of

216 JOCULAR PREACHERS.

buffoon in the pulpit •, but others more judiciously observe , that
he only indulged his natural genius] and uttered humorous and
lively things, as the good father observes himself, to keep the
attention of his audience awake. He was not always laughing. "He
told many a bold truth," says the author of Guerre des Auteurs
miciens et modernes , " that sent bishops to their dioceses, and
made many a coquette blush. He possessed the art of biting when
he smiled; and more ably combated vice by his ingenious satire
than by those vague apostrophes which no one takes to himself.
While others were straining their minds to catch at sublime thoughts
which no one understood, he lowered his talents to the most humble
situations, and to the minutest things. From them he drew his
examples and his comparisons •, and the one and the other never
failed of success." Marville says, that " His expressions were full
of shrewd simplicity. He made very free use of the most popular
proverbs. His comparisons and figures were always borrowed from
the most familiar and lowest things." To ridicule eflectually the
reigning vices , he would prefer quirks or puns to subUme thoughts ;
and he was little solicitous of his choice of expression , so the things
came home. Gozzi, in Raly, had the same power in drawing unex-
pected inferences from vulgar and familiar occurrences. H was by
this art Whitfield obtained so many followers. In Piozzi's British
Synonymes , vol. ii. p. 205, we have an instance of Gozzi's man-
ner. In the time of Charles II. it became fashionable to introduce
humour into sermons. Sterne seems to have revived it in his ;
South' s sparkle perpetually with wit and pun.

Far different, however, are the characters of the sublime preach-
ers , of whom the French have preserved the following descrip-
tions.

We have not any more Bourdaloue , La Rue , and Massillon ;
but the idea which still exists of their manner of addressing their
auditors may serve instead of lessons. Each had his own peculiar
mode , always adapted to place , time , circumstance ; to their audi-
tors , their style , and their subject.

Bourdaloue, with a collected air, had little action-, with eyes ge-
nerally half closed , he penetrated the hearts of the people by the
sound of a voice uniform and solemn. The tone with which a sacred
orator pronounced the words , Tu es ille vir! "Thou art the man !"
in suddenly addressing them to one of the kings of France, struck
more forcibly than their application. Madame de St'vigne describes
our preacher, by saying, " Father Bourdaloue tbunders at Notre-
IJame."

La Rue appeared with (he air of a prophet. His manner was
irresistible , full of lire , intelligence , and force. He had strokes

JOCULAR PREACHERS. 217

perfectly original. Several old men , his con temporaries , still shud-
dered at the recollection of the expression which he employed in
an apostrophe to the God of vengeance, Eva^inare gladiiun
tuum !

The person of Massillon affected his admirers, lie was seen in
the pulpit with that air of simplicity, that modest demeanour, those
eyes humbly declining , those unstudied gestures, that passionate
tone, that mild countenance of a man penetrated with his subject ,
conveying to the mind the most luminous , ideas , and to the heart
the most tender emotions. Baron the tragedian , coming out from
one of his sermons , truth forced from his lips a confession humi-
liating to his profession : " My friend," said he to one of his com-
panions , " this is an orator! and we are only actors.'"

MASTERLY IMITATORS.

There have been found occasionally some artists who could so
perfectly imitate the spirit, the taste, the character, and the pecu-
liarities of great masters , that they have not unfrequenlly deceived
the most skilful connoisseurs. Michael Angelo sculptured a sleeping
Cupid, of which having broken off an arm , he buried the statue in
a place where he knew it would soon be found. The critics were
never tired of admiring it , as one of the most precious relics of
antiquity. It was sold to the Cardinal of St. George, to whom Mi-
chael Angelo discovered the whole mystery, by joining to the Cupid
the arm which he had reserved.

An anecdote of Peter Mignard is more singular. This great artist
painted a IMagdalen on a canvass fabricated at Rome. A broker, in
concert w ith Mignard , went to the Chevalier de Clairville , and told
him as a secret that he was to receive from Italy a Magdalen of
Guido, and his masterpiece. The chevalier caught the bait, begged
the preference , and purchased the picture at a very high price.

He was informed that he had been imposed upon , and that the
Magdalen was painted by Mignard. Mignard himself caused the
alarm lo be given , but the amateur would not believe it ^ all the
connoisseurs agreed it was a Guido , and the famous Le Brun corro-
borated this opinion.

The chevalier came to Mignard : — '"Some persons assure me
that my Magdalen is your work!" — " Mine! they do me great ho-
nour. I am sure that Le Brun is not of this opinion." — "Le Brun
swears it can be no other than a Guido. You shall dine w ith me ,
and meet several of the first connoisseurs."

On the day of meeting, the picture was again more closely inspect-
ed. Mignard hinted his doubts whether the piece was the work of

218 MASTERLY IMITATORS

thai great master; he insinuated that it was possible to be deceived;
and added, that if it was Guido's, he did not think it in his best
manner. " It is a Guido , sir, and in his very best manner," repHed
Le Brun , with warmth ; and all the critics were unanimous. Mig-
nard then spoke in a firm tone of voice : " And I , gentlemen, will
wager three hundred louis that it is not a Guido." The dispute now
became violent : Le Brun was desirous of accepting the wager. In
a word , the affair became such that it could add nothing more to
the glory of Mignard. "No, sir," replied the latter, " I am too
honest to bet when I am certain to win. Monsieur le Chevalier,
this piece cost you 2000 crowns : the money must be returned, —
the painting ismme." Le Brun would notbeheve it. " The proof,"
Mignard continued, "is easy. On this canvass, which is a Roman
one, was the portrait of a cardinal; I will show you his cap." —
The chevalier did not know which of the rival artists to credit. The
proposition alarmed him. " He who painted the picture shall repair
it," said Mignard. He took a pencil dipped in oil, and rubbing the
hair of the Magdalen , discovered the cap of the cardinal. The honour
of the ingenious painter could no longer be disputed ; Le Brun ,
vexed, sarcastically exclaimed , "Always paint Guido, but never
]>Iignard."

There is a collection of engravings by that ingenious artist Ber-
nard Picart, which has been published under the title of The
Innocent Impostors. Picart had long been vexed at the taste of his
day, which ran wholly in favour of antiquity, and no one would
look at, much less admire, a modern master. He pubUshed a
pretended collection , or a set of prints , from the designs of the
great painters; in which he imitated the etchings and engravings of
the various masters, and much were these prints admired as the
works of Guido, Rembrandt, and others. Having had his joke, they
were published under the title of hnposleurs innocens. Tlie con-
noisseurs, however, are strangely divided in their opinion of the
merit of this collection. Gilpin classes these " Innocent Impostors"
among the most entertaining of his works, and is delighted by the
happiness with which he has outdone in their own excellences the
artists whom he copied; but Strutt, too grave to admit of jokes
that twitch the connoisseurs , declares that they could never have
deceived an experientted judge , and reprobates such kinds of
ingenuity, played olT at the cost of the venerable brotherhood of
the cognoscenti!

The same thing was, however, done by (ioltzius, who being
disgusted at the preference given to the works of Albert Durer,
Lucas of Leyden , and others of that school, and having attempted
to introduce a beUerlasle, which was not inunedialelv relished, ho

MASTERLY IINIITATORS. 210

published what were afterwards called his master-pieces. These
are six prints in the style of these masters , merely to prove that
Goltzius could imitate their works, if he thought proper. One of
these, the Circumcision, he had printed on soiled paper; and to
give it the brown tint of antiquity had carefully smoked it, by which
means it was sold as a curious performance, and deceived some of
the most capital connoisseurs of the day, one of whom boutiht it as
one of the fmesl engravings of Albert Durer : even Strult acknow-
ledges the merit of Gollzius's master-pieces!

To these instances of artists I will add others of celebrated authors.
Muretus rendered Joseph Scaliger, a great stickler for the ancients,
highly ridiculous by an artifice which he pmctised. He sent some
verses which he pretended were copied from an old manuscript.
The verses were excellent, and Scaliger was credulous. After hav-
ing read them, he exclaimed they were admirable, and afTirmed
that they were written by an old comic poet, Trabeus. He quoted
them, in his commentary on Yarro De Re rusticd, as one of the
most precious fragments of antiquity. It was then, when he had
fixed his foot firmly in the trap , that IMuretus informed the world
of the little dependence to be placed on the critical sagacity of one so
prejudiced in favour of the ancients , and who considered his judg-
ment as infaUible.

The Abbe Regnier Desmarais, having written an ode or, as the
ItaUans call it , canzone , sent it to the Abbe Strozzi at Florence , w ho
used it to impose on three or four academicians of Delia Crusca. He
gave out that Leo Allatius , librarian of the Vatican , in examining
carefully the MSS. of Petrarch preserved there, had found two pages
slightly glued, which having separated , he had discovered this ode.
The fact was not at first easily credited; but afterwards thesimilarity
of style and manner rendered it highly probable. When Strozzi
undeceived the public , it procured the Abbe Regnier a place in the
academy, as an honourable testimony of his ingenuity.

P6re Commire , when Louis XIV. resolved on the conquest of
Holland , composed a Latin fable, entitled "The Sun and the Frogs,"
in which he assumed with such felicity the style and character of
Phffidrus , that the learned Wolfius was deceived , and innocently
inserted it in his edition of that fabulist.

Faminius Strada , would have deceived most of the critics of his
age , if he had given as the remains of antiquity the ditTerent pieces
of history and poetry which he composed on the model of tho
ancients , in his Prolusiones academicce. To preserve probability
he might have given out that he had drawn them from some old
and neglected library; he had tiien only to have added a good
commentary, tending to display the conformity of the style and

J20 MASTERLY IMITATORS.

manner of these fragments with the works of those authors to whom
he ascribed them.

Sigonius was a great master of the style of Cicero, and ventured
to pubHsh a treatise De Consolatiojie , as a composition of Cicero
recently discovered ; many were deceived by the counterfeit , which
was performed with great dexterity , and was long received as genuine;
but he could not deceive Lipsius , who , after reading only ten lines,
threw it away, exclaiming, " J^ah! non est Ciceronis .'" The late
Mr. Burke succeeded more skilfully in his " Vindication of Natural
Society," which for a long time passed as the composition of Lord
Bolingbroke ; so perfect is this ingenious imposture of the spirit ,
manner, and course of thinking of the noble author. I believe it was
written for a wager, and fairly won.

EDWARD THE FOURTH.

Our Edward the Fourth was a gay and voluptuous prince ^ and
probably owed his crown to his handsomeness , his enormous debts ,
and passion for the fair sex. He had many Jane Shores. Honest Philip
de Comines, his contemporary, says, " That what greatly contri-
buted to his entering London as soon as he appeared at its 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 over to him their husbands , who , I suppose , for the
tranquillity of their lives , were glad to depose or to raise monarchs.
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.

" He had been during the last twelve years more accustomed to
his ease and pleasure 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 had carried with him great pavilions for les
dames ^ and at the same time gave splendid entertainments; so that
it is not suprising 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 n»y hand , the reader will not ,
perhaps, be displeased, if he attends to a little more of his nawele,
which will appear in th(^ form of a nvwersazio/ie of the times. He
relates what passed between Edward and the king of France.

EDWARD THE FOURTH. 521

" When the ceremony of Ihe oalh was concluded, our king , who
was desirous of being friendly, began to say to the king of England,
in a laugliing way, lliat 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 si/i 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 imfort hon compa^non. 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 honfrhre et amy ?''

I have called Philip de Comines honest. The old writers , from
the simplicity of their style, usually receive this honourable epithet;
but sometimes they deserve it as little as most modern memoir-
writers. No enemy is indeed so terrible as a man of genius. Comines's
violent enmity to the Duke of Burgundy , which appears in these
memoirs, has been traced by the minute researchers of anecdotes;
and the cause is not honourable to the memoir-writer, whose resent-
ment was implacable. De Comines was born a subject of the Duke
of Burgundy, and for seven years had been a favourite; but one day
returning from hunting with the Duke, then Count de Charolois, in
familiar jocularity he sat himself down before the prince , ordering
the prince to pull off his boots. The count laughed , and did this ;
but in return for Comines's princely amusement, dashed the boot in
his face, and gave Comines a bloody nose. From that time he was
mortified in the court of Burgundy by the nickname of the hooted
head. Comines long felt a rankling wound in his mind , and after
this domestic quarrel, for it was nothing more, he went over to the
king of France, and wrote off his bile against the Duke of Burgundy
in these "Memoirs," which give posterity a caricature likeness of
that prince, whom he is ever censuring for presumption, obstinacy,
pride, and cruelty. This Duke of Burgundy, however, it is said,
with many virtues , had but one great vice, the vice of sovereigns,
that of ambition I

The impertinence of Comines had not been chastised with great
severity ; but the nickname was never forgiven : unfortunately for
the duke , Comines was a man of genius. When we are versed in
the history of the times, we often discover that memoir-writers have
some secret poison in their hearts. Many, like Comines, have had

322 EDWARD THE FOURTH.

Ihe boot dashed on their nose. Personal rancour wonderfully enlivens
the style of Lord Orford and Cardinal de Relz. Memoirs are often
dictated by its fiercest spirit ; and then histories are composed from
memoirs. Where is truth? Not always in histories and memoirs !

ELIZABETH.

This great queen passionately admired handsome persons , and
he was already far advanced in her favour who approached her with
beauty and grace. She had so unconquerable an aversion for 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 hunchbacked, etc.-, in a word, all those whose appearance
might shock her fastidious sensations.

" There is this singular and admirable in the conduct of Eliza-
beth that she made her pleasures subservient to her policy, 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 its chains and
its slavery are liked!"

The origin of Raleigh's advancement in the queen's graces was
by an act of gallantry. Raleigh spoiled a new plush cloak, while the
queen, stepping cautiously on this prodigal's footcloth, shot forth a
smile , in which he read promotion. Captain Raleigh soon became
Sir Walter, and rapidly advanced in the queen's lavour.

Hume lias furnished us with ample proofs of the passion which
her courtiers feigned for her, and which, it appears , never went
further than boisterous or romantic gallantry. The secrecy of her
amours is not so wonderful as it seems, if there were natural impe-
diments to any but exterior gallantries , which seems not doubtful.
Hume lias preserved in his notes a letter written by Raleigh. It is a
perfect amorous composition. After having exerted his poetic talents
to exalt her charms and his affection, he concludes, by comparing
her majesty, who was then sixty, to Venus and Diana. Sir Walter
was not h(T only courtier who wrote in this style. Even in her old
age slie alTected a strange fondness for music and dancing , with a
kind of childish simplicity ^ her court seemed a court of love, and
she the sovereign. A curious anecdote in a letter of the times has

ELIZABETH Ud

reached us. Secretary Cecil , Ihe youngest son of Lord Burleigh ,
seems to liave perfeclly entered into lier character. Lady Derby
wore about tier neclc and in her bosom a portrait; the queen,
espying it, inquired about it, but her iadj ship was anxious to con-
ceal it. The queen insisted on having it^ and discovering it to be the
portrait of young Cecil, she snatched it away, and tying it upon her
shoe, walked along with it; afterwards she pinned it on her elbow,
and wore it some time there. Secretary Cecil hearing of this com-
posed some verses, and got them set to music; this music the queen
insisted on hearing. In his verses Cecil sang that he repined not ,
though her majesty was pleased to grace others; he contented
himself with the favour she had given him, by wearing his portrait
on her feet and on her elbow ! The writer of the letter adds, '- All
these things are very secret.'' In this manner she contrived to lay
the fastest hold on her able servants, and her servants on her.

Those who are intimately acquainted with the private anecdotes
of those times know w hat encouragement this royal coquette gave to
most who were near her person. Dodd, in his Church History, says,
that trie Earls of Arran and Arundel , and Sir William Pickering ,
" were not out of hopes of gaining Queen Ehzabelh's affections in a
matrimonial way."

She encouraged every person of eminence : she even w ent so far,
on the anniversary of her coronation, as publicly to take a ring from
her linger , and put it on the Duke of Alen^ons liand. She also
ranked amongst her suitors Henry the Third of France, and Henry
the Great.

She never forgave Buzenval for ridiculing her bad pronunciation
of the French language; and when Henry lY. sent him over on an
embassy, she would not receive him. So nice was the irritable pride
of this great queen, that she made her private injuries matters of
state.

*"• This queen," w rites Du Mauricr, in his 3Iemoires pour ser-
wii- a VHistoire de la Hollande , " who displayed so many heroic
accomplishments, had this foible, of wishing to be thought beautiful
by all the world. I heard from my father, that at every audience he
had w ilh her majesty, she pulled off her gloves more than a hundred
limes to display her hands, which indeed were very beautiful and
very white. '

A not less curious anecdote relates to the alYair of the Duke of
Anjou and our Elizabeth ; it is one more proof of her partiality for
handsome men. The writer was Lewis Guyon, a contemporary.

" Francis Duke of Anjou, being desirous of marrying a crowned
head, caused proposals of marriage to be made to Elizabeth queen
of England. Letters passed betw ixt them , and their portraits were

224 ELIZABETH.

exchanged. At length her majesty informed him , that she would
never contract a marriage with any one who sought her , if she did
not first see his persoTi. If he would not come, nothing more should
be said on the subject. This prince over-pressed by his young friends
(who were as little able of judging as himself), paid no attention to
the counsels of men of maturer judgment. He passed over to England
without a splendid train. The said lady contemplated his person :
she fouud him ugly, disfigured by deep scars of the small-pox, and
that he also had an ill-shaped nose, with swellings in the neck !
All these were so many reasons with her , that he could never be
admitted into her good graces."

Puttenham , in his very rare book of the " Art of Poesie, " p. 248,
notices the grace and majesty of Elizabeth's demeanour, " her
stately manner of walk , with a certaine granditie rather than gra-
vietie , marching with leysure , which our sovereign ladye and mis-
tress is accustomed to doe generally, unless it be when she walketh
apace for her pleasure , or to catch her a heate in the cold
mornings. "

By the following extract from a letter from one of her gentlemen,
we discover that her usual habits , though studious , were not of
the gentlest kind , and that the service she exacted from her attend-
ants was not borne without concealed murmurs. The writer groans
in secrecy to his friend. Sir John Stanhope writes to Sir Robert
Cecil in 1598 : " I was all the afternowne with her majestie, at my
booke; and then thinking to rest me,- went in agayne with your
letter. She was pleased with the Filosofer's stone , and hath ben
all this daye reasonably qityett. Mr. Grevell is absent, and I
am tyed so as I cannot styrr, but shall be at the wourse for yt ,
these two dayes ! "

Puttenham , p. 249 , has also recorded an honourable anecdote of
Elizabeth , and characteristic of that high majesty which was in her
thoughts , as well as in her actions. When she came to the crown,
a knight of the realm , who had insolently behaved to her when
Lady Elizabeth , fell upon his knees and besought her pardon ,
expecting to be sent to the Tower ^ she replied mildly : " Do you
not know that we are descended of the lion, whose nature is not
to harme or prey upon the mouse , or any other such small
vermin ? "

Queen Elizabeth was taught to write by the celebrated Roger
Ascham. Her writing is extremely beautiful and correct , as may
be seen by examining a little manuscript book of prayers, preserved
in the British Museum. 1 have seen her first writing-book preserved
at Oxford in the Bodleian Library : the gradual improvement of
her majesty's hand-writing is very honourable to her diligence :, but

ELIZABETH. 225

llie most curious Ihing is the paper on which she tried her pens ;
Ihis she usually did by writing the name of her beloved brolhe;-
Edward ; a proof of (he oarly and ardent allachment she formed lo
that amiable prince.

The education of Elizabeth had been severely classical, she thought
and she wrote in all the spirit of the characters of antiquity ; and her
speeches and her letters are studded w ith apophthegms, and a terse-
ness of ideas and language, that give an exalted idea of her mind.
In her evasive answers to the commons , in reply to their petitions
to her majesty to marry, she has employed an energetic word.
-'• Were I to tell you that I do not mean to marry, I might say less
than I did intend ; and were I to tell you that I do mean to marry,
I might say more than it is proper for you to know ^ therefore I
give you an answer y answerless I "

THE CHINESE LANGUAGE.

The Chinese language is like no other on the globe ; it is said to
contain not more than about 330 words , but it is by no means mo-
notonous , for it has four accents ^ the even , the raised , the lessened,
tmd the returning , which multiply every w ord into four ; as difTi-
cult , says Mr. Astle , for an European to understand , as it is for a
Chinese to comprehend the six pronunciations of the French e. In
fact they can so diversify their monosyllabic w ords by the different
tones which they give them , that the same character differently
accented signifies sometimes ten or more different things.

P. Bourgeois , one of the missionaries , attempted , after (en
months' residence at Pekin , to preach in the Chinese language.
These are the words of the good father : " God knows how^ much
this first Chinese sermon cost me I I can assure you this language
resembles no other. The same w ord has never but one termination ;
and then adieu to all that in our declensions distinguishes the
gender, and the number of things we would speak : adieu, in the
verbs , to all which might explain the active person , how and in
what time it acts , if it acts alone or w ilh others : in a word , with
the Chinese , the same word is substantive , adjective , verb , sin-
gular, plural, masculine, feminine, etc. It is the person who hears
who must arrange the circumstances , and guess them. Add to all
this , that all the w ords of this language are reduced to three hundred
and a few more ; that they are pronounced in so many different
ways , that they signify eighty thousand different things, which are
expressed by as many different characters. This is not all : the ar-
rangement of all these monosyllables appears to be under no gene-
ral rule 5 so that to know the language after having learnt the

1. IS

220 THE CHINESE LANGUAGE,

words , we must learn every particular phrase : the least inversion
would make you unintelligible to three parts of the Chinese.

" I will give you an example of their words. They told me cfiou
signifies a book : so that I thought whenever the word choa was
pronounced , a book was the subject. Not at all ! Choa, the next
time I heard it , I found signified a tree. Now I was to recollect ,
chou was a book or a tree. V>\\\, this amounted to nothing ; chou, I
found , expressed also great Jienls ,• choii is to relate ; chou is the
Aurora; chou means to be accustomed; chou expresses the loss
of a wager, etc. I should not finish , were I to attempt to give you
all its significations.

" Notwithstanding these singular difficulties , could one but find
a help in the perusal of their books , I should not complain. But
this is impossible I Their language is quite different from that of
simple conversation. What will ever be an insurmountable difficulty
to every European is the pronunciation ; every word may be pro-
nounced in five different tones , yet every tone is not so distinct
that an unpractised ear can easily distinguish it. These monosyl-
lables fly with amazing rapidity ; then they are continually disguised
by ehsions , which sometimes hardly leave any thing of two mono-
syllables. From an aspirated tone you must pass immediately to an
even one ^ from a whistling note to an inward one : sometimes your
voice must proceed from the palate •, sometimes it must be guttural ,
and almost always nasal. I recited my sermon at least fifty times to
my servant before 1 spoke it in public ^ and yet I am told , though
he continually corrected me , that of the ten parts of the sermon (as
the Chinese express themselves), they hardly understood three.
Fortunately the Chinese are wonderfully patient 5 and they are
astonished that any ignorant stranger should be able to learn two
words of their language. "

It has been said that "Satires are often composed in China, which^
if you attend to the characters , their import is pure and sublime ;
but if you regard the tone only, they contain a meaning ludicrous or
obscene. In the Chinese one word sometimes corresponds to three
or four thousand characters ; a property quite opposite to that of our
language, in which myriads of different ^vo/^c/^ are expressed by
the same letters.'^

MEDICAL MUSIC.

In the Philosophical Magazine for May, 1806 , we find that " se-
veral of the medical literati on the continent are at present engaged
in making inquiries and experiments u[)on the influence of music
in the cure of diseases.'" The learned Dusaux is said to lead the
band of (his new tribe of amateurs and cognoscenti.

MEDICAL MUSIC. 227

The subject excited my curiosity, thougli I since have found that
it is no new discovery.

There is a curious article in Dr. Burney's History of Music, "On
the medicinal Powers allril)utcd to Music by the Ancients," which
he derived from the learned labours of a modern physician, M. Bu-
rette , who doubtless could play a tune to , as well as prescribe
one to, his patient. He conceives that music can relieve the pains
of the sciatica 5 and that independent of the greater or less skill of
the musician , by flattering the ear, and diverting the attention, and
occasioning certain vibrations of the nerves , it can remove those
obstructions which occasion this disorder. M. Burette, and many
modern physicians and philosophers , have believed that music has
the power of affecting the mind, and the whole nervous system, so
as to give a temporary relief in certain diseases , and even a radical
cure. De Mairan , Bianchini , and other respectable names , have
pursued the same career. But the ancients record miracles !

The Rev. Dr. Mitchell of Brighthelmstone wrote a dissertation,
' ' De Ai%e Medendi apiid Priscos , Musices ope atque Carmi-
num ,"' printed for J. Nichols , 1783. He writes under the assumed
name of Michael Gaspar ; but whether this learned dissertator be
grave or jocular, more than one critic has not been able to resolve
me^ I suspect it to be a satire on the parade of Germanic erudition,
by which they often prove a point by the weakest analogies and the
most fanciful conceits.

Amongst half-civilised nations , diseases have been generally at-
tributed to the influence of evil spirits. The depression of mind which
is generally attendant on sickness , and the delirium, accompanying
certain stages of disease , seem to have been considered as especially
denoting the immediate influence of a demon. The effect of music
in raising the energies of the mind, or what we commonly call ani-
mal spirits , was obvious to early observation. Its power of attracting
strong attention may in some cases have appeared to affect even
those who laboured under a considerable degree of mental disorder.
The accompanying depression of mind was considered as a part of
the disease , perhaps rightly enough, and music was prescribed as a
remedy to remove the symptom , when experience had not ascer-
tained the probable cause. Homer, whose heroes exhibit high pas-
sions , but not refined manners , represents the Grecian army as
employing music to stay the raging of the plague. The Jewish na-
tion , in the time of King David , appear not to have been much
further advanced in civilisation ; accordingly we find David employed
in his youth to remove the mental derangement of Saul by his harp.
The method of cure was suggested as a common one in those days ,
by Saul's servants ; and the success is not mentioned as a miracle.

228 MEDICAL MUSIC.

Pindar, with poetic licence, speaks of jl^sculapius healing acute
disorders with soothing songs; but yEsculapius, whether man or deity,
or between both , is a physician of the days of barbarism and fable.
Pliny scouts the idea that music should affect real bodily injury, but
quotes Homer on the subject ^ mentions Theophrastus as suggesting
a tune for the cure of the hip gout , and Cato as entertaining a fancy
that it had a good effect when limbs were out of joint , and hkewiso
that Varro thought it good for the gout. Aulus GcUius cites a work
of Theophrastus , which recommends music as a specific for the bite
of a viper, Boyle and Shakspcarc mention the effects of music super
vesicam. Kircher's " Musurgia, and Swinburne's Travels, relate the
effects of music on those who are bitten by the tarantula. Sir W.
Temple seems to have given credit to the stories of the power of
music over diseases.

The ancients , Indeed, record miracles in the tales they relate of
the medicinal powers of music. A fever is removed by a song , and
deafness is cured by a trumpet , and the pestilence is chased away
by the sweetness of an harmonious lyre. That deaf people can hear
best in a great noise is a fact alleged by some moderns , in favour of
the ancient story of curing deafness by a trumpet. Dr. Willis tells us,
says Dr. Burney , of a lady who could hear only while a drum was
beating , insomuch (hat her husband, the account says, hired a
drummer as her servant, in order to enjoy the pleasure of her con-
versation.

Music and the sounds of instruments , says the lively Yigneul dc
I^Iarville, contribute to the health of the body and the mind; they
quicken the circulation of the blood, they dissipate vapours, and open
the vessels, so that the action of perspiration is freer. He tells a story
of a person of distinction, who assured him, that once being suddenly
seized by violent illness , instead of a consultation of physicians, he
immediately called a band of musicians ; and their violins played so
well in his inside, that his bowels became perfectly in tune , and in
a few hours were harmoniously becalmed. I once heard a story of
Tarinclli the famous singer, who was sent for to Madrid, to try the
elTect of his magical voice on the king of Spain. His majesty was
buried in the profoundesl melancholy : nothing could raise an emo-
tion in him ; he lived in a total oblivion of life ; he sate in a darkened
chamber, entirely given up to the most distressing kind of madness.
The physicians ordered Farinelli at first to sing in an outer room ;
and for the first day or two this was done , without any effect on the
royal patient. At length it was observed , that the king , awakening
from his stupor , seemed to listen ; on the next day tears were seen
starling in his eyes; the day alter he ordered (he door of his chamber
to be leil open — and at length (he perturbed si)iril entirely left our

MEDICAL MUSIC. 229

modern Saul , .and Ihc medicinal voice of FarincUi affected what no
other medicine could.

I now prepare to give the reader ?,on\Qfacls , which he may con-
sider as a trial of credulity. — Their authorities are, however, not
contemptible. — Naturalists assert that animals and birds , as well as
" knotted oaks ," as Congreve informs us , are sensible to the charms
of music. This may serve as an instance : — An officer was confined
in 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 habita-
tions, crowds of spiders , who formed a circle about him , while he
continued breathing his soul-subduing instrument. He was petrifijed
with astonishment. 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 be-
fore he ventured again to touch his instrument. At length, having
overcome , for the novelty of his company, his dislike of them , he
recommenced his concert , when the assembly was by far more nu-
merous 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 Or-
phean skill he displayed.

The Abb6 Ohvet has described an amusement of Pelisson during
his confinement in the Bastile which consisted in feeding a spider,
which he had discovered forming its web in the corner of the small
window. For some time he placed his flies at the edge, while his valet,
who was with him , played on a bagpipe : little by little , the spider
used itself to distinguish the sound of the instrument , and issued
from its hole to run and catch its prey. Thus calling it always by the
same sound , and placing the flies at a still greater distance , he sui;-
ceeded , after several months , to drill the si)ider by regular exercise,
so that at length it never failed appearing at the first sound to seize on
tlie fly provided for it , even on the knees of the prisoner.

Marville has given us the follow ing curious anecdote on this sub-
ject. He says, that doubting the truth of those who say that the love
of music is a natural taste, especially the sound of instruments , and
that beasts themselves are touched by it, being one day in the coun-
try I tried an experiment. While a man was playing on the trump
marine , I made my observations on a cat , a dog , a horse , an ass ,

230 MEDICAL MUSIC.

a hind , cows , small birds , and a cock and hens , who were in a
yard , under a window on which I was leaning. I did not perceive
that the cat was the least affected , and I even judged , by her air,
that she would have given all the instruments in the world for a
mouse , sleeping in the sun all the time ; the horse stopped short
from time to time before the window, raising his head up now and
then , as he was feeding on the grass ^ the dog continued for above
an hour seated on his hind legs , looking steadfastly at the player ^
the ass did not discover the least indication of his being touched ,
eating his thistles peaceably ; the hind lifted up her large wide ears ,
and seemed very attentive; the cows slept a little , and after gazing,
as though they had been acquainted with us, went forward; some
little birds who were in an aviary, and others on the trees and bush-
es, almost tore their little throats with singing; but the cock, who
minded only his hens , and the hens , who were solely employed
in scraping a neighbouring dunghill , did not show in any manner
that they took the least pleasure in hearing the trump marine.

A modern traveller assures us , that he has repeatedly observed
in the island of Madeira that the lizards are attracted by the notes
of music, and that he has assembled a number of them By the powers
of his instrument. When the negroes catch them , for food, they ac-
company the chase by whistling some tunc , which has always the
effect of drawing great numbers towards them. Stedman , in his ex-
pedition to Surinam , describes certain sibyls among the negroes ,
who, among several singular practices, can charm or conjure down
from the tree certain serpents, who will wreath about the arm, neck,
and breast of the pretended sorceress, listening to her voice. The
sacred writers speak of the charming of adders and serpents ; and
nothing , says he , is more notorious than that the eastern Indians
will rid the houses of the most venomous snakes , by charming them
with the sound of a flute, which calls them out of their holes. These
anecdotes seem fully confirmed by Sir William Jones , in his disser-
tation on the musical modes of the Hindus.

"After food, when the operations of digestion and absorption
give so much employment to the vessels , that a temporary state of
mental repose must be found, especially in hot climates, essential
to health , it seems reasonable to believe that a few agreeable airs ,
cither heard or played without elfort , must have all the good effects
of sleep, and none of its disadvantages ; putti/ig the soul in tune,
as Milton says , for any subsecjuent exertion ; an experiment often
successfully made by myself. I have been assured by a credible eye-
witness, that two wild antelopes used often to come from their
woods to the placi; where a more savage beast , Sin'ijuddaulah , en-
tertained liiinself with concerts, and that they listened to the strains

MEDICAL MUSIC. 211

with an appearance of pleasure , lili the monster , in whose soul
there was no music, shot one of them to display his archery. A
learned native told me that he had frequently seen the most veno-
mous and malignant snakes leave their holes upon hearing tunes on
a tlute , which , as he supposed , gave them peculiar d(!lighl. An in-
telligent Persian declared he had more than once been present ,
when a celebrated lutenisl, surnamed Bulbul (i. e. the nightingale),
was playing to a large company, in a grove near Schiraz , where
he distinctly saw the nightingales trying to vie with the musician ,
sometimes warbling on the trees, sometimes fluttering from branch
to branch , as if they wished to approach the instrument , and at
length dropping on the ground in a kind of ecstasy, from which
they were soon raised , he assured me , by a change in the mode."

Jackson of Exeter, in reply to the question of Dryden , *' What
passion cannot music raise or quell? " sarcastically returns , " What
passion can nmsic raise or quell?" Would not a savage , who had
never listened to a musical instrument, feel certain emotions at lis-
tening to one for the first time? But civilised man is, no doubt,
particularly affected by association of ideas , as all pieces of na-
tional music evidently prove.

The Rans des Vaches , mentioned by Rousseau in his Dictio-
nary of Music , though without any thing striking in the compo-
sition , has such a powerful influence over the Swiss , and impresses
them with so violent a desire to return to their own country, that it is
forbidden to be played in the Swiss regiments , in the French ser-
vice, on pain of death. There is also a Scotch tune, which has tiie
same effect on some of our North Britons. In one of our battles in
Calabria , a bagpiper of the 78th Highland regiment , when the
light infantry charged the French , posted himself on the right, and
remained in his solitary situation during the whole of the battle, en-
couraging the men with a famous Highland charging tune ; and
actually upon the retreat and complete rout of the French changed it
to another, equally celebrated in Scotland upon the retreat of and vic-
tory over an enemy. His next-hand neighbour guarded him so well
that he escaped unhurt. This was the spirit of the " Last Minstrel ,"
who infused courage among his countrymen , by possessing it in so
animated a degree , and in so venerable a character.

MINUTE WRITING.

The Iliad of Homer in a nutshell, which Pliny says that Cicero
once saw, it is pretended might have been a fact , however to some
it may appear impossible, jElian notices an artist who wrote a distich
in letters of gold , which he enclosed in the rind of a grain of corn.

232 MINUTE WRIimG.

Anliqiiily and modern times record many such penmen , whoso
glory consisted in writing in so small a hand that the writing could
not be legible to the naked eye. Menage mentions , he saw whole
sentences which were not perceptible to the eye without the mi-
croscope 5 pictures and portraits which appeared at first to be lines
and scratches thrown down at random 5 one formed the face of the
Dauphiness with the most correct resemblance. He read an Italian
poem, in praise of this princess , containing some thousand verses,
written by an officer in a space of a foot and a half. This species of
curious idleness has not been lost in our own country ; where this
minute writing has equalled any on record. Peter Bales, a cele-
brated caligrapher in the reign of Elizabeth , astonished the eyes of
beholders by showing them what they could not see •, for in the
Harleian MSS. 530 , we have a narrative of " a rare piece of work
brought to pass by Peter Bales , an Englishman , and a clerk of the
chancery-," it seems by the description to have been the whole
Bible " in an English walnut no bigger than a hen's egg. The nut
holdeth the book : there are as many leaves in his little book as the
great Bible , and he hath w ritten as much in one of his little leaves
as a great leaf of the Bible." We are told that this wonderfully
unreadable copy of the Bible was " seen by many thousands." There
is a drawing of the head of Charles I. in the library of St. John's
College at Oxford , wholly composed of minute written characters ,
which, at a small distance , resemble the lines of an engraving. The
lines of the head, and the ruff, are said to contain the book of
Psalms , the Creed, and the Lord's Prayer. In the British Museum
we find a drawing representing the portrait of Queen Anne, not
much above the size of the hand. On this drawing appear a number
of lines and scratches , which the librarian assures the marvelling
spectator includes the entire contents of a Ihin folio , which on this
occasion is carried in the hand.

The learned Huet asserts that , like the rest of the world , he con-
sidered as a fiction the story of that indefatigable triller who is said
to have inclosed tiie Iliad in a nutshell. Examining the matter more
closely, he thought it possible. One day this learned man trifled half
an hour in demonstrating it. A piece of vellum , about ten inches
in length and eight in width, pliant imd firm , can be folded up,
and enclosed in the shell of a large walnut. It can hold in its breadth
one line, which can contain 30 verses, and in its length 250 lines.
With a cnnv-quill the writing can be perfect. A page of this piece of
vellum will then contain 7500 verses , and the reverse as much ; the
whole 15000 verses of the Iliad. And this he proved by using a piece
of paper, and with a connnon pen. The thing is possible to be ef-
fected ^ and if on any occasion paper should be mo^f^cxcessiveh

NUMERICAL FIGURES. 23 J

rare, it may be useful to know llial a volume of mailer may be con-
laincd in a single leaf.

NUMERICAL FIGURES.

The learned, after many contests, have at length agreed Ihal liie
numerical figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, C, 7, 8, 9, usually called Arabic ,
are of Indian origin. The Arabians do not pretend to have been
the inventors of them, but borrowed them from the Indian nations.
Tlie numeral characters of the Bramins , the Persians , and the Ara-
bians , and other eastern nations , are similar. The appear after-
wards to have been introduced into several European nations , by
llieir respective travellers, who returned from the East. They \sere
admitted into calendars and chronicles , but they were not intro-
duced into charters, says Mr. Astle, before the sixteenth century.
The Spaniards , no doubt , derived their use from the Moors who
invaded them. In 1240, the Alphonsean astronomical tables were
made by the order of Alphonsus X. by a Jew, and an Arabian ; they
used these numerals , from w hence the Spaniards contend that they
were first introduced by them.

They were not generally used in Germany until the beginning
of the fourteenth century •, but in general the forms of the ciphers
were not permanently fixed there till after the year 1531. The Rus-
sians were strangers to them , before Peter the Great had finished
his travels in the beginning of the present century.

The origin of these useful characters with the Indians and Ara-
bians , is attributed to their great skill in the arts of astroncmy and
of arillimetic , which required more convenient characters than al-
phabetic letters, for the expressing of numbers.

Before the introduction into Europe of these Arabic numerals ,
they used alphabetical characters , or Roman numerals. The
learned author of the Nouveau Traite Diplomatique , the most va-
luable work on every thing concerning the arts and progress of
writing , have given some curious notices on the origin of the Ro-
man numerals. Originally men counted by their fingers 5 thus to
mark the first four numbers they used an I , which naturally re-
presents them. To mark the fifth, they chose a V, which is made
out by bending inwards the three middle fingers , and stretching
out only the thumb and the little finger ; and for the tenth they used
an X, which is a double Y, one placed topsyturvy under the other.
From this the progression of these numbers is always from one to
five, and from five to ten. The hundred was signified by the capital
letter of that word in Latin C — centum. The otlier letters D for 500 ,
and BI for a 1000, were afterwards added. They subsequently ab-

234 NUMERICAL IIGUFIES.

breviated their characters , by placing one of these figures before
another ; and the figure of less value before a higher number, de-
notes that so much may be deducted from a greater number ^ for in-
stance , IV signifies five less one , that is four ; IX ten less one , that
is nine ^ but these abbreviations are not found amongst the ancient
monuments. These numerical letters are still continued by us , in
the accounts of our Exchequer.

That men counted originally by their fingers, is no improbable
supposition ^ it is still naturally practised by the people. In semi-
civilised states, small stones have been used, and the etymologists
derive the words calculate and calculation from calculus , the
Latin term for a pebble-stone , and by which they denominated their
counters used for arithmetical computations.

Professor Ward , in a learned dissertation on this subject in the
Philosophical Transactions , concludes that it is easier to falsify the
Arabic ciphers than the Roman alphabetic numerals ; when 1735 is
dated in Arabic ciphers , if the 3 is only changed , three centuries
are taken away ; if the 3 is made into a 9 and take away the 1 , four
hundred years are added. Such accidents have assuredly produced
mucli confusion among our ancient manuscripts, and still do in our
printed books-, which is the reason that Dr. Robertson in his histo-
ries has always preferred writing his dates in words , rather than
confide them to the care of a negligent printer. Gibbon observes ,
that some remarkable mistakes have happened by the word mil. in
MSS. , which is an abbreviation for soldiers , or for thousands ;
and to this blunder he attributes the incredible numbers of martyr-
doms , which cannot otherwise be accounted for by historical
records.

ENGLISH ASTROLOGERS.

A BELIEF in judicial astrology can now only exist in the people,
who may be said to have no belief at all ^ for mere traditional sen-
timents can hardly be said to amount to a belief. But a faith in this
ridiculous system in our country is of late existence^ and was a
favourite superstition with the Learned.

When Charles the First was confined , Lilly the astrologer was
consulted for the hour which would favour his escape.

A story, whidi strongly proves how greatly Charles the Second
was bigoted to judicial astrology, is recorded in Burnel's History of
his (Jwn Times.

The most respectable characters of the age, Sir WiUiam Dudgale,
Klias Ashniole, Dr. Grew, and others, were members of an astro-
logical club. Congrevc's character of Foresight , in Love for Love

ENGLISH ASTROLOGERS. 235

was then no uncommon person , though the humour now is scarcely
intelligible.

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.

In 1670, the passion for horoscopes and expounding the stars
prevailed in France among the first rank. The new-born child was
usually presented naked to the astrologer, who read the first Hnea-
ments in its forehead; and the transverse lines in its hand, and
thence wrote down its future destiny. Catherine de Medicis brought
Henry IV. , then a child, to old Nostradamus, w hom antiquaries es-
teem more for his chronicle of Provence than his vaticinating pow-
ers. The sight of the reverend seer, with a beard which " streamed
like a meteor in the air," terrified the future hero, who dreaded a
whipping from so grave a personage. One of these magicians having
assured Charles IX. that he w ould live as many days as he should
turn about on his heels in an hour, standing on one leg, his majesty
every morning performed that solemn gyration 5 the principal offi-
cers of the court , the judges , the chancellors , and generals , like-
wise , in compliment, standing on one leg and turning round I

It has been reported of several famous for their aslrologic skill ,
that they have suffered a voluntary death merely to verify their own
predictions ; this has been repof ted of Cardan , and Burton , the
author of the Anatomy of Melancholy.

It is curious to observe the shifts to which astrologers are put
when their predictions are not verified. Great winds were predicted ,
by a famous adept, about the year 1586. No unusual storms, howe-
ver, happened. Bodin , to save the reputation of the art , applied it
as di figure to some revolutions in the state , and of which there
were instances enough at that moment. Among their lucky and un-
lucky days , they pretend to give those of various illustrious persons
and of families. One is very striking. — Thursday was the unlucky
day of our Henry VIII. He , his son Edward VI. , Queen Mary, and
Queen Ehsabeth, all died on a Thursday! This fact had, no
doubt , great weight in this controversy of the astrologers with their
adversaries.

Lilly, the astrologer, is the Sidrophel of Butler. His Life, written
by himself, contains so much artless narrative, and so much pal-
pable imposture , that it is difficult to know when he is speaking
what he really believes to be the truth. In a sketch of the state of
astrology in his day, those adepts , whose characters he has draw n ,
were the lowest miscreants of the town. They all speak of each other
as rogues and impostors. Such were Booker, Backhouse, Gadbury •,
men who gained a livelihood by practising on the credulity of even

23G ENGLISH ASTROLOGERS.

men of learning so late as in 1650, nor were lliey much oulol'dale
in the cighleenlh century. In Ashmole's Life an account of these
artful impostors may be found. Most of tliem had taken the air in
the pillory, and others had conjured themselves up to the gallows.
This seems a true statement of facts. But Lilly informs us , that in
his various conferences with angels , their voice resembled that of
the Irish!

The work contains anecdotes of the times. The amours of Lilly
with his mistress are characteristic. He was a very artful man, and
admirably managed matters which required deception and invention.

Astrology greatly flourished in the lime of the civil wars. The
royalists and the rebels had their astrologers , as well as their sol-
diers! and the predictions of the former had a great influence over
the latter.

On this subject, it may gratify curiosity to notice three or four
works , which bear an excessive price. The price cannot entirely
be occasioned by their rarity, and I am induced to suppose that we
have still adepts , whose faith nmst be strong , or whose scepticism
but weak.

The Chaldean sages were nearly put to the rout by a quarto park
of artillery, fired on them by Mr. John Cliamber in 1691. Apollo
did not use Marsyas more inhumanly than his scourging pen this
mystical race, and his personalities made them feel more sore. How-
ever, a Norwich knight , the very Quixote of astrology, arrayed in
the enchanted armour of his occult authors, encountered this pagan
in a most stately carousal. He came forth with " A Defence of Judi-
ciall Astrologye , in answer to a treatise lately published by Mr. John
Chamber. By Sir Christopher Heydon, Knight; printed at Cam-
bridge, 1603." This is a handsome quarto of about 500 pages. Sir
Christopher is a learned writer , and a knight worthy to defend a
better cause. But his Dulcinea had wrought most wonderfully on
his imagination. This defence of this fanciful science , if science it
may be called, demonstrates nothing , while it defends every thing.
It confutes , according to the knight's own ideas : it alleges a few
scattered facts hi favour of astrological predictions, which may be
picked up in that immensity of fabling which disgraces history. He
sirenuosly denies, or ridicules, what the greatest writers have said
against this fancil'ul art, while he lays great stress on some passages
from authors of no authority. The most pleasant part is at the close,
where he defends the art from the objections of Mr. Chaniber by re-
crimination. Chamber liad enriched himself by medical [iractice^
and when he charges the astrologers with merely aiming to gain a
few beggarly iience. Sir Christopher cat(;hes lire, and shows by his
quotations , that if we are to <lespise an art , by its professors at-

ENGLISH ASTROLOGERS. 237

loniplins lo subsist on it, or for lh(M)l)i('(lions wliicli may Ik; raised
against its vital principles, we ou^ilit by this ari;;miieiit most heartily
((> despise the medical science and medical men! He f^ives here all
he can collect at!;ainst physic and physicians; and from (he confes-
sions of Hippocrates and Galen, Avicenna and Agrip[)a, medicines
appears to be a vainer science than even astrology I Sir Christopher
is a shrewd and ingenious adversary ; but when he says he means
only to give Mr. Chamber oil for his vinegar, he has totally mistaken
its quality.

The defence was answered by Thomas Vicars in his " Madnesse
of Astrologers."

But the great work is by Lilly •, and entirely devoted to the adepts.
He defends nothing; for this oracle delivers his dictum, and details
every event as matters not questionable. He sits on the tripod; and
every page is embellished by a horoscope , which he explains with
the utmost fiicility. This voluminous monument of the folly of the age
is a quarto valued at some guineas ! It is entitled, " Christian Astro-
logy, modestly treated of in three books, by William Lilly, student
in Astrology, 2nd edition, 1659." The most curious part of this
work is " a Catalogue of.most astrological authors." There is also
a portrait of this arch rogue, and astrologer I an admirable illustration
for Lavater I

Lilly's opinions , and his pretended science , w ere such favourites
w ith the age , that the learned Gataker wrote professedly against
this popular delusion. Lilly, at the head of his star-expounding
friends , not only formally replied (o but persecuted Gataker annually
in his predictions, and even struck at his ghost, when beyond the
grave. Gataker died in July, 1654 ; and Lilly having written in his
almanack of that year for the month of August this barbarous Latin
verse : —

Hoc in tuinbo jacet preslyter et nebulo !

Here in this tomb lies a presbyter and a kuave!

he had the impudenee to assert that Me had predicted Gataker's
death! But the truth is, it was an epilSph like lodgings to let; it
stood empty ready for the first passenger to inhabit. Had any other
of that party of any eminence died in that month, it would have
been as appositely applied to him. But Lilly was an exquisite rogue,
and never at a fault. Having prophesied in his almanack for 1650,
that the parliament stood upon a tottering foundation , w hen taken
up by a messenger, during the night he was confined , he contrived,
to cancel the page, printed off another, and showed his copies
before the committee , assuring them that the others were none of
his ow n , but forged by his enemies.

2;iS ALCHYMY.

ALCHYMY.

Mrs. Thomas, the Corinna of Dryden, in her Life, had recorded
one of the delusions of alchymy.

An infatuated lover of this delusive art met with one who pretended
to have the power of transmuting lead to gold 5 that is, in their
language , the imperfect metals to the perfect one. The 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 on a pivot ; so that , unseen
and unseeing, his meals were conveyed to him without distracting
the sublime meditations 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 asto-
nishment , stills , immense caldrons , long flues , and three or four
A'ukanian 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 pro-
gresses ; and having sometimes condescended to explain the myste-
ries 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. Al-
ready 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 surprised at his tardy processes ;
but that now he would ex^rt 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 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, and one part of the laboratory and the house were in flames.
We are told that , after another adventure of this kind , this victim
to alchymy, after ruining another patron , in dcsi)air swallowed
poison.

ALCHYMY. 23f)

Even more recenlly we have a history of an alcliymist in Ihe life
of Romney, (he painter. This alchymisl , after bestowing much time
and money on preparations for the grand projection , and being near
the decisive hour, w as induced , by Itie too earnest request of his
wife, to quit his furnace one evening , to attend some of lier com-
pany at the tea-table. While the projector was attending the ladies ,
his furnace blew up! In consequence of this event, he conceived
such an antipathy against his wife , that he could not endure the
idea of living w ilh her again.

TIcnry VI. , Evelyn observes in his Numismata, endeavoured to
recruit his empty cofl'ers by alc/iymy. The record of this singular
proposition contains "the most solemn and serious account of the
feasibility and virtues of the philosopher s stone , encouraging the
search after it, and dispensing with all statutes and prohibitions to
the contrary." This record was probably communicated by Mr. Sel-
den to his beloved friend Ben Jonson, when the poet was writing
his comedy of the Alcliymist.

Atler this patent w as published , many promised to answer the
king's expectations so effectually, that the next year he published
another patent; wherein he tells his subjects, that the happy hour
was drawing nigh , and by means of the stone , which he should
soon be master of, he would pay all the debts of the nation in real
gold and siluer. The persons picked out for his new operators were
as remarkable as the patent itself, being a most " miscellaneous rab-
ble" of friars, grocers, mercers, and fishmongers I

This patent was likewise granted aiithoritate Parlianienti; and
is given by Prynne in his Aiirum liegince, p. 135.

Alchymists were formerly called multipliers, dWhon^h they never
covlXA multiply ; as appears from a statute of Henry lY. repealed in
the preceding record.

"None from henceforth shall use to multiply gold or silver, or
use the craft oj multiplication: and if any the same do, he shall
incur the pain of felony." Among the articles charged on the Pro-
tector Somerset is this extraordinary one : — "^ You commanded mul-
tiplication -and alcumestry to be practised , thereby to abate the
king's coin.'' Stowe , p. 601. What are we to understand? Did they
believe that alchymy would be so productive of the precious metals
as to abate the value of the coin ; or does multiplication refer to
an arbitrary rise in the currency by order of the government?

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

2ii) ALCHYMY.

lo be huriil lliroughoul Ihc Pioman dominions : Caesar, who is not
less lo be admired as a philosopher Uian as a monarcli.

Mr. Gibbon has this succinct passage relative to alchymy : " The
ancient books of alchymy, so liberally ascribed to Pythagoras , lo
Solomon, or to Hermes, were Ihc pious frauds of more recent
adepts. The Greeks were inattentive cither lo the use or the abuse
of chemistry. 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 perse-
cution 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
eqnal success. The darkness of the middle ages ensured a favour-
able reception lo every tale of wonder 5 and the revival of learning
gave new vigour lo hope , and suggested more specious arts to de-
ception. Philosophy, with the aid of experience, has at length
banished the study of alchymy^ and Ihe present age, however
desirous of riches , is content to seek Ihem by the humbler means
of commerce and industry."

Elias Ashmole writes in his diary — " May 13, 1653. My father
Backhouse (an astrologer who had adopted him for his son, a
common practice with these men) lying sick in Fleet-street , over
against St. Dunstan's church , and not knowing whether he should
live or die, about eleven of the clock, told me in syllables the
true matter of the philosopher's stone , which he bequeathed to
me as a legacy.'' By this we learn that a miserable wretch knew
the art of making gold , yet always lived a beggar ; and that
Ashmole really imagined he was in possession of the syllables of a
secret! He has, however, built a curious monument of the learned
folUesof the last age, in his "Thcatrum Clicmicum Britannicum."
ThougVi Ashmole is rather the historian of this vain science than an
adept , it may amuse literary leisure lo turn over this quarto vo-
lume , in which he has collected the works of several English alchy-
mists, subjoining his commentary. It affords a curious specimen of
Kosicrucian mysteries ; and Ashmole relates several miraculous sto-
ries. Of the philosopher's stone, he says he knows enough to hold
his tongue, but not enough to speak. This stone has not only the
power of transmuting any imperfect earthy luattcr into its utmost
degree of perfection , and can convert the basest metals into gold,
tlinls into stone, etc. ^ but it has till more occult virtues, when
the arcana have been entered into by the choice fathers of hermetic
mysteries. The vegetable stone has power over the natures of man ,
beast , fowls , fishes, and all kinds of trees and plants , lo make Ihem

ALCHYMY. 2il

nourish and bear fruit al any time. The mafjical stone discovers
any person wherever lie is concealed; while the angelical stone
gives the apparitions of angels , and a power of conversing with
Ihem. These great mysteries are supported by occasional facts,
and illustrated by prints of the most divine and incomprehensible
designs, which we would hope were intelligible io the initiated. It
may be worth showing , however, how liable even the latter were
to blunder on these mysterious hieroglyphics. Ashmole, in one of
his chemical w orks , prefixed a frontispiece , which , in several com-
partments, exhibited Phoebus on a lion , and opposite to him a lady,
w ho represented Diana , with tlie moon in one hand and an arrow
in the otlier, sitting on a crab; Mercury on a tripod, with the
scheme of the heavens in one hand , and his caduceus in the other.
These w ere intended to express the materials of the stone , and the
season for the process. Upon the altar is the bust of a man , his
head covered by an astrological scheme dropped from the clouds ;
and on the altar are these words , " Mcrcuriophilus Anglicus," i. e.
the English lover of hermetic philosophy. There is a tree, and a
little creature gnaw ing the root , a pillar adorned w ith musical and
mathematical instruments , and another with military ensigns. This
strange composition created great inquiry among tlie chemical sages.
Deep mysteries were conjectured to be veiled by it Verses were
written in the highest strain of the Rosicrucian language. Ashmole
confessed he meant nothing more than a kind of pun on his ow n
name, for tree was the ash, and the creature was a mole. One
pillar tells his love of music and freemasonry, and the other his
military preferment and astrological studies! He afterwards regret-
ted that no one added a second volume to his w ork , from w hich he
himself had been hindered , for the honour of the family of Hermes,
and "to show the world what excellent men wc had once of our
nation , famous for this kind of philosophy, and masters of so trans-
cendent a secret.''

Modern chemistry is not without a hope, not to say a certainty,
of verifying the golden visions of the alchymists. Dr. Girtanner, of
Gottingen , not long ago adventured the following prophecy : " In
the nineteenth cenliiry the transmutation of metals will be gene-
rally known and practised. Every chemist and every artist will
make gold; kitchen utensils will be of silver, and even gold, which
will contribute more than any thing else to prolong life , poisoned
at present by the oxides of copper, lead , and iron , w hich we daily
swallow^ with our food.'" Phil. Mag. Vol. YI. p. 383. This sublime
chemist, though he does not venture to predict that universal elixir,
which is to prolong life at pleasure , yet approximates to il. A che-
mical friend writes to me , that " The metals seem to be compo-

i. IG

242 ALCHYMY.

site bodies , wicli nature is perpetually preparing ^ and it may be
reserved for the future researches of science to trace , and perhaps
to iuiitate, some of these curious operations." Sir Humphry Davy
told me that he did not consider this undiscovered art an impossible
thing, but which, should it ever be discovered, would certainly
be useless.

TITLES OF BOOKS.

Were it inquired of an ingenious writer what page of his work
had occasioned him most perplexity, he would often point to the
title-page. The curiosity which we there would excite, is, however,
most fastidious to gratify.

Among those who appear to have felt this irksome situation , are
most of our periodical writers. The " Tatler" and the " Spectator"
enjoying priority of conception , have adopted titles with character-
istic felicity ; but perhaps the invention of the authors begins to fail
in the " Reader," the " Lover," and the "Theatre ! " Succeeding
writers were as unfortunate in their titles , as their works •, such are
the " Universal Spectator," and the "Lay Monastery." The copious
mind of Johnson could not discover an appropriate title, and indeed
in the first " Idler," acknowledged his despair. The " Rambler"
was so little understood, at the time of its appearance, that a French
journalist has translated it " Ze Chevalier errant; " and when it
was corrected to V Errant, a foreigner drank Johnson's health one
day, by innocently addressing him by the appellation of Mr. "Va-
gabond! " The " Adventurer " cannot be considered as a fortunate
title 5 it is not appropriate to those pleasing miscellanies, for any
writer is an adventurer. The " Lounger," the " Mirror," and even
the " Connoisseur," if examined accurately, present nothing in the
titles descriptive of the works. As for the "World ," it could only
have been given by the fashionable egotism of its authors , who
considered the world as merely a circuit round St. James's Street.
When the celebrated father of all reviews , Le Journal des Sca-
vants, was first published, the very title repulsed the public. The
author was obliged in his succeeding volumes to soften it down , by
explaining its general tendency. He there assures the curious , that
not only men of learning and taste , but the humblest mechanic ,
may find a profitable amusement. An English novel, published with
the title of " The Champion of Virtue ," could find no readers ; but
afterwards passed through several editions under the happier invi-
tation of "The Old English Baron." " The Concubine," » poem
by Mickle , could never find purchasers , fill it assumed the more
delicate title of " Sir Martyn."

TITLES OF BOORS. 243

As a subject of literary curiosity, some amusement may be ga-
thered from a glance at what has been doing in the world , concern-
ing this important portion of every book.

The Jewish and many oriental authors were fond of allegorical
titles, which always indicate the most puerile age of taste. The titles
were usually adapted to Ihoir obscure works. It might exercise an
able enigmatist to explain their allusions •, for we must understand
by " The Heart of Aaron ," that it is a commentary on several of
the prophets. "The Bones of Joseph " is an introduction to the
Talmud. "■ The Garden of Nuts ," and '•' The Golden Apples ," are
theological questions; and " The Pomegranate with its Flower," is
a treatise of ceremonies, not any more practised. Jortin gives a title,
which he says of alJ the fantastical titles he can recollect is one of
the prettiest. A rabbin published a catalogue of rabbinical writers,
and called it Labia dormientium , from Cantic. vii. 9. " Like the
best wine of my beloved that goeth down sweetly, causing t/ie lips
of those that are asleep to speak.'' It hath a double meaning,
of which he was not aware, for most of his rabbinical brethren talk
very much like men in their sleep.

Almost all their works bear such titles as bread — gold — silver —
roses — eyes , etc. ^ in a word, any thing that signifies nothing.

Affected title-pages were not peculiar to the orientals : the Greeks
and the Romans have shown a finer taste. They had their Cornu-
copias , or horns of abundance — Limones , or meadows — Pinaki-
dions , or tablets — Pancarpes , or all sorts of fruits \ titles not un-
happily adapted for the miscellanies. The nine books of Herodotus,
and the nine epistles of jEschines , w ere respectively honoured by
the name of a Muse ; and three orations of the latter , by those of
the Graces.

The modern fanatics have had a most barbarous taste for titles.
We could produce numbers from abroad , and at home. Some works
have been called , " Matches lighted at the Divine Fire," — and one
" The Gun of Penitence : " a collection of passages from the fathers
is called " The Shop of the Spiritual Apothecary : " we have " The
Bank of Faith ," and " The Sixpenny worth of Divine Spirit : one of
these works bears the following elaborate title •, " Some fine Biscuits
baked in the Oven of Charity, carefully conserved for the Chickens
of the Church , the sparrows of the Spirit , and the sweet Swallows
of Salvation." Sometimes their quaintness has some humour. Sir
Humphrey Lind , a zealous puritan , published a work w hich a Je-
suit answered by another, entitled " A pair of spectacles for Sir
Humphrey Lind." The doughty knight retorted, by " A Case for
Sir Humphrey Lind's Spectacles."

Some of these obscure titles have an entertaining absurdity ; as

2'ii TITLES OF BOOKS.

"• The Three Daughters of Job," which is a treatise on the three vir-
tues of patience, fortitude, and pain. " The innocent Love, or the
Holy Rnight , " is a description of the ardours of a saint of the
Virgin. " The Sound of the Trumpet," is a work on the day of
judgment ] and " A Fan to drive away Fhes ," is a theological trea-
tise on purgatory.

We must not write to the utter neglect of our title •, and a fair
author should have the literary piety of ever having " the fear of his
title-page before his eyes." The following are improper titles. Don
Matthews, chief huntsma'n to Philip IV. of Spain, entitled his book
'■The Origin and Dignity of the Royal House," but the entire
work relates only to hunting. De Chahtereine composed several mo-
ral essays, which being at a loss how to entitle, he called " The
Education of a Prince." He would persuade the reader in his pre-
face , that though they were not composed with a view to this sub-
ject , they should not , however, be censured for the title , as they
partly related to the education of a prince. The world were too saga-
cious to be duped ^ and the author in his second edition acknowled-
ges the absurdity, drops " the magnificent title ," and calls his work
" Moral Essays." Montaigne's immortal history of his own mind,
for such are his " Essays ," has assumed perhaps too modest a title
and not sufficiently discriminative. Sorlin equivocally entitled a col-
lection of essays, " The Walks of Richelieu," because they were
composed at that place ^ '•' the Attic Nights " of Aulus Gelhus were
so called , because they were written in Attica. Mr. Took , in his
grammatical " Diversions of Parley, must have deceived many.

A rodomontade title-page was once a great favourite. There was
a time when the republic of letters was over-built with " Palaces
of Pleasure," " Palaces of Honour," and "Palaces of Eloquence 5 "
with " Temples of Memory," and "• Theatres of Human Life ," and
" Amphitheatres of Providence ; " " Pharoses, Gardens, Pictures,
Treasures." The epistles of Guevara dazzled the public eye with
their splendid title, for they were called " Golden Epistles •, " and
the" Golden Legend" of Voragine had been more appropriately
entitled leaden.

They were once so fond of novelty, that every book recommended
itself by such titles as " A nev/ Method;, new Elements of Geome-
try ^ the new Letter Writer, and the new Art of Cookery."

To excite the curiosity of the pious , some writers employed ar-
tifices of a very ludicrous nature. Some made their titles rhyming
echoes 5 as this one of a father, who has given his works under
the title of Scalca Alcn anbni: and Jesus csus iiouus Orbis. Some
have distributed them according to the measure of lime , as one
Father Nadasi , the greater part of whose works are years , months ^

riTLES 01' ROOKS. f?'i/.

■weeks , days, and /tours. Some liavc borrowed their lilies from
the parts of Ihe body ; and olhcrs have used quainl expressions, such
as , — TJiiiik before you leap — IT'e must all die — Compel them
to enter. Some of our pious aulhors appear nol to have been awar(^
that Ihey were burlesquing religion. One Massieu having wrillen a
moral explanation of Ihe solemn anlhems sung in Advent , which
begin with Ihc letter O, published this work under the punning title
of La douce Moelle , et la Saussefriande des os Sai^oureux de
I'Aventi

The Marquis of Caraccioli assumed the ambiguous title of La
Jouissance de soi-meme. Seduced by the epicurean title-page of
self enjoyment , the sale of the work w^as continual with the liber-
tines, who however, found nothing but very tedious essays on religion
and morality. In the sixth edition the marquis greatly exults in his
successful contrivance •, by w hich means he had punished the vicious
curiosity of certain persons, and perliaps had persuaded some , whoui
otherwise his book might never have reached.

If a title be obscure , it raises a prejudice against the author^ we
are apt to suppose that an ambiguous title is the effect of an intricate
or confused mind. Baillet censures the Ocean Macro-micro-cosmick
of one Sachs. To understand this title, a grammarian would send
an inquirer to a geographer, and he io a natural philosopher ^ neither
would probably think of recurring to a physician , to inform one
that this ambiguous title signifies the connexion w hich exists between
the motion of the waters with that of the blood. He censures Leo
Allatius for a title which appears to me not inelegantly conceived.
This w Titer has entitled one of his books the Urban Bees ,• it is an
account of those illustrious writers who flourished during the pon-
tificate of one of the Barberinis. The allusion refers to the bees
which were the arms of this family , and Urban VIII. is the Pope
designed.

The false idea which a title conveys is alike prejudicial to the
author and the reader. Titles are generally too prodigal of their pro-
mises , and their authors are contemned ; but the w orks of modest
authors , though they present more than they promise , may fail of
attracting notice by their extreme simphcity. In either case, a col-
lector of books is prejudiced; he is induced to collect what merits
no attention , or he passes over tliose valuable works whose titles
may not happen to be interesting. It is related of Pinelli , the cele-
brated collector of books, that the booksellers permitted him to
remain hours , and sometimes days , in their shops to examine
books before he purchased. He was desirous of not injuring his
precious collection by useless acquisitions ; but he confessed
that he sometimes could not help being dazzled by magnificent

246 TITLES OF BOOKS.

titles , nor being mistaken by the simplicity of others , which
had been chosen by the modesty of their authors. After all , many
authors are really neither so vain , nor so honest , as they appear •,
for magnificent , or simple titles , have often beei» given from the
difTicully of forming any others.

It is too often with the Titles of Books , as with those painted
representations exhibited by the keepers of wild beasts ; where , in
general , the picture itself is made more striking and inviting to the
eye , than the inclosed animal is always found to be.

LITERARY FOLLIES.

The Greeks composed lypogrammatic works ; works in which
one letter of the alphabet is omitted. A lypogrammatist is a letter-
dropper. In this manner Tryphiodorus w rote his Odyssey : he had
not a in his first book , nor /3 in his second ; and so on with the
subsequent letters one after another. This Odyssey was an imita-
tion of the lypogrammatic Iliad of Nestor. Among other works of
this kind , Athenieus mentions an ode by Pindar, in which he had
purposely omitted the letter S 5 so that this inept ingenuity appears
to have been one of those literary fashions which are sometimes
encouraged even by those who should first oppose such progresses
into the realms of nonsense.

There is in Latin a little prose work of Fulgentius , which the
author divides into twenty-three chapters , according to the order of
the twenty-three letters of the Latin alphabet. From A to O are still
remaining. The first chapter is without A; the second without B;
llie third without C ; and so with the rest. There are five novels in
prose of Lope de Vega ^ the first without A , the second without E,
the tliird without I , etc. Who will attempt to verify them?

The Orientalists are not without this literary folly. A Persian poet
read to the celebrated Jami a gazel of his own composition , which
Jami did not like-, but tlie v;riter replied, it was notwithstanding a
very curious sonnet , for the letter Alijf \iA?> not to be found in any
one of the words ! Jami sarcastically replied , " You can do a better
thing yet •, take away all the letters from every word you have
written. "

To these works may be added the Ecloga de Cahis, by Hugbald
the monk. All the words of this silly work begin with a C. It is
printed in Dornavius. Pug/ia Porcorum; all the words beginning
with a P. in the Nugai Ycnales. Caniim cunt, cattis certainen^ the
words beginning with a C : a performance of the same kind in the
same work, (iregorio Leti presented a discourse to the Academy of
the Humorists at Rome, throughout which he had purposely omitted

LITERARY I OLLIES. S4T

the letter R, and he entitled it the exiled R. A friend having
requested a copy , as a literary curiosity, for so he considered this
idle performance, Leti, to show that this affair was not so diflicult,
replied by a copious answer of seven pages , in which he had ob-
served the same severe ostracism against the letter R ! Lord North ,
in the court of James L, has written a set of Sonnets , each of which
begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. The Earl of Rivers
in the reign of Edward lY. translated the Moral Proverbs of Chris-
tina of Pisa , a poem of about two hundred lines , the greatest
part of which he contrived to conclude with the letter E ^ an instance
of his lordship's hard application, and the bad taste of an age which,
Lord Orford observes, had witticisms and whims to struggle with ,
as well as ignorance.

It has been well observed of these minute Iritlers , that extreme
exactness is the sublime of fools, whose labours may be well
called , in the language of Dryden ,

" Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry."

And Martial says ,

Turpe est difficiles habere nugas ,
Et stultus labor est iueptiarum.

Which we may translate,

'Tis a folly to sweat o'er a difficult trifle,
And for silly devices invention to rifle.

I shall not dwell on the wits who composed verses in the forms of
hearts, wings, altars, and true-love knots ^ or as Ben Jonson des-
cribes their grotesque shapes ,

" A pair of scissors and a comb in verse."

Tom Nash , who loved to push the ludicrous to its extreme , in
his amusing invective against the classical Gabriel Harvey, tells us
that " he had writ verses in all kinds ^ in form of a pair of gloves ,
a pair of spectacles, and a pair of pot-hooks , etc. " They are not
less absurd, who expose to public ridicule the name of their mistress
by employing it to form their acrostics. I have seen some of the
latter, where both sides and cross-ways, the name of the mistress
or the patron has been sent down to posterity with eternal torture.
Where one name is made outyb«7- times in the same acrostic ,
the great difTicuUy must have been to have found words by which
the letters forming the name should be forced to stand in their
particular places. It might be incredible that so great a genius as
Boccaccio could have lent.himself to these literary fashions 5 yet one

248 LITERARY FOLLIES.

of the most gigantic of acrostics may be seen in his works , it is a
poem of fifty cantos ! Ginguen6 has preserved a specimen in his
Literary History of Italy, vol. III. p. 54. Puttenham , in "The Art
of Poesie, " p. 75, gives several odd specimens of poems in the
forms of lozenges, rhomboids, pillars , etc. Puttenham has contrived
to form a defence for describing and making such trifling devices.
He has done more : he has erected two pillars himself to the honour
of Queen Ehzabeth ] every pillar consists of a base of eight syllables,
the shaft or middle of four, and the capital is equal with the base.
The only difference between the two pillars consists in this 5 in the
one " ye must read upwards, " and in the other the reverse. These
pillars , notwithstanding this fortunate device and variation , may
be fixed as two columns in the porch of the vast temple of literary
folly.

It was at this period when %vords or averse were tortured into
such fantastic forms, that the trees in gardens were twisted and
sheared into obelisks and giants, peacocks, or flower-pots. In a
copy of verses, " To a hair of my mistress's eye-lash, " the merit,
next to the choice of the subject , must have been the arrangement,
or the disarrangement, of the whole poem into the form of a heart.
With a pair of wings many a sonnet fluttered , and a sacred hymn
was expressed by the mystical triangle. Acrostics are formed from
the initial letters of every verse ^ but a different conceit regulated
chronogianis, which were used to describe dates — the jiumeral
letters, in whatever part of the word they stood , were distinguished
from other letters by being written in capitals. In the following
chronogram from Horace ,

— -feriam sidera vertice ,

by a strange elevation of capitals the chronogrammatist compels
even Horace to give the year of our Lord thus.

— feriaM siDeia Venice. MDVI.

The Acrostic and the Chronogram are belli ingeniously described
in the mock Epic of the Scribleriad. The initial letters of the
acrostics are thus alluded to in the literary wars : t—

Firm and compact, iu three fair columns wove,
O'er the smooth plain, the bold acrostics move:
High o'er the rest, the tovvkring leaders rise
With limbs gigantic , and superior size.

lUU the looser character of the c/iro/tograni, and the disorder
in which they arc found, arc ingeniously sung thus : —

LITEKARY FOLLIES. 2 49

Not thus tbc looser chronograms prepare.
Careless their troops, uudisciplined to war';
^V'ith rank irregular, confused they stand ,
The CHIEFTAINS MINGLING with the vulgar band.

He afterwards adds others of the illegitimate race of wit : —

To join these squadrons , o'er the champaign came
A numerous race of no ignoble name ;
RiiUle and Rebus , Riddle's dearest sou,
And Jlilse Conundrum and insidious Pun.

Fustian, wlio scarcely deigns to tread the ground.
And Rondeau, wheeling in repeated round.

On their fair standards, by the wind display'd.
Eggs, altars, wings, pipes, axes, were pourtray'd.

1 find the ov'i^in oi Bouts-rimes , or "Rhyming Ends," in
Goujel's Bib. Fr. xvi. p. 181. One Dulot, a foolish poet, when
sonnets were in demand , had a singular custom of preparing the
rhymes of these poems to be filled up at his leisure. Having been
robbed of his papers , he was regretting most the loss of three
hundred sonnets : his friends were astonished that he had written
so many which (hey had never heard. " They were blank sonnets ,''
he replied ^ and explained the mystery by describing his Bouts-
rimes. The idea appeared ridiculously amusing,- and it soon became
fashionable to collect the most diflicult rhymes, and fill up the
lines.

The Charade is of recent birth , and I cannot discover the origin
of this species of logogriphes. It was not known in France so late as
in 1771 ^ in the great Dictionnaire de Trevoux, the term appears
only as the name of an Indian sect of a military character. Its
mystical conceits have occasionally displayed singular felicity.

Anagrams were another whimsical invention ; with the letters
of any name they contrived to make out some entire word, descrip-
tive of the character of the person who bore the name. These
anagrams, therefore, were either satirical or comphmentary. When
in fashion , lovers made use of them continually : I have read of
one , whose mistress's name was Magdalen , for whom he compos-
ed, not only an Epic under that name , but as a proof of his passion,
one day he sent her three dozen of anagrams all on her lovely
name. Scioppius imagined himself fortunate that his adversary
Scaliger was perfecly Sacrilege in all the oblique cases of the
Latin language ; on this principle Sir John JFiat w as made out ,
to his own satisfaction — a wit. They were not always correct when
a great compliment was required ; (he poet John Cleveland was
strained hard to make Heliconian dew. This literary trifle has ,

250 LITERARY FOLLIES.

however, in our own times , produced several , equally ingenious
and caustic.

Verses of grotesque shapes have sometimes been contrived to
convey ingenious thoughts. Pannard, a modern French poet, has
tortured his agreeable vein of poetry into such forms. He has made
some of his Bacchanalian songs take the figure of bottles , and others
of glasses. These objects are perfectly drawn by the various measures
of the verses which form the songs. He has also introduced an echo
in his verses which he contrives so as not to injure their sense. This
was practised by the old French bards in the age of Marot , and this
poetical whim is ridiculed by Butler in his Hudibras, Part I. Canto 3.
Verse 190. 1 give an ex mple of these poetical echoes. The follow-
ing ones are ingenious , lively , and satirical : —

Pour nous plaire , uu pluiuet

Met

Tout ea usage :

Mais on trouve souvent

Fent

Dans son langage.

On y voit des Qoramis

Mis

Comme des princes,

Apres etre venus

Nuds

De leurs Provinces.

The poetical whim of Cretin , a French poet, brought into fashion
punning or equivocal rhymes. Maret thus addressed him in his own
way : —

L'liomme, sotart, et non scc'.vant
Comme un Rotisseur, qui lave oye.
La faute d'autrui, nonce avant
Qu'il la cognoisse, ou qa'il la voj-e, etc.

In these lines of Du Bartas , this poet imagined that he imitated
the harmonious notes of the lark : " the sound" is here, however^
not " an echo to the sense."

La gentille aloiiette, avec sou tirelire,
Tirelire, a lire, ct tireliran tire,
Vers la voute du cicl , puis son vol vers ce lieu,
Vireet desire dire adieu Dieu, adieu Dieu.

The French have an ingenious kind of Nonsense Verses called
Amphigourie . This word is composed of a Greek adverb signifying
about ,im(X of a substantive signifying a circle. The following is a
specimen, elegant in the selection of words , and what the French

LITERARY FOLLIES. 251

called richly rhymed, but in fact they are fine verses without any
meaning whatever. Pope's Stanzas, said to be written by a person
of quality, to ridicule the tuneful nonsense of certain bards, and
which Gilbert Wakefield mistook for a serious composition , and
wrote two pages of Commentary to prove this song was disjointed,
obscure , and absurd , is an excellent specimen of these Amphi-
gouries.

AMFHIGOURIE.

Qu'il est lieureux de se defendre
Quand le coeur ije s'est pas rendu !
Mais qu'il est facbeus de se rendre
Quaud le bonlieur est suspendu !
Par un discours saus suite et tendre ,
Egarez un coeur eperdu ;
Souvent par un mal-entendu
L'amant adroit se fait entendre.

IMITATED.

How happy to defend our heart.
When Love has never thrown a dart !
But ah ! unhappy when it bends,
If pleasure her soft bliss suspends !
Sweet in a wild disordered strain,
A lost and wandering heart to gain !
Oft in mistaken language •wooed
The skilful lover's understood.

These verses have such a resemblance to meaning, that Fontenelle
having listened to the song imagined that he had a gUmpse of sense,
and requested to have it repeated. "■ Don't you perceive," said
IMadame de Tencin , "that they are Nonsense Verses?"' The ma-
licious wit retorted, " They are so much like the fine verses I have
heard here, that it is not surprising I should be for once mistaken."

In the "^ Scribleriad" w^e find a good account of the Cento. A
Cento primarily signifies a cloak made of patches. In poetry it
denotes a work wholly composed of verses , or passages promis-
cuously taken from other authors , only disposed in a new form or
order, so as to compose a new work and a new meaning. Ausonius
has laid down the rules to be observed in composing Centos. The
pieces may be taken either from the same poet , or from several ^
and the verses may be either taken entire , or divided into two ; one
half to be connected with another half taken elsewhere; but two
verses are never to be taken together. Agreeable to these rules ho
has made a pleasant nuptial Cejito from Yirgil.

The Empress Eudoxia wrote the life of Jesus Christ in centos
taken from Homer-, Proba Falconia from Yirgil. Among these grave
triflersmay be mentioned Alex nder Ross , who published " Virgi-

252 LITERARY FOLLIES.

lius Evangelizans , sive Historia Domini et Salvatoris nosiri .Tesu
Cbrisli Virgilianis verbis et versibus descripta." It was iej)ublishcd
In 1769.

A more difficult whim is that of "■ Reciprocal Verses,'" which
give the same words whetlier read backwards or forwards. The
following hnes by Sidonius Apollinaris were once infinitely admired ;

" Signa te signa temere me tangis et angis."
" Romn tibi subito motibus ibit amoi-.'"

The reader has only to lake the pains of reading the lines backwards,
and he will find himself just where he was after all his fatigue.

Capitaine Lasphrise , a French self-taught poet , boasts of his
inventions ; among other singularities, one has at least the merit of
la difjicnlte vaincue. He asserts this novelty to be entirely his own \
the last word of every verse forms the first word of the following
verse :

Falloit-il que le del me rendit amoureux,
Amoureux, joiiissant d'une beaute craiutive,
Craintive a recevoir la douceur excessive,
Excessive an plaisir qui rend ramant beurcux;
Heurcux si nous avions quelques paisihles lieux,
Lieux oil plus surement Tami fidele arrive.
Arrive sans soupcon de quelque anie attentive ,
Attentive a vouloir nous surprendre tous deux. —

Francis Colonna , an Italian Monk , is the author of a singular
book entitled " The dream of PoHphilus ," in which he relates his
amours with a lady of the name of Polia. It was considered improper
to prefix his name to the work ; but being desirous of marking it by
some peculiarity, that he might claim it at any distant day, he contriv-
ed that the initial letters of every chapter should be formed of those
of his name , and of the subject he treats. This strange invention
was not discovered till many years afterwards : when the wits em-
ployed themselves in deciphering it, unfortunately it became a
source of hterary altercation , being susceptible of various readings.
The correct appears thus : Poliam Frater Franciscus Columna
PKrxAMAviT. "Brother Francis Colonna passionately loved Polia.'
This gallant monk , like another Petrarch , made the name of his
mistress the subject of his amatorial meditations •, and as the first
called his Laura , his Laurel , this called Viis Polia , his Polita.

A few years afterwards Marccllus Palingenius Stellatus employed
:i similar artifice in his Zouiacus Yn\i', , " The Zodiac of Life;"
the initial letters of tiie first twenty-nine verses of the first book of
this poem forming his name , which curious |)articular was probably
imknown to Warton in his account of this work.— The performance

LITF.RAR\ rOLLIKS 253

is divided inlo Iwelve books , but has no reference lo astronomy,
>vhich we might naturally expect. He distinguished his twelve books
by the twelve names of the celestial signs , and probably extended
or confined them purposely to that number, to humour his fancy.
Warton however observes, " this strange pedantic title is not totally
without a conceit, as the author was born at Stellada or Stellata,
a province of Ferrara , and from whence he called himself IMar-
ccllus Palingenius Stellatus." The work itself is a curious satire on
the Pope and the Church of Rome. It occasioned Bayle to commit
a remarkable literary blunder, which I shall record in its place.
Of Italian conceit in those times, ofwhichPetrach was the father,
with his perpetual play on words and on his Laurel , or his mistress
Laura , he has himself afforded a remarkable example. Our poet
lost his mother, who died in her thirty-eighth year : he has comme-
morated her death by a sonnet composed of thirty-eight lines. He
seems to have conceived that the exactness of the number was
equally natural and lender.

Are we not to class among literary Jollies the strange researches
which writers , even of the present day, have made in Antedilmnan
times? Forgeries of the grossest nature have been alluded to, or
quoted as authorities. A book of Ejioc/ixynce attracted considerable
attention; this curious forgery has been recently translated : the
Sabeans pretend they possess a work written by Adam! and this
work has been recently appealed to in favour of a visionary theory I
Astle gravely observes , that "with respect to Writings dXiv'ihniidA
to the Antedihwians , it seems not only decent but rational to say
that we know nothing concerning them." Without alluding to living
writers. Dr. Parsons, in his erudite "• Remains of Japhet," tracing
the origin of the alphabetical character, supposes that letters were
known to Adam ! Some too have noticed astronomical libraries in
the Ark of Noah ! Such historical memorials are the deliriums of
learning, or are founded on forgeries.

Hugh Broughton , a writer of controversy in the reign of James
the First , shows us in a tedious discussion on Scripture chronology,
that Rahab was a harlot at ten years of age; and enters into many
grave discussions concerning the colour of Aaron's Ephod , and the
language which Eve first spoke. This writer is ridiculed in Ren
Jonson's Comedies : — «-he is not without rivals even in the present
day ! Covarruvias , after others of his school , discovers that when
male children are born they cry out with an A , being the first vowel
of the word Adam , while the female infants prefer the letter E , in
allusion to Ei'e ,• and we may add that , by the pinch of a negligent
nurse, they may probably learn all their vowels. Of the pedantic
triflings of commentators . a controversy among the Portuguese on

254 LITERARY FOLLIES.

the works of Camoens is not the least. Some of these profound critics
who affected great delicacy in the laws of Epic poetry, pretended to
be doubtful whether the poet had fixed on the right time for a
king's dream-, whether, said Ihey, as king should have a propitious
dream on \v\?,fiist going to bed or at the dawn of the following
morning? No one seemed to be quite certain ; they puzzled each
other till the controversy closed in this fehcitous manner, and satis-
fied both the night and the dawn critics. Barreto discovered that an
accent on one of the words alluded to in the controversy would
answer the purpose , and by making king Manuel's dream to take
place at the dawn would restore Camoens to their good opinion , and
preserve the dignity of the poet.

Chevreau begins his History of the World in these words : "Se-
veral learned men have examined in what season God created the
world , though there could hardly be any season then , since there
was no sun , no moon , nor stars. But as the world must have been
created in one of the four seasons , this question has exercised the
talents of the most curious, and opinions are various. Some say it
was in the month of Nisan , that is , in the spring : others maintain
that it was in the month of Tisri, which begins the civil year of the
Jews , and that it was on the sixth day of this month , which an-
swers to our September, that Adam and Eve were created , and
that it was on a Friday, a little after four o'clock in the afternoon ! "
This is according to the Rabbinical notion of the eve of the sab-
bath.

The Irish antiquaries mention public libraries that were before
the flood; and Paul Christian Ilsker, with profounder erudition, has
given an exact catalogue of Adam's. Messieurs O'Flaherty, O'Con-
nor , and O'Halloran , have most gravely recorded as authentic nar-
rations the wildest legendary traditions ; and more recently, to make
confusion doubly confounded , others have built up what they call
theoretical histories on these nursery tales. By which species of black
art they contrive to prove that an Irishman is an Indian , and a
Peruvian may be a Welshman , from certain emigrations which took
place many centuries before Christ , and some about two centuries
after the flood ! Keating , in his " History of Ireland ," Starts a fa-
vourite hero in the giant Parlholanus, who was descended from
Japhet, and landed on the coast of Munsler'14th May, in the year
of the world 1987. This giant succeeded in his enterprise , but a do-
mestic misfortune attended him among his Irish friends : — his wife
exj)osed him to their laughter by her loose behaviour, and provo-
ked him to such a dogre(^ that he killed two favourite greyhounds ;
and this the learned historian assures us was i\\t first instance of
female infidelity ever known in Ireland !

LITERARY FOLLIES. 255

The learned , not contented with Homer's poetical preeminence ,
make him the most authentic historian and most accurate geogra-
pher of antiquity, besides endowing him with all the arts and scien-
ces to be found in our Encyclopaedia. Even in surgery a treatise ha&
been written to show by the variety of the wounds of his heroes ,
that he was a most scientific anatomist; and a military scholar has
lately told us that from him is derived all the science of the modern
adjutant and quarter-master general ; all the knowledge of tactics
which we now possess ; and that Xenophon , Epaminondas , Philip ,
and Alexander, owed all their warlike reputation to Homer !

To return to pleasanter follies. Des Fontaines , the journalist, who
had wit and malice, inserted the fragment of a letter which the poet
Rousseau wrote to the younger Racine whilst he was at the Hague.
These were the words : '• I enjoy the conversation within these few
days of my associates in Parnassus. Mr. Piron is an excellent anti-
dote against melancholy; but" — etc. Des Fontaines maliciously
stopped at this but. In the letter of Rousseau it was , " but unfortu-
nately he departs soon." Piron was very sensibly affected at this equi-
vocal but, and resolved to revenge himself by composing one hun-
dred epigrams against the malignant critic. He had written sixty
before Des Fontaines died : but of these only two attracted any
notice.

Towards the conclusion of the fifteenth century, Antonio Corne-
zano wrote a hundred different sonnets on one subject ; " the eyes of
his mistress ! " to which possibly Shakspeare may allude , when Ja-
ques describes a lover, with his

" Woeful ballad,
Made to liis mistress' eyebrow."

Not inferior to this ingenious trifler is Nicholas Franco , well known
in Italian literature , who employed himself in writing two hundred
and eighteen satiric sonnets, chiefly on the famous Peter Aretin.
This lampooner had the honour of being hanged at Piome for his
defamatory publications. In the same class are to be placed two other
writers. Brebeuf , who wrote one hundred and fifty epigrams against
a painted lady. Another wit, desirous of emulating him , and for a
literary bravado , continued the same subject , and pointed at this^
unfortunate fair three hundred more , without once repeating the
thoughts of Brebeuf! There is a collection of poems called ''Z«
PUCE des grajids jours de Poitiers.'" " The flea of the carnival
of Poictiers." These poems were all written by the learned Pasquier
upon a FLEA which he found one morning in the bosom of the famous
Catherine des Roches !
Not long ago , a Mr. and Mrs. Bilderdik , in Flanders , published

356 LITERARY FOLLIES.

poems under the wliimsical title of " While and Red." — His own
poems were called white , from the colour of his hair ; and those of
his lady red, in allusion to the colour of the rose. The idea must be
Flemish !

Gildon , in his " Laws of Poetry," commenting on this line of the
Duke of Buckingham's " Essay on Poetry,"

" Nature's cliief master-piece is writing well :"

very profoundly informs his readers "That what is here said has
not the least regard to the penmanship , that is , to the fairness or
badness of the hand-writing ," and proceeds throughout a whole
page, with a panegyric on ?i fine hand-writing ! The stupidity of
dullness seems to have at times great claims to originality !

Littleton , the author of the Latin and English Dictionary, seems
to have indulged his favourite propensity to punning so far as even
to introduce a pun in the grave and elaborate work of a Lexicon. A
story has been raised to account for it, and it has been ascribed to the
impatient interjection of the lexicographer to his scribe, who taking
no offence at the peevishness of his master, put it down in the Dic-
tionary. The article alluded to is , " Concurro , to run with others ;
to run together \ to come together j to fall foul on one another \, to
CoN-ciw, to Co^-dog.'"

Mr. Todd, in his Dictionary, has laboured to show the " inaccu-
racy of this pretended narrative." Yet a similar blunder appears to
have happened to Ash. Johnson , while composing his Dictionary,
sent a note to the Gentleman's Magazine to inquire the etymology of
the word curmudgeon. Having obtained the information, he records
in his work the obligation to an anonymous letter-writer. " Curmud-
geon , a vitious way of pronouncing cceur mechant. An unknown
correspondent." Ash copied the word into his dictionary in this
manner : " Curmudgeon : from the French coiur, unknown ; and me-
cliant, a correspondent." This singular negligence ought to be pla-
ced in the class of our literary blunders : these form a pair of lexi-
cographical anecdotes.

Two singular literary follies have been practised on Milton. There
is a prose version of his "Paradise Lost ," which was innocently
translatedh'om the French version of his Epic ! One Green publish-
ed a specimen of a new version of the " Paradise Lost " into blank
'verse ! For this purpose he has utterly ruined the harmony of Mil-
Ion's cadences, by what he conceived to be "bringing that amazing
work somewhat nearer the summit of perfection.''''

A j'lench author, when his book Jiad becMi received by the French
Academy, liad llio porlrait of Cardinal Richelieu engraved on his

LIXEKARY FOLLIES. 2i7

Ullc-pagc , cncircleil by a crown of /o/f-r rays , in each of which was
wrillen Ihe name of Ihe celebraled/b/T/ academicians.

The self-exullalions of aulhors, frequently employed by injudi-
cious writers , place them in ridiculous altitudes. A writer of a
bad dictionary, which he intended for a Cyclopajdia , formed sucii
an opinion of its extensive sale , that he put on tlie title-page the
words '■'first edition ,'' a hint to the gentle reader that it would
not be the last. Desmarest was so diligliled with his "Clovis,'
an Epic Poem , that he solemnly concludes his preface with a
thanksgiving to God , to whom he attributes all its glory I This is
like that conceited member of a French parliament, who was
overheard, after his tedious harangue, muttering most devoutly to
himself, " ]\o7i nobis DomineS'

Several works have been produced from some odd coincidence with
the name of their authors. Thus, De Saussay has written a folio
volume , consisting of panegyrics of persons of eminence , whose
christian names \\ere Andrew ,• because y^ndrew was his own name.
Two Jesuits made ajSimilar collection of illustrious men whose chris-
tian names were Theop/iilus and Philip , being their own. An-
thony Sanderus has also composed a treatise of illustrious Antho-
niesl And we have one Buchanan , who has written the lives of
those persons who were so fortunate as to have been his namesakes.
Several forgotten writers have frequently been intruded on the
public eye , merely through such trifling coincidences as being
members of some particular society, or natives of some particular
country. Cordeliers have stood forward to revive the writings of
Duns Scotus , because he had been a Cordelier •, and a Jesuit com-
piled a folio on the antiquities of a province , merely from the cir-
cumstance that the founder of his order, Ignatius Loyola , had been
born there. Several of the classics are violently extolled above others,
merely from the accidental circumstance of their editors having col-
lected a vast number of notes , which they resolved to discharge on
the pui)lic. County histories have been frequently compiled, and
provincial w Titers have received a temporary existence , from the
accident of some obscure individual being an inhabitant of some
obscure town.

On such literary follies Malcbranche has made this refined obser-
vation. The critics , standing in some way connected with the au-
thor, their self-love inspires them , and abundantly furnishes eulo-
giums which the author never merited , that they may thus obliquely
reflect some praise on themselves. This is made so adroitly, so deli-
cately, and so concealed , that it is not perceived.

The following are strange inventions, originating in the wilful
bad taste of the authors. Otto Yemus, the master of Rubens , is

?58 LITERARY FOLLIES.

(he designer of Le Theatre moral de la Vic. liumaiue. In this
emblemalical history of human life, lie has taken his subjects from
Horace ^ but certainly his conceptions are not lloralian. He takes
every image in a literal sense. If Horace says , '■'■Misce stultitiani
coNSiLiis BREVEM ," behold, Venius takes brevis personally, and
represents folly as a little short child! of not above three or four
years old! In the emblem which answers Horace's "7?«7oanZece-
dentein scclestmn deseruit PEDE POENA CLAUDO , we find Punish-
ment with a wooden leg. — And for " PULVis et umbra sumus,"
we have a dark burying vault, with dust sprinkled about the floor,
and a shadow walking upright between two ranges of urns. For
'"'■Virtus est intiuin fugere , et sapientia prima stultitid ca-
jiiisse ,''' most flatly he gives seven or eight Vices pursuing Virtue,
and Folly just at the heels of Wisdorii. I saw in an English Bible
printed in Holland an instance of the same taste : the artist , to il-
lustrate " Thou seest the mote in thy neighbour's eye, but not the
beam in thine own ," has actually placed an immense beam which
projects from the eye of the caviller to the ground !

As a contrast to the too obvious taste of Venius , may be placed
Cesare di Ripa , who is the author of an Italian work , translated into
most European languages , the Iconologia; the favourite book of
the age, and the fertile parent of the most absurd offspring which
Taste has known. Ripa Is as darkly subtile as Venius is obvious ;
and as far-fetched in his conceits as the other is literal. Ripa repre-
sents Beauty by a naked lady, with her head in a cloud ; because the
true idea of beauty is hard to be conceived ! Flattery, by a lady
vvith a flute in her hand, and a stag at her feet, because stags are
said to love music so much , that they suffer themselves to be taken ,
if you play to them on a flute. Fraud , with two hearts in one hand ,
and a mask in the other : — his collection is too numerous to point
out more instances. Ripa also describes how the allegorical figures
are to be coloured ; Hope is to have a sky-blue robe , because she
always looks towards heaven. Enough of these capriccios!

LITERARY CONTROVERSY.

In the preceding article Milton , I had occasion to give some
strictures on the asperity of literary controversy, drawn from his
own and Salinasius's writings. If to some the subject has appeared
<'\(eplionable, to ine, I confess, it seems useful, and I shall there-
fore add some otiier particulars ; for this topic has many branches.
Of the following specimens the grossness and malignity are extreme ;
y(!t they were employed by Ihe first scholars in Europe.

Martin Luther was not deslilule of genius, of learning , or of elo-

LITERARY CONTROVERSV. 259

quencc ; but his violoncc disfigured his works wilh singularities of
abuse. The great reformer of superstition had himself all the vulgar
ones of his day 5 he believed that flies were devils ; and that he had
had a buffeting with Satan , when his left ear Cell the prodigious beat-
ing. Hear him express himself on the Catholic divines : ''The Pa-
pists are all asses, and will always remain asses. Put them in what-
ever sauce you choose , boiled , roasted , baked , fried , skinned ,
beat, hashed , they are always the same asses."

Gentle and moderate , compared with a salute to his Holiness. —
''The Pope was born out of the Devil's posteriors. He is full of
devils , lies , blasphemies , and idolatries ^ he is anti-Chrisl •, the
robber of churches ^ the ravisher of virgins ; the greatest of pimps ^
the governor of Sodom, etc. If the Turk lay hold of us, then wc
shall be in the hands of the Devil ^ but if we remain with the Pope,
we shall be in hell. — What a pleasing sight would it be to see the
Pope and the Cardinals hanging on one gallows in exact order, like
the seals which dangle from the bulls of the Pope I What an excellent
council would they hold under the gallows I "

Sometimes , desirous of catching the attention of the vulgar, Lu-
ther attempts to enliven his style by the grossest buffooneries : "Take
care, my little Popa I my little ass ! go on slowly : the times are slip-
pery : this year is dangerous : if thou faliest , they will exclaim , See I
how our little Pope is spoilt I " It was fortunate for the cause of the
Pieformation that the violence of Luther was softened in a conside-
rable degree by the meek Melancthon , who often poured honey on
the sting inflicted by the angry wasp. Luther was no respecter of
kings ; he was so fortunate , indeed , as to find among his antagonists
a crowned head ; a great good fortune for an obscure controversia-
list, and the very punctum saliens of controversy. Our Henry VIII.
wrote his book against the new doctrine : then warm from scholastic
studies , Henry presented Leo X. with a work highly creditable to
his abilities , according to the genius of the age. Collier, in his Ec-
clesiastical History, has analysed the book , and does not ill describe
its spirit : " Henry seems superior to his adversary in the vigour and
propriety of his style , in the force of his reasoning , and the learning
of his citations. It is true he leans too much upon his character,
argues in his garter-robes , and writes as 'twere with his scepter.''
Cut Luther in reply abandons his pen to all kinds of railing and
abuse. He addresses Henry YIII. in the following style : " It is hard
to say if folly can be more foolish , or stupidity more stupid , than is
the head of Henry. He has not attacked me with the heart of a king ,
but with the impudence of a knave. This rotten worm of the earth
having blasphemed the majesty of my king , I have a just right to
bespatter his English majesty with his own dirt and ordure. This

500 LITERARY CONTROVERSY.

Henry has lied." Some of his original expressions to our
Henry VIII. are these : " Slulta, ridicula, et verissim6 Henriciana
ct Thomistica sunt hsec — Regem Anglian Henricum istum plane
mentiri, etc. — Hoc agit inquiclus Satan , ut nos a Scripturis avocet
per sceleratos Henricos , etc." — He was repaid with capital and
interest ,by an anonymous reply, said to have been written by Sir
Tiiomas More, w ho concludes his arguments by leaving Luther in lan-
guage not necessary to translate : "• cum suis furiis et furoribus, cum
suis merdis et stercoribus cacantem cacalumque." Such were the
vigorous elegancies of a controversy on the Seven Sacraments I Long
after, the court of Rome had not lost the taste of these " bitter herbs,"
for in the bull of the canonisation of Ignatius Loyola in August ,
1 623, Luther is called monstrum teterrijnum et detestabilis pestis.

Calvin was less tolerable , for he had no Melancthon ! His adver-
saries are never others than knaves , lunatics , drunkards , and as-
sassins ! Sometimes they are characterised by the familiar appel-
latives of bulls, asses, cats, and hogs ! By him CathoHc and Lutheran
are aUkc hated. Yet, after having given vent to this virulent humour,
he frequently boasts of his mildness. When he reads over his writ-
ings , he tells us , that he is astonished at his forbearance ; but this ,
he adds , is the duty of every Christian I at the same time , he gene-
rally finishes a period with — " Do you hear, you dog ? " "Do you
hear, madman?"

Beza , the disciple of Calvin , sometimes imitates the luxuriant
abuse of his master. When he writes against Tilleman , a Lutheran
minister, he bestows on him the following titles of honour : "Po-
lyphemus •, an ape 5 a great ass who is distinguished from other asses
by wearing a hat ; an ass on two feet 5 a monster composed of part
of an ape and wild ass ; a villain who merits hanging on the first
tree we find." And Beza was , no doubt , desirous of the office of
executioner !

The Catliolic party is by no means inferior in the felicities of their
style. The .Tesuit Raynaud calls Erasmus the "Batavian buffoon ,"
and accuses him of nourishing the egg which Luther hatched. These
men were alike supposed by their friends to be the inspired regula-
tors of Religion !

liishop Bedell , a gicat and good man , respected even by his ad-
versaries , in an address to his clergy, observes , " Our caUing is to
deal with errors , not to disgrace the man with scolding words. It
is said of Alexander, I think, when he overheard one of his soldiers
railing lustily against Darius his enemy, that he reproved him, and
added, 'Friend, I entertain these to fight against Darius, not to
revile him-,' and my sentiments of treating the Catholics," con-
cludes IJedell, "are not conformable to the practice of Luther and

LITEBAKY COJNTROVEHSY. 201

Calvin ; but they wcro but men , and perhaps we must confess they
suffered themselves to yield to the violence of passion."

The Fathers of the churcli were proficients in llie art of abuse ,
and very ingeniously defended it. St. Austin alhrms that the most
caustic personality may produce a wonderful etlect , in opening a
man's eyes to his own follies. He illustrates his position with a story,
given with great simplicity, of his mother Saint Monica with her
maid. Saint Monica certainly would have been a confirmed drunk-
ard , had not her maid timely and outrageously abused her. The
story will amuse. — " My mother had by little and little accustomed
herself to relish wine. They used to send her to the cellar, as being
one of the soberest in the family : she first sipjx^d from the jug and
tasted a few drops, for she abhorred wine, and did not care to drink.
However, she gradually accustomed herself, and from sipping it on
her lips she swallowed a draught. As people from the smallest faults
insensibly increase , she at lengh liked wine , and drank bumpers.
Rut one day being alone with the maid who usually attended her to
tlie cellar, they quarrelled, and the maid bitterly reproached her with
being a drunkard! That single word struck her so poignantly
that it opened her understanding ; and reflecting on the deformity
of the vice , she desisted for ever from its use."

To jeer and play the droll , or, in his ow n words , de houfon-
ner, was a mode of controversy the great Arnauld defended as per-
mitted by the writings of the holy fathers. It is still more singular,
when he not only brings forward as an example of this ribaldry, Eli-
jah mocking at the false divinities , but God himscM bantering the
first man after his fall. He justifies the injurious epithets which he
has so liberally bestow ed on his adversaries by the example of Jesus
Christ and the apostles ! It was on these grounds also that the cele-
brated Pascal apologised for the invectives with which he has occa-
sionally disfigured his Provincial Letters. A Jesuit has collected " An
Alphabetical Catalogue of the Names o{ Beasts by which the Fathers
characterised the Heretics ! " It may be found in Erotemata de
malis ac bonis Libris , p. 93 , 4to. 1653 , of Father Raynaud. This
list of brutes and insects, among which are a vast variety of serpents,
is accompanied by the names of the lieretics designated!

Henry Filzscrmon , an Irish Jesuit , was imprisoned for his pa-
pistical designs and seditious preaching. During his confinement he
proved himself to be a great amateur of controversy. He said, " he
felt like a bear lied to a stake , and wanted somebody to bail him."
A kind office , zealously undertaken by the learned Usher, then a
young man. He engaged to dispute with him once a week on the
subject i\{ antichrist! They met several times. It appears that our
bear was out-worried , and declined any further dog-bailing. This

2C2 LITERARY CONTROVERSY.

spread an universal joy through the Protestants in Dublin. At Ih^
early period of the Reformation , Dr. Smith of Oxford abjured pa-
pistry, with the hope of retaining his professorship , but it was
given to Peter Martyr. On this our Doctor recants , and wrote se-
veral controversial works against Peter Martyr ; the most curious
part of which is the singular mode adopted of attacking others , as
well as Peter Martyr. In his margin he frequently breaks out, thus :
" Let Hoper read this ! " — "• Here Ponet open your eyes and see
your errors!" — " Ergo Cox, thou art damned!" In this manner,
without expressly writing against these persons , the stirring po-
lemic contrived to keep up a sharp bush-fighting in his margins.
Such was the spirit of those times, very different from our own.
When a modern bishop was just advanced to a mitre, his bookseller
begged to re-publish a popular theological tract of his against ano-
ther bishop , because he might now meet him on equal terms. My
lord answered — " Mr. '*'** no more controversy now!" Our good
bishop resembled Baldwin , who , from a simple monk , arrived to
the honour of the see of Canterbury. The successive honours suc-
cessively changed his manner. Urban the Second inscribed his brief
to him in this concise description — Balduino Monastico feiven-
tissimo , Abbate calido , Episcopo tepido , Archiepiscopo re-
misso !

On the subject of literary controversies we cannot pass over the
various sects of the scholastics : a volume might be compiled of
their ferocious wars , which in more than one instance were accom-
panied by stones and daggers. The most memorable , on account of
the extent , the violence , and duration of their contests, are those of
the Nominalists and the Realists.

It was a most subtle question assuredly, and the world thought for
a long while that their happiness depended on deciding , whether
universals , that is genera, liave a real essence, and exist indepen-
dent of particulars , that is species: — whether, for instance, we
could form an idea of asses , prior to individual asses ? Rosseline, in
the eleventh century, adopted the opinion that universals have no
real existence , either before , or in individuals , but are mere names
and words by which the kinds of individuals is expressed ; a tenet
propagated by vVbelard, which produced the sect of the Nonuiialists.
Rut tlie Realists asserted that universals existed independent of in-
dividuals,— thougii they were somewhat divided between the various
opinions of Plato and Arislolle. Of the Realists th(^ most famous were
Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus. The cause of tlie Nominalists was
almost desperate, till Occam in the fourteenth century revived the
dying ernbers. Louis XL adopted the Nominalists , and the Noinina-
lists llouiibhed at large in France andtjcimanj ; but unfortunately

LITERARY COJNTROVERSY. 2G3

Pope John XXIII. palroiiised llic K(>:ilisls, and (hioujilioul llaly it
was dangerous for a Noniinalisl lo open his li|).s. The French king
wavered , and Uie Pope triumphed ; his majesty pubhshed an edict
in 1474 , in wiiich he silenced for ever tlie Nominalists, and ordered
Iheir books lo be fastened uj) in their libraries w ilh iron chains, that
lliey might not be read by young students ! The leadei-s of that sect
lied into England and Germany, where they united their forces with
Lullier and the first Reformers.

NoUiing could exceed the violence with which these disputes were
conducted. Yives himself, who witnessed the contests , says that,
"'• when the contending parties had exhausted their stock of verbal
abuse , they often came to blows ^ and it was not uncommon in these
quarrels about universals , to see the combatants engaging not only
with their fists , but w ith clubs and sw ords , so that many have been
wounded and some killed."

On this war of words and all this terrifying nonsense John of Sa-
lisbury observes, "• that there had been more time consumed than
the Caesars had employed in making themselves masters of tlie world 5
that the riches of Cra3sus were inferior to the treasures that had been
exhausted in this controversy ; and that the contending parties, after
having spent their whole lives in this single point, had neither been
so happy as to determine it lo their satisfaction , nor to find in the
labyrinths of science where they had been groping any discovery
thai was worth the pains they had taken." It may be added that Ra-
nms having attacked Aristotle , for "' teaching us chimeras ," all his
scholars revolted ; the parliament put a stop to his lectures , and at
length having brouglU the mailer into a law court, he was declared
'Mo be insolent and daring" — the king proscribed his works, he
was ridiculed on the stage, and hissed at by his scholars. When at
length , during the plague , he opened again his schools, he drew on
himself a fresh storm by reforming the pronunciation of the letter Q,
which Ihey then pronounced like R — Kiskis for Quisquis, and Kam-
kam for Quamquam. This innovation was once more laid to his
charge : a new rebellion I and a new ejection of the Anti-Aristotelian!
The brother of that Gabriel Harvey who was the friend of Spenser,
and with Gabriel had been the whetstone of the tow n-wits of his time,
distinguished himself fay his wrath against the Stagyrile. After hav-
ing with Gafariel predicted an earthquake , and alarmed the king-
dom , which never took place (that is the earthquake, not the alarm;,
the wits buffeted him. Nash says of him, that " Tarlton at the theatre
made jests of him, and Elderton consumed his ale-cranmied nose to
nothing, in bear-baiting him with whole bundles of ballads." Mar-
low declared him to be '•'• an ass fit only lo preach of the iron age.
Stung to madness by this lively nest of hornets , he avenged himself

3(ii LITERARY COINTROVERSY.

in a very cowardly manner — he attacked Aristotle himself I for he sef
Aristotle with his heels upwards on the school gates at Cambridge,
and with asses' ears on his head I

But this controversy concerning Aristotle and this school divinity
was even prolonged. A professor in the College at Naples , published
in 1688 four volumes of peripatetic philosophy, to establish the prin-
ciples of Aristotle. The work was exploded , and he wrote an abusive
treatise under the Nom de guerre of Benedetto Alelino. A man of
letters, Constantino Grimaldi , replied. Aletino rejoined, he wrote
letters , an apology for the letters , and would have written more for
Aristotle than Aristotle himself perhaps would have done. However,
Grimaldi was no ordinary antagonist, and not to be outwearied. He
had not only the best of the argument , but he was resolved to tell
the world so, as long as the world would hsten. Whether he killed
off Father Benedictis, the first author, is not aiTirmed; but the
latter died during the controversy. Grimaldi , however, afterwards
pursued his ghost, and buffeted the father in his grave. This enraged
the University of Naples ; and the .Tesuils , to a man, denounced Gri-
maldi to Pope Benedict XIII. and to the viceroy of Naples. On this
the Pope issued a bull prohibiting the reading of Grimaldi's works,
or keeping them , under pain of excommunication, and the viceroy,
more active than the bull , caused all the copies which were found
in the author's house to be thrown into the sea! The author with
tears in his eyes beheld his expatriated volumes , hopeless that their
voyage would have been successful. However, all the little family of
the Grimaldis were not drowned — for a storm arose, and happily
drove ashore many of the floating copies, and these falling into cha-
ritable hands, the heretical opinions of poor Grimaldi against Aris-
totle and school divinity were still read by those who were not out-
lerrified by the Pope's bulls. The salted passages were still at hand,
and quoted with a double zest against the Jesuits !

We now turn to writers whose controversy was kindled only by
subjects of polite literature. Tlie particulars form a curious picture
of the taste of the age.

" There is ," says Joseph Scaliger, that great critic and reviler,
" an art of abuse or slandering, of which those that are ignorant
may be said to defame others much less than they show a willingness
to defame."

" Literary wars," says Bayle , " arc sometimes as lasting as they
are terrible." A disputation between two great scholars was so inter-
minably violent, that it lasted thirty years ! lie humorously compares
its duration to the German war which lasted as long.

I^aillet , when he refuted the sentiments of a certain author, always
did it without naming him 5 but when he found any observation

LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 265

which he deemed commendable, he quoled his name. Bayie ob-
serves, thai " this is an excess of politeness, prejudicial to that
freedom which should ever exist in the republic of letters ^ lliat it
should be allowed always to name those whom we refute •, and that
it is sufficient for this purpose that we banish asperity, malice , and
indecency."

After these preliminary observations, I shall bring forward
various examples where this excellent advice is by no means re-
{:!;arded.

Erasmus produced a dialogue, in which he ridiculed those scho-
lars who were servile imitators of Cicero; so servile, that tliey
would employ no expression but what was found in the works of
that writer; every thing with them was Ciceronianised. This dia-
logue is written with great humour. Julius Caesar Scaliger, the fa-
ther, who was then unknown to the world, had beenjlong looking for
some occasion to distinguish himself; he now wrote a defence of Ci-
cero, but which in fact was one continued invective against Erasmus :
he there treats the latter as illiterate, a drunkard, an impostor, an
apostate , a hangman , a demon hot from hell ! The same Scaliger,
acting on the same principle of distinguishing himself at the cost of
others, attacked Cardan's best work De Subtilitate : his criticism
did not appear till seven years after the first edition of the work ,
and then he obstinately stuck to that edition , though Cardan had
corrected it in subsequent ones ; but this Scaliger chose , that he
might have a wider field for his attack. After this, a rumour spread
that Cardan had died of vexation from our Julius Caesar's invincible
pen ; then Scaliger pretended to feel all the regret possible for a man
he had killed , and whom he now praised : however, his regret had
as little foundation as his triumph; for Cardan outlived Scaliger
many years , and valued his criticisms too cheaply to have suffered
them to have disturbed his quiet. All this does not exceed the In-
vectives of Poggius , who has thus entitled several literary libels
composed against some of his adversaries, Laurentius Valla, Philel-
phus, etc., who returned the poisoned chalice to his own lips;
declamations of scurrility, obscenity, and calumny !

Scioppius was a worthy successor of the Scaligers : his favourite
expression was, that he had trodden down his adversary.

Scioppius was a critic , as skilful as Salmasius or Scaliger, but
still more learned in the language of abuse. This cynic was the Al-
tila of authors. He boasted that he had occasioned the deaths of
Casaubon and Scaliger. Detested and dreaded as the public scourge,
Scioppius at the close of his life , was fearful h.e should find no
retreat in wlych he miglit be secure.

The great Casaubon employs the dialect of St. Giles's in his fu~

266 - LITERARY CONTROVERSY.

rious allacks on the learned Dalechamps , the Latin translator of
Athenseus. To this great physician he stood more deeply indebted
than he chose to confess; and to conceal the claims of tliis literary
creditor, he called out /^e.v«7??/7?i/ Insajiimi ! Tiresiani ! etc. It
was the fashion of that day with the ferocious heroes of the literary
republic , to overwhelm each other with invectives , and to consider
that their own grandeur consisted in the magnitude of their volumes ;
and their triumphs in reducing their brother giants into puny dwarfs.
In science , Linnaeus had a dread of controversy — conqueror or con-
quered we cannot escape without disgrace ! Mathiolus would have
been the great man of his day, had he not meddled with such mat-
ters. Who is gratified by "the mad Cornarus," or "the flayed
Fox?" titles which Fuchsius and Cornarus, two eminent botanists,
have bestowed on each other. Some who were too fond of contro-
versy, as they grew wiser, have refused to take up the gauntlet.

The heat and acrimony of verbal critics have exceeded descrip-
tion. Their stigmas and anathemas have been long known to bear no
proportion against the offences to which they have been directed.
"God confound you," cried one grammarian to another, "for
your theory of impersonal verbs ! " There was a long and terrible
controversy formerly, whether the Florentine dialect was to pre-
vail over the others. The academy was put to great trouble , and
the Anti-cruscans were often on the point of annulUng this supre-
macy ; una mordace scrittura was applied to one of these literary
canons •, and in a letter of those times the following paragraph ap-
pears : "Pescetti is preparing to give a second answer to Beni ,
which will not please him •, I now believe the prophecy of Cavalier
Tcdeschi will be verified, and that this controversy, begun wit!i
pens, will end with poniards ! "

Fabretti , an Italian , wrote furiously against Gronovius , whom
he calls Grimnovius : he compared him to all those animals whose
voice was expressed by the word Grunnire , to grunt. Gronovius
was so malevolent a critic, that he was distinguished by the title of
the "Grammatical Cur."

When critics venluic to attack the person as well as the perform-
ance of an author, I recommend the salutary proceedings of Hu-
bcrus, the writer of an esteemed Universal History. He had been
so roughly handled by Perizonius , that he obliged him to make the
amende honorable in a court of Justice; where, however, I fear
an English jury would give the smallest damages.

Certain autliors may be distinguished by the title of Liter arn
IJoBADiLS, or fighting authors. One of our own celebrated writers
drew liis sword on a reviewer ; and another, when his farce was
condemned, oHered to ligiil any one of the audience who hissed.

LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 2(57

Scudery, brother of Ihc celebrated Mademoiselle Scudery, was a
true Parnassian bully. The first publication which brought him into
notice was his edition of the w orks of his friend Theophilc. He con-
cludes the preface with these singular expressions — " I do not hesi-
tate to declare , that , amongst all the dead , and all the living , there
is no person who has any thing to show that approaches the force
of this vigorous genius •, but if amongst the latter, any one were
so extravagant as to consider that I detract from his imaginary glory,
to show him that I fear as little as I esteem him , this is to inform
him , that my name is

De Scudery."

A similar rhodomontade is that of Claude Trellon, a poetical
soldier, who begins his poems by challenging the critics •, assuring
them that if any one attempts to censure him , he will only con-
descend to answer sword in hand. Father Macedo , a Portuguese
Jesuit, having written against Cardinal Norris , on the monkery of
St. Austin , it was deemed necessary to silence both parties. Ma-
cedo, compelled to relinquish the pen, sent his adversary a chal-
lenge, and according to the laws of chivalry, appointed a place for
meeting in the wood of Boulogne. Another edict to forbid the
duel! Macedo then murmured at his hard fate, which would not
suffer him, for the sake of St. Austin, for whom* he had a par-
ticular regard , to spill neither his inh nor his blood.

Anti , prefixed to the name of the person attacked , was once a
favourite title to books of literary controversy. With a critical review
of such books Baillet has filled a quarto volume ; yet such w as the
abundant harvest, that he left considerable gleanings for posterior
industry.

Anti-Gronovius was a book published against Gronovius, by
Kuster. Perizonius , another pugilist of hlerature , entered into this
dispute on the subject of the Ms grave of the ancients , to which
Kuster had just adverted at the close of his volume. What was the
consequence ? Dreadful ! — Answers and rejoinders from both , in
which they bespattered each other w ith the foulest abuse. A journalist
pleasantly blames tliis acrimonious controversy. He says , '•'■ to read
the pamphlets of a Perizonius and a Kusler on the Ms grave of the
ancients , who would not renounce all commerce with antiquity? H
seems as If an Agam.emnon and an Achilles were raiUng at each
other. Who can refrain from laughter, when one of these commen-
tators even points his attacks at the very name of his adversary ?
According to Kuster, the name of Perizonius signifies a c<^/?«m part
of the human body. How is it possible, that with such a name he
could be right concerning the jEs grave? But does that of Kuster

-^08 LITERARY CONTROVERSY.

promise a better Ihinp: , since it signifies a beadle ; a man who drives
dogs out of churches? — Wlial madness is this ! "

Corneille , like our Dryden , felt the acrimony of literary irrita-
tion. To the critical strictures of D'Aubignac it is acknowledged he
paid the greatest attention , for, after this critic's Pratique da
Theatre appeared , his tragedies were more artfully conducted. But
instead of mentioning the critic with due praise, he preserved an
ungrateful silence. This occasioned a quarrel between the poet and
the critic , in which the former exhaled his bile in several abusive
epigrams , which have , fortunately for his credit , not been preserved
in his works.

The lively Voltaire could not resist the charm of abusing his ad-
versaries. We may smile \Vhen he calls a blockhead , a blockhead ;
a dotard , a dotard ; but when he attacks , for a difference of opinion,
the morals of another man, our sensibility is alarmed. A higher tri-
bunal than that of criticism is to decide on the actions of men.

There is a certain disguised malice, which some writers have most
unfairly) employed in characterising a contemporary. Burnet called
Prior, one Prior. In Bishop Parker's History of his own Times, an
innocent reader may start at seeing the celebrated Marvell described
as an outcast of society, an infamous libeller; and one whose talents
were even more despicable than his person. To such lengths did the
haired of party, united with personal rancour, carry this bishop ,
who was himself the worst of time-servers. He was, however, amply
repaid by the keen wit of Marvell in " The Rehearsal transposed ,"
which may still be read witli delight , as an admirable effusion of
banter, wit, and satire. Le Clerc , a cool ponderous Greek critic ,
(juarrelled with Bnileau about a passage in Longinus , and several
years afterwards, in revising Moreri's Dictionary, gave a short sar-
castic notice of the poet's brother in which he calls him the elder
brother of him who has wi'ittcn the book entitled '•'' Satires of
Mr. Boileaa D'Espreaux!''' — the works of the modern Horace ,
which were then delighting Europe, he calls, with simple impudence,
a book entitled Satires !

The works of Homer produced a controversy, both long and
virulent, amongst the wits of France. This literary quarrel is of some
note in the annals of literature , since it has produced two valuable
books; La Motto's " Rellexions sur la Critique," and Madame
Dacicr's "Des Causes de la Corruption du GovJt." La Motte wrote
with feminine delicacy , and Madame Dacier like an University
pedant. " At length by the eilorts of Valincour, the friend of art,
of artists, and of peace, the contest was terminated." Botli parties
wen^ formidable in number , and to each he made remonstrances ,
and applied reijroaches. LaMolle and Madame Dacier, the opposite

LITERARY I5LUNDERS. 2G»

loaders, were convinced by his argvunenls, made reciprocal conces-
sions, and concluded a peace. 1Mie Irealy was formally ratified at a
dinner , given on the occasion by a Madame Do Slael , who repre-
sented '^ Neutrality." Libations were poured to the memory of old
Homer, and the parties were reconciled.

LITERARY BLUNDERS.

When Dante published his " Inferno," thesimpUcily of the age
accepted it as a true narrative of his descent into hell.

When the Utopia of Sir Thomas More was first published , it
occasioned a pleasant mistake. This political romance represents a
perfect, but visionary republic, in an island supposed to have been
newly discovered in America. "As this was the age of discovery,"
says Granger, " the learned Budaeus , and others, took it for a
genuine history •, and considered it as highly expedient, that mission-
aries should be sent thither, in order to convert so wise a nation to
Christianity."

It was a long while after publication that many readers were con-
vinced that Gulliver's Travels were fictitious.

But the most singular blunder was produced by the ingenious
" Hermippus Redivi^us" of Dr. Campbell , a curious banter on the
hermetic philosophy , and the universal medecine 5 but the grave
irony is so closely kept up, that it deceived for a length of time the
most learned. His notion of the art of prolonging life , by inhaling
the breath of young women, v.as eagerly credited. A physician, who
himself had composed a treatise on health, was so iniluencedby it ,
that he actually took lodgings at a female boarding-school , that he
might never be without a constant supply of the breath of young
ladies. Mr. Thicknesse seriously adopted the project. Dr. Kippis
acknowledged that after he had read the work in his youth , the
reasonings and the facts left him several days in a kind of fairy land.
I have a copy with manuscript notes by a learned physician , who
seems to have had no doubts of its veracity. After all , the intention
of the work was long doubtful 5 till Dr. Campbell assured a friend it
was a mere jeu d'esprit-, that Bayle was considered as standing
w ithout a rival in the art of treating at large a difficult subject ,
without discovering to which side his own sentiments leaned. Campbell
bad read more uncommon books than most men, and wished to rival
Bayle, and at the same time to give many curious matters little known.
Palavicini , in his History of the Council of Trent , to confer an
honour on M. Lansac , ambassador of Charles IX. to that council ,
bestows on him a collar of the order of the Saint Esprit 5 but which
order was not instituted till several years afterwards by Henry III.

270 LITERARY BLUNDERS.

A similar voluntary blunder is lliat of Surila, in his Annalcs de la
Corona de Aragon. Tiiis writer represents, in the battles he de-
scribes , many persons who were not present ; and this , merely to
confer honour on some particular families.

Fabiani, quoting a French narrative of travels in Italy , look for
the name of the author the words, found at the end of the title-page,
Enrichide deux Listes; that is, " Enriched with two lists :" on this
he observes, "that Mr. Enriched with two lists has not failed to do
that justice to Ciampini which he merited." The abridgers of Gesner s
Bibliolheca ascribe the romance of Amadis to one Acuerdo Olvido;
Remembrance , Oblivion ; mistaking the French translator's Spanish
motto on the title-page , for the name of the author,

D'Aquin, the French king's physician, in his Memoir on the Pre-
paration of Bark, lakes Mantissa, which is the title of the Appendix
to the History of Plants by Johnstone, for the name of an author ,
and who, he says, is so extremely rare, that he only knows him by
name.

Lord Bolingbroke imagined , that in those famous verses, begin-
ning with Excudent alii , etc. Virgil attributed to the Romans the
glory of having surpassed the Greeks in historical composition :
according to his idea, those Roman hislorian&whom Virgil preferred
to the Grecians were Sallust , Livy , and Tacilus. But Virgil died
before Livy had written his history, or Tacitus was born.

An honest friar , who compiled a church history , has placed in
the class of ecclesiastical writers , Guarini , the Ilahan poet : on the
faith of Ihe title of his celebrated amorous pastoral, II Pastor Fide,
'•' The Faithful Shepherd ," our good father imagined that the
character of a curate , vicar , or bishop , was represented in this
work.

A blunder has been recorded of the monks in the dark ages, which
was likely enough to happen when their ignorance was so dense. A
rector of a parish going to law with his parishioners about paving
the church , quoted this authority from St. Peter — Paveani illi ,
non paveam ego j which he construed , They are to pave the
church, not I. This was allowed to be good law by a judge, himself
an ecclesiastic loo I

One of Ihe grossest literary blunders of modern limes is that of
the laic Gilbert Wakefield, in his edition of Pope. He there lakes
the well known " Song by a Person of Quality,' which is a piece of
ridicule on the glittering tuneful nonsense of certain poets, as a serious
composilion. In a most copious commentary , he proves that every
line seems unconnected with its brothers, and that the whole reflects
disgrace on its author! A circumstance which too evidently shows
liow necessary Ihc knowledge of modern literary history is to a

LITERARY BLUNDERS. 57 »

modern commenlalor , and that Ihoso wlio aro profound in verbal
Greek are nol Ihe best critics on Kiiglisli wrilers.

The Abbe Bizot, the author of the medallic history of Holland ,
fell into a droll mistake. There is a medal, struck when Philip 11.
set forth his invincible Annada , on which are represented the
King of Spain , the Emperor , the Pope , Electors , Cardinals, etc.
with their eyes covered with a bandage, and bearing for inscription
this fine verse of Lucretius : —

O csecas liomlnum mentes I O pectora ca>ca !

The abbe prepossessed with the prejudice, that a nation persecuted
by the pope and his adherents could not represent them without
some insult, did not examine with suflicient care the ends of the
bandages which covered the eyes and waved about the heads of the
personages represented on this medal : he rashly took them for
asses' e«/'5, and as such they arc engraved !

Mabillon has preserved a curious literary blunder of some pious
Spaniards, who applied to the Pope for consecrating a day in honour
of Saint Viar. His holiness , in the voluminous catalogue of his
saints , was ignorant of this one. The only proof brought forwards
for his existence was this inscription : —

An antiquary, however, hindered one more festival in the Catholic
calendar , by convincing them that these letters were only the re-
mains of an inscription erected for an ancient surveyor of the roads-,
;md he read their sainlship thus :

pryEFEctuS VIARum.

Maffei , in his comparison between Medals and Inscriptions ,
detects a literary blunder in Spon, who, meeting with this in-
scription ,

Maxima VI. Consule.

takes the letters VI for numerals , which occasions a strange ana-
chronism. They are only contractions of Viro Illustri — V I.

As absurd a blunder was this of Dr. Stukeley on the coins of
Carausius 5 finding a battered one with a defaced inscription of

FORTVnA AVg.

he read it

ORIVNA AVg.

And sagaciously interpreting this to be the wz/e of Carausius, makes

272 LITERARY BLUNDERS

a new personage slarl up in history ; he contrives even to give some
llieorelicai Memoirs of the August Ornuia !

Father Sirmond was of opinion that St. Ursula and her eleven
thousand Virgins were all created out of a blunder. In some ancient
IMS. they found St. Ursula et Undeciniilla V. M. meaning Si.
Ursula and UndecimUla , Virgin Martyrs j imagining that Unde-
ciinilla with the V^. and M. which followed , was an abbreviation
for Undecem Millia MaHyrum Virginum , they made out of
Two Virgins the whole Eleven Thousand !

Pope , in a note on Measure for Measure , informs us , that its
story was taken from Cinthio's Novels , Dec. 8. Nov. 5. That is,
Decade 8, Novel 5. The critical Warburton , in his edition of
Shakspeare, puts the words in full length thus, December 8 , No-
vember 5.

When the fragments of Petronius made a great noise in the
literary world, Meibomius, an erudite ofLubeck, read in a letter
from another learned scholar of Bologna , " We have here an en-
tire Petronius; I saw it with mine own eyes , and with admira-
tion." Meibomius in post-haste is on the road , arrives at Bolo-
gna , and immediately inquires for the librarian Capponi. He in-
quires if it were true that they had at Bologna an entire Petro-
nius? Capponi assures him that it was a thing which had long
been public '•'•Can I see this Petronius? Let me examine it I " —
'•'Certainly," repHes Capponi , and leads our erudite ofLubeck to
the church where reposes the body of St. Petronius. Meibomius
bites his lips , calls for his chaise , and takes his flight.

A French translator, when he came to a passage of Swift , in
which it is said that the Duke of Marlborough broke an officer ;
not being acquainted with this Anglicism, he translated it roue ,
broke on a wheel !

Cibber's play of '-'• Love's last Shift " was entitled '•'• La dernier e
Chemise de V Amour. " A French writer of Congreve's life has
taken his it/wr«mg^ for a Morning Bride, ar\d translated it LE-
pouse du Matin.

Sir John Pringlc mentions his having cured a soldier by the use
of two quarts of Dog and Duck water daily : a French translator
specifies it as an excellent broth made of a duck and a dog ! In a re-
cent catalogue compiled by a French writer of Works on Natural
History, he has inserted the well-known " Essay on Irish Bulls''
by the Edgeworths. The proof, if it required any, that a Frenchman
cannot understand the idiomatic style of Shakspeare appears in a
French translator, who prided himself on giving a verbal translation
of our great poet, not aj)|)r()ving of Le Tourneur's paraphraslical

LITERARY BLUNDERS. 273

version. He found in the celebrated speech of Northumberland in
Henry IV.

Even such a man, so faiut, so spiritless ,
So dull , so dead in look , so ■woe-Oegone —

which he renders " Ainsi douleur , va-t'en! "

The Abbe Gregoire affords another striking proof of the errors to
which foreigners are liable when they decide on the language and
customs of another country. The Abb6, in the excess of his philan-
thropy, to show to what dishonourable oflices human nature is de-
graded , acquaints us that at London he observed a sign-board ,
proclaiming the master as tueiir despunaises de sa majeste! Bug-
destroyer to his majesty! This is no doubt the honest Mr. Tiffin,
in the Strand^ and the idea which must have occurred to the good
Abbe was, that his majesty's bugs were hunted by the said des-
troyer, and taken by hand — and thus human nature was degraded !

A French writer translates the Latin title of a treatise of Philo-
Judaeus Onmis bonus liber e5f. Every good man is a free man, by
Tout livre estbon. It was well for him, observes Jortin , that he
did not live within the reach of the Inquisition , which might have
taken this as a reflection on the Index Expurgatorius.

An English translator turned " Dieu defend I'adult^re " into
" God defends adultery." Guthrie , in his translation of Du Halde,
has " the twenty-sixth day of the new moon." The whole age of the
moon is but twenty-eight days. The blunder arose from his mistaking
the word neuuieme (nine) for nouvelle or neuve (new).

The facetious Tom Brown commited a strange blunder in his
translations of Gellis Circe. The V\Q)iA.Starne , not aware of its sig-
nification , he boldly rendered stares , probably from the similitude
of sound •, the succeeding translator more correctly discovered Starne
to be red-legged partridges I

In Charles II. s reign a new collect was drawn , in which a new
epithet was added to the king's title, that gave great offence, and
occasioned great raillery. He was styled our most religious king.
Whatever the signification oi religious might be in the Latin word,
as importing the sacredness of the king's person , yet in the Englis/i.
language it bore a signification that was no way applicable to the
king. And he was asked by his familiar courtiers , what must the
nation think when they heard him prayed for as their most religious
king ? — Literary blunders ot this nature are frequently discovered
in the versions of good classical scholars , who would make the En-
glish sevyiMy hend to the Latin and Greek. Even Milton has been
justly censured for his fre^e use of Latinisms and Grecisms.

The blunders of modern antiquaries on sepulchral monuments
are numerous. One mistakes a lion at a knights feet for a wata

I. JS

274 LITERARY BLUNDERS.

curled dog; anolljcr could not distinguish censers in llic hands of
angels iroin fishing-nets ,• two angels at a lady's feet were counted as
her two cherub-like babes ,• and another has mistaken a /eo/;a/r/ and
a hedgehog for a cat and a jat ! In some of these cases are the
antiquaries or the sculptors most to be blamed?

A literary blunder of Thomas Warton is a specimen of the manner
in which a man of genius may continue to blunder with infinite in-
genuity. In an old romance he finds these lines, describing the duel
of Saladin with Richard-Cceur-de-Lion : —

A Faucon brode iu Iiande be bare ,
For lie thought be wolde there
Have slayne Richard.

He imagines this Faucon brode means a falcon bird, or a
hawk, and that Saladin is represented witli this bird on his fist to
express his contempt of his adversary. He supports his conjecture
by noticing a Gothic picture , supposed to be the subject of this
duel , and also some old tapestry of heroes on horseback with hawks
on their fists ; he plunges into feudal times when no gentleman
appeared on horseback without his hawk. After all this curious
erudition , the rough but skilful Ritson inhumanly triumphed by
dissolving the magical fancies of the more elegant Warton, by
explaining a Faucon brode to be nothing more than a broad
faulchion , which , in a duel , was certainly more useful than a bird.
The editor of the private reprint of Hentzner, on that writer's tra-
dition respecting " the Kings of Denmark who reigned in England "
buried in the Temple Church , metamorphosed the two Inns of
Court , Grafs Inn and Lincoln s Inn , into the names of the
Danish kings , Gresin and Lyconin.

Rayle supposes that Marcellus Palingenius , who wrote thepoem
entitled the Zodiac, tlie twelve books bearing the names of the
signs, from this circumstance assumed the title o^Poeta Stellatus.
Rut it appears that this writer was an Italian and a native oiSfellada,
a town in the Ferrarese. It is probable that his birth-place originally
produced the conceit of the title of his poem : it is a curious in-
stance how a critical conjecture may be led astray by its own inge-
nuity, when ignorant of the real fact.

A LITERARY WIFE.

Marriage is such a rabble rout,
That those that are out , would fain get in ;
And those that are iu, would fain get out.

Chaucer.

Having examined some literary blunders , we will now pro-
ceed to the subject of a literary wife , which may happen to prove

A LITERARY WIFE. 275

one. A learned lady is to the laslc of few. It is however matter of
surprise , that several literary men should have fell such a w ant of
taste in respect to " their souTs far dearer part ," as Hector calls his
Andromache. The wives of many men of letters have been dissolute,
ill-humoured, slatternly, and have run into all the frivolities of the
age. The wife of the learned Buda^us was of a different character.

How delightful is it w hen the mind of the female is so happily
disposed, and so richly cultivated, as to participate in the literary
avocations of her husband! It is then truly that the intercourse of the
sexes becomes the most refined pleasure. What delight , for in-
stance , must the great Budeeus have tasted , even in those w orks
which must have been for others a most dreadful labour ! His w ife
left him nothing to desire. The frequent companion of his studies ,
she brought him the books he required to his desk ; she collated pas-
sages , and transcribed quotations •, the same genius , the same in-
clination , and the same ardour for literature , eminently appeared
in those two fortunate persons. Far from withdrawing her husband
from his studies, she was sedulous to animate him when he languish-
ed. Ever at his side, and ever assiduous; ever with some useful
book in her hand , she acknowledged herself to be a most happy
woman. Yet she did not neglect the education of eleven children.
She and Budaeus shared in the mutual cares they owed their pro-
geny. Buda3us was not insensible of his singular felicity. In one of
his letters, he represents himself as married to two ladies; one of
w hom gave him boys and girls , the other was Philosophy , who
produced books. He says , that in his twelve first years, Philosophy
had been less fruitful than JMarriage ; he had produced less books
than children ; he had laboured more corporally than intellectually ;
but he hoped to make more books than men. " The soul (says he)
will be productive in its turn ; it will rise on the ruins of the body ;
a prolific virtue is not given at the same .time to the bodily organs
and the pen."

The lady of Evelyn designed herself the fronstispiece to his transla-
tion of Lucretius. She felt the same passion in her own breast which
animated her husbands , who has w ritten w ilh such various inge-
nuity. Of Baron Haller it is recorded that he inspired his wife and
family with a taste for his different pursuits. They were usually
employed in assisting his literary occupations; they transcribed
manuscripts , consulted authors , gathered plants , and designed and
coloured under his eye. What a delightful family picture has the
younger Pliny given posterity in his letters! — Of Calphurnia, his
wife , he says , " Her affection to me has given her a turn to books •
and my compositions , w hich she takes a pleasure in reading, and
even getting by heart , are continually in her hands. How full of

S76 A LITERARY WIFE.

lender solicitude is she w hen I am entering upon any cause ! How
kindly does she rejoice with me when it is over! While I am plead-
ing, she places persons lo inform her from lime to time how I am
heard , what applauses I receive , and what success attends the cause.
When at any time I recite my works , she conceals herself behind
some curtain , and with secret rapture enjoys my praises. She sings
my verses to her lyre , w ith no other master but love , the best
instructor, for her guide. Her passion will increase with our days,
for it is not my youth nor my person , which time gradually impairs,
but my reputation and my glory, of which she is enamoured."

On the subject of a literary wife, I must introduce to the ac-
quaintance of the reader, JMargaret, duchess of Newcastle. She is
known at least by her name , as a voluminous writer-, for she extend-
ed her literary productions to the number of twelve folio volumes.

Her labours have been ridiculed by some wits 5 but had her studies
been regulated, she would have displayed no ordinary genius. The
Connoisseur has quoted her poems, and her verses have been
imitated by Milton.

The duke, her husband, was also an author^ his book on horse-
manship still preserves his name. He has Ukewise written comedies ,
and his contemporaries have not been penurious in their eulogiums.
It is true he was a duke. Shadwell says of him , "That he was the
greatest master of wit , the most exact observer of mankind , and the
most accurate judge of humour that ever he knew." The life of the
duke is written " by the hand of his incomparable duchess." It was
published in his lifetime. This curious piece of biography is a folio
of 197 pages , and is entitled " The life of the Thrice Noble , High ,
and Puissant Prince , William Cavendish." His titles then follow : —
" Written by the Thrice Noble, Hlustrious, and Excellent Princess,
Margaret Duchess of Newcastle , his wife. London, 1667." This
Life is dedicated to Charles the Second •, and there is also prefixed a
copious epistle to her husband the duke.

In this epistle the character of our Literary Wife is described with
all its peculiarities,

" Certainly, my lord , you have had as many enemies and as many
friends as ever any one particular person had ; nor do I so much
wonder at it , since I , a woman , cannot be exempt from the malice
and aspersions ofsi)iteful tonj^ues , which they cast upon my poor
writings, some denying me to be the true authoress of them^ for
your grace remembers well, that those books I put out first to the
judgment of this censorious age were accounted not to be written
by a w Oman , but that somebody else had writ and published them
in my name ; by which your lordship was moved to prelix an epistle
before one of them in my vindication , wherein you assure the world.

A LITERARY WIFE. 277

upon your honour, that what was written and printed in my name
was my own-, and I have also made known that your lordship was
my only tutor, in declaring to me what you had found and observed
by your own experience 5 for I being young when your lordshij)
married me could not have much knowledge of the world ^ but it
pleased God to command his servant Nature to endue me with a
poetical and philosophical genius , even from my birth ; for 1 did
write some books in that kind before I was twelve years of age ,
which for want of good method and order I would never divulge.
But though the world would not believe that those conceptions and
lancies which I writ were my own, but transcended my capacity,
yet they found fault, that they were defective for want of learning,
and on the other side , they said I had pluckt feathers out of the
universities ^ which wa^ a very preposterous judgment. Truly, my
lord, I confess that for want of scholarship, I could not express
myself so well as otherwise I might have done in those philosophical
writings I published first ^ but after I was returned with your lord-
ship into my native country, and led a retired country life, I applied
myself to the reading of philosophical authors , on purpose to learn
those names and words of art that are used in schools ; w hich at
first were so hard to me, that I could not understand them, but
was fain to guess at the sense of lliem by the w hole context , and
so writ them down , as I found them in those authors •, at which my
readers did wonder, and thought it impossible that a woman could
have so much learning and understanding in terms of art and scholas-
tical expressions :, so that I and my books are like the old apologue
mentioned in .^sop, of a father and his son who rid on an ass."
Here follow s a long narrative of this fable , w hich she applies to
herself in these words — "The old man seeng he could not please
mankind in any manner, and having received so many blemishes
and aspersions for the sake of his ass , was at last resolved to drown
him w hen he came to the next bridge. But I am not so passionate
to burn my w ritings for the various humours of mankind , and for
their finding fault 5 since there is nothing in this world , be it the
noblest and most commendable action whatsoever, that shall escape
blameless. As for my being the true and only authoress of them ,
your lordship knows best; and my attending servants are witness,
that I have had none but my own thoughts , fancies , and specula-
lions, to assist me ; and as soon as I set them down I send them to
those that are to transcribe them , and fit them for the press ;
whereof, since there have been several , and amongst them such
as only could write a good hand, but neither undei^stood orthogra-
phy, nor had any learning ( I being then in banishment , w ilh your
lordship, and not able to maintain learned secretaries , ) which halh

278 . A LITERARY WIFE.

been a great disadvantage to my poor works , and the cause that they
have heen printed so false and so full of errors ; for besides that I
want also skill in scholarship and true writing, I did many times
not peruse the copies that were transcribed , lest they should disturb
my following conceptions, by which neglect, as I said, many
errors are slipt into my works , which , yet I hope , learned and
impartial men will soon rectify, and look more upon the sense than
carp at words. I have been a student even from childhood ^ and
since I have been your lordship's wife I have lived for the most part
a strict and retired life , as is best known to your lordship ; and
therefore my censurers cannot know much of me , since they have
little or no acquaintance with me. 'Tis true I have been a traveller
both before and after I was married to your lordship , and sometimes
show myself at your lordship's command in pubhc places or assem-
blies, but yet I converse with few. Indeed, my lord, I matter not
the censures of this age , but am rather proud of them •, for it shows
that my actions arc more than ordinary, and according to the old
proverb , it is better to be envied than pitied ; for I know well that
it is merely out of spite and malice , whereof this present age is so
full that none can escape them , and they'll make no doubt to stain
even your lordship's loyal, noble, and heroic actions, as well as
they do mine ^ tliough yours have been of war and fighting , mine
of contemplating and writing : yours were performed publicly in the
field , mine privately in my closet ; yours had many thousand eye-
witnesses; mine none but my waiting-maids. But the great God,
that hitherto bless'd both your grace and me , will, I question not,
preserve both our fames to after-ages.

" Your grace's honest wife,

" and humble servant,

"M. Newcastle."

The last portion of this life , which consists of the observations
and good things which she had gathered from the conversations of
her husband , forms an excellent Ana ; and shows that when Lord
Orford, in his "Catalogue of Noble Authors," says, tiiat "this
stately poetic couple was a picture of foolish nobility," he writes ,
as he docs too often , with extreme levity. But we must now attend
to the reverse of our medal.

Many chagrins may corrode the nuptial state of literary men.
Females who, prompted by vanity, but not by taste, unite them-
selves to scholars, must ever complain of neglect. The inexhaustible
occupations of a library v/ill only present to such a most dreary
solitude. Such a lady declared of her learned husband, that she was
more jealous of his books than his mistresses. It was probably while

A LITERARY WIFE. 270

Glover was composing his ' Leonidas," llial his lady avenged
herself for this Homeric inattention to her, and took her flight
with a lover. It was peculiar to the learned Dacicr to be united to
a woman, his equal in erudition and liis superior in taste. When
she wrote in the album of a German traveller a verse from Sophocles
as an apology for her unwilhngncss to place herself among his
learned friends, that "Silence is the female's ornament," it was a
trait of her modesty. The learned Pasquier was coupled to a female
of a different character, since he tells us in one of his Epigrams that
to manage the vociferations of his lady, he was compelled himself
to become a vociferator. — " Unfortunate wretch that I am, I who
am a lover of universal peace ! But to have peace I am obliged ever
to beat war."

Sir Thomas More was united to a woman of the harshest temper
and the most sordid manners. To soften the morosencss of her dis-
position, "he persuaded her to play on the lute, viol, and other
instruments , every day " Whether it was that she had no ear for
music , she liersclf never became harmonious as the instrument she
touched. All these ladies may be considered as rather too alert in
thought , and too spirited in action ^ but a lame cuckoo bird who is
always repeating the same tone must be very fatiguing. The lady
of Samuel Clarke , the great compiler of books in 1680, whose name
was anagrammatiscd to " suck ail cream , " alluding to his inde-
fatigable labours in sucking all the cream of every other author,
without having any cream himself, is described by her husband
as entertaining the most sublime conceptions of his illustrious com-
pilations. This appears by her behaviour. lie says, "(hat she
never rose from table without making him a curtesy, nor drank to
him without bowing , and that his word was a law to her. "

I was much surprised in looking over a correspondence of the
limes, that in 1590 the Bishop of Litchfield and Coventry writing to
the Earl of Shrewsbury on the subject of his living separate from
his countess , uses as one of his arguments for their union the fol-
lowing curious one , which surely shows the gross and cynical
feeling which the fair sex excited even among the higlier classes of
society. The language of lliis good bishop is neither that of truth,
we hope , nor certainly that of religion.

"But some will saye in your Lordship's behalfe that the Countesse
is a sharp and bitter shrewe , and therefore licke enough to shorten
your lief, if shee should kepe yow company. Indeede , my good
Lord, I have heard some say so ^ but if shrewdnesse or sharpnesse may
be a juste cause of separation between a man and wiefe, I Ihinck
fewe men in Englande would keepe their wives longe ^ for it is a
conmion jeste , yet Irewe in some sense , (hat there is but one

280 A LITERARY WIFE.

shrewe in all the worlde , and everee man hath her : and so everee
man must be ridd of his wiefe that wolde be ridd of a shrewe. "
It is wonderful this good bishop did not use another argument as
cogent, and which would in those times be allowed as something;
tlie name of his lordship , Shj-ewsbury , would have afforded a
consolatory pun!

The entertaining Marville says that the generality of ladies
married to literary men are so vain of the abilities and merit of
their husbands , that they arc frequently insufferable.

The wife of Barclay, author of "The Argenis , " considered
herself as the wife of a demigod. This appeared glaringly after his
death : for Cardinal Barberini having erected a monument to the
memory of his tutor, next to the lomb of Barclay, Mrs. Barclay
was so irritated at this that she demoHshed his monument, brought
home his bust , and declared that the ashes of so great a genius as
her husband should never be placed beside a pedagogue.

Salmasius's wife was a termagant ; Christina said she admired his
patience more than his erudition. Mrs Salmasius indeed consi-
dered herself as the queen of science , because her husband was
acknowledged as sovereign among the critics. She boasted that she
had for her husband the most learned of all the nobles , and the
most noble of all the learned. Our good lady always joined the
learned conferences which he held in his study. She spoke loud,
and decided with a tone of majesty. Salmasius was mild in conver-
sation , but the reverse in his writings , for our proud Xantippe
considered him as acting beneath himself if he did not magisterially
call every one names !

The wife of Rohault , when her husband gave lectures on the
philosophy of Descartes , used to seat herself on these days at the
door, and refused admittance to every one shabbily dressed , or who
did not discover a genteel air. So convinced was she that , to be
worthy of liearing the lectures of her husband , it was proper to
appear fashionable. In vain our good lecturer exhausted himself in
telling her that fortune does not always give fine clothes to philo-
sophers.

The ladies of Albert Durer and Berghem were both shrews. The
wife of Durer compelled that great genius to the hourly drudgery
of his profession , merely to gratify her own sordid passion : in
despair, Albert ran away from his Tisiphone \ she wheedled him
back , and not long afterwards this great artist fell a viclisn to her
furious disposition. Bergiuun's wife would never allow that excellent
artist to quit his occupations : and she contrived an odd expedient
to detect his indolence. The artist worked in a room above her 5 ever
and anon she roused him by thumping a long slick against tho

A LITERARY WIFE. 281

ceiling, while the obedient Berghem answered by stamping his foot,
to satisfy Mrs. Berghem that he was not napping.

jElian had an aversion to the marriage state. Sigonius, a learned
and well known scholar, would never marry, and alleged no inele-
gant reason ; that "Minerva and Venus could not live together. "

Matrimony has been considered by some writers as a condition
not so well suited to the circumstances of philosophers and n)cn of
learning. There is a little tract which professes to investigate the
subject. It has for title , De Matrimonio Literati, an ccelibeni
esse , an verb nubere conveniat , i. e. of the Marriage of a IMan
of Letters, with an inquiry whether it is most proper for liim to
continue a bachelor, or to marry?

" The author alleges the great merit of some women ; par-
ticularly that of Gonzaga the consort of MontefeUro , duke of Ur-
bino \ a lady of such distinguished accomplishments , that Peter
Bembus said , none but a stupid man would not prefer one of her
conversations to all the formal meetings and disputations of the
philosophers.

" The ladies perhaps will be surprised to find that it is a ques-
tion among the learned, TVhether they ought to marry? and will
think it an unaccountable property of learning that it should lay
the professors of it under an obligation to disregard the sex. But it
is very questionable whether, in return for this want of complai-
sance in them , the generality of ladies would not prefer the beau ,
and the man of fashion. However, let there be Gonzagas , they will
find converts enough to their charms."

The sentiments of Sir Thomas Browne on the consequences of
marriage are very curious, in the second part of his Keligio Medici,
sect. 9. When he wrote that work , he said, " I was never yet once ,
and commend their resolutions, who never marry twice." He calls
woman "• the rib and crooked piece of man." He adds , " I could
be content that we might procreate like trees, without conjunction,
or that there were any way to procreate the world without this tri-
vial and vulgar way." He means the union of sexes, which he de-
clares " is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life, nor
is there any thing that will more deject his cooled imagination,
when he shall consider what an odd and unworthy piece of folly he
hath committed." He afterwards declares he is not averse to that
sweet sex , but naturally amorous of all that is beautiful , " I could
look a whole day with delight upon a handsome picture , though it
be but of a horse." He afterwards disserts very profoundly on the
music there is in beauty, " and the silent note which Cupid strikes
is far sweeter than the sound of an instrument." Such were his
sentiments when youthful, and residing at Leyden; Dutch philoso-

282 A LITERARY WIFE.

phy had al first chilled his passion ; it is probable that passion after-
wards inflamed his philosophy — for he married , and had sons and
daughters!

Dr. Cocchi a modern Italian writer, but apparently a cynic as
old as Diogenes , has taken the pains of composing a treatise on the
present subject enough to terrify the boldest Bachelor of Arts I He
has conjured up every chimera against the marriage of a literary
man. He seems, however, to have drawn his disgusting portrait
from his own country; and the chaste beauty of Britain only looks
the more lovely beside this Florentine wife.

I shall not retain the cynicism which has coloured such revolting
features. When at length the doctor finds a woman as all women
ought to be, he opens a new spring of misfortunes which must attend
her husband. He dreads one of the probable consequences of matri-
mony— progeny, in which we must maintain the children we beget!
He thinks the father gains nothing in his old age from the tender
offices administered by his own children : he asserts these are much
better performed by menials and strangers ! The more children he
has , the less he can afford to have servants ! The maintenance of his
children will greatly diminish his property ! Another alarming ob-
ject in marriage is that, by affinity, you become connected with the
relations of the wife. The envious and ill-bred insinuations of the
mother, the family quarrels, their poverty or their pride , all disturb
the unhappy sage who falls into the trap of connubial felicity ! But
if a sage has resolved to marry, he impresses on him the pruden-
tial principle of increasing his fortune by it, and to remember his
" additional expenses! " Dr. Cocchi seems to have thought that a
human being is only to live for himself ; he had neither a heart to
feel , a head to conceive , nor a pen that could have written one
harmonious period, or one beautiful image! Bayle, in his article
Raphelengius , note B , gives a singular specimen of logical
subtlety , in " a reflection on the consequence of marriage."
This learned man was imagined to have died of grief for hav-
ing lost his wife , and passed three years in protracted despair.
What therefore must we think of an unhappy marriage, since a
happy one is exposed to such evils? He then shows that an unhappy
marriage is attended by beneficial consequences to the survivor. In
this dilemma , in the one case , the husband liv(>s afraid his wife will
die, in the oilier that she will not! If you love her, you will always
be afraid of losing her-, if you do not love her, you will always be
afraid of not losing her. Our satirical Cclibalaire is gored by the
horns of the dileiiuna he has conjured up.

James Peliver, a famous botanist . then a bachelor , the friend of

DEmCATiONS. 283

Sir Hans Sloane, in an album signs his name with this designa-
tion : —

'' From the Goat tavern in the Strand , London , Nov. 27.
In the 34lh year oi my freedom , A. D. 1697."

DEDICATIONS.

Some authors excelled in this species of literary artifice. The
Italian Doni dedicated each of his letters in a book called La Li-
braria , to persons whose name began w ilh the first letter of the
epistle , and dedicated the whole collection in another epistle • so
that the book , which only consisted of forty-five pages , w as de-
dicated to above twenty persons. This is carrying literary mendicity
pretty high. Politi , the editor of the Martyrolog;iwn Romanum ,
published at Rome in 1751 , has improved on the idea of Doni ; for to
the 365 days of the year of this Martyrology he has prefixed to each
an epistle dedicatory. It is fortunate to have a large circle of ac-
quaintance, though they should not be worthy of being saints. Gal-
land, the translator of the Arabian Nights, prefixed a dedication to
each tale which he gave; had he finished the " one thousand and
one," he would have surpassed even the Martyrologist.

Mademoiselle Scudery tells a remarkable expedient of an inge-
nious trader in this line — One Rangouze made a collection of letters
which he printed without numbering them. By this means the book-
binder put that letter which the author ordered him first ; so that
all the persons to whom he presented this book , seeing their names
at the head , considered they had received a particular compliment.
An Italian physician , having written on Hippocrates's Aphorisms ,
dedicated each book of his Commentaries to one of his friends , and
the index to another !

More than one of our own authors have dedications in the same
spirit. It was an expedient to procure dedicatory fees : for publishing
books by subscription was an art then undiscovered. One prefixed
a different dedication to a certain number of printed copies , and
addressed them to every great man he knew , who he thought re-
lished a morsel of flattery, and would pay handsomely for a coarse
luxury. Sir Balthazar Gerbier, in his " Counsel to Builders,' has
made up half the work with forty-two Dedications, which he excu-
ses by the example of Antonio Perez ; but in these dedications Perez
scatters a heap of curious things , for he was a very universal genius.
Perez, once secretary of state to Philip II. of Spain, dedicates his
" Obras," first to " Nuestro sanctissimo Padre," and " Al Sacro
Collegio," then follows one to " Henry IV," and then one still more
embracing, "A todos." — Fuller, in his " Church History," has

284 DEDICATIOIVS.

with admirable contrivance introduced twelve title-pages , besides
the general one , and as many particular dedications , and no less
than fifty or sixty of those by inscriptions which are addressed to
his benefactors^ a circumstance which Heylin in his severity did
not overlook-, for " making his work bigger by forty sheets at the
least ; and he was so ambitious of the number of his patrons , that
having but four leaves at the end of his History, he discovers a
particular benefactress to inscribe them to! " This unlucky lady, the
patroness of four leaves, Heyhn compares to Roscius Regulus, who
accepted the consular dignity for that part of the day on which Ce-
cina by a decree of the senate was degraded from it , which occa-
sioned Regulus to be ridiculed by the people all his life after , as the
consulof half a day.

The price for the dedication of a play was at length fixed , from
five to ten guineas from the Revolution to the time of George I.,
when it rose to twenty ; but sometimes a bargain was to be struck
when the author and the play were alike indifferent. Sometimes the
party haggled about the price , or the statue while stepping into his
niche would turn round on the author to assist his invention. A pa-
tron of Peter Motteux, dissatisfied with Peter's colder temperament,
actually composed the superlative dedication to himself, and com-
pleted the misery of the apparent author by subscribing it with his
name. This circumstance was so notorious at the time, that it occa-
sioned a satirical dialogue between Motteux and his patron Heven-
ingham. The patron , in his zeal to omit no possible distinction that
might attach to him , had given one circumstance which no one but
himself could have known.

Patron.
I must confess I was to blame ,
That one particular to name;
The rest could never have been kuowu ,
/ made the style so like thy nwn.

Poet.

I beg your pardon , Sir; for that !

Patron.

Why d c what would you be at!

I writ below myself, you sot!
Avoiding figures , tropes, what not;
For fear I should iny fancy raise
Above the level "f thy ^jlays!

Warton notices the common practi(;e , about the reign of Eliza-
beth , of an author's dedicating a work at once to a number of the
nobility. Chapman's Translation of Homer has sixteen sonnets
addressed to lords and ladies. Henry Lock , in a collection of two

DEDICATIONS. 285

hundred religious sonnets , mingles wilh such heavenly works the
terrestrial composition of a number of sonnels to his noble patrons ;
and not to multiply more instances , our groat poet Spenser, in
compliance with this disgraceful custom , or rather in obedience to
the established tyranny of patronage , has prelixed to the Fairy
Queen fifteen of these adulatory pieces , which in every respect are
the meanest of his compositions. At this period all men, as well as
writers , looked up to the peers, as on beings on whose smiles or
frowns all sublunary good and evil depended. At a much later period,
Elkanah Settle sent copies round to the chief party, for he wrote
for both parties , accompanied by addresses to extort pecuniary
presents in return. He had latterly one standard Elegy, and one
E phhalainium , printed off with blanks, which by ingeniously
filling up with the printed names of any great person w ho died or
was married , no one who was going out of life or was entering into
it could pass scot-free.

One of the most singular anecdotes respecting Dedications in
English bibliography is that of the Polyglot bible of Dr. CasteU.
Cromwell , much to his honour, patronised that great labour, and
allowed the paper to be imported free of all duties , both of excise
and custom. It was pubhshed under the protectorate, but many
copies had not been disposed of ere Charles 11. ascended the throne.
Dr. Castell had dedicated the work gratefully to Oliver, by mention-
ing him with peculiar respect in the preface , but he wavered with
Richard Cromwell. At the Restoration, he cancelled the two last
leaves , and supplied their places with three others , which softened
down the republican strains , and blotted Oliver's name out of the
book of life I The difference in what arc now called the republican
and the lojal copies have amused the curious collectors ; and the
former being very scarce are most sought after. I have seen the
republican. In the loyal copies the patrons of the work are mention-
ed , but their titles are essentially changed ; Sere?iissimus , Illus-
trissimus , and Honoratissimus , were epithets that dared not show
themselves under the levelling influence of the great fanatic repub-
lican.

It is a curious literary folly, not of an individual but of the Spanish
nation , who , when the laws of Castile were reduced into a code
under the reign of Alfonso X. surnamed the Wise , divided the work
into seven volumes ; that they might be dedicated to tlie seven
letters which formed the name of his majesty !

Never was a gigantic baby of adulation so crammed with the soft
pap of Dedications as Cardinal Richelieu. French flattery even
exceeded itself. — Among the vast number of very extraordinary
dedications to this man , in which the Divinitv itself is disrobed of

286 DEDICATIONS.

its attributes to bestow them on this miserable creature of vanity, I
suspect that even the following one is not the most blasphemous
he received. '^ Who has seen your face without being seized by those
soRcned terrors which made the prophets shudder when God
showed the beams of his glory ! But as he whom they dared not
to approach in the burning bush, and in the noise of thunders,
appeared to them sometimes in the freshness of the zephyrs , so the
softness of your august countenance dissipates at the same time ,
and changes into dew, the small vapours which cover its majesty."
One of these herd of dedicators , after the death of Richelieu ,
suppressed in a second edition his hyperbolical panegyric , and as
a punishment to himself, dedicated the work to Jesus Christ!

The same taste characterises our own dedications in the reigns of
Charles II. and James II. The great Dryden has carried it to an
excessive height ; and nothing is more usual than to compare the
patron wilh the Divinity — and at times a fair inference may be
drawn that the former was more in the author's mind than God
himself! A Welsh bishop made an apology to James I. ior prefer-
ring the Deity to his Majesty ! Dry den's extravagant dedications

were the vices of the time more than of the man ; they were loaded
with flattery, and no disgrace was annexed to such an exercise of
men's talents •, the contest being who should go farthest in the most
graceful way, and with the best turns of expression.

An ingenious dedication was contrived by Sir Simon Degge, who
dedicated "the Parson's Counsellor" to Woods , Bishop of Lich-
field, with this intention. Degge highly complimented the Bishop
on liaying most nobly restored the church , which had been demolish-
ed in the civil wars, and was rebuilt but left unfinished by Bishop
Hacket. At the time he wrote the dedication , Woods had not turned
a single stone, and it is said, that much against his will he did
something, from having hcoM so publicly reminded of it by this
ironical dedication.

PHILOSOPHICAL DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.

The "Botanic Garden" once appeared to open a new route
through the trodden groves of Parnassus. The poet, to a prodigality
of Imagination , united all the minute accuracy of Science. It is
a higlily-repolished labour, and was in the mind and in the hand of
ils author for twenty years before its first publication. The excessive
])olish of the verse has appeared too high to be endured throughout
a long composition ; it is certain that, in poems of length, a versi-
ticalion, which is not too florid for lyrical composition , will weary
by its brilliancy. Darwin, inasmuch as a rich philosophical fancy

PHILOSOPHICAL DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 287

conslilulos a pod, possesses Iho (3nlire art of poetry; no one has
carried the curious mechanism of verse and the arliliciai magic; of
poetical diction to a higher perfection. His volcanic head llamed with
imagination, but his torpid heart slept unawakened by passion.
His standard of poetry is by much too limited •, he supposes tliat the
essence of poetry is something of which a painter can make a picture.
A picturesque verse was with him a verse completely poetical. But
the language of the passions has no connexion with this principle •,
in truth , what he delineates as poetry itself, is but one of its pro-
vinces. Deceived by his illusive standard , he has composed a poem
which is perpetually fancy, and never passion. Hence his proces-
sional splendour fatigues , and his descriptive ingenuity comes at
length to be deficient in novelty, and all the miracles of art cannot
supply us with one touch of nature.

Descriptive poetry should be relieved by a skilful intermixture of
passages addressed to the heart as well as to the imagination : uniform
description satiates ; and has been considered as one of the inferior
branches of poetry. Of this both Thomson and Goldsmith were
sensible. In their beautiful descriptive poems they knew the art of
animating the pictures of Fancy with the glow of Sentiment.

Whatever may be thought of the originality of Darwin's poem, it
has been preceded by others of a congenial disposition. Brookes's
poem on "Universal Beauty,' published about 1735, presents us
with the very model of Darwin's versification; and the Latin poem
of De la Croix, in 1727, intitled " Connubia Floriim,'''' with his
subject. There also exists a race of poems which have hitherto been
confined to o/ze object^ which the poet selected from the works of
nature , to embellish with all the splendour of poetic imagination. I
have collected some titles.

Perhaps it is Homer, in his battle of \X\g frogs and Mice , and
Virgil in the poem on a Gnat , attributed to him , who have given
birth to these lusory poems. The Jesuits, particularly when they
composed in Latin verse, were partial to such subjects. There is a
little poem on Gold, by P. Le Fevre, distinguished for its elegance;
and Brumoy has given the Art of making Glass; in which he
has described its various productions with equal felicity and know-
ledge. P. Vani^re has written on Pigeons , Du Cerccau on Butter-
Jlies. The success which attended these productions produced
numerous imitations, of which several were favourably received.
Yanie^re composed three on the Grape , the Vintage , and the
Kitchen Garden. Another poet selected Oranges for his theme;
others have chosen for their subjects, Paper, Birds, and fresh-
water Fish. Tarillon has inflamed his imagination with gunpowder;
a milder genius , delighted with the oaten pipe , sang of Sheep ;

288 PHILOSOPHICAL DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.

one who was more pleased with another kind of pipe , has written
on Tobacco-, and a droll genius wrote a poem on Asses. Two
writers have formed didactic poems on the Art of Enigmas , and
on Ships.

Others have written on moral subjects. Brumoy has painted the
Passio72s, with a variety of imagery and vivacity of description •,
P. Meyer has disserted on Anger; Tarillon, like our Stillingfleel ,
on the Ai^t of Conversation ; and a lively writer has discussed the
subjects of Humour and Wit.

Giannetazzi , an Italian Jesuit , celebrated for his Latin poetry,
has composed two volumes of poems on Fishing and Navigation.
Fracastor has written delicately on an indelicate subject , his Syphi-
lis. Le Brun wrote a delectable poem on Sweetmeats ; another
writer on Mineral Waters, and a third on Printing. Yida pleases
with his Silk-worn2s and his Chess; Buchanan is ingenious with
his Sphere. Malapert has aspired to catch the Winds ; the philo-
sopher Huet amused himself with Salt, and again with Tea. The
Gardens of Rapin is a finer poem than critics generally can write ;
Quillet's Callipedia , or Art of gelling handsome Children , has
been translated by Rowe •, and Du Fresnoy at length gratifies the
connoisseur with his poem on Painting , by the embellishments
which his verses have received from the poetic diction of Mason ,
and the commentary of Reynolds.

This list might be augmented with a few of our own poets , and
there still remain some virgin themes which Oiily require to be
touched by the hand of a true poet. In the " Memoirs of Trevoux "
they observe , in their review of the poem on Gold; " That poems
of this kind have the advantage of instructing us very agreeably.
All that has been most remarkably said on the subject is united,
compressed in a luminous order, and dressed in all the agreeable
graces of poetry. Such writers have no little dilTiculties to encounter :
the style and expression cost dear \ and still more to give to an arid
topic an agreeable form , and to elevate the subject without falling
into another extreme. — In the other kinds of poetry the matter
assists and prompts genius ^ here we must possess an abundance to
display it. "

PAMPHLETS.

Myles Davies's "' Icon Libellorum , or a Critical History of
Pamphlets , " affords some curious information 5 and as this is a
pamphlet-reading age, I shall give a sketch of its contents.

The author observers : " From Pamphlets may be learned the
genius of the age , the debates of the learned , the follies of the
ignorant , the hevncs of government , and the mistakes of the cour-

PAMPHLETS. 58'J

tiers. Pamphlets furnish beaux with their airs , coquclles with their
charms. Pamphlets are as modisli ornaments to gentlewomen's toilet;^
as to gentlemen's pockets-, they carry reputation of wit and learning
to ail that make them their companions ; the poor find their account
in stall keeping and in hawking them ; the rich find in them their
shortest way to the secrets of church and slate. There is scarce any
class of people but may think themselves interested enough to be
concerned with what is published in pamphlets , either as to their
private instruction , curiosity, and reputation , or to the public
advantage and credit ; with all which both ancient and modern pam-
phlets are too often over familiar and free. — In short, with pam-
phlets the booksellers and stationers adorn the gaiety of shop-gazing.
Hence accrues to grocers , apothecaries , and chandlers , good
furniture , and supplies to necessary retreats and natural occasions.
In pamphlets lawyers will meet wilh their chicanery, physicians
with their cant, di\ines with their Shibboleth. Pamplriets become
more and more daily amusements to the curious , idle , and inqui-
sitive ; pastime to gallants and coquettes ; chat to the talkative ; catch-
words to informers ^ fuel to the envious 5 poison to the unfortunate 5
balsam to the wounded 5 employ to the lazy •, and fabulous materials
to romancers and novelists. "

This author sketches the origin and rise of pamphlets. He deduces
them from the short w ritings published by the Jewish Rabbins ;
various little pieces at the time of the first propagation of Christia-
nity ^ and notices a certain pamphlet w hich was pretended to have
been the composition of Jesus Christ, thrown from heaven, and
picked up by the archangel Michael at the entrance of Jerusalem.
It was copied by the priest Leora , and sent about from priest to
priest, till Pope Zachary ventured to pronounce it ^ forgery. He
notices several such extraordinary publications, many of which pro-
duced as extraordinary etTects.

He proceeds in noticing the first Arian and Popish pamphlets,
or rather libels, i. e. little books , as he distinguishes them. He
relates a curious anecdote respecting the forgeries of the monks.
Archbishop Usher deiected in a manuscript of St. Patrick's life ,
pretended to have been found at Louvain , as an original of a very
remote date , several passages taken , with little alteration , from his
own writings.

The following notice of our immortal Pope I cannot pass over :
'' Another class of pamphlets writ by Roman Catholics is that of
Poems, written chiefly by a Pope himself, a gentleman of that
name. He passed always amongst most of his acquaintance for what
is commonly called a Whig ; for it seems the Roman politics are
divided as well as Popish missionaries. However, one Esdras, an
I. id

290 PAMPHLETS.

apothecary, as he quahfies himself, has pubhshed a piping-hot
pamphlet against Mr. Pope's '•Rape of the Loch,' which he entitles
'• AKey to the Loch,' wherewith he pretends to unlock nothing
less.than a plot carried on by Mr. Pope in thai poem against the
last and this present ministry and government."

He observes on Sej-monr,, — " 'Tis not much to be questioned,
but of all modern pamphlets what or wheresoever, the English
stitched Sermojis be the most edifying , useful , and instructive ,
yet they could not escape the critical Mr. Bayle's sarcasm. He says,
' R6publique des Lellres, 'March 1710, in his article London,
' We see here sermons swarm daily from the press. Our eyes only
behold manna : are you desirous of knowing the reason? It is, that
the ministers being allowed to t^ead their sermons in the pulpit ,
biif all they meet with, and take no other trouble than to read
Ihem , and thus pass for very able scholars at a very cheap rate! ' "

He now begins more directly the history of pamphlets , which he
branches out from four different etymologies. He says, " However
foreign the word Pamphlet may appear, it is a genuine English
word , rarely known or adopted in any other language : its pedigree
cannot well he traced higher than the latter end of Queen Eliza-
beth's reign. In its first state wretched must have been its ap-
pearance, since the great linguist John Minshew, in his ' Guide
into Tongues,' printed in 1617, gives it the most miserable
character of which any libel can be capable. Mr. Minshew says (and
his words were quoted by Lord Chief Justice Holl), ' A Pamphlet,
that is Opusculum Stolidorum, the diminutive performance of fools;
from Tcuv^ all, and vXii'^a, 1 fill, to wit, all places. According to
the vulgar saying, all things are full of fools, or foolish things •, for
such multitudes of pamphlets , unworthy of the very name of libels,
being more vile than common shores and the filth of beggars , and
being {lying papers daubed over and besmeared witli the foams of
drunkards , are tossed far and near into the mouths and hands of
scoundrels; neither will the sham oracles of Apollo be esteemed so
mercenary as a Pamphlet. ' "

Those who will have the word to be derived from Pam , the
famous knave of Loo , do not dilfcr much from Minshew ; for the
derivation of the word Pam is in all probability from ^^v, allj or
the whole or tiie c/ticfo'i the game.

Under {\m first etymological notion of Pamphlets may be com-
prehended the vulgar stories of the Nine Worthies of the World, of
the seven Champions of Christendom , Torn Tiiumb , Valentine and
Orson , etc. as also most apocryphal lucubrations. The greatest col-
lection of this first sort of Pamphlets are the Ilabbinic traditions in
the Talmud^ consisting of fourteen volumes in folio . and the

PAMPHLETS. S'Jl

Popish legends of The Lives of Ihc Saints , which lliough not
finished, form fifly folio voluinos, all which tracts were originally
in pamphlet forms.

The second idea of the radix of the word Pamphlet is, thai
it takes its derivations from vS.^, all, and (pixioo , I love, signifying
a thing beloved by all ; for a pamphlet being of a small portable
bulk , and of no great price , is adapted to every ones understand-
ing and reading. In this class may be placed all stitched books on
serious subjects , the best of which fugitive pieces have been gene-
rally preserved , and even reprinted in collections of some tracts ,
miscellanies, sermons , poems , etc. ; and, on the contrary, bulky
volumes have been reduced , for the convenience of the public ,
into the familiar shapes of stitched pamphlets. Both these methods
have been thus censured by the majority of the lower house of
convocation 1711. These abuses are thus represented : " They have
re-published, and collected into volumes, pieces written longagoon
the side of infideUty. They have reprinted together in the most con-
tracted manner, many loose and licentious pieces , in order to their
being purchased more cheaply, and dispersed more easily. "

The third original interpretation of the word Pamphlet may be
that of the learned Dr. Skinner, in his Etymologicon Linguce
AnglicancB , that it is derived from the Belgic word Panipier, si-
gnifying a little paper, or libel. To this third set of Pamphlets may
be reduced all sorts of printed single sheets , or half sheets , or any
other quantity of single paper prints , such as Declarations , Re-
monstrances, Proclamations, Edicts, Orders, Injunctions, Memo-
rials , Addresses , Newspapers , etc.

The Jourth radical signification of the word Pamphlet is that ho-
mogeneal acceptation of it , viz. as it imports any Utile book , or
small volume whatever, whether stitched or bound , whether good
or bad , whether serious or ludicrous. The only proper Latin term
for a Pamphlet is Libellus, or little book. This word indeed signifies
in English an abusive paper or little book , and is generally taken
in the worst sense.

After all this display of curious literature , the reader may smile
at the guesses of Etymologists ; particularly when he is reminded
that the derivation oi Pamphlet is drawn from quite another mean-
ing to any of the present , by Johnson , which I shall give for his
immediate gratification.

Pamphlet [par un filet , Fr. Whence this word is written an-
ciently, and by Caxton , paimjlet] a small book ; properly a book
sold unbound , and only stitched.

The French have borrowed the word Pamphlet from us , and
have the goodness of not disfiguring its orthography. Roast Beef is

i>92 PAMPHLETS.

also in the same predicament. I conclude W\d.{ Pamphlets and Roast
Beef' hose therefore their origin in our country.

Pinkerlon favoured me with the following curious notice con-
cerning pamphlets : —

Of the etymon of pamphlet I know nothing ; but that the word
is fare more ancient than is commonly believed , take the following
proof from the celcbra'ted Philobiblioii , ascribed to Richard de
Buri , bishop of Durham , but written by Robert Holkot , at his
desire , as Fabricius says , about the year 1344 , ( Fabr. Bibl. Medii
yEvi , Vol. I. ) •, it is in the eighth chapter.

" Sed revera libros non libras maluimus ; codicesque plus dilexi-
mus quam florenos : ac panfletos exiguos phaleralis praetulimus
palescedis."

" But , indeed , we prefer books to pounds ; and we love manu-
scripts better than florins ; and we prefer small pamphlets to war-
horses."

This word is as old as Lydgate's time : among his works , quoted
by Warton , is a poem " translated from a pamflete in Frensche."

LITTLE BOORS.

Myles Davies has given an opinion of the advantages of Litlle
Books , with some humour.

" The smailness of the size of a book was always its own commen-
dation 5 as , on the contrary, the largeness of a book is its own dis-
advantage , as well as terror of learning. In short , a big book is a
scare-crow to the head and pocket of the author, student, buyer, and
seller, as well a harbour of ignorance ; hence the inaccessible mas-
teries of the inexpugnable ignorance and superstition of the ancient
heathens , degenerate Jews , and of the popish scholasters , and ca-
nonists entrenched under the frightful bulk of huge , vast , and in-
numerable volumes ^ such as the great folio that the Jewish rabbins
fancied in a dream Avas given by the angel Raziel to his pupil Adam,
containing all the celestial sciences. And the volumes writ by Zoro-
aster, entiled The Similitude, which is said to have taken up no more
space than 1,260 hides of cattle : as also the 25,000, or, as some
say, 36,000 volumes , besides 525 lesser MSS. of his. The grossness
and multitude of Aristotle and Varro's books were both a prejudice
to the authors , and an hinderance to learning , and an occasion of
the greatest part of them being lost. The largeness of Plutarch's
treatises is a great cause of his being neglected, while Longinus and
Epictelus , in their pamphlet Remains , are every one's companions.
Origcn's 6,000 volumes ( as Epiphanius will have it ) were not only
the occasion of his venting more numerous errors , but also for the

LITTLE BOOKS. 293

most part of their perdition. — Wore il not for Euclid's Elements,
Hippocrates's Aphorisms, Justinian's Inslilulos , and Littleton's Te-
nures in small pamphlet volumes , youns malb.omalicians , freshwa-
ter physicians , civilian novices , and Ics aiypreniices en la ley
d'^ngteterre, would be at a loss and stand, and total disencourage-
ment. One of the greatest advantages the Dispensary has over
King Arthur is its pamphlet size. So Boileau's Lulrin , and his
other pamphlet poems , in respect of Perrault's and Chapelain's
St. Paulin and la Pucelle. These seem to pay a deference to the
reader's quick and great understanding ^ those to mistrust his capa-
city, and to confine his time as well as his intellect."

Notwithstanding so much may be alleged in favour of books of a
small size , yet the scholars of a former age regarded them with
contempt. Scaliger, says Baillet, cavils withDrusius for thesmallness
of his books; and one of the great printers of the time (Moret , the
successor of Plantin) complaining to the learned Puleanus, who was
considered as the rival of Lipsius , that his books were too small for
sale, and that purchasers turned away, frightened at their diminu-
tive size ; Puleanus referred him to Plutarch , whose works consist
of small treatises ; but the printer took fire at the comparison , and
turned him out of his shop , for his vanity at pretending that he
wrote in any manner like Plutarch ! a specimen this of the polite-
ness and reverence of the early printers for their learned authors ;
Jurieu reproaches Colomies that he is a great author of little
books !

At least , if a man is the author only of little books , he will es-
cape the sarcastic observation of Cicero on a voluminous writer. —
that " his body might be burned with his writings ," of which we
have had several , eminent for the worlhlessness and magnitude of
their labours.

It was the literary humour of a certain Maecenas, who cheered
the lustre of his patronage w ith the steams of a good dinner, to
place his guests according to the size and thickness of the books
they had printed. At the head of the table sat those who had publish-
ed m folio ^foUissimo; next the authors m quarto; then those in
octavo. At that table Blackmore would have had the precedence of
Gray, Addison , who found this anecdote in one of the Anas , has
seized this idea , and applied it with felicity of humour in No. 529
of the Spectator.

Montaigne's works have been called by a Cardinal , '' The Bre-
viary of Idlers." It is therefore the book for many men. Francis Os-
borne has a ludicrous image in favour of such opuscula. " Huge
volumes , like the ox roasted whole at Bartholomew foir, may pro-

29 i LITTLE BOORS.

claim plenty of labour, but aiTord less of what is delicate , savoury,
and well-concocted , than smaller pieces."

In the list of titles of minor works , which Aulus Gellius has pre-
served, the lightness and beauty of such compositions are charming-
ly expressed. Among these we find — a Basket of Flowers ; an
Embroidered Mantle ; and a Variegated Meadow.

A CATHOLIC'S REFUTATION.

In a religious book published by a fellow of the Society of Jesus ,
entitled, "• The Faith of a Catholic," the author examines what con-
cerns the incredulous Jews and other infidels. He would show that
Jesus Christ , author of the reUgion which bears his name, did not
impose on or deceive the Apostles whom he taught ^ that the Apostles
who preached it did not deceive those who were converted 5 and
that those who were converted did not deceive us. In proving these
three not difiicult propositions, he says, he confounds " the Atheist,
who does not believe in God ^ the Pagan , who adores several \ the
Deist y who believes in one God , but who rejects a particular Pro-
vidence ; the Freethinker^ who presumes to serve God according
to his fancy, without being attached to any religion ; the Philoso-
pher^ who lakes reason and not revelation for the rule of his belief:
the Gentile , who, never having regarded the Jewish people as a
chosen nation , does not believe God promised them a Messiah •, and
finally, the Jew , who refuses to adore the Messiah in the person of
Christ."

I have given this sketch , as it serves for a singular Catalogue of
Heretics.

It is rather singular that so late as in the year 1765, a work should
have appeared in Paris, which bears the title I translate, " The
Christian Religion pro^^ed by a single fact; or a dissertation in
which is shown that those Catholics of whom Huneric, King of the
Vandals , cut the tongues , spoke niiracalously all the remainder
of their days ; from whence is deduced the consequences of this
miracle against the Arians , the Socinians , and the Deists , and
particularly against Uic author of Emilius , by solving their dilfi-
cullies." It bears this Epigraph : Ecce Ego admirationemfaciam
populo hide, uuraculo grandi et stupendo.'" There needs no fur-
ther account of this book than the title.

THE GOOD ADVICE OF AN OLD LITERARY SINNER.

Authors of moderate capacity have unceasingly harassed the
public ; and have at leng'h been remembered only by (he number

TUE GOOD ADVICE OF AW OLD LITERARY SININER. 29©

or wretched volumes their unhappy industry has produced. Such an
author was the Abbe de Marolles , otherwise a most estimable and
ingenious man, and the patriarch of prinl-colicctors.

This Abbe was a most egregious scribbler ; and so tormented with
violent fits of printing, that he even printed lists and catalogues of
his friends. I have even seen at the end of one of his w()rks a list of
names of those persons who had given him books. He printed ins
works at his own expense, as the booksellers had unanimously de-
creed this. Menage used to say of his works, " The reason why I
esteem the productions of the Abbe is , for the singular neatness of
their bindings ; he embellishes them so beautifully, that the eye finds
pleasure in them." On a book of his versions of the Epigrams of
Martial, this critic wrote. Epigrams against Martial. Latterly,
for want of employment , our Abbe began a translation of the Bible ^
but having inserted the notes of the visionary Isaac de la Peyrerc,
the work was burnt by order of the ecclesiastical court. He was also
an abundant w riter in verse , and exullingly told a poet , that his
verses cost him httle : " They cost you what they are worth ," re-
plied the sarcastic critic. De Marolles in his Memoirs bitterly com-
plains of the injustice done to him by his contemporaries ; and says,
that in spite of the little favour siiown to him by the public, he has
nevertheless published, by an accurate calculation, one hundred
and thirty-three thousand one hundred and twenty-four verses I
Yet this was not the heaviest of his literary sins. He is a proof tlial
a translator may perfectly understand the language of his original ,
and yet produce an unreadable translation.

In the early part of his life this unlucky author had not been
without ambition; it was only when disappointed in his political pro-
jects that he resolved to devote himself to literature. As he was in-
capable of attempting original composition , he became known by
his detestable versions. He w rote above eighty volumes , which have
never found favour in the eyes of the critics 5 yet his translations
are not without their use , though they never retain by any chance
a single passage of the spirit of their originals.

The most remarkable anecdote respecting these translations is ,
that whenever this honest translator came to a difficult passage , he
wrote in the margin : " I have not translated this passage , because
it is very difficult, and in truth I could never understand it." He
persisted to the last in his uninterrupted amusement of printing
books •, and his readers having long ceased , he was compelled to
present them to his friends, who, probably, were not his readers.
After a literary existence of forty years, he gave the public a
work not destitute of entertainment in his own Memoirs , whicli
he dedicated to his relations and all his illustrious friends. The sin-

5!!)C THE GOOD ADVICE OF AN OLD LITERARY SIININER.

gular postcript to his Epistle Dedicatory contains excellent advice
for authors.

" I have omitted to tell you , that I do not advise any one of my
relatives or friends to apply himself as I ^have done to study , and
particularly to the composition of books , if he thinks that will add
to his fame or fortune. I am persuaded that of all persons in the
kingdom, none are more neglected than those who devote themselves
entirely to literature. The small number of successful persons
in that class ( at present I do not recollect more than two or three )
should not impose on one's understanding , nor any consequence
from them be drawn in favour of others. I know how it is by my
own experience , and by that of several amongst you , as well as by
many who are now no more, and with whom I was acquainted.
Believe me , gentlemen ! to pretend to the favours of fortune it is
only necessary to render one's self useful , and to be supple and ob-
sequious to those who are in possession of credit and authority ; to
be handsome in one's person ^ to adulate the powerful ; to smile ,
while you suffer from them every kind of ridicule and contempt
whenever they shall do you the honour to amuse themselves with
you ; never to be frightened at a thousand obstacles which may be
opposed to one ; have a face of brass and a heart of stone 5 insult
worthy men who are persecuted ; rarely venture to speak the truth •,
appear devout, with every nice scruple of religion , while at the
same time every duty must be abandoned when it clashes with your
interest. After these any other accomplishment is indeed super-
fluous."

MYSTERIES, MORALITIES, FARCES, AND SOTTIES.

The origin of the theatrical representations of the ancients have
been traced back to a Grecian stroller singing in a cart to the honour
of Bacchus. Our European exhibitions , perhaps as rude in their
commencement , were likewise for a long time devoted to pious pur-
poses , under the titles of Mysteries and Moralities. Of these primeval
compositions of the drama of modern Europe , I have collected some
anecdotes and some specimens.

It appears that i)ilgrims introduced these devout spectacles. Those
w ho returned from the Holy Land or other consecrated places com-
posed canticles of their travels, and amused their religious fancies
by interweaving scenes of which Christ , the Apostles , and other
objects of devotion, served as the themes. Menestrier informs us
that these pilgrims travelled in troops, and stood in the public
streets, where they recited tlieir poems, with their slatT in hand
while their chaplets and cloaks , covered with shells and images of

MYSTERIES, MORALITIES, FARCES, elc. 297

various colours , formed a piclurcsquo oxhibilion , which al length
excited Ihe piety of the citizens to erect occasionally a stage on an
extensive spot of ground. Tliese spectacles served as the amusement
and instruction of the people. So attractive were these gross exhibi-
tions in the middle ages, that they formed one of the principal or-
naments of the reception of princes on their public entrances.

When the Mysteries were performed at a more improved period ,
the actors were distinguished characters, and frequently consisted
of the ecclesiastics of the neighbouring villages , who incorporated
themselves under the title of Confreres de la Passion. Their pro-
ductions were divided, not into acts, but into different days of per-
formance, and they were performed in the open plain. This was al
least conformable to the critical precept of that mad knight whose
opinion is noticed by Pope. It appears by a IMS. in the Harleian
library, that they were thought to contribute so much to the infor-
mation and instruction of the people , that one of the Popes granted
a pardon of one thousand days to every person who resorted peace-
ably to the plays performed in the Whitsun-week at Chester, be-
ginning with the "Creation," and ending with the "General
Judgment." These were performed at the expense of the different
corporations of that city, and the reader may smile at the ludicrous
combinations. "The Creation " was performed by the Drapers;
the "Deluge" by the Dyers; " Abraham, Melchisedech , and
Lot," by the Barbers ; "The Purification " by the Blacksmiths;
"The last Supper" by the Bakers,- the "Resurrection" by the
Skinners; and the " Ascension " by the Tailors. In these pieces the
actors represented the person of the Almighty w ithout being sensible
of the gross impiety. So unskilful were they in this infancy of the
theatrical art , that very serious consequences w ere produced by their
ridiculous blunders and ill-managed machinery. The following sin-
gular anecdotes are preserved, concerning a Mystery which took up
several days in the performance.

" In the year 1437, when Conrad Bayer, bishop of Metz, caused
the Mystery of ' The Passion ' to be represented on the plain of
Yeximel near thai city , God was an old gentleman , named
IMr. Nicholas Neufchaiel of Touraine , curate of Saint A^ictory of
Metz , and who was very near expiring on the cross had he not been
timely assisted. He was so enfeebled , that it was agreed another
priest should be placed on ihe cross the next day, to finish the
representation of the person crucified, and which was done ; at the
same time Mr. Nicliolas undertook to perform ' The Resurrection ,'
which being a less difficult task, he did it admirably well. — An-
other priest , whose name was Mr. John de Nicey, curate of Met-
range , personated Judas , and he had like to have been stifled while

35J8 xMYSTERlES, MORALITIES,

he hung on the tree , for his neck shpped ^ this being at length
luckily perceived, he was quickly cut down and recovered.

John Bouchet, in his " Annales d'Aquitaine ," a work which
contains many curious circumstances of the times , written with
that agreeable simplicity which characterises the old writers, informs
us , that in 1486 he saw played and exibited in Mysteries by persons
of Poitiers, "The Nativity, Passion, and Resurrection of Christ,"
in great triumph and splendour ; there were assembled on this
occasion most of the ladies and gentlemen of the neighbouring
counties.

We will now examine the Mysteries themselves. I prefer for this
purpose to give a specimen from the French , which are livelier
than our own. It is necessary to premise to the reader, that my
versions being in prose will probably lose much of that quaint ex-
pression and vulgar naivete which prevail through the originals ,
written in octosyllabic verses.

One of these Mysteries has for its subject the election of an
apostle to supply the place of the traitor Judas. A dignity so awful
is conferred in the meanest manner ; it is done by drawing straws ,
of which he who gets the longest becomes the apostle. Louis Choc-
quet was a favourite composer of these religious performances :
when he attempts the pathetic , he has constantly recourse to devils ;
but, as these characters are sustained with little propriety, his pa-
thos succeeds in raising a laugh. In the following dialogue Anne
and Caiaphas are introduced conversing about St. Peter and St. John.

I remember them once very iiouest people. Tlicy have often brought tclr fish to
my house to sell.

CAIAPHAS.

Is this true ?

ANNE.

By God, it is true; my servants remcniher them very well. To live more at their
case they have left off business; or pcrliaps tliey Were iu vvaut of customers. Since
tliat time they have followed Jesus, tliat wicked heretic, who has taught lliem magic;
the fellow understands necromancy, and is the greatest magician alive, as far as Rome
itself.

St. John , attacked by the satellites of Domilian , amongst whom
the author has placed Longinus and Patroclus , gives regular answers
to their insulting interrogatories. Some of these I shall transcribe ^
but leave to the reader's conjectures the replies of the Saint, which
are not dillicult to anticipate.

PARTHliMJA.

Vou tell US Strange things, to say tlicrc is but one God iu three persons.

FARCES, AND SOTTIES. 209

Is it any -where said tliat \vc must believe your old prophets ( with whom your
memory seems overburdcued) to be more perfect than our gods ?

PXTROCLUS.

You must he very cunning to maintaiu impossibilities. Now listen to me : Is itpos-
sible that a virgin can bring forth a child without ceasing to be a virgin ?

nOMITIAN.

Will you not change these foolish sentiments ? Would you pervert us? Will you not
convert yourself? Lords! you perceive now very clearly what an obstinate fellow
this is ! Therefore let him be stripped and put luto a great caldron of bolliug oil. Let
iilm die at the Latin Gate.

PESART.

The great devil of hell fetch me if I don't Latinise him well. Never shall they hear
at tlie Latin Gate any one sing so well as he shall siug.

TORNEAU,

I dare venture to say he won't complain of being frozen.

TATROCLCS.

Frita, run quick ; bring wood and coals , and make the caldron ready.

FRITA.

I promise him, if he has the gout or the itch, he will soon get rid of them,

St. John dies a perfect martyr, resigned to the boiling oil and
gross jests of Patroclus and Longinus. One is astonished in the pre-
sent times at the excessive absurdity, and indeed blasphemy, which
the writers of these Moralities permitted themselves , and , what is
more extraordinary, w ere permitted by an audience consisting of a
whole town. An extract from the "Mystery of St. Denis" is in
the Duke dela Valli6re's "Biblioth6que du Theatre Frangois depuis
son origine : Diesde , 1768."

The emperor Domifian , irritated against the Christians , perse-
cutes them , and thus addresses one of his courtiers : —

Seigneurs Remains, j'ai entendu Roman lords, I understand

Que d'un crucifix, d'un peudu. That of a crucified, hanged man

On fait un Dieu par notre empire , They make a God in our kiuguom ,

Sans ce qu'on le nous daigne dire. Without even deigning to ask our per-

mission.

He then orders an officer to seize on Dennis in France. When
this officer arrives at Paris, the inhabitants acquaint him of the
rapid and grotesque progress of this future saint : —

Sire, il preche un Dieu a Paris Sir, he preaches a God at Paris

<Jul fait tout les monts etles vanls. Who has made mountain and valley.

11 va a clieval sans chevauls. He goes a horseback without horses.

II fait et defait tout ensemble. He does and undoes at ouce.

300 MYSTERIES , MORALITIES ,

11 vit il ineurt . il sue , il tremble. He lives , he dies , he sweats , lie trembles.

II pleure , il vit , il veille , et dort. He weeps , he laughs, he wakes, aud sleeps

11 est jeuue et vieux, foible et fort. He is youug and old, weak and strong.

11 fait d'un coq une poulette. He turns a cock into a hen.

11 joue des arts de roulette. He knows how to conjure with cup and

ball,

Ou je ne scais que ce pent etre. Or I do not know who this cau be.

Another of these admirers says , evidently alluding to the rite of
baptism , —

Sire , oyez que fait ce fol prestre : Sir, hear wliat this mad priest does :

II prend de I'yane en une escuele , He takes water out of a ladle ,

Et gete aux gens sur la cervele. And, throwing it at people's heads,

Et dit que partant , sont sauves ! He says that when they depart , they arc

saved i

This piece then proceeds toentertain thespectalors with the tortures
of St. Dennis , and at length , when more than dead , they merci-
fully behead him : the Saint, after his decapitation , rises very quietly,
takes his head under his arm , and walks off the stage in all the
dignity of martyrdom.

It is justly observed by Bayle on these wretched representations ,
that while they prohibited the people from meditating on the sacred
history in the book which contains it in all its purity and truth,
they permitted them to see it on the theatre sullied with a thousand
gross inventions , which were expressed in the most vulgar manner
and in a farcical style. Warton, with his usual elegance, observes,
"To those who are accustomed to contemplate the great picture
of human follies which the unpolished ages of Europe hold up to
our view, it will not appear surprising that the people who were
forbidden to read the events of the sacred history in the Bible, in
which they are faithfully and beautifully related , should at the same
time be permitted to see them represented on the stage disgraced
with the grossest improprieties , corrupted with inventions and
additions of the most ridiculous kind, sullied with impurities, and
expressed in the language and gesticulations of the lowest farce."
Elsewhere he philosophically observes that, however, they had
their use, " not only leaching the great truths of scripture to men
who could not read the Bible, but in abolishing the barbarous attach-
ment to military games and the bloody contentions of the tourna-
ment, which had so long prevailed as the sole species of popular
airmsement. llude, and even ridiculous as they were, they softened
the manners of the people by diverting the public attention to spec-
tacles in which the mind was concerned , and by creating a regard
for other arts than those of bodily strength and savage valour."

yV/j5fe/Ye5 arc to be distinguished from Moralilics , and Farces,

FARCES , AND SOTTIES. 301

and Softies. Moralities arc dialogues where llic inlerlocutors re-
presented feigned or uillegorical personages. Farces were more
exactly what their tide indicates — obscene, gross, and dissolute
representations , where both the actions and words arc ahke repre-
liensible.

The Sotties were more farcical than farce , and frequently had
the licentiousness of pasquinades. I shall give an ingenious speci-
men of one of the Moralities. This Morality is entitled '^The
Condemnation of Feasts , to the Praise of Diet and Sobriety for the
Benefit of the Human Body."

The perils of gormandising form the present subject. Towards
the close is a trial between Feasting and Supper. They are sum-
moned before Experience, the Lord Chief Justice I Feasting and
Slipper are accused of having murdered four persons by force of
gorging them. Experience condemns Feasting to the gallows,-
and his executioner is Diet. Feasting asks for a father-confessor,
and makes a public confession of so many crimes , such numerous
convulsions , apoplexies , head-aches , stomach-qualms , etc. which
he has occasioned , that his executioner Diet in a rage stops his
mouth , puts the cord about his neck , and strangles him. Supper
is only condemned to load his hands with a certain quantity of lead,
to hinder him from putting too many dishes on table : he is also
bound over to remain at the distance of six hours' walking from
Dinner under pain of death. Supper felicitates himself on his
escape , and sw ears to observe the mitigated sentence.

The Moralities were allegorical dramas, whose tediousness
seems to have delighted a barbarous people not yet accustomed to
perceive that what w as obvious might be omitted to great advantage :
like children , everything must be told in such an age •, their own
unexercised imagination cannot supply anything.

Of the Farces the licentiousness is extreme , but their pleasant-
ry and their humour are not contemptible. The " Village Lawyer,"
which is never exhibited on our stage without producing the broad-
est mirth , originates among these ancient drolleries. The humo-
rous incident of the shepherd, who having stolen his master's
sheep , is advised by his lawyer only to reply to his judge by mi-
micking the bleating of a sheep , and when the law yer in return
claims his fee , pays him by no other coin , is discovered in these
ancient farces. Bruyes got up the ancient farce of the " Patelin "
in 1702, and we borrowed it from him.

They had another species of drama still broader than Farce, and
more strongly featured by the grossness , the severity , and perso-
nality of satire : — these were called Sotties , of which the following

302 MYSTERIES, MORALITIES ,

one I find in tho Duke de la Vallitire's '' BibllotlKique du Th^lrc
Francois."

The actors come on the stage with their fools' -caps each wanting
the right ear, and begin with stringing satirical proverbs , till , after
drinking freely, they discover that their fools'-caps want the right
ear. They call on their old grand-mother Sottie (or Folly), who
advises them to take up some trade. She introduces this progeny of
her fools to the TForld , who takes them into his service. The
World tries their skill , and is much displeased with their work.
The CobleMool pinches his feel by making the shoes too small ;
the Tailor-ioo\ hangs his coat loo loose or too tight about him ^ the
PriesMooX says his masses either too short or too tedious. They all
agree thai the World docs not know what he wants , and must be
sick , and prevail upon him to consult a physician. The World
obligingly sends whal is required to a Urine-doctor, who instantly
pronounces that " the World is as mad as a March hare! " He
comes to visit his patient , and puis a great many questions on his
unhappy stale. The World replies , " that what most troubles his
head is the idea of a new deluge by fire , which must one day con-
sume him to a powder ; "' on which the physician gives this an-
swer : —

Et te troubles-tu pour cela ?
Monde, tu ne te troubles pas

Dc voir ces larrons attrapeurs
Vendre ct aclieter bentficesj
Les enfaus en bras des iiourrices ,
Estre Abbes, Eveques, Prieurs ,
Chevaucber tres bieu les deux soeurs ,
Tuer les gens pour leurs plalsirs,
Jouer le leur, I'autrui saisir,

Donner aux flatteurs audience ,
Faire la guerre a toute outrance
I'our un rien entre les cliresliens!

And you really trouble yourself about tliis?
Oh JVorld! you do not trouble yourself

about
Seeing those impudent rascals
Selling and buying livings j
Children in the arms of their nurses
Made Abbots, Bishops and Priors
Intriguing with girls,
Killlug people for their pleasures.
Minding their own interests , and seizing

on what belongs to another.
Lending their ears to flatterers,
Making war, exterminating war.
For a bubble, among christians!

The World takes leave of his physician , but retains his advice 5
and to cure his fits of melancholy gives himself up entirely to the
direction of his fools. In a word, the World dresses himself in the
coal and cap of Folly, and he becomes as gay and ridiculous as the
rest of the fools.

This Sottie was represented in the year 1524.

Such was the rage for mysteries , that Rene d'Anjou , King of
Naples and Sicily, and Counl of Provence, had them magnificenlly
represented and made them a serious concern. Being in Provence ,
and having received letters from his son the Prince of Calabria ,

FARCES, AND SOTTIES. 303

who asked him for an iinincdiale aid of men, he replied, thai ''he
had a very different matter in liand, for he was fully employed in
sellhng the order of a Mystery — in hunour of God.''

Strutt , in his " Manners and Customs of the English ," has given
a description of the stage in England when mysteries were the only
theatrical performances. Yol. iii. p. 130.

*•' In the early dawn of hterature, and when the sacred mysteries
were the only theatrical performances , what is now called the stage
did then consist of three several platforms , or stages raised one
above another. On the uppermost sat the Pater Ccelestis , surround-
ed w ith his Angels ; on the second appeared the Holy Saints , and
glorified men •, and the last and lowest was occupied fay mere men
who had not yet passed from this transitory life to the regions of
eternity. On one side of this lowest platform was the resemblance of
a dark pitchy cavern from whence issued appearance of fire and
flames \ and when it was necessary, the audience were treated with
hideous yellings and noises as imitative of the bowlings and cries of
the wretched souls tormented by the relentless demons. From this
yaw ning cave the devils themselves constantly ascended to delight
and to instruct the spectators: — to delight, because they were
usually the greatest jesters and buffoons that then appeared ; and to
instruct, for that they treated the wretched mortals who were
delivered to them with the utmost cruelty, warning thereby all men
carefully to avoid the falling into the clutches of such hardened and
remorseless spirits.' An anecdote relating to an English mystery
presents a curious specimen of the manners of our country, which
then could admit of such a representation ^ the simplicity, if not
the libertinism, of the age was great. A play was acted in one of
the principal cities of England, under tlic direction of the trading
companies of that city, before a numerous assembly of both sexes ,
wherein Adam and Ek'c appeared on the stage entirely naked ,
performed their whole part in the representation of Eden , to the
serpent's temptation, to the eating of the forbidden fruit, the
perceiving of, and conversing about their nakedness , and to the
supplying of fig-leaves to cover it. Warton observes they had the
authority of scripture for such a representation, and they gave
matters just as they found them in the third chapter of Genesis.
The following article will afford the reader a specimen of an Elegant
Molality.

LOYE AND FOLLY, AN ANCIENT BIORALITY.

One of the most elegant Moralities was composed by Louise
Labe ; the Aspasia of Lyons in 1550 , adored by her contemporaries,

304 LOVE AIND FOLLY,

With no extraordinary beauty , she however displayed the fasci-
nation of classical learning , and a vein of vernacular poclry refined
and fanciful. To accomplishments so various she added the singular
one of distinguishing herself by a mihtary spirit, and was nick-
named Captain Louise. She was a fine rider and a fine lutanist. Slic
presided in the assemblies of persons of literature and distinction.
Married to a rope-manufacturer, she was called La belle Covdicre ,
and her name is still perpetuated by that of the street she lived in.
Her anagram was Belle a soy. — But she was belle also for others.
Her Morals in one point were not correct , but her taste was never
gross : the ashes of her perishable graces may preserve themselves
sacred from our severity; but the productions of her genius may
still delight.

Her Morality entitled "D6batde Folie et d'Amour — the Contest
alLove and Folly ^^ is divided into five parts, and contains six
mythological or allegorical personages. This division resembles our
five acts , which , soon after the publication of this Morality, became
generally practised.

In the first part , Love and Folly arrive at the same moment at
the gate of Jupiter's palace, to join a festival to which he had invi-
ted the Gods. Folly observing Zov^e just going to step in at the hall ,
pushes him aside and enters first. Love is enraged, but Folly
insists on her precedency. Love , perceiving there was no reason-
ing with Folly, bends his bow and shoots an arrow; but she baffled
his attempt by rendering herself invisible. She in her turn becomes
furious , falls on the boy, tearing out his eyes , and then covers
them with a bandage which could not be taken off.

In the second part. Love , in despair for having lost his sight,
implores the assistance of his mother; she tries in vain to uniflo the
magic fillet; the knots are never to be unloosed.

In the third part , Venus presents herself at the foot of the throne
of Jupiter to complain of the outrage committed by Folly on her
son. Jupiter commands Folly to appear. — She replies , that though
she has reason to justify herself, she will not venture to plead her
cause , as she is apt to speak too nuich , or to omit what should be
said. jPoZ/jasks for a counsellor, and chooses Mercury; Apollo is
selected by Venus. The fourth part consists of a long dissertation
foetween Jupiter and Love, on the manner of loving. L^ove advises
Jupiter, if he wishes to taste of truest happiness , to descend on earth,
to lay down all his inojesty, and, in the figure of a mere mortal , to
please some beautiful maiden : "Then wilt thou feel quite another
contentment than that thou liasl hitherto enjoyed : instead of a single
pleasure it will be doubled ; for there is as much pleasure to be
loved as to love." Jupiter agrees that this may be true, but he

RELIGIOUS NOUVELLETTES. JO/.

thinks thai to attain this it requires too much time, too much
trouble, too many attentions, — and that after all it is not worlii
them.

In the fifth part , Apollo , the advocate for A enus , in a long plead-
ing demands justice against Folly. The Gods, seduced by his
eloquence, show by their indignation that they would condemn
Folly without hearing her advocate Mercury. Kut Jupiter com-
mands silence, and Mercury replies. His pleading is as long as the
adverse party's, and his arguments in favour oi Folly arc so plau-
sible , that when he concludes his address, the gods are divided in
opinion 5 some espouse the cause of Lo^e , and some that of Folly,
Jupiter, after trying in vain to make them agree together, pronounces
this award : —

"On account of the difficully and importance of your disputes
and the diversity of your opinions, we have suspended your contest
from this day to three times seven times nine centuries. In the
mean time we command you to live amicably together, without
injuring one another. Folly shall lead Lo\^e , and take him whi-
thersoever he pleases , and when restored to ^is sight, the Fates may
pronounce sentence."

Many beautiful conceptions are scattered in this elegant morality.
It has given birth to subsequent imitations ; it was too original and
playful an idea not to be appropriated by the poets. To this morality
we perhaps ow e the panegyric of Folly by Erasmus , and the Loye
and Folly of La Fontaine.

RELIGIOUS NOUVELLETTES.

I SHALL notice a class of very singular works, in which the
spirit of romance has been called in to render religion more attractive
to certain heated imaginations.

In the fifteenth century was published a little book of prayers ,
accompanied by figures, both of a very uncommon nature for a
reUgious publication. It is entitled Honulus Animce cum Ora-
tiujiculis aliquibus superadditis quce in prioribus Libris noii
habentur.

It is a small octavo en lettres Gothiques printed by John
Grunninger, 1500. " A garden,"' says the authors " which abounds
with flowers for the pleasure of the soul;" but they are full of
poison. In spite of his fine promises , the chief part of these medi-
tations are as puerile as they are superstitious. This we might excuse,
because the ignorance and superstition of the times allowed such
things ; but the figures v. hich accompany this work are to be
condemned in all ages ; one represents Saint Ursula and some of
1. 20

30G RELIGIOUS WOUVELLETTES.

her eleven thousand virgins , with all Ihe licentious inventions of
an Aretine. What strikes the ear does not so much irritate Ihe
senses , observes the sage Horace , as what is presented in all its
nudity to the eye. One of these designs is only ridiculous : David is
represented as examining Bathsheba bathing, while Cupid hover-
ing throws his dart, and with a malicious smile triumphs in his
success. We have had many gross anachronisms in similar designs.
There is a laughable picture in a village in Holland, in which
Abraham appears ready to sacrifice his son Isaac by a loaded blun-
derbuss 5 but his pious intention is entirely frustrated by an angel
urining in the pan. In another painting, the Virgin receives the
annunciation of the angel Gabriel with a huge chaplel of beads tied
round her waist, reading her own otTices, and kneeling before a
crucifix ; another happy invention , to be seen on an altar-piece at
Worms , is that in which the Virgin throws Jesus in the hopper of
a mill , while from the other side he issues changed into little mor-
sels of bread, with which the priests feast the people. Matthison , a
modern traveller, describes a picture in a church at Constance ,
called the Conception of the Holy Virgin. An old man lies on a
cloud, whence he darts out a vast beam, which passes through a
dove hovering just below; at the end of a beam appears a large
transparent egg, in vviiich egg is seen a child in swaddling clothes
w ith a glory round it. Mary sits leaning in an arm chair, and opens
her mouth to receive the egg,

I must not pass unnoticed in this article a production as extrava-
gant in its design , in which the author prided himself in discussing
three thousand questions concerning the Virgin Mary.

The publication now adverted to was not presented to the world
in a barbarous age and in a barbarous country , but printed at Paris
in 166S. 11 bears for title, DcU'ote salutation des Membres sncrcs
da Corps dc la Gloricuse ^ I'cri^c, Mr/r de Dicii. That is, '•'• A
Devout Salutation of the Holy Members of the Body of the Olorious
Virgin, Mother of God." 11 was printed and ])ublished with an
approbation and privilege ! which is more strange than the work
itself. Valois reprobates it in these Just terms : "■ What would Imio-
centXl. have done, after having abolished the shameful OlJice of
the Conception, Indu/gences , cic. if he had seen a volume in
which the impertinent devotion of that visionary monk caused to be
printed, with permission of his superiors. Meditations on all the
Parts of the Body of the Holy \ irgin? Keiigion , decency, and good
sense, are equally struck at by such an extravagance." I give a spe-
cimen of the most decent of these salutations.

RELIGIOUS NOUVELLETTES. 307

Salutation to the Hair.

" I salute you, charming hair of Maria! Rays of the mystical
sun ! Lines of the centre and circumference of all created perfection !
Veins of gold of the mine of love ! Chains of the prison of God I Roots
of the tree of life ! Rivulets of the fountain of Paradise I Strings of the
bow of charity ! Nets that caught Jesus , and shall be used in the
hunting-day of souls I"

Salutation to the Ears.

" I salute ye, intelligent ears of Maria! ye presidents of the
princes of the poor ! Tribunal for their petitions ^ salvation at the
audience of the miserable ! University of all divine wisdom! Recei-
vers general of all wards! Ye are pierced with the rings of our
chains^ ye are impearled with our necessities ! "

The images , prints , and miniatures , with which the catholic
religion has occasion to decorate its splendid ceremonies , have fre-
quently been consecrated to the purposes of love : they have been
so many votive offerings worthy to have been suspended in the
temple of Idalia. Pope Alexander \\ , had the images of the Virgin
made to represent some of his mistresses \ the famous Vanozza, his
favourite , was placed on the altar of Santa IMaria del Popolo 5 and
Julia Farnese furnished a subject for another Virgin. The same
genius of pious gallantry also visited our country. The statuaries
made the queen of Henry III. a model for the face of the Virgin
Mary. Hearn elsewhere alRrms , that the Virgin Mary was gene-
rally made to bear a resemblance to the queens of the age , which ,
no doubt, produced some real devotion among the courtiers.

The prayer-books of certain pious libertines were decorated with
the portraits of their favourite minions and ladies in the characters
of saints , and even of the Virgin and Jesus. This scandalous practice
was particularly prevalent in that reign of debauchery in France ,
when Henry III. held the reins of government with a loose hand.
In a missal once appertaining to the queen of Lewis XII. may be
seen a mitred ape , giving its benediction to a man prostrate before
it ; a keen reproach to the clergy of that day. Charles V. , however
pious that emperor affected to be , had a missal painted for his
mistress by the great Albert Durer, the borders of which are
crowded with extravagant grotesques, consisting of apes , who were
sometimes elegantly sportive , giving clysters to one another, and
in more offensive attitudes , not adapted to heighten the piety of
the Royal Mistress. This missal has two French verses written by
the Emperor himself , who does not seem to have been ashamed of

;i08 RELIGIOUS PvOU vELLETTES.

his present. Tlie Italians carried this lasle lo excess. The manners of
our country were more rarely tainted with this deplorable licen-
tiousness , although I have observed an iiuiocenl tendency towards
it , by examining the illuminated manuscripts of our ancient me-
trical romances : while we admire the vivid colouring of these
splendid manuscripts , the curious observer will perceive that
almost every heroine is represented in a state which appears incom-
patible with her reputation. Most of these works are , I believe , by
French artists.

A supplement might be formed to ri^ligious indecencies from the
Golden Legend, which abounds in them. Henry Stephens's Apology
for Herodotus might be likew ise consulted with effect for the same
purpose. There is a story of St. Mary the Egyptian , who was
perhaps a looser liver than Mary Magdalen ^ for not being able to
pay for her passage to Jerusalem , whither she w as going to adore
the holy cross and sepulchre , in despair she thought of an expe-
dient in lieu of payment to the ferryman , which required at least
going twice , instead of once , to Jerusalem as a penitenlial pil-
grimage. This anecdote presents the genuine character of certain
deuotees.

Melchior Inchoffer, a Jesuit , published a book to vindicate the
miracle of a Letier which the Virgin Mary had addressed to the
citizens of Messina : when Naud6 brought him positive proofs of its
evident forgery, Inchoffer ingenuously confessed the imposture,-
but pleaded that it was done by the orders of his superiors.

This same letter of the Virgin Mary was like a donation made
to her by Louis the Eleventh of the -whole county of Boulogne,
retaining, however, for his own use the rei^enues ! This solemn
act bears the date of the year 1478 , and is entitled , " Conveyancy
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. "

Maria Agreda , a religious visionary, w role die Life of the
Virgin. She informs us that she resisted the commands of God
and the holy Mary till the year 1637, when she began to compose
this curious rhapsody. When she had finished this original pro-
duction , her confessor advised her lo burn it ; she obeyed. Her
friends , however, who did not Ihink her less inspired than she in-
formed them she was , advised her lo rewrite the work. When
[trinled it spread rapidly from country to country : new editions
appeared at Lisbon , Madrid , Pcrpignan , and Antwerp. It was the
rose of Sharon for those climates. There arc so many pious absur-
dities in this book , which were found lo give such pleasure lo the

RELiGiOLS NOUVELLETTES. 309

devout , thai il was solemnly honoured wilh llic censure of the Sor-
bonne ; and il spread Ihc more.

The head of this lady was quite lurned hy her religion. In the
first six chapters she relates the visions of the A^irgin, which induced
her to write her own life. She begins the history al) ovo, as it may
be expressed ; for she has formed a narrative of w hat passed during
the nine months in which the Virgin was confined in llic womb of
her mother St. Anne. After the birth of 3iary she received an aug-
mentation of* angelic guards ; we have several conversations which
God held with the Virgin during the first eighteen months after her
birth. And it is in this manner she formed a cij-culati/ig novel ,
whicli dehghted the female devotees of the seventh century.

The worship paid to the Virgin Mary in Spain and Italy exceeds
that which is given to the Son or the Father. When they pray to
Mary, their imagination pictures a beautiful woman , they really
feel a passion; while Jesus is only regarded as a Bambino, or
infant at the breast, and the Father is hardly ever recollected ; bui
the JMadona, la Senhora, la Maria Santa, while she inspires
their religious inclinations , is a mistress to those w ho have none.

Of similar works there exists an entire race , and the libraries o^
the curious may yet preserve a shelf of these religious nouvellettes.
The Jesuits were the usual authors of these rhapsodies. I find an
account of a book which pretends to describe what passes iu
Paradise. A Spanish Jesuit published at Salamanca a volume in-
folio , 1652 , entitled Empyreoloa,ia. He dwells with great compla-
cency on the joys the celestial abode ^ there always will be music
in heaven with material instruments as our ears are already accus-
tomed to : otherwise he thinks the celestial music would not be
music for us I But another Jesuit is more particular in his accounts.
He positively assures us that we shall experience a supreme pleasure
in kissing and embracing the bodies of the blessed ; they will bathe
in the presence of each other, and for this purpose there are most
agreeable baths in which we shall svvim like fish ; that we shall all
warble as sweetly as larks and nightingales ; that the angels will
dress themselves in female habits, their hair curled; wearing petti-
coats and fardingales , and with the finest linen ; that men and
women will amuse themselves in masquerades , feasts , and balls. —
Women will sing more agreeably than men to heighten these en-
tertainments, and at the resurrection will have more luxuriant
tresses , ornamented with ribands and head-dresses as in this
life!

Such were the books once so devoutly studied , and which
doubtless were often literally understoood. How very bold must the
minds of the Jesuits have been , and how very humble tliose cX

310 RELIGIOUS KOUVELLETTES.

their readers , that such extravagancies should ever be published I
And yet, even to the time in which I am now writing, — even at
this day, — the same picturesque and impassioned pencil is employed
by the modern Apostles of Mysticism — the Swedenborghians , —
the Moravians , — the Methodists!

I find an account of another book of this class, ridiculous enough
to be noticed. It has for title, " The Spiritual Kalendar, composed
of as many Madrigals or Sonnets and Epigrams as there are days in
the year-, written for the consolation of the pious and the curious.
By Father G. Cortade, Austin Preacher at Bayonne, 1665." To
give a notion of this singular collection take an Epigram addressed
to a Jesuit , who, young as he was , used to put spurs under his
shirt to mortify the outer man ! The Kalendar-poet thus gives a
point to these spurs : —

11 ne pourra done plus ni ruer ni heunir
Sous le rude eperon dont tu fais son supplice;

Qui vit jamais tel artifice,
De piqiier un cheval pour le mieus retenir!

HUMBLY IMITATED.

Your body no more will neigh and will kick,
TJie point of the spur must eternally prick:
Wlioever contrived a thing with such skill ,
To keep spurring a horse to make him stand still!

One of the most extravagant works projected on the subject of the
Virgin Mary was the following : — The prior of a convent in Paris
had reiteratedly entreated Yarillas the historian 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.
Yarillas al 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 its
title to be Summa Dei-parcej and as Saint Thomas had made a
Sum, or System of Theology, so our monk had formed a System
of the Firgin! 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 Haltered 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

RELIGIOUS WOUVELLETfES. 311

some new diiTicullios ^ for it would be inhuman lo occasion so deep
a chagrin lo a man \\ho had reached his 74th year, as to inform
him of llie nature of his favourite occupations •, and that after his
death he should throw the seven folios into the fire.

"CRITICAL SAGACITY," AND "HAPPY CONJECTURE,"
OR, BENTLEY'S MILTON.

Benti.ey , long to wraDgliug schools coufiued,

Aud but by books acquaiuted wUli maukind

To Milton lending sense, to Horace wit,
Ue makes them write , what never jioet writ.

Dr. Bentley's edition of our English Homer is sulTioienlly
known by name. As it stands a terrifying beacon to conjectural «ri-
ticism , I shall just notice some of those violations which the learned
critic ventured to commit with all the arrogance of a Scaliger. This
man , so deeply versed in ancient learning , it w ill appear was des-
titute of taste and genius in his native language.

Our critic , to persuade the w orld of the necessity of his edition ,
imagined a fictitious editor of Milton's Poems : and it was Ihis
ingenuity which produced all his absurdities. As it is certain that
the blind bard employed an amanuensis , it was not improbable
that many w ords of similar sound , but very different signification ,
might have disfigured the poem ; but our Doctor was bold enough
to conjecture that this amanuensis interpolated whole verses of his
own composition in the "'Paradise Lost!" Having laid down this
fatal position , all the consequences of his folly naturally followed it.
Yet if there needs any conjecture, the more probable one will be, that
Milton , who was never careless of his future fame , had his poem
read to him after it had been published. The first edition apjjeared
in 1667, and the second in 1674 , in which all the faults of the for-
mer edition are continued. By {\\G?,eJaults , the Doctor means what
he considers to be such : for we shall soon sec that his "Canons
of Criticism " are apocryphal.

Bentley says that he will supply the want of manuscripts to collate
(lo use his own words) by his own "Sagacity," and "hapi'Y
Conjecture."

Milton , after the conclusion of Satan's speech lo the fallen angels,
proceeds thus : —

1. He spake : and to confirm his words out flew

2. Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs

3. Of mighty clierubira : the sudden blaze

•'». Far round illumiu'd hell; highly they rag'd

5. Against the Higlicst; aud fierce with grasped Aiims

6. Clash'd ou their sounding shields the din of war,

7. Hurling defiance tow'rd the vault of Heaven.

an CRITICAL SAGACITY,

In this passage , which is as perfect as human wit can make , the
Doctor alters three words. In the second line he puts blades ins-
lead oi swoj-ds^ in the fifth he puts swords instead oiarnis; and in
the last line he prefers walls to ^ault. All these changes are so
many defocdations of the poem. The word swords is far more poe-
tical than blades, which may as well be understood of knives as
swords. The word amis, the generic for the specific term, is still
stronger and nobler than swords; and the beautiful conception of
'Vault, which is always indefinite to the eye, while the solidity
of walls would but meanly describe the highest Heaven , gives an
idea of grandeur and modesty.

Milton writes, book i. v. 63 —

No light, but rather darkness visibf.k '

Served only to discover sights of woe.

Perhaps borrowed from Spenser : —

A little glooming light, much like a shade.

Faery Queen, b. i. c. 2. st. 14.

This fine expression of "darkness visible" the Doctor's cri-
tical sagacity has thus rendered clearer : —

" No light, but rather a TRANsricuous gloom."

Again our learned critic distinguishes the 74th line of the first
book —

As from the centre thrice to tlie utmost pole,

as " a vicious verse ," and therefore with " happy conjecture," and
no taste , thrusts in an entire verse of his own composition —

" Distance, which to express axl measure fails."

Milton writes —

Our torments, also, may iu leugth of time

Become our elements. B. ii. ver. 274.

Bentley corrects

" Then, AS WAS wem. observ'd , our torments may
Become our elements."

A curious instance how the insertion of a single prosaic expression
turns a fine verse into something worse than the vilest prose.

To conclude with one more instance of critical emendation :
Milton says, with an agreeable turn of expression , —

So parted they ; the angel up to heaven ,
From the thick shade ; and Adam to his bower,

IJentlcy "conjectures" these two verses to be inaccurate, and in
Jieu of the last writes —

AiND HAPPY CONJECTURE, etc. 313

" Adam, to ruminate on past discourse."

And then our erudite critic reasons ! as thus : —

After the conversation between the Angel and Adam in the bower,
it may be well presumed that our first parent waited on his hea-
venly guest at his departure to some little distance from it , till
he began to take his flight towards heaven 5 and therefore ''saga-
ciously" thinks that the poet could not with propriety say that
the Angel parted from the thich shade , that is , the bower, to go
to heaven. But if Adam attended the Angel no farther than the door
or entrance of the bower, then he shrewdly asks, "How Adam
CLfuld return to his bower if he was never out of it?"

Our editor has made a thousand similar corrections in his edi-
tion of Milton ! Some have suspected that the same kind intention
w hich prompted Dryden to persuade Creech to undertake a trans-
lation of Horace influenced those who encouraged our Doctor, in
thus exercising his "sagacity" and "happy conjecture" on the
epic of Milton. He is one of those learned critics who have happily
" elucidated their author into obscurity," and comes nearest to that
" true conjectural critic" whose practice a Portuguese satirist so
greatly admired : by w hich means , if he be only followed up by
future editors, we might have that immaculate edition, in which
little or nothing should be found of the original I

I have collected these few instances as not uninteresting to men
of taste 5 they may convince us that a scholar may be familiarised to
Greek and Latin, though a stranger to his vernacular Hteralure^
and that a verbal critic may sometimes be successful in his attempts
on a single word, though he may be incapable of tasting an entire
sentence. Let it also remain as a gibbet on the high roads of lite-
rature •, that "conjectural critics" as they pass may not forget
the unhappy fate of Bentley.

The following epigram appeared on this occasion : —

ON mii.ton's executioner.

Did Milton's prose , O Charles ! thy death defend ?

A furious foe, unconscious, proves a frieud ;

On Milton's verse does Bentley comment? know,

A weak officious frieud Ijecomes a foe.

While he would seem his author's fame to furtlier.

The murderous critic has aveng'd thy murder.

The classical learning of Bentley was singular and acute ^ but the
erudition of words is frequently found not to be allied to (he sen-
sibility of taste.

314- A JANSENIST DICTIONARY.

A JANSENIST DICTIONARY.

When L'Advocat published his concise Biographical Dictionary,
the Jansenists , the mcthodists of France , considered it as having
been written with a view to depreciate the merit of their friends.
The spirit of party is too soon alarmed. The Abbe Barral undertook
a dictionary devoted to their cause. In this labour, assisted by his
good friends the Jansenists , he indulged all the impetuosity and
acerbity of a splenetic adversary. The abbe was, however, an able
writer 5 his anecdotes arc numerous and well chosen ; and his style
is rapid and glowing. The work bears for title " Dictionnairc His-
torique , Litteraire et Critique des Hommes CeI6bres ," 6 vols. 8vo.
1759. It is no unuseful speculation to observe in what manner a
faction represents those who have not been its favourites : for this
purpose I select the characters of Fenelon , Cranmer, and Luther.
Of Fenelon they write, " He composed for the instruction of the
Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berri, several works-, amongst
others , the Telemachus — a singular book, which partakes at once
of the character of a romance and of a poem, and which substitutes
a prosaic cadence for versification. But several luscious pictures
would not lead us to suspect that this book issued from the pen of
a sacred minister for the education of a prince \ and what we arc
told by a famous poet is not improbable , that Fenelon did not com-
pose it at court, but that it is the fruits of his retreat in his diocese.
And indeed the amours of Calypso and Eucharis should not be the
first lessons that a minister ought to give his scholars ; and, besides,
the fine moral maxims which the author attributes to the Pagan
divinities are not well placed in their mouth. Is not this rendering
homage to the demons of the great truths which we receive from
the Gospel , and to despoil J. C. to render respectable the annihi-
lated gods of paganism? This prelate was a wretched divine, more
familiar with the light of profane authors than with that of the
fathers of the church. Phelipeaux has given us, in his narrative of
'Quietism,' the portrait of the friend of Madame Guyon. This
archbishop has a lively genius , artful and supple , which can flatter
and dissimulate , if ever any could. Seduced by a woman , he was
solicitous to spread his seduction. He joined to the politeness and
elegance of conversation a modest air, which rendered him amiable.
He spoke of spirituality with the expression and the enthusiasm of
a prophet ; with such talents he flattered himself that every thing
would yield to him."

In this work the Protestants , particularly the first Reformers ,
find no quarter ; and thus virulently their rabid Catholicism exults
over the hapless end of Cranmer, the first protestant archbishop : —

A JANSENIST DICTIONARY. 315

"Thomas Cranmcr married the sister of Osiander. As Henry VIII.
detested married priests , Cranmcr kept this second maria^c in pro-
found secrecy. This action serves to show the character of this great
reformer, who is the hero of Burnet , whose history is so much es-
teemed in England. What bUndness to suppose him an Alhanasius ,
who was at once a Lutheran secrelly married , a consecrated arch-
bishop under the Roman pontiff whose power he detested , saying
the mass in which he did not believe , and granting a power to say
it ! The divine vengeance burst on this sycophantic courtier, who
had always prostituted his conscience to his fortune."

Their character of Luther is quite Lutheran in one sense , for
Luther was himself a stranger to moderate strictures : —

" The furious Luther, perceiving himself assisted by the credit
of several princes , broke loose against the church with the most in-
veterate rage , and rung the most terrible alarum against the pope.
According to him we should have set fire to every thing , and re-
duced to one heap of ashes the pope and the princes who supported
him. Nothing equals the rage of this phrenetic man , who was not
satisfied with exhaling his fury in horrid declamations , but who was
for putting all in practice. He raised his excesses to the height by
inveighing against the vow of chastity, and in marrying publicly Ca-
therine de Bore, a nun , whom he enticed , with eight others, from
their convents. He had prepared the minds of the people for this
Infamous proceeding by a treatise which he entitled ' Examples of
the Papistical Doctrine and Theology,' in which he condemns the
praises which all the saints had given to continence. He died at
length quietly enough , in 1546 , at Isleben , his country place —
God reserving the terrible effects of his vengeance to another life."

Cranmer, who perished at the stake, these fanatic religionists
proclaim as an example of *•' divine vengeance •, " but Luther, the
true parent of the Reformation, " died quietly at Isleben : " this
must have puzzled their mode of reasoning ^ but they extricate them-
selves out of the dilemma by the usual way. Their curses are never
what the lawyers call " lapsed legacies,"

MANUSCRIPTS AND BOOKS.

It would be no uninteresting literary speculation to describe the
difilcullies which some of our most favourite works encountered in
their manuscript stale, and even after they had passed through the
press. Sterne , when he had finished his first and second volumes of
Tristram Shandy, offered them to a bookseller at York for fifty
pounds ; but was refused : he came to town with his MSS. 5 and he
and Robert Dodsley agreed in a manner of which neither repented.

3!<i AJAINUSCRIPTS AIND BOOKS.

The Rosciad , wilh all i(s merit , lay for a considerable lime in a
dormant slate , (ill Churchill and his publisher became impatient ,
and almost hopeless of success. — Burn's Justice was disposed of by
its author , who was weary of soliciting booksellers to purchase the
MS. , for a trifle , and it now yields an annual income. Collins burnt
his odes before the door of his publisher. The publication of
Dr. Blair's Sermons was refused by Shahan , and the " Essays
on the Immutability of Truth ," by Dr. Beattie , could find no
publisher, and was printed by two friends of the author, at their
joint expense.

" The sermon in Tristram Shandy " (says Sterne , in his preftice
to his Sermons) " was printed by itself some years ago, but could
find neither purchasers nor readers." When it was inserted in his
eccentric work , it met with a most favourable reception , and oc-
casioned the others to be collected.

Joseph Warlon writes, " When Gray pubhshed his exquisite Ode
on Eton College , his first publication , httle notice was taken of it."
The Polyeucte of Corneille , which is now accounted to be his mas-
ter-piece , when he road it to the literary assembly held at the Hotel
de Rambouillet, was not approved. Yoiture came the next day and
in gentle terms acquainted him with the unfavourable opinion
of the critics. Such ill judges were then the most fashionable wits of
Erance.

It was with great difficulty that Mrs. Cenllivre could get her
" Busy Body" performed. Wilks threw down his part with an oath
of detestation — our comic authoress fell on her knees and wept. —
Her tears, and not her wit, prevailed.

A pamphlet published in the year 1738 , entitled " A Letter to
the Society of Booksellers , on the Method of forming a true Judg-
ment of the Manuscripts of Authors ," contains some curious literary
intelligence , and is as follows :

"■ We have known books ," says our writer, " (hat in the MS.
have been damned , as well as others which seem to be so , since .
after their appearance in the world , they have often lain by neg-
lected. Witness the ' Paradise Lost' of the famous Milton , and the
Optics of Sir Isaac Newton, which last, 'tis said, had no character
or cHidit here till noticed in France. ' Tlie Historical Connection of
the Old and New Testament ,' by Shuckford , is also reported to
have been seldom inquired after for about a twelvemonth's time ]
however, it made a shift , though not without some difficulty, to
creep up to a second edition , and afterwards even to a third. And ,
which is another remarkable instance , the manuscript of Dr. Pri-
deaux's ' Coimeclion ' is well known to have been bandied about
from hand to hand among several , at least live or six , of the mosi

MAJNU SCRIPTS AW I) liOOKS. Ml

cniinent booksellers, durinii llie space of at least two years, lo no
purpose, none of Ihein underlaking to print that excellent work, it
lay in obscurity, till Archdeacon Echard, the author's friend, strong-
ly recommended it to Tonson. It was purchased , and th(! publica-
tion was very successful. Robinson Crusoe's manuscript also ran
through the whole trade , nor would any one print it , though the
writer, De Foe , was in good repute as an author. One bookseller at
last, not remarkable for liis discernment, but for his speculative
turn , engaged in this publication. T/ds bookseller got above a
thousand guineas by it ; and the booksellers are accumulating money
every hour by editions of this work in all shapes. The undertaker of
the translation of Rapin , after a very considerable part of the work
had been pubhshed, was not a little dubious of its success , and was
strongly inclined to drop the design. It proved at last to be a most
profitable literary adventure." It is, perhaps, useful to record, that
while the fine compositions of genius and the elaborate labours of
erudition are doomed to encounter these obstacles to fame, and never
are but slightly remunerated, works of another description are re-
warded in the most princely manner ; at the recent sale of a book-
seller, the copyright of " Vyse's Spelling-book" was sold at the
enormous price of 2,200/. ; with an annuity of 50 guineas to the
author !

THE TURKISH SPY.

Whatever may be the defects of the " Turkish Spy," the author
has shown one uncommon merit , by having opened a new spe-
cies of composition , which has been pursued by other w Titers w ith
inferior success , if we except the charming " Persian Letters " of
Montesquieu. The " Turkish Spy" is a book which has delighted
our childhood , and to which we can still recur with pleasure. But
its ingenious author is unknown to three parts of his admirers.

In Boswell's " Life of Johnson" is this dialogue concerning the
writer of the " Turkish Spy." " B.— Pray, Sir, is ' Turkish Spy ' a
genuine book? J. — No, Sir, Mrs. Manley, in her ' Life ,' says, that

her father wrote the two first 'volumes ,• and in another book

' Dunton's Life and Errours ,' we find that the rest was written by
one Sauk, at two guineas a sheet, under the direction of Dr. Midge-
ley"

I do not know on what authority Blrs. Manley advances that her
father was the author ; but this lady was never nice in detailing facts.
Dunton, indeed, gives some observation in a very loose manner. He
tells us , p. 242 , that it is probable , by reasons which he insinuates,
that one Bradshaw , a hackney author, was the writer of the
'' Turkish Spy." This man probably was engaged by Dr. Midgelcy

m THE TURKISH SPY.

to translate the volumes as they appeared , at the rate of 40s. per
sheet. On the whole , all this proves , at least , how lillle the author
w as known w hile the volumes were publishing and that he is as lillle
known at present by the extract from Boswell.

The ingenious writer of the Turkish Spy is John Paul Marana,
an Italian ; so that the Turkish Spy is just as real a personage as
Cid Hamet , from whom Cervantes says he had his " History of
Don Quixote." Marana had been imprisoned for a poUtical conspi-
racy ; after his release he retired to Monaco , where he wrote the
'• History of the Plot , " which is said to be valuable for many cu-
rious particulars. Marana was at once a man of letters and of the
world. He had long wished to reside at Paris •, in that emporium
of taste and luxury his talents procured him patrons. It was during
his residence there that he produced his ^ Turkish Spy." By this
ingenious contrivance he gave the history of the last age. He dis-
plays a rich memory, and a lively imagination ; but critics have
said that he touches every thing , and penetrates nothing. His first
three volumes greatly pleased : the rest are inferior. Plutarch , Se-
neca , and Pliny, were his favourite authors. He lived in philoso-
phical mediocrity; and in the last years of his life retired to his
native country, where he died in 1693.

Charpentier gave the first particulars of this ingenious man.
Even in his time (he volumes were read as they came out , while its
author remained unknown. Charpcntier's proof of the author is in-
disputable ; for he preserved the following curious certificate , writ-
ten in Marana's own hand-writing.

"I, the under-written John Paul Marana, author of a manu-
script Italian volume, entitled ' L'Esploratore Turco, tomo terzo,
acknowledge that Mr. Charpentier , appointed by the Lord Chan-
cellor to revise the said manuscript , has not granted me his certi-
ficate for printing the said manuscript , but on condition to rescind
four passages. The first beginning, etc. By this I promise to sup-
press from the said manuscript the places above marked , so that
there shall remain no vestige \ since , without agreeing to this , the
said certificate would not have been granted to me by the said
Mr. Charpentier \ and for surety of the above , which I acknowledge
to be true, and which I promise punctually to execute, I have sign-
ed the present writing. Paris, 28th September, 1686.

" John Paul Marana."

This paper serves as a curious instance in what manner the cen-
sors of books clipped the wings of genius when it was found too
daring or excursive.

These rcscindings of the Censor appear to be marked by Marana

THE TURKISH SPY. 3J9

in Ihe printed work. Wo find more than once chasms, with tliesc
words : '' the beginning of t/iis letter is wanting in the Itahan tran-
slation; the oj/gi/uil paper beina; turn."

No one has yet taken the pains to observe the date of the first
editions of the French and the Enghsh Turkish Spies , w hich would
settle the disputed origin. It appears by the document before us ,
to have been originally written in Italian , but probably was first
published in French. Does tlie English Turkish Spy differ from the
French one?

SPENSER , JONSON , AND SHAKSPEARE.

The characters of these three great masters of Enghsh poetry are
sketched by Fuller, in his '" Worthies of England.' It is a literary
morsel that must not be passed by. The criticisms of those who liv-
ed in or near the limes when authors flourished merit our obser-
vation. They sometimes elicit a ray of intelligence , which later
opinions do not always give.

He observes on Spe.nser — "The many Chaacerisms used (for
I will not say affected by him) are thought by the ignorant to be
blemishes , known by the learned to be beauties, to his book;
which, notwithstanding, had been more saleable, if more con-
formed to our modern language."'

On .ToNSON. — •• His parts were not so ready to run of themselves,
as able to answ er the spur ; so that it may be truly said of him ,
that he had an elaborate wit, wrought out by his own industry.
— He would sit silent in learned company, and suck in ( besides
wine) their several humours into his observation. What was ore
in others , he was able to refine himself.

" He was paramount in the dramatic part of poetry , and taught
the stage an exact conformity to the laws of comedians. His come-
dies were above the folge (which are only tickled with downright
obscenity), and took not so well at the ^r^f stroke as at the re-
bound , when beheld the second time ; yea , they w ill endure read-
ing so long as either ingenuity or learning are fashionable in our
nation. If his latter be not so spriteful and vigorous as his first pieces
all that are old w ill , and all who desire to be old should , excuse
him therein."

On Shakspeare. — " He was an eminent instance of the truth
of that rule, poeta non fit, sed nascitur ; one is not made, but
born a poet. Indeed his learning was but very little : so that as
Cornish diamonds are not polished by any lapidary, but are point-
ed and smoothed , even as they are taken out of the earth , so ISa-
ture itself was all the art which was used upon him.

320 SPENSER, JONSON, AND SHARSPEARE.

"Many were the wit-combats belwixl him and Ben Jonsoii ,
which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon , and an English
man of war. Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher
in learning 5 solid, but slow in his performances. Shahspeare ,
with an English man of war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing ,
could turn with all tides , and take advantage of all winds, by the
quickness of his wit and invention."

Had these " Wit-combats ," between Shakspeare and Jonson ,
which Fuller notices , been chronicled by some faithful Boswell of
the age , our literary history would have received an interesting
accession. A letter has been published by Dr. Berkenhout relating
to an evening's conversation between our great rival bards , and
Alleyn the actor. Pecle, a dramatic poet, writes to his friend Mar-
low, another poet. The Doctor unfortunately in giving this copy did
not recollect his authority.

" FRIEND MARLOW,

" I never longed for thy companye more than last night : we were
all very merrye at the Globe , where Ned Alleyn did not scruple to
aflirme pleasantly to thy friend Will , that he had stolen his speeche
about the quality es of an actor's excellencye in Hamlet his Tragedye,
from conversations many fold which had passed between them , and
opinyons given by Alleyn touchinge this subject. Shakspeare did
not take this talk in good sorte ^ but Jonson put an end to the strife,
by wittylie remarking , — this alfaire needeth no contention : you
stole it from Ned , no doubt , do not marvel ; have you not seen him
act times out of number? "

This letter is one of those ingenious forgeries which the late
George Steevens practised on the literary antiquary ; tliey were not
always of this innocent cast. The present has been frequently quoted
as an original document. I have preserved it as an example o{ Lite-
rary Forgeries , and the danger which literary historians incur by
such nefarious practices.

BEN JONSON, FELTHAM, AND RANDOLPH.

Ben Jonson , like most celebrated wits , was very unfortunate in
conciliating the affections of his brother writers. He certainly pos-
sessed a great share of arrogance, and was desirous of ruling the
realms of Parnassus with a despotic sceptre. That he was not always
successful in his theatrical compositions is evident from his abusing ,
in their lille-page, the aclors and the public. In this he has boiMi
imitated by Fielding. I have collected the (ollowing three satiric

15EW JONSON. lELTHAM, AND RAINUOLFII. m

i)des, wriUen when the roceplion df his '■'■ New Inn , or The Litylu
Heart," warmly exasperated the irritable disposiiion of our poet.

He printed tlie title in the ioUowing manner :

'' ISe^v Inn , or The Light Ileait; a Comedy never acted, but
most negligently played by some , the King's servants ; and more
squeamishly beheld and censured by others, the King's subjects
1629. Now at last set at liberty to the readers , his Majesty's servants
and subjects , to be judged , 1031."

At the end of this play he published the following Ode , in which
he threatens to quit the stage for ever ; and turn at once a Horace
an Anacreon , and a Pindar.

" The just indignation the author took at the vulgar censure of
his play, begat this following Ode lo himself :

Come, leave the loathed stage ,
Aud the more loathsome age-
Wliere pride and impudeuce (in fashion knit)

Usurp the chair of wit
Inditing and arraigning every day
Something they call a play.
Let their fastidious, vaine
Commission of Lrainc
^ Run on, and rage, sweat, censure, aud condemn ;

They were not made for thee, — less thou for them.
Say that thou pour'st them wheat,
Aud tliey will acorns eat ;
'Twere simple fury, still, thyself to waste

On such as have no taste !
To offer them a surfeit of pure bread,
Wliose appetites are dead!
No , give them graines their fill,
Husks, draff, to drink aud swill.
If they love lees, and leave tlie lusty wine ,
Envy them not their palate with the swine.

No doubt some mouldy tale

Like I'ericles ', and stale
As the shrieve's crusts, and nasty as his fish.

Scraps, out of every dish
Thrown forth, and rak't into the common-tub,

May keep up the play-club :
There sweepings do as well
As the best order'd meale.
For who the relish of these guests will fit,
Needs set them but the almes-ba&ket of wit.

And much good do't you then ,
Brave plush and velvet mcu
Can feed on orts, aud safe in your stage clotiics ,
Dare quit, upon your oathes ,

' J'liis play, Laiigbaine says, is written by Sliakspcaic.

322 B!,N JONSON, FELTIIAM, AND RANDOLPH

Tlie stagiTS, ami flif staj;? wriglits too (your jiccrs ),
Of larding your large ears
With tbeir foul comic socks ,
Wrought upon twenty blocks :
Which, if tliey're torn, auJ turn'd, and patch' J enough,
The gamesters share your guilt, aad you their sluff.

Leave things so prostitute ,
And take the Alcasick lute.
Or thine own Horace , or Anacrcou's lyre ;

Warm thee by Pindar's fire;
And, tbo' thy nerves be shrunk, aiul bhrnd I)e cold.
Ere years have made thee old,
Strike that disdainful heat
Throughout, to their defeat ;
As curious fools, and envious of thy strain ,
May , blushing , swear no palsy's in thy brain ' .

But when they hear thee sing
Tlie glories of thy King ,
His zeal to God , and , his just awe o'er men

They may blood-shaken then.
Feel such a flesh-quake to possess tlicir powers,
As they shall cry like ours,
In souud of peace, or wars,
No harp ere hit the stars,
lu tuning forth the acts of his sweet reign ,
And raising Charles his chariot 'hove his wain.

This Magisterial Ode, as Langbaine calls it, was answered by
Owen Felt/lam, author of the admirable " Resolves," who has
written with great satiric acerbity the retort corteous- His character
of this poet should be attended to : —

AN ANSWER TO THE ODE, COMK lEAVE 'I HE tOATHED STAGE, CtC.

Come leave this sawcy way
Of baiting those that pay
Dear for the sight of your declining wit :

'Tis known it is not fit
That A stale poet , just contempt once thrown.
Should cry up thus is own.
I wonder by what dower.
Or patent , you had power
■ From all to rape a judgment. Lct't sufGcc,
Had you been modest, y 'ad been granted wise.

'Tis known you can do Mell,

And that you do exccll
As a translator; but when things require

A genius , and fire.
Not kindled heretofere by other pains ,

As oft y'ave wanted brains

' He liad llic palsy at lliat time.

BEN JONSON, FELTHAM, AND RANDOLPH. 323

And art to strike the white,

As you have levell'd right :
Tet if meu voucli not tilings apocryphal,
You bellow, rave, and spatter round your gall.

Jug, Pierce , Peek, Fly ', and all

Your jests so nominal.
Arc things so far beneath an able brain ,

As they do throw a stain
Thro' all th' unlikely plot , and do displease

As deep as PEBrcLES.

Wliere yet there is not laid

Before a chamber-maid
Discourse so weigh'd ' , as might have serv'd of old
For schools , when they of love and valour told.

Why rage , then ? when the siiow
Should judgment be, and know-'
ledge, there are plush wlio scorn to drudge

For stages, yet can judge
Not only poets looser lines , but wits ,
And all their perquisits ;
A gift as rich as high
Is noble poese :
Yet, tho' iu sport it be for Kings to play,
'Tis next mechanicks' when it works for pay.

Alcaeus lute had none ,
Nor loose Anacreon
E'er taught so bold assuming of the bays

When they deserv'd no praise.
To rail men into^pprobation
Is new to your's alone :
And prospers not : for know,
Fame is as coy , as you
Can be disdainful; and who dares to prove
A rape on her shall gather scorn, — not love.

Leave then this humour vain ,
And this more humorous strain,
Where self-conceit, and choler of the blood,

Eclipse what else is good :
Then, if you please those raptures liigh to touch ,
Whereof you boast so much :
And but forbear your crown
Till the world puts it on :
No doidit, from all you may amazement draw ,
Since braver theme no Phoebus ever saw.

To console dejected Ben for this just reprimand , Randolph , one

■ The names of several of Jbnson's Dramatis Personse.
' New Inn, Act iii. Scene 2. — Act iv. Scene 4.

' This break was purposely designed by the poet , to expose that singular
one in Ben's third stanza.

324 BEN JONSON, FELTHAM , AIND RANDOLPH

of the adopted poetical sons of Jonson, addressed liim with all that
warmth of grateful affection which a man of genius should have
felt on the occasion.

AN ANSWER TO MR. BEN JONSON's ODE, TO TEllSUADE HIM NOT TO LEAVE THE STAGE.

I.

Beu , do not leave the stage
Cause 'tis a loathsome age ^
For pride and impudence will grow too bold ,

When they sliall hear it told
They frighted thee : Stand high , as is thy cause ;
Their hiss is thy applause ;
More just were thy disdain ,
Had they approved thy vein :
So thou for them , and they for thee were born ;
They to incense , and thou as much to scorn.

II.

AVilt thou engross thy store
Of wheat , and pour no more ,
Because their bacoa-brains had such a tastt

As more delight in mast :
No ! set them fortli a board of dainties , full
As thy best muse can cull;
Whilst they the while do pine
And thirst, midst all their wine.
What greater plague can hell itself devi.se,
Tlian to be willing thus to tantalize ?

III. ^

Thou canst not find them stuff,
Tliat will be bad cnoiigli
To please their pallatcs : let 'em them refuse ,

For some pye-coruer muse;
Slie is too fair an hostess , 'twere a sin
For tliem to like thine Inn :
'Twas made to entertain
Guests of a nobler strain ;
Yet , if they M'ill have any of the store,
Give them some scraps, and scud them from tliy dore

IV.

And let those things in plush

Till they l)e taught to blush.
Like wliat they will , and more contented be

With what Broom ' swept from tliee.
I know thy worth , and tliat tliy lofty strains
Write not to cloatlis, but brains :

' His man , Riciiard Rroomc , wrote willi success several comedies. He had
heen tho amanuensis or attendant of Jonson. TJie epigram made against Pope
for the assistance W. I3roonie gave; him appears to liave been borrowed from
this pun. Johnson has inserted it iti " Uroome's Life."

BEJN JONSON, 1-ELTHAM, AWD KAINDOLPH. 325

But thy great spleeu dolh rise ,

'Cause moles will have no eyes :
This ouly iu my Brn I faulty find ,
He's angry tliey'll not see him tliat are blind.

Why shou'd the scene be mute
Cause thou canst touch the lute
And string tliy Horace? Let cacli Muse of uiuo

Claim thee, and say, th' art mine.
'Twere foud , to let all other flames expire ,
To sit by Pindar's' fire :
For by so strange neglect
I should myself suspect
Thy palsie ' were as well thy brain's disease ,
If tliey could shake thy muse which way they please.

VI.

And tho' thou well canst sing
The glories of tliy King,
And on the wings of verse his chariot J)ca;-

To heaven , and fix it there ;
Yet let thy muse as well some raptures raise
To please him, as fo praise.
I would not have thee chuse
Only a treble muse 5
But have this envious, ignorant age to know ,
Thou that canst sing so high , canst reacli as low.

ARIOSTO AND TASSO.

It surprises one to find among the literary Italians the merifs of
Arioslo most keenly disputed : slaves to classical authority , they
bend down to the majestic regularity of Tasso. Yet the father of
Tasso , before his son had rivalled the romantic Arioslo , describes
in a letter the effect of the " Orlando " on the people : — " There
is no man of learning , no mechanic , no lad , no girl , no old man ,
who are satisfied to read the ' Orlando Furioso once. This poem
serves as the solace of the traveller, who fatigued on his journey
deceives his lassitude by chanting some octaves of this poem. You
may hear them sing these stanzas in the streets and in the fields
every day." One would have expected that Ariosto would have been
the favourite of the people , and Tasso of the critics. But in Venice
the gondoliers , and others , sing passages which are generally taken
from Tasso, and rarely from Ariosto. A different fate, I imagined,
would have attended the poet wIk) has been distinguished by the
epithet of " The Divined I have been told by an Italian man of
letters , that this circumstance arose from the relation w hich Tasso's

' IIcIkkI ihe palsy at tliat time.

32G ARIOSTO AND TASSO.

poem bears to Turkish affairs ; as many of liie common people have
passed into Turkey, either by chance or by war. Besides, the long
antipathy existing between the Venetians and the Turks gave addi-
tional force to the patriotic poetry of Tasso. We cannot boast of any
similar poems. Thus it was that the people of Greece and Ionia
sang the poems of Homer.

The Academia della Crusca gave a public preference to Ariosto.
This irritated certain critics , and none more than Chapelain , who
could taste the regularity of Tasso , but noi feel the " brave dis-
order " of Ariosto. He could not approve of those writers,

" Who inatch a grace beyond the reach of art."

" I thank you ," he writes , for the sonnet which your indigna-
tion dictated, at the Academy's preference of Ariosto to Tasso. This
judgment is overthrown by the confessions of many of the Crus-
caiiti, my associates. It would be tedious to enter into its discus-
sion ; but it was passion and not equity that prompted that decision.
We confess , that , as to what concerns invention and purity of lan-
guage , Ariosto has eminently the advantage over Tasso 5 but ma-
jesty, pomp, numbers , and a style truly sublime , united to regu-
larity of design, raise the latter so much above the other that no
comparison can fairly exist."

The decision of Chapelain is not unjust ^ though I did not know
that Ariosto's language was purer than Tasso's.

Dr. Cocchi , the great Italian critic , compared " Ariosto's poem
to the richer kind of harlequin's habit , made up of pieces of the
very best silk , and of the liveliest colours. The parts of it are, many
of them , more beautiful than in Tasso's poem , but the whole
in Tasso is without comparison more of a piece and better
made." The critic was extricating himself as safely as he could
out of this critical dilemma ; for the disputes were then so violent ,
that I think one of the disputants took to his bed , and was said to
have died of Ariosto and Tasso.

It is the conceit of an Italian to give the name of April io Arios-
to, because it is the season o[ flowers^ and that o{ September to
Tasso , which is that otKJruits. Tiraboschi judiciously observes (hat
no comparison ought to be made between these great rivals. It is
comparing "Ovid's Metamorphoses" with "Virgil's iEneid ^ "
they are quile diflerent things. In his characters of the two poets,
he distinguishes between a romantic poem and a regular epic. Their
designs required distinct perfections. But an English reader is not
enabled by the wretched versions of lloolc to echo the verse of La
Fontaine, " Je chekis I'Arioste ct J'estime Le Tasse."

lioileau, some time before his death, was asked by a critic if he

ARIOSl'O AW I) I'ASSO. 327

had repenlod of his celebrated decision concerning Ihc merits of
Tasso, whom some IlaUans liad compared with tliose of Virgil?
Boilcau had Imrled liis bolts al these viohUors of classical majesty.
It is supposed that he was ignorant of the Italian language , but
some expressions in his answer may induce us to think that he was
not.

" I have so little changed my opinion, that on a /y/x'/v/ayz/ lately
of Tasso , I was sorry that I had not more amply explained myself
on this subject in some of my reflexions on ' Longinus.' I should
liave begun by acknowledging that Tasso had a sublime genius , of
great compass, with happy dispositions for the higher poetry. liut
when I came to the use he made of his talents, I should have shown
that judicious discernment rarely prevailed in his works. That in the
greater portion of his narrations he attached himself to the agree-
able oftener than to the just. That his descriptions arc almost always
overcharged with superfluous ornaments. That in painting the
strongest passions , and in the midst of the agitations they excite ,
frequently he degenerates into witticisms , which abruptly destroy
the pathetic. That he abounds with images of too florid a kind ;
alTected turns ; conceits and frivolous thoughts ; which , far from
being adapted to his Jerusalem , could hardly be supportable in his
' Aminta.' So that all this , opposed to the gravity, the sobriety, the
majesty of Virgil , what is it but tinsel compared w ith gold? "

The merits of Tasso seem here precisely discriminated ; and this
criticism must be valuable to the lovers of poetry. The errors of
Tasso were national.

In Venice the gondoliers know by heart long passages from Ariosto
and Tasso, and often chant them with a peculiar melody. Goldoni ,
in his hfe, notices the gondolier returning wi[h him to the city :
'" He turned the prow of the gondola towards the city, singing all
the way the twenty-sixth stanza of the sixteenth canto of the Jeru-
salem delivered. ' The late IMr. Barry once chanted to me a passage
of Tasso in the manner of the Gondoliers :, an anonymous gentleman
has greatly obliged me with his account of the recitation of these
poets by the gondoliers of Venice.

There are always two concerned, who alternately sing the strophes.
We know the melody eventually by Rousseau , to whose songs it
is printed; it has properly no melodious movement, and is a sort
of medium between the canto fermo and the canto tiguralo ; it ap-
proaches to the former by recitalivical declamation , and to the lat-
ter by passages and course , by which one syllabbe is detained and
embellished.

I entered a gondola by moonlight : one singer placed himself
forwards , and the other afi , and thus proceeded to St. Giorgio.

32S AP.IOSTO AIND TASSO.

One began Ihe song : when he had ended his strophe the other took
up the lay, and so continued the song ailernatcly. Throughout the
\Yhole of it , the same notes invariably returned , but according to
the subject-matter of the strophe, they laid a greater or a smaller
stress , sometimes on one , and sometimes on another note , and
indeed changed the enunciation of the whole strophe, as the object
of the poem altered.

On the whole, however, their sounds were hoarse and screaming .
they seemed, in the manner of all rude uncivilised men, to make
Ihc excellency of their singing consist in the force of their voice :
one seemed desirous of conquering the other by the strength of his
lungs, and so far from receiving delight from this scene (shut up
as I was in the box of the gondola ) , I found myself in a very un-
pleasant situation.

My companion , to whom I communicated this circumstfince ,
being very desirous to keep up the credit of his countrymen , as-
sured me that this singing was very delightful when heard at a dis-
tance. Accordingly we got out upon the shore , leaving one of the
singers in the gondola, while the other went to the distance of some
hundred paces. They now began to sing against one another 5 and
I kept walking up and down between them both , so as always to
leave him who was to begin his part. I frequently stood still , and
hearkened to the one and to the other.

Here the scene was properly introduced. The strong declamatory,
and , as it were , shrieking sound , met the ear from far, and called
forth the attention ; the quickly succeeding transitions , which ne-
cessarily required to be sung in a lower tone seemed like plaintive
strains succeeding the vociferations of emotion or of pain. The other,
who listened attentively, immediately began where the former left
off answering him in milder or more vehement notes , according as
the purport of the strophe required. The sleepy canals , the lofty
buildings , the splendour of the moon , the deep shadows of the few
gondolas that moved like spirits hither and thither, increased the
striking peculiarity of the gccne , and amidst all these circum-
stances it was easy to confess the character of this wonderful har-
mony.

It suits perfectly well with an idle solitary mariner, lying at
lenght in his vessel at rest on one of these canals , waiting for his
company or for a fare ; the tiresomeness of which situation is some-
what alleviated by the songs and poetical stories he has in me-
mory, lie often raises his voice as loud as he can , which extends
itself to a vast distance over the tranquil mirror ; and;, as all is still
around, he is as it were in a solitude in liie midst of a largo and
populous town. Here is no rattling of carriages, no noise of fooi

.'^RIOSTO AND TASSO. 329

passengers ; a silenf gondola glides now and Ihcn by him , of which
Iho splashing of the oars is scarcely to be heard.

At a distance he hears another, pcrliaps utterly unknown to him.
Melody and verse immediately attach the two strangers ; he be-
comes the responsive echo to the former , and exerts himself to be
lieard as he had heard the other. By a tacit convention they alternate
verse for verse j though the song should last the w hole night through,
they entertain themselves without fatigue 5 tlie hearers , w lio are
passing between the two , take part in the amusement.

This vocal performance sounds best at a great distance , and is
then inexpressibly charming, as it only fulfils its design in the senti-
ment of remoteness. It is plaintive , but not dismal in its sound ^ and
at times it is scarcely possible to refrain from tears. My companion,
who otherwise was not a very delicately organised person , said quite
unexpectedly, " E singolare come quel canto intencrisce, e mollo
piu quando la cantano megUo."

I was told that the women of Lido, the long row of islands that
divides the Adriatic from the Lagoons , particularly the w omen of
the extreme districts of Malamocca and Palestrina , sing in like
manner the works of Tasso to these and similar tunes.

They have the custom , when their husbands are fishing out at
sea, to sit along the shore in the evenings and vociferate these songs,
and continue to do so with great violence , till each of them can
distinguish the responses of her own husband at a distance.

How much mora delightful and more appropriate does this song
show itself here , than the call of a solitary person uttered far and
wide , till another equally disposed shall hear and answer him 1 It is
the expression of a vehement and hearty longing, which yet is every
moment nearer to the happiness of satisfaction.

Lord Byron has told us that with the independence of Venice the
song of the gondolier has died away —

" lu Veuice Tasso's eclioes are no more."

If this be not more poetical than true, it must have occurred at
a moment when their last political change may have occasioned this
silence on the waters. My servant Tita, who was formerly the
servant of his lordship, and whose name has been immortalised in
the "Italy" of Mr. Rogers, was himself a gondolier. He assures me
that every night on the river the chant may be heard. Many who
cannot even read have acquired the whole of Tasso, and some
chant the stanzas of Ariosto. It is a sort of poetical challenge, and
he who cannot lake up the subject by continuing it is held as
vanquished, and which occasions him no slight vexation. In the
note of Lord Byron's works , this article is quoted by mistake as

330 ARIOSTO AND TASSO.

wrillen by me , though I had mentioned it as the conlribulion of a
stranger. We find , in this note of Lord Byron's works , thai there
are two kinds of Tasso ^ the original , and another called the '■'■ Canta
alia Barcariola, " a spurious Tasso in the Venetian dialect : this
latter, however, is rarely used. In the same note , a printer's error
has been perpetuated through all the editions ^ the name of Barry ,
the painter, has been printed Berry.

BAYLE.

Few philosophers were more deserving of the title than Baylc.
His last hour exhibits the Socralic intrepidity with which he en-
countered the formidable approach of death. I have seen the original
letter of the bookseller Leers , w here he describes the death of our
philosopher. "On the evening preceding his decease, having
studied all day, he gave my corrector some copy of his ' Answer to
Jacquelot,' and told him that he was very ill. At nine in the morn-
ing his laundress entered his chamber; he asked her, with a dying
voice, if his fire was kindled? and a few moments after he died."
His disease was an hereditary consumption, and his decline must
have been gradual 5 speaking had become with him a great pain , but
he laboured with the same tranquillity of mind to his last hour;
and , with Bayle , it was death alone which could interrupt the
printer.

The irritability of genius is forcibly characterised by this circum-
stance in his literary life. When a close friendship had united him
to Jurieu, he lavished on him the most flattering eulogiums : he is
the hero of his " Republic of Letters." Enmity succeeded to friend-
ship 5 Jurieu is then continually quoted in his " Critical Dictionary,"
whenever an occasion offers to give instances of gross blunders ,
palpable contradictions, and inclusive arguments. These inconsistent
opinions may be sanctioned by the similar conduct of a Saint! St.
.Jerome praised Rufinus as the most learned man of his age, while
his friend ; but when the same Rufinus joined his adversary Origcn,
he called him one of the most ignorant !

As a logician Bayle had no superior ; the best logician will , how-
ever, frequently deceive himself. Bayle made long and close argu-
ments to show that La Motle le Yaycr never could have been a
l)receptor to the king; but all his reasonings are overturned by the
fact being given in the " History of the Academy," by Pelisson.

Basnage said of Bayle, tliat he read much by his Jina;ers. He
meant that he ran over a book more than he read it; and Ihat he
had the art of always falling upon that which was most essential and
curious in the book he examined.

BAYLE. 331

There are heavy hours in which Ihe mind of a man of ietlers is
unhinged 5 when Ihe intellectual faculties lose all their elasticity,
and when nothing but the simplest actions are adapted to their en-
feebled state. At such hours it is recorded of the Jewish Socrates,
Moses Mendelsohn , that he would stand at his window, and count
the tiles of his neighbour's house. An anonymous w rilcr has told of
Bayle , that he would frequently w rap himself in his cloak , and
hasten to places where mountebanks resorted ^ and that this was one
of his chief amusements. He is surprised that so great a philosopher
should delight in so trilling an object. This objection is not injuri-
ous to the character of Bayle ^ it only proves that the writer himself
was no philosopher.

The "• Monthly Reviewer," in noticing this article, has continued
the speculation by giving two interesting anecdotes. " The observa-
tion concerning ' heavy hours,' and the want of elasticity in the
intellectual faculties of men of letters , when the mind is fatigued
and the attention blunted by incessant labour, reminds us of what
is related by persons who were acquainted with the late sagacious
magistrate Sir John Fielding ^ who , when fatigued w ith attending
to complicated cases , and perplexed with discordant depositions ,
used to retire to a little closet in a remote and tranquil part of the
house, to rest his mental powers and sharpen perception. He told
a great physician , now Uving, who complained of the distance of
places , as caused by the great extension of London , that ' he ( the
physician) would not have been able to visit many patients to any
purpose, if they had resided nearer to each other ^ as he could have
had no time either to think or to rest his mind.' "

Our excellent logician was little accustomed to a mixed society ;
his life was passed in study. He had such an infantine simplicity in
his nature , that he w ould speak on anatomical subjects before the
ladies with as much freedom as before surgeons. When they inclined
their eyes to the ground , and w hile some even blushed , he would
then inquire if what he spoke was indecent •, and , when fold so , he
smiled and stopped. His habits of life were, however, extremely
pure •, he probably left himself little leisure '■'■to fall into teijiptation.^''

Bayle knew nothing of geometry, and , as Le Clerc informs us ,
acknowledged that he could never comprehend the demonstration
of the first problem in Euclid. Le Cierc, however, was a rival to
Bayle ; with greater industry and more accurate learning, but w ith
very inferior powers of reasoning and philosophy. Both of these
great scholars , like our Locke , were destitute of fine taste and
poetical discernment.

When Fagon , an eminent physician . w as consulted on the illness
of our student . he only prescribed a particular regimen , w ilhout

-332 BAYLE.

ilic use of medicine. He closed his consultation by a compliment
remarkable for its felicity. " I ardently wish one could spare this
great man all this constraint, and that it were possible to hnd a
remedy as singular as the merit of him for whom it is asked."

Voltaire has said that Bayle confessed he would not ha\e made
his Dictionary exceed a folio volume , had he written only for
himself, and not for the booksellers. This Dictionary, with all its
human faults, is a stupendous work, which must last with literature
itself. In my fourth volume I have taken an enlarged view of Bayle
and his Dictionary.

CERVANTES.

M. Du BoULAY accompanied the French ambassador to Spain,
when Cervantes was yet living. " He told me," Segrais informs us,
" that the ambassador one day complimented Cervantes on the great
reputation he had acquired by his Don Quixote ; and that Cervantes
whispered in his ear, ' Had it not been for the Inquisition , I should
have made my book much more entertaining.' "

Cervantes, at the battle of Lepanto , was wounded and enslaved.
He has given his own history in Don Quixote. He was known at the
court of Spain , but he did not receive those favours which might
have been expected ; he was neglected. His first volume is the finest;
and his design was to have finished there ; but he could not resist
the importunities of his friends , who engaged him to make a second,
which has not the same force, although it has many splendid
passages.

We have lost many good things of Cervantes, and other writers,
through the tribunal of religion and dulness. One Aonius Palearius
was sensible of this ; and said, " that the Inquisition was a poniard
aimed at the throat of literature." The image is striking, and the
observation just; but the ingenious observer was in consequence
soon led to the stake !

MAGLIABECCHI.

Anthony Magliabecchi , who died at the age of eighty , was
celebrated for his great knowledge of books. He has been called
the lIcUiio , or the Glutton of Literature , as Peter Co/zAe^Ao/- receiv-
ed his nick-name from his amazing voracity for food he could never
digest; which a[)pcared wIrmi having fallen sick of so much false
learning, he threw it all up in his '•'•Sea of Histories ,'' which prov-
ed !o be Ihe hislory of all lliiiigs , and a bad history of every thing.
iMagliabecchi's chajucter issiisgular ; for (hough his lilc was wholl>
passed in libraries , being librarian to Ihe Duke of Tuscany, he never

MAGLIABECCllI. 333

%vrote liimsolf. There is a medal which represents him sitting, willi
a book in one hand , and with a great number of books scattered on
the ground. The candid inscription signifies, that " it is not sufficient
to become learned to have read much , if we read w ithoul retlection."
This is the only remains we have of his own composition tliat can
be of service to posterity. A simple truth , which may however be
inscribed in the study of every man of letters.

His habits of life were uniform. Ever among his books, he
troubled himself with no other concern whatever; and the only
interest he appeared to take for any living thing was his spiders.
While sitting among his literary piles, he affected great sympathy
for these weavers of w ebs , and perhaps in contempt of those w hose
curiosity appeared impertinent, he frequently cried out, "to take
care not to hurt his spiders!" Although he lost no time in writing
himself, he gave considerable assistance to authors w ho consulted
him. He was himself an universal index to all authors ; the late
literary antiquary Isaac Reed resembled him. He had one book,
among many others , dedicated to him , and this dedication consisted
of a collection of titles of works which he had at diiTerent times
dedicated to him , with all the eulogiums addressed to him in prose
and verse. When he died , he left his vast collection of books for ttie
public use-, they now compose the public library of Florence.

Heyman , a celebrated Dutch professor, visited this erudite libra-
rian, who was considered as the ornament of Florence. He found
him amongst his books , of which the number was prodigious. Two
or three rooms in the first story were crowded w ith them , not only
along their sides, but piled in heaps on the floor; so that it was
difficult to sit , and more so to w alk. A narrow space was contrived ,
indeed , so that by walking sideways you might extricate yourself
from one room to another. This was not all ; the passage below
stairs was full of books , and the staircase fram the top to the bottom
was Uned with them. When you reached the second story, you saw
with astonishment three rooms , similar to those below, equally so
crowded , that two good beds in these chambers were also crammed
with books.

This apparent confusion did not , however, hinder Magliabecchi
from immediately finding the books he wanted. He knew them all
so well , that even to the least of them it was sufficient to see its
outside , to say what it was ; he knew his flock , as shepherds are
said , by their faces ; and indeed he read them day and night , and
never lost sight of any. He ate on his books , he slept on his books,
and quitted them as rarely as possible. During his whole life he
only w ent twice from Florence ; once to see Fiesoli , which is not
above two leagues distant , and once ten miles further by order of

334 MAGLIABECCHI.

the Grand Duke. Nothing could be more simple than his mode of
life ; a few eggs , a little bread , and some water, were his ordinary
food. A drawer of his desk being open, Mr. Heyman saw there
several eggs , and some money which Magliabechi had placed there
for his daily use. But as this drawer was generally open , it fre-
quently happened that the servants of his friends , or strangers who
came to see him , pilfered some of these things ; the money or
the eggs.

His dress was as cynical as his repasts. A black doublet , which
descended to his knees •, large and long breeches ^ an old patched
black cloak 5 an amorphous hat , very much worn , and the edges
ragged ; a large neckcloth of course cloth , begrimed with snuff , a
dirty shirt , which he always wore as long as it lasted , and which
the broken elbows of his doublet did not conceal ; and, to finish this
inventory, a pair of ruffles which did not belong to the shirt. Such
was the brilliant dress of our learned Florentine ^ and in such did
he appear in the public streets , as well as in his own house. Let
me not forget another circumstance 5 to warm his hands, he gene-
rally had a stove with fire fastened to his arms , so that his clothes
were generally singed and burnt, and his hands scorched. He had
nothing otherwise remarkable about him. To literary men he was
extremely affable , and a cynic only to the eye ; anecdotes almost
incredible are related of his memory. It is somewhat uncommon
that as he was so fond of literary /oorf^ he did not occasionally
dress some dishes of his own invention , or at least some sandwiches
to his own reUsh. He indeed should have written Curiosities of
Literature. He was a living Cyclopaedia , though a dark lantern.

Of such reading men , Hobbes entertained a very contemptible ,
if not a rash opinion. His own reading was inconsiderable , and he
used to say, that if he had spent as much time in reading as other
men of learning, he should have been as ignorant as they. He
put little value on a large library, for he considered all boohs to
be merely extracts and copies, for that most authors were like
sheep , never deviating from the beaten path. History he treated
lightly, and thought there were more lies than truths in it. But let us
recollect after all this , that Hobbes was a mere metaphysician ,
idolising his own vain and empty hypotheses. H is true enough
that weak heads carrying in them too much reading may be
staggered. Le Clerc observes of two learned men , De Marcily and
Barthius , that they would have composed more useful works
had they read less numerous authors, and digested the better
writers.

ABRIDGERS. 335

ABRIDGERS.

Abridgers arc a kind of literary men to whom the indolence
of modern readers , and indeed the multiplicity of authors , give
employment.

It would be difllcull , observe the learned Benedictines , the au-
thors of the Literary History of France , to relate all the unhappy
consequences which ignorance introduced , and the causes which
produced that ignorance. But we must not forget to place in this
number the mode of reducing , by way of abridgment , what the
ancients had written in bulky volumes. Examples of this practice
may be observed in preceding centuries , but in the fifth century it
began to be in general use. As the number of students and readers
diminished, authors neglected literature, and were disgusted with
composition ^ for to write is seldom done , but when the writer
entertains the hope of finding readers. Instead of original authors,
there suddenly arose numbers of Abridgers. These men , amidst
the prevaihng disgust for literature , imagined they should gratify
the public by introducing a mode of reading works in a few hours,
which otherwise could not be done in many months 5 and, observing
that the bulky volumes of the ancients lay buried in dust , w ithout
any one condescending to examine them , necessity inspired them
with an invention that might bring those works and themselves into
public notice , by the care they took of renovating them. This they
imagined to effectby forming abridgments of these ponderous tomes.
• AH these Ahridgers , however, did not follow the same mode.
Some contented themselves with making a mere abridgment of
their authors , by employing their own expressions , or by inconsi-
derable alterations. Others formed abridgments in drawing them
from various authors , but from whose works they only took what
appeared to them most worthy of observation, and embellished
them in thier own style. Others again , having before them several
authors who wrote on the same subject , took passages from each ,
united them , and thus combined a new work 5 they executed their
design by digesting in common-places , and under various lilies ,
the most valuable parts they could collect, from the best authors
they read. To these last ingenious scholars we owe the rescue of
many valuable fragments of antiquity. They fortunately preserved
the best maxims , characters , descriptions , and curious mailers
which they had found interesting in their studies.

Some learned men have censured these Abridgers as the cause
of our having lost so many excellent entire works of the ancients ;
for posterity becoming less studious was satisfied w ith these extracts.

33C ABRIDGERS.

and neglected to preserve tlie originals , whose voluminous size w.is
less alUactive. Others, on the contrary, say that these Abridgers
have not been so prejudicial to literature ^ and that had it not
been for their care , which snatched many a perishable fragment
from that shipwreck of letters which the barbarians occasioned , we
should perhaps have had no works of the ancients remaining.
Many voluminous works have been greatly improved by their
Abridgers. The vast history of Trogus Pompeius was soon forgotten
and finally perished , after the excellent epitome of it by Justin ,
who winnowed the abundant chaff from the grain.

Bayle gives very excellent advice to an Abridger when he shows
thatXiphilin, in his " Abridgment of Dion," takes no notice of a
circumstance very material for entering into the character of Domi-
tian : — the recalling the empress Domilia after having turned her
away for her intrigues w ith a player. By omitting this fact in the
abridgment, and which is discovered through Suetonius , Xiphihn
has evinced , he says , a deficient judgment ; for Domitian's ill
qualities are much better exposed , when it is known that he was
mean-spirited enough to restore to the dignity of empress the
prostitute of a player.

Abridgers , Compilers , and Translators , are now slightly re-
garded ; yet to form their works with skill requires an exertion of
judgment, and frequently of taste, of which their contemners
appear to have no due conception. Such literary labours it is
thought the learned will not be found to want ^ and the unlearned
cannot discern their value. But to such Abridgers as Monsieur Le
Grand, in his "Tales of the Minstrels, " and Mr. Ellis, in his
" English Metrical Romances," we owe much ; and such writers
must bring to their task a congeniality of genius , and even more
taste than their originals possessed. I must compare such to fine
etchers after great masters : — very few give the feeling touches in
the right place.

It is an uncommon circumstance to quote the Scriptures on
subjects of modern literature^ but on the present topic the elegant
writer of the books of the Maccabees has delivered , in a kind of
preface to that history, very pleasing and useful instructions to an
ylbridger. I shall transcribe the passages, being concise, from Book
ii. Chap. ii. v. 23 , that the reader may have it at hand. —

"All these things , I say, being declared by Jason of Cyrene , in
Jive boohs, we will assay to abridge in one volume. We will be
carclul that they that will read may have dclif^ht, and that they
that are desirous to commit to memory might have ease, and thai
all into whose hands it comes might have profit.'" How concise and
lloralian! lie then describes his lilerarv labours with no insensi-

ABRIDGERS. .337

biiity : — "To us thai have taken upon us this painful labour of
abridging, it was not easy, but a matter of sweat, and watching .'"
— And the writer employs an elegant illustration : " Even as it is no
ease unto him that prepareth a banquet , and seeketh the benefit of
others; yet for the pleasuring of many, we will undertake gladly
this great pain 5 leaving to the author the exact handling of every
particular, and labouring to follow the iides of an y^bridgment.'"
He now embellishes his critical account with a sublime metaphor
to distinguish the original from the copier : — " For as the master
builder of a new house must care for the whole building ; but he
that underlaketh to set it out , and point it , must seek out fit things
for the adorning thereof; even so I think it is with us. To stand
upon euery point, and go over things at large , and to be ciwioiis
in particulars , belongeth to Wxa first author of the story ; but to
use brevity, and avoid much labouring of the work , is to be
granted to him that will make an Abridgment. ".

Quintilian has not a passage more elegantly composed , nor more
judiciously conceived.

PROFESSORS OF PLAGIARISM AND OBSCURITY.

Among the most singular characters in literature may be ranked
those who do not blush to profess publicly its most dishonourable
practices. The first vender of printed sermons imitating manuscript,
was , I think , Dr. Trusler. He to whom the following anecdotes
relate had superior ingenuity. Like the famous orator Henley, he
formed a school of his own. The present lecturer openly taught not
to imitate the best authors , but to steal from them I

Richesource, a miserable declaimer, called himself" Moderator
of the Academy of Philosophical Orators." He taught how a person
destitute of literary talents might become eminent for literature ;
and pubhshed the principles of his art under the title of" The Mask
of Orators ; or the manner of disguising all kinds of composition ;
briefs, sermons, panegyrics , funeral orations, dedications, speeches,
letters, passages' etc. I will give a notion of the work. —

The author very truly observes , that all who apply themselves to
polite literature do not always find from their own funds a sufTicient
supply to ensure success. For such he labours ; and teaches to ga-
ther, in the gardens of others , those fruits of which their own ste-
rile grounds are destitute ; but so artfully to gather, that the public
shall not perceive their depredations. He dignifies this fine art by
the title of Plagianism , and thus explains it : —

" The Plagianism of orators is the art , or an ingenious and easy
mode , which some adroitly employ, to change , or disguise , all
I. " 22

;J38 FliOFESSORS OF PLAGIARISM

sorts of speeches of Iheir own composition , or of that ofotlier au-
thors, for Jlieir pleasure, or their utility ; in such a manner that it be-
comes impossible even for the author himself to recognise his own
work , his own genius, and his own style , so skilfully shall the wliolc
be disguised."

Our professor proceeds to reveal the manner of managing the
whole economy of Ihe piece which is to be copied or disguised ;
and which consists in giving a new order to the parts , changing
the phrases , the words , etc. An orator, for instance , having said
that a plenipotentiary should possess three qualities , — probity, ca-
pacity, and courage^ the plagiarist, on the contrary, may employ
courage , capacity, and probity. This is only for a general rule,
for it is too simple to practice frequently. To render the part perfect
we must make it more complex , by changing the whole of the
expressions. The plagiarist in place of courage will puij'oj'ce,
cojistancy, or vigour. For probity he may say religion , ^virtue ,
or sincerity. Instead of capacity, he may substitute erudition ,
ability, or science. Or he may disguise the whole by saying , that
{\\Q plenipotentiary should be firm , virtuous , and able.

The rest of this uncommon work is composed of passages extract-
ed from celebrated writers , which are turned into the new manner
of the plagiarist ; their beauties , however, are never improved by
their dress. Several celebrated writers when young , particularly the
famous Flechier, who addressed verses to him , frequented the lec-
tures of this professor I

Richesource became so zealous in this course of literature , that
he pubUshed a volume , entitled : " The Art of Writing and Speak-
ing ; or a Method of composing all sorts of Letters , and holding a
pohte Conversation." He concludes his preface by advertising his
readers , that authors who may be in want of essays , sermons , let-
ters of all kinds , written pleadings and verses , may be accommo-
dated on application to him.

Our professor was extremely fond of copious title-pages , which I
suppose to be very attractive to certain readers ^ for it is a custom
which the Richesourccs of the day fail not to employ. Are there per-
sons who value books by the length of their titles , as formerly the
ablity c^f a physician was judged by the size of his wig?

To this article may be added an account of another singular
school , were the professor taught obscurity in literary compo-
sition !

I do not believe that those who are unintelligible are very intelli-
gent. Quintilian has justly observed , that the obscurity of a writer
is generally in proportion to his incapacity. However, as there is
hardly a defect which does not find partisans , tlie same author in -

AND OBSCURITY. :}:j'j

forms us of a Rhetorician, who was so great an admirer of obsnirily,
that he always exhorted his scholars to preserve it ; and made them
correct , as blemishes, those passages of their works which appeared
to him too intelligible. Quintilian adds , that the greatest panegyric
(hey could give to a composition in that school was to declare . " I
understand nothing of this piece."' Lycophron possessed this taste ,
and he protested that he would hang himself if he found a person
who should understand his poem, called the " Prophecy of Cassan-
dra.' He succeeded so well, thai this piece has been the stumbling-
block of all the grammarians , scholiasts , and commentators ; and
remains inexplicable to the present day. Such works Charpenlier
admirably compares to those subterraneous places, where the air is
so thick and sutTocating that it extinguishes all torches. A most so-
phistical dilemma , on the subject of obscurity, was made by Tho-
mas Anglus , or White , an Enghsh Catholic priest , the friend of Sir
Kenelm Digby. This learned man frequently wandered in the mazes
of metaphysical subtilties ; and became perfectly unintelligible to
his readers. When accused of this obscurity, he replied, ^ Either
the learned understand me , or they do not. If they understand me,
and find me in an error, it is easy for them to refute me ; if they do
not understand me , it is very unreasonable for them to exclaim
against my doctrines."

This is saying all that the wit of man can suggest in favour of
obscufitr! 3Iany, however, will agree with an observation made by
Gravinaon the over-refinement of modern composition, that " we
do not think we have attained genius , till others must possess as
much themselves to understand us." Fontenelle, in France, fol-
lowed by IMarivaux , Thomas , and others, first introduced that sub-
tilised manner of writing, which tastes more natural and simple
reject; one source of such bitter complaints of obscurity.

LITERARY DUTCH.

Pere Bouhours seriously asks if a German can be a bel esprit ?
This concise query was answered by Kramer, in a ponderous volume
which bears for title , VindicicB nominis Gerinanici. This mode
of refutation does not prove that the question was then so ridiculous
as it was considered. The Germans of the present day, although
greatly superior to their ancestors , there are who opine that they
are still distant from that acme of taste , which characterises the
finished compositions of the French and the English authors. Na-
tions display genius before they form taste.

It was the mode with English and French writers to dishonour
the Germans with the epithets of heavy, dull , and phlegmatic com-

340 LITERARY DUTCH.

pilers , wiHiout taste , spirit , or genius ; genuine descendants of the
ancient Boeolians.

Crassoqiie sub aere natl.

Many fanciful and many philosophical performances have lately
shown that this censure has now become unjust •, and much more
forcibly answer the sarcastic question of Bouhours than the lliick
quarto of Kramer.

Churchill finely says of genius that it is independent of situation ,

' And may Lereafter even iu Holland rise.'

Vondel , whom , as Marchand observes, the Dutch regard as their
jEschylus , Sophocles , and Euripides , had a strange defective taste ;
the poet himself knew none of these originals , but he wrote on
some patriotic subject, tlie sure way to obtain popularity : the great-
er part of his tragedies is drawn from the Scriptures , all badly
chosen and unhappily executed. In his Deliverance of the Chil-
dren of Israel, one of his principal characters is the Divinity ! In
his Jerusalem Destroyed we are disgusted with a tedious oration
by the angel Gabriel , who proves theologically, and his proofs ex-
tend through nine closely printed pages in quarto, that this destruc-
tion had been predicted by the prophets : and in the Lucifer of the
same author, the subject is grossly scandalised by this haughty spirit
becoming stupidly in love with Eve, and it is for her he causes the
rebellion of the evil angels, and the fall of our first parents. Poor
Vondel kept a hosiers shop , which he left to the care of his wife ,
while he indulged his poetical genius. His stocking-shop failed, and
his poems produced him more chagrin than glory ; for in Holland ,
even a patriotic poet , if a bankrupt , would , no doubt , be ac-
counted by his fellow-citizens as a madman. Vondel had no other
master but his genius , which , with his uncongenial situation , oc-
casioned all his errors.

Another Dutch poet is even less tolerable. Having written a long
rhapsody concerning Pyramus and Thisbe , he concludes it by a
ridiculous parallel between the death of these unfortunate victims
of love , and the passion of Jesus Christ. He says : —

Om t'coucluderem van onsen begrypt ,
Dees Historic raoraliserende,
Is in den verstaude wel accorderendc ,
By der Passie van Cliristus gcbenedyt.

And upon this , after having turned Pyramus into the Son of God ,
and Thisbe into the Christian soul, he proceeds with a number of
comparisons ; the latter always more impertinent than the former.

LITERARY DUTCH. 341

T believe it is well known thai the actors on the Dutch theatre are
j?enerally tradesmen, who (luit their aprons at the liour of public
representation. This was the fad when I was in HollatuI more than
forty years ago. Their comedies are olTensive by tlie crossness of
their buffooneries. One of their comic incidents was a miller ap-
pearing in distress for want of wind to turn his mill ; he had recourse
to the novel scheme of placing his back against it, and by certain
imitative sounds behind the scenes , the mill is soon set a-going.
It is hard to rival such a depravity of taste.

1 saw two of their most ceh^brated tragedies. The one was Gys-
berl Van Amstel , by Yondel^ that is Gysbrecht of /Vnisterdam, a
warrior, who in the civil wars preserved this city by his heroism.
Jt is a patriotic historical play, and never fails to crowd the theatre
towards Christmas, when it is usually performed successively. One
of the acts concludes w ith the scene of a convent ; the sound of
warlike instruments is heard; the abbey is stormed; the nuns and
lathers are slaughtered; with the aid of '•blunderbuss and thunder,'
every Dutchman appears sensible of the pathos of the poet. But it
does not here conclude. After this terrible slaughter, the conquerors
and the vanquished remain for ten ininutesow the stage, silent and
motionless , in the altitudes in which the groups happened to fall I
and this pantomimic pathos commands loud bursts of applause.

The other was the Ahasuerus of Schubart, or the Fall of Haman.
In the triumphal entry the Batavian Mordecai was mounted on a
genuine Flanders mare, that, fortunately, quietly received her
applause with a lumpish majesty resembling her rider. I have seen
an English ass once introduced on our stage which did not act
w ith this decorum. Our late actors have frequently been beasts ; — a
Dutch taste!

Some few specimens of the best Dutch poetry which we have had,
yield no evidence in favour of the national poetical taste. The Dutch
poet Katz has a poem on the "Games of Children," where all the
games are moralised ; I suspect the taste of the poet as well as his
subject is puerile. When a nation has produced no works above
mediocrity, with them a certain mediocrity is excellence , and their
master-pieces , with a people w ho have made a greater progress in
refinement, can never be accepted as the works of a master.

THE PRODUCTIONS OF THE MIND NOT SEIZABLE BY
CREDITORS.

When Crebillon , the French tragic poet , published his Cati-
lina, it was attended with an honour to Uterature, which though
it is probably forgotten , for it was only registered , I think , as

342 THE PRODUCTIOINh OF THE MIND, etc.

the news of the day, it becomes one zealous in the cause of literature
lo preserve, l give the circumstance, the petition, and the docree.

At the time Catilina was given to the public , the creditors of the
poet had the cruelty to attach the produce of this piece, as well
at the bookseller's , who had printed the tragedy, as at the theatre
where it was performed. The poet , irritated at these proceedings ,
addressed a petition to the king , in which he showed "that it was
a thing yet unknown , that it should be allowed to class amongst
seizable effects the productions of the human mind •, that if such a
practice was permitted, those who had consecrated their vigils to the
studies of literature, and who had made the greatest efforts to render
themselves , by this means, useful to their country, would sec them-
selves placed in the cruel predicament of not venturing to publish
works, often precious and interesting to the stale-, that the greater
part of those who devote themselves to literature require for the first
wants of life those aids which they have a right to expect from their
labours ; and that it never has been suffered in France to seize the
fees of lawyers, and other persons of liberal professions."

In answer to this petition , a decree immediately issued from the
King's council , commanding a replevy of the arrests and seizures
of which the petitioner complained. This honourable decree was
dated 21st May, 1749, and bore the following title : "Decree of
the Council of his Majesty, in favour of M. Crebillon , author of
the tragedy of Catilina , which declares that the productions of the
mind are not amongst seizable effects."

Louis XV. exhibits the noble example of bestowing a mark of
consideration to the remains of a man of letters. This King not only
testified his esteem of Crebillon by having his works printed at the
Louvre , but also by consecrating to his glory a tomb of marble.

CRITICS.

Writers who have been unsuccessful in original composition
liave their other productions immediately decried , whatever merit
(hey might once have been allowed to possess. Yet this is very un-
just^ an author who has given a wrong direction to his literary
powers may perceive at length where he can more securely point
them. Experience is as excellent a mistress in the school of litera-
ture as in the school of human life. Blackmore's epics are insuffer-
able ; yet neither Addison nor Jotmson erred when they considered
Ills philosophical poem as a valuable composition. An indifferent
poet may exert the art of criticism in a very high degree •, and if
he cannot himself produce an original work , he may yet be of great
servi( e in regulating the happici g(;nius of another This observa-

CRITICS. 343

lion I shall illuslralc by Ihc characlcrs of two French critics ; Ihc
one is (lie Ahbi; d'Aubipnac, and Iho other Chapeiain.

Boilcau opens his Art of Poetry by a precept which though it be
common is always important; this critical poet declares, that "It
is in vain a daring author thinks of attaining to the height of Par-
nassus if he does not feel the secret influence of heaven, and if his
natal star has not formed him to be a poet.' This observation he
founded on the character of our Abbe ; who had excellently written
on thceconomy of dramatic composition. His Pratique du Thcdlre
gained him an extensive reputation. When he produced a tragedy,
the world expected a finished piece \ it was acted , and reprobated.
The author, however, did not acutely feel its bad reception ; he
every where boasted that he , of all the dramatists , had most scru-
pulously observed the rales of Aristotle. The Prince de Gucmcne,
famous for his repartees , sarcastically observed , " I do not quarrel
with the Abbe d'Aubignac for having so closely followed the pre-
cepts of Aristotle \ but I cannot pardon the precepts of Aristotle ,
that occasioned the Abbe d'Aubignac to write so wretched a Ir .-
gedy."

The Pratique du Theatre is not , however, to be despised ,
because the Tragedy of its author is despicable.

Chapelain's unfortunate epic has rendered him notorious. He
had gained , and not undeservedly, great reputation for his critical
powers. After a retention of above thirty years, his Pucelle appear-
ed. He immediately became the butt of every unfledged wit, and
his former works were eternally condemned ; insomuch that when
Camusat published , after the death of our author, a little volume
of extracts from his manuscript letters , it is curious to observe the
awkward situation in which he finds himself. In his preface he seems
afraid that the very name of Chapeiain will be sufficient to repel
the reader.

Camusat observes of Chapeiain, that "he found flatterers who
assured him his Pucelle ranked above the jEneid ; and this Chape-
iain but feebly denied. However this may be, it would be difficult
to make the bad taste which reigns throughout this poem agree with
that sound and exact criticism with which he decided on the works
of others. So true is it, that genius is very superior to a justness of
mind which is sufficient to judge and to advise others." Chape-
iain was ordered to draw up a critical list of the chief living authors
and men of letters in France , for the king. It is extremely impartial,
and performed with an analytical skill of their literary characters
which could not have been surpassed by an Aristotle or a Boileau.

The talent of judging may exist separately from the power <>/
execution. An amateur may not be an artist , though an artist

344 CKITICS.

should be an amateur •, and it is for this reason that young authors
are not to contemn the precepts of such critics as even the Abbe
d'Aubignac and Chapelain. It is to Walsh , a miserable versifier,
that Pope stands indebted for the hint of our poetry then being de-
ficient in correctness and polish ^ and it is from this fortunate hint
that Pope derived his poetical excellence. Dionysius Halicarnassensis
has composed a lifeless history ^ yet , as Gibbon observes , how ad-
mirably has he judged the masters , and defined the rules of histo-
rical composition ! Gravina , with great taste and spirit , has written
on poetry and poets , but he composed tragedies which give him
no title be ranked among them.

ANECDOTES OF AUTHORS CENSURED.

It is an ingenious observation made by a journalist of Trevoux ,
on perusing a criticism not ill-written , which pretended to detect
several faults in the compositions of Bruy6re , that in ancient Rome
the great men who triumphed amidst the applauses of those who
celebrated their virtues , were at the same time compelled to listen
to those who reproached them with their vices. This custom is not
less necessary to the republic of letters than it was formerly to the
republic of Rome. Without this it is probable that authors would
be intoxicated with success , and would then relax in their accus-
tomed vigour ^ and the multitude who took them for models would ,
for want of judgment , imitate their defects.

Sterne and Churchill were continually abusing the Reviewers ,
because they honestly told the one that obscenity was not wit , and
obscurity was not sens(; ^ and the other that dissonance in poetry
did not excel harmony, and that his rhymes were frequently prose
lines of ten syllables cut into verse. They applauded their happier
efforts. Notwilhslanding all this, it is certain that so little discern-
ment exists among common writers and common readers , tliat the
obscenity and flippan<;y of Sterne, and the bald verse and prosaic
puetry of Churchill , were precisely the portion which lliey selected
for imitation. The blemishes of great njen are not the less blemishes,
but they are , unfortunately, the easiest parts for imitation.

Yel criticism may be loo rigorous , and genius too sensible to its
fairest attacks. Racine acknowledged that one of the severe criticisms
he received had occasioned him more vexation than the greatest
api)lauses had afforded him pleasure. Sir John Marsham , having
published the first part of his "-Chronology," sulTered so much
chagrin at the endless conlrovc^rsies which it raised — and some of
his critics went so far as to afiirm it was designed to be detrimental
to revelation — that he burned the second part , which was ready for

ANECDOTES OF AUTHORS CENSURED. 245

Ihe press. Pope was observed to wrilhe with anguish in his chair
on hearing mentioned the letter of Gibber, with other temporary
attacks ; and it is said of jMontesquieu, that he was so much affected
by the criticisms , true and false , w hich he daily experienced , that
they contributed to hasten his death. Ritson's extreme irritability
closed in lunacy, while ignorant Reviewers , in the shapes of assas-
sins , were haunting his death-bed. In the preface to his " jMetrical
Romances," he says — "Brought to an end in ill health and low
spirits — certain to be insulted by a base and prostitute gana; of lurk-
ing assassins w ho stab in the dark , and whose poisoned daggers he
has already experienced." Scott, of Amwell, never recovered from
a ludicrous criticism , which I discovered had been written by a
physician who never pretended to poetical taste.

Pelisson has recorded a literary anecdote , which forcibly shows
the danger of caustic criticism. A young man from a remote province
came to Paris with a play, which he considered as a masterpiece.
M. L'Etoile was more than just in his merciless criticism. He showed
the youthful bard a thousand glaring defects in his chef d'oeuvre.
The humbled country author burnt his tragedy, returned home ,
took to his chamber, and died of vexation and grief. Of all unfor-
tunate men , one of the unhappiest is a middling author endowed
with too lively a sensibihty for criticism. Athenseus, in his tenth
book, has given us a lively portrait of this melancholy being.
Anaxandridcs appeared one day on horseback in the public assembly
at Athens, to recite a dilhyrambic poem, of which he read a por-
tion. He was a man of fine stature, and wore a purple robe edged
with golden fringe. But his complexion was saturnine and melan-
choly, which was the cause that he never spared his own writings.
Whenever he was vanquished by a rival , he immediately gave his
compositions to the druggists to be cut into pieces to wrap their
articles in , without ever caring to revise his writings. It is owing
to this that he destroyed a number of pleasing compositions ; age
increased his sourness , and every day he became more and more
dissatisfied at the awards of his auditors. Hence his "Tereus,"
because it failed to obtain the prize , has not reached us , which ,
with other of his productions , deserved preservation , though they
had missed the crown awarded by the public.

Batteux having been chosen by the French government for the
compilation of elementary books for the Military School , is said to
have felt their unfavourable reception so acutely, that he became a
prey to excessive grief. The lamentable death of Dr. Hawkesworth
was occasioned by a similar circumstance. Government had con-
signed to his care the compilation of the voyages thai pass under his
name : how he succeeded is well known. He fell the public reception

346 ANECDOTES OF AUTHORS CENSURED.

SO sensibly, that he preferred the oblivion of death to the mortifying
recollections of life.

On this interesting subject Fontenellc, in his " Eloge on New-
ton ," has made the following observation : — " Newton was more
desirous of remaining unknown than of having the calm of life dis-
turbed by those literary storms which genius and science attract
about those who rise to eminence." In one of his letters we learn
that his ''Treatise on Optics" being ready for the press, several
prematura objections which appeared made him abandon its publi-
cation. " I should reproach myself," he said " for my imprudence ,
if I were to lose a thing so real as my ease to run after a shadow."
But this shadow he did not miss : it did not cost him the ease he so
much loved , and it had for him as much reality as ease itself. I
refer to Bayle , in his curious article " Hipponax ," note f. To these
instances we may add the fate of the Abbe Cassagne , a man of learn-
ing, and not destitute of talents. He was intended for one of the
preachers at court ; but he had hardly made himself known in the
pulpit, when he was struck by the lightning of Boileau's muse. He
felt so acutely the caustic verses, that they rendered him almost
incapable of literary exertion ,• in the prime of life he became me-
lancholy, and shortly afterwards died insane. A modern painter, it
is known , never recovered from the biting ridicule of a popular,
but malignant wit. Cummyns , a celebrated quaker, confessed he
died of an anonymous letter in a public paper, which , said he ,
"fastened on my heart, and threw me into this slow fever." Ra-
cine , who died of his extreme sensibility to a royal rebuke , con-
fessed that the pain which one severe criticism inflicted outweighed
all the applause he could receive. The feathered arrow of an epi-
gram has sometimes been wet with the heart's blood of its victim.
Fortune has been lost , reputation destroyed , and every charity of
life extinguished , by the inhumanity of inconsiderate wit.

Literary history records the fate of several who may be said to
have died of Criticism. But there is more sense and infinite humour
in the mode which Phaidrus adopted to answer the cavillers of his
age. When he first published his Fables , the taste for conciseness
and simpUcily was so much on the dechne , tliat they were both
objected to him as faults. He used his critics as they deserved. To
those who objected against the conciseness of his style , he tells a
Unvj^ tedious story (Lib. iii. Fab. 10, ver. 59), and treats those
who cond«>nnu'd the sctnpUcity of his style with a run of bombast
verses, that have a great many noisy elevated words in them,
without any sense at the bottom — this in Lib. iv. Fab. 6.

VIRGIINITY. 347

VIRGINITY.

The writings of the Fathers once formed the studies of (he learned.
These labours abound with that subtilty of aretumcnl which will
repay tlie industry of the inquisitive , and the antiquary may turn
them over for pictures of the manners of the age. A favourite sub-
ject with Saint Ambrose was that of A irginity, on which he has
several works; and perhaps he wished to revive the order of the
vestals of ancient Rome , which afterwards produced the institution
of Nuns. His "Treatise on Virgins" is in three volumes. We learn
from this work of the fourth century the lively impressions his
exhortations had made on the minds and hearts of girls , not less in
the most distant provinces , than in the neiglibourhood of Milan
where he resided. The virgins of Bologna, amounting only, it ap-
pears, to the number of twenty, performed all kinds of needle-
work , not merely to gain their livelihood , but also to be enabled
to perform acts of liberality, and exerted their industry to allure
other girls to join the holy profession of Virginity. He exhorts
daughters, in spite of their parents, and even their lovers, to con-
secrate themselves. "I do not blame marriage," he says, "I only
show the advantages of Virgimty."

He composed this book in so florid a style , that he considered it
reciuired some apology. A Religious of the Benedictines published
a translation in 1G89.

So sensible was Saint Ambrose of the rarity of the profession he
would establish , that he thus combats his adversaries ; " They com-
plain that human nature will be exhausted ; but I ask , who has
ever sought to marry without finding women enough from amongst
whom he might choose ? What murder, or what war, has ever been
occasioned for a virgin? It is one of the consequences of marriage to
kill the adulterer, and to war with the ravisher."

He wrote another treatise On the perpetual Virginity of the
Mother of God. He attacks Bonosius on this subject , and defends
her virginity, which was indeed greatly suspected by Bonosius,
who, however, got nothing by this bold suspicion but the dreadful
name of Heretic. A third treatise was entitled Exhortation to
Virginity ; a fourth , On the Fate of a Virgin , is more curious.
He relates the misfortunes of one Susannah , w ho was by no means
a companion for her namesake ; for having made a vow of virginity,
and taken the veil, she afterwards endeavoured to conceal her
shame, but the precaution only tended to render her more cul-
pable. Her behaviour, indeed, had long alTorded ample food for
the sarcasms of tlie Jews and Pagans. Saint Ambrose compelled her

348 VIRGIINITY.

to perform public penance , and after having declaimed on her dou-
ble crime, gave her hopes of pardon, if, like " Sueur Jeanne,"
this early nun would sincerely repent : to complete her chastisement,
he ordererd her every day to recite the fiftieth psalm.

A GLANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY.

In the republic of letters the establishment of an academy has
been a favourite project ; yet perhaps it is little more than an Uto-
pian scheme. The united efforts of men of letters in Academies have
produced little. It would seem that no man likes to bestow his great
labours on a small community, for whose members he himself does
not feel, probably, the most flattering partiality. The French Aca-
demy made a splendid appearance in Europe 5 yet when this society
published their Dictionary, that of Fureti^re's became a formidable
rival; and Johnson did as much as Ihcfoity themselves. Voltaire
confesses that the great characters of the literary republic were
formed without the aid of academies. — " For what then ," he asks,
" are they necessary? — To preserve and nourish the fire which
great geniuses have kindled." By observing the Junto ot their
meetings we may form some opinion of the indolent manner in
which they trifled away their time. We are fortunately enabled to
do this, by a letter in which Palru describes, in a very amusing .
manner, the visit which Christina of Sweden took a sudden fancy to
pay to the academy.

The Queen of Sweden having resolved to visit the French Aca-
demy, gave so short a notice of her design, that it was impossible
to inform the majority of the members of her intention. About four
o'clock fifteen or sixteen academicians were assembled. M. Gom-
baut, one of the members who had never forgiven her majesty be-
cause she did not relish his verses, thought proper to show his
resentment by quitting the assembly.

She was received in a spacious hall. In the middle was a table co-
vered with rich blue velvet , ornamented w ilh a broad border of
gold and silver. At its head was i)la(ed an arm-chair of black velvet
embroidered with gold , and round the table were placed chairs
with tapestry backs. The chancellor had forgotten to hang in the
hall the portrait of the queen , which she had presented to the Aca-
demy, and which was considered as a great omission. About five,
a footman belonging to the queen in(|uire(l if the company were
assembled. Soon after, a servant of the king inr()rmed the chancellor
that the (jueen was at the end of the street-, and innnedialely her
carriage dnnv up in the court-yard. The chancellor, followed by the
res! of the members, wcnl to receive her as she stepped out of her

A GLANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY. 3i0'

chariot; but the crowd was so great, that few of them could reach
her majesty. Accompanied by the chancellor , she passed through
the first hall , followed by one of her ladies , the captain of her
guards, and one or two of her suite.

When she entered the Academy she approached the fire, and
spoke in a low voice to the chancellor. She then asked why M. Me-
nage was not there ? and when she was told that he did not belong
to the Academy, she asked why he did not ? She w as answered , that
however he might merit the honour, he had rendered himself
unworthy of it by several disputes he had had with its members.
She then inquired aside of the chancellor whether the academicians
w ere to sit or stand before her ? On this the chancellor consulted
with a member, who observed that in the time of Ronsard , there
was held an assembly of men of letters before Charles IX. several
limes, and that they were always seated. The queen conversed with
M. Bourdelot ] and suddenly turning to Madame de Bregis , told her
that she believed she must not be present at the assembly ; but it
was agreed that this lady deserved the honour. As the queen was
talking with a member , she abruptly quitted him , as was her cus-
tom , and in her quick way sat down in the arm-chair ; and at the
same time the members sealed themselves. The queen observing
that they did not, out of respect to her, approach the table , desired
them to come near ; and they accordingly approached it.

During these ceremonious preparations several officers of stale
had entered the hall , and stood behind the academicians. The chan-
cellor sat at the queen's left hand by the fire-side ; and at the right
was placed M. de la Chambre , the director •, then Boisrobert , Pa-
tru , Pelisson , Colin , the Abbe Tallemant , and others. M. de Me-
zeray sat at the bottom of the table facing the queen, with an
inkstand, paper, and the portfolio of the company lying before
him : he occupied the place of secretary. When they were all seat-
ed the director rose, and the academicians followed him, all but
Ihe chancellor , w ho remained in his seat. The director made his
complimentary address in a low voice , his body w as quite benl ,
and no person but the queen and the chancellor could hear him.
She received his address with great satisfaction.

All compliments concluded, they returned to their seats. The
director then told the queen that he had composed a treatise on
Pain , to add to his character of the Passions, and if it was agreea-
ble to her majesty, he would read the first chapter. — A'ery willingly,
she answered. Having read it , he said to her majesty, that he would
read no more test he should fatigue. Not at all, she replied, for I
suppose what follows resembles wiiat I have heard.

Afterwards M. Mezeray mentioned that M. Colin had some ver-

350 A GLANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY.

ses, which lior majesty would doubtless find beautiful, and if it
was agreeable they should be read. M. Cotin read them : thc^y were
versions of two passages from Lucretius : the one in which he at-
tacks a Providence , and the other, where he gives the origin of the
world according to the Epicurean system : to tliese he added twenty
lines of his own , in which he maintained the existence of a Provi-
dence. This done , an abbe rose, and , without being desired or or=
dered , read two sonnets , which by courtesy were allowed to be
tolerable. It is remarkable that both the poets read their verses
standing , while the rest read their compositions seated.

After these readings , the director informed the queen that the
ordinary exercise of the company was to labour on the dictionary ^
and that if her majesty should not find it disagreeable , they would
read a cahier or stitched MS. Very willingly, she answered. M. de
Mezeray then read what related to the word Jeu; Game. Amongst
other proverbial expressions was this : Game of Princes , which
only pleases the player, to express a malicious violence commit-
ted by one in power. At this the queen laughed heartily ; and they
continued reading all that was fairly written. This lasted about an
hour, when the queen observing that nothing more remained , arose,
made a bow to the company , and returned in the manner she
entered.

Fureti6re , who was himself an academician . has described the
miserable manner in which time was consumed at their assemblies,
I confess he was a satirist , and had quarelled with the academy ;
there must have been , notwithstanding , sufficient resemblance for
the following picture, however it may be overcharged. He has
been blamed for thus exposing the Eleusinian mysteries of literature
to the uninitiated.

" He who is most clamorous, is he whom they suppose has
most reason. They all have the art of making long orations upon a
trifle. The second repeats like an echo what the first said ; but ge-
nerally three or four speak together. When there is a bench of five
or six members , one reads , another decides , two converse , one
sleeps , and another amuses himself with reading some dictionary
which happens to lie before him. When a second member is to
deliver his opinion , they are obhged to read again the article ,
which at the first perusal he had been too much engaged to hear.
This is a happy manner of finishing their work. They can hardly
get over two lines without long digressions i without some one
lelHng a pleasant story, or the news of the day; or talking of affairs
of state , and reforming the government."

Thai the French Academy were generally frivolously employed
appears also fron> an cplslle to Balzac, by Boisroberl, tiu; amusing

A GLANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY. J5I

companion of Cardinal Richcliou. " Evory one separately/ says
he, "promises great things-, when they meet they do nothing.
They have been six years employed on the letter F ; and I should
be happy if I were certain of living till they got through G."

The following anecdote concerns the forty arm-chairs of the
academicians. Those cardinals who were academicians for a long
lime had not attended the meetings of the academy, because they
thought that arm-chairs were indispensable to their dignity, and
the academy had then only common chairs. These cardinals were
desirous of being present at the election of M. Monnoie , that they
might give him a distinguished mark of their esteem. " The king,"
says D'Alcmbcrt, " to satisfy at once the delicacy of their friend-
ship , and that of their cardinalship, and to preserve at the same
time that academical equality, of which this enlightened monarch
(Louis XIV. ) well knew the advantage, sent to the academy forty
arm-chairs for the forty academicians, the same chairs which we
now occupy ; and the motive to w hich we owe them is sufficient to
render the memory of Louis XIY. precious to the republic of letters,
to w hom it owes so many more important obligations I "

POETICAL AND GRAMMATICAL DEATHS.

It will appear by the following anecdotes , that some men may
be said to have died poetically and even grammatically.

There must be some attraction existing in poetry which is not
merely fictitious, for often have its genuine votaries felt all its pow-
ers on the most trying occasions. They have displayed the energy
of their mind by composing or repeating verses , even with death
on their hps.

The Emperor Adrian , dying , made that celebrated address to
his soul , which is so happily translated by Pope. Lucan, when he
had his veins opened by order of Nero , expired reciting a passage
from his Pharsalia , in which he has described the wound of a dying
soldier. Petronius did the same thing on the same occasion.

Patris, a poet of Caen, perceiving himself expiring, composed
some verses which are justly admired. In this little poem he relates
a dream , in which he appeared to be placed next to a beggar, w hen ,
having addressed him in the haughty strain he w ould probably have
employed on this side of the grave , he receives the following re-
primand : —

Ici tous sont egans ; je ne te dois plus rien ;
Je sols sur mon fumier comme toi siir le tieu.

Here all are equal ! now thy lot is mine !
I ou my dunghill , as thou art on thine.

352 POETICAL AND GRAMMATICAL DEATHS.

Des Barreaux , it is said , wrote on his death-bed that well-known
sonnet which is translated in the "■ Spectator."

Margaret of Austria, when she was nearly perishing in a storm at
sea, composed her epitaph in verse. Had she perished , what would
have become of the epitaph ? And if she escaped , of what use was
it? She should rather have said her prayers. The verses however have
all the naivete of the times. They are —

Cy gist Margot , la gente demoiselle ,
Qu'eut deux maris , et si inourut puce

inourut pncelle.

Beneath this tomb is high-born Margaret laid ,
Who liad two husbands, and yet died a maid.

She was betrothed to Charles VIII. of France , who forsook her ;
and being next intended for the Spanish infant , in her voyage to
Spain, she wrote these lines in a storm.

Mademoiselle de Serment w.s surnamed the philosopher. She
was celebrated for her knowledge and taste in polite literature. She
died of a cancer in her breast , and suffered her misfortune with
exemplary patience. She expired in finishing these verses, which
she addressed to Death : —

Nectare clausa suo,
Dignum tantorum pretium tulit ilia laborum.

It was after Cervantes had received extreme unction that he wrote
the dedication of his Persiles.

Roscommon , at the moment he expired , with an energy of voice
that expressed the most fervent devotion , uttered two lines of his
own version of "• Dies Ira! " Waller, in his last moments, repealed
some lines from Yirgil : and Chaucer seems to have taken his fore-
well of all human vanities by Geffrey Chaucyer upon his delhe-
bedde lying in his grete anguysse."

Cornehus de Witt fell an innocent victim to popular prejudice.
His death is thus noticed by Hume: — " This man, who has brave-
ly served his country in war, and who had been invested with the
highest dignities , was delivered into the hands of the executioner ,
and torn in pieces by the most inhuman torments. Amidst the severe
agonies which he endured he frequently repealed an Ode of Horace,
which contained sentiments suited to his deplorable condition." It
was the third ode of the third book which this illustrious philosopher
and statesman then repeated.

Melastasio, after receiving the sacrament , a very short time before
his last moments, broke out with all the enthusiasm of poetry and
religion in these stanzas :

POETICAL AND GRAMMATICAL DEATHS 363

T'offro il tuo proprio Figlio,

Clie gia d'amore iu pegno ,

Racchiuso in picciol seguo

Si voile a noi douar.
A lui rivolgi il cigllo.

Guardo cLi t'offro , e poi

Lasci , Signor, se vnoi,

Lascia dl perdonar.

" 1 offer to thee , O Lord , thy own Son , who already has given tlic pledge
of love , enclosed in this thin emblem. Turn on him thine eyes : ah ! heh ,ld
whom I offer to thee, and then desist, O Lord! if thou canst desist from
mercy."

" The muse thai has attended my course," says the dying Gleim
in a letter to Klopstock , " still hovers round my steps to the very
verge of the grave/' A collection of lyrical poems, entitled " Last
Hours," composed by Old Gleim on his death-bed, was intended to
be published. The death of Klopstock was one of the most poetical :
in this poet's "Messiah," he had made the death of Mary, the
sister of Martha and Lazarus , a picture of the death of the Just ^
and on his own death-bed he was heard repeating, with an expiring
voice, his own verses on Mary ; he was exhorting himself to die by
the accents of his own harp, the sublimities of his own muse! The
same song of Mary was read at the public funeral of Klopstock.

Chatellard , a French gentleman , beheaded in Scotland for having
loved the queen , and even for having attempted her honour, Bran-
lome says , would not have any other viaticum than a poem of Ron-
sard. When he ascended the scaffold he took the hymns of this poet,
and for his consolation read that on death , which our old critic says
is well adapted to conquer its fear.

When the Marquis of Montrose was condemned by his judges to
have his limbs nailed to the gates of four cities, the brave soldier
said that "he was sorry he had not limbs sulTicient to be nailed to
all the gates of the cities in Europe , as monuments of his loyalty.'
As he proceeded to his execution, he put this thought into verse.

Philip Strozzi , imprisoned by Cosmo the first , Great Duke of
Tuscany, was apprehensive of the danger to which he might expose
his friends who had joined in his conspiracy against the duke , fron»
the confessions which the rack might extort from him. Having
attempted every exertion for the liberty of his country, he consi-
dered it as no crime therefore to die. He resolved on suicide. With
the point of the sword , with which he killed himself, he cut out on
the mantel-piece of the chimney this verse of Virgil : —

Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ullor.
Rise, some avenger, from our blood!

I can never repeal without a strong emotion the following stau-

1, 2-3

354 POETICAL AND GRAMMAI'ICAL DEATHS.

zas , begun by Andre Chcnier , in the dreadful period of the French
revolution. He was waiting for his turn to be dragged to the guil-
lotine , when he commenced this poem : —

Coiiime iiu dernier rayon , comme uu deiuier zepliyre

Anime la fin d'un lieau jour;
An pied de rechafaud j'essaie encor ina lyre,

Peut-etre est-ce bicnt6t mon tour;

Peut-etre avaot que I'lieure en cercle promeuee

Ait pose sur Temail brillant
Dans les soixante pas ou sa route est bornee

Son pied sonore et vigilant

Lc sommeil dii tombeau pressera ma paupiere

Here, at this pathetic line, was Andre Chenier summoned to tlie
guillotine I Never was a more beautiful effusion of grief interrupted
by a more affecting incident !

Several men of science have died in a scientific manner. Haller,
the poet, philosopher, and physician, beheld his end approach
with the utmost composure. He kept feeling his pulse to the last
moment, and when he found that life was almost gone, he turned
to his brother physician , observing, " My friend, the artery cea-
ses to beat ," and almost instantly expired. The same remarkable
circumstance had occurred to the great Harvey : he kept making
observations on the state of his pulse, when life was drawing to its
close, " as if," says Dr. Wilson, in the oration spoken a few days
after the event, " that he who had taught us the beginning of life
might himself, at his departing from it, become acquainted with
those of death."

De Lagny, who was intended by his friends for the study of the
law, having fallen on an Euclid, found it so congenial to his dispo-
sitions , that he devoted himself to mathematics. In his last mo-
ments , when he retained no further recollection of the friends who
surrounded his bed , one of them , perhaps to make a philosophi-
cal experiment , thought proper to ask him the square of twelve :
our dying mathematician instantly , and perhaps without knowing
that he answered , replied "• One hundred and forty-four."

The following anecdotes arc of a dilferent complexion , and may
excite a smile.

Pere Bouhours was a French grammarian, who had been justly
accused of paying loo scrupulous an attention to the minutiae of
letters. He was more solicitous of his words than his thoa§.hts. H
is said , that when he was dying , he called out to his friends ( a
correct grammarian to the last), "/e VAS, ou je \M^ niourir^
I'un ct V autre sa dit! "

WhenMalhcrbe was dying , he reprimanded his nurse for making

POETICAL AND GRAMMATICAL DEATHS. ih:^

use of a solecism in her language ! and when- his confessor repre-
sented to him the fehcities of a future state in low and trite expres-
sions, the dying critic interrupted him : — " Hold your tongue,"
he said ; " your wretched style only makes me out of conceit with
them I "

The favourite studies and amusements of the learned La jMothe
le Yayer consisted in accounts of the most distant countries. He
gave a striking proof of the influence of this master-passion, when
death hung upon his hps. Bernier, the celebrated traveller, enter-
ing and draw ing the curtains of his bed to take his eternal farewell ,
the dying man turning to him , with a faint voice inquired , "Well,
ray friend , what news from the Great Mogul? "

SCARRON.

ScARRON , as a burlesque poet , but no other comparison exists ,
had his merit, but is now little read; for the uniformity of the bur-
lesque style is as intolerable as the uniformity of the serious. From
various sources we may collect some uncommon anecdotes, although
he was a mere author.

His father, a counsellor, having married a second wife , the lively
Scarron became the object of her hatred.

He studied , and travelled , and took the clerical tonsure 5 but dis-
covered dispositions more suitable to the pleasures of his age than
to the gravity of his profession. He formed an aquaintance with the
wits of the times; and in the carnival of 1638 committed a youth-
ful extravagance , for which his remaining days formed a continual
punishment. He disguised himself as a savage ; the singularity of a
naked man attracted crowds. After having been hunted by the mob,
he was forced to escape from his pursuers, and concealed himself
in a marsh. A freezing cold seized him , and threw him , at the
age of twenty -seven years , into a kind of palsy ; a cruel disorder
which tormented him all his hfe. " It was thus," he says, " that
pleasure deprived me suddenly of legs which had danced with ele-
gance , and of hands , which could manage the pencil and the lute."

Goujet , without stating this anecdote , describes his disorder as
an acrid humour, distilling itself on his nerves, and baffling the
skill of his physicians ; the sciatica , rheumatism , in a word , a
complication of maladies attacked him , sometimes successively ,
sometimes together, and made of our poor Abbe a sad spectacle. He
thus describes himself in one of his letters ; and who could be in bet-
ter humour?

" I have lived to thirty : if I reach forty, I shall only add many
miseries to those which I have endured these last eight or nine years.

356 SCARRON.

My person was well made, Uiougli shorl; my disorder has shortened
il slill more by a fool. My head is a Hllle broad for my shape-, my
face is full enough lo render a wig unnecessary •, I have got many
white hairs, in spile of the proverb. My leeth, formerly square
pearls , are now of the colour of wood , and will soon be of slate.
My legs and thighs first formed an obtuse angle, afterwards an
equilateral angle , and at length, an acute one. My thighs and body
form another; and my head , always dropping on my breast, makes
me not ill represent a Z. I have got my arms shortened as well as
my legs, and my fingers as well as my arms. In a word , I am an
abridgment of human miseries."

Tie had the free use of nothing but his tongue and his hands ; and
he wrote on a portfolio placed on his knees.

Balzac said of Scarron , that he had gone further in insensibility
than the stoics; who were satisfied in api)earing insensible lo
pain ; but Scarron was gay , and amused all the world with his
sufferings.

He pourlrays himself thus humorously in his address lo the
queen : —

Je ne regarde plus qu'en bas ,
Jc suis torticolis , j'ai la tcte pcuchante;
Ma mine dcvieut si plalsante ,
Que quand on en riroit , je nc m'on plaiudrois pas.

" I can only see under mc; I am wry-necked; my head hangs down ■ iny
appearance is so droll , that if people laugh , I shall not complain."

He says elsewhere ,

Parmi les torticolis

Je passe pour des plus jolis.

" Among your wry-necked people I pass for one of the handsomest."

After having sultcred this distortion of shape , and these acule
pains for four years, he quilled his usual residence, the quarter
du Marais, for the baths of the fauxhourg Saint-Germain. He
took leave of his friends , by addressing some verses lo them ,
entitled , Adieux aii Marais; in which he describes several
celebrated persons. When he was brought into the street in a chair,
the pleasure of seeing himself there once more overcame the pains
which the motion occasioned , and he has celebrated the transport
by an ode-, which has for title : " The Way from le Marais to the
Fauxbourg Saint-Germain."

The baths he tried had no effect on his miserable disorder. Bui
a new allliction was added lo the catalogue of his griefs.

His father, who had hitherto contributed lo his necessities, having

SCARRON. 357

joined a parly against Cardinal Richelieu , was exiled. This affair
was rendered slill mon^ unfortunate by liis niothcr-in-law willi lier
children at Paris , in the absence of lier husband , appropriating
(he property of the family to her own use.

Hitlierto Scarron had had no connexion with Cardinal Richelieu.
The conduct of his father had even rendered his name disagreeable
to the minister, who was by no means prone to forgiveness. Scar-
ron , however , when he thought his passion moderated , ventured
to present a petition , which is considered by the critics as one of
his happiest productions. Richelieu permitted it to be read to him ,
and acknowledged that it alTorded him much pleasure , and tliat it
was pleasantly dated. This pleasant date is thus given by Scar-
ron : —

Fait a Paris, dcruicr jour d'Octobrc,
Par mol , Scarrou , qui malgre moi suis sobi c ,
L'au que Ton prit le fameux Perpignan ,
Et, saas canon, la villc de Sedan.

At Paris done, the last day of October,

By uie, Scarron, who wanting wine, am sober,

The year they look fam'd Perpignan ,

And, without cannou-ball, Sedan.

This was flattering tlie minister adroitly in two points very agree-
able to him. The poet augured well of the dispositions ot^llie cardi-
nal , and lost no lime to return to the charge, by addressing an ode
lo him , to which he gave the title of Thanks , as if he had already
received the favours which he hoped he should receive ! But all was
lost by the death of the cardinal. Catherine of Medicis was [)rodigal
of her promises , and for this reason , Ronsard dedicated to her the
hymn to Projiise.

When Scarron's lather died , he brought his mother-in-law into
court 5 and , to complete his misfortunes , lost his suit. The cases
which he drew up for the occasion were so extremely burlesque ,
that the world could not easily conceive how a man could amuse
himself so pleasantly on a subject on which his existence depended.

The successor of Richelieu , the Cardinal Mazarin , was insensi-
ble lo his applications, lie did nothing for him , although the poet
dedicated to him his Typlion , a burlesque poem , in w hich the au-
thor describes the wars of the giants with the gods. Our bard was
so irritated at this neglect, that he suppressed a sonnet he had writ-
ten in his favour, and aimed at him several satirical bullets. Scarron,
however, consoled himself for this kind of disgrace with those select
friends who were not inconstant in their visits lo him. The Bishop
of 31ans also , solicited by a friend , gave him a living in his dio-
cese. When Scarron had taken possession of it , he began his Ro-

.3,.S SCARRON.

man Comique , ill Iranslalod into English by Comical Rmnaiice.
He made friends by his dedications. Such resources were indeed
necessary, for he not only lived well , but had made his house an
asylum for his two sisters , who there found refuge from an unfeel-
ing step-mother.

It was about this time that the beautiful and accomplished Made-
moiselle d'Aubigne, afterwards so well known by the name of Ma-
dame de Maintenon , she who was to be one day the mistress , if not
the queen of France , formed with Scarron the most romantic con-
nexion. She united herself in marriage with one whom she well
knew could only be a lover. It was indeed amidst that literary so-
ciety she formed her taste and embellished with her presence his
little residence, where assembled the most polished courtiers and
some of the finest geniuses of Paris of that famous party, called La
Fronde , formed against Mazarin. Such was the influence this
marriage had over Scarron , that after this period his writings be-
came more correct and more agreeable than those which he had
previously composed. Scarron, on his side, gave a proof of his
attachment to Madame de Maintenon ^ for by marrying her he lost
his living of Mans. But though without wealth, he was accustomed
to say that " his wife and he would not live uncomfortably by the
produce of his estate and the Marqidsate of Quinet.''' Thus he
called the revenue which his compositions produced , and Quinet
was his bookseller.

Scarron addressed one of his dedications to his dog, to ridicule
those writers who dedicate their works indiscriminately , though no
author has been more liberal of dedications than himself; but, as he
confessed , he made dedication a kind of business. When he was low
in cash he always dedicated to some lord, whom he praised as warmly
as his dog , but whom probably he did not esteem as much.

When Scarron was visited , previous to general conversation his
friends were taxed with a perusal of what he had written since he
saw them last. Segrais and a friend calling on him , "Take a chair,"
said our author, " and let me try on you my ' Roman Comique.' "
He took his manuscript , read several pages , and when he observed
tliat they laughed, he said, "Good, this goes well; my book can't
fail of success, since it obliges such able persons as yourselves to
laugh;" and then remained silent to receive their compliments. He
used to call this trying on his romance , as a tailor tries his coat.
He was agreeable and diverting in all things , even in his complaints
and passions. Whatever he conceived he immediately too freely
expressed ; but his amiable lady corrected him of (his in three monliis
after marriage.

He petitioned M;e queen, in his droll manner, lo be permittetl the

SCARRON. 35'J

honour of bcins her Sick-Man by ri^hi of t)(fica. These verses
Ibrin a pari of his address lo her majesty :

Scarron , par la grace de Dleu,
Malade indigue de la reine,
Horaine n'ayaiit ni feu, nl lieu,
Mais hieii da inal et de la peiucj
II6pital allanl et vcuant,
Des jainbes d'autrui cLeniinaut.
Des siennes n'ayaut plus I'usage ,
Souffraut beancoup, dormant Lien pcu ,
Et pourtant faisaut par courage
Bonne mine et fort mauvaisjcu.

" Scarroa, by the grace of God , tlie iinwortby Sick-man of the Queen; a
man without a house, though a moving hospital of tlisonlers^ walking only
with other people's legs, with great suflerings , but little sleep, and yet, in
spite of all, very courageously showing a hearty couutcnance, though indeed
he plays a losing game."

She smiled , granted the title , and , what was better, added a
small pension, which losing, by lampooning the minister, Mazarin,
Fouquet generously granted him a more considerable one.

The termination of the miseries of this facetious genius w as now
approaching. To one of his friends, who was taking leave of him
for some time , Scarron said, "I shall soon die ; the only regret I
have in dying is not to be enabled to leave some property to my
wife , who is possessed of infinite merit , and whom I have every
reason imaginable to admire and to praise."

One day he was seized with so violent a fit of the hiccough , that
his friends now considered his prediction would soon be verified.
When it was over, "if ever I recover," cried Scarron, "I will
write a bitter satire against the hiccough." The satire , however, was
never written , for he died soon after, A little before his death ,
when he observed his relations and domestics weeping and groaning,
he was not much affected, but humorously told them, " My chil-
dren , you will never weep for me so much as I have made you
laugh." A few moments before he died, he said, that " he never
thought it was so easy a matter to laugh at the approach of death."

The burlesque compositions of Scarron are now neglected by the
French. This species of w riting was much in vogue till attacked by
the critical Boileau , who annihilated such puny w rilers as D'Assoucy
and Dulot , with their stupid admirers. It is said he spared Scarron
because his merit, though it appeared but at intervals , was uncom-
mon. Yet so much were burlesque verses (he fashion after Scarron 's
works, that the booksellers would not publish poems , but with the
word "Burlesque" in the title-page. In 1649 appeared a poem,

360 SCARROIN.

which Shocked the pious, enlillca " The Passion of our Lord , in
burlesque Verses.'"

Swift, in his dolagc, appears lo have been gratified by such
puerilities as Scarron frequently wrote. An ode which Swift calls
'"• A Lilliputian Ode," consisting of verses of three syllables, probably
originated in a long epistle in verses of three syllables , which
Scarron addressed to Sarrazin. It is pleasant, and the following
lines will serve as a specimen : —

Epttre a M. Sarrazin.

Sarrazin ,
Mon voisin ,
Clierami,
Qu'a demi,
Jc ne voi ,
Dont ma foi
J'aL depit
Ua petit,
N'es-tu pas
Barrabas ,
Busiris ,
PLalaris ,
GaneloB
Le felon?

He describes Iiimself-

Ua pauvrct ,
Trcs maigret ,
Au col tors ,
Dont le corps
Tout tortu.
Tout bossu ,
Suranne ,
Decliarne ,
Est reduit,
Jour et nuit ,
A souffrir
Sans guerir
Des tourmcns
Vebemcns,

He complains of Sarrazin's not visiting him, threatens lo reduce
him into powder if he comes not quickly 5 and concludes,

Mais pourtant
Repentant
Si tu viens
Kt tc ticns
Sculcment
Uu inomciit

SCARRON. 361

Avec nous
Mon courroux
Finira ,
Et C-etera.

The Roman Comique of our author abounds wilh pleasantry, with
wit and character. His " Virgilc Travcsti" it is impossible to read
long : this we likewise feel in " Cotton's Virgil travestied ," which
has notwithstanding considerable merit. Buffoonery after a certain
time exhausts our patience. It is the chaste actor only who can keep
the attention awake for a length of time. It is said that Scarron in-
tended to write a tragedy ; this perhaps would not have been the
least facetious of his burlesques.

PETER GORNEILLE.

Exact Raciuc and Cokkeille's noble fire
Show'd us that Frauce had something to admire.

Pope.

The great Corneille having finished his studies , devoted himself
to the bar 5 but this was not the stage on which his abilities were to
be displayed. He followed the occupation of a lawyer for some time,
without taste and without success. A trifling circumstance disco-
vered to the world and to himself a different genius. A young man
who was in love with a girl of the same town , having solicited him
to be his companion in one of those secret visits which he paid to the
lady, it happened that the stranger pleased infinitely more than his
introducer. The pleasure arising from this adventure excited in Cor-
neille a talent which had hitherto been unknown to him , and he at-
tempted, as if it were by inspiration, dramatic poetry. On this little
subject , he wrote his comedy of Melite , in 1625. At that moment
the French drama was at a low ebb : the most favourable ideas were
formed of our juvenile poet , and comedy, it was expected , would
now reach its perfection. After the tumult of approbation had ceased,
the critics thought that Melite was too simple and barren of inci-
dent. Roused by this criticism , our poet wrote his Clitandre, and in
that piece has scattered incidents and adventures with such a licen-
tious profusion , that the critics say he wrote it rather to expose the
public taste than to accommodate himself to it. In this piece the
persons combat on the theatre ^ there are murders and assassinations ^
heroines fight ; officers appear in search of murderers , and w omen
are disguised as men. There is matter sufficient for a romance of
ten volumes j " And yet, ' says a French critic, " nothing can be
more cold and tiresome.' He afterwards indulged his natural genius
in various others performances ; but began to display more forcibly

36i PETER COR]\EILLE.

his tragic powers in Medea. A comedy which he afterwards wrote
was a very indifferent composition. He regained his full lustre in the
famous Cid, a tragedy, of which he preserved in his closet translations
in all the European languages, except the Sclavonian and the Turk-
ish. He pursued his poetical career with uncommon splendour in
the Horaces , Cinna, and at length in Polyeucte ; which productions,
the French critics say, can never be surpassed.

At length the tragedy of " Pertharite " appeared , and proved un-
successful. This so much disgusted our veteran bard , that , like Ben
Jonson , he could not conceal his chagrin in the preface. There the
poet tells us that he renounces the theatre for ever ! and indeed this
eternity lasted for se'^'eral years !

Disgusted by the fate of his unfortunate tragedy, he directed his
poetical pursuits to a ditferent species of composition. He now finish-
ed his translation in verse, of the " Imitation of Jesus Christ, by
Thomas i Kempis.'' This work , perhaps from the singularity of its
dramatic author becoming a religious writer, was attended with as-
tonishing success. Yet Fontenelle did not find in this translation the
prevaihng charm of the original , which consists in that simplicity
and naivete which are lost in the pomp of versification so natural to
Corneille. " This book ," he continues , " the finest that ever pro-
ceeded from the hand of man (since the gospel does not come from
man ) would not go so direct to the heart, and would not seize on it
with such force , if it had not a natural and tender air, to which even
that negligence which prevails in the style greatly contributes."
Voltaire appears to confirm the opinion of our critic , in respect to
the translation : " It is reported that Corneille's translation of the
Imitation of Jesus Christ has been printed thirty-two times-, it is as
diflicuit to believe this as it is to read the book once!""

Corneille seems not to have been ignorant of the truth of this cri-
ticism. In his dedication to the Pope, he says, "■ The translation
w hich I have chosen , by the simplicity of its style , precludes all the
rich ornaments of poetry, and far from increasing my reputation,
nuist be considered rather as a sacrifice made to the glory of the So-
vereign Author of all, which I may have acquired by my poetical
productions." This is an excellent elucidation of the truth of that
precept of Johnson which respects religious poetry ; but of which
the author of " Calvary" seemed not to have been sensible. The
merit of religious compositions ap|)ears, like this " Imitation of
Jesus Christ," to consist in a simijficily inimical to the higher poe-
tical eiybellishmcnts ^ these are too human !

When Racine, the son, published a long poem on " Grace,"
taken in its holy sense, a most unhappy su[)iect at least for poetry, it
was said that he had written on Grace without nrace. *

PETER CORPiEILLE. 363

During the space of six years Corneille rigorously kept his pro-
mise of not w riling for the theatre. At lenglii , overpowered by the
persuasions of liis friends, and proI)ably by his own inclinations , he
once more directed his studies to the drama. He recommenced in
1659, and finished in 1675. During this time he wrote ten new
pieces , and published a variety of little religious poems , which ,
although they do not attract the attention of posterity, were then
read with delight , and probably preferred to the finest tragedies by
the good catholics of the day.

In 1675 he terminated his career. In the last year of his life his
mind became so enfeebled as to be incapable of thinking ; and he
died in extreme poverty. It is true that his uncommon genius had
been amply rewarded ; but amongst his talents that of preserving
the favours of fortune he had not acquired.

Fonlenelle, his nephew , presents a minute and interesting des-
cription of this great man. Vigneul de Marville says, that when he
saw Corneille he had the appearance of a country tradesman , and he
could not conceive how a man of so rustic an appearance could put
into the mouths of his Romans such heroic sentiments. Corneille was
sulTiciently large and full in his person ; his air simple and vulgar ;
alw ays negligent •, and very Utile solicitous of pleasing by his exte-
rior. His face had something agreeable, his nose large, his mouth not
unhandsome, his eyes full of fire, his physiognomy lively, \s ith strong
features , well adapted to be transmitted to posterity on a medal or
bust. His pronunciation was not very distinct : and he read his verses
with force , but w ithout grace.

He was acquainted with polite literature, with history, and poli-
tics ; but he generally knew' them best as they related to the stage.
For other know ledge he had neither leisure , curiosity, nor much
esteem. He spoke Uttle, even on subjects which he perfectly under-
stood. He did not embellish what he said, and to discover the great
Corneille it became necessary to read him.

He was of a melancholy disposition , had something blunt in his
manner, and sometimes he appeared rude •, but in fact he w as no dis-
agreeable companion, and made a good father and husband. He was
tender, and his soul was very susceptible of friendship. His consti-
tution was very favourable to love , but never to debauchery, and
rarely to violent attachments. His soul was fierce and independent : it
could never be managed, for it w ould never bend. This indeed ren-
dered him very capable of portraying Roman virtue, but incapable
of improving his fortune. Nothing equalled his incapacity for busi-
ness but his aversion : the slightest troubles of this kind occasioned
him alarm and terror. He was never satiated with praise , although

3G4 PETER CORNEILLE.

he was continually receiving it ^ but if he was sensible to fame , he
was far removed from vanity.

What Fontenelle observes of Corncille's love of fame is strongly
proved by our great poet himself, in an epistle to a friend, in which
we find the following remarkable description of himself 5 an instance
that what the world calls vanity, at least interests in a great genius.

Nous nous aimons un peu , c'est notrc foible a tous ;

Le prix que nous valons qui le sait mleux que nous ?

Et puis la mode en est , et la cour I'autorise ;

Nous parlous de nous-memo avec toute franchise ,

La fausse Lumilitti ne met plus en credit.

Je sais ce que je vaux,et crois ce qu'on ni'en dit,

Pour me faire admirer je ne fais point dc ligue ^

J'ai peu de voix pour moi, mais je les ai sans briguc j

Et mon ambltiou , pour faire plus de bruit

Ne les va point queter de reduit en reduit.

Mon travail sans appui montc sur le theatre,

Chacun en liberte I'y blame ou I'idolatre ,

La, sans que mes amis prechcut Icurs scutimoos ,

J'arrache quelquefois leurs applaudissemeus ;

La , content du succes que le merite donne.

Par d'illustres avis je u'eblouis personue;

Je satisfais ensemble et peuple et courtisans ;

Et mes vers en tous lieux sont mes sculs partisans ;

Par leur seule beaute ma plume est estimee ;

Je ne dois qu'a moi seul toute ma reuommee;

Et pense toutefois u'avoir point de rival,

A qui je fasse tort , en le traitant d'egal.

I give his sentiments in English verse.

Self love prevails too much in every state;

Who , like ourselves , our secret worth can rate ?

Since 'tis a fashion authorised at court ,

Frankly our merits we ourselves report.

A proud humility will not deceive ;

1 know my worth; what others say, believe.

To be admired 1 form ho petty league :

Few are my friends, but gaiu'd without intrigue.

My bold .ambition, destitute of grace ,

Scornii still to beg their votes from place to place .

On tlie fair stage my scenic toils I raise ,

While each is free to censure or to praise :

And there, unaided by inferior arts,

I snatch the applause tliat rushes from tlieir he.iit.'-.

Content by merit still to wlu the crown ,

Witli no illustrious names 1 cheat the town.

The galleries thunder, and the pit couniiends ;

My verses , every where , my only friends !
Tis from llicir charms alone my praise I < l.iini :

'Tis to myself alone , I owe my fame ;

And know no rival whom I fear to mecl ,

Or injure , wlien I giaul an equal ital,

PETER CORNEILLE. 366

Yollairo censures Corneille for making his heroes say continually
they are great men. But in drawing the character of an hero he
draws his own. All his heroes are only so many Corncilles in diffe-
rent situations.

Thomas Corneille attempted the same career as his brother : per-
haps his name was unfortunate, for it naturally excited a compa-
rison which could not be favourable to him. Gagon , the Dennis of
his day, wrote the following smart impromptu under his portrait : —

Voyant le portrait de Corueille ,
Gardez-vous de crier merveille I
Et dans vos transports u'allez pas
Prendre ici Pierre pour Thomas.

POETS.

In all ages there has existed an anti-poetical party. This faction
consists of those frigid intellects incapable of that glowing expansion
so necessary to feel Ihc charms of an art , which only addresses itself
to the imagination; or of writers who, having proved unsuccessful
in their court to the muses, revenge themselves by reviling them ^
and also of those religious minds who consider the ardent effusions
of poetry as dangerous to the morals and peace of society.

Plato , amongst the ancients , is the model of those moderns who
profess themselves to be anti-poetical.

This writer, in his ideal republic , characterises a man who occu-
pies himself with composing verses as a very dangerous member of
society, from the inflammatory tendency of his writings. It is by
arguing from its abuse , that he decries this enchanting talent. At
the same time it is to be recollected , that no head was more finely
organised for the visions of the muse than Plato's : he was a true
poet , and had addicted himself in his prime of hfe to the cultivation
of the art, but perceiving that he could not surpass his inimitable
original , Homer, he employed this insidious manner of deprecia-
ting his works. In the Phaedrus he describes the feehngs of a genuine
Poet. To become such , he says , it will never be sufTcient to be
guided by the rules of art , unless we also feel the ecstasies of that
fiu'or, almost divine , which in this kind of composition is the most
palpable and least ambiguous character of a true inspiration. Cold
minds , ever tranquil and ever in possession of themselves , are in-
capable of producing exalted poetry ; their verses must always be
feeble , diffusive , and leave no impression ; the verses of those w ho
are endowed w ith a strong and lively imagination , and who , like
Homer's personification of Discord, have their heads incessantly in
the skies , and their feel on the earth , will agitate you , burn in

366 POETS.

your heart , and drag you along with Ihem :, breaking like an iinpe-
luous torrent, and swelling your breast with that enthusiasm with
which they are themselves possessed.

Such is the character of a poet in a poetical age! — The tuneful
race have many corporate bodies of mechanics ; Pontipool manufac-
tures, inlayers, burnishers, gilders, and filers!

Men of taste are sometimes disgusted in turning over the works
of the anti-poetical, by meeting with gross railleries and false judg-
ments concerning poetry and poets. Locke has expressed a marked
contempt of poets ^ but we see what ideas he formed of poetry by
his warm panegyric of one of Blackmore's epics ! and besides he
was himself a most unhappy poet I Selden, a scholar of profound
erudition, has given us /lis opinion concerning poets. "It is ridi-
culous for a lord to print verses; he may make them to please
himself. If a man in a private chamber twirls his band-strings , or
plays with a rush to please himself, it is well enough ; but if he
should go into Fleet-street , and sit upon a stall and twirl a band-
string , or play with a rush , then all the boys in the street w ould
laugh at him." — As if "the subhme and the beautiful " can endure
a comparison with the twirling of a band-string, or playing with a
rush ! — A poet , related to an illustrious family, and who did not
write unpoetically, entertained a far ditTerent notion concerning
poets. So persuaded was he that to be a true poet required an ele-
vated mind , that it was a maxim w ith him that no writer could be
an excellent poet who was not descended from a noble family. This
opinion is as absurd as that of Selden's : — but when one party will
not grant enough , the other always assumes too much. The great
Pascal , whose extraordinary genius was discovered in the sciences ,
knew little of the nature of poetical beauty. He said "Poetry has no
settled object." This was the decision of a geometrician , not of a
poet. "Why should he speak of what he did not understand? " ask-
ed the lively Voltaire. Poetry is not an object which comes under
the cognisance of philosophy or wit.

Longuerue had profound erudition ; but he decided on poetry
in the same manner as those learned men. Nothing so strongly cha-
racterises such literary men as the following observations in the
Longuerana, p. 170.

"There are two boohs on Homer, which I prefer to Homer
himself. The first is ylntiquitates Homericce of Feithius, where
he has extracted everything relative to the usages and customs of
the Greeks \ the other is , Honieri Gjioniologia per Duportuni ,
printed alCambridge. In these twobooksis found everythingvaluable
in Homer, without being obliged to get through his Contes a dor-
luir debcnit ! " Thus men o[ science decide on men of taste! There

POETS. 3C7

«rc who study Homer and Virgil as (he blind travel througli a nne
country, merely to get to the end of (heir journey. It was observed
at the death of Longucrue that in his immense library not a volume
of poetry was to be found. He had formerly read poetry, for in-
deed he had read everything. Racine tells us , that when young he
paid him a visit ; the conversation turned on poets; our enidii
reviewed them all with the most ineffable contempt of the poetical
talent , from which he said we learn notliing. He seemed a little
charitable towards Ariosto. — "As for that /tiadmau ,'' said he ^ he
has amused me sometimes." Dacier, a poetical pedant after all , was
asked who was the greater poet, Homer or Virgil? he honestly
answered , '■'■ Homer by a thousand years I "

But it is mortifying to find among the anti-poetical even poets
themselves I Malherbe , the first poet in France in his day, appears
little to have esteemed the art. He used to say that '^ a good poet
was not more useful to the stale than a skilful player of nine-pins I"
Malherbe wrote with costive labour. When a poem was shown to
him which had been highly commended, he sarcastically asked if
it would ''lower the price of bread?" In these instances he niali-
ciously confounded the useful with the agreeable arts. Be it re-
membered , that IMalherbe had a cynical heart, cold and unfeeling;
his character may be traced in his poetry 5 labour, and correctness ,
without one ray of enthusiasm.

Le Clerc was a scholar not entirely unworthy to be ranked amongst
the Lockes , the Seldens , and the Longuerues :, and his opinions are
as just concerning poets. In the Parrliasiana he has written a treatise
on poets in a very unpoetical manner. 1 shall notice his coarse rail-
leries relating to what he calls '• the personal defects of poets." In
vol. i. p. 33, he says, ''In tlie Scaligerana we have Joseph Scali-
ger's opinion concerning poets. ' There never was a man who was
a poet, or addicted to the study of poetry, but his heart was puffed
up with his greatness.' — This is very true. The poetical enthusiasm
persuades those gentlemen , that they have something in them supe-
rior to others, because they employ a language peculiar to themselves.
When the poetic furor seizes them , its traces frequently remain on
their faces , which make connoisseurs say w ith Horace ,

Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit.
There goes a madmau or a bard !

Their thoughtful air and melancholy gait make them appear insane ;
for, accustomed to versify while they walk , and to bite their nails in
apparent agonies , their steps are measured and slow, and they look
as if they were reflecting on something of consequence , although
they are only thinking, as the phrase runs , of nothing I" I have

368 POETS.

only transcribed the above description of our jocular scholar, with
an intention of describing those exterior marks of that fine en-
thusiasm , of which the poet is peculiarly susceptible , and which
have exposed many an elevated genius to the ridicule of the vulgar.
I find this admirably defended by Charpentier : "Men may ridi-
cule as much as they please those gesticulations and contortions
which poets are apt to make in the act of composing ] it is certain ,
however, that they greatly assist in putting the imagination into
motion. These kinds of agitation do not always show a mind which
labours with its sterility^ they frequently proceed from a mind which
excites and animates itself. Quintilian has nobly compared them to
those lashings of his tail which a lion gives himself when he is
preparing to combat. Persius , when he would give us an idea of
a cold and languishing oration , says that its author did not strike
his desk nor bite his nails,

Nee pluteuin caedit , nee demorsos sapit ungues."

These exterior marks of enthusiasm may be illustrated by the
following curious anecdote : — Domenichino , the painter, was ac-
customed to act the characters of all the figures he would represent
on his canvass , and to speak aloud whatever the passion he meant
to describe could prompt. Painting the martyrdom of St. Andrew,
Carracci one day caught him in a violent passion , speaking in a
terrible and menacing tone. He was at that moment employed on
a soldier who was threatening the saint. When this fit of enthusiastic
abstraction had passed , Carracci ran and embraced him , acknow-
ledging that Domenichino had been that day his master ; and that
he had learnt from him the true manner to succeed in catching the
expression — that great pride of the painter's art.

Thus different are the sentiments of the intelligent and the unin
lelligent on the same subject. A Carracci embraced a kindred genius
for what a Le Clerc or a Selden would have ridiculed.

Poets, I confess, frequently indulge reveries , which, thougii
they offer no charms to their friends , are too delicious to forego.
In the ideal world , peopled with all its fairy inhabitants , and ever
open to their contemplation , they travel with an unwearied foot.
Crebillon , the celebrated tragic poet , was enamoured of solitude ,
that he might there indulge , without interruption , in those fine
romances with which his imagination teemed. One day when he
was in a deep reverie , a friend entered hastily : "Don't disturb
me," cried the poet^ "I auj enjoying a moment of happiness .
I am going to hang a villain of a minister, and banish another who
is an idiot."

Anjongst the anli-pooliral may bo placed the father of (ho groat

POETS. 369

monarch of Prussia. George the Second was not more the avowed ene-
my of the muses. Frederic w ould not sulTcr the prince to read verses ^
and when he was desirous of study, or of tlie conversation of hterary
men , he was obliged to do it secretly. Every poet was odious to his
majesty. One day, having observed some lines written on one of the
doors of the palace, he asked a courtier their signification. They
were explained to him ; they w ere Latin verses composed by Wach-
ter, a man of letters , then resident at BerUn. The king immediately
sent for the bard , w ho came w arm with the hope of receiving a
reward for his ingenuity. He was astonished, however, to hear
the king, in a violent passion, accost him, " I order you imme-
diately to quit this city and my kingdom." Wachter took refuge in
Hanover. As hltle indeed was this anti-poetical monarch a friend
to philosophers. Two or three such kings might perliaps renovate
the ancient barbarism of Europe. Barratier, the celebrated child ,
was presented to his majesty of Prussia as a prodigy of erudition ^
the king , to mortify our ingenious youth , coldly asked him , " If
he knew the law ? " The learned boy was constrained to acknowledge
that he knew nothing of law . " Go ," was the reply of this Augus-
tus, "go, and study it before you give yourself out as a scholar '
Poor Barratier renounced for this pursuit his other studies, and
persevered w ith such ardour that he became an excellent lawyer at
the end of fifteen months ^ but his exertions cost him at the same
lime his Hfe I

Every monarch, however, has not proved so destitute of poetic
sensibility as this Prussian. Francis I. gave repeated marks of his
attachment to the favourites of the muses , by composing several
occasional sonnets, which are dedicated to their eulogy. Andrehn ,
a French poet, enjoyed the happy fate ofOppian, to whom the
emperor Caracalla counted as many pieces of gold as there were
verses in one of his poems ; and with great propriety they have
been cafied " golden verses." Andrehn , when he recited his poem
on the Conquest of Naples before Charles VIII. , received a sack of
silver coin , which with difficulty he carried home. Charles IX. ,
says Brantome , loved verses , and recompensed poets ^ not indeed
immediately, but gradually, that they might always be stimulated
to excel. He used to say, that poets resembled racehorses, that must
be fed but not fattened , for then they were good for nothing. Marot
was so much esteemed by kings , that he was called the poet of
princes, and the prince of poets.

In the early state of poetry what honours were paid to its votaries !
Ronsard , the French Chaucer, was the first who carried away the
prize at the Floral games. This meed of poetic honour was an eglan-
tine composed of silver. The reward did not appear equal to the

I. 24

870 POETS.

merit of the work and the reputation of the poet •, and on this occa-
sion the city of Toulouse had a Minerva of solid silver struck , of
considerable value. This image was sent to Ronsard , accompa-
nied by a decree , in which he was declared , by way of eminence ,
"The French poet."

It is a curious anecdote to add, that when, at a later period, a
similar Minerva was adjudged to Maynard for his verses , the Capi-
touls of Toulouse , who were the executors of the Floral gifts , to
their shame , out of covetousness , never obeyed the decision of the
poetical judges. This circumstance is noticed by Maynard in an epi-
gram , which bears this title : On a Minerva of silver, promised
but not given.

The anecdote of IMargaret of Scotland , wife of the Dauphin of
France, and Alain the poet, is generally known. Who is not charm-
ed with that fine expression of her poetical jsensibility ? The person
of Alain was repulsive , but his poetry had attracted her affections.
Passing through one of the halls of the palace , she saw him sleeping
on a bench ; she approached and kissed him. Some of her atten-
dants could not concear their astonishment that she should press
with her lips those of a man so frightfully ugly. The amiable prin-
cess answered, smiling, "• I did not kiss the man , but the mouth
which has uttered so many fine things."

The great Colbert paid a pretty compliment to Boileau and Ra-
cine. This minister, at his villa, was enjoying the conversation of
our two poets, when the arrival of a prelate was announced : turn-
ing quickly to the servant , he said , "Let him be shown every
thing except myself! "

To such attentions from this great minister, Boileau alludes in
these verses : —

Plus d'un grand m'aima jusques a la tendressc ;
Et ina vuc a Colbert inspiroit I'allegresse.

Several pious persons have considered it as highly meritable to
abstain from the reading of poetry ! A good father, in his accour)t of
the last hours of Madame Racine , the lady of the celebrated tragic
poet , pays high compliments to her rchgious disposition , which ,
he says , was so austere , that she would not allow herself to read
poetry , as she considered it to be a dangerous pleasure ; and ho
highly commends her for never having read the tragedies of her hus-
band ! Arnault , though so intimately connected with Racine for
many years, had not read his compositions. When, at length, he
was persuaded to read Phaidra , he declared himself to be delighted,
but complained (hat the poet had set a dangerous example , in mak-
ing the manly llypolilus dwindle loan elVeniinale lover. As a critic.

POETS. 371

Arnauld was right 5 but Racine had his nation to please. Such per-
sons entertain notions of poetry similar to tiiat of an ancient father,
who calls poetry the wine of Satan ; or to that of the religious and
austere Nicole , who was so ahly answered by Racine : he said, that
dramatic poets were pubhc poisoners, not of bodies, but of souls.

Poets , it is acknowledged , have foibles peculiar to themselves.
They sometimes act in the daily commerce of life as if every one
was concerned in the success of their productions. Poets are too
frequently merely poets. Segrais has recorded that the following
maxim of Rochefoucault was occasioned by reflecting on the cha-
racters of Boileau and Racine. " It displays," he writes, " a great
poverty of mind to have only one kind of genius." On this Segrais
observes, and Segrais knew them intimately, that their conversa-
tion only turned on poetry ; take them from that , and they knew
nothing. It was thus with one Du Perrier, a good poet , but very
poor. When he was introduced to Pelisson , who wished to be ser-
viceable to him, the minister said, " In what can he be employed?
He is only occupied by his verses."

All these complaints are not unfounded 5 yet, perhaps , it is unjust
to expect from an excelling artist all the petty accomplishments of
frivolous persons , who have studied no art but that of practising on
the weaknesses of their friends. The enthusiastic votary, who devotes
his days and nights to meditations on his favourite art , will rarely
be found that despicable thing, a mere man of the world. Du Bos has
justly observed, that men of genius, born for a particular profes-
sion , appear inferior to others when they apply themselves to other
occupations. That absence of mind which arises from their continued
attention to their ideas , renders them awkward in their manners .
Such defects are even a proof of the activity of genius.

It is a common foible with poets to read their verses to friends.
Segrais has ingeniously observed, to use his own words, " When
young I used to please myself in reciting my verses indifferently to
all persons ^ but I perceived when Scarron , who was my intimate
friend, used to take his portfolio and read his verses to me, although
they were good , I frequently became weary. I then reflected , that
those to whom I read mine , and who , for the greater part , had no
taste for poetry , must experience the same disagreeable sensation.
I resolved for the future to read my verses only to those who entreat-
ed me , and to read but few at a time. We flatter ourselves too
much •, we conclude that what pleases us must please others. We
will have persons indulgent to us , and frequently we will have no
indulgence for those who are in want of it." An excellent hint for
young poets , and for those old ones who carry odes and elegies in
their pockets, to inflict the pains of the torture on their friends.

372 POETS.

The affection which a poet feels for his verses has been frequently
extravagant. 13ayle , ridicuhng that parental tenderness which wri-
ters evince for their poetical compositions , tells us , that many ha-
ving written epitaphs on friends whom they believed on report to
have died, could not determine to keep them in their closet, but
suffered them to appear in the lifetime of those very friends whose
death they celebrated. In another place he says, that such is their
infatuation for their productions, that they prefer giving to the
public their panegyrics of persons whom afterwards they satirised ,
rather than suppress the verses which contain those panegyrics. We
have many examples of this in the poems , and even in the episto-
lary correspondence of modern writers. It is customary with most
authors , when they quarrel with a person after the first edition of
their work, to cancel his eulogies in the next. But poets and letter-
writers frequently do not do this •, because they are so charmed with
the happy turn of their expressions , and other elegancies of com-
position , that they prefer the praise which they may acquire for
their style to the censure which may follow from their inconsistency.

After having given a hint to young poets , I shall offer one to
veterans. It is a common defect with them that they do not know
when to quit the muses in their advanced age. Bayle says , " Poets
and orators should be mindful to retire from their occupations ,
which so peculiarly require the fire of imagination ; yet it is but
too common to see them in their career, even in the decline of life.
It seems as if they would condemn the public to drink even the
lees of their nectar." Afer and Daurat were both poets who had
acquired considerable reputation , but which they overturned when
they persisted to write in their old age without vigour and without
fancy.

What crowds of these impenitently bold ,

In sounds aud jingling syllables grown old ,

They run on poets, in a raging vein.

E'en to tiie dregs and squeezings of tlie brain :

Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense ,

And rhyme with all tlie rage of irapotcnre.

Pope.

It is probable he had Wychcrley in his eye when he wrote this.
The veteran bard latterly scribbled much indilTerent verse ; and Pope
had freely given his opinion , by which he lost his friendship I

It is still worse when aged poets devote their exhausted talents
to divine poems , as did Waller ; and Milton in his second epic.
Such poems, observes Voltaire , are frequently entitled ^'■sacred
poems \ " and sacred they are , for no one touches them. From a
soil so arid what can be expected but insipid fruits ? Corncille told

POETS. 673

Clievreaii several years helore his death , thai he had taken leave of
the theatre , for he had lost his poetical powers with his teeth.

Poets have sometimes displayed an obliquity of taste in their fe-
male favourites. As if conscious of the power of ennoblinc; others,
some liave selected them from the lowest classes , whoni havinj; ele-
vated into divinities , they have addressed in the language of poetical
devotion. The Chloe of Prior, after all his raptures, was a plump
bar-maid, Ronsard addressed many of his verses to Miss Cassandra,
who followed the same occupation : in one of his sonnets to her, he
fills it with a crowd of personages taken from the Iliad, whi(4i to the
honest girl must have all been extremely mysterious. Colletet , a
French bard, married three of his servants. His last lady was called
la belle Claiidine. Ashamed of such menial alliances , he attempt-
ed to persuade the world that he had married the tenth muse ^ and
for this purpose publislied verses in her name. When he died, the
vein of Claudine became suddenly dry. She indeed published her
" Adieux to the Muses 5" but it was soon discovered that all the verses
of this lady, including her*" Adieux," were the compositions of
her husband. ,

Sometimes , indeed , the ostensible mistresses of poets have no
existence; and a slight occasion is sufficient to give birth to one.
Racan and Malherbe were one day conversing on their amours ; that
is , of selecting a lady who should be the object of their verses. Ra-
can named one, and Malherbe another. It happening that both had
the same name, Catharine, they passed the whole afternoon in form-
ing it into an anagram. They found three : Arlhenice, Eracinfhe,
and Charinte. The first was preferred ; and many a line ode was writ-
ten in praise of the beautiful Arthenice !

Poets change their opinions of their ow n productions wonderfully
at different periods of life. Baron Haller was in his youth warmly
attached to poetic composition. His house was on fire, and to resc,u&
his poems he rushed through the flames. He was so fortunate as to
escape with his beloved manuscripts in his hand. Ten years after-
wards he condemned to the flames those very poems which he had
ventured his life to preserve.

Satirists , if they escape (he scourges of the law, have reason to
dread the cane of the satirised. Of this kind we have many anecdotes
on record ; but none more poignant than the following : — Benserade
was caned for lampooning the Duke d'Epcrnon. Some days after-
wards he appeared at court , but being still lame from the rough
treatment he had received, he was forced to support himself by a
cane. A wit, who knew what had passed, whispered the affair to
the queen. She , dissembling , asked him if he had the gout ? " Yes ,
madam," replied our lame satirist, " and therefore I make use of

374 ROMANCES.

a cane." " Not so ," inlerrupled the malignant Bautrii, " Benscrade
in this imitates those holy martyrs who are always represented with
the instrument which occasioned their sufferings."

ROMANCES.

Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of Fiction
and Love. Men of learning have amused themselves with tracing
the epocha of romances ; but the erudition is desperate which would
ilx on the inventor of the first romance : for what originates in na-
ture , who shall hope to detect the shadowy outlines of its begin-
nings? The Theagenes and Chariclea of Heliodorus appeared in the
fourth century ; and this elegant prelate was the Grecian Fenelon.
It has been prettily said, that posterior romances seem to be the
children of the marriage of Theagenes and Chariclea. The Romance
of "The Golden Ass," by Apuleius, which contains the beautiful
tale of " Cupid and Psyche," remains unrivalled ; while the "Daphne
and Chloe" of Longus , in the old version of Amiot, is inexpressibly
delicate , simple , and inartificial , but sometimes offends us , for na-
ture fliere " plays her virgin fancies."

Beautiful as these compositions are , when the imagination of the
writer is sufficiently stored with accurate observations on human na-
ture , in their birth , like many of the fine arts , the zealots of an
ascetic religion opposed their progress. However Heliodorus may
have delighted those who were not insensible to the felicities of a fine
imagination , and to the enchanting elegancies of style , he raised
himself, among his brother ecclesiastics, enemies, who at length
so far prevailed , that , in a synod , it Avas declared that his per-
formance was dangerous to young persons , and that if the author
did not suppress it , he must resign his bishopric. We are told he
preferred his romance to his bishopric. Even so late as in Racine's
lime it was held a crime to peruse these unhallowed pages. He
informs us that the first effusions of his muse were in consequence
of studying that ancient romance , which his tutor observing him to
devour with the keenness of a famished man, snatched from his hands
and flung it in the fire. A second copy experienced the same fate.
What could Racine do ? He bought a third , and took the precaution
of devouring it secretly till he got it by heart ; after which he offered
it to the pedagogue with a smile , to burn like the others.

The decision of these ascetic bigots was founded in their opinion
of the jmmoralily of such works. They alleged that the writers paint
too warmly to the imagination, address themselves too forcibly to
the passions , and in general , by the freedom of their representa-
tions , hover on the borders of indecency. Let it be sufficient, how-

UOMANCES. 375

ever, lo observe, llial those who condemned the hherlies wiiich these
writers lake with the inuiginalion could indulge tliemselvcs with ttic
Anacreontic voluptuousness of the wise Solomon , when sanctioned
by the authority of the church.

The marvellous pow er of romance over the human mind is exem-
plified in this curious anecdote of oriental literature.

Mahomet found they had such an influence over the imaginations
of his followers , that he has expressly forbidden them in his Koran ;
and the reason is given in the following anecdote: — An Arabian
merchant having long resided in Persia, returned to his own country
while the prophet was publishing his Koran. The merchant , amon^
his other riches , had a treasure of romances concerning the Persian
lieroes. These he related to his delighted countrymen , who consi-
dered them to be so excellent , that the legends of the Koran were
neglected, and they plainly told the prophet that the "Persian
Tales" were superior to his. Alarmed, he immediately had a visi-
tation from the angel Gabriel , declaring them impious and perni-
cious , hateful to God and Mahomet. This checked their currency ;
and all true believers yielded up the exquisite delight of poetic fic-
tions for the insipidity of religious ones. Yet these romances may be
said to have outlived the Koran itself; for they have spread into
regions which the Koran could never penetrate. Even to this day
Colonel Capper, in his travels across the Desert, saw "Arabians
sitting round a fire , listening to their tales w ith such attention and
pleasure , as totally to forget the fatigue and hardship w ith w hich an
instant before they were entirely overcome." And Wood, in his
journey to Palmyra: — "At night the Arabs sat in a circle drinking
coffee , w bile one of the company diverted the rest by relating a
piece of history on the subject of love or war, or w ith an extenjpore
tale."

]>Ir. Ellis has given us " Specimens of the Early English Metrical
Romances," and Rilson and Weber have printed two collections of
Ihcm entire, valued by the poetical antiquary. Learned inquirers
have traced the origin of romantic fiction to various sources. From
Scandinavia issued forth the giants , dragons , w itches , and enchan-
ters. The curious reader will be gratified by "Illustrations of Nor-
thern Antiquities," a volume in quarto ^ where he will find extracts
from "The Book of Heroes " and "The Njbelungen Lay," with
many other metrical tales from the old German, Danish , Swedish ,
and Icelandic languages. In the East, Arabian fancy bent her iris
of many-softened hues over a delightful land of fiction \ while the
Welsh , in their emigration to Britany, are believed lo have brouglit
with them their national fables. That subsequent race of minstrels,
known bv the name of Troubadours in the South of France , com-

376 ROMANCES.

posed their erotic or sentimental poems ; and those romancers called
Troveurs , or finders , in the North of France , called and compiled
their domestic tales or Fabliaiix , Dks, Contes, or Lais. Millot ,
Sainfe Palaye, and Le Grand have preserved , in their " Histories
of the Troubadours ," their literary compositions. They were a ro-
mantic race of ambulatory poets ; miUtary and religious subjects
their favourite themes , yet bold and satirical on princes , and even
on priests ; severe moralisers , though libertines in their verse ; so
refined and chaste in their manners, that few husbands were alarmed
at the enthusiastic language they addressed to their wives. The most
romantic incidents are told of their loves. But love and its grosser
passion were clearly distinguished from each other in their singular
intercourse with their " Dames." The object of their mind was se-
parated from the object of their senses ^ the virtuous lady to whom
they vowed their hearts was in their language styled " la dame de
ses pensees /' a very distinct being from their other mistress I Such
was the Platonic chimera that charmed in the age of chivalry •, the
Laura of Petrarch might have been no other than " the lady of his
thoughts."

From such productions in their improved state poets of all nations
have drawn their richest inventions. The agreeable wildness of that
fancy which characterised the Eastern nations was often caught by
the crusaders. When they returned home, they mingled in their own
the customs of each country. The Saracens, being of another reli-
gion , brave , desperate , and fighting for their father-land , were
enlarged to their fears , under the tremendous form of Paynim
Giants , while the reader of that day followed with trembUng sym-
pathy the Red-cross Knight. Thustiction embellished religion, and
religion invigorated fiction 5 and such incidents have enlivened the
cantos of Ariosto , and adorned the epic of Tasso. Spenser is the
child of their creation ; and it is certain that we are indebted to them
for some of the bold and strong touches of Milton. Our great poet
marks his affection for " these lofty Fables and Romances, among
which his young feet wandered." Collins was bewildered among
their magical seductions ; and Dr. Johnson was enthusiastically de-
lighted by the old Spanish folio romance of " Felixmarte of Hirca-
nia," and similar works. The most ancient romances were origi-
nally composed in vetse before they were converted into prose : no
wonder that the lacerated members of the poet have been cherished
by the sympathy of poetical souls. Don Quixote's was a very agree-
able insanity.

The most voluminous of these ancient romances is "• Le Roman
dc Pcrceforcst." I have seen an edition in six small folio volumes ,
and its author has been called the French Homer by the writers of

ROMANCES. 377

his age. In the class of romances of chivalry, we have several trans-
lations in the black-leller. These books are \'ery rare, and their
price is as voluminous. It is extraordinary that these writers were so
unconscious of their future fame , that not one of their names has
travelled down to us. There were eager readers in their days , but
not a solitary bibliographer I All these romances now require some
Indulgence for their prolixity, and their Platonic amours ^ but they
have not been surpassed in the wildness of their inventions, the in-
genuity of their incidents , the simplicity of their style , and their
curious manners. Many a Homer lies hid among them ^ but a cele-
brated Italian critic suggested to me that many of the fables of Homer
are only disguised and degraded in the romances of chivalry. Those
who vilify them as only barbarous imitations of classical fancy con-
demn them as some do Gothic architecture , as mere corruptions of
a purer style : such critics form their decision by preconceived no-
tions ; they are but indifferent philosophers , and to us seem to be
deficient in imagination.
As a specimen I select two romantic adventures : —
The title of the extensive romance of Perceforest is , " The most
elegant, delicious, mellifluous, and dehghlful history of Percefo-
rest, King of Great Britain , etc." The most ancient edition is that
of 1528. The writers of these Gothic fables, lest they should be
considered as mere triflers, pretended to an allegorical meaning
concealed under the texture of their fable. From the following
adventure we learn the power of beauty in making ten days appear
d!!, yesterday I Alexander the Great in search of Perceforest, parts
with his knights in an enchanted wood , and each vows they will
not remain longer than one night in one place. Alexander, accom-
panied by a page , arrives at Sebilla's castle , who is a sorceress. He
is taken by her witcheries and beauty, and the page, by the lady's
maid , falls into the same mistake as his master, who thinks he is
there only one night. They enter the castle with deep wounds , and
issue perfectly recovered. I transcribe the latter part as a specimen
of the manner. When they were once out of the castle , the king
said , " Truly, Floridas , I know not how it has been with me ^ but
certainly Sebilla is a very honourable lady, and very beautiful , and
very charming in conversation. Sire, (said Roridas), it is true;
but one thing surprises me : — how is it that our wounds have
healed in one night ? I thought at least ten or fifteen days were
necessary. Truly, said the king, that is astonishing ! Now king
.Alexander met Gadiffer, king of Scotland , and the valiant knight
Le Tors. Well, said the king, have ye news of the king of England?
Ten days we have hunted him , and cannot find him out. How,
said Alexander, did we not separate je5fe/<:/«/ from each other? In

378 ROMANCES.

God's name , said Gadiffer, what means your majesty ? It is u^ii days'
Have a care what you say, cried the king. Sire, repUed Gadiffer, it
is so 5 ask Le Tors. On my honour, said Lc Tors , the king of
Scotland speaks truth. Then , said the king, some of us are enchant-
ed. Floridas, didst tliou not think we separated je5fe7Y/«x .? Truly,
truly, your majesty, I thought so ! But when I saw our wounds
healed in one night, I had some suspicion that we were enchanted^

In the old romance of Melusina, this lovely fairy, ( though to the
world unknown as such ) , enamoured of Count Raymond , marries
him , but first extorts, a solemn promise that he will never disturb
her on Saturdays. On those days the inferior parts of her body are
metamorphosed to that of a mermaid, as a punishment for a former
error. Agitated by the mahcious insinuations of a friend, his curio-
sity and his jealousy one day conduct him to the spot she retired to
at those times. It was a darkened passage in the dungeon of the
fortress. His hand gropes its way till it feels an iron gate oppose it ;
nor can he discover a single chink, but at length perceives by his
touch a loose nail \ he places his sword in its head and screws it
out. Through this hole he sees Melusina in the horrid form she is
compelled to assume. That tender mistress, transformed into a
monster bathing in a fount, flashing the spray of the water from a
scaly tail ! He repents of his fatal curiosity : she reproaches him ,
and their mutual happiness is for ever lost ! The moral design of the
tale evidently warns the lover to revere a TVomans Secret!

Such are the works which were the favourite amusements of our
English court , and which doubtless had a due effect in refining the
manners of the age , in diffusing that splendid military genius, and
that tender devotion to the fair sex , which dazzle us in the reign of
Edward III. and through that enchanting labyrinth of History
constructed by the gallant Froissart. In one of the revenue rolls of
Henry III. there is an entry of " Silver clasps and studs for his
majesty's i^veai booh of Romances.'''' Dr. Moore observes that the
enthusiastic admiration of chivalry which Edward III. manifested
during the whole course of his reign , was probably in some measure
owing to his having studied the clasped book in his great grand-
lather's library.

The Italian romances of the fourteenth century were spread
abroad in great numbers. They formed the })()lile literature of the
day. But if it is not permitted to authors freely to express their
ideas , and give full play to the imagination , these works nmst never
be placed in the study of llie rigid moralist. They, indeed, pushed
their indeli<;acy to the verge of grossness, and seemed rather to
s«H'k than to avoid scenes, winch a modern would blush to describe.
They, to employ the expression of one of their authors, were not

ROMANCES. 379

ashamed to name what God had created. Cinlhio , Bandello , and
others, hut chielly Roccaccio, rendered libertinism agreeable by
the fascinating charms of a polished style and a luxuriant imagi-
nation.

This , however, must not be admitted as an apology for immoral
works ^ for poison is not the less poison , even when delicious.
Such works were , and still continue to be , the favourites of a
nation stigmatised for being prone to impure amours. Tliey are still
curious in their editions , and arc not parsimonious in their price
for what they call an uncastrated copy# There are many Italians,
not literary men, who are in possession of an ample library of these
old novelists.

If we pass over the moral irregularities of these romances, we
may discover a rich vein of invention , which only requires to be
released from that rubbish which disfigures it, to become of an in-
valuablep rice. The Decamerones the Hecatommiti, and the JSo-
velle of these writers , translated into English , made no inconsi-
derable figure in the little library of our Shakspeare. Chaucer had
been a notorious imitator and lover of them. His " Knight's Tale"
is little more than a paraphrase of " Boccaccio's Teseoide." Fon-
taine has caught all their charms with all their Hcentiousness. From
such w orks , these great poets , and many of their contemporaries ,
frequently borrowed their plots \, not uncommonly kindled at their
flame the ardour of their genius •, but bending too submissively to
the taste of their age , in extracting the ore they have not purified
it of the alloy. The origin of these tales must be traced to the inven-
tions of the Trovcurs , who doubtless often adopted them from va-
rious nations. Of these tales, Le Grand has printed a curious collec-
tion ; and of the writers Mr. Ellis observes, in his preface to " Way's
Fabhaux ," that the authors of the " Cento Novelle Antiche ," Boc-
caccio , Bandello , Chaucer , Gower , — in short , the writers of all
Europe , have probably made use of the inventions of the elder
fablers. They have borrowed their gener.d outlines, which they
have filled up with colours of their own , and have exercised their
ingenuity in varying the drapery, in combining the groups , and in
forming them into more regular and animated pictures.

We now turn to the French romances of the last century, called
heroic, from the circumstance of their authors adopting the name
of some hero. The manners are the modern antique 5 and the cha-
racters are a sort of beings made out of the old epical , the Ar-
cadian pastoral , and the Pai;;sian sentimentality and affectalion of
the days of Voiture. The Astrea of D'Urfe greatly contributed to
their perfection.* As this work is founded on several curious circum-
stances . it shall be the subject of the following article 5 for it may bo

380 ROMANCES.

considered as a literary curiosity. The Astrea was followed by llic
illustrious Bassa, Artamene, or the great Cyrus, Clelia, etc. which,
though not adapted to the present age , once gave celebrity to their
authors ; and the Great Cyrus , in ten volumes , passed through
five or six editions. Their style, as well as that of the Astrea, is
diffuse and languid ^ yet Zaide , and the Princess of Cleves , are
master-pieces of the kind. Such works formed the first studies of
Rousseau , who , with his father, would sit up all night , till warned
by the chirping of the swallows how foolishly they had spent it !
Some incidents in his Nouvelle H^loise have been retraced to these
sources ; and they certainly entered greatly into the formation of his
character.

Such romances at length were regarded as pernicious to good
sense, taste, and literature. It was in this light they were considered
by Boileau , after he had indulged in them in his youth.

A celebrated Jesuit pronounced an oration against these works.
The rhetorician exaggerates and hurls his thunders on flowers. He
entreats the magistrates not to suffer foreign romances to be scat-
tered amongst the people , but to lay on them heavy penalties as on
prohibited goods •, and represents this prevailing taste as being more
pestilential than the plague itself. He has drawn a striking picture
of a family devoted to romance reading ; he there describes women
occupied day and night with their perusal ; children just escaped
from the lap of their nurse grasping in their little hands the fairy
tales 5 and a country squire seated in an old arm-chair, reading
to his family the most wonderful passages of the ancient works of
chivalry.

These romances went out of fashion with our square -cocked
hats ; they had exhausted the patience of the public , and from
them sprung novels. They attempted to allure attention by this
inviting title , and reducing their works from ten to two volumes.
The name of romance , including imaginary heroes and extravagant
passions, disgusted,- and they substituted scenes of domestic life,
and touched our common feelings by pictures of real nature. Heroes
were not now taken from the throne : they were sometimes even
sought after amongst the lowest ranks of the people. Scarron seems
to allude sarcastically to this degradation of the heroes of Fiction ^
for in hinting at a new comic history he had projected , he tells us
that he gave it up suddenly because he had " heard that his hero
had just been hanged at Mans."

Novels , as they were long manufactured , form a library of
illiterate authors for illiterate readers •, but as they are created by
genius , are precious to the philosopher. They paint the character
of an individual or the manners of the age more perfectly than any

ROMANCES. 38 1

Other species of composition : it is in novels wc observe as It were
passing under our own eyes the refined frivolity of the French ; the
gloomy and disordered sensibility of the German •, and the petty
intrigues of the modern Italian in some Venetian Novels. We have
shown the world that we possess writers of the first order in this
deHghtful province of Fiction and of Truth 5 for every Fiction
invented naturally must be true. After the abundant invective poured
on this class of books, it is time to settle for ever the controversy, by
asserting that these works of ficfion are among the most instructive
of every polished nation , and must contain all the useful truths of
human life, if composed with genius. They are pictures of the pas-
sions, useful to our youth to contemplate. That acute philosopher,
Adam Smith, has given an opinion most favourable to Novels.
" The poets and romance-writers who best paint the refinements
and delicacies of love and friendship , and of all other private and
domestic affections , Racine and Voltaire , Richardson , Marivaux ,
and Riccoboni, are in this case much better instructors than Zeno,
Chrysippus , or Epictetus."

The history of romances has been recently given by Mr. Dunlop,
with many pleasing details •, but this work should be accompanied
by the learned Lenglet du Fresnoy's " Bibliolh6que des Romans,"
published under the name of M. le C. Gordon de Percel ; which
will be found useful for immediate reference for titles , dates and
a copious catalogue of romances and novels to the year 1734.

THE ASTREA.

I BRING the Astrea forward to point out the ingenious manner by
which a fine imagination can veil the common incidents of life , and
turn whatever it touches into gold.

Honors d'Urf6 was the descendant of an illustrious family. His
brother Anne married Diana of Chateaumorand , the wealthy heiress
of another great house. After a marriage of no less duration than
twenty-two years, this union was broken by the desire of Anne him-
self, for a cause which the delicacy of Diana had never revealed. Anne
then became an ecclesiastic. Some time afterwards, Honor6, desi-
rous of retaining the great wealth of Diana in the family, addressed
this lady, and married her. This union , however, did not prove
fortunate. Diana , like the goddess of that name , was a huntress ,
continually surrounded by her dogs : — they dined with her at table
and slept with her in bed. This insupportable nuisance could not
be patiently endured by the elegant Honore. He was also disgusted
with the barrenness of the huntress Diana , who was only delivered
every year of abortions. He separated from her, and retired to Pied-

382 THE ASTREA

mont, where he passed his remaining days in peace, without feeling
the thorns of marriage and ambition rankling in his heart. In this
retreat he composed his Astrca ; a pastoral romance, which was the
admiration of Europe during half a century. It forms a striking
picture of human hfe , for the incidents are facts beautifully con-
cealed. They relate the amours and gallantries of the court of Henry
the Fourth. The personages in the Astrea display a rich invention ;
and the work might be still read , were it not for those wire-drawn
conversations , or rather disputations , which were then introduced
into romances. In a modern edition , the Abb6 Souchai has cur-
tailed these tiresome dialogues 5 the work still consists of ten duo-
decimos.

In this romance , Celidee , to cure the unfortunate Celidon , and
to deprive Thamire at the same time of every reason for jealousy,
tears her face with a pointed diamond , and disfigures it in so cruel
a manner, that she excites horror in the breast of Thamire ; but he
so ardently admires this exertion of virtue, that he loves her, hideous
as she is represented , still more than when she was most beautiful.
Heaven , to be just to these two lovers , restores the beauty of Celi-
dee; which is effected by a sympathetic powder. This romantic
incident is thus explained : — One of the French princes (Celidon) ,
when he returned from Italy , treated with coldness his amiable
princess (Celidee) ; this was the effect of his violent passion , which
had becom.e jealousy. The coolness subsisted till the prince was
imprisoned , for state affairs , in the wood of Yincennes. The prin-
cess, with the permission of the court, followed him into his con-
finement. This proof of her love soon brought back the wandering
heart and affections of the prince. The small-pox s^zed her ; which
is the pointed diamond, and the dreadful disfigurement of her face.
She was so fortunate as to escape being marked by this disease 5
which is meant by the sympathetic powder. This trivial incident is
happily turned into the marvellous : that a wife should choose to be
imprisoned with her husband is not singular ; to escape being
marked by the small-pox happens every day 5 but to romance , as
he has done , on such common circumstances , is beautiful and
ingenious.

D'Urfe, when a boy, is said to have been enamoured of Diana \
this indeed has been questioned. D'Urfe, however, was sent to the
island of Malta to enter into that order of knighthood-, and in his
absimce Diana was marri(Hl to Anne. What an aHliction for Honore
0(1 his return to see her married, and to his brother! His affection
did not diminish, but he concealed it in respectful silence. He had
some knowledge of his brother's unhappiness, and on this probably
founded his hopes. After several years, during which the modest

THE ASTREA. 383

Diana had uttered no complaint, Anne declared himself-, and shortly
afterwards Honor6, as we have noticed, married Diana.

Our autlior lias described the parties under this false appearance
of marriage. He assumes the names of Celadon and Svlvander, and
gives Diana those of Aslrea and Diana. He is Sylvandcr and she
Astrea while she is married to Anne ^ and he Celadon and she Diana
when the marriage is dissolved. Sylvander is represented always as a
lover who sighs secretly ; nor does Diana declare her passion till
overcome by the long sufferings of her faithful shepherd. For this
reason Astrea and Diana , as well as Sylvander and Celadon , go
together , prompted by the same despair , to the fountain of the

TRUTH OF LOVE.

Sylvandcr is called an unknown shepherd, who has no other
wealth than his flock , because our author was the youngest of his
family , or rather a knight of Malta who possessed nothing but ho-
nour.

Celadon in despair throws himself into a river ; this refers to his
voyage to Malta. Under the name of Alexis he displays the friend-
ship of Astrea for him , and all those innocent freedoms which passed
betw een them as relatives : from this circumstance he has contrived
a difficulty inimitably delicate.

Something of passion is to be discovered in these expressions of
friendship. When Alexis assumes the name of Celadon , he calls that
love which Astrea had mistaken for fraternal affection. This was the
trying moment. For though she loved him, she is rigorous in her
duty and honour. She says, "what will they think of me if I unite
myself to him, after permitting, for so many years, those familiarities
which a brother may have taken with a sister, with me, who knew
that in fact I remained unmarried?"

How she got over this nice scruple does not appear 5 it was how-
ever , for a long time a great obstacle to the felicity of our author.
There is an incident which shows the purity of this married virgin,
who w as fearful the liberties she allowed Celadon might be ill con-
strued. Phillis tells the druid Adamas that Astrea was seen sleeping
by the fountain of the Truth of Love, and that the unicorns which
guarded those waters were observed to approach her, and lay their
heads on her lap. According to fable, it is one of the properlies of
these animals never to approach any female but a maiden : at this
strange difficulty our druid remains surprised ; while Astrea has thus
given an incontrovertible proof of her purity.

The history of Philander is that of the elder D'Urfe. None but boys
disguised as girls and girls as boys, appear in the history. Tn this man-
ner he concealed, without offending modesty, the defect of his brother.
To mark the truth of this history, when Philander is disguised as a

384 THE ASTREA.

woman , while he converses with Astrea of his love , he frequently
alludes to his misfortune, although in another sense.

Philander, ready to expire, will die with the glorious name of the
husband of Astrea. He entreats her to grant him this favour : she
accords it to him , and swears before the gods that she receives him
in her heart for her husband. The truth is, he enjoyed nothing but
the name. Philander dies too , in combating with a hideous Moor ,
which is the personification of his conscience, and which at length
compelled him to quit so beautiful an object, and one so worthy of
being eternally beloved.

The gratitude of Sylvander , on the point of being sacrificed ,
represents the consent of Honore's parents to dissolve his vow of
celibacy, and unite him to Diana ; and the druid Adamas represents
the ecclesiastical power. The fountain of the truth of love is
that of marriage ; the unicorns are the symbols of that purity which
should ever guard it-, and the flaming eyes of the lions, which are
also there , represent those inconveniences attending marriage , but
over which a faithful passion easily triumphs.

In this manner has our author disguised his own private history •,
and blended in his works a number of little amours which passed at
the court of Henry the Great. These particulars were confided to
Patru, on visiting the author in his retirement.

POETS LAUREAT.

The present article is a sketch of the history of poets laureat ,
from a memoir of the French Academy, by the Abbe Resnel.

The custom of crow ning poets is as ancient as poetry itself; it has,
Indeed, frequently varied; it existed, however, as late as the reign
of Theodosius, when it was abolished as a remain of paganism.

When the barbarians overspread Europe , few appeared to merit
this honour , and fewer who could have read their works. It was
about the lime of Petrarch that Poetry resumed its ancient lustre ;
he was publicly honoured with the laurel Crown. It was in this
century ( the thirteenth) that the establishment of Bachelor and
Doctor was fixed in the universities. Those who were found worthy
of the honour , obtained the laurel of Bachelor , or the laurel of
Doctor; Laurea Baccalaureatus ; Laurea Doctoratus. At their
reception they not only assumed this title, but they also had a
crown of laurel placed on their heads.

To this ceremony the ingenious writer attributes the revival of
the custom. The poets were not slow in putting in their claims to
what they had most a right; and their patrons sought to encourage
them by these honourable distinctions.

POETS LAUREA'l. 385

The following /o/7««/rt is Ihe exact style of tiiosc which are yet
tMnploycd in the universities to confer the degree of Bachelor and
Doctor, and serves to confirm the conjecture of Resnel : —

" We, count and senator,' (Count d'Anguillara , who bestowed
Uie laurel on Petrarch,) " for us and our College, declare FRA^CIS
Petrarch, great poet and historian , and for a special mark of his
quality of poet , we have placed w ith our hands on his head a crmvn
of laurel, granting to him, by the Icnor of these presents , and by
the authority of King Robert, of the senate and the people of Rome,
in the poetic , as well as in the historic art, and generally in what-
ever relates to the said arts , as well in this holy city as elsewhere ,
the free and entire power of reading, disputing, and interpreting all
ancient books, to make new ones, and compose poems, which, God
assisting, shall endure from age to age."

In Italy, these honours did not long flourish; allthough Tasso
dignified the laurel crown by his acceptance of it. Many got crown-
ed who were unwoDthy of the distinction. The laurel was even bes-
towed on QuERNO , whose character is given in the Dunciad : —

" Not with more glee , by hands poutific crown'd ,
With scarlet hats wide-waving circled round ,
Rome in her capital saw Querno sit,
Thron'd on seven hills, the Antichrist of wit."

Canto 11.

This man was made laureat , for the joke's sake ; his poetry was
inspired by his cups , a kind of poet who came in with the dessert ;
and he recited twenty thousand verses. He was rather the arch-
buffoon than the arch-poet of Leo X. though honoured with the
latter title. They invented for him a new kind of laureated honour ,
and in the intermixture of the foliage raised to Apollo, slily inserted
the vine and the cabbage leaves , which he evidently deserved, from
his extreme dexterity in clearing the pontiff's dishes and emptying
his goblets.

Urban VIII. had a juster and more elevated idea of the children
of Fancy. It appears that he possessed much poetic sensibility. Of
him it is recorded , that he wrote a letter to Chiabrera to felicitate
him on the success of his poetry : letters written by a pope were
then an honour only paid to crowned heads. One is pleased also
with another testimony of his elegant dispositions. Charmed with a
poem w hich Bracciolini presented to him , he gave him the surname
of Delle-Ape , of the bees , w hich w ere the arms of this amiable
pope. He, however, never crowned these favourite bards with the
laurel, which, probably, he deemed unworthy of them.

In Germany, the laureat honours flourished under the reign of
Maximilian the First. He founded, in 1504, a Poetical College at

;jSG POETS LAUREAT.

Vienna 5 reserving to himself and the regent the power of bestowing
the laurel. But the institution, notwithstanding this well-concerted
scheme, fell into disrepute, owing to a cloud of claimants who
were fired with the rage of versifying, and who , though destitute
of poetic talents, had the laurel bestowed on them. Thus it became
a prostituted honour ; and satires were incessantly levelled against
the usurpers of the crown of Apollo : it seems, notwithstanding,
always to have had charms in the eyes of the Germans , w ho did
not reflect, as the Abbe elegantly expresses himself, that it faded
when it passed over so many heads.

The Emperor of Germany retains the laureatship in all its splend-
our. The selected bard is called // Poeta Cesareo. Apostolo
Zeno , as celebrated for his erudition , as for his poetic powers ,
was succeeded by that most enchanting poet, Metastasio.

The French never had a Poef Laurent , though they had Rectal
Poets -^ for none were ever solemnly crowned. The Spanish nation ,
always desirous of titles of honour, seem to have known tSiat of the
Laureate but little information concerning it can be gathered from
their authors.

Respecting our own country little can be added to the information
of Sclden. John Ray, who dedicated a History of Rhodes to Ed-
ward lY., takes the title of his humble Poet Laureat. Gower and
Chaucer were laureats^ so was likewise Skelton to Henry VIII. In
the acts of Rymer, there is a charter of Henry VII. with the title of
pjo Poeta Laureato , that is , perhaps , only a Poet laureated at
the university^ in the king's household.

Our poets were never solemnly crowned as in other countries.
Selden , after all his recondite researches , is satisfied with saying,
that some trace of this distinction is to be found in our nation. Our
kings from time immemorial have placed a miserable dependent in
their household appointment , who was sometimes called the King's
poet y and the King's ^versificator. It is probable that at length
the selected bard assumed the title oi Poet Laurent, without receiv-
ing the honours of the ceremony ^ or at the most , the crow7i of'
laurel was a mere obscure custom practised at our universities , and
not attended with great public distinction. It was oflener placed on
the skull of a pedant than wreathed on the head of a man of genius.
Shadwell united the othccs both of Poet Laureat and Historiographer^
and by a MS. account of Ihe public revenue, it appears that for two
years' salary he received six hundred pounds. At his death Rymer
beciune the Historiographer and Tate the Laureat : both oflices seem
equally useless, but, if united, will not proye so to the Poet
Laureat.

ANGELO POLITIAN. 387

ANGELO POLITIAN.

AxGELO PouTiA.\ , an Italian , w as one of Ihc most polished
writers of the fifteenth century. 13aillet has placed him amongst his
celebrated children 5 for he was a writer at twelve years of age. The
Muses indeed cherished him in his cradle , and the Graces hung
round it their wreaths. When he became professor of the Greek
language, such were the charms of his lectures, that Chalcondylas ,
a native of Greece , saw himself abandoned by his pupils , who
resorted to thedcUghtful disquisitions of the elegant Politian. Critics
of various nations have acknowledged that his poetical versions have
frecjuently excelled the originals. This happy genius was lodged in
a most unhappy form ^ nor were his morals untainted : it is only in
his literary compositions that he appears perfect.

As a specimen of his Epistles , here is one , w hich serves as pre-
fatory and dedicatory. The letter is replete with literature, though
void of pedantry ; a barren subject is embeUished by its happy turns.
Perhaps no author has more playfully defended himself from the
incertitude of criticism and the fastidiousness of critics.

MY LORD,

You have frequently urged me to collect my letters , to revise
and to publish them in a volume. I have now gathered them , that
I might not omit any mark of that obedience which I owe to him,
on whom I rest all my hopes , and all my prosperity. I have not,
however, collected them all , because that would have been a more
laborious task than to have gathered the scattered leaves of the
Sibyl. It was never, indeed , with an intention of forming my letters
into one body that I wrote them , but merely as occasion prompted,
and as the subjects presented themselves without seeking for them.
I never retained copies except of a few, which , less fortunate , I
think , than the others , w ere thus favoured for the sake of the
verses they contained. To form , however, a tolerable volume , I
have also inserted some written by others, but only those with which
several ingenious scholars favoured me , and which , perhaps , may
put the reader in good humour with my own.

There is one thing for which some will be inclined to censure
me ; the style of my letters is very unequal ; and , to confess the
truth , I did not find myself always in the same humour, and the
same modes of expression were not adapted to every person and
every topic. They will not fail then to observe, when they read
such a diversity of letters ( I mean if they do read them ) , that I have
composed not epistles , but (once more) miscellanies.

388 AKGELO POLITIAIN.

I hope, my Lord, notwilhstanding this , Ihal amongst such a
variety of opinions, of those who write letters, and of those who
give precepts how letters should be written , I shall find some apo-
logy. Some, probably, will deny that they are Ciceronian. I can
answer such , and not without good authority, that in epistolary
composition we must not regard Cicero as a model. Anotlier perhaps
will say, that I imitate Cicero. And him I will answer by observing,
that I w ish nothing better tlian to be capable of grasping something
of this great man , were it but his shadow !

Another will w ish that I had borrowed a little from the manner of
Pliny the orator, because his profound sense and accuracy were
greatly esteemed. T shall oppose him by expressing my contempt of
all the writers of the age of Pliny. If it should be observed, that 1
have imitated the manner of Pliny, I shall then screen myself by
what Sidonius Apollinaris , an author w ho is by no means disreput-
able , says in commendation of his epistolary style. Do I resemble
Symmachus? I shall not be sorry, for they distinguish his openness
and conciseness. Am I considered in nowise resembling him? T
shall confess that I am not pleased with his dry manner.

Will my letters be condemned for their length? Plato , Aristotle ,
Thucydides, and Cicero, have all written long ones. Will some of
them be criticised for their brevity? I allege in my favour the
examples of Dion , Brutus , ApoUonius , Philostratus , Marcus An-
toninus , Alciphron , Julian , Symmachus , and also Lucian , who
vulgarly, but falsely, is believed to have been Phalaris.

I shall be censured for having treated of topics which are not
generally considered as proper for epistolary composition. I admit
this censure, provided while I am condemned, Seneca also shares
in the condemnation. Another will not allow of a sententious manner
in my letters 5 I will still justify myself by Seneca. Another, on the
contrary, desires abrupt sentenlious periods ^ Dionysius shall answer
him for me , who maintains , that pointed sentences should not be
admitted into letters.

Is my style too perspicuous? It is precisely that which Philostratus
admires. Is it obscure? Such is that of Cicero to Atticus. Negligent?
An agreeable negligence in letters is more graceful than elaborate
ornaments. Laboured ? Nothing can be more proper, since we send
cpisiies to our friends as a kind of presents. If they display too nice
an arrangement , the Ilalicarnassian shall vindicate me. If there is
none; Artcmon says there should be none.

Now as a good and pure Laiinity has its peculiar taste, its manners,
and, to express myself thus, its Atticisms 5 if in this sense a letter
shall bo found not sufficiently Attic , so much the better; for what
was Herod the sophist censured? but that having been born an

ANGFXO POLITIAN. 389

Athenian , he alTocted loo nmch to appear one in his lansuajic.
Should a lelterscem too Attical \ still better, since it was by discover-
inj? Theophraslus, who was no Athenian , that a good old woman of
Athens laid hold of a word , and shamed him.

Shall one letter be found not suflicienlly serious? I love to jest.
Or is it too grave ? I am pleased w ith gravity. Is another full ol figures?
Letters being the images of discourse, figures have the ellecl of
graceful action in conversation. Are they deficient in figures? This
is just what characterises a letter, this want of figures! Does it disco-
ver the genius of the w riler? This frankness is recommended. Does it
conceal it? The writer did not think proper to paint himself^ and it
is one requisite in a letter, that it should be void of ostentation.
You express yourself, some one will observe , in common terms on
common topics , and in new terms on new topics. The style is thus
adapted to the subject. No, no, he will answer^ it is in common
terms you express new ideas , and in new terms common ideas.
Very well ! It is because I have not forgotten an ancient Greek
precept which expressly recommends this.

It is thus by attempting to be ambidextrous , I try to ward oil"
attacks. My critics will however criticise me as they please. It will
be sufficient for me , my Lord , to be. assured of having satisfied
you, by my letters, if they are good; or by my obedience, if they
arc not so.

Florence, i494-

ORIGINAL LETTER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

■*■

In the Coltonian Library, Vespasian, F. III. is preserved a letter
written by Queen EHzabeth , then Princc-s. Her brother Edward the
Sixth had desired to have her picture; and in gratifying the wishes
of his majesty, Elizabeth accompanies the present with an elaborate
letter. It bears no dale of the jert/- in which it was written; but her
place of residence was at Hatfield. There she had retired to enjoy
the silent pleasures of a studious life , and to be distant from the
dangerous politics of the time. When Mary died , Elizabeth was
still at Hatfield. At the time of its composition she was in habitual
intercourse with the most excellent w Titers of antiquity : her letter
displays this in every part of it ; but it is too rhetorical. It is here
now first published.

LETTER.

"Like as the riche man that dayly gathereth riches to riches,
and to one bag of money layeth a greate sort til it come to infinit ,
so me thinkes , your Majestic not beinge suffised w ith many benefits
and gentilnes shewed to me afore this time , dothe now increase

]9(T ORIGINAL LETTER OF QUEEW ELIZABETH.

Ihem in askinge and desiring whcr you may bid and comaundc ,
requiring a thinge not wortliy tlic desiringe for it selfe, but made
worltiy for your liighness request. My piclur I mene , in wiclic if
t!ie inward good mynde towarde your grace miglit as wel be decla-
red as llie oulwarde face and countenance shall be seen , I wold nor
haue taried the comandenient but prevent it , nor haue bine the last
to graunt but the first to offer it. For the face , I graunt , I might
wel blusche to offer, but the mynde I schall neur be ashamed to
present. For thogth from the grace of the pictur, the coulers may
fiJde by lime, may giue by wether, may be spotted by chance,
yet the other nor lime with her swift winges shall ouertake, nor
the mistie cloudes with their loweringes may darken , nor chance
with her slipery fote may overthrow. Of this althogth yet the profe
could not be greate because the occasions hathc bine but smal , not-
withstandinge as a dog bathe a day, so may I perchaunce haue time
to declare it in dides wher now I do write them but in wordes. And
further I shal most humbly beseche your Maiestie that whan you
shall loke on. my pictur you wil witsafe lo thinke that as you haue
but the oulwarde shadow of the body afore you , so my inward
minde wischeth , that the body it selfe wer oftener in your presence •,
howbeit bicause bothe my so beinge I thinke coulde do your Mai-
estie litel pleasure thogth my selfe great good , and againe bicause
I se as yet not the lime agreing theruto, I schal lerne to folow this
saing of Grace, Feras non culpes quod vilari non potest. And thus
I wil (troblinge your Maiestie I fere) ende with my most humble
thankes , besechinge God longe to preserue you to his honour, to
your cofort to the realmes profit, and to my joy. From Halfilde
this 1 day of May.

" Your Maiesiies most humbly Sislar
"and Seruante

"Elizabetpl"

ANNE IIULLEN.

That minute detail of circumstances frequently found in writers
of Ihe history of their own times is more interesting than the elegant
and general narratives of later, and probably of more philosophical
historians. It is in the arllcss recitals of memoir-writers, that the
imagination is struck with a lively impression , and fastens on petty
circumstances, which must be passed over by the classical historian.
The writings of Brantome , Comines , Froissart , and others , are
dictated by their natural feelings : while the passions of modern
writers are temperate with dispassionate philosophy, or inflamed
by the virulence of faction. History instructs, but Memoirs delight.

AINWE BULLEN. 391

These prefatory observations may serve as an aiwlogy for Anecdotes,
which are gatliered from obscure corners , on which the dignity of
the historian must not dwell.

In Houssaie's Memoirs , Yol. I. p. 435, a little circumstance is
recorded concerning the decapitation of the unfortunate Anne Bul-
len , which illustrates an observation of Hume. Our historian notices
that her executioner was a Frenchman of Calais , wha was supposed
to have uncommon skill. It is probable that the following incident
might have been preserved by tradition in France, from the account
of the executioner himself : — Anne IkiUen being on the scaffold ,
would not consent to have her eyes covered with a bandage, saying
that she had no fear of death. All that the divine who assisted at her
execution could obtain from her was , that she w ould shut her eyes.
But as she was opening them at every moment, the executioner
could not bear their tender and mild glances •, fearful of missing liis
aim, he was obliged to invent an expedient to behead the queen.
He drew off his shoes , and approached her silently 5 while he was
at her left hand , another person advanced at her right , who made
a great noise in walking, so that this circumstance drawing the
attention of Anne , she turned her face from the executioner, who
was enabled by this artifice to strike the fatal blow, without being
disarmed by that spirit of affecting resignation which shone in the
eyes of the lovely Anne Bullen.

" The Coinmou Executioner, «

VVIiosc heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard ,
Falls not tlie axe upou the liuuible neck
But first begs pardon."

Shakspeaue.

JAMES THE FIRST.

It was usual , in the reign of James the First , w hen they com-
pared it with the preceding glorious one , to distinguish him by
the title of Queen James , and his illustrious predecessor by tliat
of Kins, Elisabeth! Sir Anthony Weldon informs us , " that when
.Tames the First sent Sir Roger Aston as his messenger to Elizabeth ,
Sir Roger was always placed in the lobby : the hangings being turn-
ed so that he might see the queen dancing to a little fiddle , which
was to no other end than that he should tell his master, by her
youthful disposition , how likely he was to come to the crown he
so much thirsted after ^" — and indeed , when at her death this same
knight , whose origin was low, and whose language was suitable to
that origin , appeared before the English council , he could not con-
ceal his Scottish rapture , for, asked how the king did ? he replied ,
"Even, my lords, like a poore man wandering about forty years

35)2 JAMES THE FIRST.

in a wildernesse and barren soyle, and now arrived at the Land of
Promise.'''' A curious anecdote, respecting the economy of the court
in these reigns , is noticed in some manuscript memoirs written in
James's reign, preserved in a family of distinction. The lady, who
wrote these memoirs , tells us that a great change had taken place
in cleanliness , since the last reign •, for having rose from her chair,
she found , on her departure , that she had the honour of carrying
upon her some companions who must have been inhabitants of the
palace. The court of Elizabeth was celebrated occasionally for its
magnificence , and always for its nicety. James was singularly effe-
minate ; he could not behold a drawn sword without shuddering ;
was much too partial to handsome men ; and appears to merit the
bitter satire of Churchill. If wanting other proofs, we should only
read the second volume of " Royal Letters," 6987, in the Harleian
collections, which contains Stenie's correspondence with James.
The gross familiarity of Buckingham's address is couched in such
terms as these : — he calls his majesty "Dere dad and Gossope ! "
and coueludes his letters with "your humble slaue and dogge,
Stenie." He was a most weak , but not quite a vicious man-, yet his
expertness in the art of dissimulation was very great indeed. He
called this King-Craft. Sir Anthony Weldon gives a lively anec-
dote of this dissimulation in the king's behaviour to the Earl of
Somerset at the very moment he had prepared to disgrace him. The
earl accompanied tlig king to Royston , and , to his apprehension ,
never parted from him with more seeming affection , though the
king well knew he should never see him more. "The carl when he
kissed his hand, the king hung about his neck, slabbering his cheeks,
saying — For God's sake, when shall I see thee again? On my soul I
shall neither eat nor sleep until you come again. The earl told him
on Monday (this being on the Friday). For God's sake let me,
said the king : — Shall I, shall I? — then lolled about his neck; —
then for God's sake give thy lady this kisse for me , in the same
manner at the stayre's head , at the middle of the stayres , and at
the stayre's foot. The earl was not in his coach when the king used
these very words (in the hearing of four servants , one of whom re-
ported it instantly to the author of this history), 'I shall never see
his lace more."

He displayed great imbecility in his amusements , which are cha-
racterised by the following one , related by Arthur Wilson : — When
James became melancholy in consequence of various dissappoint-
mcnls in state matters, Buckingham and his mother used several
means of diverting him. Amongst the most ludicrous was the pre-
sent. TlKjy had a young lady, who brought u pig in the dress of a
new-born iufaiil : (lie countess carried il to Iho king , wrapi)cd in

JAMES THE FIRST. 393

a rich mantle. One Turpin , on this occasion , was dressed like a
bishop in all his pontifical ornaments. He began the rites of baptism
with the common prayer book in his hand ^ a silver ewer with water
was held by another. The marquis stood as godfather. When James
turned to look at the infant , the pig squeaked : an animal which
he greatly abhorred. At this , highly displeased , he exclaimed , —
" Out! Away for shame ! What blasphemy is this ! "

This ridiculous joke did not accord w ilh the feelings of James at
that moment •, he was not " i' the vein." Yet we may observe , that
had not such artful politicians as Buckingham and his mother been
strongly persuaded of the success of this puerile fancy, they would
not have ventured on such ^ blasphemies." They certainly had wit-
nessed amusements heretofore not less trivial which had gratified his
majesty. The account which Sir Anthony Weldon gives, in his Court
of King James , exhibits a curious scene of James's amusements.
" After the king supped , he would come forth to see pastimes and
fooleries ^ in which Sir Ed. Zouch , Sir Georges Goring , and Sir
John Finit, were the chiefe and master fools , and surely this fool-
ing got them more than any others' wisdome ; Zouch's part was to
sing bawdy songs, and tell bawdy tales,- Finit's to compose these
songs : there was a set of fiddlers brought to court on purpose for
this fooling, and Goring was master of the game for fooleries, some-
times presenting David Droman and Archee Armstrong, the king's
foole , on the back of the other fools , to tilt one at another, till they
fell together by the eares ; sometimes they performed antick dances.
But Sir John Millicent (who was never known before) was com-
mended for notable fooling 5 and was indeed the best extemporary
foole of them all." Weldon's " Court of James" is a scandalous
chronicle of the times.

His dispositions were , however, generally grave and studious. He
seems to have possessed a real love of letters , but attended with that
mediocrity of talent which in a private person had never raised him
into notice. " While there was a chance ," writes the author of the
Catalogue of Noble Authors, " that the dyer's son , Vorstius, might
be divinity-professor at Leyden, instead of being burnt, as his majesty
hinted to the Christian prudence of the Dutch that he deserved to
be , our ambassadors could not receive instructions , and conse-
quently could not treat on any other business. The king , who did
not resent the massacre at Amboyna , was on the point of breaking
•vith the States for supporting a man who professed the heresies of
Enjedius , Ostodorus, etc. , points of extreme consequence to Great
Britain I Sir Dudley Carleton was forced to threaten the Dutch , not
only with (he hatred of king James, but also with his pen."

394 JAMES THE FIRST.

This royal pedant is forcibly characterised by the following obser-
vations of the same writer : —

" Among his majesty's works is a small collection of poetry. Like
several of his subjects, our royal author has condescended to apolo-
gise for its imperfections , as having been written in his youth, and
his maturer age being otherwise occupied. So that ( to employ his
own language ) ' when his ingyne and age could , his atfaires and
fascherie would not permit him to correct them, scarslic but at stolen
moments, he having the leisure to blenk upon any paper.' When
James sent a present of his harangues , turned into Latin , to the
protestant princes in Europe , it is not unentertaining to observe in
their answers of compliments and thanks , how each endeavoured to
insinuate that he had read them , without positively asserting it! Bu-
chanan , when asked how he came to make a pedant of his royal
pupil , answered that it was the best he could make of him. Sir
George Mackenzie relates a story of his tutelage , which shows Bu-
chanan's humour, and the veneration of others for royalty. The
young king being one day at play with his fellow pupil , the master
of Erskine , Buchanan was reading , and desired them to make less
noise. As they disregarded his admonition, he told his majesty, if
he did not hold his tongue , he would certainly whip his breech.
The king replied , he would be glad to see who would bell the cat ,
alluding to the fable. Buchanan lost his temper , and throwing his
book from him , gave his majesty a sound flogging. The old Countess
of Mar rushed into the room , and taking the king in her arms ,
asked how he dared to lay his hands on the Lord's anointed? Madam,
replied the elegant and inmiortal historian , I have whipped his
a , you may kiss it if you please ! "

Many years after this was published , I discovered a curious anec-
dote : — Even so late as when James I. was seated on the throne of
England , once the appearance of his frowning tutor in a dream
greatly agitated the king, who in vain attempted to pacify his illus-
trious pedagogue in this portentous vision. Such was the terror
which the remembrance of this inexorable republican tutor had left
on the imagination of his royal pupil.

James I. was certainly a zealous votary of literature, his wish was
sincere, when at viewing the Bodleian Library at Oxford , he ex-
claimed , " Were I not a king T would be an university man ; and if
it were so that I nmst be a prisoner, if I might have my w ish, 1 would
have no other prison than this library, and be chained together with
thesis good autliors."

Hume has inlbrmed us, that " his death was decent." The fol-
lowing ar(^ the minute particulars . 1 have drawn them from an

JAMES THE FirtST. 395

imperfect manuscript collection , made by the celebrated Sir Thomas
Browne : —

"•The lord keeper, on March 22 , received a letter from the court,
tliat it was feared his majesty's sickness was dangerous to death ^
which fear was more confirmed, for he , meeting Dr. Harvey in the
road , was told by him that the king used to have a beneficial eva-
cuation of nature, a sweating in his left arm, as helpful to him as
any fontanel could be, which of late failed.

"• When the lord keeper presented himself before him , he moved
to cheerful discourse , but it would not do. He stayed by his bedside
until midnight. Upon the consultations of the physicians in the
morning he was out of comfort , and by the prince's leave told him ,
kneeling by his pallet, that his days to come would be but few in this
world. '/ am satisfied,'' said the king; ' but pray you assist me to
make me ready for the next world , to go away hence for Christ ,
whose mercies I call for, and hope to find.'

" From that time the keeper never left him , or put off his clothes
to go to bed. The king took the communion , and professed he died
in the bosom of the Church of England , whose doctrine he had de-
fended with his pen , being persuaded it was according to the mind
of Christ, as he should shortly answer it before him.

" He stayed in the chamber to take notice of every thing the king
said , and to repulse those who crept much about the chamber door,
and into the chamber ; (hey were for the most addicted to the Church
of Rome. Being rid of them , he continued in prayer, while the king
hngered on , and at last shut his eyes with his own hands.'''

Tlius, in the full power of his faculties , a timorous prince en-
countered the horrors of dissolution. Religion rendered cheerful
the abrupt night of futurity 5 and what can philosophy do more , or
rather, can philosophy do as much ?

I proposed to have examined w ith some care the works of James I . ;
but that uninviting task has been now postponed till it is too late. As
a writer his works may not be valuable , and are infected with the
pedantry and the superstition of the age ; yet I suspect that James
was not that degraded and feeble character in which he ranks by the
contagious voice of criticism. He has had more critics than readers.
After a great number of acute observations and witty allusions, made
extempore , which we find continually recorded of him by contem-
porary writers, and some not friendly to him, I conclude that he pos-
sessed a great promptness of wit, and much solid judgment and acul(?
ingenuity. It requires only a little labour to prove this.

Thai labour I have since zealously performed. This article , com-

396 JAMES THE FIRST.

T^o?,^ more than thirty years ?ii%o ^ displays the cffec Is ol' first im-
pressions and popular clamours. About ten years I suspected that
his character was grossly injured, and lately I found how it has
suffered from a variety of causes. That monarch preserved for, us a
peace of more than twenty years ; and his talents were of a higher
order than the calumnies of the party who have remorselessly de-
graded him have allowed a common inquirer to discover. For the
rest I must refer the reader to "An Inquiry into the Literary and Po-
litical Character of James 1. 5 " in which he may find many correctives
for this article.

GENERAL MONK AND HIS WIFE.

From the MS. collection of Sir Thomas Browne , I shall rescue
an anecdote, which has a tendency to show that it is not advisable
to permit ladies to remain at home , when political plots are to be
secretly discussed. And while it displays the treachery of Monk's
wife, it wiU also appear that, like other great revolutionists, it was
ambition that first induced him to become the reformer he pretended
to be.

" Monk gave fair promises to the Rump , but last agreed with the
French Ambassador to take the government on himself; by whom ho
had a promise from Mazarin of assistance from France. This bargain
was struck late at night : but not so secretly but that Monk's wife ,
who had posted herself conveniently behind the hangings , finding
what was resolved upon , sent her brother Clarges away immediately
with notice of it to Sir A. A. She had promised to watch her husband,
and inform Sir A. how matters went. Sir A. caused the Council of
stale , whereof he was a member, to be summoned , and charged
Monk that he was playing false. The general insisted that he was
true to his principles , and firm to what he had promised , and that
he was ready to give them all satisfaction. Sir A. told him if he were
sincere he might remove all scruples , and should instantly take away
their commissions from such and such men in his army, and appoint
oth(!rs, and that before he left the room. ]\Ionk consented ; a great part
of the commissions of his ofiicers were changed , and Sir Edward
Ilarley, a member of the council , and then present, was made go-
vernor of Dunkirk , in the room of Sir William J^ockhart; the army
ceased to be at Monk's devotion 5 the ambassador was recalled , and
broke his heart."

Such were the effects of the infidelity of the wife of General
Monk !

PHILIP AND MARY. 397

PHILIP AND MARY.

HoussAiE in his M6iTioires , vol. i. p. 261, has given the follow-
ing curious particulars of this singular union : —

'' The second v ifc of Philip was Mary Queen of England ; a vir-
tuous princess (Houssaie was a good catholic), but who had neither
youth nor beauty. This marriage was as little happy for the one as
for the other. The husband did not like his wife , although she doted
on him ; and the English hated Philip still more than he hated them.
Silhon says , that the rigour which he exercised in England against
heretics partly hindered Prince Carlos from succeeding to that crow n,
and for which purpose Mary had invited him in case she died cliild-
less! — But no historian speaks of this pretended inclination , and is
it probable that Mary ever thought proper to call to the succession of
the English throne the son of the Spanish Monarch? This marriage
had made her nation detest her, and in the last years of her life she
could be little satisfied with him from his marked indifference for
her. She well knew that the Parliament would never consent to ex-
clude her sister Elizabeth, whom the nobility loved for being more
friendly to the new religion , and more hostile to the house of Aus-
tria.''

In the Cottonian library, Vespasian F. iii. is preserved a note of
instructions in the hand-w riting of Queen Mary , of which the fol-
lowing is a copy. It was, probably, written when Philip was just
seated on the English throne.

" Instructions for my lorde Previsel.

" Firste , to tell the Kinge the whole state of tliis realme , w^ all
things appartaynyng to the same, as myche as ye knowe to be
trewe.

" Seconde, to obey his commandment in all thyngs.

" Thyrdly, in all things he shall aske your aduyse te declare your
opinion as becometh a faythfuU conceyllour to do.

" Mary the Queue."

Houssaie proceeds : "After the death of Mary, Philip sought
Elizabeth in marriage ^ and she , who was yet unfixed at the begin-
ning of her reign , amused kim at first with hopes. But as soon as
she unmasked herself to the pope , she laughed at Philip , telling
the Duke of Feria , his ambassador, that her conscience would not
permit her to marry the husband of her sister."

This monarch , however, had no such scruples. Incest appears
to have had in his eyes peculiar charms^ for he offered himself

398 PHILIP AND MARY.

three times to three different sisters-in-law. He seems also to Iwve
known the secret of getting quit of his wives when they became in-
convenient. In stale matters he spared no one whom he feared ] to
them he sacrificed his only son , his brother, and a great number of
princes and ministers.

It is said of Philip , that before he died he advised his son to make
peace with England, and war with the other powers. Pacem cum
Anglo, helium cum reliquis. Queen Elizabeth, and the ruin of
his invincible fleet, physicked his frenzy into health, and taught
him to fear and respect that country which he thought he could
have made a province of Spain !

On his death-bed he did every thing he could for salvation. The
following protestation , a curious morsel of bigotry, he sent to his
confessor a few days before he died : —

" Father confessor! as you occupy the place of God, I protest
to you that I will do every thing you shall say to be necessary for
my being saved \ so that what I omit doing will be placed to your
account, as I am ready to acquit myself of all that shall be ordered
to me."

Is there, in the records of history, a more glaring instance of the
idea which a good Catholic attaches to the power of a confessor than
the present authentic example? The most licentious philosophy
seems not more dangerous than a religion whose votary believes
that the accumulation of crimes can be dissipated by the breath of a
few orisons, and which, considering a venal priest to " occupy the
place of God," can traffic with the divine power at a very moderate
price.

After his death a Spanish grandee wrote with a coal on the chim-
ney-piece of his chamber the following epitaph, which ingeniously
paints his character in four verses . —

Siendo moco luxurioso
Sieudo hombre , fiie cruel 5
Siendo viejo , codicioso ;
Que se puede esperar del ?

lu youth lie was luxurious:
In manhood lie was cruel;
In old age he was avaricious ;
What could bo hoped from him ?

END OF VOL. I.

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