[Illustration]

CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE. 

BY

ISAAC DISRAELI. 

A New Edition

EDITED, WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES, BY HIS SON, THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD. 

IN THREE VOLUMES. 

VOL. II. 

LONDON: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. AND NEW YORK

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. 

 CHARLES THE FIRST. 1

 DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 5

 THE DEATH OF CHARLES IX. 7

 ROYAL PROMOTIONS. 10

 NOBILITY 11

 MODES OF SALUTATION, AND AMICABLE CEREMONIES, OBSERVED IN VARIOUS NATIONS. 12

 FIRE, AND THE ORIGIN OF FIREWORKS. 15

 THE BIBLE PROHIBITED AND IMPROVED. 19

 ORIGIN OF THE MATERIALS OF WRITING. 23

 ANECDOTES OF EUROPEAN MANNERS. 30

 THE EARLY DRAMA. 40

 THE MARRIAGE OF THE ARTS. 43

 A CONTRIVANCE IN DRAMATIC DIALOGUE. 47

 THE COMEDY OF A MADMAN. 48

 SOLITUDE 50

 LITERARY FRIENDSHIPS. 55

 ANECDOTES OF ABSTRACTION OF MIND. 59

 RICHARDSON. 62

 INFLUENCE OF A NAME. 65

 THE JEWS OF YORK. 75

 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 79

 ON THE CUSTOM OF KISSING HANDS. 81

 POPES. 83

 LITERARY COMPOSITION. 85

 POETICAL IMITATIONS AND SIMILARITIES. 92

 EXPLANATION OF THE FAC-SIMILE. 110

 LITERARY FASHIONS. 113

 THE PANTOMIMICAL CHARACTERS. 116

 EXTEMPORAL COMEDIES. 130

 MASSINGER, MILTON, AND THE ITALIAN THEATRE. 137

 SONGS OF TRADES, OR SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. 142

 INTRODUCERS OF EXOTIC FLOWERS, FRUITS, ETC. 151

 USURERS OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 158

 CHIDIOCK TITCHBOURNE. 171

 ELIZABETH AND HER PARLIAMENT. 179

 ANECDOTES OF PRINCE HENRY, THE SON OF JAMES I. , WHEN A CHILD. 186

 THE DIARY OF A MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES. 194

 DIARIES--MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND CRITICAL. 206

 LICENSERS OF THE PRESS. 216

 OF ANAGRAMS AND ECHO VERSES. 229

 ORTHOGRAPHY OF PROPER NAMES. 237

 NAMES OF OUR STREETS. 239

 SECRET HISTORY OF EDWARD VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 243

 ANCIENT COOKERY, AND COOKS. 245

 ANCIENT AND MODERN SATURNALIA. 256

 RELIQUIÆ GETHINIANÆ. 270

 ROBINSON CRUSOE. 274

 CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT DRAMAS. 277

 THE HISTORY OF THE THEATRE DURING ITS SUPPRESSION. 281

 DRINKING-CUSTOMS IN ENGLAND. 292

 LITERARY ANECDOTES. 300

 CONDEMNED POETS. 303

 ACAJOU AND ZIRPHILE. 308

 TOM O'BEDLAMS. 311

 INTRODUCTION OF TEA, COFFEE, AND CHOCOLATE. 317

 CHARLES THE FIRST'S LOVE OF THE FINE ARTS. 326

 SECRET HISTORY OF CHARLES THE FIRST, AND HIS QUEEN HENRIETTA. 836

 THE MINISTER--THE CARDINAL DUKE OF RICHELIEU. 340

 THE MINISTER--DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, LORD ADMIRAL, LORD GENERAL, &C. , &C. , &C. 355

 FELTON, THE POLITICAL ASSASSIN. 371

 JOHNSON'S HINTS FOR THE LIFE OF POPE. 380

 MODERN LITERATURE--BAYLE'S CRITICAL DICTIONARY. 382

 CHARACTERISTICS OF BAYLE. 383

 CICERO VIEWED AS A COLLECTOR. 396

 THE HISTORY OF THE CARACCI. 399

 AN ENGLISH ACADEMY OF LITERATURE. 406

 QUOTATION. 416

 THE ORIGIN OF DANTE'S INFERNO. 421

 OF A HISTORY OF EVENTS WHICH HAVE NOT HAPPENED. 428

 OF FALSE POLITICAL REPORTS. 438

 OF SUPPRESSORS AND DILAPIDATORS OF MANUSCRIPTS. 443

 PARODIES. 453

 ANECDOTES OF THE FAIRFAX FAMILY. 461

 MEDICINE AND MORALS. 464

 PSALM-SINGING. 472

 ON THE RIDICULOUS TITLES ASSUMED BY ITALIAN ACADEMIES. 479

 ON THE HERO OF HUDIBRAS; BUTLER VINDICATED. 491

 SHENSTONE'S SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 496

 BEN JONSON ON TRANSLATION. 500

 THE LOVES OF "THE LADY ARABELLA. " 502

 DOMESTIC HISTORY OF SIR EDWARD COKE. 519

 OF COKE'S STYLE, AND HIS CONDUCT. 530

 SECRET HISTORY OF AUTHORS WHO HAVE RUINED THEIR BOOKSELLERS. 532

CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE. 

CHARLES THE FIRST. 

Of his romantic excursion into Spain for the Infanta, many curiousparticulars are scattered amongst foreign writers, which display thesuperstitious prejudices which prevailed on this occasion, and, perhaps, develope the mysterious politics of the courts of Spain and Rome. 

Cardinal Gaetano, who had long been nuncio in Spain, observes, that thepeople, accustomed to revere the Inquisition as the oracle of divinity, abhorred the proposal of the marriage of the Infanta with an hereticalprince; but that the king's council, and all wise politicians, weredesirous of its accomplishment. Gregory XV. Held a consultation ofcardinals, where it was agreed that the just apprehension which theEnglish catholics entertained of being more cruelly persecuted, if thismarriage failed, was a sufficient reason to justify the pope. Thedispensation was therefore immediately granted, and sent to the nuncioof Spain, with orders to inform the Prince of Wales, in case of rupture, that no impediment of the marriage proceeded from the court of Rome, who, on the contrary, had expedited the dispensation. 

The prince's excursion to Madrid was, however, universally blamed, asbeing inimical to state interests. Nani, author of a history of Venice, which, according to his digressive manner, is the universal history ofhis times, has noticed this affair. "The people talked, and the Englishmurmured more than any other nation, to see the only son of the king andheir of his realms venture on so long a voyage, and present himselfrather as a hostage, than a husband to a foreign court, which so widelydiffered in government and religion, to obtain by force of prayer andsupplications a woman whom Philip and his ministers made a point ofhonour and conscience to refuse. "[1]

Houssaie observes, "The English council were against it, but king Jamesobstinately resolved on it; being over-persuaded by Gondomar, theSpanish ambassador, whose facetious humour and lively repartees greatlydelighted him. Gondomar persuaded him that the presence of the princewould not fail of accomplishing this union, and also the restitution ofthe electorate to his son-in-law the palatine. Add to this, the Earl ofBristol, the English ambassador-extraordinary at the court of Madrid, finding it his interest, wrote repeatedly to his majesty that thesuccess was certain if the prince came there, for that the Infanta wouldbe charmed with his personal appearance and polished manners. It wasthus that James, seduced by these two ambassadors, and by his parentalaffection for both his children, permitted the Prince of Wales to travelinto Spain. " This account differs from Clarendon. 

Wicquefort says, "that James in all this was the dupe of Gondomar, whowell knew the impossibility of this marriage, which was alike inimicalto the interests of politics and the Inquisition. For a long time heamused his majesty with hopes, and even got money for the householdexpenses of the future queen. He acted his part so well, that the Kingof Spain recompensed the knave, on his return, with a seat in thecouncil of state. " There is preserved in the British Museum aconsiderable series of letters which passed between James I. And theDuke of Buckingham and Charles, during their residence in Spain. 

I shall glean some further particulars concerning this mysterious affairfrom two English contemporaries, Howel and Wilson, who wrote from theirown observations. Howel had been employed in this projected match, andresided during its negotiation at Madrid. 

Howel describes the first interview of Prince Charles and the Infanta. "The Infanta wore a blue riband about her arm, that the prince mightdistinguish her, and as soon as she saw the prince her colour rose veryhigh. "--Wilson informs us that "two days after this interview the princewas invited to run at the ring, where his fair mistress was a spectator, and to the glory of his fortune, and the great contentment both ofhimself and the lookers-on, he took the ring the very first course. "Howel, writing from Madrid, says, "The people here do mightily magnifythe gallantry of the journey, and cry out that he deserved to have theInfanta thrown into his arms the first night he came. " The peopleappear, however, some time after, to doubt if the English had anyreligion at all. Again, "I have seen the prince have his eyes immovablyfixed upon the Infanta half an hour together in a thoughtful speculativeposture. " Olivares, who was no friend to this match, coarsely observedthat the prince watched her as a cat does a mouse. Charles indeed actedeverything that a lover in one of the old romances could have done. [2]He once leapt over the walls of her garden, and only retired by theentreaties of the old marquis who then guarded her, and who, falling onhis knees, solemnly protested that if the prince spoke to her his headwould answer for it. He watched hours in the street to meet with her;and Wilson says he gave such liberal presents to the court, as well asBuckingham to the Spanish beauties, that the Lord Treasurer Middlesexcomplained repeatedly of their wasteful prodigality. [3]

Let us now observe by what mode this match was consented to by thecourts of Spain and Rome. Wilson informs us that Charles agreed "Thatany one should freely propose to _him_ the arguments in favour of thecatholic religion, without giving any impediment; but that he wouldnever, directly or indirectly, permit any one to speak to the _Infanta_against the same. " They probably had tampered with Charles concerninghis religion. A letter of Gregory XV. To him is preserved in Wilson'slife, but its authenticity has been doubted. Olivares said toBuckingham, "You gave me some assurance and hope of the prince's_turning catholic_. " The duke roundly answered that it was false. TheSpanish minister, confounded at the bluntness of our English duke, brokefrom him in a violent rage, and lamented that state matters would notsuffer him to do himself justice. This insult was never forgiven; andsome time afterwards he attempted to revenge himself on Buckingham, byendeavouring to persuade James that he was at the head of a conspiracyagainst him. 

We hasten to conclude these anecdotes, not to be found in the pages ofHume and Smollett. --Wilson says that both kingdomsrejoiced:--"Preparations were made in England to entertain the Infanta;a new church was built at St. James's, the foundation-stone of which waslaid by the Spanish ambassador, for the public exercise of her religion:her portrait was multiplied in every corner of the town; such as hopedto flourish under her eye suddenly began to be powerful. In Spain (asWilson quaintly expresses himself) the substance was as much courted asthe shadow here. Indeed the Infanta, Howel tells us, was applying hardto the English language, and was already called the Princess of England. To conclude, --Charles complained of the repeated delays; and he and theSpanish court parted with a thousand civilities. The Infanta howeverobserved, that had the Prince loved her, he would not have quitted her. "

How shall we dispel those clouds of mystery with which politics havecovered this strange transaction? It appears that James had in view therestoration of the palatinate to his daughter, whom he could noteffectually assist; that the court of Rome had speculations of the mostdangerous tendency to the protestant religion; that the marriage wasbroken off by that personal hatred which existed between Olivares andBuckingham; and that, if there was any sincerity existing between theparties concerned, it rested with the Prince and the Infanta, who wereboth youthful and romantic, and were but two beautiful ivory balls inthe hands of great players. 

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 

The Duke of Buckingham, in his bold and familiar manner, appears to havebeen equally a favourite with James I. And Charles I. He behaved withsingular indiscretion both at the courts of France and Spain. 

Various anecdotes might be collected from the memoir writers of thosecountries, to convince us that our court was always little respected byits ill choice of this ambassador. His character is hit off by onemaster-stroke from the pencil of Hume: "He had, " says this penetratingobserver of men, "English familiarity and French levity;" so that he wasin full possession of two of the most offensive qualities an ambassadorcan possess. 

Sir Henry Wotton has written an interesting life of our duke. At schoolhis character fully discovered itself, even at that early period oflife. He would not apply to any serious studies, but excelled in thoselighter qualifications adapted to please in the world. He was a gracefulhorseman, musician, and dancer. His mother withdrew him from school atthe early age of thirteen, and he soon became a domestic favourite. Herfondness permitted him to indulge in every caprice, and to cultivatethose agreeable talents which were natural to him. His person wasbeautiful, and his manners insinuating. In a word, he was adapted tobecome a courtier. The fortunate opportunity soon presented itself; forJames saw him, and invited him to court, and showered on him, with aprodigal hand, the cornucopia of royal patronage. 

Houssaie, in his political memoirs, has detailed an anecdote of thisduke, only known to the English reader in the general observation of thehistorian. When he was sent to France, to conduct the Princess Henriettato the arms of Charles I. , he had the insolence to converse with theQueen of France, not as an ambassador, but as a lover! The Marchionessof Senecy, her lady of honour, enraged at seeing this conversationcontinue, seated herself in the arm-chair of the Queen, who that day wasconfined to her bed; she did this to hinder the insolent duke fromapproaching the Queen, and probably taking other liberties. As sheobserved that he still persisted in the lover, "Sir, " she said, in asevere tone of voice, "you must learn to be silent; it is not thus weaddress the Queen of France. "

This audacity of the duke is further confirmed by Nani, in his sixthbook of the History of Venice; an historian who is not apt to takethings lightly. For when Buckingham was desirous of once more beingambassador at that court, in 1626, it was signified by the Frenchambassador, that for reasons _well known to himself_, his person wouldnot be agreeable to his most Christian majesty. In a romantic threat, the duke exclaimed, he would go and see the queen in spite of the Frenchcourt; and to this petty affair is to be ascribed the war between thetwo nations!

The Marshal de Bassompiere, in the journal of his embassy, affordsanother instance of his "English familiarity. " He says, "The King ofEngland gave me a long audience, and a very disputatious one. He puthimself in a passion, while I, without losing my respect, expressedmyself freely. The Duke of Buckingham, when he observed the king andmyself very warm, leapt suddenly betwixt his majesty and me, exclaiming, 'I am come to set all to rights betwixt you, which I think is hightime. '"

Cardinal Richelieu hated Buckingham as sincerely as did the SpaniardOlivares. This enmity was apparently owing to the cardinal writing tothe duke without leaving any space open after the title of Monsieur; theduke, to show his equality, returned his answer in the same"paper-sparing" manner. Richelieu was jealous of Buckingham, whosefavour with the Queen of France was known. 

This ridiculous circumstance between Richelieu and Buckingham reminds meof a similar one, which happened to two Spanish Lords:--One signed atthe end of his letter EL _Marques_ (THE _Marquis_), as if the title hadbeen peculiar to himself for its excellence. His national vanityreceived a dreadful reproof from his correspondent, who, jealous of hisequality, signed OTRO _Marqies_ (ANOTHER _Marquis_). 

An anecdote given by Sir Henry Wotton offers a characteristic trait ofCharles and his favourite:--

"They were now entered into the deep time of Lent, and could get noflesh into their inns; whereupon fell out a pleasant passage (if I mayinsert it by the way among more serious):--There was near Bayon a herdof goats with their young ones; on which sight Sir Richard Graham(master of the horse to the marquis) tells the marquis he could snap oneof the kids, and make some shift to carry him close to their lodgings;which the prince overhearing, 'Why, Richard, ' says he, 'do you think youmay practise here your old tricks again upon the borders?' Upon whichword they first gave the goatherd good contentment, and then while themarquis and his servant, being both on foot, were chasing the kid aboutthe flock, the prince from horseback killed him in the head with aScottish pistol. Let this serve for a journal parenthesis, which yet mayshow how his highness, even in such light and sportful damage, had anoble sense of just dealing. "

THE DEATH OF CHARLES IX. 

Dr. Cayet is an old French controversial writer, but is better known inFrench literature as an historian. His _Chronologie Novenaire_ is fullof anecdotes unknown to other writers. He collected them from his ownobservations, for he was under-preceptor to Henry IV. The dreadfulmassacre of St. Bartholomew took place in the reign of Charles IX. ; onwhich occasion the English court went into mourning. The singular deathof Charles has been regarded by the Huguenots as an interposition ofdivine justice: he died bathed in his blood, which burst from his veins. The horrors of this miserable prince on his dying bed are forciblydepicted by the anecdotes I am now collecting. I shall premise, however, that Charles was a mere instrument in the hands of his mother, thepolitical and cruel Catherine of Medicis. 

Dr. Cayet, with honest _naïveté_, thus relates what he knew to havepassed a few hours before his death. 

"King Charles, feeling himself near his end, after having passed sometime without pronouncing a word, said, as he turned himself on one side, and as if he seemed to awake, 'Call my brother!' The queen mother waspresent, who immediately sent for the Duke of Alençon. The kingperceiving him, turned his back, and again said, 'Let my brother come!'The queen, his mother, replied, 'Sir, I do not know whom you mean; hereis your brother. ' The king was displeased, and said, 'Let them bring mybrother the King of Navarre; it is he who is my brother. ' The queenmother observing the dying monarch's resolute order, sent for him; but, for reasons known only to herself, she commanded the captain of theguards to conduct him under the vaults. They went to the King ofNavarre, and desired him to come and speak to the king; at that moment, this prince has since repeatedly said, he felt a shuddering andapprehension of death so much that he would not go. But King Charlespersisting on his coming, the queen mother assured him that he shouldreceive no injury. In this promise, however, he put little trust. Hewent, accompanied by the Viscount d'Auchy, on whose word he chieflyrelied. Having, however, observed under these vaults a great number ofhalberdiers and arquebusiers in ranks, he would have returned, when theviscount and the captain reassured him that no harm should happen tohim. The soldiers bowed, and their behaviour was respectful. By aprivate staircase he entered the chamber of the king, who, immediatelyon perceiving him, turned towards him, and stretched out his arms. TheKing of Navarre was affected; he sighed and wept, and fell on his kneesat the side of the bed. Charles embraced, and having kissed him, said, 'My brother, you lose a good master and a good friend. I know it is notyou who occasions me so much trouble; had I believed what they said, youwould not have been alive; but I have always loved you. It is to youalone I trust my wife and daughter; earnestly do I recommend them toyour care. _Do not trust the queen_; but God protect you!'

"The queen mother here interrupted him, 'Ah, sir, do not saythat!'--'Yes, madam, I must say it; it is the truth. Believe me, mybrother; love me; assist my wife and daughter, and implore God for mercyon me. Adieu, my brother, adieu!' The King of Navarre remained till hismajesty expired. "

The following minute particulars are drawn from the journal of Pierre deL'Etoile. In the simplicity of his narration, so pleasing in the oldwriters, the _nurse_ and the _monarch, _--the religious remorse of theone, and the artless consolations of the other, --become interestingobjects. 

"King Charles, two days before his death, having called for Mazzille, his chief physician, and complaining of the pains he suffered, asked himif it was not possible that he, and so many other celebrated physiciansthat were in his realms, could give some alleviation to his disorder;'for I am, ' said he, 'cruelly and horridly tormented. ' To which Mazzillereplied, that whatever had depended on them had been tried, but that intruth God only could be the sovereign physician in such complaints. 'Ibelieve, ' said the king, 'that what you say is true, and that you knownothing else. Draw from me my _custode_ (or large cap), that I may tryto rest. ' Mazzille withdrew, and left orders that all should leave theking except three, viz. , La Tour, St. Pris, and his nurse, whom hismajesty greatly loved, _although she was a Huguenot_. As she had justseated herself on a coffer, and began to doze, she heard the king groanbitterly, weeping and sighing; she then approached the bed softly, anddrawing away his _custode_, the king said to her, giving vent to a heavysigh, and shedding tears plentifully, insomuch that they interrupted hisdiscourse--'Ah! my dear nurse! my beloved woman, what blood! whatmurders! Ah! I have followed wicked advice! O my God! pardon me, and bemerciful. I know not where I am, they have made me so perplexed andagitated. How will all this end!--What shall I do? I am lost for ever! Iknow it. '--Then the nurse thus addressed him:--'Sire, be the murders onthose who forced you to order them; your majesty could not help it, andsince you never consented, and now regret them, believe God will neverimpute them to you, and will cover them with the mantle of justice ofhis Son, to whom alone you should look for aid. Ah! for the honour ofGod, let your majesty cease from this weeping. ' Having said this, sherose for a handkerchief, for his was drenched with tears: Charles havingtaken it from her, made a sign that she should retire and leave him torepose. "

The dreadful narrative of the massacre of St. Bartholomew is detailed inthe history of De Thou; and the same scene is painted in glowing, thoughin faithful colours, by Voltaire in the Henriade. --Charles, whose lastmiserable moments we come from contemplating, when he observed severalfugitive Huguenots about his palace in the morning after the massacre of30, 000 of their friends, took a fowling-piece, and repeatedly fired atthem. 

Such was the effect of religion operating, perhaps not on a malignant, but on a feeble mind!

ROYAL PROMOTIONS. 

If the golden gate of preferment is not usually opened to men of realmerit, persons of no worth have entered it in a most extraordinarymanner. 

Chevreau informs us that the Sultan Osman having observed a gardenerplanting a cabbage with some peculiar dexterity, the manner so attractedhis imperial eye that he raised him to an office near his person, andshortly afterwards he rewarded the planter of cabbages by creating him_beglerbeg_ or viceroy of the Isle of Cyprus. 

Marc Antony gave the house of a Roman citizen to a cook, who hadprepared for him a good supper! Many have been raised to extraordinarypreferment by capricious monarchs for the sake of a jest. Lewis XI. Promoted a poor priest whom he found sleeping in the porch of a church, that the proverb might be verified, that to lucky men good fortune willcome even when they are asleep! Our Henry VII. Made a viceroy of Irelandif not for the sake of, at least with a clench. When the king was toldthat all Ireland could not rule the Earl of Kildare, he said, then shallthis earl rule all Ireland. 

It is recorded of Henry VIII. That he raised a servant to a considerabledignity because he had taken care to have a roasted boar prepared forhim, when his majesty happened to be in the humour of feasting on one!and the title of _Sugar-loaf-court, _ in Leadenhall-street, was probablyderived from another piece of munificence of this monarch: the widow ofa Mr. Cornwallis was rewarded by the gift of a dissolved priory theresituated, for some _fine puddings_ with which she had presented hismajesty!

When Cardinal de Monte was elected pope, before he left the conclave, hebestowed a cardinal's hat upon a servant, whose chief merit consisted inthe daily attentions he paid to his holiness's monkey!

Louis Barbier owed all his good fortune to the familiar knowledge he hadof Rabelais. He knew his Rabelais by heart. This served to introduce himto the Duke of Orleans, who took great pleasure in reading that author. It was for this he gave him an abbey, and he was gradually promoted tillhe became a cardinal. 

George Villiers was suddenly raised from private station, and loadedwith wealth and honours by James the First, merely for his personalbeauty. [4] Almost all the favourites of James became so from theirhandsomeness. [5]

M. De Chamillart, minister of France, owed his promotion merely to hisbeing the only man who could beat Louis XIV. At billiards. He retiredwith a pension, after ruining the finances of his country. 

The Duke of Luynes was originally a country lad, who insinuated himselfinto the favour of Louis XIII. Then young, by making bird-traps(pies-grièches) to catch sparrows. It was little expected (saysVoltaire) that these puerile amusements were to be terminated by a mostsanguinary revolution. De Luynes, after causing his patron, the MarshalD'Ancre, to be assassinated, and the queen-mother to be imprisoned, raised himself to a title and the most tyrannical power. 

Sir Walter Raleigh owed his promotion to an act of gallantry to QueenElizabeth, and Sir Christopher Hatton owed his preferment to hisdancing: Queen Elizabeth, observes Granger, with all her sagacity, couldnot see the future lord chancellor in the fine dancer. The same writersays, "Nothing could form a more curious collection of memoirs than_anecdotes of preferment_. " Could the secret history of great men betraced, it would appear that merit is rarely the first step toadvancement. It would much oftener be found to be owing to superficialqualifications, and even vices. 

NOBILITY. 

Francis the First was accustomed to say, that when the nobles of hiskingdom came to court, they were received by the world as so many little_kings_; that the day after they were only beheld as so many _princes_;but on the third day they were merely considered as so many _gentlemen_, and were confounded among the crowd of courtiers. --It was supposed thatthis was done with a political view of humbling the proud _nobility_;and for this reason Henry IV. Frequently said aloud, in the presence ofthe princes of the blood, _We are all gentlemen. _

It is recorded of Philip the Third of Spain, that while he exacted themost punctilious respect from the _grandees_, he saluted the _peasants_. He would never be addressed but on the knees; for which he gave thisartful excuse, that as he was of low stature, every one would haveappeared too high for him. He showed himself rarely even to hisgrandees, that he might the better support his haughtiness and represstheir pride. He also affected to speak to them by half words; andreprimanded them if they did not guess the rest. In a word, he omittednothing that could mortify _his nobility. _

MODES OF SALUTATION, AND AMICABLE CEREMONIES, OBSERVED IN VARIOUSNATIONS. 

When men, writes the philosophical compiler of "_L'Esprit des Usages etdes Coutumes_, " salute each other in an amicable manner, it signifieslittle whether they move a particular part of the body, or practise aparticular ceremony. In these actions there must exist differentcustoms. Every nation imagines it employs the most reasonable ones; butall are equally simple, and none are to be treated as ridiculous. 

This infinite number of ceremonies may be reduced to two kinds; toreverences or salutations, and to the touch of some part of the humanbody. To bend and prostrate oneself to express sentiments of respect, appears to be a natural motion; for terrified persons throw themselveson the earth when they adore invisible beings; and the affectionatetouch of the person they salute is an expression of tenderness. 

As nations decline from their ancient simplicity, much farce and grimaceare introduced. Superstition, the manners of a people, and theirsituation, influence the modes of salutation; as may be observed fromthe instances we collect. 

Modes of salutation have sometimes very different characters, and it isno uninteresting speculation to examine their shades. Many display arefinement of delicacy, while others are remarkable for theirsimplicity, or for their sensibility. In general, however, they arefrequently the same in the infancy of nations, and in more polishedsocieties. Respect, humility, fear, and esteem, are expressed much in asimilar manner, for these are the natural consequence of theorganisation of the body. 

These demonstrations become in time only empty civilities, which signifynothing; we shall notice what they were originally, without reflectingon what they are. 

Primitive nations have no peculiar modes of salutation; they know noreverences or other compliments, or they despise and disdain them. TheGreenlanders laugh when they see an European uncover his head, and bendhis body before him whom he calls his superior. 

The Islanders, near the Philippines, take the hand or foot of him theysalute, and with it they gently rub their face. The Laplanders applytheir nose strongly against that of the person they salute. Dampiersays, that at New Guinea they are satisfied to put on their heads theleaves of trees, which have ever passed for symbols of friendship andpeace. This is at least a picturesque salute. 

Other salutations are very incommodious and painful; it requires greatpractice to enable a man to be polite in an island situated in thestraits of the Sound. Houtman tells us they saluted him in thisgrotesque manner: "They raised his left foot, which they passed gentlyover the right leg, and from thence over his face. " The inhabitants ofthe Philippines use a most complex attitude; they bend their body verylow, place their hands on their cheeks, and raise at the same time onefoot in the air with their knee bent. 

An Ethiopian takes the robe of another, and ties it about his own waist, so that he leaves his friend half naked. This custom of undressing onthese occasions takes other forms; sometimes men place themselves nakedbefore the person whom they salute; it is to show their humility, andthat they are unworthy of appearing in his presence. This was practisedbefore Sir Joseph Banks, when he received the visits of two femaleOtaheitans. Their innocent simplicity, no doubt, did not appear immodestin the eyes of the _virtuoso_. 

Sometimes they only undress partially. The Japanese only take off aslipper; the people of Arracan their sandals in the street, and theirstockings in the house. 

In the progress of time it appears servile to uncover oneself. Thegrandees of Spain claim the right of appearing covered before the king, to show that they are not so much subjected to him as the rest of thenation: and (this writer truly observes) we may remark that the_English_ do not uncover their heads so much as the other nations ofEurope. Mr. Hobhouse observes that uncovering the head, with the Turks, is a mark of indecent familiarity; in their mosques the Franks must keeptheir hats on. The Jewish custom of wearing their hats in theirsynagogues is, doubtless, the same oriental custom. 

In a word, there is not a nation, observes the humorous Montaigne, evento the people who when they salute turn their backs on their friends, but that can be justified in their customs. 

The negroes are lovers of ludicrous actions, and hence all theirceremonies seem farcical. The greater part pull the fingers till theycrack. Snelgrave gives an odd representation of the embassy which theking of Dahomy sent to him. The ceremonies of salutation consisted inthe most ridiculous contortions. When two negro monarchs visit, theyembrace in snapping three times the middle finger. 

Barbarous nations frequently imprint on their salutations thedispositions of their character. When the inhabitants of Carmena (saysAthenæus) would show a peculiar mark of esteem, they breathed a vein, and presented for the beverage of their friend the flowing blood. TheFranks tore the hair from their head, and presented it to the personthey saluted. The slave cut his hair, and offered it to his master. 

The Chinese are singularly affected in their personal civilities. Theyeven calculate the number of their reverences. These are the mostremarkable postures. The men move their hands in an affectionate manner, while they are joined together on the breast, and bow their head alittle. If they respect a person, they raise their hands joined, andthen lower them to the earth in bending the body. If two persons meetafter a long separation, they both fall on their knees and bend the faceto the earth, and this ceremony they repeat two or three times. Surelywe may differ here with the sentiment of Montaigne, and confess thisceremony to be ridiculous. It arises from their national affectation. They substitute artificial ceremonies for natural actions. 

Their expressions mean as little as their ceremonies. If a Chinese isasked how he finds himself in health, he answers, _Very well; thanks toyour abundant felicity_. If they would tell a man that he looks well, they say, _Prosperity is painted on your face_: or, _Your air announcesyour happiness_. 

If you render them any service, they say, _My thanks shall be immortal_. If you praise them, they answer, _How shall I dare to persuade myself ofwhat you say of me_? If you dine with them, they tell you at parting, _We have not treated you with sufficient distinction_. The varioustitles they invent for each other it would be impossible to translate. 

It is to be observed that all these answers are prescribed by theChinese ritual, or Academy of Compliments. There, are determined thenumber of bows: the expressions to be employed; the genuflexions, andthe inclinations which are to be made to the right or left hand; thesalutations of the master before the chair where the stranger is to beseated, for he salutes it most profoundly, and wipes the dust away withthe skirts of his robe; all these and other things are noticed, even tothe silent gestures by which you are entreated to enter the house. Thelower class of people are equally nice in these punctilios; andambassadors pass forty days in practising them before they are enabledto appear at court. A tribunal of ceremonies has been erected; and everyday very odd decrees are issued, to which the Chinese most religiouslysubmit. 

The marks of honour are frequently arbitrary; to be seated with us is amark of repose and familiarity; to stand up, that of respect. There arecountries, however, in which princes will only be addressed by personswho are seated, and it is considered as a favour to be permitted tostand in their presence. This custom prevails in despotic countries; adespot cannot suffer without disgust the elevated figure of hissubjects; he is pleased to bend their bodies with their genius; hispresence must lay those who behold him prostrate on the earth; hedesires no eagerness, no attention; he would only inspire terror. 

FIRE, AND THE ORIGIN OF FIREWORKS. 

In the Memoirs of the French Academy, a little essay on this subject issufficiently curious; the following contains the facts:--

FIREWORKS were not known to antiquity. --It is certainly a moderninvention. If ever the ancients employed fires at their festivals, itwas only for religious purposes. 

Fire, in primæval ages, was a symbol of respect, or an instrument ofterror. In both these ways God manifested himself to man. In the holywritings he compares himself sometimes to an ardent fire, to display hisholiness and his purity; sometimes he renders himself visible under theform of a burning bush, to express himself to be as formidable as adevouring fire: again, he rains sulphur; and often, before he speaks, heattracts the attention of the multitude by flashes of lightning. 

Fire was worshipped as a divinity by several idolaters: the Platonistsconfounded it with the heavens, and considered it as the divineintelligence. Sometimes it is a symbol of majesty. --God walked (if wemay so express ourselves) with his people, preceded by a pillar of fire;and the monarchs of Asia, according to Herodotus, commanded that suchensigns of their majesty should be carried before them. These fires, according to Quintus Curtius, were considered as holy and eternal, andwere carried at the head of their armies on little altars of silver, inthe midst of the magi who accompanied them and sang their hymns. 

Fire was also a symbol of majesty amongst the Romans; and if it was usedby them in their festivals, it was rather employed for the ceremonies ofreligion than for a peculiar mark of their rejoicings. Fare was alwaysheld to be most proper and holy for sacrifices; in this the Pagansimitated the Hebrews. The fire so carefully preserved by the Vestals wasprobably an imitation of that which fell from heaven on the victimoffered by Aaron, and long afterwards religiously kept up by thepriests. Servius, one of the seven kings of Rome, commanded a great fireof straw to be kindled in the public place of every town in Italy toconsecrate for repose a certain day in seed-time, or sowing. 

The Greeks lighted lamps at a certain feast held in honour of Minerva, who gave them oil; of Vulcan, who was the inventor of lamps; and ofPrometheus, who had rendered them service by the fire which he hadstolen from heaven. Another feast to Bacchus was celebrated by a grandnocturnal illumination, in which wine was poured forth profusely to allpassengers. A feast in memory of Ceres, who sought so long in thedarkness of hell for her daughter, was kept by burning a number oftorches. 

Great illuminations were made in various other meetings; particularlyin the Secular Games, which lasted three whole nights; and so carefullywere they kept up, that these nights had no darkness. 

In all their rejoicings the ancients indeed used fires; but they wereintended merely to burn their sacrifices, and, as the generality of themwere performed at night, the illuminations served to give light to theceremonies. 

Artificial fires were indeed frequently used by them, but not in publicrejoicings; like us, they employed them for military purposes; but weuse them likewise successfully for our decorations and amusement. 

From the latest times of paganism to the early ages of Christianity, wecan but rarely quote instances of fire lighted up for other purposes, ina public form, than for the ceremonies of religion; illuminations weremade at the baptism of princes, as a symbol of that life of light inwhich they were going to enter by faith; or at the tombs of martyrs, tolight them during the watchings of the night. All these were abolished, from the various abuses they introduced. 

We only trace the rise of _feux-de-joie_, or fireworks, given merely foramusing spectacles to delight the eye, to the epocha of the invention ofpowder and cannon, at the close of the thirteenth century. It was thesetwo inventions, doubtless, whose effects furnished the ideas of allthose machines and artifices which form the charms of these fires. 

To the Florentines and the Siennese are we indebted not only for thepreparation of powder with other ingredients to amuse the eyes, but alsofor the invention of elevated machines and decorations adapted toaugment the pleasure of the spectacle. They began their attempts at thefeasts of Saint John the Baptist and the Assumption, on wooden edifices, which they adorned with painted statues, from whose mouth and eyesissued a beautiful fire. Callot has engraven numerous specimens of thepageants, triumphs, and processions, under a great variety of grotesqueforms:--dragons, swans, eagles, &c. , which were built up large enough tocarry many persons, while they vomited forth the most amusing firework. 

This use passed from Florence to Rome, where, at the creation of thepopes, they displayed illuminations of hand-grenadoes, thrown from theheight of a castle. _Pyrotechnics_ from that time have become an art, which, in the degree the inventors have displayed ability in combiningthe powers of architecture, sculpture, and painting, have produced anumber of beautiful effects, which even give pleasure to those who readthe descriptions without having beheld them. [6]

A pleasing account of decorated fireworks is given in the Secret Memoirsof France. In August, 1764, Torré, an Italian artist, obtainedpermission to exhibit a pyrotechnic operation. --The Parisians admiredthe variety of the colours, and the ingenious forms of his fire. But hisfirst exhibition was disturbed by the populace, as well as by theapparent danger of the fire, although it was displayed on theBoulevards. In October it was repeated; and proper precautions havingbeen taken, they admired the beauty of the fire, without fearing it. These artificial fires are described as having been rapidly andsplendidly executed. The exhibition closed with a transparent triumphalarch, and a curtain illuminated by the same fire, admirably exhibitingthe palace of Pluto. Around the columns, stanzas were inscribed, supported by Cupids, with other fanciful embellishments. Among theselittle pieces of poetry appeared the following one, which ingeniouslyannounced a more perfect exhibition:

 Les vents, les frimats, les orages, Eteindront ces FEUX, pour un tems; Mais, ainsi que les FLEURS, avec plus d'avautage, Ils renaîtront dans le printems. 

 IMITATED. 

 The icy gale, the falling snow, Extinction to these FIRES shall bring; But, like the FLOWERS, with brighter glow, They shall renew their charms in spring. 

The exhibition was greatly improved, according to this promise of theartist. His subject was chosen with much felicity; it was arepresentation of the forges of Vulcan under Mount Ætna. The interior ofthe mount discovered Vulcan and his Cyclops. Venus was seen to descend, and demand of her consort armour for Æneas. Opposite to this was seenthe palace of Vulcan, which presented a deep and brilliant perspective. The labours of the Cyclops produced numberless very happy combinationsof artificial fires. The public with pleasing astonishment beheld theeffects of the volcano, so admirably adapted to the nature of thesefires. At another entertainment he gratified the public with arepresentation of Orpheus and Eurydice in hell; many strikingcircumstances occasioned a marvellous illusion. What subjects indeedcould be more analogous to this kind of fire? Such scenical fireworksdisplay more brilliant effects than our stars, wheels, and rockets. 

THE BIBLE PROHIBITED AND IMPROVED. 

The following are the _express words_ contained in the regulation of thepopes to prohibit the use of the _Bible_. 

"As it is manifest, by _experience_, that if the use of the holy writersis permitted in the vulgar tongue more evil than profit will arise, _because_ of the temerity of man; it is for this reason all Bibles areprohibited (_prohibentur Biblia_) with all their _parts_, whether theybe printed or written, in whatever vulgar language soever; as also areprohibited all summaries or abridgments of Bibles, or any books of theholy writings, although they should only be historical, and that inwhatever Vulgar tongue they may be written. "

It is there also said, "That the reading the Bibles of _catholiceditors_ may be permitted to those by whose perusal or power the _faith_may be spread, and who will not _criticise_ it. But this _permission_ isnot to be granted without an express _order_ of the _bishop_, or the_inquisitor_, with the _advice_ of the _curate_ and _confessor_; andtheir permission must first be had in _writing_. And he who, withoutpermission, presumes to _read_ the holy writings, or to have them in his_possession_, shall not be _absolved_ of his sins before he first shallhave returned the Bible to his bishop. "

A Spanish author says, that if a person should come to his bishop to askfor leave to _read_ the _Bible_, with the best intention, the bishopshould answer him from Matthew, ch. Xx. Ver. 20, "_You know not what youask_. " And indeed, he observes, the nature of this demand indicates an_heretical disposition_. 

The reading of the Bible was prohibited by Henry VIII. , except by thosewho occupied high offices in the state; a noble lady or gentlewomanmight read it in "their garden or orchard, " or other retired places; butmen and women in the lower ranks were positively forbidden to read it, or to have it read to them, under the penalty of a month's imprisonment. 

Dr. Franklin has preserved an anecdote of the prohibited Bible in thetime of our Catholic Mary. His family had an English Bible; and toconceal it the more securely, they conceived the project of fastening itopen with packthreads across the leaves, on the inside of the lid of aclose-stool! "When my great-grandfather wished to read to his family, hereversed the lid of the close-stool upon his knees, and passed theleaves from one side to the other, which were held down on each by thepackthread. One of the children was stationed at the door to give noticeif he saw an officer of the Spiritual Court make his appearance; in thatcase the lid was restored to its place, with the Bible concealed underit as before. "

The reader may meditate on what the _popes did_, and what they probablywould _have done_, had not Luther happily been in a humour to abuse thepope, and begin a REFORMATION. It would be curious to sketch an accountof the _probable_ situation of _Europe_ at the present moment, had thepontiffs preserved the omnipotent power of which they had graduallypossessed themselves. 

It appears, by an act dated in 1516, that the Bible was called_Bibliotheca_, that is _per emphasim, the Library_. The word library waslimited in its signification then to the biblical writings; no otherbooks, compared with the holy writings, appear to have been worthy torank with them, or constitute what we call a library. 

We have had several remarkable attempts to recompose the Bible; Dr. Geddes's version is aridly literal, and often ludicrous by itsvulgarity; as when he translates the _Passover_ as the _Skipover_, andintroduces _Constables_ among the ancient Israelites; but the followingattempts are of a very different kind. Sebastian _Castillon_--whoafterwards changed his name to _Castalion_, with his accustomedaffectation referring to _Castalia_, the fountain of the Muses--took avery extraordinary liberty with the sacred writings. He fancied he couldgive the world a more classical version of the Bible, and for thispurpose introduces phrases and entire sentences from profane writersinto the text of holy writ. His whole style is finically quaint, overloaded with prettinesses, and all the ornaments of false taste. Ofthe noble simplicity of the Scripture he seems not to have had theremotest conception. 

But an attempt by Père Berruyer is more extraordinary; in his _Histoiredu Peuple de Dieu_, he has recomposed the Bible as he would have writtena fashionable novel. He conceives that the great legislator of theHebrews is too barren in his descriptions, too concise in the events herecords, nor is he careful to enrich his history by pleasing reflectionsand interesting conversation pieces, and hurries on the catastrophes, bywhich means he omits much entertaining matter: as for instance, in theloves of Joseph and the wife of Potiphar, Moses is very dry and concise, which, however, our Père Berruyer is not. His histories of Joseph, andof King David, are relishing morsels, and were devoured eagerly in allthe boudoirs of Paris. Take a specimen of the style. "Joseph combined, with a regularity of features and a brilliant complexion, an air of thenoblest dignity; all which contributed to render him one of the mostamiable men in Egypt. " At length "she declares her passion, and pressedhim to answer her. It never entered her mind that the advances of awoman of her rank could ever be rejected. Joseph at first only repliedto all her wishes by his cold embarrassments. She would not yet give himup. In vain he flies from her; she was too passionate to waste even themoments of his astonishment. " This good father, however, does amplejustice to the gallantry of the Patriarch Jacob. He offers to serveLaban, seven years for Rachel. "Nothing is too much, " cries thevenerable novelist, "when one really loves;" and this admirableobservation he confirms by the facility with which the obliging Rachelallows Leah for one night to her husband! In this manner the patriarchsare made to speak in the tone of the tenderest lovers; Judith is aParisian coquette, Holofernes is rude as a German baron; and theirdialogues are tedious with all the reciprocal politesse of metaphysicalFrench lovers! Moses in the desert, it was observed, is precisely aspedantic as Père Berruyer addressing his class at the university. Onecannot but smile at the following expressions:--"By the easy manner inwhich God performed miracles, one might easily perceive they cost noeffort. " When he has narrated an "Adventure of the Patriarchs, " heproceeds, "After such an extraordinary, or curious, or interestingadventure, " &c. This good father had caught the language of the beaumonde, but with such perfect simplicity that, in employing it on sacredhistory, he was not aware of the ludicrous style in which he waswriting. 

A Gothic bishop translated the Scriptures into the Goth language, butomitted the _Books of Kings_! lest the _wars_, of which so much is thererecorded, should increase their inclination to fighting, already tooprevalent. Jortin notices this castrated copy of the Bible in hisRemarks on Ecclesiastical History. 

As the Bible, in many parts, consists merely of historical transactions, and as too many exhibit a detail of offensive ones, it has oftenoccurred to the fathers of families, as well as to the popes, toprohibit its general reading. Archbishop Tillotson formed a design ofpurifying the historical parts. Those who have given us a _FamilyShakspeare_, in the same spirit may present us with a _Family Bible_. 

In these attempts to recompose the Bible, the broad vulgar colloquialdiction, which has been used by our theological writers, is lesstolerable than the quaintness of Castalion and the floridity of PèreBerruyer. 

The style now noticed long disgraced the writings of our divines; and wesee it sometimes still employed by some of a certain stamp. MatthewHenry, whose commentaries are well known, writes in this manner onJudges ix. :--"We are here told by what acts Abimelech _got into thesaddle_. --None would have _dreamed_ of making such a _fellow_ as heking. --See how he has _wheedled_ them into the choice. He hired into hisservice the _scum_ and _scoundrels_ of the country. Jotham was really a_fine gentleman_. --The Sechemites that set Abimelech up, were the firstto _kick him off_. The Sechemites said all the ill they could of him intheir _table-talk_; they _drank healths_ to his _confusion_. --Well, Gaal's interest in Sechem is soon at an end. _Exit Gaal_!"

Lancelot Addison, by the vulgar coarseness of his style, forms anadmirable contrast with the amenity and grace of his son's Spectators. He tells us, in his voyage to Barbary, that "A rabbin once told him, among other _heinous stuff_, that he did not expect the felicity of thenext world on the account of any merits but his own; whoever kept thelaw would arrive at the bliss, by _coming upon his own legs_. "

It must be confessed that the rabbin, considering he could notconscientiously have the same creed as Addison, did not deliver any very"heinous stuff, " in believing that other people's merits have nothing todo with our own; and that "we should stand on our own legs!" But thiswas not "proper words in proper places. "

ORIGIN OF THE MATERIALS OF WRITING. 

It is curious to observe the various substitutes for paper before itsdiscovery. 

Ere the invention of recording events by writing, trees were planted, rude altars were erected, or heaps of stone, to serve as memorials ofpast events. Hercules probably could not write when he fixed his famouspillars. 

The most ancient mode of writing was on _bricks_, _tiles_, and_oyster-shells_, and on _tables of stone_; afterwards on _plates_ ofvarious materials, on _ivory_, on _barks_ of trees, on _leaves_ oftrees. [7]

Engraving memorable events on hard substances was giving, as it were, speech to rocks and metals. In the book of Job mention is made ofwriting on _stone_, on _rocks_, and on sheets of _lead_. On tables of_stone_ Moses received the law written by the finger of God. Hesiod'sworks were written on _leaden_ tables: lead was used for writing, androlled up like a cylinder, as Pliny states. Montfaucon notices a veryancient book of eight leaden leaves, which on the back had ringsfastened by a small leaden rod to keep them together. They afterwardsengraved on bronze: the laws of the Cretans were on bronze tables; theRomans etched their public records on brass. The speech of Claudius, engraved on plates of bronze, is yet preserved in the town-hall ofLyons, in France. [8] Several bronze tables, with Etruscan characters, have been dug up in Tuscany. The treaties among the Romans, Spartans, and the Jews, were written on brass; and estates, for better security, were made over on this enduring metal. In many cabinets may be found thedischarge of soldiers, written on copper-plates. This custom has beendiscovered in India: a bill of feoffment on copper, has been dug up nearBengal, dated a century before the birth of Christ. 

Among these early inventions many were singularly rude, and miserablesubstitutes for a better material. In the shepherd state they wrotetheir songs with thorns and awls on straps of leather, which they woundround their crooks. The Icelanders appear to have scratched their_runes_, a kind of hieroglyphics, on walls; and Olaf, according to oneof the Sagas, built a large house, on the bulks and spars of which hehad engraved the history of his own and more ancient times; whileanother northern hero appears to have had nothing better than his ownchair and bed to perpetuate his own heroic acts on. At the town-hall, inHanover, are kept twelve wooden boards, overlaid with bees'-wax, onwhich are written the names of owners of houses, but not the names ofstreets. These _wooden manuscripts_ must have existed before 1423, whenHanover was first divided into streets. Such manuscripts may be found inpublic collections. These are an evidence of a rude state of _society_. The same event occurred among the ancient Arabs, who, according to thehistory of Mahomet, seemed to have carved on the shoulder-bones of sheepremarkable events with a knife, and tying them with a string, hung upthese sheep-bone chronicles. 

The laws of the twelve tables, which the Romans chiefly copied from theGrecian code, were, after they had been approved by the people, engravenon brass: they were melted by lightning, which struck the Capitol; aloss highly regretted by Augustus. This manner of writing we stillretain, for inscriptions, epitaphs, and other memorials designed toreach posterity. 

These early inventions led to the discovery of tables of _wood_; and as_cedar_ has an antiseptic quality from its bitterness, they chose thiswood for cases or chests to preserve their most important writings. Thiswell-known expression of the ancients, when they meant to give thehighest eulogium of an excellent work, _et cedro digna locuti_, that itwas worthy to be written on _cedar_, alludes to the _oil of cedar_, withwhich valuable MSS. Of parchment were anointed, to preserve them fromcorruption and moths. Persius illustrates this:--

 Who would not leave posterity such rhymes As _cedar oil_ might keep to latest times!

They stained materials for writing upon, with purple, and rubbed themwith exudations from the cedar. The laws of the emperors were publishedon _wooden tables_, painted with ceruse; to which custom Horace alludes:_Leges incidere ligno_. Such _tables_, the term now softened into_tablets_, are still used, but in general are made of other materialsthan wood. The same reason for which they preferred the _cedar_ to otherwood induced to write on _wax_, as being incorruptible. Men generallyused it to write their testaments on, the better to preserve them; thusJuvenal says, _Ceras implere capaces_. This thin paste of wax was alsoused on tablets of wood, that it might more easily admit of erasure, fordaily use. 

They wrote with an iron bodkin, as they did on the other substances wehave noticed. The _stylus_ was made sharp at one end to write with, andblunt and broad at the other, to efface and correct easily: hence thephrase _vertere stylum_, to turn the stylus, was used to expressblotting out. But the Romans forbad the use of this sharp instrument, from the circumstance of many persons having used them as daggers. Aschoolmaster was killed by the Pugillares or table-books, and the stylesof his own scholars. [9] They substituted a _stylus_ made of the bone ofa bird, or other animal; so that their writings resembled engravings. When they wrote on softer materials, they employed _reeds_ and _canes_split like our _pens_ at the points, which the orientalists still use tolay their colour or ink neater on the paper. 

Naudé observes, that when he was in Italy, about 1642, he saw some ofthose waxen tablets, called Pugillares, so called because they were heldin one hand; and others composed of the barks of trees, which theancients employed in lieu of paper. 

On these tablets, or table-books Mr. Astle observes, that the Greeks andRomans continued the use of waxed table-books long after the use of thepapyrus, leaves and skins became common; because they were convenientfor correcting extemporaneous compositions: from these table-books theytranscribed their performances correctly into parchment books, if fortheir own private use; but if for sale, or for the library, the_Librarii_, or Scribes, performed the office. The writing on table-booksis particularly recommended by Quintilian in the third chapter of thetenth book of his Institutions; because the wax is readily effaced forany corrections: he confesses weak eyes do not see so well on paper, andobserves that the frequent necessity of dipping the pen in the inkstandretards the hand, and is but ill-suited to the celerity of the mind. Some of these table-books are conjectured to have been large, andperhaps heavy, for in Plautus, a school-boy is represented breaking hismaster's head with his table-book. The critics, according to Cicero, were accustomed in reading their wax manuscripts to notice obscure orvicious phrases by joining a piece of red wax, as we should underlinesuch by red ink. 

Table-hooks written upon with styles were not entirely laid aside inChaucer's time, who describes them in his Sompner's tale:--

 His fellow had a staffe tipp'd with horne, _A paire of tables all of iverie_; And a _pointell polished_ fetouslie, And wrote alwaies the names, as he stood, Of all folke, that gave hem any good. [10]

By the word _pen_ in the translation of the Bible we must understand aniron _style_. Table-books of ivory are still used for memoranda, writtenwith black-lead pencils. The Romans used ivory to write the edicts ofthe senate on, with a black colour; and the expression of _librielephantini_, which some authors imagine alludes to books that for their_size_ were called _elephantine_, were most probably composed of ivory, the tusk of the elephant: among the Romans they were undoubtedly scarce. 

The _pumice stone_ was a writing-material of the ancients; they used itto smoothe the roughness of the parchment, or to sharpen their reeds. 

In the progress of time the art of writing consisted in _painting_ withdifferent kinds of _ink_. This novel mode of writing occasioned them toinvent other materials proper to receive their writing; the thin bark ofcertain _trees_ and _plants_, or _linen_; and at length, when this wasfound apt to become mouldy, they prepared the _skins of animals_; on thedried skins of serpents were once written the Iliad and Odyssey. Thefirst place where they began to dress these skins was _Pergamus_, inAsia; whence the Latin name is derived of _Pergamenoe_ or _parchment_. These skins are, however, better known amongst the authors of the purestLatin under the name of _membrana_; so called from the membranes ofvarious animals of which they were composed. The ancients had_parchments_ of three different colours, white, yellow, and purple. AtRome white parchment was disliked, because it was more subject to besoiled than the others, and dazzled the eye. They generally wrote inletters of gold and silver on purple or violet parchment. This customcontinued in the early ages of the church; and copies of the evangelistsof this kind are preserved in the British Museum. 

When the Egyptians employed for writing the _bark_ of a _plant_ or_reed_, called _papyrus_, or paper-rush, it superseded all former modes, for its convenience. Formerly it grew in great quantities on the sidesof the Nile. This plant has given its name to our _paper_, although thelatter is now composed of linen and rags, and formerly had been ofcotton-wool, which was but brittle and yellow; and improved by usingcotton rags, which they glazed. After the eighth century the papyrus wassuperseded by parchment. The _Chinese_ make their _paper_ with _silk_. The use of _paper_ is of great antiquity. It is what the ancientLatinists call _charta_ or _chartae_. Before the use of _parchment_ and_paper_ passed to the Romans, they used the thin peel found between thewood and the bark of trees. This skinny substance they called _liber_, from whence the Latin word _liber_, a book, and _library_ and_librarian_ in the European languages, and the French _livre_ for book;but we of northern origin derive our _book_ from the Danish _bog_, thebeech-tree, because that being the most plentiful in Denmark was used toengrave on. Anciently, instead of folding this bark, this parchment, orpaper, as we fold ours, they rolled it according as they wrote on it;and the Latin name which they gave these rolls has passed into ourlanguage as well as the others. We say a _volume_, or volumes, althoughour books are composed of leaves bound together. The books of theancients on the shelves of their libraries were rolled up on a pin andplaced erect, titled on the outside in red letters, or rubrics, andappeared like a number of small pillars on the shelves. [11]

The ancients were as curious as ourselves in having their books richlyconditioned. Propertius describes tablets with gold borders, and Ovidnotices their red titles; but in later times, besides the tint of purplewith which they tinged their vellum, and the liquid gold which theyemployed for their ink, they inlaid their covers with precious stones:and I have seen, in the library at Triers or Treves, a manuscript, thedonation of some princess to a monastery, studded with heads wrought infine cameos. [12] In the early ages of the church they painted on theoutside commonly a dying Christ. In the curious library of Mr. Douce isa Psalter, supposed once to have appertained to Charlemagne; the vellumis purple, and the letters gold. The Eastern nations likewise tingedtheir MSS. With different colours and decorations. Astle possessedArabian MSS. Of which some leaves were of a deep yellow, and others of alilac colour. Sir William Jones describes an oriental MS. In which thename of Mohammed was fancifully adorned with a garland of tulips andcarnations, painted in the brightest colours. The favourite works of thePersians are written on fine silky paper, the ground of which is oftenpowdered with gold or silver dust; the leaves are frequentlyilluminated, and the whole book is sometimes perfumed with essence ofroses, or sandal wood. The Romans had several sorts of paper, for whichthey had as many different names; one was the _Charta Augusta_, incompliment to the emperor; another _Livinia_, named after the empress. There was a _Charta blanca_, which obtained its title from its beautifulwhiteness, and which we appear to have retained by applying it to ablank sheet of paper which is only signed, _Charte Blanche_. They hadalso a _Charta nigra_, painted black, and the letters were in white orother colours. 

Our present paper surpasses all other materials for ease and convenienceof writing. The first paper-mill in England was erected at Dartford, bya German, in 1588, who was knighted by Elizabeth; but it was not before1713 that one Thomas Watkins, a stationer, brought the art ofpaper-making to any perfection, and to the industry of this individualwe owe the origin of our numerous paper-mills. France had hithertosupplied England and Holland. 

The manufacture of paper was not much encouraged at home, even so lateas in 1662; and the following observations by Fuller are curious, respecting the paper of his times:--"Paper participates in some sort ofthe characters of the country which makes it; the _Venetian_, beingneat, subtile, and court-like; the _French_, light, slight, and slender;the _Dutch_, thick, corpulent, and gross, sucking up the ink with thesponginess thereof. " He complains that the paper-manufactories were notthen sufficiently encouraged, "considering the vast sums of moneyexpended in our land for paper, out of Italy, France, and Germany, whichmight be lessened, were it made in our nation. To such who object thatwe can never equal the perfection of _Venice-paper_, I return, neithercan we match the purity of Venice-glasses; and yet many _green ones_ areblown in Sussex, profitable to the makers, and convenient for the users. Our _home-spun paper_ might be found beneficial. " The present Germanprinting-paper is made so disagreeable both to printers and readers fromtheir paper-manufacturers making many more reams of paper from one cwt. Of rags than formerly. Rags are scarce, and German writers, as well astheir language, are voluminous. 

Mr. Astle deeply complains of the inferiority of our _inks_ to those ofantiquity; an inferiority productive of the most serious consequences, and which appears to originate merely in negligence. From the importantbenefits arising to society from the use of ink, and the injuriesindividuals may suffer from the frauds of designing men, he wishes thelegislature would frame some new regulations respecting it. Thecomposition of ink is simple, but we possess none equal in beauty andcolour to that used by the ancients; the Saxon MSS. Written in Englandexceed in colour anything of the kind. The rolls and records from thefifteenth century to the end of the seventeenth, compared with those ofthe fifth to the twelfth centuries, show the excellence of the earlierones, which are all in the finest preservation; while the others are somuch defaced, that they are scarcely legible. 

The ink of the ancients had nothing in common with ours, but the colourand gum. Gall-nuts, copperas, and gum make up the composition of ourink; whereas _soot_ or _ivory-black_ was the chief ingredient in that ofthe ancients. [13]

Ink has been made of various colours; we find gold and silver ink, andred, green, yellow, and blue inks; but the black is considered as thebest adapted to its purpose. 

ANECDOTES OF EUROPEAN MANNERS. 

The following circumstances probably gave rise to the tyranny of thefeudal power, and are the facts on which the fictions of romance areraised. Castles were erected to repulse the vagrant attacks of theNormans; and in France, from the year 768 to 987, these places disturbedthe public repose. The petty despots who raised these castles pillagedwhoever passed, and carried off the females who pleased them. Rapine, ofevery kind were the _privileges_ of the feudal lords! Mezeray observes, that it is from these circumstances romancers have invented their talesof _knights errant_, _monsters_, and _giants_. 

De Saint Foix, in his "Historical Essays, " informs us that "women andgirls were not in greater security when they passed by abbeys. The monkssustained an assault rather than relinquish their prey: if they sawthemselves losing ground, they brought to their walls the relics of somesaint. Then it generally happened that the assailants, seized with awfulveneration, retired, and dared not pursue their vengeance. This is theorigin of the _enchanters_, of the _enchantments_, and of the _enchantedcastles_ described in romances. "

To these may be added what the author of "Northern Antiquities, " Vol. I. P. 243, writes, that as the walls of the castles ran winding roundthem, they often called them by a name which signified _serpents_ or_dragons_; and in these were commonly secured the women and young maidsof distinction, who were seldom safe at a time when so many boldwarriors were rambling up and down in search of adventures. It was thiscustom which gave occasion to ancient romancers, who knew not how todescribe anything simply, to invent so many fables concerning princessesof great beauty guarded by _dragons_. 

A singular and barbarous custom prevailed during this period; itconsisted in punishments by _mutilations_. It became so general that theabbots, instead of bestowing canonical penalties on their monks, obligedthem to cut off an ear, an arm, or a leg!

Velly, in his History of France, has described two festivals, which givea just idea of the manners and devotion of a later period, 1230, whichlike the ancient mysteries consisted of a mixture of farce and piety:religion in fact was their amusement! The following one existed even tothe Reformation:--

In the church of Paris, and in several other cathedrals of the kingdom, was held the _Feast of Fools_ or madmen. "The priests and clerksassembled elected a pope, an archbishop, or a bishop, conducted them ingreat pomp to the church, which they entered dancing, masked, anddressed in the apparel of women, animals, and merry-andrews; sunginfamous songs, and converted the altar into a beaufet, where they ateand drank during the celebration of the holy mysteries; played withdice; burned, instead of incense, the leather of their old sandals; ranabout, and leaped from seat to seat, with all the indecent postures withwhich the merry-andrews know how to amuse the populace. "

The other does not yield in extravagance. "This festival was called the_Feast of Asses_, and was celebrated at Beauvais. They chose a youngwoman, the handsomest in the town; they made her ride on an ass richlyharnessed, and placed in her arms a pretty infant. [14] In this state, followed by the bishop and clergy, she marched in procession from thecathedral to the church of St. Stephen's; entered into the sanctuary;placed herself near the altar, and the mass began; whatever the choirsung was terminated by this charming burthen, _Hihan, hihan_! Theirprose, half Latin and half French, explained the fine qualities of theanimal. Every strophe finished by this delightful invitation:--

 Hez, sire Ane, ça chantez, Belle bouche rechignez, Vous aurés du foin assez, Et de l'avoine si plantez. 

They at length exhorted him, in making a devout genuflexion, to forgethis ancient food, for the purpose of repeating without ceasing, _Amen, Amen_. The priest, instead of _Ite missa est_, sung three times, _Hihan, hihan, hihan_! and the people three times answered, _Hihan, hihan, hihan_! to imitate the braying of that grave animal. [15]

What shall we think of this imbecile mixture of superstition and farce?This _ass_ was perhaps typical of the _ass_ which Jesus rode! Thechildren of Israel worshipped a golden ass, and Balaam made anotherspeak. How fortunate then was _James Naylor_, who desirous of enteringBristol on an _ass_, Hume informs us--it is indeed but a piece of coldpleasantry--that all Bristol could not afford him _one_!

At the time when all these follies were practised, they would not suffermen to play at _chess_! Velly says, "A statute of Eudes de Sullyprohibits clergymen not only from playing at chess, but even from havinga chess-board in their house. " Who could believe, that while half theceremonies of religion consisted in the grossest buffoonery, a princepreferred death rather than cure himself by a remedy which offended hischastity! Louis VIII. Being dangerously ill, the physicians consulted, and agreed to place near the monarch while he slept a young andbeautiful lady, who, when he awoke, should inform him of the motivewhich had conducted her to him. Louis answered, "No, my girl, I preferdying rather than to save my life by a _mortal sin_!" And, in fact, thegood king died! He would not be prescribed for out of the wholePharmacopoeia of Love!

An account of our taste in female beauty is given, by Mr. Ellis, whoobserves, in his notes to Way's Fabliaux, "In the times of chivalry theminstrels dwelt with great complacency on the fair hair and delicatecomplexion of their damsels. This taste was continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was a great object of education. Even whenwig first came into fashion they were all flaxen. Such was the colour ofthe Gauls and of their German conquerors. It required some centuries toreconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their Spanish and theirItalian neighbours. "[16]

The following is an amusing anecdote of the difficulty in which anhonest Vicar of Bray found himself in those contentious times. 

When the court of Rome, under the pontificates of Gregory IX. AndInnocent IV. , set no bounds to their ambitious projects, they wereopposed by the Emperor Frederick; who was of course anathematised. Acurate of Paris, a humorous fellow, got up in his pulpit with the bullof Innocent in his hand. "You know, my brethren (said he), that I amordered to proclaim an excommunication against Frederick. I am ignorantof the motive. All that I know is, that there exist, between this Princeand the Roman Pontiff great differences, and an irreconcileable hatred. God only knows which of the two is wrong. Therefore with all my power Iexcommunicate him who injures the other; and I absolve him who suffers, to the great scandal of all Christianity. "

The following anecdotes relate to a period which is sufficiently remoteto excite curiosity; yet not so distant as to weaken the interest wefeel in those minutiæ of the times. 

The present one may serve as a curious specimen of the despotism andsimplicity of an age not literary, in discovering the author of a libel. It took place in the reign of Henry VIII. A great jealousy subsistedbetween the Londoners and those foreigners who traded here. Theforeigners probably (observes Mr. Lodge, in his Illustrations of EnglishHistory) worked cheaper and were more industrious. 

There was a libel affixed on St. Paul's door, which reflected on HenryVIII. And these foreigners, who were accused of buying up the wool withthe king's money, to the undoing of Englishmen. This tended to inflamethe minds of the people. The method adopted to discover the writer ofthe libel must excite a smile in the present day, while it shows thestate in which knowledge must have been in this country. The planadopted was this: In every ward one of the King's council, with analderman of the same, was commanded to see every man write that could, and further took every man's book and sealed them, and brought them toGuildhall to confront them with the original. So that if of this numbermany wrote alike, the judges must have been much puzzled to fix on thecriminal. 

Our hours of refection are singularly changed in little more than twocenturies. In the reign of Francis I. (observes the author ofRécréations Historiques) they were accustomed to say, --

 Lever à cinq, dîner à neuf, Souper à cinq, coucher à neuf, Fait vivre d'ans nonante et neuf. 

Historians observe of Louis XII. That one of the causes whichcontributed to hasten his death was the entire change of his regimen. The good king, by the persuasion of his wife, says the history ofBayard, changed his manner of living: when he was accustomed to dine ateight o'clock, he agreed to dine at twelve; and when he was used toretire at six o'clock in the evening, he frequently sat up as late asmidnight. 

Houssaie gives the following authentic notice drawn from the registersof the court, which presents a curious account of domestic life in thefifteenth century. Of the dauphin Louis, son of Charles VI. , who died atthe age of twenty, we are told, "that he knew the Latin and Frenchlanguages; that he had many musicians in his chapel; passed the night invigils; dined at three in the afternoon, supped at midnight, went to bedat the break of day, and thus was _ascertené_ (that is threatened) witha short life. " Froissart mentions waiting upon the Duke of Lancaster atfive o'clock in the afternoon, when he _had supped_. 

The custom of dining at nine in the morning relaxed greatly underFrancis I. , successor of Louis XII. However, persons of quality dinedthen the latest at ten; and supper was at five or six in the evening. Wemay observe this in the preface to the Heptameron of the Queen ofNavarre, where this princess, describing the mode of life which thelords and ladies whom she assembles at the castle of Madame Oysille, should follow, to be agreeably occupied and to banish languor, thusexpresses herself: "As soon as the morning rose, they went to thechamber of Madame Oysille, whom they found already at her prayers; andwhen they had heard during a good hour her lecture, and then the mass, they went to dine at ten o'clock; and afterwards each privately retiredto his room, but did not fail at noon to meet in the meadow. " Speakingof the end of the first day (which was in September) the same ladyOysille says, "Say where is the sun? and hear the bell of the abbey, which has for some time called us to vespers; in saying this they allrose and went to the religionists _who had waited for them above anhour_. Vespers heard, they went to supper, and after having played athousand sports in the meadow they retired to bed. " All this exactlycorresponds with the lines above quoted. Charles V. Of France, however, who lived near two centuries before Francis, dined at ten, supped atseven, and all the court was in bed by nine o'clock. They sounded thecurfew, which bell warned them to cover their fire, at six in thewinter, and between eight and nine in the summer. Under the reign ofHenry IV. The hour of dinner at court was eleven, or at noon the latest;a custom which prevailed even in the early part of the reign of LouisXIV. In the provinces distant from Paris, it is very common to dine atnine; they make a second repast about two o'clock, sup at five; andtheir last meal is made just before they retire to bed. The labourersand peasants in France have preserved this custom, and make three meals;one at nine, another at three, and the last at the setting of the sun. 

The Marquis of Mirabeau, in "L'Ami des Hommes, " Vol. I. P. 261, gives astriking representation of the singular industry of the French citizensof that age. He had learnt from several ancient citizens of Paris, thatif in their youth a workman did not work two hours by candle-light, either in the morning or evening, he even adds in the longest days, hewould have been noticed as an idler, and would not have found personsto employ him. On the 12th of May, 1588, when Henry III. Ordered histroops to occupy various posts at Paris, Davila writes that theinhabitants, warned by the noise of the drums, began to shut their doorsand shops, which, according to the customs of that town to work beforedaybreak, were already opened. This must have been, taking it at thelatest, about four in the morning. "In 1750, " adds the ingenious writer, "I walked on that day through Paris at full six in the morning; I passedthrough the most busy and populous part of the city, and I only saw opensome stalls of the vendors of brandy!"

To the article, "Anecdotes of Fashions, " (see Vol. I. , p. 216) we mayadd, that in England a taste for splendid dress existed in the reign ofHenry VII. ; as is observable by the following description of NicholasLord Vaux. "In the 17th of that reign, at the marriage of Prince Arthur, the brave young Vaux appeared in a gown of purple velvet, adorned withpieces of gold so thick, and massive, that, exclusive of the silk andfurs, it was valued at a thousand pounds. About his neck he wore acollar of SS, weighing eight hundred pounds in nobles. In those days itnot only required great bodily strength to support the weight of theircumbersome armour; their very luxury of apparel for the drawing-roomwould oppress a system of modern muscles. "

In the following reign, according to the monarch's and Wolsey'smagnificent taste, their dress was, perhaps, more generally sumptuous. We then find the following rich ornaments in vogue. Shirts and shiftswere embroidered with gold, and bordered with lace. Strutt notices alsoperfumed gloves lined with white velvet, and splendidly worked withembroidery and gold buttons. Not only gloves, but various other parts oftheir habits, were perfumed; shoes were made of Spanish perfumed skins. 

Carriages were not then used;[17] so that lords would carry princesseson a pillion behind them, and in wet weather the ladies covered theirheads with hoods of oil-cloth: a custom that has been generallycontinued to the middle of the seventeenth century. Coaches wereintroduced into England by Fitzalan Earl of Arundel, in 1580, and atfirst were only drawn by a pair of horses. The favourite Buckingham, about 1619, began to have them drawn by six horses; and Wilson, in hislife of James I. , tells us this "was wondered at as a novelty, andimputed to him as a mastering pride. " The same _arbiter elegantiarum_introduced sedan-chairs. In France, Catherine of Medicis was the firstwho used a coach, which had leathern doors and curtains, instead ofglass windows. If the carriage of Henry IV. Had had glass windows, thiscircumstance might have saved his life. Carriages were so rare in thereign of this monarch, that in a letter to his minister Sully, henotices that having taken medicine that day, though he intended to havecalled on him, he was prevented because the queen had gone out with thecarriage. Even as late as in the reign of Louis XIV. The courtiers rodeon horseback to their dinner parties, and wore their light boots andspurs. Count Hamilton describes his boots of white Spanish leather, withgold spurs. 

Saint Foix observes, that in 1658 there were only 310 coaches in Paris, and in 1758 there were more than 14, 000. 

Strutt has judiciously observed, that though "luxury and grandeur wereso much affected, and appearances of state and splendour carried to suchlengths, we may conclude that their household furniture and domesticnecessaries were also carefully attended to; on passing through theirhouses, we may expect to be surprised at the neatness, elegance, andsuperb appearance of each room, and the suitableness of every ornament;but herein we may be deceived. The taste of elegance amongst ourancestors was very different from the present, and however we may findthem extravagant in their apparel, excessive in their banquets, andexpensive in their trains of attendants; yet, follow them home, andwithin their houses you shall find their furniture is plain and homely;no great choice, but what was useful, rather than any for ornament orshow. "

Erasmus, as quoted by Jortin, confirms this account, and makes it worse;he gives a curious account of English dirtiness; he ascribes the plague, from which England was hardly ever free, and the sweating-sickness, partly to the incommodious form, and bad exposition of the houses, tothe filthiness of the streets, and to the sluttishness within doors. "The floors, " says he, "are commonly of clay, strewed with rushes; underwhich lies, unmolested, an ancient collection of beer, grease, fragments, bones, spittle, excrement of dogs and cats, and everythingthat is nasty. "[18] And NOW, certainly we are the cleanest nation inEurope, and the word COMFORTABLE expresses so peculiar an idea, that ithas been adopted by foreigners to describe a sensation experiencednowhere but in England. 

I shall give a sketch of the domestic life of a nobleman in the reign ofCharles the First, from the "Life of the Duke of Newcastle, " written byhis Duchess, whom I have already noticed. It might have been impertinentat the time of its publication; it will now please those who are curiousabout English manners. 

 "_Of his Habit_. 

"He accoutres his person according to the fashion, if it be one that isnot troublesome and uneasy for men of heroic exercises and actions. Heis neat and cleanly; which makes him to be somewhat long in dressing, though not so long as many effeminate persons are. He shifts ordinarilyonce a day, and every time when he uses exercise, or his temper is morehot than ordinary. 

 "_Of his Diet_. 

"In his diet he is so sparing and temperate, that he never eats nordrinks beyond his set proportion, so as to satisfy only his naturalappetite; he makes but one meal a day, at which he drinks two goodglasses of small beer, one about the beginning, the other at the endthereof, and a little glass of sack in the middle of his dinner; whichglass of sack he also uses in the morning for his breakfast, with amorsel of bread. His supper consists of an egg and a draught of smallbeer. And by this temperance he finds himself very healthful, and mayyet live many years, he being now of the age of seventy-three. 

 "_His Recreation and Exercise_. 

"His prime pastime and recreation hath always been the exercise ofmannage and weapons, which heroic arts he used to practise every day;but I observing that when he had overheated himself he would be apt totake cold, prevailed so far, that at last he left the frequent use ofthe mannage, using nevertheless still the exercise of weapons; andthough he doth not ride himself so frequently as he hath done, yet hetaketh delight in seeing his horses of mannage rid by his escuyers, whomhe instructs in that art for his own pleasure. But in the art of weapons(in which he has a method beyond all that ever was famous in it, foundout by his own ingenuity and practice) he never taught any body but thenow Duke of Buckingham, whose guardian he hath been, and his own twosons. The rest of his time he spends in music, poetry, architecture, andthe like. "

The value of money, and the increase of our opulence, might form, saysJohnson, a curious subject of research. In the reign of Edward theSixth, Latimer mentions it as a proof of his father's prosperity, thatthough but a yeoman, he gave his daughters five pounds each for theirportion. [19] At the latter end of Elizabeth's reign, seven hundredpounds were such a temptation to courtship, as made all other motivessuspected. Congreve makes twelve thousand pounds more than acounterbalance to the affection of Belinda. No poet will now fly hisfavourite character at less than fifty thousand. Clarissa Harlowe hadbut a moderate fortune. 

In Sir John Vanbrugh's Confederacy, a woman of fashion is presented witha bill of millinery _as long as herself_. --Yet it only amounts to a poorfifty pounds! at present this sounds oddly on the stage. I have heard ofa lady of quality and fashion who had a bill of her fancy dressmaker, for the expenditure of one year, to the tune of, or rather, which closedin the deep diapason of, six thousand pounds!

THE EARLY DRAMA. 

"It is curious to trace the first rude attempts of the drama in variousnations; to observe at that moment how crude is the imagination, and totrace the caprices it indulges; and that the resemblance in theseattempts holds in the earliest essays of Greece, of France, of Spain, ofEngland, and, what appears extraordinary, even of China and Mexico. "

The rude beginnings of the drama of Greece are sufficiently known, andthe old _mysteries_ of Europe have been exhibited in a former article. The progress of the French theatre has been this:--

Etienne Jodelle, in 1552, seems to have been the first who had a tragedyrepresented of his own invention, entitled Cleopatra--it was a servileimitation of the form of the Grecian tragedy; but if this did notrequire the highest genius, it did the utmost intrepidity; for thepeople were, through long habit, intoxicated with the wild amusementthey amply received from their farces and moralities. 

The following curious anecdote, which followed the first attempt atclassical imitation, is very observable. Jodelle's success was such, that his rival poets, touched by the spirit of the Grecian muse, showeda singular proof of their enthusiasm for this new poet, in a _classical_festivity which gave room for no little scandal in that day; yet as itwas produced by a carnival, it was probably a kind of drunken bout. Fifty poets, during the carnival of 1552, went to Arcueil. Chance, saysthe writer of the life of the old French bard Ronsard, who was one ofthe present _profane_ party, threw across their road a _goat_--whichhaving caught, they ornamented the goat with chaplets of flowers, andcarried it triumphantly to the hall of their festival, to appear tosacrifice to Bacchus, and to present it to Jodelle; for the goat, amongthe ancients, was the prize of the tragic bards; the victim of Bacchus, who presided over tragedy, Carmine, qui tragico, vilem certavit ob hircum. 

The goat thus adorned, and his beard painted, was hunted about the longtable, at which the fifty poets were seated; and after having servedthem for a subject of laughter for some time, he was hunted out of theroom, and not sacrificed to Bacchus. Each of the guests made verses onthe occasion, in imitation of the Bacchanalia of the ancients. Ronsardcomposed some dithyrambics to celebrate the festival of the goat ofEtienne Jodelle; and another, entitled "Our travels to Arcueil. "However, this Bacchaualian freak did not finish as it ought, where ithad begun, among the poets. Several ecclesiastics sounded the alarm, andone Chandieu accused Ronsard with having performed an idolatroussacrifice; and it was easy to accuse the moral habits of _fifty poets_assembled together, who were far, doubtless, from being irreproachable. They repented for some time of their classical sacrifice of a goat toTragedy. 

Hardi, the French Lope de Vega, wrote 800 dramatic pieces from 1600 to1637; his imagination was the most fertile possible; but so wild andunchecked, that though its extravagances are very amusing, they servedas so many instructive lessons to his successors. One may form a notionof his violation of the unities by his piece "La Force du Sang. " In thefirst act Leocadia is carried off and ravished. In the second she issent back with an evident sign of pregnancy. In the third she lies in, and at the close of this act her son is about ten years old. In thefourth, the father of the child acknowledges him; and in the fifth, lamenting his son's unhappy fate, he marries Leocadia. Such are thepieces in the infancy of the drama. 

Rotrou was the first who ventured to introduce several persons in thesame scene; before his time they rarely exceeded two persons; if a thirdappeared, he was usually a mute actor, who never joined the other two. The state of the theatre was even then very rude; the most lasciviousembraces were publicly given and taken; and Rotrou even ventured tointroduce a naked page in the scene, who in this situation holds adialogue with one of his heroines. In another piece, "_Scedase, oul'hospitalité violée_, " Hardi makes two young Spartans carry offScedase's two daughters, ravish them on the stage, and, violating themin the side scenes, the spectators heard their cries and theircomplaints. Cardinal Richelieu made the theatre one of his favouritepursuits, and though not successful as a dramatic writer, hisencouragement of the drama gradually gave birth to genius. Scudery wasthe first who introduced the twenty-four hours from Aristotle; andMairet studied the construction of the fable, and the rules of thedrama. They yet groped in the dark, and their beauties were yet onlyoccasional; Corneille, Racine, Molière, Crebillon, and Voltaireperfected the French drama. 

In the infancy of the tragic art in our country, the bowl and daggerwere considered as the great instruments of a sublime pathos; and the"_Die all_" and "_Die nobly_" of the exquisite and affecting tragedy ofFielding were frequently realised in our popular dramas. Thomas Goff, ofthe university of Oxford, in the reign of James I. , was considered as nocontemptible tragic poet: he concludes the first part of his CourageousTurk, by promising a second, thus:--

 If this first part, gentles! do like you well, The second part shall _greater murthers_ tell. 

Specimens of extravagant bombast might be selected from his tragedies. The following speech of Amurath the Turk, who coming on the stage, andseeing "an appearance of the heavens being on fire, comets and blazingstars, thus addresses the heavens, " which seem to have been in as mad acondition as the poet's own mind:--

 --How now, ye heavens! grow you So proud, that you must needs _put on curled locks_, And clothe yourselves in _periwigs of fire_!"

In the Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second, he is introduced with thismost raging speech:--

 Am I not emperor? he that breathes a no Damns in that negative syllable his soul; Durst any god gainsay it, he should feel The strength of fiercest giants in my armies; Mine anger's at the highest, and I could shake The firm foundation of the earthly globe; Could I but grasp the poles in these two hands I'd pluck the world asunder. He would scale heaven, and when he had ----got beyond the utmost sphere, Besiege the concave of this universe, And hunger-starve the gods till they confessed What furies did oppress his sleeping soul. 

These plays went through two editions: the last printed in 1656. 

The following passage from a similar bard is as precious. The king inthe play exclaims, --

 By all the ancient gods of Rome and Greece, I love my daughter!--better than my niece! If any one should ask the reason why, I'd tell them--Nature makes the stronger tie!

One of the rude French plays, about 1600, is entitled "_La Rebellion, ou meseontentment des Grenouilles contre Jupiter_, " in five acts. Thesubject of this tragi-comic piece is nothing more than the fable of thefrogs who asked Jupiter for a king. In the pantomimical scenes of a wildfancy, the actors were seen croaking in their fens, or climbing up thesteep ascent of Olympus; they were dressed so as to appear giganticfrogs; and in pleading their cause before Jupiter and his court, thedull humour was to croak sublimely, whenever they did not agree withtheir judge. 

Clavigero, in his curious history of Mexico, has given Acosta's accountof the Mexican theatre, which appears to resemble the first scenes amongthe Greeks, and these French frogs, but with more fancy and taste. Acosta writes, "The small theatre was curiously whitened, adorned withboughs, and arches made of flowers and feathers, from which weresuspended many birds, rabbits, and other pleasing objects. The actorsexhibited burlesque characters, feigning themselves deaf, sick withcolds, lame, blind, crippled, and addressing an idol for the return ofhealth. The deaf people answered at cross-purposes; those who had coldsby coughing, and the lame by halting; all recited their complaints andmisfortunes, which produced infinite mirth among the audience. Othersappeared under the names of different little animals; some disguised asbeetles, some like toads, some like lizards, and upon encountering each, other, reciprocally explained their employments, which was highlysatisfactory to the people, as they performed their parts with infiniteingenuity. Several little boys also, belonging to the temple, appearedin the disguise of butterflies, and birds of various colours, andmounting upon the trees which were fixed there on purpose, little ballsof earth were thrown at them with slings, occasioning many humorousincidents to the spectators. "

Something very wild and original appears in this singular exhibition;where at times the actors seem to have been spectators, and thespectators were actors. 

THE MARRIAGE OF THE ARTS. 

As a literary curiosity, can we deny a niche to that "obliquity ofdistorted wit, " of Barton Holyday, who has composed a strange comedy, infive acts, performed at Christ Church, Oxford, 1630, _not_ for the_entertainment_, as an anecdote records, of James the First?

The title of the comedy of this unclassical classic, for Holyday isknown as the translator of Juvenal with a very learned commentary, isTEXNOTAMIA, or the Marriage of the Arts, 1630, quarto; extremely dull, excessively rare, and extraordinarily high-priced among collectors. 

It may be exhibited as one of the most extravagant inventions of apedant. Who but a pedant could have conceived the dull fancy of forminga comedy, of five acts, on the subject of _marrying the Arts_! They arethe dramatis personæ of this piece, and the bachelor of arts describestheir intrigues and characters. His actors are Polites, amagistrate;--Physica;--Astronomia, daughter to Physica;--Ethicus, an oldman;--Geographus, a traveller and courtier, in love withAstronomia;--Arithmetica, in love withGeometres;--Logicus;--Grammaticus, a schoolmaster;--Poeta;--Historia, inlove with Poeta;--Rhetorica, in love with Logicus;--Melancholico, Poeta's man;--Phantastes, servant to Geographus;--Choler, Grammaticus'sman. 

All these refined and abstract ladies and gentlemen have as bodilyfeelings, and employ as gross language, as if they had been every-daycharacters. A specimen of his grotesque dulness may entertain:--

 Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit. 

Geographus opens the play with declaring his passion to Astronomia, andthat very rudely indeed! See the pedant wreathing the roses of Love!

"_Geog. _ Come, now you shall, Astronomia. 

_Ast. _ What shall I, Geographus?

_Geog. _ Kisse!

_Ast. _ What, in spite of my teeth!

_Geog. _ No, not so! I hope you do not use to kisse with your teeth. 

_Ast. _ Marry, and I hope I do not use to kisse without them. 

_Geog. _ Ay, but my fine wit-catcher, I mean you do not show your teethwhen you kisse. "

He then kisses her, as he says, in the different manners of a French, Spanish and Dutch kiss. He wants to take off the zone of Astronomia. Shebegs he would not fondle her like an elephant as he is; and Geographussays again, "Won't you then?"

_Ast. _ Won't I what?

_Geo. _ Be kinde?

_Ast. _ Be kinde! How?"

Fortunately Geographus is here interrupted by Astronomia's motherPhysica. This dialogue is a specimen of the whole piece: very flat, andvery gross. Yet the piece is still curious, --not only for its absurdity, but for that sort of ingenuity, which so whimsically contrived to bringtogether the different arts; this pedantic writer, however, owes more tothe subject, than the subject derived from him; without wit or humour, he has at times an extravagance of invention. As forinstance, --Geographus and his man Phantastes describe to Poeta the lyingwonders they pretend to have witnessed; and this is one:--

"_Phan. _ Sir, we met with a traveller that could speak six languages atthe same instant. 

_Poeta_. How? at the same instant, that's impossible!

_Phan. _ Nay, sir, the actuality of the performance puts it beyond allcontradiction. With his tongue he'd so vowel you out as smooth _Italian_as any man breathing; with his eye he would sparkle forth the proud_Spanish_; with his nose blow out most robustious _Dutch_; the creakingof his high-heeled shoe would articulate exact _Polonian_; the knockingof his shinbone feminine _French_; and his belly would grumble most pureand scholar-like _Hungary_. "

This, though extravagant without fancy, is not the worst part of theabsurd humour which runs through this pedantic comedy. 

The classical reader may perhaps be amused by the following strangeconceits. Poeta, who was in love with Historia, capriciously falls inlove with Astronomia, and thus compares his mistress:--

 Her _brow_ is like a brave _heroic_ line That does a sacred majestie inshrine; Her _nose, Phaleuciake_-like, in comely sort, Ends in a _Trochie_, or a long and short. Her _mouth_ is like a pretty _Dimeter_; Her _eie-brows_ like a little-longer _Trimeter_. Her _chinne_ is an _adonicke_, and her _tongue_ Is an _Hypermeter_, somewhat too long. Her _eies_ I may compare them unto two Quick-turning _dactyles_, for their nimble view. Her _ribs_ like staues of _Sapphicks_ doe descend Thither, which but to name were to offend. Her _arms_ like two _Iambics_ raised on hie, Doe with her brow bear equal majestie; Her _legs_ like two straight _spondees_ keep apace Slow as two _scazons_, but with stately grace. 

The piece concludes with a speech by Polites, who settles all thedisputes and loves of the Arts. Poeta promises for the future to attachhimself to Historia. Rhetorica, though she loves Logicus, yet as they donot mutually agree, she is united to Grammaticus. Polites counselsPhlegmatico, who is Logicus's man, to leave off smoking, and to learnbetter manners; and Choler, Grammaticus's man, to bridle himself;--thatEthicus and Oeconoma would vouchsafe to give good advice to Poeta andHistoria;--and Physica to her children Geographus and Astronomia! forGrammaticus and Rhetorica, he says, their tongues will always agree, andwill not fall out; and for Geometres and Arithmetica, they will be veryregular. Melancholico, who is Poeta's man, is left quite alone, andagrees to be married to Musica: and at length Phantastes, by theentreaty of Poeta, becomes the servant of Melancholico, and Musica. Physiognomus and Cheiromantes, who are in the character of gipsies andfortune-tellers, are finally exiled from the island of Fortunata, wherelies the whole scene of the action in the residence of the _MarriedArts_. 

The pedant-comic-writer has even attended to the dresses of hischaracters, which are minutely given. Thus Melancholico wears a blacksuit, a black hat, a black cloak, and black worked band, black gloves, and black shoes. Sanguis, the servant of Medicus, is in a red suit; onthe breast is a man with his nose bleeding; on the back, one lettingblood in his arm; with a red hat and band, red stockings and red pumps. 

It is recorded of this play, that the Oxford scholars resolving to giveJames I. A relish of their genius, requested leave to act this notablepiece. Honest Anthony Wood tells us, that it being too grave for theking, and too scholastic for the auditory, or, as some have said, theactors had taken too much wine, his majesty offered several times, aftertwo acts, to withdraw. He was prevailed to sit it out, in mere charityto the Oxford scholars. The following humorous epigram was produced onthe occasion:--

 At _Christ-church marriage_, done before the king, Lest that those mates should want _an offering_, The king himself _did offer_;--What, I pray? He _offered twice_ or _thrice_--to go away!"

A CONTRIVANCE IN DRAMATIC DIALOGUE. 

Crown, in his "City Politiques, " 1688, a comedy written to satirise theWhigs of those days, was accused of having copied his character tooclosely after life, and his enemies turned his comedy into a libel. Hehas defended himself in his preface from this imputation. It wasparticularly laid to his charge, that in the characters of Bartoline, anold corrupt lawyer, and his wife Lucinda, a wanton country girl, heintended to ridicule a certain Serjeant M---- and his young wife. It waseven said that the comedian mimicked the odd speech of the aforesaidSerjeant, who, having lost all his teeth, uttered his words in a verypeculiar manner. On this, Crown tells us in his defence, that thecomedian must not be blamed for this peculiarity, as it was an_invention_ of the author himself, who had taught it to the player. Heseems to have considered it as no ordinary invention, and was so pleasedwith it that he has most painfully printed the speeches of the lawyer inthis singular gibberish; and his reasons, as well as his discovery, appear remarkable. 

He says, that "Not any one old man more than another is mimiqued, by Mr. Lee's way of speaking, which all comedians can witness, was my own_invention_, and Mr. Lee was taught it by me. To prove this farther, Ihave _printed_ Bartoline's part in that manner of spelling by which Itaught it Mr. Lee. They who have no teeth cannot pronounce many lettersplain, but perpetually lisp and break their words, and some words theycannot bring out at all. As for instance _th_ is pronounced by thrustingthe tongue hard to the teeth, therefore that sound they cannot make, butsomething like it. For that reason you will often find in Bartoline'spart, instead of _th_, _ya_, as _yat_ for that; _yish_ for this; _yosh_for those; sometimes a _t_ is left out, as _housand_ for thousand;_hirty_ for thirty. _S_ they pronounce like _sh_, as _sher_ for sir;_musht_ for must; _t_ they speak like _ch_, --therefore you will find_chrue_ for true; _chreason_ for treason; _cho_ for to; _choo_ for two;_chen_ for ten; _chake_ for take. And this _ch_ is not to be pronouncedlike _k_, as 'tis in Christian, but as in child, church, chest. I desirethe reader to observe these things, because otherwise he will hardlyunderstand much of the lawyer's part, which in the opinion of all is themost divertising in the comedy; but when this ridiculous way of speakingis familiar with him, it will render the part more pleasant. "

One hardly expects so curious a piece of orthoëpy in the preface to acomedy. It may have required great observation and ingenuity to havediscovered the cause of old toothless men mumbling their words. But as apiece of comic humour, on which the author appears to have pridedhimself, the effect is far from fortunate. Humour arising from apersonal defect is but a miserable substitute for that of a more genuinekind. I shall give a specimen of this strange gibberish as it is solaboriously printed. It may amuse the reader to see his mother languagetransformed into so odd a shape that it is with difficulty he canrecognise it. 

Old Bartoline thus speaks:--"I wrong'd _my shelf, cho entcher inchobondsh_ of marriage and could not perform _covenantsh_ I might well_hinke_ you would _chake_ the forfeiture of the bond; and I never found_equichy_ in a _bedg_ in my life; but I'll trounce you _boh_; I havepaved _jaylsh_ wi' the _bonesh_ of honester people _yen_ you are, _yat_never did me nor any man any wrong, but had law of _yeir shydsh_ andright o' _yeir shydsh_, but because _yey_ had not me o' _yeir shydsh_. Iha' _hrown_ 'em in _jaylsh_, and got _yeir eshchatsch_ for my _clyentshyat_ had no more _chytle_ to 'em _yen dogsh_. "

THE COMEDY OF A MADMAN. 

Desmarets, the friend of Richelieu, was a very extraordinary character, and produced many effusions of genius in early life, till he became amystical fanatic. It was said of him that "he was the greatest madmanamong poets, and the best poet among madmen. " His comedy of "TheVisionaries" is one of the most extraordinary dramatic projects, and, inrespect to its genius and its lunacy, may be considered as a literarycuriosity. 

In this singular comedy all Bedlam seems to be let loose on the stage, and every character has a high claim to an apartment in it. It is indeedsuspected that the cardinal had a hand in this anomalous drama, and inspite of its extravagance it was favourably received by the public, whocertainly had never seen anything like it. 

Every character in this piece acts under some hallucination of the mind, or a fit of madness. Artabaze is a cowardly hero, who believes he hasconquered the world. Amidor is a wild poet, who imagines he ranks aboveHomer. Filidan is a lover, who becomes inflammable as gunpowder forevery mistress he reads of in romances. Phalante is a beggarly bankrupt, who thinks himself as rich as Croesus. Melisse, in reading the "Historyof Alexander, " has become madly in love with this hero, and will have noother husband than "him of Macedon. " Hesperie imagines her fatal charmsoccasion a hundred disappointments in the world, but prides herself onher perfect insensibility. Sestiane, who knows no other happiness thancomedies, and whatever she sees or hears, immediately plans a scene fordramatic effect, renounces any other occupation; and finally, Alcidon, the father of these three mad girls, as imbecile as his daughters arewild. So much for the amiable characters!

The plot is in perfect harmony with the genius of the author, and thecharacters he has invented--perfectly unconnected, and fancifully wild. Alcidon resolves to marry his three daughters, who, however, have nosuch project of their own. He offers them to the first who comes. Heaccepts for his son-in-law the first who offers, and is clearlyconvinced that he is within a very short period of accomplishing hiswishes. As the four ridiculous personages whom we have noticedfrequently haunt his house, he becomes embarrassed in finding one lovertoo many, having only three daughters. 

The catastrophe relieves the old gentleman from his embarrassments. Melisse, faithful to her Macedonian hero, declares her resolution ofdying before she marries any meaner personage. Hesperie refuses tomarry, out of pity for mankind; for to make one man happy she thinks shemust plunge a hundred into despair. Sestiane, only passionate forcomedy, cannot consent to any marriage, and tells her father, in verylively verses, Je ne veux point, mon père, espouser un censeur; Puisque vous me souffrez recevoir la douceur Des plaisirs innocens que le théâtre apporte, Prendrais-je le hasard de vivre d'autre sorte? Puis on a des enfans, qui vous sont sur les bras, Les mener an théâtre, O Dieux! quel embarras! Tantôt couche ou grossesse, on quelque maladie; Pour jamais vous font dire, adieu la comédie!

 IMITATED. 

 No, no, my father, I will have no critic, (Miscalled a husband) since you still permit The innocent sweet pleasures of the stage; And shall I venture to exchange my lot? Then we have children folded in our arms To bring them to the play-house; heavens! what troubles! Then we lie in, are big, or sick, or vexed: These make us bid farewell to comedy!

At length these imagined sons-in-law appear; Filidan declares that inthese three girls he cannot find the mistress he adores. Amidorconfesses he only asked for one of his daughters out of pure gallantry, and that he is only a lover--in verse! When Phalante is questioned afterthe great fortunes he hinted at, the father discovers that he has not astiver, and out of credit to borrow: while Artabaze declares that heonly allowed Alcidon, out of mere benevolence, to flatter himself for amoment with the hope of an honour that even Jupiter would not dare topretend to. The four lovers disperse and leave the old gentleman moreembarrassed than ever, and his daughters perfectly enchanted to enjoytheir whimsical reveries, and die old maids--all alike "Visionaries!"

SOLITUDE. 

We possess, among our own native treasures, two treatises on thissubject, composed with no ordinary talent, and not their least valueconsists in one being an apology for solitude, while the other combatsthat prevailing passion of the studious. Zimmerman's popular work isoverloaded with commonplace; the garrulity of eloquence. The twotreatises now noticed may be compared to the highly-finished gems, whosefigure may be more finely designed, and whose strokes may be moredelicate in the smaller space they occupy than the ponderous block ofmarble hewed out by the German chiseller. 

Sir George Mackenzie, a polite writer, and a most eloquent pleader, published, in 1665, a moral essay, preferring Solitude to publicemployment. The eloquence of his style was well suited to the dignity ofhis subject; the advocates for solitude have always prevailed over thosefor active life, because there is something sublime in those feelingswhich would retire from the circle of indolent triflers, or depravedgeniuses. The tract of Mackenzie was ingeniously answered by the eleganttaste of John Evelyn in 1667. Mackenzie, though he wrote in favour ofsolitude, passed a very active life, first as a pleader, and afterwardsas a judge; that he was an eloquent writer, and an eloquent critic, wehave the authority of Dryden, who says, that till he was acquainted withthat noble wit of Scotland, Sir George Mackenzie, he had not known thebeautiful turn of words and thoughts in poetry, which Sir George hadexplained and exemplified to him in conversation. As a judge, and king'sadvocate, will not the barbarous customs of the age defend his name? Heis most hideously painted forth by the dark pencil of a poeticalSpagnoletti (Grahame), in his poem on "The Birds of Scotland. " SirGeorge lived in the age of rebellion, and used torture: we must entirelyput aside his political, to attend to his literary character. Blair hasquoted his pleadings as a model of eloquence, and Grahame is unjust tothe fame of Mackenzie, when he alludes to his "half-forgotten name. " In1689, he retired to Oxford, to indulge the luxuries of study in theBodleian Library, and to practise that solitude which so delighted himin theory; but three years afterwards he fixed himself in London. Evelyn, who wrote in favour of public employment being preferable tosolitude, passed his days in the tranquillity of his studies, and wroteagainst the habits which he himself most loved. By this it may appear, that that of which we have the least experience ourselves, will ever bewhat appears most delightful! Alas! everything in life seems to have init the nature of a bubble of air, and, when touched, we find nothing butemptiness in our hand. It is certain that the most eloquent writers infavour of solitude have left behind them too many memorials of theirunhappy feelings, when they indulged this passion to excess; and someancient has justly said, that none but a god, or a savage, can sufferthis exile from human nature. 

The following extracts from Sir George Mackenzie's tract on Solitude areeloquent and impressive, and merit to be rescued from that oblivionwhich surrounds many writers, whose genius has not been effaced, butconcealed, by the transient crowd of their posterity:--

 I have admired to see persons of virtue and humour long much to be in the city, where, when they come they found nor sought for no other divertissement than to visit one another; and there to do nothing else than to make legs, view others habit, talk of the weather, or some such pitiful subject, and it may be, if they made a farther inroad upon any other affair, they did so pick one another, that it afforded them matter of eternal quarrel; for what was at first but an indifferent subject, is by interest adopted into the number of our quarrels. --What pleasure can be received by talking of new fashions, buying and selling of lands, advancement or ruin of favourites, victories or defeats of strange princes, which is the ordinary subject of ordinary conversation?--Most desire to frequent their superiors, and these men must either suffer their raillery, or must not be suffered to continue in their society; if we converse with them who speak with more address than ourselves, then we repine equally at our own dulness, and envy the acuteness that accomplishes the speaker; or, if we converse with duller animals than ourselves, then we are weary to draw the yoke alone, and fret at our being in ill company; but if chance blows us in amongst our equals, then we are so at guard to catch all advantages, and so interested in point d'honneur, that it rather cruciates than recreates us. How many make themselves cheap by these occasions, whom we had valued highly if they had frequented us less! And how many frequent persons who laugh at that simplicity which the addresser admires in himself as wit, and yet both recreate themselves with double laughters!

 In solitude, he addresses his friend:--"My dear Celador, enter into your own breast, and there survey the several operations of your own soul, the progress of your passions, the strugglings of your appetite, the wanderings of your fancy, and ye will find, I assure you, more variety in that one piece than there is to be learned in all the courts of Christendom. Represent to yourself the last age, all the actions and interests in it, how much this person was infatuated with zeal, that person with lust; how much one pursued honour, and another riches; and in the next thought draw that scene, and represent them all turned to dust and ashes!"

I cannot close this subject without the addition of some anecdotes, which may be useful. A man of letters finds solitude necessary, and forhim solitude has its pleasures and its conveniences; but we shall findthat it also has a hundred things to be dreaded. 

Solitude is indispensable for literary pursuits. No considerable workhas yet been composed, but its author, like an ancient magician, retiredfirst to the grove or the closet, to invocate his spirits. Everyproduction of genius must be the production of enthusiasm. When theyouth sighs and languishes, and feels himself among crowds in an irksomesolitude, --that is the moment to fly into seclusion and meditation. Where can he indulge but in solitude the fine romances of his soul?where but in solitude can he occupy himself in useful dreams by night, and, when the morning rises, fly without interruption to his unfinishedlabours? Retirement to the frivolous is a vast desert, to the man ofgenius it is the enchanted garden of Armida. 

Cicero was uneasy amidst applauding Rome, and he has designated hisnumerous works by the titles of his various villas, where they werecomposed. Voltaire had talents, and a taste for society, yet he not onlywithdrew by intervals, but at one period of his life passed five yearsin the most secret seclusion and fervent studies. Montesquieu quittedthe brilliant circles of Paris for his books, his meditations, and forhis immortal work, and was ridiculed by the gay triflers herelinquished. Harrington, to compose his Oceana, severed himself fromthe society of his friends, and was so wrapped in abstraction, that hewas pitied as a lunatic. Descartes, inflamed by genius, abruptly breaksoff all his friendly connexions, hires an obscure house in anunfrequented corner at Paris, and applies himself to study during twoyears unknown to his acquaintance. Adam Smith, after the publication ofhis first work, throws himself into a retirement that lasted ten years;even Hume rallied him for separating himself from the world; but thegreat political inquirer satisfied the world, and his friends, by hisgreat work on the Wealth of Nations. 

But this solitude, at first a necessity, and then a pleasure, at lengthis not borne without repining. I will call for a witness a great genius, and he shall speak himself. Gibbon says, "I feel, and shall continue tofeel, that domestic solitude, however it may be alleviated by the world, by study, and even by friendship, is a comfortless state, which willgrow more painful as I descend in the vale of years. " And afterwards hewrites to a friend, "Your visit has only served to remind me that man, however amused and occupied in his closet, was not made to live alone. "

I must therefore now sketch a different picture of literary solitudethan some sanguine and youthful minds conceive. 

Even the sublimest of men, Milton, who is not apt to vent complaints, appears to have felt this irksome period of life. In the preface toSmectymnuus, he says, "It is but justice, not to defraud of due esteemthe _wearisome labours_ and _studious watchings, _ wherein I have spentand _tired_ out almost a whole youth. "

Solitude in a later period of life, or rather the neglect which awaitsthe solitary man, is felt with acuter sensibility. Cowley, thatenthusiast for rural seclusion, in his retirement calls himself "Themelancholy Cowley. " Mason has truly transferred the same epithet toGray. Bead in his letters the history of solitude. We lament the loss ofCowley's correspondence, through the mistaken notion of Sprat; heassuredly had painted the sorrows of his heart. But Shenstone has filledhis pages with the cries of an amiable being whose soul bleeds in thedead oblivion of solitude. Listen to his melancholy expressions:--"Now Iam come from a visit, every little uneasiness is sufficient tointroduce my whole train of melancholy considerations, and to make meutterly dissatisfied with the life I now lead, and the life I foresee Ishall lead. I am angry, and envious, and dejected, and frantic, anddisregard all present things, as becomes a madman to do. I am infinitelypleased (though it is a gloomy joy) with the application of Dr. Swift'scomplaint, that he is forced to die in a rage, like a poisoned rat in ahole. " Let the lover of solitude muse on its picture throughout theyear, in the following stanza by the same poet:--

 Tedious again to curse the drizzling day, Again to trace the wintry tracks of snow! Or, soothed by vernal airs, again survey The self-same hawthorns bud, and cowslips blow!

Swift's letters paint in terrifying colours a picture of solitude, andat length his despair closed with idiotism. The amiable Gresset couldnot sport with the brilliant wings of his butterfly muse, withoutdropping some querulous expression on the solitude of genius. In his"Epistle to his Muse, " he exquisitely paints the situation of men ofgenius:

 ----Je les vois, victimes du génie, Au foible prix d'un éclat passager, Vivre isolés, sans jouir de la vie!

And afterwards he adds, Vingt ans d'ennuis, pour quelques jours de gloire!

I conclude with one more anecdote on solitude, which may amuse. WhenMenage, attacked by some, and abandoned by others, was seized by a fitof the spleen, he retreated into the country, and gave up his famousMercuriales; those Wednesdays when the literati assembled at his house, to praise up or cry down one another, as is usual with the literarypopulace. Menage expected to find that tranquillity in the country whichhe had frequently described in his verses; but as he was only a poeticalplagiarist, it is not strange that our pastoral writer was greatlydisappointed. Some country rogues having killed his pigeons, they gavehim more vexation than his critics. He hastened his return to Paris. "Itis better, " he observed, "since we are born to suffer, to feel onlyreasonable sorrows. "

LITERARY FRIENDSHIPS. 

The memorable friendship of Beaumont and Fletcher so closely unitedtheir labours, that we cannot discover the productions of either; andbiographers cannot, without difficulty, compose the memoirs of the one, without running into the life of the other. They pourtrayed the samecharacters, while they mingled sentiment with sentiment; and their dayswere as closely interwoven as their verses. Metastasio and Farinelliwere born about the same time, and early acquainted. They called oneanother _Gemello_, or The Twin, both the delight of Europe, both livedto an advanced age, and died nearly at the same time. Their fortunebore, too, a resemblance; for they were both pensioned, but lived anddied separated in the distant courts of Vienna and Madrid. Montaigne andCharron were rivals, but always friends; such was Montaigne's affectionfor Charron, that he permitted him by his will to bear the full arms ofhis family; and Charron evinced his gratitude to the manes of hisdeparted friend, by leaving his fortune to the sister of Montaigne, whohad married. Forty years of friendship, uninterrupted by rivalry orenvy, crowned the lives of Poggius and Leonard Aretin, two of theillustrious revivers of letters. A singular custom formerly prevailedamong our own writers, which was an affectionate tribute to our literaryveterans by young writers. The former adopted the latter by the title ofsons. Ben Jonson had twelve of these poetical sons. Walton the angleradopted Cotton, the translator of Montaigne. 

Among the most fascinating effusions of genius are those little pieceswhich it consecrates to the cause of friendship. In that poem of Cowley, composed on the death of his friend Harvey, the following stanzapresents a pleasing picture of the employments of two young students:--

 Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights, How oft unwearied have we spent the nights! Till the Ledæan stars, so famed for love, Wondered at us from above. We spent them not in toys, in lust, or wine, But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence, and poetry, Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine. 

Milton has not only given the exquisite Lycidas to the memory of ayoung friend, but in his _Epitaphium Damonis_, to that of Deodatus, haspoured forth some interesting sentiments. It has been versified byLanghorne. Now, says the poet, To whom shall I my hopes and fears impart, Or trust the cares and follies of my heart?

The elegy of Tickell, maliciously called by Steele "prose in rhyme, " isalike inspired by affection and fancy; it has a melodious languor, and amelancholy grace. The sonnet of Gray to the memory of West is abeautiful effusion, and a model for English sonnets. Helvetius was theprotector of men of genius, whom he assisted not only with hiscriticism, but his fortune. At his death, Saurin read in the FrenchAcademy an epistle to the manes of his friend. Saurin, wrestling withobscurity and poverty, had been drawn into literary existence by thesupporting hand of Helvetius. Our poet thus addresses him in the warmtones of gratitude:

 C'est toi qui me cherchant au sein de l'infortune, Relevas mon sort abattu, Et sus me rendre chère une vie importune. 

 * * * *

 Qu'importent ces pleurs-- O douleur impuissante! ô regrets superflus! Je vis, helas! Je vis, et mon ami n'est plus!

 IMITATED. 

 In misery's haunts, thy friend thy bounties seize, And give an urgent life some days of ease; Ah! ye vain griefs, superfluous tears I chide! I live, alas! I live--and thou hast died!

The literary friendship of a father with his son is one of the rarestalliances in the republic of letters. It was gratifying to the feelingsof young Gibbon, in the fervour of literary ambition, to dedicate hisfirst-fruits to his father. The too lively son of Crebillon, though hiswas a very different genius to the grandeur of his father's, yetdedicated his works to him, and for a moment put aside his wit andraillery for the pathetic expressions of filial veneration. We have hada remarkable instance in the two Richardsons; and the father, in hisoriginal manner, has in the most glowing language expressed hisaffectionate sentiments. He says, "My time of learning was employed inbusiness; but after all, I have the Greek and Latin tongues, because apart of me possesses them, to whom I can recur at pleasure, just as Ihave a hand when I would write or paint, feet to walk, and eyes to see. My son is my learning, as I am that to him which he has not. --We makeone man, and such a compound man may probably produce what no single mancan. " And further, "I always think it my peculiar happiness to be as itwere enlarged, expanded, made another man, by the acquisition of my son;and he thinks in the same manner concerning my union with him. " This isas curious as it is uncommon; however the cynic may call it egotism!

Some for their friend have died penetrated with inconsolable grief; somehave sacrificed their character to preserve his own; some have sharedtheir limited fortune; and some have remained attached to their friendin the cold season of adversity. 

Jurieu denounced Bayle as an impious writer, and drew his conclusionsfrom the "Avis aux Réfugiés. " This work is written against theCalvinists, and therefore becomes impious in Holland. Bayle might haveexculpated himself with facility, by declaring the work was composed byLa Roque; but he preferred to be persecuted rather than to ruin hisfriend; he therefore was silent, and was condemned. When the ministerFouquet was abandoned by all, it was the men of letters he hadpatronised who never forsook his prison; and many have dedicated theirworks to great men in their adversity, whom they scorned to notice atthe time when they were noticed by all. The learned Goguet bequeathedhis MSS. And library to his friend Fugere, with whom he had united hisaffections and his studies. His work on the "Origin of the Arts andSciences" had been much indebted to his aid. Fugere, who knew his friendto be past recovery, preserved a mute despair, during the slow andpainful disease; and on the death of Goguet, the victim of sensibilityperished amidst the manuscripts which his friend had in vain bequeathedto prepare for publication. The Abbé de Saint Pierre gave an interestingproof of literary friendship. When he was at college he formed a unionwith Varignon, the geometrician. They were of congenial dispositions. When he went to Paris he invited Varignon to accompany him; but Varignonhad nothing, and the Abbé was far from rich. A certain income wasnecessary for the tranquil pursuits of geometry. Our Abbé had an incomeof 1800 livres; from this he deducted 300, which he gave to thegeometrician, accompanied by a delicacy which few but a man of geniuscould conceive. "I do not give it to you, " he said, "as a salary, but anannuity, that you may be independent, and quit me when you dislike me. "Something nearly similar embellishes our own literary history. WhenAkenside was in great danger of experiencing famine as well as fame, Mr. Dyson allowed him three hundred pounds a year. Of this gentleman, perhaps, nothing is known; yet whatever his life may be, it merits thetribute of the biographer. To close with these honourable testimonies ofliterary friendship, we must not omit that of Churchill and Lloyd. It isknown that when Lloyd heard of the death of our poet, he acted the partwhich Fugere did to Goguet. The page is crowded, but my facts are by nomeans exhausted. 

The most illustrious of the ancients prefixed the name of some friend tothe head of their works. --We too often place that of some patron. Theyhonourably inserted it in their works. When a man of genius, however, shows that he is not less mindful of his social affection than his fame, he is the more loved by his reader. Plato communicated a ray of hisglory to his brothers; for in his Republic he ascribes some parts toAdimanthus and Glauchon; and Antiphon the youngest is made to deliverhis sentiments in the Parmenides, To perpetuate the fondness offriendship, several authors have entitled their works by the name ofsome cherished associate. Cicero to his Treatise on Orators gave thetitle of Brutus; to that of Friendship, Lelius; and to that of Old Age, Cato. They have been imitated by the moderns. The poetical Tasso to hisdialogue on Friendship gave the name of Manso, who was afterwards hisaffectionate biographer. Sepulvueda entitles his Treatise on Glory bythe name of his friend Gonsalves. Lociel to his Dialogues on the Lawyersof Paris prefixes the name of the learned Pasquier. Thus Platodistinguishes his Dialogues by the names of certain persons; the one onLying is entitled Hippius; on Rhetoric, Gorgias; and on Beauty, Phædrus. 

Luther has perhaps carried this feeling to an extravagant point. He wasso delighted by his favourite "Commentary on the Epistle to theGalatians, " that he distinguished it by a title of doting fondness; henamed it after his wife, and called it "His Catherine. "

ANECDOTES OF ABSTRACTION OF MIND. 

Some have exercised this power of abstraction to a degree that appearsmarvellous to volatile spirits, and puny thinkers. 

To this patient habit, Newton is indebted for many of his greatdiscoveries; an apple falls upon him in his orchard, --and the system ofattraction succeeds in his mind! he observes boys blowing soap bubbles, and the properties of light display themselves! Of Socrates, it is said, that he would frequently remain an entire day and night in the sameattitude, absorbed in meditation; and why should we doubt this, when weknow that La Fontaine and Thomson, Descartes and Newton, experienced thesame abstraction? Mercator, the celebrated geographer, found suchdelight in the ceaseless progression of his studies, that he would neverwillingly quit his maps to take the necessary refreshments of life. InCicero's Treatise on Old Age, Cato applauds Gallus, who, when he satdown to write in the morning, was surprised by the evening; and when hetook up his pen in the evening was surprised by the appearance of themorning. Buffon once described these delicious moments with hisaccustomed eloquence:--"Invention depends on patience; contemplate yoursubject long; it will gradually unfold, till a sort of electric sparkconvulses for a moment the brain, and spreads down to the very heart aglow of irritation. Then come the luxuries of genius! the true hours forproduction and composition; hours so delightful, that I have spenttwelve and fourteen successively at my writing-desk, and still been in astate of pleasure. " The anecdote related of Marini, the Italian poet, may be true. Once absorbed in revising his Adonis, he suffered his legto be burnt for some time, without any sensation. 

Abstraction of this sublime kind is the first step to that nobleenthusiasm which accompanies Genius; it produces those raptures and thatintense delight, which some curious facts will explain to us. 

Poggius relates of Dante, that he indulged his meditations more stronglythan any man he knew! whenever he read, he was only alive to what waspassing in his mind; to all human concerns, he was as if they had notbeen! Dante went one day to a great public procession; he entered theshop of a bookseller to be a spectator of the passing show. He found abook which greatly interested him; he devoured it in silence, andplunged into an abyss of thought. On his return he declared that he hadneither seen, nor heard, the slightest occurrence of the publicexhibition which had passed before him. This enthusiasm renderseverything surrounding us as distant as if an immense interval separatedus from the scene. A modern astronomer, one summer night, withdrew tohis chamber; the brightness of the heaven showed a phenomenon. He passedthe whole night in observing it, and when they came to him early in themorning, and found him in the same attitude, he said, like one who hadbeen recollecting his thoughts for a few moments, "It must be thus; butI'll go to bed before 'tis late!" He had gazed the entire night inmeditation, and did not know it. 

This intense abstraction operates visibly; this perturbation of thefaculties, as might be supposed, affects persons of genius physically. What a forcible description the late Madame Roland, who certainly was awoman of the first genius, gives of herself on her first reading ofTelemachus and Tasso. "My respiration rose; I felt a rapid firecolouring my face, and my voice changing, had betrayed my agitation; Iwas Eucharis for Telemachus, and Erminia for Tancred; however, duringthis perfect transformation, I did not yet think that I myself was anything, for any one. The whole had no connexion with myself, I sought fornothing around me; I was them, I saw only the objects which existed forthem; it was a dream, without being awakened. "--Metastasio describes asimilar situation. "When I apply with a little attention, the nerves ofmy sensorium are put into a violent tumult. I grow as red in the face asa drunkard, and am obliged to quit my work. " When Malebranche first tookup Descartes on Man, the germ and origin of his philosophy, he wasobliged frequently to interrupt his reading by a violent palpitation ofthe heart. When the first idea of the Essay on the Arts and Sciencesrushed on the mind of Rousseau, it occasioned such a feverish agitationthat it approached to a delirium. 

This delicious inebriation of the imagination occasioned the ancients, who sometimes perceived the effects, to believe it was not short ofdivine inspiration. Fielding says, "I do not doubt but that the mostpathetic and affecting scenes have been writ with tears. " He perhapswould have been pleased to have confirmed his observation by thefollowing circumstances. The tremors of Dryden, after having written anOde, a circumstance tradition has accidentally handed down, were notunusual with him; in the preface to his Tales he tells us, that intranslating Homer he found greater pleasure than in Virgil; but it wasnot a pleasure without pain; the _continual agitation of the spirits_must needs be a weakener to any constitution, especially in age, andmany pauses are required for refreshment betwixt the heats. In writingthe ninth scene of the second act of the Olimpiade, Metastasio foundhimself in tears; an effect which afterwards, says Dr. Burney, provedvery contagious. It was on this occasion that that tender poetcommemorated the circumstance in the following interesting sonnet:--

 SONNET FROM METASTASIO. "_Scrivendo l'Autore in Vienna l'anno 1733 la sua Olimpiade si senti commosa fino alle lagrime nell' esprimere la divisione di due teneri amici: e meravigliandosi che un falso, e da lui inventato disastro, potesse cagionargli una si vera passione, si fece a riflettere quanto poco ragionevole e solido fondamento possano aver le altre che soglion frequentamente agitarci, nel corso di nostra vita_. 

 Sogni e favole io fingo, e pure in carte Mentre favole, e sogni, orno e disegno, In lor, (folle ch' io son!) prendo tal parte Che del mal che inventai piango, e mi sdegno. Ma forse allor che non m' inganna l'arte, Più saggio io sono e l'agitato ingegno Forse allo più tranquillo? O forse parte Da più salda cagion l'amor, lo sdegno? Ah che non sol quelle, ch'io canto, o scrivo Favole son; ma quanto temo, o spero, Tutt' è manzogna, e delirando io vivo! Sogno della mia vita è il corso intero. Deh tu, Signor, quando a destarmi arrivo Fa, ch'io trovi riposo in sen del VERO. 

 _In 1733, the Author, composing his Olimpiade, felt himself suddenly moved, even to tears, in expressing the separation of two tender lovers. Surprised that a fictitious grief, invented too by himself, could raise so true a passion, he reflected how little reasonable and solid a foundation the others had, which, so frequently agitated us in this state of our existence. _

 SONNET--IMITATED. 

 Fables and dreams I feign; yet though but verse The dreams and fables that adorn this scroll, Fond fool! I rave, and grieve as I rehearse; While GENUINE TEARS for FANCIED SORROWS roll. Perhaps the dear delusion of my heart Is wisdom; and the agitated mind, As still responding to each plaintive part, With love and rage, a tranquil hour can find. Ah! not alone the tender RHYMES I give Are fictions: but my FEARS and HOPES I deem Are FABLES all; deliriously I live, And life's whole course is one protracted dream. Eternal Power! when shall I wake to rest This wearied brain on TRUTH'S immortal breast?

RICHARDSON. 

The censure which the Shakspeare of novelists has incurred for thetedious procrastination and the minute details of his fable; his slowunfolding characters, and the slightest gestures of his personages, isextremely unjust; for is it not evident that we could not have hispeculiar excellences without these accompanying defects? When charactersare fully delineated, the narrative must be suspended. Whenever thenarrative is rapid, which so much delights superficial readers, thecharacters cannot be very minutely featured; and the writer who aims toinstruct (as Richardson avowedly did) by the glow and eloquence of hisfeelings, must often sacrifice to this his local descriptions. Richardson himself has given us the principle that guided him incomposing. He tells us, "If I give speeches and conversations, I oughtto give them justly; for the _humours_ and _characters_ of personscannot be known unless I _repeat_ what they say, and their _manner_ ofsaying. "

Foreign critics have been more just to Richardson than many of his owncountrymen. I shall notice the opinions of three celebrated writers, D'Alembert, Rousseau, and Diderot. 

D'Alembert was a great mathematician. His literary taste was extremelycold: he was not worthy of reading Richardson. The volumes, if he everread them, must have fallen from his hands. The delicate and subtleturnings, those folds of the human heart, which require so nice a touch, was a problem which the mathematician could never solve. There is noother demonstration in the human heart, but an appeal to its feelings:and what are the calculating feelings of an arithmetician of lines andcurves? He therefore declared of Richardson that "La Nature est bonne �imiter, mais non pas jusqu'à l'ennui. "

But thus it was not with the other two congenial geniuses! The ferventopinion of Rousseau must be familiar to the reader; but Diderot, in hiséloge on Richardson, exceeds even Rousseau in the enthusiasm of hisfeelings. I extract some of the most interesting passages. Of Clarissahe says, "I yet remember with delight the first time it came into myhands. I was in the country. How deliciously was I affected! At everymoment I saw my happiness abridged by a page. I then experienced thesame sensations those feel who have long lived with one they love, andare on the point of separation. At the close of the work I seemed toremain deserted. "

The impassioned Diderot then breaks forth:--"Oh, Richardson! thousingular genius in my eyes! thou shalt form my reading in all times. Ifforced by sharp necessity, my friend falls into indigence; if themediocrity of my fortune is not sufficient to bestow on my children thenecessary cares for their education, I will sell my books, --but thoushalt remain! yes, thou shalt rest in the _same class_ with MOSES, HOMER, EURIPIDES, and SOPHOCLES, to be read alternately. 

"Oh Richardson, I dare pronounce that the most veritable history is fullof fictions, and thy romances are full of truths. History paints someindividuals; thou paintest the human species. History attributes to someindividuals what they have neither said nor done; all that thouattributest to man he has said and done. History embraces but a portionof duration, a point on the surface of the globe; thou hast embraced allplaces and all times. The human heart, which has ever been and evershall be the same, is the model which thou copiest. If we were severelyto criticise the best historian, would he maintain his ground as thou?In this point of view, I venture to say, that frequently history is amiserable romance; and romance, as thou hast composed it, is a goodhistory. Painter of nature, thou never liest!

"I have never yet met with a person who shared my enthusiasm, that I wasnot tempted to embrace, and to press him in my arms!

"Richardson is no more! His loss touches me, as if my brother was nomore. I bore him in my heart without having seen him, and knowing himbut by his works. He has not had all the reputation he merited. Richardson! if living thy merit has been disputed; how great wilt thouappear to our children's children, when we shall view thee at thedistance we now view Homer! Then who will dare to steal a line from thysublime works! Thou hast had more admirers amongst us than in thine owncountry, and at this I rejoice!"

It is probable that to a Frenchman the _style_ of Richardson is not soobjectionable when translated, as to ourselves. I think myself that itis very idiomatic and energetic; others have thought differently. Themisfortune of Richardson was, that he was unskilful in the art ofwriting, and that he could never lay the pen down while his inkhornsupplied it. 

He was delighted by his own works. No author enjoyed so much the blissof excessive fondness. I heard from the late Charlotte Lenox theanecdote which so severely reprimanded his innocent vanity, whichBoswell has recorded. This lady was a regular visitor at Richardson'shouse, and she could scarcely recollect one visit which was not taxed byour author reading one of his voluminous letters, or two or three, ifhis auditor was quiet and friendly. 

The extreme delight which he felt on a review of his own works the worksthemselves witness. Each is an evidence of what some will deem a violentliterary vanity. To _Pamela_ is prefixed a _letter_ from the _editor_(whom we know to be the _author_), consisting of one of the mostminutely laboured panegyrics of the work itself, that ever the blindestidolater of some ancient classic paid to the object of his freneticimagination. In several places there, he contrives to repeat thestriking parts of the narrative which display the fertility of hisimagination to great advantage. To the author's own edition of his_Clarissa_ is appended an _alphabetical arrangement_ of the sentimentsdispersed throughout the work; and such was the fondness that dictatedthis voluminous arrangement, that such trivial aphorisms as, "habits arenot easily changed, " "men are known by their companions, " &c. , seemalike to be the object of their author's admiration. This collection ofsentiments, said indeed to have been sent to him anonymously, is curiousand useful, and shows the value of the work, by the extensive grasp ofthat mind which could think so justly on such numerous topics. And inhis third and final labour, to each volume of _Sir Charles Grandison_ isnot only prefixed a complete _index_, with as much exactness as if itwere a History of England, but there is also appended a _list_ of the_similes_ and allusions in the volume; some of which do not exceed_three_ or _four_ in nearly as many hundred pages. 

Literary history does not record a more singular example of thatself-delight which an author has felt on a revision of his works. It wasthis intense pleasure which produced his voluminous labours. It must beconfessed there are readers deficient in that sort of genius which makesthe mind of Richardson so fertile and prodigal. 

INFLUENCE OF A NAME. 

 What's in a NAME? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet. 

Names, by an involuntary suggestion, produce an extraordinary illusion. Favour or disappointment has been often conceded as the _name_ of theclaimant has affected us; and the accidental affinity or coincidence ofa _name_, connected with ridicule or hatred, with pleasure or disgust, has operated like magic. But the facts connected with this subject willshow how this prejudice has branched out. [20]

Sterne has touched on this unreasonable propensity of judging by_names_, in his humorous account of the elder Mr. Shandy's system ofChristian names. And Wilkes has expressed, in Boswell's Life of Johnson, all the influence of baptismal _names_, even in matters of poetry! Hesaid, "The last city poet was _Elkanah_ Settle. There is _something_ in_names_ which one cannot help feeling. Now _Elkanah_ Settle sounds soqueer, who can expect much from _that name_? We should have nohesitation to give it for _John Dryden_ in preference to _ElkanahSettle_, from the _names only_, without knowing their different merits. "

A lively critic noticing some American poets, says "There is or was aMr. Dwight who wrote a poem in the shape of an epic; and his baptismalname was _Timothy_;" and involuntarily we infer the sort of epic that a_Timothy_ must write. Sterne humorously exhorts all godfathers not "toNicodemus a man into nothing. "

There is more truth in this observation than some may be inclined toallow; and that it affects mankind strongly, all ages and all climatesmay be called on to testify. Even in the barbarous age of Louis XI. , they felt a delicacy respecting _names_, which produced an ordinancefrom his majesty. The king's barber was named _Olivier le Diable_. Atfirst the king allowed him to got rid of the offensive part by changingit to _Le Malin_; but the improvement was not happy, and for a thirdtime he was called _Le Mauvais_. Even this did not answer his purpose;and as he was a great racer, he finally had his majesty's ordinance tobe called _Le Dain_, under penalty of law if any one should call him _LeDiable_, _Le Malin_, or _Le Mauvais_. According to Platina, Sergius theSecond was the first pope who changed his name in ascending the papalthrone; because his proper name was _Hog's-mouth_, very unsuitable withthe pomp of the tiara. The ancients felt the same fastidiousness; andamong the Romans, those who were called to the equestrian order, havinglow and vulgar _names_, were new named on the occasion, lest the formerone should disgrace the dignity. [21]

When _Burlier_, a French wit, was chosen for the preceptor of Colbert'sson, he felt his _name_ was so uncongenial to his new profession, thathe assumed the more splendid one of _D'Aucour_, by which he is nowknown. Madame _Gomez_ had married a person named _Bonhomme_; but shewould never exchange her nobler Spanish name to prefix her married oneto her romances, which indicated too much of meek humility. _Guez_ (abeggar) is a French writer of great pomp of style; but he felt suchextreme delicacy at so low a name, that to give some authority to thesplendour of his diction, he assumed the name of his estate, and is wellknown as _Balzac_. A French poet of the name of Theophile _Viaut_, finding that his surname pronounced like _veau_ (calf), exposed him tothe infinite jests of the minor wits, silently dropped it, by retainingthe more poetical appellation of _Theophile_. Various literary artificeshave been employed by some who, still preserving a natural attachment tothe names of their fathers, yet blushing at the same time for theirmeanness, have in their Latin works attempted to obviate the ridiculewhich they provoked. One _Gaucher_ (left-handed) borrowed the name of_Scevola_, because Scevola, having burnt his right arm, becameconsequently left-handed. Thus also one _De la Borgne_ (one-eyed) calledhimself _Strabo_; _De Charpentier_ took that of _Fabricius_; _De Valet_translated his _Servilius_; and an unlucky gentleman, who bore the nameof _Du bout d'Homme, _ boldly assumed that of _Virulus_. Dorat, a Frenchpoet, had for his real name _Disnemandi_, which, in the dialect of theLimousins, signifies one who dines in the morning; that is, who has noother dinner than his breakfast. This degrading name he changed to_Dorat_, or gilded, a nickname which one of his ancestors had borne forhis fair tresses. But by changing his _name_, his feelings were notentirely quieted, for unfortunately his daughter cherished an invinciblepassion for a learned man, who unluckily was named _Goulu_; that is, ashark, as gluttonous as a shark. Miss _Disnemandi_ felt naturally astrong attraction for a _goulu_; and in spite of her father'sremonstrances, she once more renewed his sorrows in this alliance!

There are unfortunate names, which are very injurious to the cause inwhich they are engaged; for instance, the Long Parliament in Cromwell'stime, called by derision the _Rump_, was headed by one _Barebones_, aleather-seller. It was afterwards called by his unlucky name, whichserved to heighten the ridicule cast over it by the nation. 

Formerly a custom prevailed with learned men to change their names. Theyshowed at once their contempt for vulgar denominations and theiringenious erudition. They christened themselves with Latin and Greek. This disguising of names came, at length, to be considered to have apolitical tendency, and so much alarmed Pope Paul the Second, that heimprisoned several persons for their using certain affected names, andsome, indeed, which they could not give a reason why they assumed. _Desiderius Erasmus_ was a name formed out of his family name _Gerard_, which in Dutch signifies amiable; or GAR _all_, AERD _nature_. He firstchanged it to a Latin word of much the same signification, _desiderius_, which afterwards he refined into the Greek _Erasmus_, by which name heis now known. The celebrated _Reuchlin_, which in German signifies_smoke_, considered it more dignified to smoke in Greek by the name of_Capnio_. An Italian physician of the name of _Senza Malizia_, pridedhimself as much on his translating it into the Greek _Akakia_, as on theworks which he published under that name. One of the most amiable of thereformers was originally named _Hertz Schwartz_ (black earth), which heelegantly turned into the Greek name _Melancthon_. The vulgar name of agreat Italian poet was _Trapasso_; but when the learned Gravius resolvedto devote the youth to the muses, he gave him a mellifluous name, whichthey have long known and cherished--_Metastasio_. 

Harsh names will have, in spite of all our philosophy, a painful andludicrous effect on our ears and our associations: it is vexatious thatthe softness of delicious vowels, or the ruggedness of inexorableconsonants, should at all be connected with a man's happiness, or evenhave an influence on his fortune. 

The actor _Macklin_ was softened down by taking in the first and lastsyllables of the name of _Macklaughlin_, as _Malloch_ was polished to_Mallet_; and even our sublime Milton, in a moment of humour and hatredto the Scots, condescends to insinuate that their barbarous names aresymbolical of their natures, --and from a man of the name of _MacCollkittok_, he expects no mercy. Virgil, when young, formed a design ofa national poem, but was soon discouraged from proceeding, merely by theroughness and asperity of the old Roman names, such as _Decius Mus_;_Lucumo_; _Vibius Caudex_. The same thing has happened to a friend whobegan an Epic on the subject of _Drake's_ discoveries; the name of thehero often will produce a ludicrous effect, but one of the most unluckyof his chief heroes must be _Thomas Doughty_! One of Blackmore's chiefheroes in his Alfred is named _Gunter_; a printer's erratum might havebeen fatal to all his heroism; as it is, he makes a sorry appearance. Metastasio found himself in the same situation. In one of his letters hewrites, "The title of my new opera is _Il Re Pastor_. The chief incidentis the restitution of the kingdom of Sidon to the lawful heir: a princewith such a _hypochondriac name_, that he would have disgraced thetitle-page of any piece; who would have been able to bear an operaentitled _L'Abdolonimo_? I have contrived to name him as seldom aspossible. " So true is it, as the caustic Boileau exclaims of an epicpoet of his days, who had shown some dexterity in cacophony, when hechose his hero--

 O le plaisant projet d'un poète ignorant, Qui de tant de heros va choisir _Childebrand_! D'un seul nom quelquefois le son dur et bizarre Bend un poème entier, ou burlesque ou barbare. _Art Poétique_, c. Iii. V. 241. 

 In such a crowd the Poet were to blame To choose _King Chilperic_ for his hero's name. SIR W. SOAMES. 

This epic poet perceiving the town joined in the severe raillery of thepoet, published a long defence of his hero's name; but the town wasinexorable, and the epic poet afterwards changed _Childebrand's_ nameto _Charles Martel_, which probably was discovered to have somethingmore humane. Corneille's _Pertharite_ was an unsuccessful tragedy, andVoltaire deduces its ill fortune partly from its barbarous _names_, suchas _Garibald_ and _Edvidge_. Voltaire, in giving the _names_ of thefounders of Helvetic freedom, says, the difficulty of pronouncing theserespectable names is injurious to their celebrity; they are _Melchthal_, _Stawffarcher_, and _Valtherfurst_. 

We almost hesitate to credit what we know to be true, that the _length_or the _shortness_ of a _name_ can seriously influence the mind. Buthistory records many facts of this nature. Some nations have longcherished a feeling that there is a certain elevation or abasement inproper names. Montaigne on this subject says, "A gentleman, one of myneighbours, in over-valuing the excellences of old times, never omittednoticing the pride and magnificence of the _names_ of the nobility ofthose days! Don _Grumedan_, _Quadragan_, _Argesilan_, when fullysounded, were evidently men of another stamp than _Peter_, _Giles_, and_Michel_. " What could be hoped for from the names of Ebenezer, Malachi, and Methusalem? The Spaniards have long been known for cherishing apassion for dignified names, and are marvellously affected by long andvoluminous ones; to enlarge them they often add the places of theirresidence. We ourselves seem affected by triple names; and the authorsof certain periodical publications always assume for their _nom deguerre_ a triple name, which doubtless raises them much higher in theirreader's esteem than a mere Christian and surname. Many Spaniards havegiven themselves _names_ from some remarkable incident in their lives. One took the name of the Royal Transport, for having conducted theInfanta in Italy. Orendayes added de la Paz, for having signed the peacein 1725. Navarro, after a naval battle off Toulon, added la Vittoria, though he had remained in safety at Cadiz while the French admiral LeCourt had fought the battle, which was entirely in favour of theEnglish. A favourite of the King of Spain, a great genius, and thefriend of Farinelli, who had sprung from a very obscure origin, toexpress his contempt of these empty and haughty _names_ assumed, whencalled to the administration, that of the Marquis of _La Ensenada_(nothing in himself). 

But the influence of _long names_ is of very ancient standing. Luciannotices one _Simon_, who coming to a great fortune aggrandised his nameto _Simonides_. _Dioclesian_ had once been plain _Diocles_ before he wasemperor. When _Bruna_ became queen of France, it was thought proper toconvey some of the regal pomp in her name by calling her _Brunehault_. 

The Spaniards then must feel a most singular contempt for a _very shortname_, and on this subject Fuller has recorded a pleasant fact. Anopulent citizen of the name of _John Cuts_ (what name can be moreunluckily short?) was ordered by Elizabeth to receive the Spanishambassador; but the latter complained grievously, and thought he wasdisparaged by the _shortness_ of his _name_. He imagined that a manbearing a monosyllabic name could never, in the great alphabet of civillife, have performed anything great or honourable; but when he foundthat honest _John Cuts_ displayed a hospitality which had nothingmonosyllabic in it, he groaned only at the utterance of the _name_ ofhis host. 

There are _names_, indeed, which in the social circle will in spite ofall due gravity awaken a harmless smile, and Shenstone solemnly thankedGod that his name was not liable to a pun. There are some names whichexcite horror, such as Mr. Stabback; others contempt, as Mr. Twopenny;and others of vulgar or absurd signification, subject too often to theinsolence of domestic witlings, which occasions irritation even in theminds of worthy, but suffering, men. 

There is an association of pleasing ideas with certain _names_, --and inthe literary world they produce a fine effect. _Bloomfield_ is a nameapt and fortunate for a rustic bard; as _Florian_ seems to describe hissweet and flowery style. Dr. Parr derived his first acquaintance withthe late Mr. _Homer_ from the aptness of his name, associating with hispursuits. Our writers of romances and novels are initiated into all thearcana of _names_, which cost them many painful inventions. It isrecorded of one of the old Spanish writers of romance, that he was formany days at a loss to coin a fit name for one of his giants; he wishedto hammer out one equal in magnitude to the person he conceived inimagination; and in the haughty and lofty name of _Traquitantos_, hethought he had succeeded. Richardson, the great father of our novelists, appears to have considered the _name_ of Sir _Charles Grandison_ as_perfect_ as his character, for his heroine writes, "You know his _noblename_, my Lucy. " He felt the same for his _Clementina_, for Miss Byronwrites, "Ah, Lucy, what a _pretty name_ is _Clementina_!" We experiencea certain tenderness for _names_, and persons of refined imaginationsare fond to give affectionate or lively epithets to things and personsthey love. Petrarch would call one friend _Lellus_, and another_Socrates_, as descriptive of their character. 

In our own country, formerly, the ladies appear to have been equallysensible to poetical or elegant _names_, such as _Alicia, Celicia, Diana, Helena_, &c. Spenser, the poet, gave to his two sons two _names_of this kind; he called one _Silvanus_, from the woody Kilcolman, hisestate; and the other _Peregrine_, from his having been born in astrange place, and his mother then travelling. The fair Eloisa gave thewhimsical name of _Astrolabus_ to her boy; it bore some reference to thestars, as her own to the sun. 

Whether this name of _Astrolabus_ had any scientific influence over theson, I know not; but I have no doubt that whimsical names may have agreat influence over our characters. The practice of romantic namesamong persons, even of the lowest orders of society, has become a verygeneral evil: and doubtless many unfortunate beauties, of the names of_Clarissa_ and _Eloisa_, might have escaped under the less dangerousappellatives of _Elizabeth_ or _Deborah_. I know a person who has notpassed his life without some inconvenience from his _name_, mean talentsand violent passions not according with _Antoninus_; and a certainwriter of verses might have been no versifier, and less a lover of thetrue Falernian, had it not been for his namesake _Horace_. TheAmericans, by assuming _Roman_ names, produce ludicrous associations;_Romulus_ Higgs, and _Junius Brutus_ Booth. There was more sense, whenthe Foundling Hospital was first instituted, in baptizing the mostrobust boys, designed for the sea-service, by the names of Drake, Norris, or Blake, after our famous admirals. 

It is no trifling misfortune in life to bear an illustrious name; and inan author it is peculiarly severe. A history now by a Mr. Hume, or apoem by a Mr. Pope, would be examined with different eyes than had theyborne any other name. The relative of a great author should endeavournot to be an author. Thomas Corneille had the unfortunate honour ofbeing brother to a great poet, and his own merits have been considerablyinjured by the involuntary comparison. The son of Racine has writtenwith an amenity not unworthy of his celebrated father; amiable andcandid, he had his portrait painted, with the works of his father inhis hand, and his eye fixed on this verse from Phædra, --

 Et moi, fils inconnu d'un si glorieux père!

But even his modesty only served to whet the dart of epigram. It wasonce bitterly said of the son of an eminent literary character, --

 He tries to write because his father writ, And shows himself a bastard by his wit. 

Amongst some of the disagreeable consequences attending some _names_, is, when they are unluckily adapted to an uncommon rhyme; how can anyman defend himself from this malicious ingenuity of wit? _Freret_, oneof those unfortunate victims to Boileau's verse, is said not to havebeen deficient in the decorum of his manners, and he complained that hewas represented as a drunkard, merely because his _name rhymed_ to_Cabaret_. Murphy, no doubt, felicitated himself in his literary quarrelwith Dr. _Franklin_, the poet and critical reviewer, by adopting thesingular rhyme of "envy rankling" to his rival's and critic's name. 

Superstition has interfered even in the _choice of names_, and thissolemn folly has received the name of a science, called _Onomantia_; ofwhich the superstitious ancients discovered a hundred foolish mysteries. They cast up the numeral letters of _names_, and Achilles was thereforefated to vanquish Hector, from the numeral letters in his name amountingto a higher number than his rival's. They made many whimsical divisionsand subdivisions of names, to prove them lucky or unlucky. But thesefollies are not those that I am now treating on. Some names have beenconsidered as more auspicious than others. Cicero informs us that whenthe Romans raised troops, they were anxious that the _name_ of the firstsoldier who enlisted should be one of good augury. When the censorsnumbered the citizens, they always began by a fortunate name, such as_Salvius Valereus_. A person of the name of _Regillianus_ was chosenemperor, merely from the royal sound of his name, and _Jovian_ waselected because his name approached nearest to the beloved one of thephilosophic _Julian_. This fanciful superstition was even carried so farthat some were considered as auspicious, and others as unfortunate. Thesuperstitious belief in _auspicious names_ was so strong, that Cæsar, in his African expedition, gave a command to an obscure and distantrelative of the Scipios, to please the popular prejudice that theScipios were invincible in Africa. Suetonius observes that all those ofthe family of Cæsar who bore the surname of Caius perished by the sword. 

The Emperor Severus consoled himself for the licentious life of hisempress Julia, from the fatality attending those of her _name_. Thisstrange prejudice of lucky and unlucky names prevailed in modern Europe. The successor of Adrian VI. (as Guicciardini tells us) wished topreserve his own name on the papal throne; but he gave up the wish whenthe conclave of cardinals used the powerful argument that all the popeswho had preserved their own names had died in the first year of theirpontificates. Cardinal Marcel Cervin, who preserved his name whenelected pope, died on the twentieth day of his pontificate, and thisconfirmed this superstitious opinion. La Motte le Vayer gravely assertsthat all the queens of Naples of the name of _Joan_, and the kings ofScotland of the name of _James_, have been unfortunate: and we haveformal treatises of the fatality of Christian names. It is a vulgarnotion that every female of the name of _Agnes_ is fated to become mad. Every nation has some names labouring with this popular prejudice. 

Herrera, the Spanish historian, records an anecdote in which the choiceof a queen entirely arose from her _name_. When two French ambassadorsnegotiated a marriage between one of the Spanish princesses and LouisVIII. , the names of the Royal females were _Urraca_ and _Blanche_. Theformer was the elder and the more beautiful, and intended by the Spanishcourt for the French monarch; but they resolutely preferred _Blanche_, observing that the _name_ of _Urraca_ would never do! and for the sakeof a more mellifluous sound, they carried off, exulting in their owndiscerning ears, the happier named, but less beautiful princess. 

There are _names_ indeed which are painful to the feelings, from theassociations of our passions. [22] I have seen the Christian _name_ of agentleman, the victim of the caprice of his godfather, who is called_Blast us Godly_, --which, were he designed for a bishop, must irritatereligious feelings. I am not surprised that one of the Spanish monarchsrefused to employ a sound catholic for his secretary, because his name(_Martin Lutero_) had an affinity to the _name_ of the reformer. Mr. Rose has recently informed us that an architect called _Malacarne_, who, I believe, had nothing against him but his _name_, was lately deprivedof his place as principal architect by the Austrian government, --let ushope not for his unlucky _name_; though that government, according toMr. Rose, acts on capricious principles! The fondness which some havefelt to perpetuate their _names_, when their race has fallen extinct, iswell known; and a fortune has then been bestowed for a change of name. But the affection for names has gone even farther. A _similitude ofnames_, Camden observes, "dothe kindle sparkes of love and liking amongmeere strangers. " I have observed the great pleasure of persons withuncommon names meeting with another of the same name; an instantrelationship appears to take place; and I have known that fortunes havebeen bequeathed for _namesakes_. An ornamental manufacturer, who bears aname which he supposes to be very uncommon, having executed an order fora gentleman of the _same name_, refused to send his bill, never havingmet with the like, preferring to payment the honour of serving him for_namesake_. 

Among the Greeks and the Romans, beautiful and significant names werestudied. The sublime Plato himself has noticed the present topic; hisvisionary ear was sensible to the delicacy of a name; and his exaltedfancy was delighted with _beautiful names_, as well as every otherspecies of beauty. In his Cratylus he is solicitous that persons shouldhave happy, harmonious, and attractive _names_. According to AulusGellius, the Athenians enacted by a public decree, that no slave shouldever bear the consecrated names of their two youthful patriots, Harmodius and Aristogiton, --names which had been devoted to theliberties of their country, they considered would be contaminated byservitude. The ancient Romans decreed that the surnames of infamouspatricians should not be borne by any other patrician of that family, that their very names might be degraded and expire with them. Eutropiusgives a pleasing proof of national friendships being cemented by a_name_; by a treaty of peace between the Romans and the Sabines, theyagreed to melt the two nations into one mass, that they should beartheir _names_ conjointly; the Roman should add his to the Sabine, andthe Sabine take a Roman name. [23]

The ancients _named_ both persons and things from some event or othercircumstance connected with the object they were to name. Chance, fancy, superstition, fondness, and piety, have invented _names_. It was acommon and whimsical custom among the ancients, (observes Larcher) togive as _nicknames_ the _letters_ of the alphabet. Thus a lame girl wascalled _Lambda_, on account of the resemblance which her lameness madeher bear to the letter λ, or _lambda_! Æsop was called _Theta_ by hismaster, from his superior acuteness. Another was called _Beta_, from hislove of beet. It was thus Scarron, with infinite good temper, alluded tohis zig-zag body, by comparing himself to the letter s or z. 

The learned Calmet also notices among the Hebrews _nicknames_ and namesof raillery taken from defects of body or mind, &c. One is called Nabal, or _fool_; another Hamor, the _Ass_; Hagab, the _Grasshopper_, &c. Womenhad frequently the names of animals; as Deborah, the _Bee_; Rachel, the_Sheep_. Others from their nature or other qualifications; as Tamar, the_Palm-tree_; Hadassa, the _Myrtle_; Sarah, the _Princess_; Hannah, the_Gracious_. The Indians of North America employ sublime and picturesque_names_; such are the great Eagle--the Partridge--Dawn of theDay!--Great swift Arrow!--Path-opener!--Sun-bright!

THE JEWS OF YORK. 

Among the most interesting passages of history are those in which wecontemplate an oppressed, yet sublime spirit, agitated by the conflictof two terrific passions: implacable hatred attempting a resolutevengeance, while that vengeance, though impotent, with dignified andsilent horror, sinks into the last expression of despair. In adegenerate nation, we may, on such rare occasions, discover among them aspirit superior to its companions and its fortune. 

In the ancient and modern history of the Jews we may find two kindredexamples. I refer the reader for the more ancient narrative to thesecond book of Maccabees, chap. Xiv. V. 37. No feeble and unaffectingpainting is presented in the simplicity of the original. I proceed torelate the narrative of the Jews of York. 

When Richard I. Ascended the throne, the Jews, to conciliate the royalprotection, brought their tributes. Many had hastened from remote partsof England, and appearing at Westminster, the court and the mob imaginedthat they had leagued to bewitch his majesty. An edict was issued toforbid their presence at the coronation; but several, whose curiositywas greater than their prudence, conceived that they might passunobserved among the crowd, and ventured to insinuate themselves intothe abbey. Probably their voice and their visage alike betrayed them, for they were soon discovered; they flew diversely in greatconsternation, while many were dragged out with little remains of life. 

A rumour spread rapidly through the city, that in honour of the festivalthe Jews were to be massacred. The populace, at once eager of royaltyand riot, pillaged and burnt their houses, and murdered the devotedJews. Benedict, a Jew of York, to save his life, received baptism; andreturning to that city, with his friend Jocenus, the most opulent of theJews, died of his wounds. Jocenus and his servants narrated the latetragic circumstances to their neighbours, but where they hoped to movesympathy they excited rage. The people at York soon gathered to imitatethe people at London; and their first assault was on the house of thelate Benedict, which having some strength and magnitude, contained hisfamily and friends, who found their graves in its ruins. The alarmedJews hastened to Jocenus, who conducted them to the governor of YorkCastle, and prevailed on him to afford them an asylum for their personsand effects. In the mean while their habitations were levelled, and theowners murdered, except a few unresisting beings, who, unmanly insustaining honour, were adapted to receive baptism. 

The castle had sufficient strength for their defence; but a suspicionarising that the governor, who often went out, intended to betray them, they one day refused him entrance. He complained to the sheriff of thecounty, and the chiefs of the violent party, who stood deeply indebtedto the Jews, uniting with him, orders were issued to attack the castle. The cruel multitude, united with the soldiery, felt such a desire ofslaughtering those they intended to despoil, that the sheriff, repentingof the order, revoked it, but in vain; fanaticism and robbery once setloose will satiate their appetency for blood and plunder. They solicitedthe aid of the superior citizens, who, perhaps not owing quite so muchmoney to the Jews, humanely refused it; but having addressed the clergy(the barbarous clergy of those days) were by them animated, conducted, and blest. 

The leader of this rabble was a canon regular, whose zeal was so ferventthat he stood by them in his surplice, which he considered as a coat ofmail, and reiteratedly exclaimed, "Destroy the enemies of Jesus!" Thisspiritual laconism invigorated the arm of men who perhaps wanted noother stimulative than the hope of obtaining the immense property of thebesieged. It is related of this canon, that every morning before he wentto assist in battering the walls he swallowed a consecrated wafer. Oneday having approached too near, defended as he conceived by hissurplice, this church militant was crushed by a heavy fragment of thewall, rolled from the battlement. 

But the avidity of certain plunder prevailed over any reflection, which, on another occasion, the loss of so pious a leader might have raised. Their attacks continued; till at length the Jews perceived they couldhold out no longer, and a council was called, to consider what remainedto be done in the extremity of danger. 

Among the Jews, their elder Rabbin was most respected. It has beencustomary with this people to invite for this place some foreigner, renowned among them for the depth of his learning, and the sanctity ofhis manners. At this time the _Haham_, or elder Rabbin, was a foreigner, who had been sent over to instruct them in their laws, and was a person, as we shall observe, of no ordinary qualifications. When the Jewishcouncil was assembled, the Haham rose, and addressed them in thismanner--"Men of Israel! the God of our ancestors is omniscient, andthere is no one who can say, Why doest thou this? This day He commandsus to die for His law; for that law which we have cherished from thefirst hour it was given, which we have preserved pure throughout ourcaptivity in all nations, and which for the many consolations it hasgiven us, and the eternal hope it communicates, can we do less than die?Posterity shall behold this book of truth, sealed with our blood; andour death, while it displays our sincerity, shall impart confidence tothe wanderer of Israel. Death is before our eyes; and we have only tochoose an honourable and easy one. If we fall into the hands of ourenemies, which you know we cannot escape, our death will be ignominiousand cruel; for these Christians, who picture the Spirit of God in adove, and confide in the meek Jesus, are athirst for our blood, andprowl around the castle like wolves. It is therefore my advice that weelude their tortures; that we ourselves should be our own executioners;and that we voluntarily surrender our lives to our Creator. We trace theinvisible Jehovah in his acts; God seems to call for us, but let us notbe unworthy of that call. Suicide, on occasions like the present, isboth rational and lawful; many examples are not wanting among ourforefathers: as I advise, men of Israel, they have acted on similaroccasions. " Having said this, the old man sat down and wept. 

The assembly was divided in their opinions. Men of fortitude applaudedits wisdom, but the pusillanimous murmured that it was a dreadfulcounsel. 

Again the Rabbin rose, and spoke these few words in a firm and decisivetone:--"My children! since we are not unanimous in our opinions, letthose who do not approve of my advice depart from this assembly!"--Somedeparted, but the greater number attached themselves to their venerablepriest. They now employed themselves in consuming their valuables byfire; and every man, fearful of trusting to the timid and irresolutehand of the women, first destroyed his wife and children, and thenhimself. Jocenus and the Rabbin alone remained. Their lives wereprotracted to the last, that they might see everything performed, according to their orders. Jocenus being the chief Jew, wasdistinguished by the last mark of human respect, in receiving his deathfrom the consecrated hand of the aged Rabbin, who immediately afterperformed the melancholy duty on himself. 

All this was transacted in the depth of the night. In the morning thewalls of the castle were seen wrapt in flames, and only a few miserableand pusillanimous beings, unworthy of the sword, were viewed on thebattlements, pointing to their extinct brethren. When they opened thegates of the castle, these men verified the prediction of their lateRabbin; for the multitude, bursting through the solitary courts, foundthemselves defrauded of their hopes, and in a moment avenged themselveson the feeble wretches who knew not how to die with honour. 

Such is the narrative of the Jews of York, of whom the historian canonly cursorily observe that five hundred destroyed themselves; but it isthe philosopher who inquires into the causes and the manner of theseglorious suicides. These are histories which meet only the eye of few, yet they are of infinitely more advantage than those which are read byevery one. We instruct ourselves in meditating on these scenes of heroicexertion; and if by such histories we make but a slow progress inchronology, our heart however expands with sentiment. 

I admire not the stoicism of Cato, more than the fortitude of theRabbin; or rather we should applaud that of the Rabbin much more; forCato was familiar with the animating visions of Plato, and was theassociate of Cicero and of Caesar. The Rabbin had probably read only thePentateuch, and mingled with companions of mean occupations, and meanerminds. Cato was accustomed to the grandeur of the mistress of theuniverse; and the Rabbin to the littleness of a provincial town. Men, like pictures, may be placed in an obscure and unfavourable light; butthe finest picture, in the unilluminated corner, still retains thedesign and colouring of the master. My Rabbin is a companion for Cato. His history is a tale

 Which Cato's self had not disdained to hear. --POPE. 

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 

The sovereignty of the seas, which foreigners dispute with us, is asmuch a conquest as any one obtained on land; it is gained and preservedby our cannon, and the French, who, for ages past, exclaim against whatthey call our tyranny, are only hindered from becoming themselvesuniversal tyrants over laud and sea, by that sovereignty of the seaswithout which Great Britain would cease to exist. 

In a memoir of the French Institute, I read a bitter philippic againstthis sovereignty, and a notice then adapted to a writer's purpose, underBonaparte, of two great works: the one by Selden, and the other byGrotius, on this subject. The following is the historical anecdote, useful to revive:--

In 1634 a dispute arose between the English and Dutch concerning theherring-fishery upon the British coast. The French and Dutch had alwayspersevered in declaring that the seas were perfectly free; and groundedtheir reasons on a work of Grotius. 

So early as in 1609 the great Grotius had published his treatise of_Mare Liberum_ in favour of the freedom of the seas. And it is a curiousfact, that in 1618, Selden had composed another treatise in defence ofthe king's dominion over the seas; but which, from accidents which areknown, was not published till the dispute revived the controversy. Selden, in 1636, gave the world his _Mare Clausum_, in answer to the_Mare Liberum_ of Grotius. 

Both these great men felt a mutual respect for each other. They onlyknew the rivalry of genius. 

As a matter of curious discussion and legal investigation, thephilosopher must incline to the arguments of Selden, who has proved byrecords the first occupancy of the English; and the English dominionover the four seas, to the utter exclusion of the French and Dutch fromfishing, without our licence. He proves that our kings have alwayslevied great sums, without even the concurrence of their parliaments, for the express purpose of defending this sovereignty at sea. A copy ofSelden's work was placed in the council-chest of the Exchequer, and inthe court of admiralty, as one of our most precious records. 

The historical anecdote is finally closed by the Dutch themselves, whonow agreed to acknowledge the English sovereignty in the seas, and pay atribute of thirty thousand pounds to the King of England, for liberty tofish in the seas, and consented to annual tributes. 

That the Dutch yielded to Selden's arguments is a triumph we cannotventure to boast. The _ultima ratio regum_ prevailed; and when we haddestroyed their whole fishing fleet, the affair appeared much clearerthan in the ingenious volumes of Grotius or Selden. Another Dutchmanpresented the States-General with a ponderous reply to Selden's _MareClausum_, but the wise Sommelsdyke advised the States to suppress theidle discussion; observing that this affair must be decided by the_sword_, and not by the _pen_. 

It may be curious to add, that as no prevailing or fashionable subjectcan be agitated, but some idler must interfere to make it extravagantand very new, so this grave subject did not want for something of thisnature. A learned Italian, I believe, agreed with our author Selden ingeneral, that the _sea_, as well as the _earth_, is subject to someStates; but he maintained, that the dominion of the sea belonged to the_Genoese_!

ON THE CUSTOM OF KISSING HANDS. 

M. Morin, a French academician, has amused himself with collectingseveral historical notices of this custom. I give a summary, for thebenefit of those who have had the honour of kissing his majesty's hand. It is not those who kiss the royal hand who could write best on thecustom. 

This custom is not only very ancient, and nearly universal, but has beenalike participated by religion and society. 

To begin with religion. From the remotest times men saluted the sun, moon, and stars, by kissing the hand. Job assures us that he was nevergiven to this superstition, xxxi. 26. The same honour was rendered toBaal, 1 Kings xix. 18. Other instances might be adduced. 

We now pass to Greece. There all foreign superstitions were received. Lucian, after having mentioned various sorts of sacrifices which therich offered the gods, adds, that the poor adored them by the simplercompliment of kissing their hands. That author gives an anecdote ofDemosthenes, which shows this custom. When a prisoner to the soldiers ofAntipater, he asked to enter a temple. --When he entered, he touched hismouth with his hands, which the guards took for an act of religion. Hedid it, however, more securely to swallow the poison he had prepared forsuch an occasion. He mentions other instances. 

From the Greeks it passed to the Romans. Pliny places it among thoseancient customs of which they were ignorant of the origin or the reason. Persons were treated as atheists, who would not kiss their hands whenthey entered a temple. When Apuleius mentions Psyche, he says, she wasso beautiful that they adored her as Venus, in kissing the right hand. 

The ceremonial action rendered respectable the earliest institutions ofChristianity. It was a custom with the primæval bishops to give theirhands to be kissed by the ministers who served at the altar. 

This custom, however, as a religious rite, declined with Paganism. 

In society our ingenious academician considers the custom of kissinghands as essential to its welfare. It is a mute form, which expressesreconciliation, which entreats favours, or which thanks for thosereceived. It is an universal language, intelligible without aninterpreter; which doubtless preceded writing, and perhaps speechitself. 

Solomon says of the flatterers and suppliants of his time, that theyceased not to kiss the hands of their patrons, till they had obtainedthe favours which they solicited. In Homer we see Priam kissing thehands and embracing the knees of Achilles, while he supplicates for thebody of Hector. 

This custom prevailed in ancient Rome, but it varied. In the first agesof the republic, it seems to have been only practised by inferiors totheir superiors:--equals gave their hands and embraced. In the progressof time even the soldiers refused to show this mark of respect to theirgenerals; and their kissing the hand of Cato when he was obliged to quitthem was regarded as an extraordinary circumstance, at a period of suchrefinement. The great respect paid to the tribunes, consuls, anddictators, obliged individuals to live with them in a more distant andrespectful manner; and instead of embracing them as they did formerly, they considered themselves as fortunate if allowed to kiss their hands. Under the emperors, kissing hands became an essential duty, even for thegreat themselves; inferior courtiers were obliged to be content to adorethe purple, by kneeling, touching the robe of the emperor by the righthand, and carrying it to the mouth. Even this was thought too free; andat length they saluted the emperor at a distance, by kissing theirhands, in the same manner as when they adored their gods. 

It is superfluous to trace this custom in every country where it exists. It is practised in every known country, in respect to sovereigns andsuperiors, even amongst the negroes, and the inhabitants of the NewWorld. Cortez found it established at Mexico, where more than a thousandlords saluted him, in touching the earth with their hands, which theyafterwards carried to their mouths. 

Thus, whether the custom of salutation is practised by kissing the handsof others from respect, or in bringing one's own to the mouth, it is ofall other customs the most universal. This practice is now become toogross a familiarity, and it is considered as a meanness to kiss the handof those with whom we are in habits of intercourse; and this customwould be entirely lost, if _lovers_ were not solicitous to preserve itin all its full power. 

POPES. 

Valois observes that the Popes scrupulously followed, in the early agesof the church, the custom of placing their names after that of theperson whom they addressed in their letters. This mark of their humilityhe proves by letters written by various Popes. Thus, when the greatprojects of politics were yet unknown to them, did they adhere toChristian meekness. At length the day arrived when one of the Popes, whose name does not occur to me, said that "it was safer to quarrel witha prince than with a friar. " Henry VI. Being at the feet of PopeCelestine, his holiness thought proper to kick the crown off his head;which ludicrous and disgraceful action Baronius has highly praised. Jortin observes on this great cardinal, and advocate of the Roman see, that he breathes nothing but fire and brimstone; and accounts kings andemperors to be mere catchpolls and constables, bound to execute withimplicit faith all the commands of insolent ecclesiastics. Bellarmin wasmade a cardinal for his efforts and devotion to the papal cause, andmaintaining this monstrous paradox, --that if the pope forbid theexercise of virtue, and command that of vice, the Roman church, underpain of a sin, was obliged to abandon virtue for vice, if it would notsin against _conscience_!

It was Nicholas I. , a bold and enterprising Pope, who, in 858, forgetting the pious modesty of his predecessors, took advantage of thedivisions in the royal families of France, and did not hesitate to placehis name before that of the kings and emperors of the house of France, to whom he wrote. Since that time he has been imitated by all hissuccessors, and this encroachment on the honours of monarchy has passedinto a custom from having been tolerated in its commencement. 

Concerning the acknowledged _infallibility of the Popes_, it appearsthat Gregory VII. , in council, decreed that the church of Rome neither_had erred_, and _never should err_. It was thus this prerogative of hisholiness became received, till 1313, when John XXII. Abrogated decreesmade by three popes his predecessors, and declared that what was done_amiss_ by one pope or council might be _corrected_ by another; andGregory XI. , 1370, in his will deprecates, _si quid in catholicâ fideerasset_. The university of Vienna protested against it, calling it acontempt of God, and an idolatry, if any one in matters of faith shouldappeal from a _council_ to the _Pope_; that is, from _God_ who presidesin _councils_, to _man_. But the _infallibility_ was at lengthestablished by Leo X. , especially after Luther's opposition, becausethey despaired of defending their indulgences, bulls, &c. , by any othermethod. 

Imagination cannot form a scene more terrific than when these men werein the height of power, and to serve their political purposes hurled thethunders of their _excommunications_ over a kingdom. It was a nationaldistress not inferior to a plague or famine. 

Philip Augustus, desirous of divorcing Ingelburg, to unite himself toAgnes de Meranie, the Pope put his kingdom under an interdict. Thechurches were shut during the space of eight months; they said neithermass nor vespers; they did not marry; and even the offspring of themarried, born at this unhappy period, _were considered as illicit_: andbecause the king would not sleep with his wife, it was not permitted toany of his subjects to sleep with theirs! In that year France wasthreatened with an extinction of the ordinary generation. A man underthis curse of public penance was divested of all his functions, civil, military, and matrimonial; he was not allowed to dress his hair, toshave, to bathe, nor even change his linen; so that upon the whole thismade a filthy penitent. The good king Robert incurred the censures ofthe church for having married his cousin. He was immediately abandoned. Two faithful domestics alone remained with him, and these always passedthrough the fire whatever he touched. In a word, the horror which anexcommunication occasioned was such, that a courtesan, with whom onePeletier had passed some moments, having learnt soon afterwards that hehad been about six months an excommunicated person, fell into a panic, and with great difficulty recovered from her convulsions. 

LITERARY COMPOSITION. 

To literary composition we may apply the saying of an ancientphilosopher:--"A little thing gives perfection, although perfection isnot a little thing. "

The great legislator of the Hebrews orders us to pull off the fruit forthe first three years, and not to taste them. He was not ignorant how itweakens a young tree to bring to maturity its first fruits. Thus, onliterary compositions, our green essays ought to be picked away. Theword _Zamar_, by a beautiful metaphor from _pruning trees_, means inHebrew to _compose verses_. Blotting and correcting was so muchChurchill's abhorrence, that I have heard from his publisher he onceenergetically expressed himself, that _it was like cutting away one'sown flesh_. This strong figure sufficiently shows his repugnance to anauthor's duty. Churchill now lies neglected, for posterity will onlyrespect those who

 ----File off the mortal part Of glowing thought with Attic art. YOUNG. 

I have heard that this careless bard, after a successful work, usuallyprecipitated the publication of another, relying on its crudeness beingpassed over by the public curiosity excited by its better brother. Hecalled this getting double pay, for thus he secured the sale of ahurried work. But Churchill was a spendthrift of fame, and enjoyed allhis revenue while he lived; posterity owes him little, and pays himnothing!

Bayle, an experienced observer in literary matters, tells us that_correction_ is by no means practicable by some authors, as in the caseof Ovid. In exile, his compositions were nothing more than spiritlessrepetitions of what he had formerly written. He confesses bothnegligence and idleness in the corrections of his works. The vivacitywhich animated his first productions failing him when he revised hispoems, he found correction too laborious, and he abandoned it. This, however, was only an excuse. "It is certain that _some authors cannotcorrect_. They compose with pleasure, and with ardour; but they exhaustall their force. They fly with but one wing when they review theirworks; the first fire does not return; there is in their imagination acertain calm which hinders their pen from making any progress. Theirmind is like a boat, which only advances by the strength of oars. "

Dr. More, the Platonist, had such an exuberance of fancy, that_correction_ was a much greater labour than _composition_. He used tosay, that in writing his works, he was forced to cut his way through acrowd of thoughts as through a wood, and that he threw off in hiscompositions as much as would make an ordinary philosopher. More was agreat enthusiast, and, of course, an egotist, so that _criticism_ruffled his temper, notwithstanding all his Platonism. When accused ofobscurities and extravagances, he said that, like the ostrich, he laidhis eggs in the sands, which would prove vital and prolific in time;however, these ostrich-eggs have proved to be addled. 

A habit of correctness in the lesser parts of composition will assistthe higher. It is worth recording that the great Milton was anxious forcorrect punctuation, and that Addison was solicitous after the minutiæof the press. Savage, Armstrong, and others, felt tortures on similarobjects. It is said of Julius Scaliger, that he had this peculiarity inhis manner of composition: he wrote with such accuracy that his MSS. Andthe printed copy corresponded page for page, and line for line. 

Malherbe, the father of French poetry, tormented himself by a prodigiousslowness; and was employed rather in perfecting than in forming works. His muse is compared to a fine woman in the pangs of delivery. Heexulted in his tardiness, and, after finishing a poem of one hundredverses, or a discourse of ten pages, he used to say he ought to reposefor ten years. Balzac, the first writer in French prose who gave majestyand harmony to a period, did not grudge to expend a week on a page, never satisfied with his first thoughts. Our "costive" Gray entertainedthe same notion: and it is hard to say if it arose from the sterility oftheir genius, or their sensibility of taste. 

The MSS. Of Tasso, still preserved, are illegible from the vast numberof their corrections. I have given a fac-simile, as correct as it ispossible to conceive, of one page of Pope's MS. Homer, as a specimen ofhis continual corrections and critical erasures. The celebrated MadameDacier never could satisfy herself in translating Homer: continuallyretouching the version, even in its happiest passages. There wereseveral parts which she translated in six or seven manners; and shefrequently noted in the margin--_I have not yet done it_. 

When Pascal became warm in his celebrated controversy, he appliedhimself with incredible labour to the composition of his "ProvincialLetters. " He was frequently twenty days occupied on a single letter. Herecommenced some above seven and eight times, and by this means obtainedthat perfection which has made his work, as Voltaire says, "one of thebest books ever published in France. "

The Quintus Curtius of Vaugelas occupied him thirty years: generallyevery period was translated in the margin five or six different ways. Chapelain and Conrart, who took the pains to review this workcritically, were many times perplexed in their choice of passages; theygenerally liked best that which had been first composed. Hume had neverdone with corrections; every edition varies from the preceding ones. Butthere are more fortunate and fluid minds than these. Voltaire tells usof Fenelon's Telemachus, that the amiable author composed it in hisretirement, in the short period of three months. Fenelon had, beforethis, formed his style, and his mind overflowed with all the spirit ofthe ancients. He opened a copious fountain, and there were not tenerasures in the original MS. The same facility accompanied Gibbon afterthe experience of his first volume; and the same copious readinessattended Adam Smith, who dictated to his amanuensis, while he walkedabout his study. 

The ancients were as pertinacious in their corrections. Isocrates, it issaid, was employed for ten years on one of his works, and to appearnatural studied with the most refined art. After a labour of elevenyears, Virgil pronounced his Æneid imperfect. Dio Cassius devoted twelveyears to the composition of his history, and Diodorus Siculus, thirty. 

There is a middle between velocity and torpidity; the Italians say, itis not necessary to be a stag, but we ought not to be a tortoise. 

Many ingenious expedients are not to be contemned in literary labours. The critical advice, To choose an _author_ as we would a _friend_, is very useful to young writers. The finest geniuses have alwaysaffectionately attached themselves to some particular author ofcongenial disposition. Pope, in his version of Homer, kept a constanteye on his master Dryden; Corneille's favourite authors were thebrilliant Tacitus, the heroic Livy, and the lofty Lucan: the influenceof their characters may be traced in his best tragedies. The greatClarendon, when employed in writing his history, read over verycarefully Tacitus and Livy, to give dignity to his style; Tacitus didnot surpass him in his portraits, though Clarendon never equalled Livyin his narrative. 

The mode of literary composition adopted by that admirable student SirWilliam Jones, is well deserving our attention. After having fixed onhis subjects, he always added the _model_ of the composition; and thusboldly wrestled with the great authors of antiquity. On board thefrigate which was carrying him to India, he projected the followingworks, and noted them in this manner:--

 1. Elements of the Laws of England. _Model_--The Essay on Bailments. ARISTOTLE. 

 2. The History of the American War. _Model_--THUCYDIDES and POLYBIUS. 

 3. Britain Discovered, an Epic Poem. Machinery--Hindu Gods. _Model_--HOMER. 

 4. Speeches, Political and Forensic. _Model_--DEMOSTHENES. 

 5. Dialogues, Philosophical and Historical. _Model_--PLATO. 

And of favourite authors there are also favourite works, which we loveto be familiarised with. Bartholinus has a dissertation on readingbooks, in which he points out the superior performances of differentwriters. Of St. Austin, his City of God; of Hippocrates, _CoacæPrænotiones_; of Cicero, _De Officiis_; of Aristotle, _De Animalibus_;of Catullus, _Coma Berenices_; of Virgil, the sixth book of the Æneid, &c. Such judgments are indeed not to be our guides; but such a mode ofreading is useful, by condensing our studies. 

Evelyn, who has written treatises on several subjects, was occupied foryears on them. His manner of arranging his materials, and his mode ofcomposition, appear excellent. Having chosen a subject, he analysed itinto its various parts, under certain heads, or titles, to be filled upat leisure. Under these heads he set down his own thoughts as theyoccurred, occasionally inserting whatever was useful from his reading. When his collections were thus formed, he digested his own thoughtsregularly, and strengthened them by authorities from ancient and modernauthors, or alleged his reasons for dissenting from them. Hiscollections in time became voluminous, but he then exercised thatjudgment which the formers of such collections are usually deficient in. With Hesiod he knew that "half is better than the whole, " and it was hisaim to express the quintessence of his reading, but not to give it in acrude state to the world, and when his _treatises_ were sent to thepress, they were not half the size of his collections. 

Thus also Winkelmann, in his "History of Art, " an extensive work, waslong lost in settling on a plan; like artists, who make random sketchesof their first conceptions, he threw on paper ideas, hints, andobservations which occurred in his readings--many of them, indeed, werenot connected with his history, but were afterwards inserted in some ofhis other works. 

Even Gibbon tells us of his Roman History, "at the outset all was darkand doubtful; even the title of the work, the true æra of the declineand fall of the empire, the limits of the introduction, the division ofthe chapters, and the order of the narration; and I was often tempted tocast away the labour of seven years. " Akenside has exquisitely describedthe progress and the pains of genius in its delightful reveries:Pleasures of Imagination, b. Iii. V. 373. The pleasures of compositionin an ardent genius were never so finely described as by Buffon. Speaking of the hours of composition he said, "These are the mostluxurious and delightful moments of life: moments which have oftenenticed me to pass fourteen hours at my desk in a state of transport;this _gratification_ more than _glory_ is my reward. "

The publication of Gibbon's Memoirs conveyed to the world a faithfulpicture of the most fervid industry; it is in _youth_ the foundations ofsuch a sublime edifice as his history must be laid. The world can nowtrace how this Colossus of erudition, day by day, and year by year, prepared himself for some vast work. 

Gibbon has furnished a new idea in the art of reading! We ought, sayshe, not to attend to the _order of our books, so much as of ourthoughts_. "The perusal of a particular work gives birth perhaps toideas unconnected with the subject it treats; I pursue these ideas, andquit my proposed plan of reading. " Thus in the midst of Homer he readLonginus; a chapter of Longinus led to an epistle of Pliny; and havingfinished Longinus, he followed the train of his ideas of the sublime andbeautiful in the Inquiry of Burke, and concluded with comparing theancient with the modern Longinus. Of all our popular writers the mostexperienced reader was Gibbon, and he offers an important advice to anauthor engaged on a particular subject: "I suspended my perusal of anynew book on the subject till I had reviewed all that I knew, orbelieved, or had thought on it, that I might be qualified to discern howmuch the authors added to my original stock. "

These are valuable hints to students, and such have been practised byothers. [24] Ancillon was a very ingenious student; he seldom read a bookthroughout without reading in his progress many others; hislibrary-table was always covered with a number of books for the mostpart open: this variety of authors bred no confusion; they all assistedto throw light on the same topic; he was not disgusted by frequentlyseeing the same thing in different writers; their opinions were so manynew strokes, which completed the ideas which he had conceived. Thecelebrated Father Paul studied in the same manner. He never passed overan interesting subject till he had confronted a variety of authors. Inhistorical researches he never would advance, till he had fixed, oncefor all, the places, time, and opinions--a mode of study which appearsvery dilatory, but in the end will make a great saving of time, andlabour of mind: those who have not pursued this method are all theirlives at a loss to settle their opinions and their belief, from the wantof having once brought them to such a test. 

I shall now offer a plan of Historical Study, and a calculation of thenecessary time it will occupy, without specifying the authors; as I onlypropose to animate a young student, who feels he has not to number thedays of a patriarch, that he should not be alarmed at the vast labyrinthhistorical researches present to his eye. If we look into publiclibraries, more than thirty thousand volumes of history may be found. 

Lenglet du Fresnoy, one of the greatest readers, calculated that hecould not read, with satisfaction, more than ten hours a day, and tenpages in folio an hour; which makes one hundred pages every day. Supposing each volume to contain one thousand pages, every month wouldamount to three volumes, which make thirty-six volumes in folio in theyear. In fifty years a student could only read eighteen hundred volumesin folio. All this, too, supposing uninterrupted health, and anintelligence as rapid as the eyes of the laborious researcher. A man canhardly study to advantage till past twenty, and at fifty his eyes willbe dimmed, and his head stuffed with much reading that should never beread. His fifty years for eighteen hundred volumes are reduced to thirtyyears, and one thousand volumes! And, after all, the universal historianmust resolutely face thirty thousand volumes!

But to cheer the historiographer, he shows, that a public library isonly necessary to be consulted; it is in our private closet where shouldbe found those few writers who direct us to their rivals, withoutjealousy, and mark, in the vast career of time, those who are worthy toinstruct posterity. His calculation proceeds on this plan, that _sixhours_ a day, and the term of _ten years_, are sufficient to pass over, with utility, the immense field of history. 

He calculates an alarming extent of historical ground. 

 For a knowledge of Sacred History he gives 3 months. Ancient Egypt, Babylon, and Assyria, modern Assyria} or Persia } 1 do. Greek History 6 do. Roman History by the moderns 7 do. Roman History by the original writers 6 do. Ecclesiastical History, general and particular 30 do. Modern History 24 do. To this may be added for recurrences and re-perusals 48 do. ____ The total will amount to 10½ years. 

Thus, in _ten years and a half_, a student in history has obtained anuniversal knowledge, and this on a plan which permits as much leisure asevery student would choose to indulge. 

As a specimen of Du Fresnoy's calculations, take that of SacredHistory. 

 For reading Père Calmet's learned dissertations in the} order he points out } 12 days For Père Calmet's History, in 2 vols. 4to (now in 4) 12 For Prideaux's History 10 For Josephus 12 For Basnage's History of the Jews 20 ---- In all 66 days. 

 He allows, however, ninety days for obtaining a sufficient knowledge of Sacred History. 

In reading this sketch, we are scarcely surprised at the erudition of aGibbon; but having admired that erudition, we perceive the necessity ofsuch a plan, if we would not learn what we have afterwards to unlearn. 

A plan like the present, even in a mind which should feel itselfincapable of the exertion, will not be regarded without that reverencewe feel for genius animating such industry. This scheme of study, thoughit may never be rigidly pursued, will be found excellent. Ten years'labour of happy diligence may render a student capable of consigning toposterity a history as universal in its topics, as that of the historianwho led to this investigation. 

POETICAL IMITATIONS AND SIMILARITIES. 

 Tantus amor florum, et generandi gloria mellis. _Georg. _ Lib. Iv. V. 204. 

 Such rage of honey in our bosom beats, And such a zeal we have for flowery sweets! DRYDEN. 

This article was commenced by me many years ago in the early volumes ofthe Monthly Magazine, and continued by various correspondents, withvarious success. I have collected only those of my own contribution, because I do not feel authorised to make use of those of other persons, however some may be desirable. One of the most elegant of literaryrecreations is that of tracing poetical or prose imitations andsimilarities; for assuredly, similarity is not always imitation. BishopHurd's pleasing essay on "The Marks of Imitation" will assist the criticin deciding on what may only be an accidental similarity, rather than astudied imitation. Those critics have indulged an intemperate abuse inthese entertaining researches, who from a _single word_ derive theimitation of an _entire passage_. Wakefield, in his edition of Gray, isvery liable to this censure. 

This kind of literary amusement is not despicable: there are few men ofletters who have not been in the habit of marking parallel passages, ortracing imitation, in the thousand shapes it assumes; it forms, itcultivates, it delights taste to observe by what dexterity and variationgenius conceals, or modifies, an original thought or image, and to viewthe same sentiment, or expression, borrowed with art, or heightened byembellishment. The ingenious writer of "A Criticism on Gray's Elegy, incontinuation of Dr. Johnson's, " has given some observations on thissubject, which will please. "It is often entertaining to traceimitation. To detect the adopted image; the copied design; thetransferred sentiment; the appropriated phrase; and even the acquiredmanner and frame, under all the disguises that imitation, combination, and accommodation may have thrown around them, must require both partsand diligence; but it will bring with it no ordinary gratification. Abook professedly on the 'History and Progress of Imitation in Poetry, 'written by a man of perspicuity, an adept in the art of discerninglikenesses, even when minute, with examples properly selected, andgradations duly marked, would make an impartial accession to the storeof human literature, and furnish rational curiosity with a high regale. "Let me premise that these notices (the wrecks of a large collection ofpassages I had once formed merely as exercises to form my taste) are notgiven with the petty malignant delight of detecting the unacknowledgedimitations of our best writers, but merely to habituate the youngstudent to an instructive amusement, and to exhibit that beautifulvariety which the same image is capable of exhibiting when retouchedwith all the art of genius. 

Gray, in his "Ode to Spring, " has

 The Attic warbler POURS HER THROAT. 

Wakefield in his "Commentary" has a copious passage on this poeticaldiction. He conceives it to be "an admirable improvement of the Greekand Roman classics:"

 --κἑεν αυδἡν: HES. Scut. Her. 396. --Suaves ex ore _loquelas_ _Funde_. LUCRET. I. 40. 

This learned editor was little conversant with modern literature, as heproved by his memorable editions of Gray and Pope. The expression isevidently borrowed not from Hesiod, nor from Lucretius, but from abrother at home. 

 Is it for thee, the Linnet POURS HER THROAT? _Essay on Man_, Ep. Iii, v. 33. 

Gray, in the "Ode to Adversity, " addresses the power thus, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose IRON SCOURGE and TORTURING HOUR The bad affright, afflict the best. 

Wakefield censures the expression "_torturing hour_, " by discovering animpropriety and incongruity. He says, "consistency of figure ratherrequired some _material_ image, like _iron scourge_ and _adamantinechain_. " It is curious to observe a verbal critic lecture such a poet asGray! The poet probably would never have replied, or, in a moment ofexcessive urbanity, he might have condescended to point out to thisminutest of critics the following passage in Milton:--

 ----When the SCOURGE Inexorably, and the TORTURING HOUR Calls us to penance. _Par. Lost_, B. Ii. V. 90. 

Gray, in his "Ode to Adversity, " has

 Light THEY DISPERSE, and with them go The SUMMER FRIEND. 

Fond of this image, he has it again in his "Bard, "

 They SWARM, that in thy NOONTIDE BEAM are born, Gone!

Perhaps the germ of this beautiful image may be found in Shakspeare:--

 ---- for men, like BUTTERFLIES, Show not their mealy wings but to THE SUMMER. _Troilus and Cressida_, Act iii. S. 7. 

And two similar passages in _Timon of Athens_:--

 The swallow follows not summer more willingly than we your lordship. 

 _Timon_. Nor more willingly leaves winter; such _summer birds_ are men. --Act iii. 

Again in the same, ----one cloud of winter showers These flies are couch'd. --Act ii. 

Gray, in his "Progress of Poetry, " has

 In climes beyond the SOLAR ROAD. 

Wakefield has traced this imitation to Dryden; Gray himself refers toVirgil and Petrarch. Wakefield gives the line from Dryden, thus:--

 Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high-way;

which he calls extremely bold and poetical. I confess a critic might beallowed to be somewhat fastidious in this unpoetical diction on the_high-way_, which I believe Dryden never used. I think his line wasthus:--

 Beyond the year, out of the SOLAR WALK. 

Pope has expressed the image more elegantly, though copied from Dryden, Far as the SOLAR WALK, or milky way. 

Gray has in his "Bard, "

 Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart. 

Gray himself points out the imitation in Shakspeare of the latter image;but it is curious to observe that Otway, in his _Venice Preserved_, makes Priuli most pathetically exclaim to his daughter, that she is

 Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life, Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee. 

Gray tells us that the image of his "Bard, "

 Loose his beard and hoary hair Streamed like a METEOR to the troubled air, was taken from a picture of the Supreme Being by Raphael. It is, however, remarkable, and somewhat ludicrous, that the _beard_ ofHudibras is also compared to a _meteor_: and the accompanyingobservation of Butler almost induces one to think that Gray derived fromit the whole plan of that sublime Ode--since his _Bard_ preciselyperforms what the _beard_ of Hudibras _denounced_. These are theverses:--

 This HAIRY METEOR did denounce _The fall of sceptres and of crowns_. _Hudibras_, c. 1. 

I have been asked if I am serious in my conjecture that "the _meteorbeard_" of Hudibras might have given birth to the "_Bard_" of Gray? Ireply, that the _burlesque_ and the _sublime_ are extremes, and extremesmeet. How often does it merely depend on our own state of mind, and onour own taste, to consider the sublime as burlesque! A very vulgar, butacute genius, Thomas Paine, whom we may suppose destitute of alldelicacy and refinement, has conveyed to us a notion of the _sublime_, as it is probably experienced by ordinary and uncultivated minds; andeven by acute and judicious ones, who are destitute of imagination. Hetells us that "the _sublime_ and the _ridiculous_ are often so nearlyrelated, that it is difficult to class them separately. One step abovethe sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculousmakes the sublime again. " May I venture to illustrate this opinion?Would it not appear the ridiculous or burlesque to describe the sublimerevolution of the _Earth_ on her axle, round the _Sun_, by comparing itwith the action of a _top_ flogged by a boy? And yet some of the mostexquisite lines in Milton do this; the poet only alluding in his mind tothe _top_. The earth he describes, whether

 ----She from west her _silent course_ advance With _inoffensive pace_ that _spinning sleeps_ On her _soft axle_, while she _paces even_. 

Be this as it may! it has never I believe been remarked (to return toGray) that when he conceived the idea of the beard of his _Bard_, he hadin his mind the _language_ of Milton, who describes Azazel sublimelyunfurling

 The imperial ensign, which full high advanced, _Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind_. _Par. Lost_, B. I. V. 535. 

Very similar to Gray's

 _Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air!_

Gray has been severely censured by Johnson for the expression, Give _ample room and verge enough_, The characters of hell to trace. --_The Bard_. 

On the authority of the most unpoetical of critics, we must still hearthat the poet _has no line so bad_. --"_ample room_" is feeble, but wouldhave passed unobserved in any other poem but in the poetry of Gray, whohas taught us to admit nothing but what is exquisite. "_Verge enough_"is poetical, since it conveys a material image to the imagination. Noone appears to have detected the source from whence, probably, the_whole line_ was derived. I am inclined to think it was from thefollowing passage in Dryden:

 Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an AMPLE SHIELD, Can take in all, and VERGE ENOUGH for more! Dryden's _Don Sebastian. _

Gray in his Elegy has

 Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

This line is so obscure that it is difficult to apply it to whatprecedes it. Mason in his edition in vain attempts to derive it from athought of Petrarch, and still more vainly attempts to amend it;Wakefield expends an octavo page to paraphrase this single verse. Fromthe following lines of Chaucer, one would imagine Gray caught therecollected idea. The old Reve, in his prologue, says of himself, and ofold men, For whan we may not don than wol we speken; Yet in our ASHEN cold is FIRE yreken. TYRWHIT'S _Chaucer_, vol. I. P. 153, v. 3879. 

Gray has a very expressive _word_, highly poetical, but I think notcommon:

 FOR WHO TO DUMB FORGETFULNESS a prey--

Daniel has, as quoted in Cooper's Muses' Library, And _in himself with sorrow_, does complain The misery of DARK FORGETFULNESS. 

A line of Pope's, in his Dunciad, "High-born Howard, " echoed in the earof Gray, when he gave, with all the artifice of alliteration, High-born Hoel's harp. 

Johnson bitterly censures Gray for giving to adjectives the terminationof participles, such as the _cultured_ plain; the _daisied_ bank: but hesolemnly adds, I was sorry to see in the line of a scholar like Gray, "the _honied_ spring. " Had Johnson received but the faintest tincture ofthe rich Italian school of English poetry, he would never have formed sotasteless a criticism. _Honied_ is employed by Milton in more placesthan one. 

 Hide me from day's garish eye While the bee with HONIED thigh _Penseroso_, v. 142. 

The celebrated stanza in Gray's Elegy seems partly to be borrowed. 

 Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd eaves of ocean bear: Full many a _flower_ is torn to blush _unseen, _ And _waste its sweetness in the desert air_. 

Pope had said:

 There kept by charms conceal'd from mortal eye, Like _roses_ that in _deserts bloom_ and _die_. _Rape of the Lock. _

Young says of nature:

 In distant wilds by human eye _unseen_ She rears her _flowers_ and spreads her velvet green; Pure gurgling rills the lonely _desert_ trace, And _waste their music_ on the savage race. 

And Shenstone has--

 And like the _desert's lily_ bloom to fade! Elegy iv. 

Gray was so fond of this pleasing imagery, that he repeats it in his Odeto the Installation; and Mason echoes it in his Ode to Memory. 

Milton thus paints the evening sun:

 If chance the radiant SUN with FAREWELL SWEET Extends his evening beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, &c. _Par. Lost_, B. Ii. V. 492. 

Can there be a doubt that he borrowed this beautiful _farewell_ from anobscure poet, quoted by Poole, in his "English Parnassus, " 1657? Thedate of Milton's great work, I find since, admits the conjecture: thefirst edition being that of 1669. The homely lines in Poole are these, To Thetis' watery bowers the _sun_ doth hie, BIDDING FAREWELL unto the gloomy sky. 

Young, in his "Love of Fame, " very adroitly improves on a witty conceitof Butler. It is curious to observe that while Butler had made a remoteallusion of a _window_ to a _pillory_, a conceit is grafted on thisconceit, with even more exquisite wit. 

 Each WINDOW like the PILLORY appears, With HEADS thrust through: NAILED BY THE EARS! _Hudibras_, Part ii. C. 3, v. 301. 

 An opera, like a PILLORY, may be said To NAIL OUR EARS down, and EXPOSE OUR HEAD. YOUNG'S _Satires_. 

In the Duenna we find this thought differently illustrated; by no meansimitative, though the satire is congenial. Don Jerome alluding to the_serenaders_ says, "These amorous orgies that steal the senses in the_hearing_; as they say Egyptian embalmers serve mummies, _extracting thebrain through the ears_. " The wit is original, but the subject is thesame in the three passages; the whole turning on the allusion to the_head_ and to the _ears_. 

When Pope composed the following lines on Fame, How vain that second life in others' breath, The ESTATE which wits INHERIT after death; Ease, health, and life, for this they must resign, (Unsure the _tenure_, but how vast the _fine!_) _Temple of Fame_. 

he seems to have had present in his mind a single idea of Butler, bywhich he has very richly amplified the entire imagery. Butler says, Honour's a LEASE for LIVES TO COME, And cannot be extended from The LEGAL TENANT. _Hudibras_, Part i. C. 3, v. 1043. 

The same thought may be found in Sir George Mackenzie's "Essay onpreferring Solitude to public Employment, " first published in 1665:Hudibras preceded it by two years. The thought is strongly expressed bythe eloquent Mackenzie: "_Fame is a revenue payable only to our ghosts_;and to deny ourselves all present satisfaction, or to expose ourselvesto so much hazard for this, were as great madness as to starveourselves, or fight desperately for food, to be laid on our tombs afterour death. "

Dryden, in his "Absalom and Achitophel, " says of the Earl ofShaftesbury, David for him his tuneful harp had strung, _And Heaven had wanted one immortal song_. 

This verse was ringing in the ear of Pope, when with equal modesty andfelicity he adopted it in addressing his friend Dr. Arbuthnot. 

 Friend of my life; which did not you prolong, _The world had wanted many an idle song!_

Howell has prefixed to his Letters a tedious poem, written in the tasteof the times, and he there says of _letters_, that they are

 The heralds and sweet harbingers that move From _East to West, on embassies of love_; They can the _tropic cut_, and _cross the line_. 

It is probable that Pope had noted this thought, for the following linesseem a beautiful heightening of the idea:

 Heaven first taught _letters_, for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd _lover_, or some captive maid. 

Then he adds, they

 _Speed the soft intercourse_ from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from _Indus_ to the _Pole_. _Eloisa_. 

There is another passage in "Howell's Letters, " which has a greataffinity with a thought of Pope, who, in "the Rape of the Lock, " says, Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, And _beauty draws us with a single hair_. 

Howell writes, p. 290, "'Tis a powerful sex:--they were too strong forthe first, the strongest and wisest man that was; they must needs bestrong, when _one hair of a woman can draw more than an hundred pair ofoxen_. "

Pope's description of the death of the lamb, in his "Essay on Man, " isfinished with the nicest touches, and is one of the finest pictures ourpoetry exhibits. Even familiar as it is to our ear, we never examine itbut with undiminished admiration. 

 The _lamb_, thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 

After pausing on the last two fine verses, will not the reader smilethat I should conjecture the image might originally have been discoveredin the following humble verses in a poem once considered not ascontemptible:

 A gentle _lamb_ has rhetoric to plead, And when she sees the butcher's knife decreed, Her voice entreats him not to make her bleed. DR. KING'S _Mully of Mountown_. 

This natural and affecting image might certainly have been observed byPope, without his having perceived it through the less polished lens ofthe telescope of Dr. King. It is, however, a _similarity_, though itmay not be an _imitation_; and is given as an example of that art incomposition which can ornament the humblest conception, like thegraceful vest thrown over naked and sordid beggary. 

I consider the following lines as strictly copied by Thomas Warton:

 The daring artist Explored the pangs that rend the royal breast, _Those wounds that lurk beneath the tissued vest_. T. WARTON on Shakspeare. 

Sir Philip Sidney, in his "Defence of Poesie, " has the same image. Hewrites, "Tragedy openeth the greatest _wounds_, and showeth forth the_ulcers_ that are _covered with tissue_. "

The same appropriation of thought will attach to the following lines ofTickell:

 While the charm'd reader with thy thought complies, And views thy _Rosamond_ with _Henry's_ eyes. TICKELL to ADDISON. 

Evidently from the French Horace:

 En vain contre le Cid un ministre se ligue; Tout Paris, pour _Chimene_, a les yeux de _Rodrigue_. BOILEAU. 

Oldham, the satirist, says in his satires upon the Jesuits, that hadCain been of this black fraternity, he had not been content with aquarter of mankind. 

 Had he been Jesuit, _had he but put on Their savage cruelty, the rest had gone!_ Satire ii. 

Doubtless at that moment echoed in his poetical ear the energetic andcaustic epigram of Andrew Marvel, against Blood stealing the crowndressed in a parson's cassock, and sparing the life of the keeper:

 With the Priest's vestment _had he but put on The Prelate's cruelty--the Crown had gone!_

The following passages seem echoes to each other, and it is but justicedue to Oldham, the satirist, to acknowledge him as the parent of thisantithesis:

 On Butler who can think without just rage, _The glory and the scandal of the age_? _Satire against Poetry_. 

It seems evidently borrowed by Pope, when he applies the thought toErasmus:--

 At length Erasmus, that great injured name, The _glory of the priesthood_ and the _shame_!

Young remembered the antithesis when he said, Of some for _glory_ such the boundless rage, That they're the blackest _scandal_ of the age. 

Voltaire, a great reader of Pope, seems to have borrowed part of theexpression:--

 _Scandale_ d'Eglise, et des rois le modèle. 

De Caux, an old French poet, in one of his moral poems on an hour-glass, inserted in modern collections, has many ingenious thoughts. That thispoem was read and admired by Goldsmith, the following beautiful imageseems to indicate. De Caux, comparing the world to his hour-glass, saysbeautifully, _C'est un verre qui luit, Qu'un souffle peut détruire, et qu'un souffle a produit. _

Goldsmith applies the thought very happily--

 Princes and lords may flourish or may fade; _A breath can make them, as a breath has made. _

I do not know whether we might not read, for modern copies are sometimesincorrect, A breath _unmakes_ them, as a breath has made. 

Thomson, in his pastoral story of Palemon and Lavinia, appears to havecopied a passage from Otway. Palemon thus addresses Lavinia:--

 Oh, let me now into a richer soil _Transplant_ thee safe, where vernal _suns_ and showers Diffuse their warmest, largest influence; And of my _garden_ be the pride and joy!

Chamont employs the same image when speaking of Monimia; he says--

 You took her up a _little tender flower_, ---- and with a careful loving hand _Transplanted_ her into your own fair _garden_, Where the _sun_ always shines. 

The origin of the following imagery is undoubtedly Grecian; but it isstill embellished and modified by our best poets:--

 ----While universal _Pan_, Knit with the _graces_ and the _hours, in dance Led_ on th' eternal spring. _Paradise Lost_. 

Thomson probably caught this strain of imagery:

 Sudden to heaven Thence weary vision turns, where _leading soft The silent hours_ of love, with purest ray Sweet _Venus_ shines. _Summer_, v. 1692. 

Gray, in repeating this imagery, has borrowed a remarkable epithet fromMilton:

 Lo, where the _rosy-bosom'd hours, Fair Venus' train_, appear. _Ode to Spring_. 

 Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund _spring_; The _graces_ and the _rosy-bosom'd hours_ Thither all their bounties bring. _Comus_, v. 984. 

Collins, in his Ode to _Fear_, whom he associates with _Danger_, theregrandly personified, was I think considerably indebted to the followingstanza of Spenser:

 Next him was _Fear_, all arm'd from top to toe, Yet thought himself not safe enough thereby: But fear'd each sudden movement to and fro; And _his own arms_ when glittering he did spy, Or _clashing heard_, he fast away did fly, As ashes pale of hue and wingy heel'd; And evermore on _Danger_ fix'd his eye, 'Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield, Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield. _Faery Queen_, B. Iii. C. 12, s. 12. 

Warm from its perusal, he seems to have seized it as a hint to the Odeto Fear, and in his "Passions" to have very finely copied an idea here:

 First _Fear_, his hand, his skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid, And _back recoil'd_, he knew not why, _E'en at the sound himself had made. _ _Ode to the Passions_. 

The stanza in Beattie's "Minstrel, " first book, in which his "visionaryboy, " after "the storm of summer rain, " views "the rainbow brighten tothe setting sun, " and runs to reach it:

 Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh, How vain the chase thine ardour has begun! 'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run; Thus it fares with age, &c. 

The same train of thought and imagery applied to the same subject, though the image itself be somewhat different, may be found in the poemsof the platonic John Norris; a writer who has great originality ofthought, and a highly poetical spirit. His stanza runs thus:

 So to the unthinking boy the distant sky Seems on some mountain's surface to relie; He with ambitious haste climbs the ascent, _Curious to touch the firmament_; But when with an unwearied pace, He is arrived at the long-wish'd-for place, With sighs the sad defeat he does deplore, His heaven is still as distant as before! _The Infidel_, by JOHN NORRIS. 

In the modern tragedy of _The Castle Spectre_ is this fine descriptionof the ghost of Evelina:--"Suddenly a female form glided along thevault. I flew towards her. My arms were already _unclosed to claspher, --when suddenly her figure changed_! Her face grew pale--a stream ofblood gushed from her bosom. While speaking, her form withered away;_the flesh fell from her bones_; a skeleton loathsome and meagre claspedme in her _mouldering arms_. Her infected breath was mingled with mine;her _rotting fingers_ pressed my hand; and my face was covered with herkisses. Oh! then how I trembled with disgust!"

There is undoubtedly singular merit in this description. I shallcontrast it with one which the French Virgil has written, in an agewhose faith was stronger in ghosts than ours, yet which perhaps had lessskill in describing them. There are some circumstances which seem toindicate that the author of the _Castle Spectre_ lighted his torch atthe altar of the French muse. Athalia thus narrates her dream, in whichthe spectre of Jezabel, her mother, appears:

 C'étoit pendant l'horreur d'une profonde nuit, Ma mère Jezabel devant moi s'est montrée, Comme au jour de sa mort, pompeusement paree. -- ---- En achevant ces mots epouvantables, Son ombre vers mon lit a paru se baisser, Et moi, je lui tendois les mains pour l'embrasser, Mais _je n'ai plus trouvé qu'un horrible mélange D'os et de chair meurtris_, et trainée dans la fange, _Des lambeaux pleins de sang et des membres affreux_. RACINE'S _Athalie_, Acte ii. S. 5. 

Goldsmith, when, in his pedestrian tour, he sat amid the Alps, as hepaints himself in his "Traveller, " and felt himself the solitaryneglected genius he was, desolate amidst the surrounding scenery, probably at that moment applied to himself the following beautifulimagery of Thomson:

 As in the hollow breast of Apennine Beneath the centre of encircling hills, A myrtle rises, far from human eyes, And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild. _Autumn_, v. 202. 

Goldsmith very pathetically applies a similar image:

 E'en now where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend, Like yon _neglected shrub_ at random cast, That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. _Traveller_. 

Akenside illustrates the native impulse of genius by a simile ofMemnon's marble statue, sounding its lyre at the touch of the sun:

 For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string Consenting, sounded through the warbling air Unbidden strains; even so did nature's hand, &c. 

It is remarkable that the same image, which does not appear obviousenough to have been the common inheritance of poets, is precisely usedby old Regnier, the first French satirist, in the dedication of hisSatires to the French king. Louis XIV. Supplies the place of nature tothe courtly satirist. These are his words:--"On lit qu'en Ethiope il yavoit une statue qui rendoit un son harmonieux, toutes les fois que lesoleil levant la regardoit. Ce même miracle, Sire, avez vous fait enmoi, qui touché de l'astre de Votre Majesté, ai reçu la voix et laparole. "

In that sublime passage in "Pope's Essay on Man, " Epist. I. V. 237, beginning, Vast chain of being! which from God began, and proceeds to

 From nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike. 

Pope seems to have caught the idea and image from Waller, whose lastverse is as fine as any in the "Essay on Man:"--

 The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, On which the fabric of our world depends, One link dissolv'd, the whole creation ends. _Of the Danger his Majesty escaped_, &c. V. 168. 

It has been observed by Thyer, that Milton borrowed the expression_imbrowned_ and _brown_, which he applies to the evening shade, from theItalian. See Thyer's elegant note in B. Iv. , v. 246:

 ----And where the unpierced shade _Imbrowned_ the noon tide bowers. 

And B. Ix. , v. 1086:

 ---- Where highest Woods impenetrable To sun or star-light, spread their umbrage broad, And _brown as evening_. 

_Fa l'imbruno_ is an expression used by the Italians to denote theapproach of the evening. Boiardo, Ariosto and Tasso, have made a verypicturesque use of this term, noticed by Thyer. I doubt if it beapplicable to our colder climate; but Thomson appears to have beenstruck by the fine effect it produces in poetical landscape; for he has

 ----With quickened step _Brown night_ retires. _Summer_, v. 51. 

If the epithet be true, it cannot be more appropriately applied than inthe season he describes, which most resembles the genial clime with thedeep serenity of an Italian heaven. Milton in Italy had experienced the_brown evening_, but it may be suspected that Thomson only recollectedthe language of the poet. 

The same observation may be made on two other poetical epithets. I shallnotice the epithet "LAUGHING" applied to inanimate objects; and "PURPLE"to beautiful objects. "

The natives of Italy and the softer climates receive emotions from theview of their WATERS in the SPRING not equally experienced in theBritish roughness of our skies. The fluency and softness of the waterare thus described by Lucretius:--

 ----Tibi suaveis Dædala tellus Submittit flores: _tibi_ RIDENT _æquora ponti_. 

Inelegantly rendered by Creech, The roughest sea puts on smooth looks, and SMILES. 

Dryden more happily, The ocean SMILES, and smooths her wavy breast. 

But Metastasio has copied Lucretius:--

 A te fioriscono Gli erbosi prat: E i flutti RIDONO Nel mar placati. 

It merits observation, that the _Northern Poets_ could not exalt theirimagination higher than that the water SMILED, while the modern Italian, having before his eyes _a different Spring_, found no difficulty inagreeing with the ancients, that the waves LAUGHED. Modern poetry hasmade a very free use of the animating epithet LAUGHING. Gray hasLAUGHING FLOWERS: and Langhorne in two beautiful lines personifiesFlora:--

 Where Tweed's soft banks in liberal beauty lie, And Flora LAUGHS beneath an azure sky. 

Sir William Jones, in the spirit of Oriental poetry, has "the LAUGHINGAIR. " Dryden has employed this epithet boldly in the delightful lines, almost entirely borrowed from his original, Chaucer:--

 The morning lark, the messenger of day, Saluted in her song the morning gray; And soon the sun arose, with beams so bright, That all THE HORIZON LAUGHED to see the joyous sight. _Palamon and Arcite_, B. Ii. [25]

It is extremely difficult to conceive what the ancients precisely meantby the word _purpureus_. They seem to have designed by it anythingBRIGHT and BEAUTIFUL. A classical friend has furnished me with numeroussignifications of this word which are very contradictory. Albinovanus, in his elegy on Livia, mentions _Nivem purpureum_. Catullus, _Quercusramos purpureos_. Horace, _Purpureo bibet ore nectar_, and somewherementions _Olores purpureos_. Virgil has _Purpuream vomit ille animam_;and Homer calls the sea _purple_, and gives it in some other book thesame epithet, when in a storm. 

The general idea, however, has been fondly adopted by the finest writersin Europe. The PURPLE of the ancients is not known to us. What idea, therefore, have the moderns affixed to it? Addison, in his Vision of theTemple of Fame, describes the country as "being covered with a kind ofPURPLE LIGHT. " Gray's beautiful line is well known:--

 The bloom of young desire and _purple light_ of love. 

And Tasso, in describing his hero Godfrey, says, Heaven

 Gli empie d'onor la faccia, e vi riduce Di Giovinezza _il bel purpureo lume_. 

Both Gray and Tasso copied Virgil, where Venus gives to her son Æneas--

 ----_Lumenque_ Juventæ _Purpureum_. 

Dryden has omitted the _purple light_ in his version, nor is it given byPitt; but Dryden expresses the general idea by

 ---- With hands divine, Had formed his curling locks and _made his temples shine_, And given his rolling eys a _sparkling grace_. 

It is probable that Milton has given us his idea of what was meant by_this purple light_, when applied to the human countenance, in thefelicitous expression of

 CELESTIAL ROSY-RED. 

Gray appears to me to be indebted to Milton for a hint for the openingof his Elegy: as in the first line he had Dante and Milton in his mind, he perhaps might also in the following passage have recollected acongenial one in Comus, which he altered. Milton, describing theevening, marks it out by

 ---- What time the _laboured ox_ In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the _swinkt hedger_ at his supper sat. 

Gray has

 The _lowing herd_ wind slowly o'er the lea, The _ploughman_ homeward plods his weary way. 

Warton has made an observation on this passage in Comus; and observesfurther that it is a _classical_ circumstance, but not a _natural_ one, in an _English landscape_, for our ploughmen quit their work at noon. Ithink, therefore, the imitation is still more evident; and as Wartonobserves, both Gray and Milton copied here from books, and not fromlife. 

There are three great poets who have given us a similar incident. 

Dryden introduces the highly finished picture of the _hare_ in his AnnusMirabilis:--

 _Stanza_ 131. So I have seen some _fearful hare_ maintain A course, till tired before the dog she lay, Who stretched behind her, pants upon the plain, Past power to kill, as she to get away. 

 132. With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; His warm breath blows her flix up as she lies: She trembling creeps upon the ground away And looks back to him with _beseeching eyes_. 

Thomson paints the _stag_ in a similar situation:--

 ----Fainting breathless toil Sick seizes on his heart--he stands at bay: The _big round tears_ run down his _dappled_ face, He _groans_ in anguish. _Autumn_, v. 451. 

Shakspeare exhibits the same object:--

 The wretched animal heaved forth such _groans_, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the _big round tears_ Coursed one another down his _innocent nose_ In piteous chase. 

Of these three pictures the _beseeching eyes_ of Dryden perhaps is morepathetic than _the big round tears_, certainly borrowed by Thomson fromShakspeare, because the former expression has more passion, and istherefore more poetical. The sixth line in Dryden is perhaps exquisitefor its imitative harmony, and with peculiar felicity paints the actionitself. Thomson adroitly drops the _innocent nose_, of which one wordseems to have lost its original signification, and the other offends nowby its familiarity. _The dappled face_ is a term more picturesque, moreappropriate, and more poetically expressed. 

EXPLANATION OF THE FAC-SIMILE. 

The manuscripts of Pope's version of the Iliad and Odyssey are preservedin the British Museum in three volumes, the gift of David Mallet. Theyare written chiefly on the backs of letters, amongst which are severalfrom Addison, Steele, Jervaise, Rowe, Young, Caryl, Walsh, Sir GodfreyKneller, Fenton, Craggs, Congreve, Hughes, his mother Editha, and Lintotand Tonson the booksellers. [26]

From these letters no information can be gathered, which merits publiccommunication; they relate generally to the common civilities and commonaffairs of life. What little could be done has already been given in theadditions to Pope's works. 

It has been observed, that Pope taught himself to write, by copyingprinted books: of this singularity we have in this collection aremarkable instance; several parts are written in Roman and Italiccharacters, which for some time I mistook for print; no imitation can bemore correct. 

What appears on this Fac-Simile I have printed, to assist itsdeciphering; and I have also subjoined the passage as it was given tothe public, for immediate reference. The manuscript from whence thispage is taken consists of the first rude sketches; an intermediate copyhaving been employed for the press; so that the corrected verses of thisFac-Simile occasionally vary from those published. 

This passage has been selected, because the parting of Hector andAndromache is perhaps the most pleasing episode in the Iliad, while itis confessedly one of the most finished passages. 

The lover of poetry will not be a little gratified, when he contemplatesthe variety of epithets, the imperfect idea, the gradual embellishment, and the critical rasures which are here discovered. [27] The action ofHector, in lifting his infant in his arms, occasioned Pope much trouble;and at length the printed copy has a different reading. 

I must not omit noticing, that the whole is on the back of a letterfranked by Addison; which cover I have given at one corner of the plate. 

The parts distinguished by Italics were rejected. 

 Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy _Extends his eager arms to embrace his boy_, lovely Stretched his fond arms to seize the _beauteous_ boy; babe The _boy_ clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scar'd at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. Each _kind_ With silent pleasure _the_ fond parent smil'd, And Hector hasten'd to relieve his child. The glittering terrors unbound, _His radiant helmet_ from his brows _unbrac'd_, _on the ground, he And on the ground the glittering terror plac'd_, beamy And placed the _radiant_ helmet on the ground, _Then seized the boy and raising him in air_, lifting Then _fondling_ in his arms his infant heir, _dancing_ Thus to the gods addrest a father's prayer. Glory fills O thou, whose _thunder shakes_ th' ethereal throne, deathless And all ye other _powers_ protect my son! _Like mine, this war, blooming youth with every virtue blest_, _grace_ _The shield and glory of the Trojan race; Like mine his valour, and his just renown. Like mine his labours, to defend the crown_. Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, the Trojans To guard _my country_, to defend the crown: _In arms like me, his country's war to wage_, And rise the Hector of the future age! Against his country's foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age! successful So when triumphant from the _glorious_ toils Of heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may _All Troy shall_ hail him, with deserv'd acclaim, own the son And _cry, this chief_ transcends his father's fame. While pleas'd, amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy. Fondly on her He said, and gazing _o'er his consort's charms_, Restor'd his infant to her longing arms. On Soft _in_ her fragrant breast the babe she laid, _Prest to her heart_, and with a smile survey'd; to repose Hush'd _him to rest_, and with a smile survey'd. _passion_ But soon the troubled pleasure _mixt with rising fears_, dash'd with fear, The tender pleasure soon, chastised by fear, She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 

The passage appears thus in the printed work. I have marked in Italicsthe _variations_. 

 Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy Stretch'd his fond arms to _clasp_ the lovely boy. The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scar'd at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. With _secret_[28] pleasure each fond parent smil'd, And Hector hasted to relieve his child, The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, And placed the _beaming_ helmet on the ground: _Then kiss'd the child_, and lifting high in air, Thus to the gods _preferr'd_ a father's prayer:

 O thou, whose glory fills th' ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers, protect my son! Grant him like me to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown; Against his country's foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age! So when, triumphant from successful toils, Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail him, with deserv'd acclaim, And say, _this chief_ transcends his father's fame: While pleas'd amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy. 

 He _spoke_, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restor'd _the pleasing burden to her arms_: Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd. The _troubled pleasure_ soon chastis'd by fear, She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 

LITERARY FASHIONS. 

There is such a thing as Literary Fashion, and prose and verse have beenregulated by the same caprice that cuts our coats and cocks our hats. Dr. Kippis, who had a taste for literary history, has observed that"'Dodsley's Oeconomy of Human Life' long received the most extravagantapplause, from the supposition that it was written by a celebratednobleman; an instance of the power of _Literary Fashion_; the history ofwhich, as it hath appeared in various ages and countries, and as it hathoperated with respect to the different objects of science, learning, art, and taste, would form a work that might be highly instructive andentertaining. "

The favourable reception of Dodsley's "Oeconomy of Human Life, " produceda whole family of oeconomies; it was soon followed by a _second part_, the gratuitous ingenuity of one of those officious imitators, whom anoriginal author never cares to thank. Other oeconomies trod on the heelsof each other. 

For some memoranda towards a history of literary fashions, the followingmay be arranged:--

At the restoration of letters in Europe, commentators and compilers wereat the head of the literati; translators followed, who enrichedthemselves with their spoils on the commentators. When in the progressof modern literature, writers aimed to rival the great authors ofantiquity, the different styles, in their servile imitations, clashedtogether; and parties were formed who fought desperately for the stylethey chose to adopt. The public were long harassed by a fantastic race, who called themselves Ciceronian, of whom are recorded many ridiculouspractices, to strain out the words of Cicero into their hollowverbosities. They were routed by the facetious Erasmus. Then followedthe brilliant æra of epigrammatic points; and good sense, and goodtaste, were nothing without the spurious ornaments of false wit. Another age was deluged by a million of sonnets; and volumes were for along time read, without their readers being aware that their patiencewas exhausted. There was an age of epics, which probably can neverreturn again; for after two or three, the rest can be but repetitionswith a few variations. 

In Italy, from 1530 to 1580, a vast multitude of books were written onLove; the fashion of writing on that subject (for certainly it was notalways a passion with the indefatigable writer) was an epidemicaldistemper. They wrote like pedants, and pagans; those who could notwrite their love in verse, diffused themselves in prose. When thePoliphilus of Colonna appeared, which is given in the form of a dream, this dream made a great many dreamers, as it happens in company (saysthe sarcastic Zeno) when one yawner makes many yawn. When Bishop Hallfirst published his satires, he called them "Toothless Satires, " but hislatter ones he distinguished as "Biting Satires;" many good-natured men, who could only write good-natured verse, crowded in his footsteps, andthe abundance of their labours only showed that even the "toothless"satires of Hall could bite more sharply than those of servile imitators. After Spenser's "Faerie Queen" was published, the press overflowed withmany mistaken imitations, in which fairies were the chief actors--thiscircumstance is humorously animadverted on by Marston, in his satires, as quoted by Warton: every scribe now falls asleep, and in his

 ----dreams, straight tenne pound to one Outsteps some _fairy_---- Awakes, straiet rubs his eyes, and PRINTS HIS TALE. 

The great personage who gave a fashion to this class of literature wasthe courtly and romantic Elizabeth herself; her obsequious wits andcourtiers would not fail to feed and flatter her taste. Whether they allfelt the beauties, or languished over the tediousness of "The FaerieQueen, " and the "Arcadia" of Sidney, at least her majesty gave a vogueto such sentimental and refined romance. The classical Elizabethintroduced another literary fashion; having translated the HerculesOetacus, she made it fashionable to translate Greek tragedies. There wasa time, in the age of fanaticism, and the Long Parliament, that bookswere considered the more valuable for their length. The seventeenthcentury was the age of folios. Caryl wrote a "Commentary on Job" in twovolumes folio, of above one thousand two hundred sheets! as it wasintended to inculcate the virtue of patience, these volumes gave at oncethe theory and the practice. One is astonished at the multitude of thedivines of this age; whose works now lie buried under the brick andmortar tombs of four or five folios, which, on a moderate calculation, might now be "wire-woven" into thirty or forty modern octavos. 

In Charles I. 's time, love and honour were heightened by the wits intoflorid romance; but Lord Goring turned all into ridicule; and he wasfollowed by the Duke of Buckingham, whose happy vein of ridicule wasfavoured by Charles II. , who gave it the vogue it obtained. 

Sir William Temple justly observes, that changes in veins of wit arelike those of habits, or other modes. On the return of Charles II. , nonewere more out of fashion among the new courtiers than the old Earl ofNorwich, who was esteemed the greatest wit, in his father's time, amongthe old. 

Modern times have abounded with what may be called fashionableliterature. Tragedies were some years ago as fashionable as comedies areat this day;[29] Thomson, Mallet, Francis, Hill, applied their genius toa department in which they lost it all. Declamation and rant, andover-refined language, were preferred to the fable, the manners, and tonature--and these now sleep on our shelves! Then too we had a family ofpaupers in the parish of poetry, in "Imitations of Spenser. " Not manyyears ago, Churchill was the occasion of deluging the town with_political poems in quarto_. --These again were succeeded by _narrativepoems_, in the ballad measure, from all sizes of poets. --The Castle ofOtranto was the father of that marvellous, which once over-stocked thecirculating library and closed with Mrs. Radcliffe. --Lord Byron has beenthe father of hundreds of graceless sons!--Travels and voyages have longbeen a class of literature so fashionable, that we begin to prepare for, or to dread, the arrival of certain persons from the Continent!

Different times, then, are regulated by different tastes. What makes astrong impression on the public at one time, ceases to interest it atanother; an author who sacrifices to the prevailing humours of his dayhas but little chance of being esteemed by posterity; and every age ofmodern literature might, perhaps, admit of a new classification, bydividing it into its periods of _fashionable literature_. 

THE PANTOMIMICAL CHARACTERS. 

 Il est des gens de qui l'esprit guindé Sous un front jamais déridé Ne souffre, n'approuve, et n'estime Que le pompeux, et le sublime; Pour moi j'ose poser en fait Qu'en de certains momens l'esprit le plus parfait Peut aimer sans rougir jusqu'aux marionettes; Et qu'il est des tems et des lieux, Où le grave, et le sérieux, Ne valent pas d'agréables sornettes. Peau d'Ane. 

 People there are who never smile; Their foreheads still unsmooth'd the while, Some lambent flame of mirth will play, That wins the easy heart away; Such only choose in prose or rhyme A bristling pomp, --they call sublime! I blush not to like Harlequin, Would he but talk, --and all his kin. Yes, there are times, and there are places, When flams and old wives' tales are worth the Graces. 

Cervantes, in the person of his hero, has confessed the delight hereceived from amusements which disturb the gravity of some, who are apt, however, to be more entertained by them than they choose to acknowledge. Don Quixote thus dismisses a troop of merry strollers--"_Andad con Dios, buena gente, y hazad vuestra fiesta, porque desde muchacho fuiaficionado a la_ Carátula, _y en mi mocedad se ne ivan los ojos tras la_Farándula. " In a literal version the passage may run thus:--"Go, goodpeople, God be with you, and keep your merry making! for from childhoodI was in love with the _Carátula_, and in my youth my eyes would losethemselves amidst the _Farándula_. " According to Pineda, _La Carátula_is an actor masked, and _La Farándula_ is a kind of farce. [30]

Even the studious Bayle, wrapping himself in his cloak, and hurrying tothe market-place to Punchinello, would laugh when the fellow had humourin him, as was usually the case; and I believe the pleasure some stillfind in pantomimes, to the annoyance of their gravity, is a very naturalone, and only wants a little more understanding in the actors and thespectators. [31]

The truth is, that here our Harlequin and all his lifeless family arecondemned to perpetual silence. They came to us from the genial hilarityof the Italian theatre, and were all the grotesque children of wit, andwhim, and satire. Why is this burlesque race here privileged to cost somuch, to do so little, and to repeat that little so often? Our ownpantomime may, indeed, boast of two inventions of its own growth: wehave turned Harlequin into a magician, and this produces the surprise ofsudden changes of scenery, whose splendour and curious correctness haverarely been equalled: while in the metamorphosis of the scene, a certainsort of wit to the eye, "mechanic wit, " as it has been termed, hasoriginated; as when a surgeon's shop is turned into a laundry, with theinscription "Mangling done here;" or counsellors at the bar changed intofish-women. 

Every one of this grotesque family were the creatures of nationalgenius, chosen by the people for themselves. Italy, both ancient andmodern, exhibits a gesticulating people of comedians, and the same comicgenius characterised the nation through all its revolutions, as well asthe individual through all his fortunes. The lower classes still betraytheir aptitude in that vivid humour, where the action is suited to theword--silent gestures sometimes expressing whole sentences. They cantell a story, and even raise the passions, without opening their lips. No nation in modern Europe possesses so keen a relish for the_burlesque_, insomuch as to show a class of unrivalled poems, which aredistinguished by the very title; and perhaps there never was an Italianin a foreign country, however deep in trouble, but would drop allremembrance of his sorrows, should one of his countrymen present himselfwith the paraphernalia of Punch at the corner of a street. I wasacquainted with an Italian, a philosopher and a man of fortune, residingin this country, who found so lively a pleasure in performingPunchinello's little comedy, that, for this purpose, with considerableexpense and curiosity, he had his wooden company, in all their costume, sent over from his native place. The shrill squeak of the tin whistlehad the same comic effect on him as the notes of the _Ranz des Vaches_have in awakening the tenderness of domestic emotions in the wanderingSwiss--the national genius is dramatic. Lady Wortley Montagu, when sheresided at a villa near Brescia, was applied to by the villagers forleave to erect a theatre in her saloon: they had been accustomed to turnthe stables into a playhouse every carnival. She complied, and, as shetells us, was "surprised at the beauty of their scenes, though paintedby a country painter. The performance was yet more surprising, theactors being all peasants; but the Italians have so natural a genius forcomedy, they acted as well as if they had been brought up to nothingelse, particularly the _Arlequino_, who far surpassed any of ourEnglish, though only the tailor of our village, and I am assured neversaw a play in any other place. " Italy is the mother, and the nurse, ofthe whole Harlequin race. 

Hence it is that no scholars in Europe but the most learned Italians, smit by the national genius, could have devoted their vigils to narratethe revolutions of pantomime, to compile the annals of Harlequin, tounrol the genealogy of Punch, and to discover even the most secretanecdotes of the obscurer branches of that grotesque family, amidsttheir changeful fortunes, during a period of two thousand years! Nor isthis all; princes have ranked them among the Rosciuses; and Harlequinsand Scaramouches have been ennobled. Even Harlequins themselves havewritten elaborate treatises on the almost insurmountable difficulties oftheir art. I despair to convey the sympathy they have inspired me withto my reader; but every _Tramontane_ genius must be informed, that ofwhat he has never seen he must rest content to be told. 

Of the ancient Italian troop we have retained three or four of thecharacters, while their origin has nearly escaped our recollection; butof the burlesque comedy, the extempore dialogue, the humorous fable, andits peculiar species of comic acting, all has vanished. 

Many of the popular pastimes of the Romans unquestionably survived theirdominion, for the people will amuse themselves, though their masters maybe conquered; and tradition has never proved more faithful than inpreserving popular sports. Many of the games of our children were playedby Roman boys; the mountebanks, with the dancers and tumblers on theirmoveable stages, still in our fairs, are Roman; the disorders of the_Bacchanalia_, Italy appears to imitate in her carnivals. Among theseRoman diversions certain comic characters have been transmitted to us, along with some of their characteristics, and their dresses. Thespeaking pantomimes and extemporal comedies which have delighted theItalians for many centuries, are from this ancient source. [32]

Of the _Mimi_ and the _Pantomimi_ of the Romans the following noticesenter into our present researches:

The _Mimi_ were an impudent race of buffoons, who exulted in mimicry, and, like our domestic fools, were admitted into convivial parties toentertain the guests; from them we derive the term _mimetic_ art. Theirpowers enabled them to perform a more extraordinary office, for theyappear to have been introduced into funerals, to mimic the person, andeven the language of the deceased. Suetonius describes an _Archimimus_accompanying the funeral of Vespasian. This Arch-mime performed his partadmirably, not only representing the person, but imitating, according tocustom, _ut est mos_, the manners and language of the living emperor. Hecontrived a happy stroke at the prevailing foible of Vespasian, when heinquired the cost of all this funeral pomp--"Ten millions of sesterces!"On this he observed, that if they would give him but a hundred thousandthey might throw his body into the Tiber. 

The _Pantomimi_ were quite of a different class. They were tragicactors, usually mute; they combined with the arts of gesture music anddances of the most impressive character. Their silent language oftendrew tears by the pathetic emotions which they excited: "Their very nodspeaks, their hands talk, and their fingers have a voice, " says one oftheir admirers. Seneca, the father, grave as was his profession, confessed his taste for pantomimes had become a passion;[33] and by thedecree of the Senate, that "the Roman knights should not attend thepantomimic players in the streets, " it is evident that the performerswere greatly honoured. Lucian has composed a curious treatise onpantomimes. We may have some notion of their deep conception ofcharacter, and their invention, by an anecdote recorded by Macrobius oftwo rival pantomimes. When Hylas, dancing a hymn, which closed with thewords "The great Agamemnon, " to express that idea he took it in itsliteral meaning, and stood erect, as if measuring his size--Pylades, hisrival, exclaimed, "You make him tall, but not great!" The audienceobliged Pylades to dance the same hymn; when he came to the words hecollected himself in a posture of deep meditation. This silentpantomimic language we ourselves have witnessed carried to singularperfection; when the actor Palmer, after building a theatre, wasprohibited the use of his voice by the magistrates. It was then hepowerfully affected the audience by the eloquence of his action in thetragic pantomime of Don Juan![34]

These pantomimi seem to have been held in great honour; many werechildren of the Graces and the Virtues! The tragic and the comic maskswere among the ornaments of the sepulchral monuments of an archmime anda pantomime. Montfaucon conjectures that they formed a selectfraternity. [35] They had such an influence over the Roman people, thatwhen two of them quarrelled, Augustus interfered to renew theirfriendship. Pylades was one of them; and he observed to the emperor, that nothing could be more useful to him than that the people should beperpetually occupied with the _squabbles_ between him and Bathyllus! Theadvice was accepted, and the emperor was silenced. 

The parti-coloured hero, with every part of his dress, has been drawnout of the great wardrobe of antiquity: he was a Roman Mime. HARLEQUINis described with his shaven head, _rasis capitibus_; his sooty face, _fuligine faciem obducti_; his flat, unshod feet, _planipedes_; and hispatched coat of many colours, _Mimi centunculo_. [36] Even_Pullicinella_, whom we familiarly call PUNCH, may receive, like otherpersonages of not greater importance, all his dignity from antiquity;one of his Roman ancestors having appeared to an antiquary's visionaryeye in a bronze statue; more than one erudite dissertation authenticatesthe family likeness; the nose long, prominent, and hooked; the staringgoggle eyes; the hump at his back and at his breast; in a word, all thecharacter which so strongly marks the Punch-race, as distinctly as wholedynasties have been featured by the Austrian lip and the Bourbonnose. [37]

The genealogy of the whole family is confirmed by the general term, which includes them all; for our _Zany_, in Italian _Zanni_, comesdirect from _Sannio_, a buffoon: and a passage in Cicero, _De Oratore_, paints Harlequin and his brother gesticulators after the life; theperpetual trembling motion of their limbs, their ludicrous and flexiblegestures, and all the mimicry of their faces:--_Quid enim potest tamridiculum, quam_ SANNIO _esse? Qui ore, vultu, imitandis motibus, voce, denique corpore ridetur ipso_. Lib. Ii. Sect. 51. "For what has more ofthe ludicrous than SANNIO? who, with his mouth, his face, imitatingevery motion, with his voice, and, indeed, with all his body, provokeslaughter. "[38]

These are the two ancient heroes of pantomime. The other characters arethe laughing children of mere modern humour. Each of these chimericalpersonages, like so many county members, come from different provincesin the gesticulating land of pantomime; in little principalities therival inhabitants present a contrast in manners and characters whichopens a wider field for ridicule and satire than in a kingdom where anuniformity of government will produce an uniformity of manners. Aninventor appeared in Ruzzante, an author and actor who flourished about1530. Till his time they had servilely copied the duped fathers, thewild sons, and the tricking valets, of Plautus and Terence; and, perhaps, not being writers of sufficient skill, but of some invention, were satisfied to sketch the plots of dramas, but boldly trusted toextempore acting and dialogue. Ruzzante peopled the Italian stage with afresh enlivening crowd of pantomimic characters; the insipid dotards ofthe ancient comedy were transformed into the Venetian Pantaloon and theBolognese Doctor; while the hare-brained fellow, the arch knave, and thebooby, were furnished from Milan, Bergamo, and Calabria. He gave hisnewly-created beings new language and a new dress. From Plautus heappears to have taken the hint of introducing all the Italian dialectsinto one comedy, by making each character use his own; and even themodern Greek, which, it seems, afforded many an unexpected play onwords, for the Italian. [39] This new kind of pleasure, like the languageof Babel, charmed the national ear; every province would have itsdialect introduced on the scene, which often served the purpose both ofrecreation and a little innocent malice. Their _masks_ and _dresses_were furnished by the grotesque masqueraders of the carnival, which, doubtless, often contributed many scenes and humours to the quick andfanciful genius of Ruzzante. I possess a little book of Scaramouches, &c. By Callot. Their masks and their costume must have been copied fromthese carnival scenes. We see their strongly-featured masks; theirattitudes, pliant as those of a posture-master; the drollery of theirfigures; while the grotesque creatures seem to leap, and dance, andgesticulate, and move about so fantastically under his sharp graver, that they form as individualised a race as our fairies and witches;mortals, yet like nothing mortal![40]

The first Italian actors wore masks--objections have been raised againsttheir use. Signorelli shows the inferiority of the moderns in deviatingfrom the moveable or rather double masks of antiquity, by which theactor could vary the artificial face at pleasure. The mask has had itsadvocates, for some advantages it possesses over the naked face; a maskaggravates the features, and gives a more determined expression to thecomic character; an important effect among this fantastical group. [41]

The HARLEQUIN in the Italian theatre has passed through all thevicissitudes of fortune. At first he was a true representative of theancient Mime, but afterwards degenerated into a booby and a gourmand, the perpetual butt for a sharp-witted fellow, his companion, calledBrighella; the knife and the whetstone. Harlequin, under the reforminghand of Goldoni, became a child of nature, the delight of his country;and he has commemorated the historical character of the great HarlequinSacchi. It may serve the reader to correct his notions of one, from theabsurd pretender with us who has usurped the title. "Sacchi possessed alively and brilliant imagination. While other Harlequins merely repeatedthemselves, Sacchi, who always adhered to the essence of the play, contrived to give an air of freshness to the piece by his new salliesand unexpected repartees. His comic traits and his jests were neithertaken from the language of the lower orders, nor that of the comedians. He levied contributions on comic authors, on poets, orators, andphilosophers; and in his impromptus they often discovered the thoughtsof Seneca, Cicero, or Montaigne. He possessed the art of appropriatingthe remains of these great men to himself, and allying them to thesimplicity of the blockhead; so that the same proposition which wasadmired in a serious author, became highly ridiculous in the mouth ofthis excellent actor. "[42] In France Harlequin was improved into a wit, and even converted into a moralist; he is the graceful hero of Florian'scharming compositions, which please even in the closet. "This imaginarybeing, invented by the Italians, and adopted by the French, " says theingenious Goldoni, "has the exclusive right of uniting _naïveté_ with_finesse_, and no one ever surpassed Florian in the delineation of thisamphibious character. He has even contrived to impart sentiment, passion, and morality to his pieces. "[43] Harlequin must be modelled asa national character, the creature of manners; and thus the history ofsuch a Harlequin might be that of the age and of the people, whosegenius he ought to represent. 

The history of a people is often detected in their popular amusements;one of these Italian pantomimic characters shows this. They had a_Capitan_, who probably originated in the _Miles gloriosus_ of Plautus;a brother, at least, of our Ancient Pistol and Bobadil. The ludicrousnames of this military poltroon were _Spavento_ (Horrid fright), _Spezza-fer_ (Shiver-spear), and a tremendous recreant was Captain_Spavento de Val inferno_. When Charles V. Entered Italy, a SpanishCaptain was introduced; a dreadful man he was too, if we are to befrightened by names: _Sanqre e Fuego_! and _Matamoro_! His business wasto deal in Spanish rhodomontades, to kick out the native Italian_Capitan_, in compliment to the Spaniards, and then to take a quietcaning from Harlequin, in compliment to themselves. When the Spaniardslost their influence in Italy, the Spanish Captain was turned intoScaramouch, who still wore the Spanish dress, and was perpetually in apanic. The Italians could only avenge themselves on the Spaniards inpantomime! On the same principle the gown of Pantaloon over his redwaistcoat and breeches, commemorates a circumstance in Venetian historyexpressive of the popular feeling; the dress is that of a Venetiancitizen, and his speech the dialect; but when the Venetians lostNegropont, they changed their upper dress to black, which before hadbeen red, as a national demonstration of their grief. 

The characters of the Italian pantomime became so numerous, that everydramatic subject was easily furnished with the necessary personages ofcomedy. That loquacious pedant the _Dottore_ was taken from the lawyersand the physicians, babbling false Latin in the dialect of learnedBologna. _Scapin_ was a livery servant who spoke the dialect of Bergamo, a province proverbially abounding with rank intriguing knaves, who, likethe slaves in Plautus and Terence, were always on the watch to furtherany wickedness; while Calabria furnished the booby Giangurgello with hisgrotesque nose. Molière, it has been ascertained, discovered in theItalian theatre at Paris his "Médecin malgré lui, " his "Etourdi, " his"L'Avare, " and his "Scapin. " Milan offered a pimp in the _Brighella_;Florence an ape of fashion in _Gelsomino_. These and other pantomimiccharacters, and some ludicrous ones, as the _Tartaglia_, a spectacleddotard, a stammerer, and usually in a passion, had been graduallyintroduced by the inventive powers of an actor of genius, to call forthhis own peculiar talents. 

The Pantomimes, or, as they have been described, the continualMasquerades, of Ruzzante, with all these diversified personages, talkingand acting, formed, in truth, a burlesque comedy. Some of the finestgeniuses of Italy became the votaries of Harlequin; and the Italianpantomime may be said to form a school of its own. The invention ofRuzzante was one capable of perpetual novelty. Many of these actors havebeen chronicled either for the invention of some comic character, or fortheir true imitation of nature in performing some favourite one. One, already immortalised by having lost his real name in that of _CaptainMatamoros_, by whose inimitable humours he became the most popular manin Italy, invented the Neapolitan Pullicinello; while another, by deeperstudy, added new graces to another burlesque rival. [44] One Constantiniinvented the character of Mezetin, as the Narcissus of pantomime. Heacted without a mask, to charm by the beautiful play of his countenance, and display the graces of his figure; the floating drapery of hisfanciful dress could be arranged by the changeable humour of the wearer. Crowds followed him in the streets, and a King of Poland ennobled him. The Wit and Harlequin Dominic sometimes dined at the table of LouisXIV. --Tiberio Fiorillo, who invented the character of Scaramouch, hadbeen the amusing companion of the boyhood of Louis XIV. ; and from himMolière learnt much, as appears by the verses under his portrait:--

 Cet illustre comédien De son art traça la carrière: Il fut le maître de Molière, Et la Nature fut le sien. 

The last lines of an epitaph on one of these pantomimic actors may beapplied to many of them during their flourishing period:--

 Toute sa vie il a fait rire; Il a fait pleurer à sa mort. 

Several of these admirable actors were literary men, who have written ontheir art, and shown that it was one. The Harlequin Cecchini composedthe most ancient treatise on this subject, and was ennobled by theEmperor Matthias; and Nicholas Barbieri, for his excellent acting calledthe _Beltrame_, a Milanese simpleton, in his treatise on comedy, tell usthat he was honoured by the conversation of Louis XIII. And rewardedwith fortune. 

What was the nature of that perfection to which the Italian pantomimereached; and that prodigality of genius which excited such enthusiasm, not only among the populace, but the studious, and the noble, and themen of genius?

The Italian Pantomime had two peculiar features; a species of buffoonerytechnically termed _Lazzi_, and one of a more extraordinary nature, the_extempore dialogue_ of its comedy. 

These _Lazzi_ were certain pleasantries of gesticulation, quitenational, yet so closely allied to our notions of buffoonery, that anorthern critic would not readily detect the separating shade; yetRiccoboni asserts that they formed a critical, and not a trivial art. That these arts of gesticulation had something in them peculiar toItalian humour, we infer from Gherardi, who could not explain the termbut by describing it as "_Un Tour_; JEU ITALIEN!" It was so peculiar tothem, that he could only call it by their own name. It is difficult todescribe that of which the whole magic consists in being seen; and whatis more evanescent than the humour which consists in gestures?

"_Lazzi_, " says Riccoboni, "is a term corrupted from the old Tuscan_Lacci_, which signifies a knot, or something which connects. Thesepleasantries called _Lazzi_ are certain actions by which the performerbreaks into the scene, to paint to the eye his emotions of panic orjocularity; but as such gestures are foreign to the business going on, the nicety of the art consists in not interrupting the scene, andconnecting the _Lazzi_ with it; thus to _tie_ the whole together. "_Lazzi_, then, seems a kind of mimicry and gesture, corresponding withthe passing scene; and we may translate the term by one in ourgreen-room dialect, _side-play_. Riccoboni has ventured to describe some_Lazzi_. When Harlequin and Scapin represent two famished servants of apoor young mistress, among the arts by which they express the state ofstarvation, Harlequin having murmured, Scapin exhorts him to groan, amusic which brings out their young mistress, Scapin explains Harlequin'simpatience, and begins a proposal to her which might extricate them allfrom their misery. While Scapin is talking, Harlequin performs his_Lazzi_--imagining he holds a hatful of cherries, he seems eating them, and gaily flinging the stones at Scapin; or with a rueful countenance heis trying to catch a fly, and with his hand, in comical despair, wouldchop off the wings before he swallows the chameleon game. These, withsimilar _Lazzi_, harmonise with the remonstrance of Scapin, andre-animate it; and thus these "_Lazzi_, although they seem to interruptthe progress of the action, yet in cutting it they slide back into it, and connect or tie the whole. " These _Lazzi_ are in great danger ofdegenerating into puerile mimicry or gross buffoonery, unless fancifullyconceived and vividly gesticulated. But the Italians seem to possess thearts of gesture before that of speech; and this national characteristicis also Roman. Such, indeed, was the powerful expression of theirmimetic art, that when the select troop under Riccoboni, on their firstintroduction into France only spoke in Italian, the audience, who didnot understand the _words_, were made completely masters of the _action_by their pure and energetic imitations of nature. The Italian theatrehas, indeed, recorded some miracles of this sort. A celebratedScaramouch, without uttering a syllable, kept the audience for aconsiderable time in a state of suspense by a scene of successiveterrors; and exhibited a living picture of a panic-stricken man. Gherardi in his "Théâtre Italien, " conveys some idea of the scene. Scaramouch, a character usually represented in a fright, is waiting forhis master Harlequin in his apartment; having put everything in order, according to his confused notions, he takes the guitar, seats himself inan arm-chair, and plays. Pasquariel comes gently behind him, and tapstime on his shoulders--this throws Scaramouch into a panic. "It was thenthat incomparable model of our most eminent actors, " says Gherardi, "displayed the miracles of his art; that art which paints the passionsin the face, throws them into every gesture, and through a whole sceneof frights upon frights, conveys the most powerful expression ofludicrous terror. This man moved all hearts by the simplicity of nature, more than skilful orators can with all the charms of persuasiverhetoric. " On this memorable scene a great prince observed that"_Scaramuccia non parla, e dica gran cosa_:" "He speaks not, but he saysmany great things. "

In gesticulation and humour our Rich[45] appears to have been a completeMime: his genius was entirely confined to Pantomime; and he had theglory of introducing Harlequin on the English stage, which he playedunder the feigned name of _Lun_. He could describe to the audience byhis signs and gestures as intelligibly as others could express by words. There is a large caricature print of the triumph which Rich had obtainedover the severe Muses of Tragedy and Comedy, which lasted too long notto excite jealousy and opposition from the _corps dramatique_. 

Garrick, who once introduced a speaking Harlequin, has celebrated thesilent but powerful language of Rich:--

 When LUN appear'd, with matchless art and whim, He gave the power of speech to every limb; Tho' mask'd and mute, conveyed his quick intent, And told in frolic gestures what he meant: But now the motley coat and sword of wood Require a tongue to make them understood!

The Italian EXTEMPORAL COMEDY is a literary curiosity which claims ourattention. 

EXTEMPORAL COMEDIES. 

It is a curiosity in the history of national genius to discover a peoplewith such a native fund of comic humour, combined with such passionategesticulation, that they could deeply interest in acting a Comedy, carried on by dialogue, intrigue, and character, _all' improvista_, or_impromptu_; the actors undergoing no rehearsal, and, in fact, composingwhile they were acting. The plot, called _Scenario_, consisting merelyof the scenes enumerated, with the characters indicated, was firstwritten out; it was then suspended at the back of the stage, and fromthe mere inspection, the actors came forward to perform the dialogueentirely depending on their own genius. [46]

"These pieces must have been detestable, and the actors mere buffoons, "exclaim the northern critics, whose imaginations have a coldness inthem, like a frost in spring. But when the art of Extemporal Comedyflourished among these children of fancy, the universal pleasure theserepresentations afforded to a whole vivacious people, and the recordedcelebrity of their great actors, open a new field for the speculation ofgenius. It may seem more extraordinary that some of its votaries havemaintained that it possessed some peculiar advantages over writtencompositions. When Goldoni reformed the Italian theatre by regularcomedies, he found an invincible opposition from the enthusiasts oftheir old Comedy: for two centuries it had been the amusement of Italy, and was a species of comic entertainment which it had created. Inventiveminds were fond of sketching out these outlines of pieces, and other menof genius delighted in their representation. 

The inspiration of national genius alone could produce this phenomenon;and these Extemporal Comedies were, indeed, indigenous to the soil. Italy, a land of _Improvisatori_, kept up from the time of their oldmasters, the Romans, the same fervid fancy. The ancient _AtellanæFabulæ_, or Atellane Farces, originated at Atella, a town in theneighbourhood of ancient Naples; and these, too, were extemporalInterludes, or, as Livy terms them, _Exodia_. We find in that historiana little interesting narrative of the theatrical history of the Romans;when the dramatic performances at Rome were becoming too sentimental anddeclamatory, banishing the playfulness and the mirth of Comedy, theRoman youth left these graver performances to the professed actors, andrevived, perhaps in imitation of the licentious _Satyra_ of the Greeks, the ancient custom of versifying pleasantries, and throwing out jestsand raillery among themselves for their own diversion. [47] These AtellanFarces were probably not so low in humour as they have beenrepresented;[48] or at least the Roman youth, on their revival, exercised a chaster taste, for they are noticed by Cicero in a letter tohis literary friend Papyrius Pætus. "But to turn from the serious to thejocose part of your letter--the strain of pleasantry you break into, immediately after having quoted the tragedy of Oenomaus, puts me in mindof the _modern method_ of introducing at the _end_ of these _graverdramatic pieces_ the _buffoon humour of our low Mimes_ instead of the_more delicate burlesque of the old Atellan Farces_. "[49] This verycurious passage distinctly marks out the two classes, which so manycenturies after Cicero were revived in the _Pantomime_ of Italy, and inits _Extemporal Comedy_. [50]

The critics on our side of the Alps reproached the Italians for theextemporal comedies; and Marmontel rashly declared that the nation didnot possess a single comedy which could endure perusal. But he drew hisnotions from the low farces of the Italian theatre at Paris, and hecensured what he had never read. [51] The comedies of Bibiena, Del Lasca, Del Secchi, and others, are models of classical comedy, but not thepopular favourites of Italy. Signorelli distinguishes two species ofItalian comedy: those which he calls _commedie antiche ed eruditi_, ancient and learned comedies; and those of _commedie dell' arte_, or _asoggetto_, comedies suggested. --The first were moulded on classicalmodels, recited in their academies to a select audience, and performedby amateurs; but the _commedie a soggetto_, the extemporal comedies, were invented by professional actors of genius. More delightful to thefancy of the Italians, and more congenial to their talents, in spite ofthe graver critics, who even in their amusements cannot cast off themanacles of precedence, the Italians resolved to be pleased forthemselves, with their own natural vein; and preferred a freedom oforiginal humour and invention incompatible with regular productions, butwhich inspired admirable actors, and secured full audiences. 

Men of great genius had a passion for performing in these extemporalcomedies. Salvator Rosa was famous for his character of a Calabrianclown; whose original he had probably often studied amidst thatmountainous scenery in which his pencil delighted. Of their manner ofacting I find an interesting anecdote in Passeri's life of this greatpainter; he shall tell his own story. 

"One summer Salvator Rosa joined a company of young persons who werecuriously addicted to the making of _commedie all' improviso_. In themidst of a vineyard they raised a rustic stage, under the direction ofone Mussi, who enjoyed some literary reputation, particularly for hissermons preached in Lent. 

"Their second comedy was numerously attended, and I went among the rest;I sat on the same bench, by good fortune, with the Cavalier Bernini, Romanelli, and Guido, all well-known persons. Salvator Rosa, who hadalready made himself a favourite with the Roman people, under thecharacter of _Formica_[52] opened with a prologue, in company with otheractors. He proposed, for relieving themselves of the extreme heats and_ennui_, that they should make a comedy, and all agreed. Formica thenspoke these exact words:

"_Non boglio già, che facimmo commedie come cierti, che tagliano lipanni aduosso a chisto, o a chillo; perche co lo tiempo se fa vederechiù veloce lo taglio de no rasuolo, che la penna de no poeta; e nemanco boglio, che facimmo venire nella scena porta, citazioni, acquavitari, e crapari, e ste schifenze che tengo spropositi da aseno. _"

One part of this humour lies in the dialect, which is Venetian; butthere was a concealed stroke of satire, a snake in the grass. The senseof the passage is, "I will not, however, that we should make a comedylike certain persons who cut clothes, and put them on this man's back, and on that man's back; for at last the time comes which shows how muchfaster went the cut of the shears than the pen of the poet; nor will wehave entering on the scene, couriers, brandy-sellers, and goatherds, andthere stare shy and blockish, which I think worthy the senselessinvention of an ass. "

Passeri now proceeds: "At this time Bernini had made a comedy in theCarnival, very pungent and biting; and that summer he had one ofCastelli's performed in the suburbs, where, to represent the dawn ofday, appeared on the stage water-carriers, couriers, and goat-herds, going about--all which is contrary to rule, which allows of no characterwho is not concerned in the dialogue to mix with the groups. At thesewords of the Formica, I, who well knew his meaning, instantly glanced myeye at Bernini, to observe his movements; but he, with an artificialcarelessness, showed that this 'cut of the shears' did not touch him;and he made no apparent show of being hurt. But Castelli, who was alsonear, tossing his head and smiling in bitterness, showed clearly that hewas hit. "

This Italian story, told with all the poignant relish of these vivaciousnatives, to whom such a stinging incident was an important event, alsoshows the personal freedoms taken on these occasions by a man of genius, entirely in the spirit of the ancient Roman Atellana, or the GrecianSatyra. 

Riccoboni has discussed the curious subject of Extemporal Comedy withequal modesty and feeling; and Gherardi, with more exultation andegotism. "This kind of _spectacle_, " says Riccoboni, "is peculiar toItaly; one cannot deny that it has graces perfectly its own, and whichwritten Comedy can never exhibit. This _impromptu_ mode of actingfurnishes opportunities for a perpetual change in the performance, sothat the same _scenario_ repeated still appears a new one: thus oneComedy may become twenty Comedies. An actor of this description, alwayssupposing an actor of genius, is more vividly affected than one who hascoldly got his part by rote. " But Riccoboni could not deny that therewere inconveniences in this singular art. One difficulty not easilysurmounted was the preventing of all the actors speaking together; eachone eager to reply before the other had finished. It was a nice point toknow when to yield up the scene entirely to a predominant character, when agitated by violent passion; nor did it require a less exercisedtact to feel when to stop; the vanity of an actor often spoiled a finescene. 

It evidently required that some of the actors at least should be blessedwith genius, and what is scarcely less difficult to find, with a certainequality of talents; for the performance of the happiest actor of thisschool greatly depends on the excitement he receives from his companion;an actor beneath mediocrity would ruin a piece. "But figure, memory, voice, and even sensibility, are not sufficient for the actor _all'improvista_; he must be in the habit of cultivating the imagination, pouring forth the flow of expression, and prompt in those flashes whichinstantaneously vibrate in the plaudits of an audience. " And thisaccomplished extemporal actor feelingly laments that those destined tohis profession, who require the most careful education, are likely tohave received the most neglected one. Lucian, in his curious treatise onTragic Pantomime, asserts that the great actor should also be a man ofletters, and such were Garrick and Kemble. 

The lively Gherardi throws out some curious information respecting thissingular art: "Any one may learn a part by rote, and do something bad, or indifferent, on another theatre. With us the affair is quiteotherwise; and when an Italian actor dies, it is with infinitedifficulty we can supply his place. An Italian actor learns nothing byhead; he looks on the subject for a moment before he comes forward onthe stage, and entirely depends on his imagination for the rest. Theactor who is accustomed merely to recite what he has been taught is socompletely occupied by his memory, that he appears to stand, as it were, unconnected either with the audience or his companion; he is soimpatient to deliver himself of the burthen he is carrying, that hetrembles like a school-boy, or is as senseless as an Echo, and couldnever speak if others had not spoken before. Such a tutored actor amongus would be like a paralytic arm to a body; an unserviceable member, only fatiguing the healthy action of the sound parts. Our performers, who became illustrious by their art, charmed the spectators by thebeauty of their voice, their spontaneous gestures, the flexibility oftheir passions, while a certain natural air never failed them in theirmotions and their dialogue. "

Here, then, is a species of the histrionic art unknown to us, andrunning counter to that critical canon which our great poet, but notpowerful actor, has delivered to the actors themselves, "to speak nomore than is set down for them. " The present art consisted in happilyperforming the reverse. 

Much of the merit of these actors unquestionably must be attributed tothe felicity of the national genius. But there were probably some secretaids in this singular art of Extemporal Comedy which the pride of theartist has concealed. Some traits in the character, and some wit in thedialogue, might descend traditionally; and the most experienced actor onthat stage would make use of his memory more than he was willing toconfess. Goldoni records an unlucky adventure of his "Harlequin Lost andFound, " which outline he had sketched for the Italian company; it waswell received at Paris, but utterly failed at Fontainebleau, for some ofthe actors had thought proper to incorporate too many jokes of the "CocuImaginaire, " which displeased the court, and ruined the piece. When anew piece was to be performed, the chief actor summoned the troop in themorning, read the plot, and explained the story, to contrive scenes. Itwas like playing the whole performance before the actors. These hints ofscenes were all the rehearsal. When the actor entered on the scene hedid not know what was to come, nor had he any prompter to help him on;much, too, depended on the talents of his companions; yet sometimes ascene might be preconcerted. Invention, humour, bold conception ofcharacter, and rapid strokes of genius, they habitually exercised--andthe pantomimic arts of gesture, the passionate or humorous expression oftheir feelings, would assist an actor when his genius for a moment haddeserted him. Such excellence was not long hereditary, and in thedecline of this singular art its defects became more apparent. The racehad degenerated; the inexperienced actor became loquacious; longmonologues were contrived by a barren genius to hide his incapacity forspirited dialogue; and a wearisome repetition of trivial jests, coarsehumour, and vulgar buffoonery, damned the _Commedia a soggetto_, andsunk it to a Bartholomew-fair play. But the miracle which geniusproduced it may repeat, whenever the same happy combination ofcircumstances and persons shall occur together. 

I shall give one anecdote to record the possible excellence of the art. Louis Riccoboni, known in the annals of this theatre by the adopted nameof Lelio, his favourite _amoroso_ character, was not only anaccomplished actor, but a literary man; and with his wife Flaminia, afterwards the celebrated novelist, displayed a rare union of talentsand of minds. It was suspected that they did not act _all' improvista_, from the facility and the elegance of their dialogue; and a clamour wasnow raised in the literary circles, who had long been jealous of thefascination which attracted the public to the Italian theatre. It wassaid that the Riccobonis were imposing on the public credulity; and thattheir pretended Extemporal Comedies were preconcerted scenes. Toterminate this civil war between the rival theatres, La Motte offered tosketch a plot in five acts, and the Italians were challenged to performit. This defiance was instantly accepted. On the morning of therepresentation Lelio detailed the story to his troop, hung up the_Scenario_ in its usual place, and the whole company was ready at thedrawing of the curtain. The plot given in by La Motte was performed toadmiration; and all Paris witnessed the triumph. La Motte afterwardscomposed this very comedy for the French theatre, _L'Amante difficile_, yet still the extemporal one at the Italian theatre remained a morepermanent favourite; and the public were delighted by seeing the samepiece perpetually offering novelties and changing its character at thefancy of the actors. This fact conveys an idea of dramatic executionwhich does not enter into our experience. Riccoboni carried the_Commedie dell' Arte_ to a new perfection, by the introduction of anelegant fable and serious characters; and he raised the dignity of theItalian stage, when he inscribed on its curtain, "CASTIGAT RIDENDO MORES. "

MASSINGER, MILTON, AND THE ITALIAN THEATRE. 

The pantomimic characters and the extemporal comedy of Italy may havehad some influence even on our own dramatic poets: this source hasindeed escaped all notice; yet I incline to think it explains adifficult point in Massinger, which has baffled even the keen spirit ofMr. Gifford. 

A passage in Massinger bears a striking resemblance with one inMolière's "Malade Imaginaire. " It is in "The Emperor of the East, " vol. Iii. 317. The Quack or "Empiric's" humorous notion is so closely that ofMolière's, that Mr. Gifford, agreeing with Mr. Gilchrist, "finds itdifficult to believe the coincidence accidental;" but the greaterdifficulty is, to conceive that "Massinger ever fell into Molière'shands. " At that period, in the infancy of our literature, our nativeauthors and our own language were as insulated as their country. It ismore than probable that Massinger and Molière had drawn from the samesource--the Italian Comedy. Massinger's "Empiric, " as well as theacknowledged copy of Molière's "Médecin, " came from the "Dottore" of theItalian Comedy. The humour of these old Italian pantomimes was often astraditionally preserved as proverbs. Massinger was a student of Italianauthors; and some of the lucky hits of their theatre, which thenconsisted of nothing else but these burlesque comedies, might havecircuitously reached the English bard; and six-and-thirty yearsafterwards, the same traditional jests might have been gleaned by theGallic one from the "Dottore, " who was still repeating what he knew wassure of pleasing. Our theatres of the Elizabethan period seem to havehad here the extemporal comedy after the manner of the Italians; wesurely possess one of these _Scenarios_, in the remarkable "Platts, "which were accidentally discovered at Dulwich College, bearing everyfeature of an Italian _Scenario_. Steevens calls them "_a mysteriousfragment_ of ancient stage direction, " and adds, that "the paperdescribes a species of dramatic entertainment of which no memorial ispreserved in any annals of the English stage. "[53] The commentators onShakspeare appear not to have known the nature of these Scenarios. The"Platt, " as it is called, is fairly written in a large hand, containingdirections appointed to be stuck up near the prompter's station; and ithas even an oblong hole in its centre to admit of being suspended on awooden peg. Particular scenes are barely ordered, and the names, orrather nicknames, of several of the players, appear in the most familiarmanner, as they were known to their companions in the rude green-room ofthat day: such as "Pigg, White and Black Dick and Sam, Little WillBarne, Jack Gregory, and the Red-faced fellow. "[54] Some of these"Platts" are on solemn subjects, like the tragic pantomime; and in someappear "Pantaloon, and his man Peascod, with _spectacles_. " Steevensobserves, that he met with no earlier example of the appearance ofPantaloon, as a specific character on our stage; and that this directionconcerning "the spectacles" cannot fail to remind the reader of acelebrated passage in _As You Like It_:

 ----The lean and _slipper'd Pantaloon_, With _spectacles_ on nose----. 

Perhaps, he adds, Shakspeare alludes to this personage, as habited inhis own time. The old age of Pantaloon is marked by his _leanness_, andhis _spectacles_ and his _slippers_. He always runs after Harlequin, butcannot catch him; as he runs in _slippers_ and without _spectacles_, isliable to pass him by without seeing him. Can we doubt that thisPantaloon had come from the Italian theatre, after what we have alreadysaid? Does not this confirm the conjecture, that there existed anintercourse between the Italian theatre and our own? Farther, Tarletonthe comedian, and others, celebrated for their "extemporal wit, " was thewriter or inventor of one of these "Platts. " Stowe records of one of ouractors that "he had a quick, delicate, refined, _extemporal_ wit. " Andof another, that "he had a wondrous, plentiful, pleasant, _extemporal_wit. " These actors, then, who were in the habit of exercising theirimpromptus, resembled those who performed in the unwritten comedies ofthe Italians. Gabriel Harvey, the Aristarchus of the day, complimentsTarleton for having brought forward a _new species of dramaticexhibition_. If this compliment paid to Tarleton merely alludes to hisdexterity at _extemporaneous wit_ in the character of the _clown_, as myfriend Mr. Douce thinks, this would be sufficient to show that he wasattempting to introduce on our stage the extemporal comedy of theItalians, which Gabriel Harvey distinguishes as "a new species. " As forthese "Platts, " which I shall now venture to call "Scenarios, " theysurprise by their bareness, conveying no notion of the piece itself, though quite sufficient for the actors. They consist of mere exits andentrances of the actors, and often the real names of the actors arefamiliarly mixed with those of the _dramatis personæ_. Steevens hasjustly observed, however, on these skeletons, that although "the driftof these dramatic pieces cannot be collected from the mere outlinesbefore us, yet we must not charge them with absurdity. Even the scenesof Shakspeare would have worn as unpromising an aspect, had theirskeletons only been discovered. " The printed _scenarios_ of the Italiantheatre were not more intelligible; exhibiting only the _hints_ forscenes. 

Thus, I think, we have sufficient evidence of an intercourse subsistingbetween the English and Italian theatres, not hitherto suspected; and Ifind an allusion to these Italian pantomimes, by the great town-wit TomNash, in his "Pierce Pennilesse, " which shows that he was wellacquainted with their nature. He indeed exults over them, observing thatour plays are "honourable and full of gallant resolution, notconsisting, like theirs, of pantaloon, a zany, and a w---- e, (alludingto the women actors of the Italian stage;[55]) but of emperors, kings, and princes. " My conviction is still confirmed, when I find that StephenGosson wrote the comedy of "Captain Mario;" it has not been printed, but"Captain Mario" is one of the Italian characters. [56]

Even at a later period, the influence of these performances reached thegreatest name in the English Parnassus. One of the great actors andauthors of these pieces, who published eighteen of these irregularproductions, was Andreini, whose name must have the honour of beingassociated with Milton's, for it was his comedy or opera which threw thefirst spark of the Paradise Lost into the soul of the epic poet--acircumstance which will hardly be questioned by those who have examinedthe different schemes and allegorical personages of the first projected_drama_ of Paradise Lost: nor was Andreini, as well as many others ofthis race of Italian dramatists, inferior poets. The Adamo of Andreiniwas a personage sufficiently original and poetical to serve as the modelof the Adam of Milton. The youthful English poet, at its representation, carried it away in his mind. Wit indeed is a great traveller; and thusalso the "Empiric" of Massinger might have reached us from the Bolognese"Dottore. "

The late Mr. Hole, the ingenious writer on the Arabian Nights, observedto me that _Molière_, it must be presumed, never read _Fletcher's_plays, yet his "Bourgeois Gentilhomme" and the other's "Noble Gentleman"bear in some instances a great resemblance. Both may have drawn from thesame Italian source of comedy which I have here indicated. 

Many years after this article was written, has appeared "The History ofEnglish Dramatic Poetry, " by Mr. Collier. That very laboriousinvestigator has an article on "Extemporal Plays and Plots, " iii. 393. The nature of these "_plats"_ or "plots" he observes, "our theatricalantiquaries have not explained. " The truth is that they never suspectedtheir origin in the Italian "scenarios. " My conjectures are amplyconfirmed by Mr. Collier's notices of the intercourse of our playerswith the Italian actors. Whetstone's Heptameron, in 1582, mentions "thecomedians of Ravenna, who are not _tied to any written device_. " InKyd's Spanish Tragedy the extemporal art is described:---

 The Italian tragedians were so sharp of wit, That in one hour of meditation They would perform anything in action. 

These extemporal players were witnessed much nearer than in Italy--atthe Théâtre des Italiens at Paris--for one of the characters replies--

 I have seen the like, In Paris, among the French tragedians. 

Ben Jonson has mentioned the Italian "extemporal plays" in his "Case isAltered;" and an Italian _commediante_ his company were in London in1578, who probably let our players into many a secret. 

SONGS OF TRADES, OR SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Men of genius have devoted some of their hours, and even governmentshave occasionally assisted, to render the people happier by song anddance. The Grecians had songs appropriated to the various trades. Songsof this nature would shorten the manufacturer's tedious task-work, andsolace the artisan at his solitary occupation. A beam of gay fancykindling his mind, a playful change of measures delighting his ear, evena moralising verse to cherish his better feelings--these ingeniouslyadapted to each profession, and some to the display of patrioticcharacters, and national events, would contribute something to publichappiness. Such themes are worthy of a patriotic bard, of the Southeysfor their hearts, and the Moores for their verse. 

Fletcher of Saltoun said, "If a man were permitted to make all theballads, he need not care who should make all the laws of a nation. " Thecharacter of a people is preserved in their national songs. "God savethe King" and "Rule Britannia" were long our English national airs. 

"The story of Amphion building Thebes with his lyre was not a fable, "says Dr. Clarke, "At Thebes, in the harmonious adjustment of thosemasses which remain belonging to the ancient walls, we saw enough toconvince us that this story was no fable; for it was a very ancientcustom to _carry on immense labour by an accompaniment of music andsinging_. The custom still exists both in Egypt and Greece. It might, therefore, be said that the _Walls of Thebes_ were built at the sound ofthe only musical instrument then in use; because, according to the_custom of the country_, the lyre was necessary for the accomplishmentof the work. "[57] The same custom appears to exist in Africa. Landernotices at Yàoorie that the "labourers in their plantations wereattended by a drummer, that they might be excited by the sound of hisinstrument to work well and briskly. "[58]

Athenæus[59] has preserved the Greek names of different songs as sung byvarious trades, but unfortunately none of the songs themselves. Therewas a song for the corn-grinders; another for the workers in wool;another for the weavers. The reapers had their carol; the herdsmen had asong which an ox-driver of Sicily had composed; the kneaders, and thebathers, and the galley-rowers, were not without their chant. We haveourselves a song of the weavers, which Ritson has preserved in his"Ancient Songs;" and it may be found in the popular chap-book of "TheLife of Jack of Newbury;" and the songs of anglers, of old Izaak Walton, and Charles Cotton, still retain their freshness. 

Among the Greeks, observed Bishop Heber, the hymn which placed Harmodiusin the green and flowery island of the Blessed, was chanted by thepotter to his wheel, and enlivened the labours of the Piræan mariner. 

Dr. Johnson is the only writer I recollect who has noticed something ofthis nature which he observed in the Highlands. "The strokes of thesickle were timed by the modulation of the _harvest song_, in which alltheir voices were united. They accompany every action which can be donein equal time with an _appropriate strain_, which has, they say, notmuch meaning, but its effects are regularity and cheerfulness. There isan _oar song_ used by the Hebrideans. "

But if these chants "have not much meaning, " they will not produce thedesired effect of touching the heart, as well as giving vigour to thearm of the labourer. The gondoliers of Venice while away their longmidnight hours on the water with the stanzas of Tasso. Fragments ofHomer are sung by the Greek sailors of the Archipelago; the severelabour of the trackers, in China, is accompanied with a song whichencourages their exertions, and renders these simultaneous. Mr. Ellismentions that the sight of the lofty pagoda of Tong-chow served as agreat topic of incitement in the song of the trackers, toiling againstthe stream, to their place of rest. The canoemen, on the Gold Coast, ina very dangerous passage, "on the back of a high curling wave, paddlingwith all their might, singing or rather shouting their wild song, followit up, " says M'Leod, who was a lively witness of this happy combinationof song, of labour, and of peril, which he acknowledged was "a veryterrific process. " Our sailors at Newcastle, in heaving their anchors, have their "Heave and ho! rum-below!" but the Sicilian mariners must bemore deeply affected by their beautiful hymn to the Virgin. A society, instituted in Holland for general good, do not consider among theirleast useful projects that of having printed at a low price a collectionof _songs for sailors_. 

It is extremely pleasing, as it is true, to notice the honest exultationof an excellent ballad-writer, C. Dibdin, in his Professional Life. "Ihave learnt my songs have been considered as an object of nationalconsequence; that they have been the solace of sailors and longvoyagers, in storms, in battle; and that they have been quoted inmutinies, to the restoration of order and discipline. "[60] ThePortuguese soldiery in Ceylon, at the siege of Colombo, when pressedwith misery and the pangs of hunger, during their marches, derived notonly consolation, but also encouragement, by rehearsing the stanzas ofthe Lusiad. 

We ourselves have been a great ballad nation, and once abounded withsongs of the people; not, however, of this particular species, butrather of narrative poems. They are described by Puttenham, a critic inthe reign of Elizabeth, as "small and popular songs sung by those_Cantabanqui_, upon benches and barrels' heads, where they have no otheraudience than boys, or country fellows that pass by them in the streets;or else by blind harpers, or such like tavern minstrels, that give a fitof mirth for a groat. " Such were these "Reliques of Ancient EnglishPoetry, " which Selden collected, Pepys preserved, and Percy published. Ritson, our great poetical antiquary in these sort of things, says thatfew are older than the reign of James I. The more ancient songs of thepeople perished by having been printed in single sheets, and by theirhumble purchasers having no other library to preserve them than thewalls on which they pasted them. Those we have consist of a succeedingrace of ballads, chiefly revived or written by Richard Johnson, theauthor of the well-known romance of the Seven Champions, and Delony, thewriter of Jack of Newbury's Life, and the "Gentle Craft, " who lived inthe time of James and Charles. [61] One Martin Parker was a mostnotorious ballad scribbler in the reign of Charles I. And the Protector. 

These writers, in their old age, collected their songs into little pennybooks, called "Garlands, " some of which have been republished by Ritson;and a recent editor has well described them as "humble and amusingvillage strains, founded upon the squabbles of a wake, tales of untruelove, superstitious rumours, or miraculous traditions of the hamlet. "They enter into the picture of our manners, as much as folio chronicles. 

These songs abounded in the good old times of Elizabeth and James; forHall in his Satires notices them as

 Sung to the wheel, and sung unto the payle;

that is, sung by maidens spinning, or milking; and indeed Shakspeare haddescribed them as "old and plain, " chanted by

 The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their threads with bones. _Twelfth Night_. 

They were the favourites of the Poet of Nature, who takes everyopportunity to introduce them into the mouths of his clown, his fool, and his itinerant Autolycus. When the musical Dr. Burney, who hadprobably not the slightest conception of their nature, and perhaps aslittle taste for their rude and wild simplicity, ventured to call thesongs of Autolycus, "two _nonsensical_ songs, " the musician called downon himself one of the bitterest notes from Steevens that evercommentator penned against a profane scoffer. [62]

Whatever these songs were, it is evident they formed a source ofrecreation to the solitary task-worker. But as the more masculine tradeshad their own songs, whose titles only appear to have reached us, suchas "The Carman's Whistle, " "Watkin's Ale, " "Chopping Knives, " they wereprobably appropriated to the respective trades they indicate. The tuneof the "Carman's Whistle" was composed by Bird, and the favourite tuneof "Queen Elizabeth" may be found in the collection called "QueenElizabeth's Virginal Book. " One who has lately heard it played says, "that it has more air than the other execrable compositions in herMajesty's book, something resembling a French quadrille. "

The feeling our present researches would excite would naturally be moststrongly felt in small communities, where the interest of the governorsis to contribute to the individual happiness of the laborious classes. The Helvetic society requested Lavater to compose the_Schweitzerlieder_, or Swiss Songs, which are now sung by the youth ofmany of the cantons; and various Swiss poets have successfully composedon national subjects, associated with their best feelings. In suchpaternal governments as was that of Florence under the Medici, we findthat songs and dances for the people engaged the muse of Lorenzo, whocondescended to delight them with pleasant songs composed in popularlanguage; the example of such a character was followed by the men ofgenius of the age. These ancient songs, often adapted to the differenttrades, opened a vein of invention in the new characters, and allusions, the humorous equivoques, and, sometimes, by the licentiousness ofpopular fancy. They were collected in 1559, under the title of "CantiCarnascialeschi, " and there is a modern edition, in 1750, in two volumesquarto. It is said they sing to this day a popular one by Lorenzo, beginning

 Ben venga Maggio E 'l gonfalon selvaggio, [63]

which has all the florid brilliancy of an Italian spring. 

The most delightful songs of this nature would naturally be found amonga people whose climate and whose labours alike inspire a generalhilarity; and the vineyards of France have produced a class of songs, ofexcessive gaiety and freedom, called _Chansons de Vendange_. LeGrand-d'Assoucy describes them in his _Histoire de la Vie privée desFrançais_. "The men and women, each with a basket on their arm, assembleat the foot of the hill; there stopping, they arrange themselves in acircle. The chief of this band tunes up a joyous song, whose burthen ischorused: then they ascend, and, dispersed in the vineyard, they workwithout interrupting their tasks, while new couplets often resound fromsome of the vine-dressers; sometimes intermixed with a sudden jest at atraveller. In the evening, their supper scarcely over, their joyrecommences, they dance in a circle, and sing some of those songs offree gaiety, which the moment excuses, known by the name of _vineyardsongs_. The gaiety becomes general; masters, guests, friends, servants, all dance together; and in this manner a day of labour terminates, whichone might mistake for a day of diversion. It is what I have witnessed inChampagne, in a land of vines, far different from the country where thelabours of the harvest form so painful a contrast. "

The extinction of those songs which formerly kept alive the gaiety ofthe domestic circle, whose burthens were always chorused, is lamented bythe French antiquary. "Our fathers had a custom to amuse themselves atthe dessert of a feast by a joyous song of this nature. Each in his turnsung--all chorused. " This ancient gaiety was sometimes gross and noisy;but he prefers it to the tame decency of our times--these smiling, notlaughing days of Lord Chesterfield. 

 On ne rit plus, on sourit aujourd'hui; Et nos plaisirs sont voisins de l'ennui. 

These are the old French _Vaudevilles_, formerly sung at meals by thecompany. Count de Grammont is mentioned by Hamilton as being

 Agréable et vif en propos; Célèbre diseur de bon mots, _Recueil vivant d'antiques Vaudevilles_. 

These _Vaudevilles_ were originally invented by a fuller of _Vau deVire_, or the valley by the river _Vire_, and were sung by his men asthey spread their cloths on the banks of the river. They were songscomposed on some incident or adventure of the day. At first these gayplayful effusions were called the songs of _Vau de Vire_, till theybecame known as _Vaudevilles_. Boileau has well described them:--

 La liberté franchise en ses vers se déploie; Cet enfant de plaisir veut naître dans la joie. 

It is well known how the attempt ended, of James I. And his unfortunateson, by the publication of their "Book of Sports, " to preserve thenational character from the gloom of fanatical puritanism; among itsunhappy effects there was however one not a little ludicrous. ThePuritans, offended by the gentlest forms of mirth, and every daybecoming more sullen, were so shocked at the simple merriment of thepeople, that they contrived to parody these songs into spiritual ones;and Shakspeare speaks of the Puritan of his day "singing psalms tohornpipes. " As Puritans are the same in all times, the Methodists in ourown repeated the foolery, and set their hymns to popular tunes and jigs, which one of them said "were too good for the devil. " They have sunghymns to the air of "The beds of sweet roses, " &c. Wesley once, in thepulpit, described himself, in his old age, in the well known ode ofAnacreon, by merely substituting his own name![64] There have beenPuritans among other people as well as our own: the same occurrence tookplace both in Italy and France. In Italy, the Carnival songs were turnedinto pious hymns; the hymn _Jesu fammi morire_ is sung to the music of_Vaga bella e gentile_--_Crucifisso a capo chino_ to that of _Una donnad'amor fino_, one of the most indecent pieces in the _Canzoni a ballo_;and the hymn beginning

 Ecco 'l Messia E la Madre Maria, was sung to the gay tune of Lorenzo de' Medici, Ben venga Maggio, E 'l gonfalon selvaggio. 

Athenæus notices what we call slang or flash songs. He tells us thatthere were poets who composed songs in the dialect of the mob; and whosucceeded in this kind of poetry, adapted to their various characters. The French call such songs _Chansons à la Vadé_; the style of the_Poissardes_ is ludicrously applied to the gravest matters of state, andconvey the popular feelings in the language of the populace. This sortof satirical song is happily defined, Il est l'esprit de ceux qui n'en ont pas. 

Athenæus has also preserved songs, sung by petitioners who went about onholidays to collect alms. A friend of mine, with taste and learning, hasdiscovered in his researches "The Crow Song" and "The Swallow Song, " andhas transfused their spirit in a happy version. I preserve a fewstriking ideas. 

The collectors for "The Crow" sung:

 My good worthy masters, a pittance bestow, Some oatmeal, or barley, or wheat for _the Crow_. A loaf, or a penny, or e'en what you will;-- From the poor man, a grain of his salt may suffice, For your Crow swallows all, and is not over-nice. And the man who can now give his grain, and no more, May another day give from a plentiful store. -- Come, my lad, to the door, Plutus nods to our wish, And our sweet little mistress comes out with a dish; She gives us her figs, and she gives us a smile-- Heaven send her a husband!-- And a boy to be danced on his grandfather's knee, And a girl like herself all the joy of her mother, Who may one day present her with just such another. Thus we carry our Crow-song to door after door, Alternately chanting we ramble along, And we treat all who give, or give not, with a song. 

Swallow-singing, or Chelidonising, as the Greek term is, was anothermethod of collecting eleemosynary gifts, which took place in the monthBoedromion, or August. 

 The Swallow, the Swallow is here, With his back so black, and his belly so white, He brings on the pride of the year, With the gay months of love, and the days of delight. Come bring out your good humming stuff, Of the nice tit-bits let the Swallow partake; And a slice of the right Boedromion cake. So give, and give quickly, -- Or we'll pull down the door from its hinges: Or we'll steal young madam away! But see! we're a merry boy's party, And the Swallow, the Swallow is here!

These songs resemble those of our own ancient mummers, who to this day, in honour of Bishop Blaize, the Saint of Woolcombers, go about chantingon the eves of their holidays. [65] A custom long existed in this countryto elect a Boy-Bishop in almost every parish;[66] the Montem at Etonstill prevails for the Boy-Captain; and there is a closer connexion, perhaps, between the custom which produced the "Songs of the Crow andthe Swallow, " and our Northern mummeries, than may be at firstsuspected. The Pagan Saturnalia, which the Swallow song by its pleasantmenaces resembles, were afterwards disguised in the forms adopted by theearly Christians; and such are the remains of the Roman Catholicreligion, in which the people were long indulged in their old taste formockery and mummery. I must add in connexion with our main inquiry, thatour own ancient beggars had their songs, in their old cant language, some of which are as old as the Elizabethan period, and many arefancifully characteristic of their habits and their feelings. 

INTRODUCERS OF EXOTIC FLOWERS, FRUITS, ETC. 

There has been a class of men whose patriotic affection, or whosegeneral benevolence, have been usually defrauded of the gratitude theircountry owes them: these have been the introducers of new flowers, newplants, and new roots into Europe; the greater part which we now enjoywas drawn from the luxuriant climates of Asia, and the profusion whichnow covers our land originated in the most anxious nursing, and were thegifts of individuals. Monuments are reared, and medals struck, tocommemorate events and names, which are less deserving our regard thanthose who have transplanted into the colder gardens of the North therich fruits, the beautiful flowers, and the succulent pulse and roots ofmore favoured spots; and carrying into their own country, as it were, another Nature, they have, as old Gerard well expresses it, "labouredwith the soil to make it fit for the plants, and with the plants to makethem delight in the soil. "

There is no part of the characters of PEIRESC and EVELYN, accomplishedas they are in so many, which seems more delightful to me, than theirenthusiasm for the garden, the orchard, and the forest. 

PEIRESC, whose literary occupations admitted of no interruption, andwhose universal correspondence throughout the habitable globe was morethan sufficient to absorb his studious life, yet was the first man, asGassendus relates in his interesting manner, whose incessant inquiriesprocured a great variety of jessamines; those from China, whose leaves, always green, bear a clay-coloured flower, and a delicate perfume; theAmerican, with a crimson-coloured, and the Persian, with aviolet-coloured flower; and the Arabian, whose tendrils he delighted totrain over "the banqueting-house in his garden;" and of fruits, theorange-trees with a red and parti-coloured flower; the medlar; the roughcherry without stone; the rare and luxurious vines of Smyrna andDamascus; and the fig-tree called Adam's, whose fruit by its size wasconjectured to be that with which the spies returned from the land ofCanaan. Gassendus describes the transports of Peiresc, when, the sagebeheld the Indian ginger growing green in his garden, and his delight ingrafting the myrtle on the musk vine, that the experiment might show usthe myrtle wine of the ancients. But transplanters, like otherinventors, are sometimes baffled in their delightful enterprises; andwe are told of Peiresc's deep regret when he found that the Indiancocoa-nut would only bud, and then perish in the cold air of France, while the leaves of the Egyptian papyrus refused to yield him theirvegetable paper. But it was his garden which propagated the exoticfruits and flowers, which he transplanted into the French king's, andinto Cardinal Barberini's, and the curious in Europe; and theseoccasioned a work on the manuring of flowers by Ferrarius, a botanicalJesuit, who there described these novelties to Europe. 

Had Evelyn only composed the great work of his "Sylva, or a Discourse ofForest Trees, " his name would have excited the gratitude of posterity. The voice of the patriot exults in the dedication to Charles II. Prefixed to one of the later editions. "I need not acquaint yourmajesty, how many millions of timber-trees, besides infinite others, have been propagated and planted throughout your vast dominions, at theinstigation and by the sole direction of this work, because your majestyhas been pleased to own it publicly for my encouragement. " And surelywhile Britain retains her awful situation among the nations of Europe, the "Sylva" of Evelyn will endure with her triumphant oaks. It was aretired philosopher who aroused the genius of the nation, and who, casting a prophetic eye towards the age in which we live, contributed tosecure our sovereignty of the seas. The present navy of Great Britainhas been constructed with the oaks which the genius of Evelyn planted!

Animated by a zeal truly patriotic, De Serres in France, 1599, composeda work on the art of raising silk-worms, and dedicated it to themunicipal body of Paris, to excite the inhabitants to cultivatemulberry-trees. The work at first produced a strong sensation, and manyplanted mulberry-trees in the vicinity of Paris; but as they were notyet used to raise and manage the silk-worm, they reaped nothing buttheir trouble for their pains. They tore up the mulberry-trees they hadplanted, and, in spite of De Serres, asserted that the northern climatewas not adapted for the rearing of that tender insect. The great Sully, from his hatred of all objects of luxury, countenanced the popularclamour, and crushed the rising enterprise of De Serres. The monarch waswiser than the minister. The book had made sufficient noise to reach theear of Henry IV. ; who desired the author to draw up a memoir on thesubject, from which the king was induced to plant mulberry-trees in allthe royal gardens; and having imported the eggs of silk-worms fromSpain, this patriotic monarch gave up his orangeries, which heconsidered but as his private gratification, for that leaf which, converted into silk, became a part of the national wealth. It is to DeSerres, who introduced the plantations of mulberry-trees, that thecommerce of France owes one of her staple commodities; and although thepatriot encountered the hostility of the prime minister, and the hastyprejudices of the populace in his own day, yet his name at this momentis fresh in the hearts of his fellow-citizens; for I have just receiveda medal, the gift of a literary friend from Paris, which bears hisportrait, with the reverse, "_Société de Agriculture du Département dela Seine_. " It was struck in 1807. The same honour is the right ofEvelyn from the British nation. 

There was a period when the spirit of plantation was prevalent in thiskingdom; it probably originated from the ravages of the soldiery duringthe civil wars. A man, whose retired modesty has perhaps obscured hisclaims on our regard, the intimate friend of the great spirits of thatage, by birth a Pole, but whose mother had probably been anEnglishwoman, Samuel Hartlib, to whom Milton addressed his tract oneducation, published every manuscript he collected on the subjects ofhorticulture and agriculture. The public good he effected attracted thenotice of Cromwell, who rewarded him with a pension, which after therestoration of Charles II. Was suffered to lapse, and Hartlib died inutter neglect and poverty. One of his tracts is "A design for plenty byan universal planting of fruit-trees. " The project consisted ininclosing the waste lands and commons, and appointing officers, whom hecalls fruiterers, or wood-wards, to see the plantations were dulyattended to. The writer of this project observes on fruits, that it is asort of provisions so natural to the taste, that the poor man and eventhe child will prefer it before better food, "as the story goeth, " whichhe has preserved in these ancient and simple lines:--

 The poor man's child invited was to dine, With flesh of oxen, sheep, and fatted swine, (Far better cheer than he at home could find, ) And yet this child to stay had little minde. "You have, " quoth he, "no apple, froise, nor pie, Stewed pears, with bread and milk, and walnuts by. "

The enthusiasm of these transplanters inspired their labours. They havewatched the tender infant of their planting, till the leaf and theflowers and the fruit expanded under their hand; often indeed they haveameliorated the quality, increased the size, and even created a newspecies. The apricot, drawn from America, was first known in Europe inthe sixteenth century: an old French writer has remarked, that it wasoriginally not larger than a damson; our gardeners, he says, haveimproved it to the perfection of its present size and richness. One ofthese enthusiasts is noticed by Evelyn, who for forty years had in vaintried by a graft to bequeath his name to a new fruit; but persisting onwrong principles this votary of Pomona has died without a name. Wesympathise with Sir William Temple when he exultingly acquaints us withthe size of his orange-trees, and with the flavour of his peaches andgrapes, confessed by Frenchmen to have equalled those of Fontainebleauand Gascony, while the Italians agreed that his white figs were as goodas any of that sort in Italy; and of his "having had the honour" tonaturalise in this country four kinds of grapes, with his liberaldistributions of cuttings from them, because "he ever thought all thingsof this kind the commoner they are the better. "

The greater number of our exotic flowers and fruits were carefullytransported into this country by many of our travelled nobility andgentry;[67] some names have been casually preserved. The learned Linacrefirst brought, on his return from Italy, the damask rose; and ThomasLord Cornwall, in the reign of Henry VIII. , enriched our fruit gardenswith three different plums. In the reign of Elizabeth, Edward Grindal, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, returning from exile, transportedhere the medicinal plant of the tamarisk: the first oranges appear tohave been brought into England by one of the Carew family; for a centuryafter, they still flourished at the family seat at Beddington, inSurrey. The cherry orchards of Kent were first planted aboutSittingbourne, by a gardener of Henry VIII. ; and the currant-bush wastransplanted when our commerce with the island of Zante was first openedin the same reign. The elder Tradescant, in 1620, entered himself onboard of a privateer, armed against Morocco, solely with a view offinding an opportunity of stealing apricots into Britain: and it appearsthat he succeeded in his design. To Sir Walter Raleigh we have not beenindebted solely for the luxury of the tobacco-plant, but for thatinfinitely useful root, which forms a part of our daily meal, and oftenthe entire meal of the poor man--the potato, which deserved to have beencalled a _Rawleigh_. Sir Anthony Ashley, of Winburne St. Giles, Dorsetshire, first planted cabbages in this country, and a cabbage athis feet appears on his monument: before his time we had them fromHolland. Sir Richard Weston first brought clover grass into England fromFlanders, in 1645; and the figs planted by Cardinal Pole at Lambeth, sofar back as the reign of Henry VIII. , are said to be still remainingthere: nor is this surprising, for Spilman, who set up the firstpaper-mill in England, at Dartford, in 1590, is said to have broughtover in his portmanteau the two first lime-trees, which he planted here, and which are still growing. The Lombardy poplar was introduced intoEngland by the Earl of Rochford, in 1758. The first mulberry-trees inthis country are now standing at Sion-house. By an Harleian MS. 6884, wefind that the first general planting of mulberries and making of silk inEngland was by William Stallenge, comptroller of the custom-house, andMonsieur Verton, in 1608. It is probable that Monsieur Vertontransplanted this novelty from his own country, where we have seen DeSerres' great attempt. Here the mulberries have succeeded better thanthe silk-worms. 

The very names of many of our vegetable kingdom indicate their locality, from the majestic cedar of Lebanon, to the small Cos-lettuce, which camefrom the isle of Cos; the cherries from Cerasuntis, a city of Pontus;the peach, or _persicum_, or _mala Persica_, Persian apples, fromPersia; the pistachio, or _psittacia_, is the Syrian word for that nut. The chestnut, or _chataigne_ in French, and _castagna_ in Italian, fromCastagna, a town of Magnesia. Our plums coming chiefly from Syria andDamascus, the damson, or damascene plum, reminds us of its distantorigin. 

It is somewhat curious to observe on this subject, that there exists anunsuspected intercourse between nations, in the propagation of exoticplants. Lucullus, after the war with Mithridates, introduced cherriesfrom Pontus into Italy; and the newly-imported fruit was found sopleasing, that it was rapidly propagated, and six-and twenty yearsafterwards Pliny testifies the cherry-tree passed over into Britain. Thus a victory obtained by a Roman consul over a king of Pontus, withwhich it would seem that Britain could not have the remotest interest, was the real occasion of our countrymen possessing cherry-orchards. Yetto our shame must it be told, that these cherries from the king ofPontus's city of Cerasuntis are not the cherries we are now eating; forthe whole race of cherry-trees was lost in the Saxon period, and wasonly restored by the gardener of Henry VIII. , who brought them fromFlanders--without a word to enhance his own merits, concerning the_bellum Mithridaticum_!

A calculating political economist will little sympathise with thepeaceful triumphs of those active and generous spirits, who have thuspropagated the truest wealth, and the most innocent luxuries of thepeople. The project of a new tax, or an additional consumption of ardentspirits, or an act of parliament to put a convenient stop to populationby forbidding the banns of some happy couple, would be more congenial totheir researches; and they would leave without regret the names of thosewhom we have held out to the grateful recollections of their country. The Romans, who, with all their errors, were at least patriots, entertained very different notions of these introducers into theircountry of exotic fruits and flowers. Sir William Temple has elegantlynoticed the fact. "The great captains, and even consular men, who firstbrought them over, took pride in giving them their own names, by whichthey ran a great while in Rome, as in memory of some great service orpleasure they had done their country; so that not only laws and battles, but several sorts of apples and pears, were called Manlian and Claudian, Pompeyan and Tiberian, and by several other such noble names. " Pliny haspaid his tribute of applause to Lucullus, for bringing cherry andnut-trees from Pontus into Italy. And we have several modern instances, where the name of the transplanter, or rearer, has been preserved inthis sort of creation. Peter Collinson, the botanist, to "whom theEnglish gardens are indebted for many new and curious species which heacquired by means of an extensive correspondence in America, " was highlygratified when Linnæus baptized a plant with his name; and with greatspirit asserts his honourable claim: "Something, I think, was due to mefor the great number of plants and seeds I have annually procured fromabroad, and you have been so good as to pay it, by giving me a speciesof eternity, botanically speaking; that is, a name as long as men andbooks endure. " Such is the true animating language of these patrioticenthusiasts!

Some lines at the close of Peacham's Emblems give an idea of an Englishfruit-garden in 1612. He mentions that cherries were not long known, [68]and gives an origin to the name of filbert. 

 The Persian Peach, and fruitful Quince;[69] And there the forward Almond grew, With Cherries knowne no longer time since; The Winter Warden, orchard's pride; The _Philibert_[70] that loves the vale, And red queen apple, [71] so envide Of school-boies, passing by the pale. 

USURERS OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 

A person whose history will serve as a canvass to exhibit some scenes ofthe arts of the money-trader was one AUDLEY, a lawyer, and a greatpractical philosopher, who concentrated his vigorous faculties in thescience of the relative value of money. He flourished through the reignsof James I. , Charles I. , and held a lucrative office in the "court ofwards, " till that singular court was abolished at the time of theRestoration. [72] In his own times he was called "The great Audley, " anepithet so often abused, and here applied to the creation of enormouswealth. But there are minds of great capacity, concealed by the natureof their pursuits; and the wealth of Audley may be considered as thecloudy medium through which a bright genius shone, and which, had itbeen thrown into a nobler sphere of action, the "greatness" would havebeen less ambiguous. 

Audley lived at a time when divines were proclaiming "the detestable sinof Usury, " prohibited by God and man; but the Mosaic prohibition was themunicipal law of an agricultural commonwealth, which being withouttrade, the general poverty of its members could afford no interest forloans; but it was not forbidden the Israelite to take usury from "thestranger. " Or they were quoting from the Fathers, who understood thispoint, much as they had that of "original sin, " and "the immaculateconception;" while the scholastics amused themselves with a quaint andcollegiate fancy which they had picked up in Aristotle, that interestfor money had been forbidden by nature, because coin in itself wasbarren and unpropagating, unlike corn, of which every grain will producemany. But Audley considered no doubt that money was not incapable ofmultiplying itself, provided it was in hands which knew to make it growand "breed, " as Shylock affirmed. The lawyers then, however, did notagree with the divines, nor the college philosophers; they werestraining at a more liberal interpretation of this odious term "Usury. "Lord Bacon declared, that the suppression of Usury is only fit for anUtopian government; and Audley must have agreed with the learned Cowell, who in his "Interpreter" derives the term ab _usu_ et _ære_, quasi _usuæra_, which in our vernacular style was corrupted into _Usury_. Whateverthe _sin_ might be in the eye of some, it had become at least a_controversial sin_, as Sir Symonds D'Ewes calls it, in his manuscriptDiary, who, however, was afraid to commit it. [73] Audley, no doubt, considered that _interest_ was nothing more than _rent_ for _money_; as_rent_ was no better than _Usury_ for _land_. The legal interest wasthen "ten in the hundred;" but the thirty, the fifty, and the hundredfor the hundred, the gripe of Usury, and the shameless contrivances ofthe money-traders, these he would attribute to the follies of others, orto his own genius. 

This sage on the wealth of nations, with his pithy wisdom and quaintsagacity, began with two hundred pounds, and lived to view hismortgages, his statutes, and his judgments so numerous, that it wasobserved his papers would have made a good map of England. Acontemporary dramatist, who copied from life, has opened the chamber ofsuch an Usurer, --perhaps of our Audley. 

 ---- Here lay A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment, The wax continuing hard, the acres melting; Here a sure deed of gift for a market-town, If not redeem'd this day, which is not in The unthrift's power; there being scarce one shire In Wales or England, where my monies are not Lent out at usury, the certain hook To draw in more. MASSINGER'S _City Madam_. 

This genius of thirty per cent. First had proved the decided vigour ofhis mind, by his enthusiastic devotion to his law-studies: deprived ofthe leisure for study through his busy day, he stole the hours from hislate nights and his early mornings; and without the means to procure alaw-library, he invented a method to possess one without the cost; asfar as he learned, he taught, and by publishing some useful tracts ontemporary occasions, he was enabled to purchase a library. He appearsnever to have read a book without its furnishing him with some newpractical design, and he probably studied too much for his ownparticular advantage. Such devoted studies was the way to become alord-chancellor; but the science of the law was here subordinate to thatof a money-trader. 

When yet but a clerk to the Clerk in the Counter, frequent opportunitiesoccurred which Audley knew how to improve. He became a money-trader ashe had become a law-writer, and the fears and follies of mankind were tofurnish him with a trading capital. The fertility of his genius appearedin expedients and in quick contrivances. He was sure to be the friend ofall men falling out. He took a deep concern in the affairs of hismaster's clients, and often much more than they were aware of. No man soready at procuring bail or compounding debts. This was a considerabletraffic then, as now. They hired themselves out for bail, swore what wasrequired, and contrived to give false addresses, which is now calledleg-bail. They dressed themselves out for the occasion; a greatseal-ring flamed on the finger, which, however, was pure copper gilt, and they often assumed the name of some person of good credit. Savings, and small presents for gratuitous opinions, often afterwards discoveredto be very fallacious ones, enabled him to purchase annuities of easylandowners, with their treble amount secured on their estates. Theimprovident owners, or the careless heirs, were soon entangled in theusurer's nets; and, after the receipt of a few years, the annuity, bysome latent quibble, or some irregularity in the payments, usually endedin Audley's obtaining the treble forfeiture. He could at all timesout-knave a knave. One of these incidents has been preserved. A draper, of no honest reputation, being arrested by a merchant for a debt of£200, Audley bought the debt at £40, for which the draper immediatelyoffered him £50. But Audley would not consent, unless the draperindulged a sudden whim of his own: this was a formal contract, that thedraper should pay within twenty years, upon twenty certain days, a pennydoubled. A knave, in haste to sign, is no calculator; and, as thecontemporary dramatist describes one of the arts of those citizens, onepart of whose business was

 To swear and break: they all grow rich by breaking!

the draper eagerly compounded. He afterwards "grew rich. " Audley, silently watching his victim, within two years, claims his doubledpennies, every month during twenty months. The pennies had now grown upto pounds. The knave perceived the trick, and preferred paying theforfeiture of his bond for £500, rather than to receive the visitationof all the little generation of compound interest in the last descendantof £2000, which would have closed with the draper's shop. The inventivegenius of Audley might have illustrated that popular tract of his owntimes, Peacham's "Worth of a Penny;" a gentleman who, having scarcelyone left, consoled himself by detailing the numerous comforts of life itmight procure in the days of Charles II. 

Such petty enterprises at length assumed a deeper cast of interest. Heformed temporally partnerships with the stewards of country gentlemen. They underlet estates which they had to manage; and anticipating theowner's necessities, the estates in due time became cheap purchases forAudley and the stewards. He usually contrived to make the wood pay forthe land, which he called "making the feathers pay for the goose. " Hehad, however, such a tenderness of conscience for his victim, that, having plucked the live feathers before he sent the unfledged goose onthe common, he would bestow a gratuitous lecture in his ownscience--teaching the art of making them grow again, by showing how toraise the remaining rents. Audley thus made the tenant furnish at oncethe means to satisfy his own rapacity, and his employer's necessities. His avarice was not working by a blind, but on an enlightened principle;for he was only enabling the landlord to obtain what the tenant, withdue industry, could afford to give. Adam Smith might have deliveredhimself in the language of old Audley, so just was his standard of thevalue of rents. "Under an easy landlord, " said Audley, "a tenant seldomthrives; contenting himself to make the just measure of his rents, andnot labouring for any surplusage of estate. Under a hard one, the tenantrevenges himself upon the land, and runs away with the rent. I wouldraise my rents to the present price of all commodities: for if we shouldlet our lands, as other men have done before us, now other wares dailygo on in price, we should fall backward in our estates. " These axioms ofpolitical economy were discoveries in his day. 

Audley knew mankind practically, and struck into their humours with theversatility of genius: oracularly deep with the grave, he only stung thelighter mind. When a lord borrowing money complained to Audley of hisexactions, his lordship exclaimed, "What, do you not intend to use aconscience?" "Yes, I intend hereafter to use it. We moneyed people mustbalance accounts: if you do not pay me, you cheat me; but, if you do, then I cheat your lordship. " Audley's moneyed conscience balanced therisk of his lordship's honour against the probability of his ownrapacious profits. When he resided in the Temple among those "pulletswithout feathers, " as an old writer describes the brood, the good manwould pule out paternal homilies on improvident youth, grieving thatthey, under pretence of "learning the law, only learnt to be lawless;"and "never knew by their own studies the process of an execution, tillit was served on themselves. " Nor could he fail in his prophecy; for atthe moment that the stoic was enduring their ridicule, his agents weresupplying them with the certain means of verifying it. It is quaintlysaid, he had his _decoying_ as well as his _decaying_ gentlemen. 

The arts practised by the money-traders of that time have been detailedby one of the town-satirists of the age. Decker, in his "EnglishVillanies, " has told the story: we may observe how an old story containsmany incidents which may be discovered in a modern one. The artifice ofcovering the usury by a pretended purchase and sale of certain wares, even now practised, was then at its height. 

In _Measure for Measure_ we find, "Here's young Master Rash, he's in for a commodity of _brown paper and old ginger_, nine score and seventeen pounds; of which he made five marks ready money. "

The eager "gull, " for his immediate wants, takes at an immense price anygoods on credit, which he immediately resells for less than half thecost; and when despatch presses, the vender and the purchaser have beenthe same person, and the "brown paper and old ginger" merelynominal. [74]

The whole displays a complete system of dupery, and the agents weregraduated. "The Manner of undoing Gentlemen by taking up ofCommodities, " is the title of a chapter in "English Villanies. " The"warren" is the cant term which describes the whole party; but thisrequires a word of explanation. 

It is probable that rabbit-warrens were numerous about the metropolis, acircumstance which must have multiplied the poachers. Moffet, who wroteon diet in the reign of Elizabeth, notices their plentiful supply "forthe poor's maintenance. "--I cannot otherwise account for theappellatives given to sharpers, and the terms of cheatery being sofamiliarly drawn from a rabbit-warren; not that even in that day thesecant terms travelled far out of their own circle; for Robert Greenementions a trial in which the judges, good simple men! imagined that theconey-catcher at the bar was a warrener, or one who had the care of awarren. 

The cant term of "warren" included the young coneys, or half-ruinedprodigals of that day, with the younger brothers, who had accomplishedtheir ruin; these naturally herded together, as the pigeon and theblack-leg of the present day. The coney-catchers were those who raised atrade on their necessities. To be "conie-catched" was to be cheated. Thewarren forms a combination altogether, to attract some novice, who in_esse_ or in _posse_ has his present means good, and those to comegreat; he is very glad to learn how money can be raised. The warren seekafter a _tumbler_, a sort of hunting dog; and the nature of a Londontumbler was to "hunt dry-foot, " in this manner:--"The tumbler is letloose, and runs snuffing up and down in the shops of mercers, goldsmiths, drapers, haberdashers, to meet with a _ferret_, that is, acitizen who is ready to sell a commodity. " The tumbler in his firstcourse usually returned in despair, pretending to have out-weariedhimself by hunting, and swears that the city ferrets are so coaped (thatis, have their lips stitched up close) that he can't get them to open toso great a sum as £500, which the warren wants. "This herb being cheweddown by the rabbit-suckers, almost kills their hearts. It irritatestheir appetite, and they keenly bid the tumbler, if he can't fasten onplate, or cloth, or silks, to lay hold of _brown paper_, _Bartholomewbabies_, _lute-strings_, or _hob-nails_. It hath been verily reported, "says Decker, "that one gentleman of great hopes took up £100 inhobby-horses, and sold them for £30; and £16 in joints of mutton andquarters of lamb, ready roasted, and sold them for three pounds. " Suchcommodities were called _purse-nets_. --The tumbler, on his second hunt, trots up and down again; and at last lights on a _ferret_ that willdeal: the names are given in to a scrivener, who inquires whether theyare good men, and finds four out of the five are wind-shaken, but thefifth is an oak that can bear the hewing. "Bonds are sealed, commoditiesdelivered, and the tumbler fetches his second career; and their credithaving obtained the purse-nets, the wares must now obtain money. " The_tumbler_ now hunts for the _rabbit suckers_, those who buy these_purse-nets_; but the _rabbit-suckers_ seem greater devils than the_ferrets_, for they always bid under; and after many exclamations the_warren_ is glad that the seller should repurchase his own commoditiesfor ready money, at thirty or fifty _per cent. _ under the cost. Thestory does not finish till we come to the manner "How the warren isspoiled. " I shall transcribe this part of the narrative in the livelystyle of this town writer. "While there is any grass to nibble upon, therabbits are there; but on the cold day of repayment they retire intotheir caves; so that when the _ferret_ makes account of _five_ in chase, four disappear. Then he grows fierce, and tears open his own jaws tosuck blood from him that is left. Serjeants, marshalmen, and bailiffsare sent forth, who lie scenting at every corner, and with terrible pawshaunt every walk. The bird is seized upon by these hawks, his estatelooked into, his wings broken, his lands made over to a stranger. Hepays £500, who never had but £60, or to prison; or he seals any bond, mortgages any lordship, does anything, yields anything. A little way in, he cares not how far he wades; the greater his possessions are, theapter he is to take up and to be trusted--thus gentlemen are _ferretted_and undone!" It is evident that the whole system turns on the singlenovice; those who join him in his bonds are stalking horses; the wholewas to begin and to end with the single individual, the great coney ofthe warren. Such was the nature of those "commodities" to whichMassinger and Shakspeare allude, and which the modern dramatist mayexhibit in his comedy, and be still sketching after life. 

Another scene, closely connected with the present, will complete thepicture. "The Ordinaries" of those days were the lounging places of themen of the town, and the "fantastic gallants, " who herded together. [75]Ordinaries were the "exchange for news, " the echoing places for allsorts of town-talk: there they might hear of the last new play and poem, and the last fresh widow, who was sighing for some knight to make her alady; these resorts were attended also "to save charges ofhousekeeping. " The reign of James I. Is characterised by all thewantonness of prodigality among one class, and all the penuriousness andrapacity in another, which met in the dissolute indolence of a peace oftwenty years. But a more striking feature in these "Ordinaries" showeditself as soon as "the voyder had cleared the table. " Then began "theshuffling and cutting on one side, and the bones rattling on the other. "The "Ordinarie, " in fact, was a gambling-house, like those nowexpressively termed "Hells, " and I doubt if the present "Infernos"exceed the whole _diablerie_ of our ancestors. 

In the former scene of sharping they derived their cant terms from arabbit-warren, but in the present their allusions partly relate to anaviary, and truly the proverb suited them, "of birds of a feather. "Those who first propose to sit down to play are called the _leaders_;the ruined gamesters are the _forlorn-hope_; the great winner is the_eagle_; a stander-by, who encourages, by little ventures himself, thefreshly-imported gallant, who is called the _gull_, is the_wood-pecker_; and a monstrous bird of prey, who is always hoveringround the table, is the _gull-groper_, who, at a pinch, is thebenevolent Audley of the Ordinary. 

There was, besides, one other character of an original cast, apparentlythe friend of none of the party, and yet in fact, "the Atlas whichsupported the Ordinarie on his shoulders:" he was sometimessignificantly called the _impostor_. 

The _gull_ is a young man whose father, a citizen or a squire, justdead, leaves him "ten or twelve thousand pounds in ready money, besidessome hundreds a-year. " Scouts are sent out, and lie in ambush for him;they discover what "apothecarie's shop he resorts to every morning, orin what tobacco-shop in Fleet-street he takes a pipe of smoke in theafternoon;" the usual resorts of the loungers of that day. Some sharpwit of the Ordinarie, a pleasant fellow, whom Robert Greene calls the"taker-up, " one of universal conversation, lures the heir of sevenhundred a-year to "The Ordinarie. " A _gull_ sets the whole aviary inspirits; and Decker well describes the flutter of joy and expectation:"The _leaders_ maintained themselves brave; the _forlorn-hope_, thatdrooped before, doth now gallantly come on; the _eagle_ feathers hisnest; the _wood-pecker_ picks up the crumbs; the _gull-groper_ grows fatwith good feeding; and the _gull_ himself, at whom every one has a pull, hath in the end scarce feathers to keep his back warm. "

During the _gull's_ progress through Primero and Gleek, [76] he wantsfor no admirable advice and solemn warnings from two excellent friends;the _gull-groper_, and at length, the _impostor_. The _gull-groper_, whoknows, "to half an acre, " all his means, takes the _gull_ when out ofluck to a side-window, and in a whisper talks of "dice being made ofwomen's bones, which would cozen any man:" but he pours his gold on theboard; and a bond is rapturously signed for the next quarter-day. Butthe _gull-groper_, by a variety of expedients, avoids having the bondduly discharged; he contrives to get a judgment, and a serjeant with hismace procures the forfeiture of the bond; the treble value. But the"impostor" has none of the milkiness of the "_gull-groper_"--he looksfor no favour under heaven from any man; he is bluff with all theOrdinarie; he spits at random; jingles his spurs into any man's cloak;and his "humour" is, to be a devil of a dare-all. All fear him as thetyrant they must obey. The tender _gull_ trembles, and admires thisroysterer's valour. At length the devil he feared becomes his champion;and the poor _gull_, proud of his intimacy, hides himself under this_eagle's_ wings. 

The _impostor_ sits close by his elbow, takes a partnership in his game, furnishes the stakes when out of luck, and in truth does not care howfast the gull loses; for a twirl of his mustachio, a tip of his nose, ora wink of his eye, drives all the losses of the gull into the profits ofthe grand confederacy at the Ordinarie. And when the impostor has foughtthe gull's quarrels many a time, at last he kicks up the table; and thegull sinks himself into the class of the forlorn-hope; he lives at themercy of his late friends the gull-groper and the impostor, who send himout to lure some tender bird in feather. 

Such were the _hells_ of our ancestors, from which our worthies mighttake a lesson; and the "warren" in which the Audleys were theconie-catchers. 

But to return to our Audley; this philosophical usurer never pressedhard for his debts; like the fowler, he never shook his nets lest hemight startle, satisfied to have them, without appearing to hold them. With great fondness he compared his "bonds to infants, which battle bestby sleeping. " To battle is to be nourished, a term still retained at theUniversity of Oxford. His familiar companions were all subordinateactors in the great piece he was performing; he too had his part in thescene. When not taken by surprise, on his table usually lay open a greatBible, with Bishop Andrews's folio Sermons, which often gave him anopportunity of railing at the covetousness of the clergy; declaringtheir religion was "a mere preach, " and that "the time would never bewell till we had Queen Elizabeth's Protestants again in fashion. " He wasaware of all the evils arising out of a population beyond the means ofsubsistence, and dreaded an inundation of men, spreading like the spawnof cod. Hence he considered marriage, with a modern political economist, as very dangerous; bitterly censuring the clergy, whose children, hesaid, never thrived, and whose widows were left destitute. Anapostolical life, according to Audley, required only books, meat, anddrink, to be had for fifty pounds a year! Celibacy, voluntary poverty, and all the mortifications of a primitive Christian, were the virtuespractised by this puritan among his money bags. 

Yet Audley's was that worldly wisdom which derives all its strength fromthe weaknesses of mankind. Everything was to be obtained by stratagem;and it was his maxim, that to grasp our object the faster, we must go alittle round about it. His life is said to have been one of intricaciesand mysteries, using indirect means in all things; but if he walked in alabyrinth, it was to bewilder others; for the clue was still in his ownhand; all he sought was that his designs should not be discovered by hisactions. His word, we are told, was his bond; his hour was punctual; andhis opinions were compressed and weighty: but if he was true to hisbond-word, it was only a part of the system to give facility to thecarrying on of his trade, for he was not strict to his honour; the prideof victory, as well as the passion for acquisition, combined in thecharacter of Audley, as in more tremendous conquerors. His partnersdreaded the effects of his law-library, and usually relinquished a claimrather than stand a latent suit against a quibble. When one menaced himby showing some money-bags, which he had resolved to empty in lawagainst him, Audley then in office in the court of wards, with asarcastic grin, asked "Whether the bags had any bottom?" "Ay!" repliedthe exulting possessor, striking them. "In that case, I care not, "retorted the cynical officer of the court of wards; "for in this court Ihave a constant spring; and I cannot spend in other courts more than Igain in this. " He had at once the meanness which would evade the law, and the spirit which could resist it. 

The genius of Audley had crept out of the purlieus of Guildhall, andentered the Temple; and having often sauntered at "Powles" down thegreat promenade which was reserved for "Duke Humphrey and hisguests, "[77] he would turn into that part called "The Usurer's Alley, "to talk with "Thirty in the hundred, " and at length was enabled topurchase his office at that remarkable institution, the court of wards. The entire fortunes of those whom we now call wards in chancery were inthe hands, and often submitted to the arts or the tyranny of theofficers of this court. 

When Audley was asked the value of this new office, he replied, that "Itmight be worth some thousands of pounds to him who after his death wouldinstantly go to heaven; twice as much to him who would go to purgatory:and nobody knows what to him who would adventure to go to hell. " Suchwas the pious casuistry of a witty usurer. Whether he undertook thislast adventure, for the four hundred thousand pounds he left behind him, how can a sceptical biographer decide? Audley seems ever to have beenweak when temptation was strong. 

Some saving qualities, however, were mixed with the vicious ones heliked best. Another passion divided dominion with the sovereign one:Audley's strongest impressions of character were cast in the oldlaw-library of his youth, and the pride of legal reputation was notinferior in strength to the rage for money. If in the "court of wards"he pounced on incumbrances which lay on estates, and prowled about todiscover the craving wants of their owners, it appears that he alsoreceived liberal fees from the relatives of young heirs, to protect themfrom the rapacity of some great persons, but who could not certainlyexceed Audley in subtilty. He was an admirable lawyer, for he was notsatisfied with _hearing_, but _examining_ his clients; which he called"pinching the cause where he perceived it was foundered. " He made twoobservations on clients and lawyers, which have not lost theirpoignancy. "Many clients in telling their case, rather plead than relateit, so that the advocate heareth not the true state of it, till openedby the adverse party. Some lawyers seem to keep an assurance-office intheir chambers, and will warrant any cause brought unto them, knowingthat if they fail, they lose nothing but what was lost long since--theircredit. "

The career of Audley's ambition closed with the extinction of the "courtof wards, " by which he incurred the loss of above £100, 000. On thatoccasion he observed that "His ordinary losses were as the shavings ofhis beard, which only grew the faster by them; but the loss of thisplace was like the cutting off of a member, which was irrecoverable. "The hoary usurer pined at the decline of his genius, discoursed on thevanity of the world, and hinted at retreat. A facetious friend told hima story of an old rat, who having acquainted the young rats that hewould at length retire to his hole, desiring none to come near him;their curiosity, after some days, led them to venture to look into thehole; and there they discovered the old rat sitting in the midst of arich Parmesan cheese. The loss of the last £100, 000 may have disturbedhis digestion, for he did not long survive his court of wards. 

Such was this man, converting wisdom into cunning, invention intotrickery, and wit into cynicism. Engaged in no honourable cause, hehowever showed a mind resolved; making plain the crooked and involvedpath he trod. _Sustine et abstine_, to bear and forbear, was the greatprinciple of Epictetus, and our moneyed Stoic bore all the contempt andhatred of the living smilingly, while he forbore all the consolations ofour common nature to obtain his end. He died in unblest celibacy, --andthus he received the curses of the living for his rapine, while thestranger who grasped the million he had raked together owed him nogratitude at his death. 

CHIDIOCK TITCHBOURNE. 

I have already drawn a picture of Jewish history in our country; thepresent is a companion-piece, exhibiting a Roman Catholic one. 

The domestic history of our country awakens our feelings far more thanthe public. In the one, we recognise ourselves as men; in the other, weare nothing but politicians. The domestic history is, indeed, entirelyinvolved in the fate of the public; and our opinions are regulatedaccording to the different countries, and by the different ages we livein; yet systems of politics, and modes of faith, are, for theindividual, but the chance occurrences of human life, usually found inthe cradle and laid in the grave: it is only the herd of mankind, ortheir artful leaders, who fight and curse one another with so muchsincerity. Amidst these intestine struggles, or, perhaps, when they haveceased, and our hearts are calm, we perceive the eternal force of natureacting on humanity; then the heroic virtues and private sufferings ofpersons engaged in an opposite cause, and acting on different principlesthan our own, appeal to our sympathy, and even excite our admiration. Aphilosopher, born a Roman Catholic, assuredly could commemorate many apathetic history of some heroic Huguenot; while we, with the samefeeling in our heart, discover a romantic and chivalrous band ofCatholics. 

Chidiock Titchbourne is a name which appears in the conspiracy ofAnthony Babington against Elizabeth, and the history of thisaccomplished young man may enter into the romance of real life. Havingdiscovered two interesting domestic documents relative to him, I amdesirous of preserving a name and a character which have such claims onour sympathy. 

There is an interesting historical novel, entitled "The Jesuit, " whosestory is founded on this conspiracy; remarkable for being the productionof a lady, without, if I recollect rightly, a single adventure of love. Of the fourteen characters implicated in this conspiracy, few were ofthe stamp of men ordinarily engaged in dark assassinations. Hume hastold the story with his usual grace: the fuller narrative may be foundin Camden; but the tale may yet receive from the character of ChidiockTitchbourne, a more interesting close. 

Some youths, worthy of ranking with the heroes, rather than with thetraitors of England, had been practised on by the subtilty of Ballard, adisguised Jesuit of great intrepidity and talents, whom Camden calls "asilken priest in a soldier's habit:" for this versatile intriguerchanged into all shapes, and took up all names: yet, with all the artsof a political Jesuit, he found himself entrapped in the nets of thatmore crafty one, the subdolous Walsingham. Ballard had opened himself toBabington, a Catholic; a youth of large fortune, the graces of whoseperson were only inferior to those of his mind. In his travels, hisgenerous temper had been touched by some confidential friends of theScottish Mary; and the youth, susceptible of ambition, had beenrecommended to that queen; and an intercourse of letters took place, which seemed as deeply tinctured with love as with loyalty. Theintimates of Babington were youths of congenial tempers and studies;and, in their exalted imaginations, they could only view in theimprisoned Mary of Scotland a sovereign, a saint, and a woman. Butfriendship the most tender, if not the most sublime ever recorded, prevailed among this band of self-devoted victims; and the Damon andPythias of antiquity were here out-numbered. 

But these conspirators were surely more adapted for lovers than forpoliticians. The most romantic incidents are interwoven in this darkconspiracy. Some of the letters to Mary were conveyed by a secretmessenger, really in the pay of Walsingham; others were lodged in aconcealed place, covered by a loosened stone, in the wall of the queen'sprison. All were transcribed by Walsingham before they reached Mary. Even the spies of that singular statesman were the companions or theservants of the arch-conspirator Ballard; for the minister seems only tohave humoured his taste in assisting him through this extravagant plot. Yet, as if a plot of so loose a texture was not quite perilous enough, the extraordinary incident of a picture, representing the secretconspirators in person, was probably considered as the highest stroke ofpolitical intrigue! The accomplished Babington had portrayed theconspirators, himself standing in the midst of them, that the imprisonedqueen might thus have some kind of personal acquaintance with them. There was at least as much of chivalry as of Machiavelism in thisconspiracy. This very picture, before it was delivered to Mary, thesubtile Walsingham had copied, to exhibit to Elizabeth the faces of hersecret enemies. Houbraken, in his portrait of Walsingham, has introducedin the vignette the incident of this picture being shown to Elizabeth; acircumstance happily characteristic of the genius of this crafty andvigilant statesman. Camden tells us that Babington had first inscribedbeneath the picture this verse:--

 Hi mihi sunt comites, quos ipsa pericula ducunt. These are my companions, whom the same dangers lead. 

But as this verse was considered by some of less heated fancies as muchtoo open and intelligible, they put one more ambiguous:--

 Quorsum hæc alio properantibus? What are these things to men hastening to another purpose?

This extraordinary collection of personages must have occasioned manyalarms to Elizabeth, at the approach of any stranger, till theconspiracy was suffered to be sufficiently matured to be ended. Once sheperceived in her walks a conspirator; and on that occasion erected her"lion port, " reprimanding her captain of the guards, loud enough to meetthe conspirator's ear, that "he had not a man in his company who wore asword. "--"Am not I fairly guarded?" exclaimed Elizabeth. 

It is in the progress of the trial that the history and the feelings ofthese wondrous youths appear. In those times, when the government of thecountry yet felt itself unsettled, and mercy did not sit in thejudgment-seat, even one of the judges could not refrain from beingaffected at the presence of so gallant a band as the prisoners at thebar: "Oh, Ballard, Ballard!" the judge exclaimed, "what hast thou done?A sort (a company) of brave youths, otherwise endued with good gifts, bythy inducement hast thou brought to their utter destruction andconfusion. " The Jesuit himself commands our respect, although we refusehim our esteem; for he felt some compunction at the tragical executionswhich were to follow, and "wished all the blame might rest on him, couldthe shedding of his blood be the saving of Babington's life!"

When this romantic band of friends were called on for their defence, themost pathetic instances of domestic affection appeared. One had engagedin this plot solely to try to save his friend, for he had no hopes ofit, nor any wish for its success; he had observed to his friend, thatthe "haughty and ambitious mind of Anthony Babington would be thedestruction of himself and his friends;" nevertheless he was willing todie with them! Another, to withdraw if possible one of those nobleyouths from the conspiracy, although he had broken up housekeeping, said, to employ his own language, "I called back my servants againtogether, and began to keep house again more freshly than ever I did, only because I was weary to see Tom Salusbury's straggling, and willingto keep him about home. " Having attempted to secrete his friend, thisgentleman observed, "I am condemned, because I suffered Salusbury toescape, when I knew he was one of the conspirators. My case is hard andlamentable; either to betray my friend, whom I love as myself, and todiscover Tom Salusbury, the best man in my country, of whom I only madechoice, or else to break my allegiance to my sovereign, and to undomyself and my posterity for ever. " Whatever the political casuist maydetermine on this case, the social being carries his own manual in theheart. The principle of the greatest of republics was to suffer nothingto exist in competition with its own ambition; but the Roman history isa history without fathers and brothers! Another of the conspiratorsreplied, "For flying away with my friend I fulfilled the part of afriend. " When the judge observed, that, to perform his friendship he hadbroken his allegiance to his sovereign, he bowed his head and confessed, "Therein I have offended. " Another, asked why he had fled into thewoods, where he was discovered among some of the conspirators, proudly(or tenderly) replied, "For company!"

When the sentence of condemnation had passed, then broke forth amongthis noble band that spirit of honour, which surely had never beenwitnessed at the bar among so many criminals. Their great minds seemedto have reconciled them to the most barbarous of deaths; but as theirestates as traitors might be forfeited to the queen, their sole anxietywas now for their families and their creditors. One in the most patheticterms recommends to her majesty's protection a beloved wife; another adestitute sister; but not among the least urgent of their supplications, was one that their creditors might not be injured by their untimely end. The statement of their affairs is curious and simple. "If mercy be notto be had, " exclaimed one, "I beseech you, my good lords, this; I owesome sums of money, but not very much, and I have more owing to me; Ibeseech that my debts may be paid with that which is owing to me. "Another prayed for a pardon; the judge complimented him, that "he wasone who might have done good service to his country, " but declares hecannot obtain it. --"Then, " said the prisoner, "I beseech that sixangels, which such an one hath of mine, may be delivered to my brotherto pay my debts. "--"How much are thy debts?" demanded the judge. Heanswered, "The same six angels will discharge it. "

That nothing might be wanting to complete the catastrophe of their sadstory, our sympathy must accompany them to their tragical end, and totheir last words. These heroic yet affectionate youths had a trialthere, intolerable to their social feelings. The terrific process ofexecuting traitors was the remains of feudal barbarism, and has onlybeen abolished very recently. I must not refrain from painting thisscene of blood; the duty of an historian must be severer than his taste, and I record in the note a scene of this nature. [78] The present one wasfull of horrors. Ballard was first executed, and snatched alive fromthe gallows to be embowelled: Babington looked on with an undauntedcountenance, steadily gazing on that variety of tortures which hehimself was in a moment to pass through; the others averted their faces, fervently praying. When the executioner began his tremendous office onBabington, the spirit of this haughty and heroic man cried out amidstthe agony, _Parce mihi, Domine Jesu!_ Spare me, Lord Jesus! There weretwo days of execution; it was on the first that the noblest of theseyouths suffered; and the pity which such criminals had excited among thespectators evidently weakened the sense of their political crime; thesolemnity, not the barbarity, of the punishment affects the populacewith right feelings. Elizabeth, an enlightened politician, commandedthat on the second day the odious part of the sentence against traitorsshould not commence till after their death. 

One of these _generosi adolescentuli_, youths of generous blood, wasCHIDIOCK TITCHBOURNE, of Southampton, the more intimate friend ofBabington. He had refused to connect himself with the assassination ofElizabeth, but his reluctant consent was inferred from his silence. Hisaddress to the populace breathes all the carelessness of life, in onewho knew all its value. Proud of his ancient descent from a family whichhad existed before the Conquest till now without a stain, he paints thethoughtless happiness of his days with his beloved friend, when anyobject rather than matters of state engaged their pursuits; the hours ofmisery were only first known the day he entered into the conspiracy. Howfeelingly he passes into the domestic scene, amidst his wife, his child, and his sisters! and even his servants! Well might he cry, more intenderness than in reproach, "Friendship hath brought me to this!"

 "Countrymen, and my dear friends, you expect I should speak something; I am a bad orator, and my text is worse: It were in vain to enter into the discourse of the whole matter for which I am brought hither, for that it hath been revealed heretofore; let me be a warning to all young gentlemen, especially _generosis adolescentulis_. I had a friend, a dear friend, of whom I made no small account, _whose friendship hath brought me to this_; he told me the whole matter, I cannot deny, as they had laid it down to be done; but I always thought it impious, and denied to be a dealer in it; but the regard of my friend caused me to be a man in whom the old proverb was verified; I was silent, and so consented. Before this thing chanced, we lived together in most nourishing estate: Of whom went report in the _Strand_, _Fleet-street_, and elsewhere about _London_, but of _Babington and Titchbourne_? No threshold was of force to brave our entry. Thus we lived, and wanted nothing we could wish for; and God knows what less in my head than _matters of state_. Now give me leave to declare the miseries I sustained after I was acquainted with the action, wherein I may justly compare my estate to that of Adam's, who could not abstain _one thing forbidden_, to enjoy all other things the world could afford; the terror of conscience awaited me. After I considered the dangers whereinto I was fallen, I went to Sir John Peters in Essex, and appointed my horses should meet me at London, intending to go down into the country. I came to London, and then heard that all was bewrayed; whereupon, like Adam, we fled into the woods to hide ourselves. My dear countrymen, my sorrows may be your joy, yet mix your smiles with tears, and pity my case; _I am descended from a house, from two hundred years before the Conquest, never stained till this my misfortune. I have a wife and one child; my wife Agnes, my dear wife, and there's my grief--and six sisters left in my hand--my poor servants, I know, their master being taken, were dispersed; for all which I do most heartily grieve_. I expected some favour, though I deserved nothing less, that the remainder of my years might in some sort have recompensed my former guilt; which seeing I have missed, let me now meditate on the joys I hope to enjoy. "

Titchbourne had addressed a letter to his "dear wife Agnes, " the nightbefore he suffered, which I discovered among the Harleian MSS. [79] Itoverflows with the most natural feeling, and contains some touches ofexpression, all sweetness and tenderness, which mark the Shakspeareanera. The same MS. Has also preserved a more precious gem, in a smallpoem, composed at the same time, which indicates his genius, fertile inimagery, and fraught with the melancholy philosophy of a fine andwounded spirit. The unhappy close of the life of such a noble youth, with all the prodigality of his feelings, and the cultivation of hisintellect, may still excite that sympathy in the _generosisadolescentulis_, which Chidiock Titchbourne would have felt for them!

 "A letter written by CHEDIOCK TICHEBURNE the night before he suffered death, vnto his wife, dated of anno 1586. 

 "To the most loving wife alive, I commend me vnto her, and desire God to blesse her with all happiness, pray for her dead husband, and be of good comforte, for I hope in Jesus Christ this morning to see the face of my maker and redeemer in the most joyful throne of his glorious kingdome. Commend me to all my friends, and desire them to pray for me, and in all charitie to pardon me, if I have offended them. Commend me to my six sisters poore desolate soules, advise them to serue God, for without him no goodness is to be expected: were it possible, my little sister Babb: the darlinge of my race might be bred by her, God would rewarde her; but I do her wrong I confesse, that hath by my desolate negligence too little for herselfe, to add a further charge vnto her. Deere wife forgive me, that have by these means so much impoverished her fortunes; patience and pardon good wife I craue--make of these our necessities a vertue, and lay no further burthen on my neck than hath alreadie been. There be certain debts that I owe, and because I know not the order of the lawe, piteous it hath taken from me all, forfeited by my course of offence to her majestie, I cannot aduise thee to benefit me herein, but if there fall out wherewithal, let them be discharged for God's sake. I will not that you trouble yourselfe with the performance of these matters, my own heart, but make it known to my uncles, and desire them, for the honour of God and ease of their soule, to take care of them as they may, and especially care of my sisters bringing up the burthen is now laide on them. Now, Sweet-cheek, what is left to bestow on thee, a small joynture, a small recompense for thy deservinge, these legacies followinge to be thine owne. God of his infinite goodness give thee grace alwaies to remain his true and faithfull servant, that through the merits of his bitter and blessed passion thou maist become in good time of his kingdom with the blessed women in heaven. May the Holy Ghost comfort thee with all necessaries for the wealth of thy soul in the world to come, where, until it shall please almighty God I meete thee, farewell lovinge wife, farewell the dearest to me on all the earth, farewell!

 "By the hand from the heart of thy most faithful louinge husband, "CHIDEOCK TICHEBURN. "

 "VERSES, "Made by CHEDIOCK TICHBORNE of himselfe in the Tower, the night before he suffered death, who was executed in Lincoln's Inn Fields for treason. 1586. 

 My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And all my goodes is but vain hope of gain. The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done!

 My spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung, The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green, My youth is past, and yet I am but young, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen; My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun, And now I live, and now my life is done!

 I sought for death, and found it in the wombe, I lookt for life, and yet it was a shade, I trade the ground, and knew it was my tombe, And now I dye, and now I am but made. The glass is full, and yet my glass is run; And now I live, and now my life is done![80]

ELIZABETH AND HER PARLIAMENT. 

The year 1566 was a remarkable period in the domestic annals of ourgreat Elizabeth; then, for a moment, broke forth a noble strugglebetween the freedom of the subject and the dignity of the sovereign. 

One of the popular grievances of her glorious reign was the maiden statein which the queen persisted to live, notwithstanding such frequentremonstrances and exhortations. The nation in a moment might be throwninto the danger of a disputed succession; and it became necessary toallay that ferment which existed among all parties, while each wasfixing on its own favourite, hereafter to ascend the throne. The birthof James I. This year, re-animated the partisans of Mary of Scotland;and men of the most opposite parties in England unanimously joined inthe popular cry for the marriage of Elizabeth, or a settlement of thesuccession. This was a subject most painful to the thoughts ofElizabeth; she started from it with horror, and she was practising everyimaginable artifice to evade it. 

The real cause of this repugnance has been passed over by ourhistorians. Camden, however, hints at it, when he places among otherpopular rumours of the day, that "men cursed Huic, the queen'sphysician, for dissuading her from marriage, for I know not what femaleinfirmity. " The queen's physician thus incurred the odium of the nationfor the integrity of his conduct: he well knew how precious was herlife![81]

This fact, once known, throws a new light over her conduct; theambiguous expressions which she constantly employs, when she alludes toher marriage in her speeches, and in private conversations, are nolonger mysterious. She was always declaring, that she knew her subjectsdid not love her so little, as to wish to bury her before her time; evenin the letter I shall now give, we find this remarkableexpression:--urging her to marriage, she said, was "asking nothing lessthan wishing her to dig her grave before she was dead. " Conscious of thedanger of her life by marriage, she had early declared when she ascendedthe throne, that "she would live and die a maiden queen:" but sheafterwards discovered the political evil resulting from her unfortunatesituation. Her conduct was admirable; her great genius turned even herweakness into strength, and proved how well she deserved the characterwhich she had already obtained from an enlightened enemy--the greatSixtus V. , who observed of her, _Ch'era un gran cervello diPrincipessa_! She had a princely head-piece! Elizabeth allowed herministers to pledge her royal word to the commons, as often as theyfound necessary, for her resolution to marry; she kept all Europe at herfeet, with the hopes and fears of her choice; she gave readyencouragements, perhaps allowed her agents to promote even invitations, to the offers of marriage she received from crowned heads; and all thecoquetries and cajolings, so often and so fully recorded, with which shefreely honoured individuals, made her empire an empire of love, wherelove, however, could never appear. All these were merely politicalartifices, to conceal her secret resolution, which was, not to marry. 

At the birth of James I. As Camden says, "the sharp and hot spiritsbroke out, accusing the queen that she was neglecting her country andposterity. " All "these humours, " observes Hume, "broke out with greatvehemence, in a new session of parliament, held after six prorogations. "The peers united with the commoners. The queen had an empty exchequer, and was at their mercy. It was a moment of high ferment. Some of theboldest, and some of the most British spirits were at work; and they, with the malice or wisdom of opposition, combined the supply with thesuccession; one was not to be had without the other. 

This was a moment of great hope and anxiety with the French court; theywere flattering themselves that her reign was touching a crisis; and LaMothe Fenelon, then the French ambassador at the court of Elizabeth, appears to have been busied in collecting hourly information of the warmdebates in the commons, and what passed in their interviews with thequeen. We may rather be astonished where he procured so much secretintelligence: he sometimes complains that he is not able to acquire itas fast as Catherine de Medicis and her son Charles IX. Wished. Theremust have been Englishmen at our court who were serving as French spies. In a private collection, which consists of two or three hundred originalletters of Charles IX. , Catherine de Medicis, Henry III. , and Mary ofScotland, &c. , I find two despatches of this French ambassador, entirelyrelating to the present occurrence. What renders them more curious is, that the debates on the question of the succession are imperfectly givenin Sir Symonds D'Ewes's journals; the only resource open to us. SirSymonds complains of the negligence of the clerk of the commons, whoindeed seems to have exerted his negligence, whenever it was found mostagreeable to the court party. 

Previous to the warm debates in the commons, of which the presentdespatch furnishes a lively picture, on Saturday, 12th October, 1566, ata meeting of the lords of the council, held in the queen's apartment, the Duke of Norfolk, in the name of the whole nobility, addressedElizabeth, urging her to settle the suspended points of the succession, and of her marriage, which had been promised in the last parliament. Thequeen was greatly angered on the occasion; she would not suffer theirurgency on those points, and spoke with great animation. "Hitherto youhave had no opportunity to complain of me; I have well governed thecountry in peace, and if a late war of little consequence has brokenout, which might have occasioned my subjects to complain of me, with meit has not originated, but with yourselves, as truly I believe. Lay yourhands on your hearts, and blame yourselves. In respect to the choice ofthe succession, not one of ye shall have it; that choice I reserve tomyself alone. I will not be buried while I am living, as my sister was. Do I not well know, how during the life of my sister every one hastenedto me at Hatfield; I am at present inclined to see no such travellers, nor desire on this your advice in any way. [82] In regard to my marriage, you may see enough, that I am not distant from it, and in what respectsthe welfare of the kingdom: go each of you, and do your own duty. "

 _27th October, 1566. _

 "Sire, "By my last despatch of the 21st instant, [83] among other matters, Iinformed your majesty of what was said on Saturday the 19th as well inparliament, as in the chamber of the queen, respecting the circumstanceof the succession to this crown; since which I have learned otherparticulars, which occurred a little before, and which I will not nowomit to relate, before I mention what afterwards happened. 

"On Wednesday, the 16th of the present month, the comptroller of thequeen's household[84] moved, in the lower house of parliament, where thedeputies of towns and counties meet, to obtain a subsidy;[85] takinginto consideration, among other things, that the queen had emptied theexchequer, as well in the late wars, as in the maintenance of her shipsat sea, for the protection of her kingdom, and her subjects; and whichexpenditure has been so excessive, that it could no further be supportedwithout the aid of her good subjects, whose duty it was to offer moneyto her majesty, even before she required it, in consideration that, hitherto, she had been to them a benignant and courteous mistress. 

"The comptroller having finished, one of the deputies, a countrygentleman, rose in reply. He said, that he saw no occasion, nor anypressing necessity, which ought to move her majesty to ask for money ofher subjects. And, in regard to the wars, which it was said hadexhausted her treasury, she had undertaken them for herself, as she hadthought proper; not for the defence of her kingdom, nor for theadvantage of her subjects; but there was one thing which seemed to himmore urgent, and far more necessary to examine concerning thiscampaign; which was, how the money raised by the late subsidy had beenspent; and that every one who had had the handling of it should producetheir accounts, that it might be known if the monies had been well orill spent. 

"On this, rises one named Mr. _Basche_, [86] purveyor of the marine, andalso a member of the said parliament; who shows that it was mostnecessary that the commons should vote the said subsidies to hermajesty, who had not only been at vast charges, and was so daily, tomaintain a great number of ships, but also in building new ones;repeating what the comptroller of the household had said, that theyought not to wait till the queen asked for supplies, but should make avoluntary offer of their services. 

"Another country gentleman rises and replies, that the said _Basche_ hadcertainly his reasons to speak for the queen in the present case, sincea great deal of her majesty's monies for the providing of ships passedthrough his hands; and the more he consumed, the greater was his profit. According to his notion, there were but too many purveyors in thiskingdom, whose noses had grown so long, that they stretched from Londonto the west. [87] It was certainly proper to know if all they levied bytheir commission for the present campaign was entirely employed to thequeen's profit. Nothing further was debated on that day. 

"The Friday following when the subject of the subsidy was renewed, oneof the gentlemen-deputies showed, that the queen having prayed[88] forthe last subsidy, had promised, and pledged her faith to her subjects, that after that one she never more would raise a single penny on them;and promised even to free them from the wine-duty, of which promise theyought to press for the performance; adding, that it was far morenecessary for this kingdom to speak concerning an heir or successor totheir crown, and of her marriage, than of a subsidy. 

"The next day, which was Saturday the 19th, they all began, with theexception of a single voice, a loud outcry for the succession. Amidstthese confused voices and cries, one of the council prayed them to havea little patience, and with time they should be satisfied; but that, atthis moment, other matters pressed, --it was necessary to satisfy thequeen about a subsidy. 'No! no!' cried the deputies, 'we are expresslycharged not to grant anything until the queen resolvedly answers thatwhich we now ask: and we require you to inform her majesty of ourintention, which is such as we are commanded to by all the towns andsubjects of this kingdom, whose deputies we are. We further require anact, or acknowledgment, of our having delivered this remonstrance, thatwe may satisfy our respective towns and counties that we have performedour charge. ' They alleged for an excuse, that if they had omitted anypart of this, _their heads would answer for it_. We shall see what willcome of this. [89]

"Tuesday the 22nd, the principal lords, and the bishops of London, York, Winchester, and Durham, went together, after dinner, from the parliamentto the queen, whom they found in her private apartment. There, afterthose who were present had retired, and they remained alone with her, the great treasurer having the precedence in age, spoke first in thename of all. He opened, by saying, that the commons had required them tounite in one sentiment and agreement, to solicit her majesty to give heranswer as she had promised, to appoint a successor to the crown;declaring it was necessity that compelled them to urge this point, thatthey might provide against the dangers which might happen to thekingdom, if they continued without the security they asked. This hadbeen the custom of her royal predecessors, to provide long beforehandfor the succession, to preserve the peace of the kingdom; that thecommons were all of one opinion, and so resolved to settle thesuccession before they would speak about a subsidy, or any other matterwhatever; that, hitherto, nothing but the most trivial discussions hadpassed in parliament, and so great an assembly was only wasting theirtime, and saw themselves entirety useless. They, however, supplicatedher majesty, that she would be pleased to declare her will on thispoint, or at once to put an end to the parliament, so that every onemight retire to his home. 

"The Duke of Norfolk then spoke, and, after him, every one of the otherlords, according to his rank, holding the same language in strictconformity with that of the great treasurer. 

"The queen returned no softer answer than she had on the precedingSaturday, to another party of the same company; saying that 'The commonswere very rebellious, and that they had not dared to have attempted suchthings during the life of her father: that it was not for them to impedeher affairs, and that it did not become a subject to compel thesovereign. What they asked was nothing less than wishing her to dig hergrave before she was dead. ' Addressing herself to the lords, she said, 'My lords, do what you will; as for myself, I shall do nothing butaccording to my pleasure. All the resolutions which you may make canhave no force without my consent and authority; besides, what you desireis an affair of much too great importance to be declared to a knot ofhare-brains. [90] I will take counsel with men who understand justice andthe laws, as I am deliberating to do: I will choose half-a-dozen of themost able I can find in my kingdom for consultation, and after havingtheir advice, I will then discover to you my will. ' On this shedismissed them in great anger. 

"By this, sire, your majesty may perceive that this queen is every daytrying new inventions to escape from this passage (that is, on fixingher marriage, or the succession). She thinks that the Duke of Norfolk isprincipally the cause of this insisting, [91] which one person and theother stand to; and is so angried against him, that, if she can find anydecent pretext to arrest him, I think she will not fail to do it; and hehimself, as I understand, has already very little doubt of this. [92]The duke told the earl of Northumberland, that the queen remainedsteadfast to her own opinion, and would take no other advice than herown, and would do everything herself. "

The storms in our parliament do not necessarily end in politicalshipwrecks, whenever the head of the government is an Elizabeth. She, indeed, sent down a prohibition to the house from all debate on thesubject. But when she discovered a spirit in the commons, and languageas bold as her own royal style, she knew how to revoke the exasperatingprohibition. She even charmed them by the manner; for the commonsreturned her "prayers and thanks, " and accompanied them with a subsidy. Her majesty found by experience, that the present, like other passions, was more easily calmed and quieted by following than resisting, observesSir Symonds D'Ewes. 

The wisdom of Elizabeth, however, did not weaken her intrepidity. Thestruggle was glorious for both parties; but how she escaped through thestorm which her mysterious conduct had at once raised and quelled, thesweetness and the sharpness, the commendation and the reprimand of hernoble speech in closing the parliament, are told by Hume with the usualfelicity of his narrative. [93]

ANECDOTES OF PRINCE HENRY, THE SON OF JAMES I. , WHEN A CHILD. 

Prince Henry, the son of James I. , whose premature death was lamented bythe people, as well as by poets and historians, unquestionably wouldhave proved an heroic and military character. Had he ascended thethrone, the whole face of our history might have been changed; the daysof Agincourt and Cressy had been revived, and Henry IX. Had rivalledHenry V. It is remarkable that Prince Henry resembled that monarch inhis features, as Ben Jonson has truly recorded, though in acomplimentary verse, and as we may see by his picture, among the ancientEnglish ones at Dulwich College. Merlin, in a masque by Jonson, addresses Prince Henry, Yet rests that other thunderbolt of war, Harry the Fifth; to whom in face you are So like, as fate would have you so in worth. 

A youth who perished in his eighteenth year has furnished the subjectof a volume, which even the deficient animation of its writer has notdeprived of attraction. [94] If the juvenile age of Prince Henry hasproved such a theme for our admiration, we may be curious to learn whatthis extraordinary youth was even at an earlier period. Authenticanecdotes of children are rare; a child has seldom a biographer by hisside. We have indeed been recently treated with "Anecdotes of Children, "in the "Practical Education" of the literary family of the Edgeworths;but we may presume that as Mr. Edgeworth delighted in pieces of curiousmachinery in his house, these automatic infants, poets, andmetaphysicians, of whom afterwards we have heard no more, seem to haveresembled other automata, moving without any native impulse. 

Prince Henry, at a very early age, not exceeding five years, evinced athoughtfulness of character, extraordinary in a child. Something in theformation of this early character may be attributed to the Countess ofMar. This lady had been the nurse of James I. , and to her care the kingintrusted the prince. She is described in a manuscript of the times, as"an ancient, virtuous, and severe lady, who was the prince's governessfrom his cradle. " At the age of five years the prince was consigned tohis tutor, Mr. (afterwards Sir) Adam Newton, a man of learning andcapacity, whom the prince at length chose for his secretary. Theseverity of the old countess, and the strict discipline of his tutor, were not received without affection and reverence; although not at timeswithout a shrewd excuse, or a turn of pleasantry, which latter facultythe princely boy seems to have possessed in a very high degree. 

The prince early attracted the attention and excited the hopes of thosewho were about his person. A manuscript narrative has been preserved, which was written by one who tells us, that he was "an attendant uponthe prince's person since he was under the age of three years, havingalways diligently observed his disposition, behaviour, andspeeches. "[95] It was at the earnest desire of Lord and Lady Lumley thatthe writer of these anecdotes drew up this relation. The manuscript iswithout date; but as Lord Lumley died in April, 1609, and leaving noheir, his library was then purchased for the prince, Henry could nothave reached his fifteenth year; this manuscript was evidently composedearlier: so that the _latest_ anecdotes could not have occurred beyondhis thirteenth or fourteenth year, --a time of life when few children canfurnish a curious miscellany about themselves. 

The writer set down every little circumstance he considered worthnoticing, as it occurred. I shall attempt a sort of arrangement of themost interesting, to show, by an unity of the facts, the characteristictouches of the mind and dispositions of the princely boy. 

Prince Henry in his childhood rarely wept, and endured pain without agroan. When a boy wrestled with him in earnest, and threw him, he wasnot "seen to whine or weep at the hurt. " His sense of justice was early;for when his playmate the little Earl of Mar ill-treated one of hispages, Henry reproved his puerile friend: "I love you because you are mylord's son and my cousin; but, if you be not better conditioned, I willlove such an one better, " naming the child that had complained of him. 

The first time he went to the town of Stirling, to meet the king, observing without the gate of the town a stack of corn, it fancifullystruck him with the shape of the top he used to play with, and the childexclaimed, "That's a good top. " "Why do you not then play with it?" hewas answered. "Set you it up for me, and I will play with it. " This isjust the fancy which we might expect in a lively child, with ashrewdness in the retort above its years. 

His martial character was perpetually discovering itself. When askedwhat instrument he liked best, he answered, "a trumpet. " We are toldthat none could dance with more grace, but that he never delighted indancing; while he performed his heroical exercises with pride anddelight, more particularly when before the king, the constable ofCastile, and other ambassadors. He was instructed by his master tohandle and toss the pike, to march and hold himself in an affected styleof stateliness, according to the martinets of those days; but he soonrejected such petty and artificial fashions; yet to show that thisdislike arose from no want of skill in a trifling accomplishment, hewould sometimes resume it only to laugh at it, and instantly return tohis own natural demeanour. On one of these occasions, one of thesemartinets observing that they could never be good soldiers unless theyalways kept true order and measure in marching, "What then must theydo, " cried Henry, "when they wade through a swift-running water?" In allthings freedom of action from his own native impulse he preferred to thesettled rules of his teachers; and when his physician told him that herode too fast, he replied, "Must I ride by rules of physic?" When he waseating a cold capon in cold weather, the physician told him that thatwas not meat for the weather. "You may see, doctor, " said Henry, "thatmy cook is no astronomer. " And when the same physician, observing himeat cold and hot meat together, protested against it, "I cannot mindthat now, " said the royal boy, facetiously, "though they should have runat tilt together in my belly. "

His national affections were strong. When one reported to Henry that theKing of France had said that his bastard, as well as the bastard ofNormandy, might conquer England, the princely boy exclaimed, "I'll tocuffs with him, if he go about any such means. " There was a dish ofjelly before the prince, in the form of a crown, with three lilies; anda kind of buffoon, whom the prince used to banter, said to the princethat that dish was worth a crown. "Ay!" exclaimed the future Englishhero, "I would I had that crown!"--"It would be a great dish, " rejoinedthe buffoon. "How can that be, " rejoined the prince, "since you value itbut a crown?" When James I. Asked him whether he loved Englishmen orFrenchmen better, he replied, "Englishmen, because he was of kindred tomore noble persons of England than of France;" and when the kinginquired whether he loved the English or the Germans better, he repliedthe English; on which the king observing that his mother was a German, the prince replied, "'Sir, you have the wyte thereof;'--a northernspeech, " adds the writer, "which is as much as to say, --you are thecause thereof. "

Born in Scotland, and heir to the crown of England at a time when themutual jealousies of the two nations were running so high, the boy oftenhad occasion to express the unity of affection which was really in hisheart. Being questioned by a nobleman, whether, after his father, he hadrather be king of England or Scotland, he asked, "Which of them wasbest?" Being answered, that it was England; "Then, " said theScottish-born prince, "would I have both!" And once, in reading thisverse in Virgil, Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur, the boy said he would make use of that verse for himself, with a slightalteration, thus, Anglus Scotusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur. 

He was careful to keep alive the same feeling in another part of theBritish dominions; and the young prince appears to have been regardedwith great affection by the Welsh; for when once the prince asked agentleman at what mark he should shoot, the courtier pointed with levityat a Welshman who was present. "Will you see, then, " said the princelyboy, "how I will shoot at Welshmen?" Turning his back from him, theprince shot his arrow in the air. When a Welshman, who had taken a largecarouse, in the fulness of his heart and his head, said in the presenceof the king, that the prince should have 40, 000 Welshmen, to wait uponhim against any king in Christendom; the king, not a little jealous, hastily inquired, "To do what?" The little prince turned away themomentary alarm by his facetiousness: "To cut off the heads of 40, 000leeks. "

His bold and martial character was discoverable in minute circumstanceslike these. Eating in the king's presence a dish of milk, the king askedhim why he ate so much child's meat. "Sir, it is also man's meat, " Henryreplied; and immediately after having fed heartily on a partridge, theking observed that that meat would make him a coward, according to theprevalent notions of the age respecting diet; to which the young princereplied, "though it be but a cowardly fowl, it shall not make me acoward. " Once taking strawberries with two spoons, when one might havesufficed, our infant Mars gaily exclaimed, "The one I use as a rapierand the other as a dagger!"

Adam Newton appears to have filled his office as preceptor with noservility to the capricious fancies of the princely boy. Desirous, however, of cherishing the generous spirit and playful humour of Henry, his tutor encouraged a freedom of jesting with him, which appears tohave been carried at times to a degree of momentary irritability on theside of the tutor, by the keen humour of the boy. While the royal pupilheld his master in equal reverence and affection, the gaiety of histemper sometimes twitched the equability or the gravity of thepreceptor. When Newton, wishing to set an example to the prince inheroic exercises, one day practised the pike, and tossing it with suchlittle skill as to have failed in the attempt, the young prince tellinghim of his failure, Newton obviously lost his temper, observing, that"to find fault was an evil humour. " "Master, I take the humour of you. ""It becomes not a prince, " observed Newton. "Then, " retorted the youngprince, "doth it worse become a prince's master!" Some of these harmlessbickerings are amusing. When his tutor, playing at shuffle-board withthe prince, blamed him for changing so often, and taking up a piece, threw it on the board, and missed his aim, the prince smilinglyexclaimed, "Well thrown, master;" on which the tutor, a little vexed, said "he would not strive with a prince at shuffle-board. " Henryobserved, "Yet you gownsmen should be best at such exercises, which arenot meet for men who are more stirring. " The tutor, a little irritated, said, "I am meet for whipping of boys. " "You vaunt, then, " retorted theprince, "that which a ploughman or cart-driver can do better than you. ""I can do more, " said the tutor, "for I can govern foolish children. " Onwhich the prince, who, in his respect for his tutor, did not care tocarry the jest farther, rose from the table, and in a low voice to thosenear him said, "he had need be a wise man that could do that. " Newtonwas sometimes severe in his chastisement; for when the prince wasplaying at goff, and having warned his tutor, who was standing by inconversation, that he was going to strike the ball, and having lifted upthe goff-club, some one observing, "Beware, sir, that you hit not Mr. Newton!" the prince drew back the club, but smilingly observed, "Had Idone so, I had but paid my debts. " At another time, when he was amusinghimself with the sports of a child, his tutor wishing to draw him tomore manly exercises, amongst other things, said to him in good humour, "God send you a wise wife!" "That she may govern you and me!" said theprince. The tutor observed, that "he had one of his own;" the princereplied, "But mine, if I have one, would govern your wife, and by thatmeans would govern both you and me!" Henry, at this early age, excelledin a quickness of reply, combined with reflection, which marks theprecocity of his intellect. His tutor having laid a wager with theprince that he could not refrain from standing with his back to thefire, and seeing him forget himself once or twice, standing in thatposture, the tutor said, "Sir, the wager is won, you have failed twice. ""Master, " replied Henry, "Saint Peter's cock crew thrice. "--A musicianhaving played a voluntary in his presence, was requested to play thesame again. "I could not for the kingdom of Spain, " said the musician, "for this were harder than for a preacher to repeat word by word asermon that he had not learned by rote. " A clergyman standing by, observed that he thought a preacher might do that: "Perhaps, " rejoinedthe young prince, "for a bishopric!"

The natural facetiousness of his temper appears frequently in the goodhumour with which the little prince was accustomed to treat hisdomestics. He had two of opposite characters, who were frequently set bythe ears for the sake of the sport; the one, Murray, nicknamed "thetailor, " loved his liquor; and the other was a stout "trencherman. " Theking desired the prince to put an end to these broils, and to make themen agree, and that the agreement should be written and subscribed byboth. "Then, " said the prince, "must the drunken tailor subscribe itwith chalk, for he cannot write his name, and then I will make themagree upon this condition--that the trencherman shall go into thecellar, and drink with Will Murray, and Will Murray shall make a greatwallet for the trencherman to carry his victuals in. "--One of hisservants having cut the prince's finger, and sucked out the blood withhis mouth, that it might heal the more easily, the young prince, whoexpressed no displeasure at the accident, said to him pleasantly, "If, which God forbid! my father, myself, and the rest of his kindred shouldfail, you might claim the crown, for you have now in you theblood-royal. "--Our little prince once resolved on a hearty game of play, and for this purpose only admitted his young gentlemen, and excluded themen: it happened that an old servant, not aware of the injunction, entered the apartment, on which the prince told him he might play too;and when the prince was asked why he admitted this old man rather thanthe other men, he rejoined, "Because he had a right to be of theirnumber, for _Senex bis puer_. "

Nor was Henry susceptible of gross flattery, for when once he wore whiteshoes, and one said that he longed to kiss his foot, the prince said tothe fawning courtier, "Sir, I am not the pope;" the other replied that"he would not kiss the pope's foot, except it were to bite off his greattoe. " The prince gravely rejoined: "At Rome you would be glad to kisshis foot and forget the rest. "

It was then the mode, when the king or the prince travelled, to sleepwith their suite at the houses of the nobility; and the loyalty and zealof the host were usually displayed in the reception given to the royalguest. It happened that in one of these excursions the prince's servantscomplained that they had been obliged to go to bed supperless, throughthe pinching parsimony of the house, which the little prince at the timeof hearing seemed to take no great notice of. The next morning the ladyof the house coming to pay her respects to him, she found him turningover a volume that had many pictures in it; one of which was a paintingof a company sitting at a banquet: this he showed her. "I invite you, madam, to a feast. " "To what feast?" she asked. "To this feast, " saidthe boy. "What! would your highness give me but a painted feast?" Fixinghis eye on her, he said, "No better, madam, is found in this house. "There was a delicacy and greatness of spirit in this ingenious reprimandfar excelling the wit of a child. 

According to this anecdote-writer, it appears that James the Firstprobably did not delight in the martial dispositions of his son, whosehabits and opinions were, in all respects, forming themselves oppositeto his own tranquil and literary character. The writer says, that "hismajesty, with the tokens of love to him, would sometimes interlace sharpspeeches, and other demonstrations of fatherly severity. " Henry, whohowever lived, though he died early, to become a patron of ingeniousmen, and a lover of genius, was himself at least as much enamoured ofthe pike as of the pen. The king, to rouse him to study, told him, thatif he did not apply more diligently to his book, his brother, dukeCharles, who seemed already attached to study, would prove more able forgovernment and for the cabinet, and that himself would be only fit forfield exercises and military affairs. To his father, the little princemade no reply; but when his tutor one day reminded him of what hisfather had said, to stimulate our young prince to literary diligence, Henry asked, whether he thought his brother would prove so good ascholar. His tutor replied that he was likely to prove so. 'Then, 'rejoined our little prince, 'will I make Charles Archbishop ofCanterbury. '"

Our Henry was devoutly pious, and rigid in never permitting before himany licentious language or manners. It is well known that James theFirst had a habit of swearing, --expletives in conversation, which, intruth, only expressed the warmth of his feelings; but in that age, whenPuritanism had already possessed half the nation, an oath was consideredas nothing short of blasphemy. Henry once made a keen allusion to thisverbal frailty of his father's; for when he was told that some hawkswere to be sent to him, but it was thought that the king would interceptsome of them, he replied, "He may do as he pleases, for he shall not beput to the oath for the matter. " The king once asking him what were thebest verses he had learned in the first book of Virgil, Henry answered, "These:--

 'Rex erat Æneas nobis, quo justior alter Nec pietate fuit, nec bello major et armis. '"

Such are a few of the puerile anecdotes of a prince who died in earlyyouth, gleaned from a contemporary manuscript, by an eye and earwitness. They are trifles, but trifles consecrated by his name. They aregenuine; and the philosopher knows how to value the indications of agreat and heroic character. There are among them some which may occasionan inattentive reader to forget that they are all the speeches and theactions of a child!

THE DIARY OF A MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES. 

Of court-etiquette few are acquainted with the mysteries, and stillfewer have lost themselves in its labyrinth of forms. Whence its origin?Perhaps from those grave and courtly Italians, who, in their pettypompous courts, made the whole business of their effeminate days consistin _punctilios_; and, wanting realities to keep themselves alive, affected the mere shadows of life and action, in a world of thesemockeries of state. It suited well the genius of a people who boasted ofelementary works to teach how affronts were to be given, and how to betaken; and who had some reason to pride themselves in producing theCortegiano of Castiglione, and the Galateo of Della Casa. They carriedthis refining temper into the most trivial circumstances, when a courtwas to be the theatre, and monarchs and their representatives theactors. Precedence, and other honorary discriminations, establish theuseful distinctions of ranks, and of individuals; but their minutercourt forms, subtilised by Italian conceits, with an erudition ofprecedents, and a logic of nice distinctions, imparted a mock dignityof science to the solemn fopperies of a master of the ceremonies, whoexhausted all the faculties of his soul on the equiponderance of thefirst place of inferior degree with the last of a superior; who turnedinto a political contest the placing of a chair and a stool; made areception at the stairs'-head, or at the door, raise a clash between tworival nations; a visit out of time require a negotiation of threemonths; or an awkward invitation produce a sudden fit of sickness; whilemany a rising antagonist, in the formidable shapes of ambassadors, wereready to despatch a courier to their courts, for the omission or neglectof a single _punctilio_. The pride of nations, in pacific times, hasonly these means to maintain their jealousy of power: yet should not thepeople be grateful to the sovereign who confines his campaigns to hisdrawing-room: whose field-marshal is a tripping master of theceremonies; whose stratagems are only to save the inviolability ofcourt-etiquette; and whose battles of peace are only for precedence?

When the Earls of Holland and Carlisle, our ambassadors extraordinary tothe court of France, in 1624, were at Paris, to treat of the marriage ofCharles with Henrietta, and to join in a league against Spain, beforethey showed their propositions, they were desirous of ascertaining inwhat manner Cardinal Richelieu would receive them. The Marquis ofVille-aux-Clers was employed in this negotiation, which appeared atleast as important as the marriage and the league. He brought foranswer, that the cardinal would receive them as he did the ambassadorsof the Emperor and the King of Spain; that he could not give them theright hand in his own house, because he never honoured in this way thoseambassadors; but that, in reconducting them out of his room, he would gofarther than he was accustomed to do, provided that they would permithim to cover this unusual proceeding with a pretext, that the othersmight not draw any consequences from it in their favour. Our ambassadorsdid not disapprove of this expedient, but they begged time to receivethe instructions of his majesty. As this would create a considerabledelay, they proposed another, which would set at rest, for the moment, the _punctilio_. They observed, that if the cardinal would feign himselfsick, they would go to see him: on which the cardinal immediately wentto bed, and an interview, so important to both nations, took place, andarticles of great difficulty were discussed by the cardinal's bedside!When the Nuncio Spada would have made the cardinal jealous of thepretensions of the English ambassadors, and reproached him with yieldinghis precedence to them, the cardinal denied this. "I never go beforethem, it is true, but likewise I never accompany them; I wait for themonly in the chamber of audience, either seated in the most honourableplace, or standing till the table is ready: I am always the first tospeak, and the first to be seated; and besides, I have never chosen toreturn their visit, which has made the Earl of Carlisle sooutrageous. "[96]

Such was the ludicrous gravity of those court etiquettes, or_punctilios_, combined with political consequences, of which I am now toexhibit a picture. 

When James the First ascended the throne of his united kingdoms, andpromised himself and the world long halcyon days of peace, foreignprinces, and a long train of ambassadors from every European power, resorted to the English court. The pacific monarch, in emulation of anoffice which already existed in the courts of Europe, created that ofMASTER OF THE CEREMONIES, after the mode of France, observes RogerCoke. [97] This was now found necessary to preserve the state, and allaythe perpetual jealousies of the representatives of their sovereigns. Thefirst officer was Sir Lewis Lewknor, [98] with an assistant, Sir JohnFinett, who at length succeeded him, under Charles the First, and seemsto have been more amply blest with the genius of the place; his souldoted on the honour of the office; and in that age of peace and ofceremony, we may be astonished at the subtilty of his inventive shiftsand contrivances, in quieting that school of angry and rigid boys whomhe had under his care--the ambassadors of Europe!

Sir John Finett, like a man of genius in office, and living too in anage of diaries, has not resisted the pleasant labour of perpetuating hisown narrative. [99] He has told every circumstance, with a chronologicalexactitude, which passed in his province as master of the ceremonies;and when we consider that he was a busy actor amidst the wholediplomatic corps, we shall not he surprised by discovering, in thissmall volume of great curiosity, a vein of secret and authentic history;it throws a new light on many important events, in which the historiansof the times are deficient, who had not the knowledge of this assiduousobserver. But my present purpose is not to treat Sir John with all theceremonious _punctilios_, of which he was himself the arbiter; nor toquote him on grave subjects, which future historians may well do. 

This volume contains the rupture of a morning, and the peace-makings ofan evening; sometimes it tells of "a _clash_ between the Savoy andFlorence ambassadors for precedence;"--now of "_questions_ betwixt theImperial and Venetian ambassadors, concerning _titles_ and _visits_, "how they were to address one another, and who was to pay the firstvisit!--then "the Frenchman takes _exceptions_ about _placing_. " Thishistorian of the levee now records, "that the French ambassador getsground of the Spanish;" but soon after, so eventful were thesedrawing-room politics, that a day of festival has passed away insuspense, while a privy council has been hastily summoned, to inquire_why_ the French ambassador had "a defluction of rheum in his teeth, besides a fit of the ague, " although he hoped to be present at the samefestival next year! or being invited to a mask, declared "his stomachwould not agree with cold meats:" "thereby pointing" (shrewdly observesSir John) "at the invitation and presence of the Spanish ambassador, who, at the mask _the Christmas before_, had appeared in the firstplace. "

Sometimes we discover our master of the ceremonies disentangling himselfand the lord chamberlain from the most provoking perplexities by aclever and civil lie. Thus it happened, when the Muscovite ambassadorwould not yield precedence to the French nor Spaniard. On this occasion, Sir John, at his wits' end, contrived an obscure situation, in which theRuss imagined he was highly honoured, as there he enjoyed a full sightof the king's face, though he could see nothing of the entertainmentitself; while the other ambassadors were so kind as "not to takeexception, " not caring about the Russian, from the remoteness of hiscountry, and the little interest that court then had in Europe! But SirJohn displayed even a bolder invention when the Muscovite, at hisreception at Whitehall, complained that only one lord was in waiting atthe stairs'-head, while no one had met him in the court-yard. Sir Johnassured him that in England it was considered a greater honour to bereceived by one lord than by two!

Sir John discovered all his acumen in the solemn investigation of "Whichwas the upper end of the table?" Arguments and inferences were deducedfrom precedents quoted; but as precedents sometimes look contrary ways, this affair might still have remained _sub judice_, had not Sir Johnoracularly pronounced that "in spite of the chimneys in England, wherethe best man sits, is that end of the table. " Sir John, indeed, wouldoften take the most enlarged view of things; as when the Spanishambassador, after hunting with the king at Theobalds, dined with hismajesty in the privy-chamber, his son Don Antonio dined in thecouncil-chamber with some of the king's attendants. Don Antonio seatedhimself on a stool at the end of the table. "One of the gentlemen-usherstook exception at this, being, he said, irregular and unusual, thatplace being ever wont to be reserved _empty for state_!" In a word, noperson in the world was ever to sit on that stool; but Sir John, holdinga conference before he chose to disturb the Spanish grandee, finallydetermined that "this was the _superstition_ of a gentleman-usher, andit was therefore neglected. " Thus Sir John could, at a critical moment, exert a more liberal spirit, and risk an empty stool against a littleease and quiet; which were no common occurrences with that martyr ofstate, a master of ceremonies!

But Sir John, --to me he is so entertaining a personage that I do notcare to get rid of him, --had to overcome difficulties which stretchedhis fine genius on tenter-hooks. Once--rarely did the like unluckyaccident happen to the wary master of the ceremonies--did Sir Johnexceed the civility of his instructions, or rather hishalf-instructions. Being sent to invite the Dutch ambassador and theStates' commissioners, then a young and new government, to theceremonies of St. George's day, they inquired whether they should havethe same respect paid to them as other ambassadors? The bland Sir John, out of the milkiness of his blood, said he doubted it not. As soon, however, as he returned to the lord chamberlain, he discovered that hehad been sought for up and down, to stop the invitation. The lordchamberlain said Sir John had exceeded his commission, if he had invitedthe Dutchmen "to stand in the closet of the queen's side; because theSpanish ambassador would never endure them _so near him, where there wasbut a thin wainscot board between, and a window which might be opened_!"Sir John said gently, he had done no otherwise than he had been desired;which however the lord chamberlain, _in part_, denied, (cautious andcivil!) "and I was not so unmannerly as to contest against, " (supple, but uneasy!) This affair ended miserably for the poor Dutchmen. Thosenew republicans were then regarded with the most jealous contempt by allthe ambassadors, and were just venturing on their first dancing-steps, to move among crowned heads. The Dutch now resolved not to be present;declaring they had just received an _urgent invitation_, from the Earlof Exeter, to dine at Wimbledon. A piece of _supercherie_ to saveappearances; probably the happy contrivance of the combined geniuses ofthe lord chamberlain and the master of the ceremonies!

I will now exhibit some curious details from these archives offantastical state, and paint a courtly world, where politics andcivility seem to have been at perpetual variance. 

When the Palatine arrived in England to marry Elizabeth, the onlydaughter of James the First, "the feasting and jollity" of the courtwere interrupted by the discontent of the archduke's ambassador, ofwhich these were the material points:--

Sir John waited on him, to honour with his presence the solemnity on thesecond or third days, either to dinner or supper, or both. 

The archduke's ambassador paused: with a troubled countenance inquiringwhether the Spanish ambassador was invited. "I answered, answerable tomy instructions in case of such demand, that he was sick, and could notbe there. He was yesterday, quoth he, so well, as that the offer mighthave very well been made him, and perhaps accepted. "

To this Sir John replied, that the French and Venetian ambassadorsholding between them one course of correspondence, and the Spanish andthe archduke's another, their invitations had been usually joint. 

This the archduke's ambassador denied; and affirmed that they had beenseparately invited to Masques, &c. , but he had never;--that France hadalways yielded precedence to the archduke's predecessors, when they werebut Dukes of Burgundy, of which he was ready to produce "ancientproofs;" and that Venice was a mean republic, a sort of burghers, and ahandful of territory, compared to his monarchical sovereign:--and to allthis he added, that the Venetian bragged of the frequent favours he hadreceived. 

Sir John returns in great distress to the lord chamberlain and hismajesty. A solemn declaration is drawn up, in which James I. Mostgravely laments that the archduke's ambassador has taken this offence;but his majesty offers these most cogent arguments in his own favour:that the Venetian had announced to his majesty that his republic hadordered his men new liveries on the occasion, an honour, he adds, notusual with princes--the Spanish ambassador, not finding himself well forthe first day (because, by the way, he did not care to disputeprecedence with the Frenchman), his majesty conceiving that thesolemnity of the marriage being one continued act through divers days, it admitted neither _prius_ nor _posterius_: and then James proves toomuch, by boldly asserting, that the _last day_ should be taken for the_greatest day!_--as in other cases, for instance in that of Christmas, where Twelfth-day, the last day, is held as the greatest. 

But the French and Venetian ambassadors, so envied by the Spanish andthe archduke's, were themselves not less chary, and crustily fastidious. The insolent Frenchman first attempted to take precedence of the Princeof Wales; and the Venetian stood upon this point, that they should siton chairs, though the prince had but a stool; and, particularly, thatthe carver should not stand before him. "But, " adds Sir John, "neitherof them prevailed in their reasonless pretences. "

Nor was it peaceable even at the nuptial dinner, which closed with thefollowing catastrophe of etiquette:--

Sir John having ushered among the countesses the lady of the Frenchambassador, he left her to the ranging of the lord chamberlain, whoordered she should be placed at the table next beneath the countesses, and above the baronesses. But lo! "The Viscountess of Effinghamstanding to her _woman's right_, and possessed already of her properplace (as she called it), would not remove lower, so _held the hand_ ofthe ambassadrice, till after dinner, when the French ambassador, informed of the difference and opposition, called out for his wife'scoach!" With great trouble, the French lady was persuaded to stay, theCountess of Kildare and the Viscountess of Haddington making no scrupleof yielding their places. Sir John, unbending his gravity, facetiouslyadds, "The Lady of Effingham, in the interim, forbearing (with rathertoo much than little stomach) both her supper and her company. " Thisspoilt child of quality, tugging at the French ambassadress to keep herdown, mortified to be seated at the side of the Frenchwoman that day, frowning and frowned on, and going supperless to bed, passed thewedding-day of the Palatine and Princess Elizabeth like a cross girl ona form. 

One of the most subtle of these men of _punctilio_, and the mosttroublesome, was the Venetian ambassador; for it was his particularaptitude to find fault, and pick out jealousies among all the others ofhis body. 

On the marriage of the Earl of Somerset, the Venetian was invited to themasque, but not the dinner, as last year the reverse had occurred. TheFrenchman, who drew always with the Venetian, at this moment chose toact by himself on the watch of precedence, jealous of the Spaniard newlyarrived. When invited, he inquired if the Spanish ambassador was to bethere? and humbly beseeched his majesty to be excused, fromindisposition. We shall now see Sir John put into the most lively actionby the subtle Venetian. 

"I was scarcely back at court with the French ambassador's answer, whenI was told that a gentleman from the Venetian ambassador had been toseek me, who, having at last found me, said that his lord desired me, that if ever I would do him favour, I would take the pains to come tohim instantly. I, winding the cause to be some new buzz gotten into hisbrain, from some intelligence he had from the French of that morning'sproceeding, excused my present coming, that I might take furtherinstructions from the lord chamberlain; wherewith, as soon as I wassufficiently armed, I went to the Venetian. "

But the Venetian would not confer with Sir John, though he sent for himin such a hurry, except in presence of his own secretary. Then theVenetian desired Sir John to repeat the _words_ of his own_invitation_, and _those_ also of his own _answer_! which poor Sir Johnactually did! For he adds, "I yielded, but not without discovering myinsatisfaction to be so peremptorily pressed on, as if he had meant totrip me. "

The Venetian having thus compelled Sir John to con over both invitationand answer, gravely complimented him on his correctness to a tittle! Yetstill was the Venetian not in less trouble: and now he confessed thatthe king had given a formal invitation to the French ambassador, --andnot to him!

This was a new stage in this important negotiation: it tried all thediplomatic sagacity of Sir John to extract a discovery; and which was, that the Frenchman had, indeed, conveyed the intelligence secretly tothe Venetian. 

Sir John now acknowledged that he had suspected as much when he receivedthe message; and not to be taken by surprise, he had come prepared witha long apology, ending, for peace sake, with the same formal invitationfor the Venetian. Now the Venetian insisted again that Sir John shoulddeliver the invitation in the _same precise words_ as it had been givento the Frenchman. Sir John, with his never-failing courtly docility, performed it to a syllable. Whether both parties during all theseproceedings could avoid moving a risible muscle at one another, ourgrave authority records not. 

The Venetian's final answer seemed now perfectly satisfactory, declaringhe would not excuse his absence as the Frenchman had, on the mostfrivolous pretence; and farther, he expressed his high satisfaction withlast year's substantial testimony of the royal favour, in the publichonours conferred on him, and regretted that the quiet of his majestyshould be so frequently disturbed by these _punctilios_ aboutinvitations, which so often "over-thronged his guests at the feast. "

Sir John now imagined that all was happily concluded, and was retiringwith the sweetness of a dove, and the quietness of a mouse, to fly tothe lord chamberlain, when behold the Venetian would not relinquish hishold, but turned on him "with the reading of another scruple, _et hincillæ lachrymæ!_ asking whether the archduke's ambassador was alsoinvited?" Poor Sir John, to keep himself clear "from categoricalasseverations, " declared "he could not resolve him. " Then the Venetianobserved, "Sir John was dissembling! and he hoped and imagined that SirJohn had in his instructions, that he was first to have gone to him(the Venetian), and on his return to the archduke's ambassador. " Mattersnow threatened to be as irreconcileable as ever, for it seems theVenetian was standing on the point of precedency with the archduke'sambassador. The political Sir John, wishing to gratify the Venetian atno expense, adds, "he thought it ill manners to mar a belief of anambassador's making, " and so allowed him to think that he had beeninvited before the archduke's ambassador!

This Venetian proved himself to be, to the great torment of Sir John, astupendous genius in his own way; ever on the watch to be treated _alparo di teste coronate_--equal with crowned heads; and, when at a tilt, refused being placed among the ambassadors of Savoy and theStates-general, &c. , while the Spanish and French ambassadors wereseated alone on the opposite side. The Venetian declared that this wouldbe a diminution of his quality; _the first place of an inferior degreebeing ever held worse than the last of a superior_. This refinedobservation delighted Sir John, who dignifies it as an axiom, yetafterwards came to doubt it with a _sed de hoc quære_--query this! If itbe true in politics, it is not so in common sense, according to theproverbs of both nations; for the honest English declares, that "Betterbe the _head_ of the yeomanry than the _tail_ of the gentry;" while thesubtle Italian has it, "_E meglio esser testa di Luccio, che coda diStorione_;" "better be the head of a pike than the tail of a sturgeon. "But before we quit Sir John, let us hear him in his own words, reasoningwith fine critical tact, which he undoubtedly possessed, on right andleft hands, but reasoning with infinite modesty as well as genius. Hearthis sage of _punctilios_, this philosopher of courtesies. 

"The Axiom before delivered by the Venetian ambassador was _judged_ upon_discourse_ I had with _some of understanding_, to be of value in a_distinct company, but might be otherwise in a joint assembly_!" Andthen Sir John, like a philosophical historian, explores some greatpublic event--"As at the conclusion of the peace at Vervins (the onlypart of the peace he cared about), the French and Spanish meeting, contended for precedence--who should sit at the right hand of the pope's_legate_: an expedient was found, of sending into France for the pope's_nuncio_ residing there, who, seated at the right hand of the said_legate_ (the legate himself sitting at the table's end), the Frenchambassador being offered the choice of the next place, he took that atthe legate's left hand, leaving the second at the right hand to theSpanish, who, taking it, persuaded himself to have the better of it;_sed de hoc quære_. " How modestly, yet how shrewdly insinuated!

So much, if not too much, of the Diary of a Master of the Ceremonies;where the important personages strangely contrast with the frivolity andfoppery of their actions. 

By this work it appears that all foreign ambassadors were entirelyentertained, for their diet, lodgings, coaches, with all their train, atthe cost of the English monarch, and on their departure receivedcustomary presents of considerable value; from 1000 to 5000 ounces ofgilt plate; and in more cases than one, the meanest complaints were madeby the ambassadors about short allowances. That the foreign ambassadorsin return made presents to the masters of the ceremonies from thirty tofifty "pieces, " or in plate or jewels; and some so grudgingly, that SirJohn Finett often vents his indignation, and commemorates the indignity. As thus, --on one of the Spanish ambassadors-extraordinary waiting atDeal for three days, Sir John, "expecting the wind with the patience ofan _hungry entertainment_ from a _close-handed ambassador_, as his_present to me_ at his parting from Dover being but an old gilt liverypot, that had lost his fellow, not worth above twelve pounds, accompanied with two pair of Spanish gloves to make it almost thirteen, to my shame and his. " When he left this scurvy ambassador-extraordinaryto his fate aboard the ship, he exults that "the cross-winds held him inthe Downs almost a seven-night before they would blow him over. "

From this mode of receiving ambassadors, two inconveniences resulted;their perpetual jars of _punctilio_, and their singular intrigues toobtain precedence, which so completely harassed the patience of the mostpacific sovereign, that James was compelled to make great alterations inhis domestic comforts, and was perpetually embroiled in the mostridiculous contests. At length Charles I. Perceived the great charge ofthese embassies, ordinary and extraordinary, often on frivolouspretences; and with an empty treasury, and an uncomplying parliament, hegrew less anxious for such ruinous honours. [100] He gave notice toforeign ambassadors, that he should not any more "defray their diet, nor provide coaches for them, " &c. "This frugal purpose" cost Sir Johnmany altercations, who seems to view it as the glory of the Britishmonarch being on the wane. The unsettled state of Charles was appearingin 1636, by the querulous narrative of the master of the ceremonies; theetiquettes of the court were disturbed by the erratic course of itsgreat star; and the master of the ceremonies was reduced to keep blankletters to superscribe, and address to any nobleman who was to be found, from the absence of the great officers of state. On this occasion theambassador of the Duke of Mantua, who had long desired his partingaudience, when the king objected to the unfitness of the place he wasthen in, replied, that, "if it were under a tree, it should be to him asa palace. "

Yet although we smile at this science of etiquette and these rigid formsof ceremony, when they were altogether discarded a great statesmanlamented them, and found the inconvenience and mischief in the politicalconsequences which followed their neglect. Charles II. , who was noadmirer of these regulated formalities of court etiquette, seems to havebroken up the pomp and pride of the former master of the ceremonies; andthe grave and great chancellor of human nature, as Warburton callsClarendon, censured and felt all the inconveniences of this openintercourse of an ambassador with the king. Thus he observed in the caseof the Spanish ambassador, who, he writes, "took the advantage of thelicense of the court, where no rules or formalities were yet established(and to which the king himself was not enough inclined), but all doorsopen to all persons; which the ambassador finding, he made himself adomestic, came to the king at all hours, and spake to him when, and aslong as he would, without any ceremony, or _desiring an audienceaccording to the old custom_; but came into the bed-chamber while theking was dressing himself, and mingled in all discourses with the samefreedom he would use in his own. And from this never-heard-of license, introduced by the _French_ and the _Spaniard at this time, without anydislike in the king, though not permitted in any court in Christendom_, many inconveniences and mischiefs broke in, which could never after beshut out. "[101]

DIARIES--MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND CRITICAL. 

We converse with the absent by letters, and with ourselves by diaries;but vanity is more gratified by dedicating its time to the littlelabours which have a chance of immediate notice, and may circulate fromhand to hand, than by the honester pages of a volume reserved only forsolitary contemplation; or to be a future relic of ourselves, when weshall no more hear of ourselves. 

Marcus Antoninus's celebrated work entitled Των εις εαυτον, _Of thethings which concern himself_, would be a good definition of the use andpurpose of a diary. Shaftesbury calls a diary, "A fault-book, " intendedfor self-correction; and a Colonel Harwood, in the reign of Charles theFirst, kept a diary, which, in the spirit of the times, he entitled"Slips, Infirmities, and Passages of Providence. " Such a diary is amoral instrument, should the writer exercise it on himself, and on allaround him. Men then wrote folios concerning themselves; and itsometimes happened, as proved by many, which I have examined inmanuscript, that often writing in retirement, they would write when theyhad nothing to write. 

Diaries must be out of date in a lounging age, although I have myselfknown several who have continued the practice with pleasure andutility. [102] One of our old writers quaintly observes, that "theancients used to take their stomach-pill of self-examination everynight. Some used little books, or tablets, which they tied at theirgirdles, in which they kept a memorial of what they did, against theirnight-reckoning. " We know that Titus, the delight of mankind, as he hasbeen called, kept a diary of all his actions, and when at night hefound upon examination that he had performed nothing memorable, hewould exclaim, "_Amici! diem perdidimus!_" Friends! we have lost a day!

Among our own countrymen, in times more favourable for a concentratedmind than in this age of scattered thoughts and of the fragments ofgenius, the custom long prevailed: and we their posterity are stillreaping the benefit of their lonely hours and diurnal records. It isalways pleasing to recollect the name of Alfred, and we have deeply toregret the loss of a manual which this monarch, so strict a manager ofhis time, yet found leisure to pursue: it would have interested us muchmore even than his translations, which have come down to us. Alfredcarried in his bosom memorandum leaves, in which he made collectionsfrom his studies, and took so much pleasure in the frequent examinationof this journal, that he called it his _hand-book_, because, saysSpelman, day and night he ever had it in hand with him. This manual, asmy learned friend Mr. Turner, in his elaborate and philosophical Life ofAlfred, has shown by some curious extracts from Malmsbury, was therepository of his own occasional literary reflections. An association ofideas connects two other of our illustrious princes with Alfred. 

Prince Henry, the son of James I. , our English Marcellus, who was weptby all the Muses, and mourned by all the brave in Britain, devoted agreat portion of his time to literary intercourse; and the finestgeniuses of the age addressed their works to him, and wrote several atthe prince's suggestion. Dallington, in the preface to his curious"Aphorisms, Civil and Militarie, " has described Prince Henry's domesticlife: "Myself, " says he, "the unablest of many in that academy, for sowas his family, had this _especial employment for his proper use_, whichhe pleased favourably to entertain, and _often to read over_. "

The diary of Edward VI. , written with his own hand, conveys a notion ofthat precocity of intellect, in that early educated prince, which wouldnot suffer his infirm health to relax in his royal duties. This princewas solemnly struck with the feeling that he was not seated on a throneto be a trifler or a sensualist: and this simplicity of mind is veryremarkable in the entries of his diary; where, on one occasion, toremind himself of the causes of his secret proffer of friendship to aidthe Emperor of Germany with men against the Turk, and to keep it atpresent secret from the French court, the young monarch inserts, "Thiswas done on intent to get some friends. The reasonings be in my desk. "So zealous was he to have before him a state of public affairs, thatoften in the middle of the month he recalls to mind passages which hehad omitted in the beginning: what was done every day of moment, heretired into his study to set down. --Even James the Second wrote withhis own hand the daily occurrences of his times, his reflections andconjectures. Adversity had schooled him into reflection, and softenedinto humanity a spirit of bigotry; and it is something in his favour, that after his abdication he collected his thoughts, and mortifiedhimself by the penance of a diary. --Could a Clive or a Cromwell havecomposed one? Neither of these men could suffer solitude and darkness;they started at their casual recollections:--what would they have done, had memory marshalled their crimes, and arranged them in the terrors ofchronology?

When the national character retained more originality and individualitythan our monotonous habits now admit, our later ancestors displayed alove of application, which was a source of happiness, quite lost to us. Till the middle of the last century they were as great economists oftheir time as of their estates; and life with them was not one hurriedyet tedious festival. Living more within themselves, more separated, they were therefore more original in their prejudices, their principles, and in the constitution of their minds. They resided more on theirestates, and the metropolis was usually resigned to the men of trade intheir Royal Exchange, and the preferment-hunters among the backstairs atWhitehall. Lord Clarendon tells us, in his "Life, " that his grandfather, in James the First's time, had never been in London after the death ofElizabeth, though he lived thirty years afterwards; and his wife, towhom he had been married forty years, had never once visited themetropolis. On this fact he makes a curious observation: "The wisdom andfrugality of that time being such, that few gentlemen made journeys toLondon, or any other expensive journey, but upon important business, andtheir wives never; by which Providence they enjoyed and improved theirestates in the country, and kept good hospitality in their house, brought up their children well, and were beloved by their neighbours. "This will appear a very coarse homespun happiness, and these must seemvery gross virtues to our artificial feelings; yet this assuredlycreated a national character; made a patriot of every countrygentleman; and, finally, produced in the civil wars some of the mostsublime and original characters that ever acted a great part on thetheatre of human life. 

This was the age of DIARIES! The head of almost every family formed one. Ridiculous people may have written ridiculous diaries, as EliasAshmole's;[103] but many of our greatest characters in public life haveleft such monuments of their diurnal labours. 

These diaries were a substitute to every thinking man for ournewspapers, magazines, and Annual Registers; but those who imagine that_these_ are a substitute for the scenical and dramatic life of the diaryof a man of genius, like Swift, who wrote one, or even of a livelyobserver, who lived amidst the scenes he describes, as Horace Walpole'sletters to Sir Horace Mann, which form a regular diary, only show thatthey are better acquainted with the more ephemeral and equivocallabours. 

There is a curious passage in a letter of Sir Thomas Bodley, recommending to Sir Francis Bacon, then a young man on his travels, themode by which he should make his life "profitable to his country and hisfriends. " His expressions are remarkable. "Let all these riches betreasured up, not only in your memory, where time may lessen your stock, but rather in _good writings_ and _books of account_, which will keepthem safe for your use hereafter. " By these _good writings_ and _booksof account_, he describes the diaries of a student and an observer;these "good writings" will preserve what wear out in the memory, andthese "books of account" render to a man an account of himself tohimself. 

It was this solitary reflection and industry which assuredly contributedso largely to form the gigantic minds of the Seldens, the Camdens, theCokes, and others of that vigorous age of genius. When Coke fell intodisgrace, and retired into private life, the discarded statesman did notpule himself into a lethargy, but on the contrary seemed almost torejoice that an opportunity was at length afforded him of indulging instudies more congenial to his feelings. Then he found leisure not onlyto revise his former writings, which were thirty volumes written withhis own hand, but, what most pleased him, he was enabled to write amanual, which he called _Vade Mecum_, and which contained aretrospective view of his life, since he noted in that volume the mostremarkable occurrences which happened to him. It is not probable thatsuch a MS. Could have been destroyed but by accident; and it might, perhaps, yet be recovered. 

"The interest of the public was the business of Camden's life, " observesBishop Gibson; and, indeed, this was the character of the men of thatage. Camden kept a diary of all occurrences in the reign of James theFirst; not that at his advanced age, and with his infirm health, hecould ever imagine that he should make use of these materials; but hedid this, inspired by the love of truth, and of that labour whichdelights in preparing its materials for posterity. Bishop Gibson hasmade an important observation on the nature of such a diary, whichcannot be too often repeated to those who have the opportunities offorming one; and for them I transcribe it. "Were this practised bypersons of learning and curiosity, who have opportunities of seeing intothe public affairs of a kingdom, the short hints and strictures of thiskind would often set things in a truer light than regular histories. "

A student of this class was Sir Symonds D'Ewes, an independent countrygentleman, to whose zeal we owe the valuable journals of parliament inElizabeth's reign, and who has left in manuscript a voluminous diary, from which may be drawn some curious matters. [104] In the preface to hisjournals, he has presented a noble picture of his literary reveries, andthe intended productions of his pen. They will animate the youthfulstudent, and show the active genius of the gentlemen of that day. Thepresent diarist observes, "Having now finished these volumes, I havealready entered upon other and greater labours, conceiving myself not tobe born for myself alone, "Qui vivat sibi solus, homo nequit esse beatus, Malo mori, nam sic vivere nolo mihi. "

He then gives a list of his intended historical works, and adds, "TheseI have proposed to myself to labour in, besides divers others, smallerworks: like him that shoots at the sun, not in hopes to reach it, but toshoot as high as possibly his strength, art, or skill will permit. Sothough I know it impossible to finish all these during my short anduncertain life, having already entered into the thirtieth year of myage, and having many unavoidable cares of an estate and family, yet, ifI can finish a little in each kind, it may hereafter stir up some ablejudges to add an end to the whole:

 "Sic mihi contingat vivere, sicque mori. "

Richard Baxter, whose facility and diligence, it is said, produced onehundred and forty-five distinct works, wrote, as he himself says, "inthe crowd of all my other employments. " Assuredly the one which mayexcite astonishment is his voluminous autobiography, forming a folio ofmore than seven hundred closely-printed pages; a history which takes aconsiderable compass, from 1615 to 1684; whose writer pries into thevery seed of events, and whose personal knowledge of the leading actorsof his times throws a perpetual interest over his lengthened pages. Yetthis was not written with a view of publication by himself; he stillcontinued this work, till time and strength wore out the hand that couldno longer hold the pen, and left it to the judgment of others whether itshould be given to the world. 

These were private persons. It may excite our surprise to discover thatour statesmen, and others engaged in active public life, occupiedthemselves with the same habitual attention to what was passing aroundthem in the form of diaries, or their own memoirs, or in formingcollections for future times, with no possible view but for posthumousutility. They seem to have been inspired by the most genuine passion ofpatriotism, and an awful love of posterity. What motive less powerfulcould induce many noblemen and gentlemen to transcribe volumes; totransmit to posterity authentic narratives, which would not even admitof contemporary notice; either because the facts were then well known toall, or of so secret a nature as to render them dangerous to becommunicated to their own times. They sought neither fame nor interest:for many collections of this nature have come down to us without eventhe names of the scribes, which have been usually discovered byaccidental circumstances. It may be said that this toil was the pleasureof idle men:--the idlers then were of a distinct race from our own. There is scarcely a person of reputation among them, who has not leftsuch laborious records of himself. I intend drawing up a list of suchdiaries and memoirs, which derive their importance from diariststhemselves. Even the women of this time partook of the same thoughtfuldispositions. It appears that the Duchess of York, wife to James theSecond, and the daughter of Clarendon, drew up a narrative of his life;the celebrated Duchess of Newcastle has formed a dignified biography ofher husband; Lady Fanshaw's Memoirs have been recently published; andMrs. Hutchinson's Memoirs of her Colonel have delighted every curiousreader. 

Whitelocke's "Memorials" is a diary full of important public matters;and the noble editor, the Earl of Anglesea, observes, that "our authornot only served the state, in several stations, both at home and inforeign countries, but likewise conversed with books, and made himself alarge provision from his studies and contemplation, like that nobleRoman Portius Cato, as described by Nepos. He was all along so much inbusiness, one would not imagine he ever had leisure for books; yet, whoconsiders his studies might believe he had been always shut up with hisfriend Selden, and the dust of action never fallen on his gown. " WhenWhitelocke was sent on an embassy to Sweden, he journalised it; itamounts to two bulky quartos, extremely curious. He has even left us aHistory of England. 

Yet all is not told of Whitelocke; and we have deeply to regret theloss, or at least the concealment, of a work addressed to his family, which apparently would be still more interesting, as exhibiting hisdomestic habits and feelings, and affording a model for those in publiclife who had the spirit to imitate such greatness of mind, of which wehave not many examples. --Whitelocke had drawn up a great work, which heentitled, "_Remembrances of the Labours of Whitelocke in the Annales ofhis Life, for the instruction of his Children_. " To Dr. Morton, theeditor of Whitelocke's "Journal of the Swedish Ambassy, " we owe thenotice of this work; and I shall transcribe his dignified feelings inregretting the want of these MSS. "Such a work, and by such a father, isbecome the inheritance of every child, whose abilities and station inlife may at any time hereafter call upon him to deliberate for hiscountry, --and for his family and person, as parts of the great whole;and I confess myself to be one of those who lament the suppression ofthat branch of the _Annales_ which relates to the author himself in his_private capacity_; they would have afforded great pleasure as well asinstruction to the world in their entire form. The first volume, containing the first twenty years of his life, may one day see thelight; but the greatest part has hitherto escaped my inquiries. " This isall we know of a work of equal moral and philosophical curiosity. Thepreface, however, to these "Remembrances, " has been fortunatelypreserved, and it is an extraordinary production. In this it appearsthat Whitelocke himself owed the first idea of his own work to one leftby his father, which existed in the family, and to which he repeatedlyrefers his children. He says, "The memory and worth of your deceasedgrandfather deserves all honour and imitation, both from you and me; his'Liber Famelicus, ' his own story, written by himself, _will be left toyou_, and was an encouragement and precedent to this larger work. " Hereis a family picture quite new to us; the heads of the house are itshistorians, and these records of the heart were animated by examples andprecepts, drawn from their own bosoms; and, as Whitelocke feelinglyexpresses it, "all is recommended to the perusal and intended for theinstruction of my own house; and almost in every page you will find adedication to you, my dear children. "

The habit of laborious studies, and a zealous attention to the historyof his own times, produced the Register and Chronicle of Bishop Kennett. "Containing matters of fact, delivered in the words of the mostauthentic papers and records, all daily entered and commented on:" itincludes an account of all pamphlets as they appeared. This history, more valuable to us than to his own contemporaries, occupied two largefolios, of which only one has been printed: a zealous labour, whichcould only have been carried on from a motive of pure patriotism. It is, however, but a small part of the diligence of the bishop, since his ownmanuscripts form a small library of themselves. 

The malignant vengeance of Prynne in exposing the diary of Laud to thepublic eye, lost all its purpose, for nothing appeared more favourableto Laud than this exposition of his private diary. We forget theharshness in the personal manners of Laud himself, and sympathise evenwith his errors, when we turn over the simple leaves of this diary, which obviously was not intended for any purpose but for his own privateeye and collected meditations. [105] There his whole heart is laid open:his errors are not concealed, and the purity of his intentions isestablished. Laud, who too haughtily blended the prime minister with thearchbishop, still, from conscientious motives, in the hurry of publicduties, and in the pomp of public honours, could steal aside intosolitude, to account to God and himself for every day, and "the evilthereof. "

The diary of Henry Earl of Clarendon, who inherited the industry of hisfather, has partly escaped destruction; it presents us with a picture ofthe manners of the age, from whence, says Bishop Douglas, we may learnthat at the close of the last century, a man of the first quality madeit his constant practice to pass his time without shaking his arm at agaming-table, associating with jockeys at Newmarket, or murdering timeby a constant round of giddy dissipation, if not of criminal indulgence. Diaries were not uncommon in the last age: Lord Anglesea, who made sogreat a figure in the reign of Charles the Second, left one behind him;and one said to have been written by the Duke of Shrewsbury stillexists. 

But the most admirable example is Lord Clarendon's History of his own"Life, " or rather of the court, and every event and person passingbefore him. In this moving scene he copies nature with freedom, and hasexquisitely touched the individual character. There that great statesmanopens the most concealed transactions, and traces the views of the mostopposite dispositions; and, though engaged, when in exile, in furtheringthe royal intercourse with the loyalists, and when, on the Restoration, conducting the difficult affairs of a great nation, a careless monarch, and a dissipated court, yet besides his immortal history of the civilwars, "the chancellor of human nature" passed his life in habitualreflection, and his pen in daily employment. Such was the admirableindustry of our later ancestors: their diaries and their memoirs are itsmonuments!

James the Second is an illustrious instance of the admirable industry ofour ancestors. With his own hand this prince wrote down the chiefoccurrences of his times, and often his instant reflections andconjectures. Perhaps no sovereign prince, said Macpherson, has beenknown to have left behind him better materials for history. We at lengthpossess a considerable portion of his diary, which is that of a man ofbusiness and of honest intentions, containing many remarkable factswhich had otherwise escaped from our historians. 

The literary man has formed diaries purely of his studies, and thepractice may he called _journalising the mind_, in a summary of studies, and a register of loose hints and _sbozzos_, that sometimes happilyoccur; and like Ringelbergius, that enthusiast for study, whose animatedexhortations to young students have been aptly compared to the sound ofa trumpet in the field of battle, marked down every night, before goingto sleep, what had been done during the studious day. Of this class ofdiaries, Gibbon has given us an illustrious model: and there is anunpublished quarto of the late Barré Roberts, a young student of genius, devoted to curious researches, which deserves to meet the publiceye. [106] I should like to see a little book published with this title, "_Otium delitiosum in quo objecta vel in actione, vel in lectione, velin visione ad singulos dies Anni 1629 observata representantur_. " Thiswriter was a German, who boldly published for the course of one year, whatever he read or had seen every day in that year. As an experiment, if honestly performed, this might be curious to the philosophicalobserver; but to write down everything, may end in something likenothing. 

A great poetical contemporary of our own country does not think thateven Dreams should pass away unnoticed; and he calls this register his_Nocturnals_. His dreams are assuredly poetical; as Laud's, whojournalised his, seem to have been made up of the affairs of state andreligion;--the personages are his patrons, his enemies, and others; hisdreams are scenical and dramatic. Works of this nature are not designedfor the public eye; they are domestic annals, to be guarded in thelittle archives of a family; they are offerings cast before our Lares. 

 Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace The forms our pencil or our pen design'd; Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face, Such the soft image of our youthful mind. SHENSTONE. 

LICENSERS OF THE PRESS. 

In the history of literature, and perhaps in that of the human mind, theinstitution of the LICENSERS OF THE PRESS, and CENSORS OF BOOKS, was abold invention, designed to counteract that of the Press itself; andeven to convert this newly-discovered instrument of human freedom intoone which might serve to perpetuate that system of passive obediencewhich had so long enabled modern Rome to dictate her laws to theuniverse. It was thought possible in the subtlety of Italian _astuzia_and Spanish monachism, to place a sentinel on the very thoughts as wellas on the persons of authors; and in extreme cases, that books might becondemned to the flames as well as heretics. 

Of this institution, the beginnings are obscure, for it originated incaution and fear; but as the work betrays the workman, and the nationalphysiognomy the native, it is evident that so inquisitorial an act couldonly have originated in the Inquisition itself. Feeble or partialattempts might previously have existed, for we learn that the monks hada part of their libraries called the _inferno_, which was not the partwhich they least visited, for it contained, or hid, all the prohibitedbooks which they could smuggle into it. But this inquisitorial powerassumed its most formidable shape in the council of Trent, when somegloomy spirits from Rome and Madrid foresaw the revolution of this newage of books. The triple-crowned pontiff had in vain rolled the thundersof the Vatican, to strike out of the hands of all men the volumes ofWickliffe, of Huss, and of Luther, and even menaced their eager readerswith death. At this council Pius IV. Was presented with a catalogue ofbooks of which they denounced that the perusal ought to be forbidden;his bull not only confirmed this list of the condemned, but added ruleshow books should be judged. Subsequent popes enlarged these catalogues, and added to the rules, as the monstrous novelties started up. Inquisitors of books were appointed; at Rome they consisted of certaincardinals and "the master of the holy palace;" and literary inquisitorswere elected at Madrid, at Lisbon, at Naples, and for the Low Countries;they were watching the ubiquity of the human mind. These catalogues ofprohibited books were called _Indexes_; and at Rome a body of theseliterary despots are still called "the Congregation of the Index. " Thesimple _Index_ is a list of condemned books which are never to beopened; but the _Expurgatory Index_ indicates those only prohibited tillthey have undergone a purification. No book was allowed to be on anysubject, or in any language, which contained a single position, anambiguous sentence, even a word, which, in the most distant sense, couldbe construed opposite to the doctrines of the supreme authority of thiscouncil of Trent; where it seems to have been enacted, that all men, literate and illiterate, prince and peasant, the Italian, the Spaniardand the Netherlander, should take the mint-stamp of their thoughts fromthe council of Trent, and millions of souls be struck off at one blow, out of the same used mould. 

The sages who compiled these Indexes, indeed, long had reason to imaginethat passive obedience was attached to the human character: andtherefore they considered, that the publications of their adversariesrequired no other notice than a convenient insertion in their indexes. But the heretics diligently reprinted them with ample prefaces anduseful annotations; Dr. James, of Oxford, republished an Index with dueanimadversions. The parties made an opposite use of them: while thecatholic crossed himself at every title, the heretic would purchase nobook which had not been indexed. One of their portions exposed a list ofthose authors whose heads were condemned as well as their books: it wasa catalogue of men of genius. 

The results of these indexes were somewhat curious. As they were formedin different countries, the opinions were often diametrically oppositeto each other. The learned Arias Montanus, who was a chief inquisitor inthe Netherlands, and concerned in the Antwerp Index, lived to see hisown works placed in the Roman Index; while the inquisitor of Naples wasso displeased with the Spanish Index, that he persisted to assert thatit had never been printed at Madrid! Men who began by insisting that allthe world should not differ from their opinions, ended by not agreeingwith themselves. A civil war raged among the Index-makers; and if onecriminated, the other retaliated. If one discovered ten places necessaryto be expurgated, another found thirty, and a third inclined to placethe whole work in the condemned list. The inquisitors at length becameso doubtful of their own opinions, that they sometimes expressed intheir license for printing, that "they tolerated the reading, after thebook had been corrected by themselves, till such time as the work shouldbe considered worthy of some farther correction. " The expurgatoryIndexes excited louder complaints than those which simply condemnedbooks; because the purgers and castrators, as they were termed, or asMilton calls them, "the executioners of books, " by omitting, orinterpolating passages, made an author say, or unsay, what theinquisitors chose; and their editions, after the death of the authors, were compared to the erasures or forgeries in records: for the bookswhich an author leaves behind him, with his last corrections, are likehis last will and testament, and the public are the legitimate heirs ofan author's opinions. 

The whole process of these expurgatory Indexes, that "rakes through theentrails of many an old good author, with a violation worse than anycould be offered to his tomb, " as Milton says, must inevitably draw offthe life-blood, and leave an author a mere spectre! A book in Spain andPortugal passes through six or seven courts before it can be published, and is supposed to recommend itself by the information, that it ispublished with _all_ the necessary privileges. They would sometimes keepworks from publication till they had "properly qualified them, _interemse calficam_, " which in one case is said to have occupied themduring forty years. Authors of genius have taken fright at the gripe of"the master of the holy palace, " or the lacerating scratches of the"corrector-general por su magestad. " At Madrid and Lisbon, and even atRome, this licensing of books has confined most of their authors to thebody of the good fathers themselves. 

The Commentaries on the Lusiad, by Faria de Souza, had occupied hiszealous labours for twenty-five years, and were favourably received bythe learned. But the commentator was brought before this tribunal ofcriticism and religion, as suspected of heretical opinions; when theaccuser did not succeed before the inquisitors of Madrid, he carried thecharge to that of Lisbon: an injunction was immediately issued to forbidthe sale of the Commentaries, and it cost the commentator an elaboratedefence, to demonstrate the catholicism of the poet and himself. TheCommentaries finally were released from perpetual imprisonment. 

This system has prospered to admiration, in keeping public opinion downto a certain meanness of spirit, and happily preserved stationary thechildish stupidity through the nation, on which so much depended. 

Nani's History of Venice is allowed to be printed, because it contained_nothing against princes_. Princes then were either immaculate orhistorians false. The History of Guicciardini is still scarred with themerciless wound of the papistic censor; and a curious account of theorigin and increase of papal power was long wanting in the third andfourth book of his history. Velly's History of France would have been anadmirable work had it not been printed at Paris!

When the insertions in the Index were found of no other use than tobring the peccant volumes under the eyes of the curious, they employedthe secular arm in burning them in public places. The history of theseliterary conflagrations has often been traced by writers of oppositeparties; for the truth is, that both used them: zealots seem all formedof one material, whatever be their party. They had yet to learn, thatburning was not confuting, and that these public fires were anadvertisement by proclamation. The publisher of Erasmus's Colloquiesintrigued to procure the burning of his book, which raised the sale totwenty-four thousand!

A curious literary anecdote has reached us of the times of Henry VIII. Tonstall, Bishop of London, accused at that day for his moderation inpreferring the burning of books to that of authors, which was thengetting into practice, to testify his abhorrence of Tindal's principles, who had printed a translation of the New Testament, a sealed book forthe multitude, thought of purchasing all the copies of Tindal'stranslation, and annihilating them in the common flame. This occurred tohim when passing through Antwerp in 1529, then a place of refuge for theTindalists. He employed an English merchant there for this business, whohappened to be a secret follower of Tindal, and acquainted him with thebishop's intention. Tindal was extremely glad to hear of the project, for he was desirous of printing a more correct edition of his version;the first impression still hung on his hands, and he was too poor tomake a new one; he gladly furnished the English merchant with all hisunsold copies, which the bishop as eagerly bought, and had them allpublicly burnt in Cheapside. The people not only declared this was a"burning of the word of God, " but it inflamed the desire of reading thatvolume; and the second edition was sought after at any price. When oneof the Tindalists, who was sent here to sell them, was promised by thelord chancellor, in a private examination, that he should not suffer ifhe would reveal who encouraged and supported his party at Antwerp, theTindalist immediately accepted the offer, and assured the lordchancellor that the greatest encouragement they had was from Tonstall, the Bishop of London, who had bought up half the impression, and enabledthem to produce a second!

In the reign of Henry VIII. We seem to have burnt books on both sides;it was an age of unsettled opinions; in Edward's, the Catholic workswere burnt; and Mary had her pyramids of Protestant volumes; inElizabeth's, political pamphlets fed the flames; and libels in the reignof James I. And his sons. 

Such was this black dwarf of literature, generated by Italian craft andSpanish monkery, which, however, was fondly adopted as it crept in amongall the nations of Europe. France cannot exactly fix on the era of her_Censeurs de Livres_; and we ourselves, who gave it its death-blow, found the custom prevail without any authority from our statutes. Thepractice of licensing books was unquestionably derived from theInquisition, and was applied here first to books of religion. Britainlong groaned under the leaden stamp of an _Imprimatur_. Oxford andCambridge still grasp at this shadow of departed literary despotism;they have their licensers and their _Imprimaturs_. Long, even in ourland, men of genius were either suffering the vigorous limbs of theirproductions to be shamefully mutilated in public, or voluntarilycommitted a literary suicide in their own manuscripts. Camden declaredthat he was not suffered to print all his Elizabeth, and sent thosepassages over to De Thou, the French historian, who printed his historyfaithfully two years after Camden's first edition, 1615. The samehappened to Lord Herbert's History of Henry VIII. Which has never beengiven according to the original, which is still in existence. In thepoems of Lord Brooke, we find a lacuna of the first twenty pages; it wasa poem on Religion, cancelled by the order of Archbishop Laud. The greatSir Matthew Hale ordered that none of his works should be printed afterhis death; as he apprehended that, in the licensing of them, some thingsmight be struck out or altered, which he had observed, not without someindignation, had been done to those of a learned friend; and hepreferred bequeathing his uncorrupted MSS. To the Society of Lincoln'sInn, as their only guardians, hoping that they were a treasure worthkeeping. Contemporary authors have frequent allusions to such books, imperfect and mutilated at the caprice or the violence of a licenser. 

The laws of England have never violated the freedom and the dignity ofits press. "There is no law to prevent the printing of any book inEngland, only a decree in the Star-chamber, " said the learnedSelden. [107] Proclamations were occasionally issued against authors andbooks; and foreign works were, at times, prohibited. The freedom of thepress was rather circumvented, than openly attacked, in the reign ofElizabeth, who dreaded the Roman Catholics, who were at once disputingher right to the throne, and the religion of the state. Foreignpublications, or "books from any parts beyond the seas, " were thereforeprohibited. [108] The press, however, was not free under the reign of asovereign, whose high-toned feelings, and the exigencies of the times, rendered as despotic in _deeds_, as the pacific James was in _words_. Although the press had then no restrictions, an author was always at themercy of the government. Elizabeth too had a keen scent after what shecalled treason, which she allowed to take in a large compass. Shecondemned one author (with his publisher) to have the hand cut off whichwrote his book; and she hanged another. [109] It was Sir Francis Bacon, or his father, who once pleasantly turned aside the keen edge of herregal vindictiveness; for when Elizabeth was inquiring whether anauthor, whose book she had given him to examine, was not guilty oftreason, he replied, "Not of treason, madam, but of robbery, if youplease; for he has taken all that is worth noticing in him from Tacitusand Sallust. " With the fear of Elizabeth before his eyes, Holinshedcastrated the volumes of his History. When Giles Fletcher, after hisRussian embassy, congratulated himself with having escaped with hishead, and on his return wrote a book called "The Russian Commonwealth, "describing its tyranny, Elizabeth forbad the publishing of the work. OurRussian merchants were frightened, for they petitioned the queen tosuppress the work; the original petition, with the offensive passages, exists among the Lansdowne manuscripts. It is curious to contrast thisfact with another better known, under the reign of William the Third;then the press had obtained its perfect freedom, and even the shadow ofthe sovereign could not pass between an author and his work. When theDanish ambassador complained to the king of the freedom which LordMolesworth had exercised on his master's government, in his Account ofDenmark, and hinted that, if a Dane had done the same with a King ofEngland, he would, on complaint, have taken the author's head off--"ThatI cannot do, " replied the sovereign of a free people; "but if youplease, I will tell him what you say, and he shall put it into the nextedition of his book. " What an immense interval between the feelings ofElizabeth and William, with hardly a century betwixt them!

James the First proclaimed Buchanan's history, and a political tract ofhis, at "the Mercat Cross;" and every one was to bring his copy "to beperusit and purgit of the offensive and extraordinare materis, " under aheavy penalty. Knox, whom Milton calls "the Reformer of a Kingdom, " wasalso curtailed; and "the sense of that great man shall, to allposterity, be lost for the fearfulness or the presumptuous rashness of aperfunctory licenser. "

The regular establishment of licensers of the press appeared underCharles the First. It must be placed among the projects of Laud, and theking, I suspect, inclined to it; for by a passage in a manuscript letterof the times, I find, that when Charles printed his speech on thedissolution of the parliament, which excited such general discontent, some one printed Queen Elizabeth's last speech as a companion-piece. This was presented to the king by his own printer, John Bill, not from apolitical motive, but merely by way of complaint that another hadprinted, without leave or license, that which, as the king's printer, heasserted was his own copyright. Charles does not seem to have beenpleased with the gift, and observed, "You printers print anything. "Three gentlemen of the bed-chamber, continues the writer, standing by, commended Mr. Bill very much, and prayed him to come oftener with suchrarities to the king, because they might do some good. [110]

One of the consequences of this persecution of the press was, theraising up of a new class of publishers, under the government of CharlesI. , those who became noted for what was then called "unlawful andunlicensed books. " Sparkes, the publisher of Prynne's "Histriomastix, "was of this class. I have elsewhere entered more particularly into thissubject. [111] The Presbyterian party in parliament, who thus found thepress closed on them, vehemently cried out for its freedom: and it wasimagined, that when they had ascended into power, the odious office of alicenser of the press would have been abolished; but these pretendedfriends of freedom, on the contrary, discovered themselves as tenderlyalive to the office as the old government, and maintained it with theextremest vigour. Such is the political history of mankind. 

The literary fate of Milton was remarkable: his genius was castratedalike by the monarchical and the republican government. The royallicenser expunged several passages from Milton's history, in whichMilton had painted the superstition, the pride, and the cunning of theSaxon monks, which the sagacious licenser applied to Charles II. And thebishops; but Milton had before suffered as merciless a mutilation fromhis old friends the republicans; who suppressed a bold picture, takenfrom life, which he had introduced into his History of the LongParliament and Assembly of Divines. Milton gave the unlicensed passagesto the Earl of Anglesea, a literary nobleman, the editor of Whitelocke'sMemorials; and the castrated passage, which could not be licensed in1670, was received with peculiar interest when separately published in1681. [112] "If there be found in an author's book one sentence of aventurous edge, uttered in the height of zeal, and who knows whether itmight not be the dictate of a divine spirit, yet not suiting every lowdecrepit humour of their own, they will not pardon him their dash. "

This office seems to have lain dormant a short time under Cromwell, fromthe scruples of a conscientious licenser, who desired the council ofstate, in 1649, for reasons given, to be discharged from thatemployment. This Mabot, the licenser, was evidently deeply touched byMilton's address for "The Liberty of Unlicensed Printing. " The officewas, however, revived on the restoration of Charles II. ; and through thereign of James II. The abuses of licensers were unquestionably notdiscouraged: their castrations of books reprinted appear to have beenvery artful; for in reprinting Gage's "Survey of the West Indies, " whichoriginally consisted of twenty-two chapters, in 1648 and 1657, with adedication to Sir Thomas Fairfax, --in 1677, after expunging the passagesin honour of Fairfax, the dedication is dexterously turned into apreface; and the twenty-second chapter being obnoxious for containingparticulars of the artifices of "the papalins, " as Milton calls thePapists, in converting the author, was entirely chopped away by thelicenser's hatchet. The castrated chapter, as usual, was preservedafterwards separately. Literary despotism at least is short-sighted inits views, for the expedients it employs are certain of overturningthemselves. 

On this subject we must not omit noticing one of the noblest and mosteloquent prose compositions of Milton; "the Areopagitica; a Speech forthe Liberty of Unlicensed Printing. " It is a work of love andinspiration, and breathing the most enlarged spirit of literature;separating, at an awful distance from the multitude, that character "whowas born to study and to love learning for itself, not for lucre, or anyother end, but, perhaps, for that lasting fame and perpetuity of praise, which God and good men have consented shall be the reward of those whosepublished labours advance the good of mankind. "

One part of this unparalleled effusion turns on "the quality which oughtto be in every licenser. " It will suit our new licensers of publicopinion, a laborious corps well known, who constitute themselves withoutan act of Star-chamber. I shall pick out but a few sentences, that I mayadd some little facts, casually preserved, of the ineptitude of such anofficer. 

 "He who is made judge to sit upon the birth or death of books, whether they may be wafted into this world or not, had need to be a man above the common measure, both studious, learned, and judicious; there may be else no mean mistakes in his censure. If he be of such worth as behoves him, there cannot be a more tedious and unpleasing journey-work, a greater loss of time levied upon his head, than to be made the perpetual reader of unchosen books and pamphlets. There is no book acceptable, unless at certain seasons; but to be enjoyned the reading of that at all times, whereof three pages would not down at any time, is an imposition which I cannot believe how he that values time and his own studies, or is but of a sensible nostril, should be able to endure. --What advantage is it to be a man over it is to be a boy at school, if we have only 'scaped the ferula to come under the fescue of an _Imprimatur_?--if serious and elaborate writings, as if they were no more than the theme of a grammar lad under his pedagogue, must not be uttered without the cursory eyes of a temporising licenser? When a man writes to the world, he summons up all his reason and deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely consults and confers with his judicious friends, as well as any that writ before him; if in this, the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he carry all his considerate diligence, all his midnight watchings, and expense of Palladian oil, to the hasty view of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps inferior in judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of book writing; and if he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print like a Punie with his guardian, and his censor's hand on the back of his title to be his bail and surety that he is no idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning. "

The reader may now follow the stream in the great original; I must, however, preserve one image of exquisite sarcasm. 

 "Debtors and delinquents walk about without a keeper; but inoffensive books must not stir forth without a visible jailor in their title; nor is it to the common people less than a reproach; for if we dare not trust them with an English pamphlet, what do we but censure them for a giddy, vitious, and ungrounded people, in such a sick and weak state of faith and discretion, as to be able to take nothing but thro' the glister-pipe of a licenser!"

The ignorance and stupidity of these censors were often, indeed, asremarkable as their exterminating spirit. The noble simile of Milton, ofSatan with the rising sun, in the first book of the Paradise Lost, hadnearly occasioned the suppression of our national epic: it was supposedto contain a treasonable allusion. The tragedy of Arminius, by onePaterson, who was an amanuensis of the poet Thomson, was intended forrepresentation, but the dramatic censor refused a license: as Edward andEleanora was not permitted to be performed, being considered a partywork, our sagacious state-critic imagined that Paterson's _own_ play wasin the same predicament by being in the same hand-writing! Malebranchesaid, that he could never obtain an approbation for his "Research afterTruth, " because it was unintelligible to his censors; at length Mezeray, the historian, approved of it as a book of geometry. Latterly, inFrance, it is said that the greatest geniuses were obliged to submittheir works to the critical understanding of persons who had formerlybeen low dependents on some man of quality, and who appear to havebrought the same servility of mind to the examination of works ofgenius. There is something, which, on the principle of incongruity andcontrast, becomes exquisitely ludicrous, in observing the works of menof genius allowed to be printed, and even commended, by certain personswho have never printed their names but to their licenses. One of thesegentlemen suppressed a work, because it contained principles ofgovernment which appeared to him not conformable to the laws of Moses. Another said to a geometrician--"I cannot permit the publication of yourbook: you dare to say, that, between two given points, the shortest lineis the straight line. Do you think me such an idiot as not to perceiveyour allusion? If your work appeared, I should make enemies of all thosewho find, by crooked ways, an easier admittance into court, than by astraight line. Consider their number!" This seems, however, to be anexcellent joke. At this moment the censors in Austria appear singularlyinept; for, not long ago, they condemned as heretical, two books; one ofwhich, entitled "_Principes de la Trigonométrie_, " the censor would notallow to be printed, because the _Trinity_, which he imagined to beincluded in trigonometry, was not permitted to be discussed: and theother, on the "Destruction of Insects, " he insisted had a covertallusion to the _Jesuits_, who, he conceived, were thus malignantlydesignated. 

A curious literary anecdote has been recorded of the learned RichardSimon. Compelled to insert in one of his works the qualifying opinionsof the censor of the Sorbonne, he inserted them within crotchets. But astrange misfortune attended this contrivance. The printer, who was notlet into the secret, printed the work without these essential marks: bywhich means the enraged author saw his own peculiar opinions overturnedin the very work written to maintain them!

These appear trifling minutiæ; and yet, like a hair in a watch, whichutterly destroys its progress, these little ineptiæ obliged writers tohave recourse to foreign presses; compelled a Montesquieu to write withconcealed ambiguity, and many to sign a recantation of principles whichthey could never change. The recantation of Selden, extorted from hishand on his suppressed "Historie of Tithes, " humiliated a great mind;but it could not remove a particle from the masses of his learning, nordarken the luminous conviction of his reasonings; nor did it diminishthe number of those who assented and now assent to his principles. Recantations usually prove the force of authority rather than the changeof opinion. When a Dr. Pocklington was condemned to make a recantation, he hit the etymology of the word, while he caught at the spirit--hebegan thus: "If _canto_ be to sing, _recanto_ is to sing again. " So thathe rechanted his offending opinions, by repeating them in his_recantation_. 

At the Revolution in England, licenses for the press ceased; but itsliberty did not commence till 1694, when every restraint was taken offby the firm and decisive tone of the Commons. It was granted, says ourphilosophic Hume, "to the great displeasure of the king and hisministers, who, seeing nowhere in any government, during present or pastages, any example of such unlimited freedom, doubted much of itssalutary effects; and probably thought that no books or writings wouldever so much improve the general understanding of men, as to render itsafe to entrust them with an indulgence so easily abused. "

And the present moment verifies the prescient conjecture of thephilosopher. Such is the licentiousness of our press, that some, notperhaps the most hostile to the cause of freedom, would not be averse tomanacle authors once more with an IMPRIMATUR. It will not be denied thatErasmus was a friend to the freedom of the press; yet he was so shockedat the licentiousness of Luther's pen, that there was a time when heconsidered it necessary to restrain its liberty. It was then as now. Erasmus had, indeed, been miserably calumniated, and expected futurelibels. I am glad, however, to observe, that he afterwards, on a moreimpartial investigation, confessed that such a remedy was much moredangerous than the disease. To restrain the liberty of the press, canonly be the interest of the individual, never that of the public; onemust be a patriot here: we must stand in the field with an unshieldedbreast, since the safety of the people is the supreme law. There were, in Milton's days, some who said of this institution, that, although theinventors were bad, the thing, for all that, might be good. "This may beso, " replies the vehement advocate for "unlicensed printing. " But as thecommonwealths have existed through all ages, and have forborne to useit, he sees no necessity for the invention; and held it as a dangerousand suspicious fruit from the tree which bore it. The ages of the wisestcommonwealths, Milton seems not to have recollected, were not diseasedwith the popular infection of publications, issuing at all hours, andpropagated with a celerity on which the ancients could not calculate. The learned Dr. _James_, who has denounced the invention of the_Indexes_, confesses, however, that it was not unuseful when itrestrained the publications of atheistic and immoral works. But it isour lot to bear with all the consequent evils, that we may preserve thegood inviolate; since, as the profound Hume has declared, "The LIBERTYOF BRITAIN IS GONE FOR EVER, when such attempts shall succeed. "

A constitutional sovereign will consider the freedom of the press as thesole organ of the feelings of the people. Calumniators he will leave tothe fate of calumny; a fate similar to those who, having overchargedtheir arms with the fellest intentions, find that the death which theyintended for others, in bursting, only annihilates themselves. 

OF ANAGRAMS AND ECHO VERSES. 

The "true" modern critics on our elder writers are apt to thunder theiranathemas on innocent heads: little versed in the eras of ourliterature, and the fashions of our wit, popular criticism must submitto be guided by the literary historian. 

Kippis condemns Sir Symonds D'Ewes for his admiration of two anagrams, expressive of the feelings of the times. It required the valour ofFalstaff to attack extinct anagrams; and our pretended English Baylethought himself secure in pronouncing all anagrammatists to be wantingin judgment and taste: yet, if this mechanical critic did not knowsomething of the state and nature of anagrams in Sir Symonds' day, hewas more deficient in that curiosity of literature which his workrequired, than plain honest Sir Symonds in the taste and judgment ofwhich he is so contemptuously deprived. The author who thus decides onthe tastes of another age by those of his own day, and whose knowledgeof the national literature does not extend beyond his own century, isneither historian nor critic. The truth is, that ANAGRAMS were then thefashionable amusements of the wittiest and the most learned. 

Kippis says, and others have repeated, "That Sir Symonds D'Ewes'sjudgment and taste, with regard to wit, were as contemptible as can wellbe imagined, will be evident from the following passage taken from hisaccount of Carr Earl of Somerset, and his wife: 'This discontent gavemany satirical wits occasion to vent themselves into stingie [stinging]libels, in which they spared neither the persons nor families of thatunfortunate pair. There came also two anagrams to my hands, _notunworthy to be owned by the rarest wits of this age_. ' These were, onevery descriptive of the lady, and the other, of an incident in whichthis infamous woman was so deeply criminated. 

 FRANCES HOWARD. THOMAS OVERBURIE. _Car finds a Whore. O! O! base Murther_. "

This sort of wit is not falser at least than the criticism which infersthat D'Ewes' "judgment and taste were as contemptible as can well be;"for he might have admired these anagrams, which, however, are not of thenicest construction, and yet not have been so destitute of thosequalities of which he is so authoritatively divested. 

Camden has a chapter in his "Remains" on ANAGRAMS, which he defines tobe a dissolution of a (person's) name into its letters, as its elements;and a new connexion into words is formed by their transposition, ifpossible, without addition, subtraction, or change of the letters: andthe words must make a sentence applicable to the person named. TheAnagram is complimentary or satirical; it may contain some allusion toan event, or describe some personal characteristic. [113]

Such difficult trifles it may be convenient at all times to discard;but, if ingenious minds can convert an ANAGRAM into a means ofexercising their ingenuity, the things themselves will necessarilybecome ingenious. No ingenuity can make an ACROSTIC ingenious; for thisis nothing but a mechanical arrangement of the letters of a name, andyet this literary folly long prevailed in Europe. 

As for ANAGRAMS, if antiquity can consecrate some follies, they are ofvery ancient date. They were classed, among the Hebrews, among thecabalistic sciences; they pretended to discover occult qualities inproper names; it was an oriental practice; and was caught by the Greeks. Plato had strange notions of the influence of _Anagrams_ when drawn outof persons' names; and the later Platonists are full of the mysteries ofthe anagrammatic virtues of names. The chimerical associations of thecharacter and qualities of a man with his name anagrammatised may oftenhave instigated to the choice of a vocation, or otherwise affected hisimagination. 

Lycophron has left some on record, --two on Ptolemæus Philadelphus, Kingof Egypt, and his Queen Arsinöe. The king's name was thusanagrammatised:--

 ΠΤΟΛΕΜΑΙΟΣ, Ἁπὁ μελιτος, MADE OF HONEY:

and the queen's, ΑΡΣΙΝΟΗ, Ἡρας ιον, JUNO'S VIOLET. 

Learning, which revived under Francis the First in France, did notdisdain to cultivate this small flower of wit. Daurat had such afelicity in making these trifles, that many illustrious persons senttheir names to him to be anagrammatised. Le Laboureur, the historian, was extremely pleased with the anagram made on the mistress of Charlesthe Ninth of France. Her name was

 _Marie Touchet_. JE CHARME TOUT:

which is historically just. 

In the assassin of Henry the Third, _Frère Jacques Clement_, they discovered

 C'EST L'ENFER QUI M'A CRÉE. 

I preserve a few specimens of some of our own anagrams. The mildness ofthe government of Elizabeth, contrasted with her intrepidity against theIberians, is thus picked out of her title; she is made the Englishewe-lamb, and the lioness of Spain:--

 _Elizabetha Regina Angliæ_. ANGLIS AGNA, HIBERIÆ LEA. 

The unhappy history of Mary Queen of Scots, the deprivation of herkingdom, and her violent death, were expressed in this Latin anagram:--

 _Maria Steuarda Scotorum Regina_: TRUSA VI REGNIS, MORTE AMARA CADO:

and in

 _Maria Stevarta_ VERITAS ARMATA. 

Another fanciful one on our James the First, whose rightful claim to theBritish monarchy, as the descendant of the visionary Arthur, could onlyhave satisfied genealogists of romance reading:--

 _Charles James Steuart_. CLAIMS ARTHUR'S SEAT. 

Sylvester, the translator of Du Bartas, considered himself fortunatewhen he found in the name of his sovereign the strongest bond ofaffection to his service. In the dedication he rings loyal changes onthe name of his liege, _James Stuart_ in which he finds _a just master!_

The anagram on Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle, on the restorationof Charles the Second, included an important date in our history:--

 _Georgius Monke, Dux de Aumarle. Ego regem reduxi An°Sa_. MDCLVV. 

A slight reversing of the letters in a name produced a happy compliment;as in _Vernon_ was found _Renoun_; and the celebrated Sir Thomas _Wiat_bore his own designation in his name, _a Wit_. [114] Of the poet _Waller_the anagrammatist said, His brows need not with Lawrel to be bound, Since in his _name_ with _Lawrel_ he is crown'd. 

_Randle Holmes_, who has written a very extraordinary volume onheraldry, was complimented by an expressive anagram:--

 _Lo, Men's Herald!_

These anagrams were often devoted to the personal attachments of love orfriendship. A friend delighted to twine his name with the name of hisfriend. _Crashawe_, the poet, had a literary intimate of the name of_Car_, who was his posthumous editor; and, in prefixing some elegiaclines, discovers that his late friend Crashawe was Car; for so theanagram of _Crashawe_ runs: _He was Car. _ On this quaint discovery, hehas indulged all the tenderness of his recollections:--

 Was Car then Crashawe, or was Crashawe Car? Since both within one name combined are. Yes, Car's Crashawe, he Car; 'tis Love alone Which melts two hearts, of both composing one, So Crashawe's still the same, &c. 

A happy anagram on a person's name might have a moral effect on thefeelings: as there is reason to believe, that certain celebrated nameshave had some influence on the personal character. When one _MarthaNicholson_ was found out to be _Soon calm in Heart_, the anagram, inbecoming familiar to her, might afford an opportune admonition. But, perhaps, the happiest of anagrams was produced on a singular person andoccasion. Lady Eleanor Davies, the wife of the celebrated Sir JohnDavies, the poet, was a very extraordinary character. She was theCassandra of her age; and several of her predictions warranted her toconceive she was a prophetess. As her prophecies in the troubled timesof Charles I. Were usually against the government, she was at lengthbrought by them into the court of High Commission. The prophetess wasnot a little mad, and fancied the spirit of Daniel was in her, from ananagram she had formed of her name--

 ELEANOR DAVIES. REVEAL O DANIEL!

The anagram had too much by an L, and too little by an s; yet _Daniel_and _reveal_ were in it, and that was sufficient to satisfy herinspirations. The court attempted to dispossess the spirit from thelady, while the bishops were in vain reasoning the point with her out ofthe scriptures, to no purpose, she poising text against text:--one ofthe deans of the Arches, says Heylin, "shot her thorough and thoroughwith an arrow borrowed from her own quiver:" he took a pen, and at lasthit upon this elegant anagram:

 DAME ELEANOR DAVIES. NEVER SO MAD A LADIE!

The happy fancy put the solemn court into laughter, and Cassandra intothe utmost dejection of spirit. Foiled by her own weapons, her spiritsuddenly forsook her; and either she never afterwards ventured onprophesying, or the anagram perpetually reminded her hearers of herstate--and we hear no more of this prophetess!

Thus much have I written in favour of Sir Symonds D'Ewes's keen relishof a "stingie anagram;" and on the error of those literary historians, who do not enter into the spirit of the age they are writing on. 

We find in the Scribleriad, the ANAGRAMS appearing in the land of falsewit. 

 But with still more disorder'd march advance, (Nor march it seem'd, but wild fantastic dance, ) The uncouth ANAGRAMS, distorted train, Shifting, in double mazes, o'er the plain. C. Ii. 161. 

The fine humour of Addison was never more playful than in his account ofthat anagrammatist, who, after shutting himself up for half a year, andhaving taken certain liberties with the name of his mistress, discovered, on presenting his anagram, that he had misspelt her surname;by which he was so thunderstruck with his misfortune, that in a littletime after he lost his senses, which, indeed, had been very muchimpaired by that continual application he had given to his anagram. 

One Frenzelius, a German, prided himself on perpetuating the name ofevery person of eminence who died by an anagram; but by the descriptionof the bodily pain he suffered on these occasions, when he shut himselfup for those rash attempts, he seems to have shared in the dying pangsof the mortals whom he so painfully celebrated. Others appear to havepractised this art with more facility. A French poet, deeply in love, inone day sent his mistress, whose name was _Magdelaine_, three dozen ofanagrams on her single name!

Even old Camden, who lived in the golden age of anagrams, notices the_difficilia quæ pulchra_, the charming difficulty, "as a whetstone ofpatience to them that shall practise it. For some have been seen to bitetheir pen, scratch their heads, bend their brows, bite their lips, beatthe board, tear their paper, when their names were fair for somewhat, and caught nothing therein. " Such was the troubled happiness of ananagrammatist: yet, adds our venerable author, notwithstanding "the soursort of critics, good anagrams yield a delightful comfort and pleasantmotion in honest minds. "[115]

When the mania of making ANAGRAMS prevailed, the little persons at courtflattered the great ones at inventing anagrams for them; and when thewit of the maker proved to be as barren as the letters of the name, theydropped or changed them, raving with the alphabet, and racking theirwits. Among the manuscripts of the grave Sir Julius Cæsar, one cannotbut smile at a bundle emphatically endorsed "Trash. " It is a collectionof these court-anagrams; a remarkable evidence of that ineptitude towhich mere fashionable wit can carry the frivolous. 

In consigning this intellectual exercise to oblivion, we must notconfound the miserable and the happy together. A man of genius would notconsume an hour in extracting even a fortunate anagram from a name, although on an extraordinary person or occasion its appositeness mightbe worth an epigram. Much of its merit will arise from the associationof ideas; a trifler can only produce what is trifling, but an elegantmind may delight by some elegant allusion, and a satirical one by itscausticity. We have some recent ones, which will not easily beforgotten. 

A similar contrivance, that of ECHO VERSES, may here be noticed. I havegiven a specimen of these in a modern French writer, whose sportive penhas thrown out so much wit and humour in his ECHOES. [116] Nothing oughtto be contemned which, in the hands of a man of genius, is convertedinto a medium of his talents. No verses have been considered morecontemptible than these, which, with all their kindred, have beenanathematised by Butler, in his exquisite character of "a small poet" inhis "Remains, " whom he describes as "tumbling through the hoop of ananagram" and "all those gambols of wit. " The philosophical critic willbe more tolerant than was the orthodox church wit of that day, who was, indeed, alarmed at the fantastical heresies which were then prevailing. I say not a word in favour of unmeaning ACROSTICS; but ANAGRAMS and ECHOVERSES may be shown capable of reflecting the ingenuity of their makers. I preserve a copy of ECHO VERSES, which exhibit a curious picture of thestate of our religious fanatics, the Roundheads of Charles I. , as anevidence, that in the hands of a wit even such things can be convertedinto the instruments of wit. 

At the end of a comedy presented at the entertainment of the prince, bythe scholars of Trinity College, Cambridge, in March, 1641, printed forJames Calvin, 1642, the author, Francis Cole, holds in a print a paperin one hand, and a round hat in the other. At the end of all is thishumorous little poem. 

 THE ECHO. 

 Now, Echo, on what's religion grounded? _Round-head!_ Whose its professors most considerable? _Rabble!_ How do these prove themselves to be the godly? _Oddly!_ But they in life are known to be the holy, _O lie!_ Who are these preachers, men or women-common? _Common!_ Come they from any universitie? _Citie!_ Do they not learning from their doctrine sever? _Ever!_ Yet they pretend that they do edifie: _O fie!_ What do you call it then, to fructify? _Ay. _ What church have they, and what pulpits? _Pitts!_ But now in chambers the Conventicle; _Tickle!_ The godly sisters shrewdly are belied. _Bellied!_ The godly number then will soon transcend. _End!_ As for the temples, they with zeal embrace them. _Rase them!_ What do they make of bishop's hierarchy? _Archie!_[117] Are crosses, images, ornaments their scandall? _All!_ Nor will they leave us many ceremonies. _Monies!_ Must even religion down for satisfaction? _Faction!_ How stand they affected to the government civil? _Evil!_ But to the king they say they are most loyal. _Lye all!_ Then God keep King and State from these same men. _Amen_!

ORTHOGRAPHY OF PROPER NAMES. 

We are often perplexed to decide how the names of some of our eminentmen ought to be written; and we find that they are even now writtendiversely. The truth is, that our orthography was so long unsettledamong us, that it appears by various documents of the times which I haveseen, that persons were at a loss how to write their own names, and mostcertainly have written them variously. I have sometimes suspected thatestates may have been lost, and descents confounded, by such uncertainand disagreeing signatures of the same person. In a late suit respectingthe Duchess of Norfolk's estate, one of the ancestors has his nameprinted _Higford_, while in the genealogy it appears _Hickford_. I thinkI have seen Ben _Jonson's_ name written by himself with an _h_; and_Dryden_ made use of an _i_. I have seen an injunction to printers withthe sign-manual of Charles II. , not to print Samuel _Boteler_ esquire'sbook or poem called Hudibras, without his consent; but I do not knowwhether Butler thus wrote his name. As late as in 1660, a Dr. _Crovne_was at such a loss to have his name pronounced rightly, that he triedsix different ways of writing it, as appears by printed books; Cron, Croon, Crovn, Crone, Croone, and Crovne; all of which appear under hisown hand, as he wrote it differently at different periods of his life. In the subscription book of the Royal Society he writes _W. Croone_, butin his will at the Commons he signs _W. Crovne_. _Ray_ the naturalistinforms us that he first wrote his name _Wray_, but afterwards omittedthe _W_. Dr. _Whitby_, in books published by himself, writes his namesometimes _Whiteby_. And among the Harleian Manuscripts there is a largecollection of letters, to which I have often referred, written between1620 and 1630, by Joseph _Mead_; and yet in all his printed letters, andhis works, even within that period, it is spelt _Mede_; by whichsignature we recognise the name of a learned man better known to us: itwas long before I discovered the letter-writer to have been thisscholar. Oldys, in some curious manuscript memoirs of his family, hastraced the family name through a great variety of changes, and sometimesit is at such variance that the person indicated will not always appearto have belonged to the family. We saw recently an advertisement in thenewspapers offering five thousand pounds to prove a marriage in thefamily of the Knevetts, which occurred about 1633. What mostdisconcerted the inquirers is their discovery that the family name waswritten in six or seven different ways: a circumstance which I have nodoubt will be found in most family names in England. Fuller mentionsthat the name of _Villers_ was spelt _fourteen_ different ways in thedeeds of that family. 

I shall illustrate this subject by the history of the _names_ of two ofour most illustrious countrymen, Shakspeare and Rawleigh. 

We all remember the day when a violent literary controversy was opened, nor is it yet closed, respecting the spelling of our poet's name. Onegreat editor persisted in his triumphant discovery, by printing_Shakspere_, while another would only partially yield, _Shakspeare_; butall parties seemed willing to drop the usual and natural derivation ofhis name, in which we are surely warranted from a passage in acontemporary writer, who alludes by the name to a conceit of his own, ofthe _martial_ spirit of the poet. [118] The truth seems to be, then, thatpersonal names were written by the ear, since the persons themselves didnot attend to the accurate writing of their own names, which theychanged sometimes capriciously, and sometimes with anxious nicety. Ourgreat poet's name appears _Shakspere_ in the register of Stratfordchurch; it is _Shakspeare_ in the body of his will, but that veryinstrument is indorsed Mr. _Shackspere's_ will. He himself has writtenhis name in two different ways, _Shakspeare_ and _Shakspere_. Mr. Colmansays, the poet's name in his own county is pronounced with the first _a_short, which accounts for this mode of writing the name, and proves thatthe orthoëpy rather than the orthography of a person's name was mostattended to; a very questionable and uncertain standard. [119]

Another remarkable instance of this sort is the name of Sir Walter_Rawley_, which I am myself uncertain how to write; although I havediscovered a fact which proves how it should be pronounced. 

Rawley's name was spelt by himself and by his contemporaries in allsorts of ways. We find it Ralegh, Raleigh, Rawleigh, Raweley, and Rawly;the last of which at least preserves its pronunciation. This great man, when young, subscribed his name "Walter _Raweley_ of the Middle Temple"to a copy of verses, prefixed to a satire called the Steel-Glass, inGeorge Gascoigne's Works, 1576. Sir Walter was then a young student, andthese verses, both by their spirit and signature, cannot fail to be his;however, this matter is doubtful, for the critics have not met elsewherewith his name thus written. The orthoëpy of the name of this great man Ican establish by the following fact. When Sir Walter was firstintroduced to James the First, on the King's arrival in England, withwhom, being united with an opposition party, he was no favourite, theScottish monarch gave him this broad reception: "Rawly! Rawly! trueenough, for I think of thee very _Rawly_, mon!" There is also an enigmacontained in a distich written by a lady of the times, which preservesthe real pronunciation of the name of this extraordinary man. 

 What's bad for the stomach, and the word of dishonour, Is the name of the man, whom the king will not honour. 

Thus our ancient personal names were written down by the ear at a periodwhen we had no settled orthography; and even at a later period, notdistant from our own times, some persons, it might be shown, have beenequally puzzled how to write their names; witness the Thomsons, Thompsons; the Wartons, Whartons, &c. 

NAMES OF OUR STREETS. 

Lord Orford has in one of his letters projected a curious work to bewritten in a walk through the streets of the metropolis, similar to aFrench work, entitled "Anecdotes des Rues de Paris. " I know of no suchwork, and suspect the vivacious writer alluded in his mind to SaintFoix's "Essais Historiques sur Paris, " a very entertaining work, ofwhich the plan is that projected by his lordship. We have had Pennant's"London, " a work of this description; but, on the whole, this is asuperficial performance, as it regards manners, characters, and events. That antiquary skimmed everything, and grasped scarcely anything; hewanted the patience of research, and the keen spirit which revivifiesthe past. Should Lord Orford's project be carried into execution, orrather should Pennant be hereafter improved, it would be first necessaryto obtain the original names, or the meanings, of our streets, free fromthe disguise in which time has concealed them. We shall otherwise losemany characters of persons, and many remarkable events, of which theiroriginal denominations would remind the historian of our streets. 

I have noted down a few of these modern misnomers, that this futurehistorian may be excited to discover more. 

_Mincing-lane_ was _Mincheon-lane_; from tenements pertaining to theMincheons, or nuns of St. Helen's, in Bishopsgate-street. 

_Gutter-lane_, corrupted from _Guthurun's-lane_; from its first owner, acitizen of great trade. 

_Blackwall-hall_ was _Bakewell's-hall_, from one Thomas Bakewell; andoriginally called _Basing's-haugh_, from a considerable family of thatname, whose arms were once seen on the ancient building, and whose nameis still perpetuated in _Basing's-lane_. 

_Finch-lane_ was _Finke's-lane_, from a whole family of this name. 

_Thread-needle-street_ was originally _Thrid-needle-street_, as SamuelClarke dates it from his study there. 

_Billiter-lane_ is a corruption of _Bellzetter's-lane_, from the firstbuilder or owner. 

_Crutched-friars_ was _Crowched_ or _Crossed-friars_. 

_Lothbury_ was so named from the noise of founders at their work; and, as Howell pretends, this place was called _Lothbury_, "disdainedly. "

_Garlick-hill_ was _Garlicke-hithe_, or _hive_, where garlick was sold. 

_Fetter-lane_ has been erroneously supposed to have some connexion withthe _fetters_ of criminals. It was in Charles the First's time written_Fewtor-lane_, and is so in Howell's "Londinopolis, " who explains itfrom "_Fewtors_ (or idle people) lying there as in a way leading togardens. " It was the haunt of these _Faitors_, or "mighty beggars. " The_Faitour_, that is, a _defaytor_, or _defaulter_, became _Fewtor_; andin the rapid pronunciation, or conception, of names, _Fewtor_ has endedin _Fetter-lane_. 

_Gracechurch-street_, sometimes called _Gracious-street_, was originally_Grass-street_, from a herb-market there. 

_Fenchurch-street_, from a fenny or moorish ground by a river side. 

_Galley-key_ has preserved its name, but its origin may have been lost. Howell, in his "Londinopolis, " says, "here dwelt strangers called_Galley-men_, who brought wines, &c. In _Galleys_. "

"_Greek-street_, " says Pennant, "I am sorry to degrade into_Grig-street_;" whether it alludes to the little vivacious eel, or tothe merry character of its tenants, he does not resolve. 

_Bridewell_ was _St. Bridget's-well_, from one dedicated to Saint Bride, or Bridget. 

_Marybone_ was _St. Mary-on-the-Bourne_, corrupted to _Marybone_; as_Holborn_ was _Old Bourn_, or the Old River; _Bourne_ being the ancientEnglish for _river_; hence the Scottish _Burn_. 

_Newington_ was _New-town_. 

_Maiden-lane_ was so called from an image of the Virgin, which, inCatholic days, had stood there, as Bagford writes to Hearne; and hesays, that the frequent sign of the _Maiden-head_ was derived from "ourLady's head. "

_Lad-lane_ was originally _Lady's-lane_, from the same personage. 

_Rood-lane_ was so denominated from a Rood, or Jesus on the cross, thereplaced, which was held in great regard. 

_Piccadilly_ was named after a hall called _Piccadilla-hall_, a place ofsale for _Piccadillies_, or _turn-overs_; a part of the fashionabledress which appeared about 1614. It has preserved its name uncorrupted;for Barnabe Rice, in his "Honestie of the Age, " has this passage on "thebody-makers that do swarm through all parts, both of London and aboutLondon. The body is still pampered up in the very dropsy of excess. Hethat some fortie years sithens should have asked after a _Pickadilly_, Iwonder who would have understood him; or could have told what a_Pickcadilly_ had been, either fish or flesh. "[120]

Strype notices that in the liberties of Saint Catharine is a placecalled _Hangmen's-gains_; the traders of _Hammes_ and _Guynes_, inFrance, anciently resorted there; thence the strange corruption. 

_Smithfield_ is a corruption of _Smoothfield_; smith signifies smooth, from the Saxon ʃmeð. An antiquarian friend has seen it designated in adeed as _campus planus_, which confirms the original meaning. It isdescribed in Fitz Stephen's account of London, written before thetwelfth century, as a plain field, both in reality and name, where"every Friday there is a celebrated rendezvous of fine horses, broughthither to be sold. Thither come to look or buy a great number of earls, barons, knights, and a swarm of citizens. It is a pleasing sight tobehold the ambling nags and generous colts, proudly prancing. " Thisancient writer continues a minute description, and, perhaps, gives theearliest one of a horse-race in this country. It is remarkable that_Smithfield_ should have continued as a market for cattle for more thansix centuries, with only the change of its vowels. 

This is sufficient to show how the names of our streets require eitherto be corrected, or explained by their historian. The French, among thenumerous projects for the moral improvement of civilised man, had one, which, had it not been polluted by a horrid faction, might have beendirected to a noble end. It was to name streets after eminent men. Thiswould at least preserve them from the corruption of the people, andexhibit a perpetual monument of moral feeling and of glory, to therising genius of every age. With what excitement and delight may theyoung contemplatist, who first studies at Gray's Inn, be reminded of_Verulam_-buildings!

The names of streets will often be found connected with some singularevent, or the character of some person; and _anecdotes of our streets_might occupy an entertaining antiquary. Not long ago, a Hebrew, who hada quarrel with his community about the manner of celebrating the Jewishfestival in commemoration of the fate of Haman, called _Purim_, built aneighbourhood at Bethnal-green, and retained the subject of his anger inthe name which the houses bear, of _Purim_-place. This may startle sometheological antiquary at a remote period, who may idly lose himself inabstruse conjectures on the sanctity of a name, derived from awell-known Hebrew festival; and, perhaps, in his imagination be inducedto colonise the spot with an ancient horde of Israelites!

SECRET HISTORY OF EDWARD VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 

It is an odd circumstance in literary research, that I am enabled tocorrect a story which was written about 1680. The Aubrey Papers, recently published with singular faithfulness, retaining all theirpeculiarities, even to the grossest errors, were memoranda for the useof Anthony Wood's great work. But beside these, the Oxford antiquary hada very extensive literary correspondence; and it is known, that whenspeechless and dying he evinced the fortitude to call in two friends todestroy a vast multitude of papers: about two bushels full were orderedfor the fires lighted for the occasion; and, "as he was expiring, heexpressed both his knowledge and approbation of what was done, bythrowing out his hands. " These two bushels full were not, however, allhis papers; his more private ones he had ordered not to be opened forseven years. I suspect also, that a great number of letters were notburnt on this occasion; for I have discovered a manuscript written about1720 to 1730, and which, the writer tells us, consists of "Excerpts outof Anthony Wood's papers. " It is closely written, and contains manycurious facts not to be found elsewhere. These papers of Anthony Woodprobably still exist in the Ashmolean Museum; should they have perished, in that case this solitary manuscript will be the sole record of manyinteresting particulars. 

By these I correct a little story, which may be found in the AubreyPapers, vol. Iii. 395. It is an account of one Nicholas Hill, a man ofgreat learning, and in the high confidence of a remarkable andmunificent Earl of Oxford, travelling with him abroad. I transcribe theprinted Aubrey account. 

"In his travels with his lord (I forget whether Italy or Germany, but Ithink the former), a poor man begged him to give him a penny. 'A penny!'said Mr. Hill; 'what dost say to ten pounds?'--'Ah! ten pounds, ' saidthe beggar; 'that would make a man happy. ' Mr. Hill gave himimmediately ten pounds, and putt it downe upon account. Item, _to abeggar ten pounds to make him happy_!"--The point of this story has beenmarred in the telling: it was drawn up from the following letter byAubrey to A. Wood, dated July 15, 1689. "A poor man asked Mr. Hill, hislordship's steward, once to give him sixpence, or a shilling, for analms. 'What dost say, if I give thee ten pounds?' 'Ten pounds! _thatwould make a man of me_!' Hill gave it him, and put down in his account, '£10 _for making a man_, ' which his lordship inquiring about for theoddness of the expression, not only allowed, but was pleased with it. "

This philosophical humorist was the steward of Edward Vere, Earl ofOxford, in the reign of Elizabeth. This peer was a person of elegantaccomplishments; and Lord Orford, in his "Noble Authors, " has given ahigher character of him than perhaps he may deserve. He was of thehighest rank, in great favour with the queen, and, in the style of theday, when all our fashions and our poetry were moulding themselves onthe Italian model, he was the "Mirrour of Tuscanismo;" and, in a word, this coxcombical peer, after seven years' residence in Florence, returned highly "Italianated. " The ludicrous motive of thisperegrination is given in the present manuscript account. Haughty of hisdescent and alliance, irritable with effeminate delicacy and personalvanity, a little circumstance, almost too minute to be recorded, inflicted such an injury on his pride, that in his mind it requiredyears of absence from the court of England ere it could be forgotten. Once making a low obeisance to the queen, before the whole court, thisstately and inflated peer suffered a mischance, which has happened, itis said, on a like occasion--it was "light as air!" But this accident sosensibly hurt his mawkish delicacy, and so humbled his aristocraticdignity, that he could not raise his eyes on his royal mistress. Heresolved from that day to "be a banished man, " and resided for sevenyears in Italy, living in more grandeur at Florence than the Grand Dukeof Tuscany. He spent in those years forty thousand pounds. On his returnhe presented the queen with embroidered gloves and perfumes, then forthe first time introduced into England, as Stowe has noticed. Part ofthe new presents seem to have some reference to the earl's formermischance. The queen received them graciously, and was even paintedwearing those gloves; but my authority states, that the masculine senseof Elizabeth could not abstain from congratulating the noble coxcomb;perceiving, she said, that at length my lord had forgot the mentioningthe little mischance of seven years ago!

This peer's munificence abroad was indeed the talk of Europe; but thesecret motive of this was as wicked as that of his travels had beenridiculous. This Earl of Oxford had married the daughter of LordBurleigh, and when this great statesman would not consent to save thelife of the Duke of Norfolk, the friend of this earl, he swore torevenge himself on the countess, out of hatred to his father-in-law. Henot only forsook her, but studied every means to waste that greatinheritance which had descended to him from his ancestors. Secrethistory often startles us with unexpected discoveries: the personalaffectations of this earl induced him to quit a court where he stood inthe highest favour, to domesticate himself abroad; and a family _pique_was the secret motive of that splendid prodigality which, at Florence, could throw into shade the court of Tuscany itself. 

ANCIENT COOKERY, AND COOKS. 

The memorable grand dinner given by the classical doctor in PeregrinePickle, has indisposed our tastes for the cookery of the ancients; but, since it is often "the cooks who spoil the broth, " we cannot be sure butthat even "the black Lacedæmonian, " stirred by the spear of a Spartan, might have had a poignancy for him, which did not happen at the morerecent classical banquet. 

The cookery of the ancients must have been superior to our humbler art, since they could find dainties in the tough membranous parts of thematrices of a sow, and the flesh of young hawks, and a young ass. Theelder Pliny records, that one man had studied the art of fatteningsnails with paste so successfully, that the shells of some of his snailswould contain many quarts. [121] The same monstrous taste fed up thoseprodigious goose livers; a taste still prevailing in Italy. Swine werefattened with whey and figs; and even fish in their ponds were increasedby such artificial means. Our prize oxen might have astonished a Romanas much as one of their crammed peacocks would ourselves. Gluttonyproduces monsters, and turns away from nature to feed on unwholesomemeats. The flesh of young foxes about autumn, when they fed on grapes, is praised by Galen; and Hippocrates equals the flesh of puppies to thatof birds. The humorous Dr. King, who has touched on this subject, suspects that many of the Greek dishes appear charming from theirmellifluous terminations, resounding with a _floios_ and _toios_. Dr. King's description of the Virtuoso Bentivoglio or Bentley, with his"Bill of Fare" out of Athenæus, probably suggested to Smollett hiscelebrated scene. 

The numerous descriptions of ancient cookery which Athenæus haspreserved indicate an unrivalled dexterity and refinement: and theancients, indeed, appear to have raised the culinary art into a science, and dignified cooks into professors. They had writers who exhaustedtheir erudition and ingenuity in verse and prose; while some were proudto immortalise their names by the invention of a poignant sauce, or apopular _gâteau_. Apicius, a name immortalised, and now synonymous witha gorger, was the inventor of cakes called Apicians; and oneAristoxenes, after many unsuccessful combinations, at length hit on apeculiar manner of seasoning hams, thence called Aristoxenians. The nameof a late nobleman among ourselves is thus invoked every day. 

Of these _Eruditæ gultæ_ Archestratus, a culinary philosopher, composedan epic or didactic poem on good eating. His "Gastrology" became thecreed of the epicures, and its pathos appears to have made what is soexpressively called "their mouths water. " The idea has been recentlysuccessfully imitated by a French poet. [122] Archestratus thus opens hissubject:--

 I write these precepts for immortal Greece, That round a table delicately spread, Or three, or four, may sit in choice repast, Or five at most. Who otherwise shall dine, Are like a troop marauding for their prey. 

The elegant Romans declared that a repast should not consist of less innumber than the Graces, nor of more than the Muses. They had, however, aquaint proverb, which Alexander ab Alexandro has preserved, notfavourable even to so large a dinner-party as nine; it turns on a playof words:--

 Septem convivium, Novem convicium facere. [123]

An elegant Roman, meeting a friend, regretted he could not invite him todinner, "because my _number_ is complete. "

When Archestratus acknowledges that some things are for the winter, andsome for the summer, he consoles himself, that though we cannot havethem at the same time, yet, at least, we may talk about them at alltimes. 

This great genius seems to have travelled over land and seas that hemight critically examine the things themselves, and improve, with newdiscoveries, the table-luxuries. He indicates the places for peculiaredibles and exquisite potables; and promulgates his precepts with thezeal of a sublime legislator, who is dictating a code designed toameliorate the imperfect state of society. 

A philosopher worthy to bear the title of cook, or a cook worthy to be aphilosopher, according to the numerous curious passages scattered inAthenæus, was an extraordinary genius, endowed not merely with a naturalaptitude, but with all acquired accomplishments. The philosophy, or themetaphysics, of cookery appears in the following passage:--

 "Know then, the COOK, a dinner that's bespoke, Aspiring to prepare, with prescient zeal Should know the tastes and humours of the guests; For if he drudges through the common work, Thoughtless of manner, careless what the place And seasons claim, and what the favouring hour Auspicious to his genius may present, Why, standing 'midst the multitude of men, Call we this plodding _fricasseer_ a Cook? Oh differing far! and one is not the other! We call indeed the _general_ of an army Him who is charged to lead it to the war; But the true general is the man whose mind, Mastering events, anticipates, combines; Else is he but a _leader_ to his men! With our profession thus: the first who comes May with a humble toil, or slice, or chop, Prepare the ingredients, and around the fire Obsequious, him I call a fricasseer! But ah! the cook a brighter glory crowns! Well skill'd is he to know the place, the hour, Him who invites, and him who is invited, What fish in season makes the market rich, A choice delicious rarity! I know That all, we always find; but always all, Charms not the palate, critically fine. Archestratus, in culinary lore Deep for his time, in this more learned age Is wanting; and full oft he surely talks Of what he never ate. Suspect his page, Nor load thy genius with a barren precept. Look not in books for what some idle sage So idly raved; for cookery is an art Comporting ill with rhetoric; 'tis an art Still changing, and of momentary triumph! Know on thyself thy genius must depend. All books of cookery, all helps of art, All critic learning, all commenting notes, Are vain, if, void of genius, thou wouldst cook!" The culinary sage thus spoke: his friend Demands, "Where is the ideal cook thou paint'st?" "Lo, I the man?" the savouring sage replied. "Now be thine eyes the witness of my art! This tunny drest, so odorous shall steam, The spicy sweetness so shall steal thy sense, That thou in a delicious reverie Shalt slumber heavenly o'er the Attic dish!"

In another passage a Master-Cook conceives himself to be a pupil ofEpicurus, whose favourite but ambiguous axiom, that "Voluptuousness isthe sovereign good, " was interpreted by the _bon-vivans_ of antiquity inthe plain sense. 

 MASTER COOK. Behold in me a pupil of the school Of the sage Epicurus. 

 FRIEND. Thou a sage!

 MASTER COOK. Ay! Epicurus too was sure a cook, And knew the sovereign good. Nature his study, While practice perfected his theory. Divine philosophy alone can teach The difference which the fish _Glociscus_[124] shows In winter and in summer: how to learn Which fish to choose, when set the Pleiades, And at the solstice. 'Tis change of seasons Which threats mankind, and shakes their changeful frame. This dost thou comprehend? Know, what we use In season, is most seasonably good!

 FRIEND. Most learned cook, who can observe these canons

 MASTER COOK. And therefore phlegm and colics make a man A most indecent guest. The aliment Dress'd in my kitchen is true aliment; Light of digestion easily it passes; The chyle soft-blending from the juicy food Repairs the solids. 

 FRIEND. Ah! the chyle! the solids! Thou new Democritus! thou sage of medicine! Versed in the mysteries of the Iatric art!

 MASTER COOK. Now mark the blunders of our vulgar cooks! See them prepare a dish of various fish, Showering profuse the pounded Indian grain, An overpowering vapour, gallimaufry A multitude confused of pothering odours! But, know, the genius of the art consists To make the nostrils feel each scent distinct; And not in washing plates to free from smoke. I never enter in my kitchen, I! But sit apart, and in the cool direct, Observant of what passes, scullions' toil. 

 FRIEND. What dost thou there?

 MASTER COOK. I guide the mighty whole; Explore the causes, prophesy the dish. 'Tis thus I speak: "Leave, leave that ponderous ham; Keep up the fire, and lively play the flame Beneath those lobster patties; patient here, Fix'd as a statue, skim, incessant skim. Steep well this small Glociscus in its sauce, And boil that sea-dog in a cullender; This eel requires more salt and marjoram; Roast well that piece of kid on either side Equal; that sweetbread boil not over much. " 'Tis thus, my friend, I make the concert play. 

 FRIEND. 

 O man of science! 'tis thy babble kills!

 MASTER COOK. 

 And then no useless dish my table crowds; Harmonious ranged, and consonantly just. 

 FRIEND. 

 Ha! what means this?

 MASTER COOK. 

 Divinest music all! As in a concert instruments resound, My ordered dishes in their courses chime. So Epicurus dictated the art Of sweet voluptuousness, and ate in order, Musing delighted o'er the sovereign good! Let raving Stoics in a labyrinth Run after virtue; they shall find no end. Thou, what is foreign to mankind, abjure. 

 FRIEND. 

 Right honest Cook! thou wak'st me from their dreams!

Another cook informs us that he adapts his repasts to his personages. 

 I like to see the faces of my guests, To feed them as their age and station claim. My kitchen changes, as my guests inspire The various spectacle; for lovers now, Philosophers, and now for financiers. If my young royster be a mettled spark, Who melts an acre in a savoury dish To charm his mistress, scuttle-fish and crabs, And all the shelly race, with mixture due Of cordials filtered, exquisitely rich. For such a host, my friend! expends much more In oil than cotton; solely studying love! To a philosopher, that animal, Voracious, solid ham and bulky feet; But to the financier, with costly niceness, Glociscus rare, or rarity more rare. Insensible the palate of old age, More difficult than the soft lips of youth, To move, I put much mustard in their dish; With quickening sauces make their stupor keen, And lash the lazy blood that creeps within. 

Another genius, in tracing the art of cookery, derives from it nothingless than the origin of society; and I think that some philosopher hasdefined man to be "a cooking animal. "

 COOK. 

 "The art of cookery drew us gently forth From that ferocious life, when void of faith The Anthropophaginian ate his brother! To cookery we owe well-ordered states, Assembling men in dear society. Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man, When one of nobler sense and milder heart First sacrificed an animal; the flesh Was sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man! And something of the rudeness of those times The priest commemorates; for to this day He roasts the victim's entrails without salt. In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hid The precious salt, that gold of cookery! But when its particles the palate thrill'd, The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came. They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored; And tender kid, within two covering plates, Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved! At length a miracle not yet perform'd, They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft, Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye, And to the taste, the counterfeited dish Mimick'd some curious fish; invention rare! Then every dish was season'd more and more, Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oft Oatmeal and honey. To enjoy the meal Men congregated in the populous towns, And cities flourish'd which we cooks adorn'd With all the pleasures of domestic life. 

An arch-cook insinuates that there remain only two "pillars of thestate, " besides himself, of the school of Sinon, one of the greatmasters of the condimenting art. Sinon, we are told, applied theelements of all the arts and sciences to this favourite one. Naturalphilosophy could produce a secret seasoning for a dish; and architecturethe art of conducting the smoke out of a chimney: which, says he, ifungovernable, makes a great difference in the dressing. From themilitary science he derived a sublime idea of order; drilling the undercooks, marshalling the kitchen, hastening one, and making another asentinel. We find, however, that a portion of this divine art, one ofthe professors acknowledges to be vapouring and bragging!--a seasoningin this art, as well as in others. A cook ought never to comeunaccompanied by all the pomp and parade of the kitchen: with a scurvyappearance, he will be turned away at sight; for all have eyes, but fewonly understanding. [125]

Another occult part of this profound mystery, besides vapouring, consisted, it seems, in filching. Such is the counsel of a patriarch toan apprentice! a precept which contains a truth for all ages of cookery. 

 Carian! time well thy ambidextrous part, Nor always filch. It was but yesterday, Blundering, they nearly caught thee in the fact; None of thy balls had livers, and the guests, In horror, pierced their airy emptiness. Not even the brains were there, thou brainless hound! If thou art hired among the middling class, Who pay thee freely, be thou honourable! But for this day, where now we go to cook, E'en cut the master's throat for all I care; "A word to th' wise, " and show thyself my scholar! There thou mayst filch and revel; all may yield Some secret profit to thy sharking hand. 'Tis an old miser gives a sordid dinner, And weeps o'er every sparing dish at table; Then if I do not find thou dost devour All thou canst touch, e'en to the very coals, I will disown thee! Lo! old Skin-flint comes; In his dry eyes what parsimony stares!

These cooks of the ancients, who appear to have been hired for a granddinner, carried their art to the most whimsical perfection. They were sodexterous as to be able to serve up a whole pig boiled on one side, androasted on the other. The cook who performed this feat defies his gueststo detect the place where the knife had separated the animal, or how itwas contrived to stuff the belly with an olio composed of thrushes andother birds, slices of the matrices of a sow, the yolks of eggs, thebellies of hens with their soft eggs flavoured with a rich juice, andminced meats highly spiced. When this cook is entreated to explain hissecret art, he solemnly swears by the manes of those who braved all thedangers of the plain of Marathon, and combated at sea at Salamis, thathe will not reveal the secret that year. But of an incident sotriumphant in the annals of the gastric art, our philosopher would notdeprive posterity of the knowledge. The animal had been bled to death bya wound under the shoulder, whence, after a copious effusion, themaster-cook extracted the entrails, washed them with wine, and hangingthe animal by the feet, he crammed down the throat the stuffings alreadyprepared. Then covering the half of the pig with a paste of barley, thickened with wine and oil, he put it in a small oven, or on a heatedtable of brass, where it was gently roasted with all due care: when theskin was browned, he boiled the other side; and then, taking away thebarley paste, the pig was served up, at once boiled and roasted. Thesecooks, with a vegetable, could counterfeit the shape and the taste offish and flesh. The king of Bithynia, in some expedition against theScythians, in the winter, and at a great distance from the sea, had aviolent longing for a small fish called _aphy_--a pilchard, a herring, or an anchovy. His cook cut a turnip to the perfect imitation of itsshape; then fried in oil, salted, and well powdered with the grains of adozen black poppies, his majesty's taste was so exquisitely deceived, that he praised the root to his guests as an excellent fish. Thistransmutation of vegetables into meat or fish is a province of theculinary art which we appear to have lost; yet these are _cibiinnocentes_, compared with the things themselves. No people are suchgorgers of mere animal food as our own; the art of preparing vegetables, pulse, and roots, is scarcely known in this country. This cheaper andhealthful food should be introduced among the common people, who neglectthem from not knowing how to dress them. The peasant, for want of thisskill, treads under foot the best meat in the world; and sometimes thebest way of dressing it is least costly. 

The gastric art must have reached to its last perfection, when we findthat it had its history; and that they knew how to ascertain the æra ofa dish with a sort of chronological exactness. The philosophers ofAthenæus at table dissert on every dish, and tell us of one called_maati_, that there was a treatise composed on it; that it was firstintroduced at Athens, at the epocha of the Macedonian empire, but thatit was undoubtedly a Thessalian invention; the most sumptuous people ofall the Greeks. The _maati_ was a term at length applied to any daintyof excessive delicacy, always served the last. 

But as no art has ever attained perfection without numerous admirers, and as it is the public which only can make such exquisite cooks, ourcuriosity may be excited to inquire whether the patrons of the gastricart were as great enthusiasts as its professors. 

We see they had writers who exhausted their genius on these professionaltopics; and books of cookery were much read: for a comic poet, quoted byAthenæus, exhibits a character exulting in having procured "The NewKitchen of Philoxenus, which, " says he, "I keep for myself to read in mysolitude. " That these devotees to the culinary art undertook journeys toremote parts of the world, in quest of these discoveries, sufficientfacts authenticate. England had the honour to furnish them with oysters, which they fetched from about Sandwich. Juvenal[126] records thatMontanus was so well skilled in the science of good eating, that hecould tell by the first bite whether they were English or not. Thewell-known Apicius poured into his stomach an immense fortune. Heusually resided at Minturna, a town in Campania, where he ate shrimps ata high price: they were so large, that those of Smyrna, and the prawnsof Alexandria, could not be compared with the shrimps of Minturna. However, this luckless epicure was informed that the shrimps in Africawere more monstrous; and he embarks without losing a day. He encountersa great storm, and through imminent danger arrives at the shores ofAfrica. The fishermen bring him the largest for size their nets couldfurnish. Apicius shakes his head: "Have you never any larger?" heinquires. The answer was not favourable to his hopes. Apicius rejectsthem, and fondly remembers the shrimps of his own Minturna. He ordershis pilot to return to Italy, and leaves Africa with a look of contempt. 

A fraternal genius was Philoxenus: he whose higher wish was to possess acrane's neck, that he might be the longer in savouring his dainties; andwho appears to have invented some expedients which might answer, in somedegree, the purpose. This impudent epicure was so little attentive tothe feelings of his brother guests, that in the hot bath he avowedlyhabituated himself to keep his hands in the scalding water; and evenused to gargle his throat with it, that he might feel less impediment inswallowing the hottest dishes. He bribed the cooks to serve up therepast smoking hot, that he might gloriously devour what he chose beforeany one else could venture to touch the dish. It seemed as if he hadused his fingers to handle fire. "He is an oven, not a man!" exclaimed agrumbling fellow-guest. Once having embarked for Ephesus, for thepurpose of eating fish, his favourite food, he arrived at the market, and found all the stalls empty. There was a wedding in the town, and allthe fish had been bespoken. He hastens to embrace the new-marriedcouple, and singing an epithalamium, the dithyrambic epicure enchantedthe company. The bridegroom was delighted by the honour of the presenceof such a poet, and earnestly requested he would come on the morrow. "Iwill come, young friend, if there is no fish at the market!"--It wasthis Philoxenus, who, at the table of Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, having near him a small barbel, and observing a large one near theprince, took the little one, and held it to his ear. Dionysius inquiredthe reason. "At present, " replied the ingenious epicure, "I am sooccupied by my Galatea, " (a poem in honour of the mistress of thetyrant, ) "that I wished to inquire of this little fish, whether he couldgive me some information about Nereus; but he is silent, and I imaginethey have taken him up too young: I have no doubt that old one, oppositeto you, would perfectly satisfy me. " Dionysius rewarded the pleasantconceit with the large barbel. 

ANCIENT AND MODERN SATURNALIA. 

The Stagyrite discovered that our nature delights in imitation, andperhaps in nothing more than in representing personages different fromourselves in mockery of them; in fact, there is a passion for masqueradein human nature. Children discover this propensity; and the populace, who are the children of society, through all ages have been humoured bytheir governors with festivals and recreations, which are made up ofthis malicious transformation of persons and things; and the humbleorders of society have been privileged by the higher, to pleasethemselves by burlesquing and ridiculing the great, at short seasons, assome consolation for the rest of the year. 

The Saturnalia of the Romans is a remarkable instance of thischaracteristic of mankind. Macrobius could not trace the origin of thisinstitution, and seems to derive it from the Grecians; so that it mighthave arisen in some rude period of antiquity, and among another people. This conjecture seems supported by a passage in Gibbon'sMiscellanies, [127] who discovers traces of this institution among themore ancient nations; and Huet imagined that he saw in the jubilee ofthe Hebrews some similar usages. It is to be regretted, that Gibbon doesnot afford us any new light on the cause in which originated theinstitution itself. The jubilee of the Hebrews was the solemn festivalof an agricultural people, but bears none of the ludicrouscharacteristics of the Roman Saturnalia. 

It would have been satisfactory to have discovered the occasion of theinconceivable licentiousness which was thus sanctioned by thelegislator, --this overturning of the principles of society, and thispublic ridicule of its laws, its customs, and its feelings. We are told, these festivals, dedicated to Saturn, were designed to represent thenatural equality which prevailed in his golden age; and for this purposethe slaves were allowed to change places with the masters. This was, however, giving the people a false notion of the equality of men; for, while the slave was converted into the master, the pretended equalitywas as much violated as in the usual situation of the parties. Thepolitical misconception of this term of natural equality seems, however, to have been carried on through all ages; and the political Saturnaliahad lately nearly thrown Europe into a state of that worse than slavery, where slaves are masters. 

The Roman Saturnalia were latterly prolonged to a week's debauchery andfolly; and a diary of that week's words and deeds would have furnished acopious chronicle of _Facetiæ_. Some notions we acquire from the laws ofthe Saturnalia of Lucian, an Epistle of Seneca's, [128] and from Horace, who from his love of quiet, retired from the city during this noisyseason. 

It was towards the close of December, that all the town was in anunusual motion, and the children everywhere invoking Saturn; nothing nowto be seen but tables spread out for feasting, and nothing heard butshouts of merriment: all business was dismissed, and none at work butcooks and confectioners; no account of expenses was to be kept, and itappears that one-tenth part of a man's income was to be appropriated tothis jollity. All exertion of mind and body was forbidden, except forthe purposes of recreation; nothing to be read or recited which did notprovoke mirth, adapted to the season and the place. The slaves wereallowed the utmost freedom of raillery and truth, with theirmasters;[129] sitting with them at the table, dressed in their clothes, playing all sorts of tricks, telling them of their faults to theirfaces, while they smutted them. The slaves were imaginary kings, asindeed a lottery determined their rank; and as their masters attendedthem, whenever it happened that these performed their offices clumsily, doubtless with some recollections of their own similar misdemeanors, theslave made the master leap into the water head-foremost. No one wasallowed to be angry, and he who was played on, if he loved his owncomfort, would be the first to laugh. Glasses of all sizes were to beready, and all were to drink when and what they chose; none but the mostskilful musicians and tumblers were allowed to perform, for those peopleare worth nothing unless exquisite, as the Saturnalian laws decreed. Dancing, singing, and shouting, and carrying a female musician thriceround on their shoulders, accompanied by every grotesque humour theyimagined, were indulged in that short week, which was to repay the manyin which the masters had their revenge for the reign of this pretendedequality. Another custom prevailed at this season: the priests performedtheir sacrifices to Saturn bare-headed, which Pitiscus explains in thespirit of this extraordinary institution, as designed to show that timediscovers, or, as in the present case of the bare-headed priests, uncovers, all things. 

Such was the Roman Saturnalia, the favourite popular recreations ofPaganism; and as the sports and games of the people outlast the date oftheir empires, and are carried with them, however they may change theirname and their place on the globe, the grosser pleasures of theSaturnalia were too well adapted to their tastes to be forgotten. TheSaturnalia, therefore, long generated the most extraordinaryinstitutions among the nations of modern Europe; and what seems moreextraordinary than the unknown origin of the parent absurdity itself, the Saturnalia crept into the services and offices of the Christianchurch. Strange it is to observe at the altar the rites of religionburlesqued, and all its offices performed with the utmost buffoonery. Itis only by tracing them to the Roman Saturnalia that we can at allaccount for these grotesque sports--that extraordinary mixture oflibertinism and profaneness, so long continued under Christianity. 

Such were the feasts of the ass, the feast of fools or madmen, _fête desfous_--the feast of the bull--of the Innocents--and that of the_soudiacres_, which, perhaps, in its original term, meant onlysub-deacons, but their conduct was expressed by the conversion of a puninto _saoudiacres_ or _diacres saouls_, drunken deacons. Institutions ofthis nature, even more numerous than the historian has usually recorded, and varied in their mode, seem to surpass each other in their utterextravagance. [130]

These profane festivals were universally practised in the middle ages, and, as I shall show, comparatively even in modern times. The ignorantand the careless clergy then imagined it was the securest means toretain the populace, who were always inclined to these pagan revelries. 

These grotesque festivals have sometimes amused the pens of foreign anddomestic antiquaries: for our own country has participated as keenly inthese irreligious fooleries. In the feast of asses, an ass covered withsacerdotal robes was gravely conducted to the choir, where service wasperformed before the ass, and a hymn chanted in as discordant a manneras they could contrive; the office was a medley of all that had beensung in the course of the year; pails of water were flung at the head ofthe chanters; the ass was supplied with drink and provender at everydivision of the service; and the asinines were drinking, dancing, andbraying for two days. The hymn to the ass has been preserved; eachstanza ends with the burthen "Hez! Sire Ane, hez!" "Huzza! Seignior Ass, Huzza!" On other occasions, they put burnt old shoes to fume in thecensers; ran about the church, leaping, singing, and dancing obscenely;scattering ordure among the audience; playing at dice upon the altar!while a _boy-bishop_, or a _pope of fools_, burlesqued the divineservice. Sometimes they disguised themselves in the skins of animals, and pretending to be transformed into the animal they represented, itbecame dangerous, or worse, to meet these abandoned fools. There was a_precentor of fools_, who was shaved in public, during which heentertained the populace with all the balderdash his genius couldinvent. We had in Leicester, in 1415, what was called a _glutton-mass_, during the five days of the festival of the Virgin Mary. The people roseearly to mass, during which they practised eating and drinking with themost zealous velocity, and, as in France, drew from the corners of thealtar the rich puddings placed there. 

So late as in 1645, a pupil of Gassendi, writing to his master, what hehimself witnessed at Aix on the feast of the Innocents, says, "I haveseen, in some monasteries in this province, extravagances solemnised, which the pagans would not have practised. Neither the clergy, nor theguardians, indeed, go to the choir on this day, but all is given up tothe lay brethren, the cabbage-cutters, the errand-boys, the cooks andscullions, the gardeners; in a word, all the menials fill their placesin the church, and insist that they perform the offices proper for theday. They dress themselves with all the sacerdotal ornaments, but tornto rags, or wear them inside out; they hold in their hands the booksreversed or sideways, which they pretend to read with large spectacleswithout glasses, and to which they fix the shells of scooped oranges, which renders them so hideous, that one must have seen these madmen toform a notion of their appearance; particularly while dangling thecensers, they keep shaking them in derision, and letting the ashes flyabout their heads and faces one against the other. In this equipage theyneither sing hymns, nor psalms, nor masses; but mumble a certaingibberish, as shrill and squeaking as a herd of pigs whipped on tomarket. The nonsense verses they chant are singularly barbarous:--

 Hæc est clara dies, clararum clara dierum, Hæc est festa dies, festarum festa dierum. [131]

These are scenes which equal any which the humour of the Italianburlesque poets have invented, and which might have entered with effectinto the "Malmantile racquistato" of Lippi; but that they should havebeen endured amidst the solemn offices of religion, and have beenperformed in cathedrals, while it excites our astonishment, can only beaccounted for by perceiving that they were, in truth, the Saturnalia ofthe Romans. Mr. Turner observes, without perhaps having a precise notionthat they were copied from the Saturnalia, that "It could be only byrivalling the pagan revelries, that the Christian ceremonies could gainthe ascendancy. " Our historian further observes, that these "licentiousfestivities were called the _December liberties_, and seem to have begunat one of the most solemn seasons of the Christian year, and to havelasted through the chief part of January. " This very term, as well asthe time, agrees with that of the ancient Saturnalia:--

 Age, _libertate Decembri_, Quando ita majores voluerunt, utere: narra. HOR. Lib. Ii. Sat. 7. 

The Roman Saturnalia, thus transplanted into Christian churches, hadfor its singular principle, that of inferiors, whimsically and inmockery, personifying their superiors, with a licensed licentiousness. This forms a distinct characteristic from those other popular customsand pastimes which the learned have also traced to the Roman, and evenmore ancient nations. Our present inquiry is, to illustrate thatproneness in man, of delighting to reverse the order of society, andridiculing its decencies. 

Here we had our _boy-bishop_, a legitimate descendant of this family offoolery. On St. Nicholas's day, a saint who was the patron of children, the boy-bishop with his _mitra parva_ and a long crosier, attended byhis school-mates as his diminutive prebendaries, assumed the title andstate of a bishop. The child-bishop preached a sermon, and afterwards, accompanied by his attendants, went about singing and collecting hispence: to such theatrical processions in collegiate bodies, Wartonattributes the custom, still existing at Eton, of going _admontem_. [132] But this was a tame mummery, compared with the grossnesselsewhere allowed in burlesquing religious ceremonies. The English, moreparticularly after the Reformation, seem not to have polluted thechurches with such abuses. The relish for the Saturnalia was not, however, less lively here than on the Continent; but it took a moreinnocent direction, and was allowed to turn itself into civil life: andsince the people would be gratified by mock dignities, and claimed theprivilege of ridiculing their masters, it was allowed them by our kingsand nobles; and a troop of grotesque characters, frolicsome great men, delighting in merry mischief, are recorded in our domestic annals. 

The most learned Selden, with parsimonious phrase and copious sense, hasthus compressed the result of an historical dissertation: he derives ourancient Christmas sports at once from the true, though remote, source. "Christmas succeeds the Saturnalia; the same time, the same number ofholy-days; then the master waited upon the servant, like the _lord ofmisrule_. "[133] Such is the title of a facetious potentate, who, in thisnotice of Selden's, is not further indicated, for this personage wasfamiliar in his day, but of whom the accounts are so scattered, thathis offices and his glory are now equally obscure. The race of thisnobility of drollery, and this legitimate king of all hoaxing andquizzing, like mightier dynasties, has ceased to exist. 

In England our festivities at Christmas appear to have been moreentertaining than in other countries. We were once famed for merryChristmases and their pies; witness the Italian proverb, "_Ha piu difare che i forni di Natale in Inghilterra_:" "He has more business thanEnglish ovens at Christmas. " Wherever the king resided, there wascreated for that merry season a Christmas prince, usually called "the_Lord of Misrule_;" and whom the Scotch once knew under the significanttitle of "the _Abbot of Unreason_. " His office, according to Stowe, was"to make the rarest pastimes to delight the beholder. " Every nobleman, and every great family, surrendered their houses, during this season, tothe Christmas prince, who found rivals or usurpers in almost everyparish; and more particularly, as we shall see, among the grave studentsin our inns of court. 

The Italian Polydore Vergil, who, residing here, had clearer notions ofthis facetious personage, considered the Christmas Prince as peculiar toour country. Without venturing to ascend in his genealogy, we must admithis relationship to that ancient family of foolery we have noticed, whether he be legitimate or not. If this whimsical personage, at hiscreation, was designed to regulate "misrule, " his lordship, investedwith plenary power, came himself, at length, to delight too much in his"merry disports. " Stubbes, a morose puritan in the days of Elizabeth, denominates him "a grand captaine of mischiefe, " and has preserved aminute description of all his wild doings in the country; but as Strutthas anticipated me in this amusing extract, I must refer to his "Sportsand Pastimes of the People of England, " p. 254. [134] I prepare anotherscene of unparalleled Saturnalia, among the grave judges and serjeantsof the law, where the Lord of Misrule is viewed amidst his frolicsomecourtiers, with the humour of hunting the fox and the cat with tencouple of hounds round their great hall, among the other merry disportsof those joyous days when sages could play like boys. 

For those who can throw themselves back amidst the grotesque humours andclumsy pastimes of our ancestors, who, without what we think to betaste, had whim and merriment--there has been fortunately preserved acurious history of the manner in which "A grand Christmas" was kept atour Inns of Court, by the grave and learned Dugdale, in his "OriginesJuridicales:" it is a complete festival of foolery, acted by thestudents and law-officers. They held for that season everything inmockery: they had a mock parliament, a Prince of _Sophie_, or Wisdom, anhonourable order of Pegasus, a high constable, a marshal, a master ofthe game, a ranger of the forest, lieutenant of the Tower, which was atemporary prison for Christmas delinquents, all the paraphernalia of acourt, burlesqued by these youthful sages before the boyish judges. 

The characters personified were in the costume of their assumed offices. On Christmas-day, the constable-marshal, accoutred with a completegilded "harness, " showed that everything was to be chivalrously ordered;while the lieutenant of the Tower, in "a fair white armour, " attendedwith his troop of halberdiers; and the Tower was then placed beneath thefire. After this opening followed the costly feasting; and then, nothingless than a hunt with a pack of hounds in their hall!

The master of the game dressed in green velvet, and the ranger of theforest in green satin, bearing a green bow and arrows, each with ahunting horn about their necks, blowing together three blasts of venery(or hunting), they pace round about the fire three times. The master ofthe game kneels to be admitted into the service of the high-constable. Ahuntsman comes into the hall, with nine or ten couple of hounds, bearing on the end of his staff a pursenet, which holds a fox and a cat:these were let loose and hunted by the hounds, and killed beneath thefire. 

These extraordinary amusements took place after their repast; for thesegrotesque Saturnalia appeared after that graver part of their grandChristmas. Supper ended, the constable-marshal presented himself withdrums playing, mounted on a stage borne by four men, and carried round;at length he cries out, "a lord! a lord!" &c. , and then calls his mockcourt every one by name. 

Sir Francis Flatterer, of Fowlshurt. 

Sir Randall Rackabite, of Rascal-hall, in the county of Rakehell. 

Sir Morgan Mumchance, of Much Monkery, in the county of Mad Mopery. 

Sir Bartholomew Bald-breech, of Buttock-bury, in the county ofBreak-neck. [135]

They had also their mock arraignments. The king's-serjeant, after dinneror supper, "oratour-like, " complained that the constable-marshal hadsuffered great disorders to prevail; the complaint was answered by thecommon-serjeant, who was to show his talent at defending the cause. Theking's-serjeant replies; they rejoin, &c. : till one at length iscommitted to the Tower, for being found most deficient. If any offendercontrived to escape from the lieutenant of the Tower into the butteryand brought into the hall a manchet (or small loaf) upon the point of aknife, he was pardoned; for the buttery in this jovial season wasconsidered as a sanctuary. Then began the _revels_. Blount derives thisterm from the French _reveiller_, to awake from sleep. These were sportsof dancing, masking comedies, &c. (for some were called solemn revels, )used in great houses, and were so denominated because they wereperformed by night; and these various pastimes were regulated by amaster of the revels. 

Amidst "the grand Christmass, " a personage of no small importance was"the Lord of Misrule. " His lordship was abroad early in the morning, andif he lacked any of his officers, he entered their chambers to dragforth the loiterers; but after breakfast his lordship's power ended, andit was in suspense till night, when his personal presence was paramount, or, as Dugdale expresses it, "and then his power is most potent. "

Such were then the pastimes of the whole learned bench; and when once ithappened that the under-barristers did not dance on Candlemas day, according to the ancient order of the society, when the judges werepresent, the whole bar was offended, and at Lincoln's-Inn were bydecimation put out of commons, for example sake; and should the sameomission be repeated, they were to be fined or disbarred; for thesedancings were thought necessary, "as much conducing to the making ofgentlemen more fit for their books at other times, " I cannot furnish adetailed notice of these pastimes; for Dugdale, whenever he indicatesthem, spares his gravity from recording the evanescent frolics, by aprovoking _&c. &c. &c. _

The dance "round about the coal-fire" is taken off in the _Rehearsal_. These revels have also been ridiculed by Donne in his Satires, Prior inhis Alma, and Pope in his Dunciad. "The judge to dance, his brotherserjeants calls. "[136]

"The Lord of Misrule, " in the inns of court, latterly did not conducthimself with any recollection of "_Medio tutissimus ibis_, " beingunreasonable; but the "sparks of the Temple, " as a contemporary callsthem, had gradually, in the early part of Charles the First's reign, yielded themselves up to excessive disorders. Sir Symonds D'Ewes, in hisMS. Diary in 1620, has noticed their choice of a lieutenant, or lord ofmisrule, who seems to have practised all the mischief he invented; andthe festival days, when "a standing table was kept, " were accompanied bydicing, and much gaming, oaths, execrations, and quarrels: being of aserious turn of mind, he regrets this, for he adds, "the sport, ofitself, I conceive to be lawful. "

I suspect that the last memorable act of a Lord of Misrule of the innsof court occurred in 1627, when the Christmas game became serious. TheLord of Misrule then issued an edict to his officers to go out atTwelfth-night to collect his rents in the neighbourhood of the Temple, at the rate of five shillings a house; and on those who were in theirbeds, or would not pay, he levied a distress. An unexpected resistanceat length occurred in a memorable battle with the Lord Mayor inperson:--and I shall tell how the Lord of Misrule for some time stoodvictor, with his gunner, and his trumpeter, and his martial array: andhow heavily and fearfully stood my Lord Mayor amidst his "watch andward:" and how their lordships agreed to meet half way, each to preservehis independent dignity, till one knocked down the other: and how thelong halberds clashed with the short swords: how my Lord Mayorvalorously took the Lord of Misrule prisoner with his own civic hand:and how the Christmas prince was immured in the Counter; and how thelearned Templars insisted on their privilege, and the unlearned ofRam's-alley and Fleet-street asserted their right of saving theircrown-pieces: and finally how this combat of mockery and earnestness wassettled, not without the introduction of "a god, " as Horace allows ongreat occasions, in the interposition of the king and theattorney-general--altogether the tale had been well told in some comicepic; but the wits of that day let it pass out of their hands. 

I find this event, which seems to record the last desperate effort of a"Lord of Misrule, " in a manuscript letter of the learned Mede to SirMartin Stuteville; and some particulars are collected from HammondL'Estrange's Life of Charles the First. 

 "_Jan. _ 12, 1627-8. 

"On Saturday the Templars chose one Mr. Palmer their Lord of Misrule, who, on Twelfth-eve, late in the night, sent out to gather up his rentsat five shillings a house in Ram-alley and Fleet-street. At every doorthey came they winded the Temple-horn, and if at the second blast orsummons they within opened not the door, then the Lord of Misrule criedout, 'Give fire, gunner!' His gunner was a robustious Vulcan, and thegun or petard itself was a huge overgrown smith's hammer. This beingcomplained of to my Lord Mayor, he said he would be with them abouteleven o'clock on Sunday night last; willing that all that ward shouldattend him with their halberds, and that himself, besides those thatcame out of his house, should bring the Watches along with him. Hislordship, thus attended, advanced as high as Ram-alley in martialequipage; when forth came the Lord of Misrule, attended by his gallants, out of the Temple-gate, with their swords, all armed _in cuerpo_. Ahalberdier bade the Lord of Misrule come to my Lord Mayor. He answered, No! let the Lord Mayor come to me! At length they agreed to meet halfway; and, as the interview of rival princes is never without danger ofsome ill accident, so it happened in this: for first, Mr. Palmer beingquarrelled with for not pulling off his hat to my Lord Mayor, and givingcross answers, the halberds began to fly about his ears, and he and hiscompany to brandish their swords. At last being beaten to the ground, and the Lord of Misrule sore wounded, they were fain to yield to thelonger and more numerous weapon. My Lord Mayor taking Mr. Palmer by theshoulder, led him to the Compter, and thrust him in at the prison-gatewith a kind of indignation; and so, notwithstanding his hurts, he wasforced to lie among the common prisoners for two nights. On Tuesday theking's attorney became a suitor to my Lord Mayor for their liberty;which his lordship granted, upon condition that they should repay thegathered rents, and do reparations upon broken doors. Thus the gameended. Mr. Attorney-General, being of the same house, fetched them inhis own coach, and carried them to the court, where the King himselfreconciled my Lord Mayor and them together with joining all hands; thegentlemen of the Temple being this Shrovetide to present a Mask to theirmajesties, over and besides the king's own great Mask, to be performedat the Banqueting-house by an hundred actors. "

Thus it appears, that although the grave citizens did well and rightlyprotect themselves, yet, by the attorney-general taking the Lord ofMisrule in his coach, and the king giving his royal interference betweenthe parties, that they considered that this Lord of Foolery had certainancient privileges; and it was, perhaps, a doubt with them, whether thisinterference of the Lord Mayor might not be considered as severe andunseasonable. It is probable, however, that the arm of the civil powerbrought all future Lords of Misrule to their senses. Perhaps thisdynasty in the empire of foolery closed with this Christmas prince, whofell a victim to the arbitrary taxation he levied. I find after thisorders made for the Inner Temple, for "preventing of that generalscandal and obloquie, which the House hath heretofore incurred in timeof Christmas:" and that "there be not any going abroad out of the gatesof this House, by any _lord_ or others, to break open any house, or takeanything in the name of rent or a distress. "

These "Lords of Misrule, " and their mock court and royalty, appear tohave been only extinguished with the English sovereignty itself, at thetime of our republican government. Edmund Gayton tells a story, to showthe strange impressions of strong fancies: as his work is of greatrarity, I shall transcribe the story in his own words, both to give aconclusion to this inquiry, and a specimen of his style of narratingthis sort of little things. "A gentleman was importuned, at a fire-nightin the public-hall, to accept the high and mighty place of amock-emperor, which was duly conferred upon him by seven mock-electors. At the same time, with much wit and ceremony, the emperor accepted hischair of state, which was placed in the highest table in the hall; andat his instalment all pomp, reverence, and signs of homage were used bythe whole company; insomuch that our emperor, having a spice ofself-conceit before, was soundly peppered now, for he was instantlymetamorphosed into the stateliest, gravest, and commanding soul thatever eye beheld. Taylor acting Arbaces, or Swanston D'Amboise, wereshadows to him: his pace, his look, his voice, and all his garb, wasaltered. Alexander upon his elephant, nay, upon the castle upon thatelephant, was not so high; and so close did this imaginary honour stickto his fancy, that for many years he could not shake off this onenight's assumed deportments, until the times came that drove allmonarchical imaginations not only out of his head, but everyone's. "[137] This mock "emperor" was unquestionably one of these "Lordsof Misrule, " or "a Christmas Prince. " The "public hall" was that of theTemple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn. [138] And it was naturalenough, when the levelling equality of our theatrical and practicalcommonwealths-men were come into vogue, that even the shadowy regalityof mockery startled them by reviving the recollections of ceremonies andtitles, which some might incline, as they afterwards did, seriously torestore. The "Prince of Christmas" did not, however, attend theRestoration of Charles the Second. 

The Saturnalian spirit has not been extinct even in our days. The Mayorof Garrat, with the mock addresses and burlesque election, was an imageof such satirical exhibitions of their superiors, so delightful to thepeople. [139] France, at the close of Louis the Fourteenth's reign, firstsaw her imaginary "Regiment de la Calotte, " which was the terror of thesinners of the day, and the blockheads of all times. This "regiment ofthe skull-caps" originated in an officer and a wit, who, suffering fromviolent headaches, was recommended the use of a skull-cap of lead; andhis companions, as great wits, formed themselves into a regiment, to becomposed only of persons distinguished by their extravagances in wordsor in deeds. They elected a general, they had their arms blazoned, andstruck medals, and issued "brevets, " and "lettres patentes, " and grantedpensions to certain individuals, stating their claims to be enrolled inthe regiment for some egregious extravagance. The wits versified thesearmy commissions; and the idlers, like pioneers, were busied in clearingtheir way, by picking up the omissions and commissions of the most notedcharacters. Those who were favoured with its "brevets" intrigued againstthe regiment; but at length they found it easier to wear their"calotte, " and say nothing. This society began in raillery andplayfulness, seasoned by a spice of malice. It produced a great numberof ingenious and satirical little things. That the privileges of the"calotte" were afterwards abused, and calumny too often took the placeof poignant satire, is the history of human nature as well as of "thecalotins. "[140]

Another society in the same spirit has been discovered in one of thelordships of Poland. It was called "The Republic of Baboonery. " Thesociety was a burlesque model of their own government: a king, chancellor, councillors, archbishops, judges, &c. If a member wouldengross the conversation, he was immediately appointed orator of therepublic. If he spoke with impropriety, the absurdity of hisconversation usually led to some suitable office created to perpetuatehis folly. A man talking too much of dogs, would be made a master of thebuck-hounds; or vaunting his courage, perhaps a field-marshal; and ifbigoted on disputable matters and speculative opinions in religion, hewas considered to be nothing less than an inquisitor. This was apleasant and useful project to reform the manners of the Polish youth;and one of the Polish kings good-humourdly observed, that he consideredhimself "as much King of Baboonery as King of Poland. " We have had inour own country some attempts at similar Saturnalia; but their successhas been so equivocal that they hardly afford materials for our domestichistory. 

RELIQUIÆ GETHINIANÆ. 

In the south aisle of Westminster Abbey stands a monument erected to thememory of Lady Grace Gethin. [141] A statue of her ladyship representsher kneeling, holding a book in her hand. This accomplished lady wasconsidered as a prodigy in her day, and appears to have created afeeling of enthusiasm for her character. She died early, having scarcelyattained to womanhood, although a wife; for "all this goodness and allthis excellence was bounded within the compass of twenty years. "

But it is her book commemorated in marble, and not her character, whichmay have merited the marble that chronicles it, which has excited mycuriosity and my suspicion. After her death a number of loose paperswere found in her handwriting, which could not fail to attract, and, perhaps, astonish their readers, with the maturity of thought and thevast capacity which had composed them. These reliques of genius werecollected together, methodised under heads, and appeared with the titleof "Reliquiæ Gethinianæ; or some remains of Grace Lady Gethin, latelydeceased: being a collection of choice discourses, pleasant apothegms, and witty sentences; written by her for the most part by way of essay, and at spare hours; published by her nearest relations, to preserve hermemory. Second edition, 1700. "

Of this book, considering that comparatively it is modern, and the copybefore me is called a second edition, it is somewhat extraordinary thatit seems always to have been a very scarce one. Even Ballard, in hisMemoirs of Learned Ladies (1750), mentions that these remains "are verydifficult to be procured;" and Sir William Musgrave in a manuscript noteobserved, that "this book was very scarce. " It bears now a high price. Ahint is given in the preface that the work was chiefly printed for theuse of her friends; yet, by a second edition, we must infer that thepublic at large were so. There is a poem prefixed with the signatureW. C. Which no one will hesitate to pronounce is by Congreve; he wroteindeed another poem to celebrate this astonishing book, for, consideredas the production of a young lady, it is a miraculous, rather than ahuman, production. The last lines in this poem we might expect fromCongreve in his happier vein, who contrives to preserve his panegyricamidst that caustic wit, with which he keenly touched the age. 

 A POEM IN PRAISE OF THE AUTHOR. 

 I that hate books, such as come daily out By public license to the reading rout, A due religion yet observe to this; And here assert, if any thing's amiss, It can be only the compiler's fault, Who has ill-drest the charming author's thought, -- That was all right: her beauteous looks were join'd To a no less admired excelling mind. 

 But, oh! this glory of frail Nature's dead, As I shall be that write, and you that read. [142] Once, to be out of fashion, I'll conclude With something that may tend to public good; I wish that piety, for which in heaven The fair is placed--to the lawn sleeves were given: Her justice--to the knot of men, whose care From the raised millions is to take their share. W. C. 

The book claimed all the praise the finest genius could bestow on it. But let us hear the editor. --He tells us, that "It is a vastdisadvantage to authors to publish their _private undigested thoughts_, and _first notions hastily set down_, and designed only as materials fora future structure. " And he adds, "That the work may not come short ofthat great and just expectation which the world had of her whilst shewas alive, and still has of everything that is the genuine product ofher pen, they must be told that this _was written for the most part inhaste_, were her _first conceptions_ and overflowings of her luxuriantfancy, noted with _her pencil at spare hours_, or _as she was dressing_, as her Πἁρεργον only; and _set down just as they came into her mind_. "

All this will serve as a memorable example of the cant and mendacity ofan editor! and that total absence of critical judgment that could assertsuch matured reflection, in so exquisite a style, could ever have been"first conceptions, just as they came into the mind of Lady Gethin, asshe was dressing. "

The truth is, that Lady Gethin may have had little concern in all these"Reliquiæ Gethinianæ. " They indeed might well have delighted theirreaders; but those who had read Lord Bacon's Essays, and other writers, such as Owen Feltham and Osborne, from whom these relics are chieflyextracted, might have wondered that Bacon should have been so littleknown to the families of the Nortons and the Gethins, to whom herladyship was allied; to Congreve and to the editor; and still moreparticularly to subsequent compilers, as Ballard in his Memoirs, andlately the Rev. Mark Noble in his Continuation of Granger; who both, with all the innocence of Criticism, give specimens of these "Relics, "without a suspicion that they were transcribing literally from LordBacon's Essays! Unquestionably Lady Gethin herself intended noimposture; her mind had all the delicacy of her sex; she noted much fromthe books she seems most to have delighted in; and nothing less than themost undiscerning friends could have imagined that everything written bythe hand of this young lady was her "first conceptions;" and _apologise_for some of the finest thoughts, in the most vigorous style which theEnglish language can produce. It seems, however, to prove that LordBacon's Essays were not much read at the time this volume appeared. 

The marble book in Westminster Abbey must, therefore, lose most of itsleaves; but it was necessary to discover the origin of this miraculousproduction of a young lady. What is Lady Gethin's, or what is not hers, in this miscellany of plagiarisms, it is not material to examine. Thosepassages in which her ladyship speaks in her own person probably are oforiginal growth; of this kind many evince great vivacity of thought, drawn from actual observation on what was passing around her; but evenamong these are intermixed the splendid passages of Bacon and otherwriters. 

I shall not crowd my pages with specimens of a very suspicious author. One of her subjects has attracted my attention; for it shows the corruptmanners of persons of fashion who lived between 1680 and 1700. To find amind so pure and elevated as Lady Gethin's unquestionably was, discussing whether it were most advisable to have for a husband ageneral lover, or one attached to a mistress, and deciding by the forceof reasoning in favour of the dissipated man (for a woman, it seems, hadonly the alternative), evinces a public depravation of morals. Thesemanners were the wretched remains of the court of Charles the Second, when Wycherley, Dryden, and Congreve seem to have written with much lessinvention, in their indecent plots and language, than is imagined. 

 I know not which is worse, to be wife to a man that is continually changing his _loves_, or to an husband that hath but one mistress whom he loves with a constant passion. And if you keep some measure of civility to her, he will at least esteem you; but he of the roving humour plays an hundred frolics that divert the town and perplex his wife. She often meets with her husband's mistress, and is at a loss how to carry herself towards her. 'Tis true the constant man is ready to sacrifice, every moment, his whole family to his love; he hates any place where she is not, is prodigal in what concerns his love, covetous in other respects; expects you should be blind to all he doth, and though you can't but see, yet must not dare to complain. And though both, he who lends his heart to whosoever pleases it, and he that gives it entirely to one, do both of them require the exactest devoir from their wives, yet I know not if it be not better to be wife to an inconstant husband (provided he be something discreet), than to a constant fellow who is always perplexing her with his inconstant humour. For the unconstant lovers are commonly the best humoured; but let them be what they will, women ought not to be unfaithful for Virtue's sake and their own, nor to offend by example. It is one of the best bonds of charity and obedience in the wife if she think her husband wise, which she will never do if she find him jealous. 

 "Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses. "

The last degrading sentence is found alas! in the Moral Essays of Bacon. Lady Gethin, with an intellect superior to that of the women of thatday, had no conception of the dignity of the female character, theclaims of virtue, and the duties of honour. A wife was only to knowobedience and silence: however, she hints that such a husband should notbe jealous! There was a sweetness in revenge reserved for some of thesemarried women. 

ROBINSON CRUSOE. 

Robinson Crusoe, the favourite of the learned and the unlearned, of theyouth and the adult; the book that was to constitute the library ofRousseau's Emilius, owes its secret charm to its being a newrepresentation of human nature, yet drawn from an existing state; thispicture of self-education, self-inquiry, self-happiness, is scarcely afiction, although it includes all the magic of romance; and is not amere narrative of truth, since it displays all the forcible genius ofone of the most original minds our literature can boast. The history ofthe work is therefore interesting. It was treated in the author's timeas a mere idle romance, for the philosophy was not discovered in thestory; after his death it was considered to have been pillaged from thepapers of Alexander Selkirk, confided to the author, and the honour, aswell as the genius, of De Foe were alike questioned. 

The entire history of this work of genius may now be traced, from thefirst hints to the mature state, to which only the genius of De Foecould have wrought it. 

The adventures of Selkirk are well known: he was found on the desertisland of Juan Fernandez, where he had formerly been left, by WoodesRogers and Edward Cooke, who in 1712 published their voyages, and toldthe extraordinary history of Crusoe's prototype, with all those curiousand minute particulars which Selkirk had freely communicated to them. This narrative of itself is extremely interesting, and has been givenentire by Captain Burney; it may also be found in the BiographiaBritannica. 

In this artless narrative we may discover more than the embryo ofRobinson Crusoe. --The first appearance of Selkirk, "a man clothed ingoats' skins, who looked more wild than the first owners of them. " Thetwo huts he had built, the one to dress his victuals, the other to sleepin: his contrivance to get fire, by rubbing two pieces of pimento woodtogether; his distress for the want of bread and salt, till he came torelish his meat without either; his wearing out his shoes, till he grewso accustomed to be without them, that he could not for a long timeafterwards, on his return home, use them without inconvenience; hisbedstead of his own contriving, and his bed of goat-skins; when hisgunpowder failed, his teaching himself by continual exercise to run asswiftly as the goats; his falling from a precipice in catching hold of agoat, stunned and bruised, till coming to his senses he found the goatdead under him; his taming kids to divert himself by dancing with themand his cats; his converting a nail into a needle; his sewing hisgoatskins with little thongs of the same; and when his knife was worn tothe back, contriving to make blades out of some iron hoops. His solacinghimself in this solitude by singing psalms, and preserving a socialfeeling in his fervent prayers. And the habitation which Selkirk hadraised, to reach which they followed him "with difficulty, climbing upand creeping down many rocks, till they came at last to a pleasant spotof ground full of grass and of trees, where stood his two huts, and hisnumerous tame goats showed his solitary retreat;" and, finally, hisindifference to return to a world from which his feelings had been soperfectly weaned. --Such were the first rude materials of a new situationin human nature; an European in a primeval state, with the habits ormind of a savage. 

The year after this account was published, Selkirk and his adventuresattracted the notice of Steele, who was not likely to pass unobserved aman and a story so strange and so new. In his paper of "The Englishman, "Dec. 1713, he communicates farther particulars of Selkirk. Steele becameacquainted with him; he says, that "he could discern that he had beenmuch separated from company from his aspect and gesture. There was astrong but cheerful seriousness in his looks, and a certain disregard tothe ordinary things about him, as if he had been sunk in thought. Theman frequently bewailed his return to the world, which could not, hesaid, with all its enjoyments, restore him to the tranquillity of hissolitude. " Steele adds another very curious change in this wild man, which occurred some time after he had seen him. "Though I had frequentlyconversed with him, after a few months' absence, he met me in thestreet, and though he spoke to me, I could not recollect that I had seenhim. Familiar converse in this town had taken off the loneliness of hisaspect, and quite altered the air of his face. " De Foe could not fail ofbeing struck by these interesting particulars of the character ofSelkirk; but probably it was another observation of Steele which threwthe germ of Robinson Crusoe into the mind of De Foe. "It was matter ofgreat curiosity to hear him, as he was a man of sense, give an accountof the _different revolutions in his own mind in that long solitude_. "

The work of De Foe, however, was no sudden ebullition: long engaged inpolitical warfare, condemned to suffer imprisonment, and at lengthstruck by a fit of apoplexy, this unhappy and unprosperous man of geniuson his recovery was reduced to a comparative state of solitude. To hisinjured feelings and lonely contemplations, Selkirk in his Desert Isle, and Steele's vivifying hint, often occurred; and to all these we perhapsowe the instructive and delightful tale, which shows man what he can dofor himself, and what the fortitude of piety does for man. Even thepersonage of Friday is not a mere coinage of his brain: a MosquitoIndian, described by Dampier, was the prototype. Robinson Crusoe was notgiven to the world till 1719, seven years after the publication ofSelkirk's adventures. [143] Selkirk could have no claims on De Foe; forhe had only supplied the man of genius with that which lies open to all;and which no one had, or perhaps could have, converted into thewonderful story we possess but De Foe himself. Had De Foe not writtenRobinson Crusoe, the name and story of Selkirk had been passed over likeothers of the same sort; yet Selkirk has the merit of having detailedhis own history, in a manner so interesting, as to have attracted thenotice of Steele, and to have inspired the genius of De Foe. 

After this, the originality of Robinson Crusoe will no longer besuspected; and the idle tale which Dr. Beattie has repeated of Selkirkhaving supplied the materials of his story to De Foe, from which ourauthor borrowed his work, and published for his own profit, will befinally put to rest. This is due to the injured honour and genius of DeFoe. 

CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT DRAMAS. 

Literature, and the arts connected with it, in this free country, havebeen involved with its political state, and have sometimes flourished ordeclined with the fortunes, or been made instrumental to the purposes, of the parties which had espoused them. Thus in our dramatic history, inthe early period of the Reformation, the Catholics were secretly workingon the stage; and long afterwards the royalist party, under Charles theFirst, possessed it till they provoked their own ruin. The Catholics, intheir expiring cause, took refuge in the theatre, and disguised theinvectives they would have invented in sermons, under the more popularforms of the drama, where they freely ridiculed the chiefs of the _newreligion_, as they termed the Reformation, and "the new Gospellers, " orthose who quoted their Testament, as an authority for their proceedings. Fuller notices this circumstance. "The popish priests, though unseen, stood behind the hangings, or lurked in the tyring-house. "[144] Thesefound supporters among the elder part of their auditors, who weretenacious of their old habits and doctrines; and opposers in theyounger, who eagerly adopted the term Reformation in its full sense. 

This conduct of the Catholics called down a proclamation from Edward theSixth, (1549, ) when we find that the government was most anxious thatthese pieces should not be performed in "the English tongue;" so that wemay infer that the government was not alarmed at treason in Latin. [145]This proclamation states, "that a great number of those that be commonplayers of interludes or plays, as well within the city of London aselsewhere, who for the most part play such interludes as contain mattertending to sedition, &c. , &c. , whereupon are grown, and daily are liketo grow, much division, tumult, and uproars in this realm. The kingcharges his subjects that they should not openly or secretly play in the_English tongue_ any kind of _Interlude_, _Play_, _Dialogue_, or othermatter set forth in _form of Play_, on pain of imprisonment, " &c. [146]

This was, however, but a temporary prohibition; it cleared the stage fora time of these Catholic dramatists; but _reformed Enterludes_, as theywere termed, were afterwards permitted. 

These Catholic dramas would afford some speculations to historicalinquirers: we know they made very free strictures on the first heads ofthe Reformation, on Cromwell, Cranmer, and their party; but they wereprobably overcome in their struggles with their prevailing rivals. Somemay yet possibly lurk in their manuscript state. We have, printed, oneof those Moralities, or moral plays, or allegorical dramatic pieces, which succeeded the Mysteries in the reign of Henry the Eighth, entitled"Every Man:" in the character of that hero, the writer not unaptlydesignates Human Nature herself. [147] This comes from the Catholicschool, to recall the auditors back to the forsaken ceremonies of thatchurch; but it levels no strokes of personal satire on the Reformers. Percy observed that, from the solemnity of the subjects, the summoningof man out of the world by death, and by the gravity of its conduct, notwithout some attempts, however rude, to excite terror and pity, thisMorality may not improperly be referred to the class of Tragedy. Suchancient simplicity is not worthless to the poetical antiquary; althoughthe mere modern reader would soon feel weary at such inartificialproductions, yet the invention which may be discovered in these rudepieces would be sublime, warm with the colourings of a Gray or aCollins. 

On the side of the Reformed we have no deficiency of attacks on thesuperstitions and idolatries of the Romish church; and Satan, and hisold son Hypocrisy, are very busy at their intrigues with another herocalled "Lusty Juventus, " and the seductive mistress they introduce himto, "Abominable Living:" this was printed in the reign of Edward theSixth. It is odd enough to see quoted in a dramatic performance chapterand verse, as formally as if a sermon were to be performed. There wefind such rude learning as this:--

 Read the V. To the Galatians, and there you shall see That the flesh rebelleth against the spirit--

or in homely rhymes like these--

 I will show you what St. Paul doth declare In his epistle to the Hebrews, and the X. Chapter. 

In point of historical information respecting the pending strugglebetween the Catholics and the "new Gospellers, " we do not glean muchsecret history from these pieces; yet they curiously exemplify thatregular progress in the history of man, which has shown itself in themore recent revolutions of Europe; the old people still clinging, fromhabit and affection, to what is obsolete, and the young ardent inestablishing what is new; while the balance of human happiness tremblesbetween both. 

Thus "Lusty Juventus" conveys to us in his rude simplicity the feelingof that day. Satan, in lamenting the downfall of superstition, declaresthat--

 The old people would believe still in my laws, But the younger sort lead them a contrary way-- They will live as the Scripture teacheth them. 

Hypocrisy, when informed by his old master, the Devil, of the changethat "Lusty Juventus" has undergone, expresses his surprise; attachingthat usual odium of meanness on the early reformers, in the spirit thatthe Hollanders were nicknamed at their first revolution by their lordsthe Spaniards, "Les Gueux, " or the Beggars. 

 What, is Juventus become so tame, To be a new Gospeller?

But in his address to the young reformer, who asserts that he is notbound to obey his parents but "in all things honest and lawful, "Hypocrisy thus vents his feelings:--

 Lawful, quoth ha! Ah! fool! fool! Wilt thou set men to school When they be old? I may say to you secretly, The world was never merry Since children were so bold; Now every boy will be a teacher, The father a fool, the child a preacher; This is pretty gear! The foul presumption of youth Will shortly turn to great ruth, I fear, I fear, I fear!

In these rude and simple lines there is something like the artifice ofcomposition: the repetition of words in the first and the last lines wasdoubtless intended as a grace in the poetry. That the ear of the poetwas not unmusical, amidst the inartificial construction of his verse, will appear in this curious catalogue of holy things, which Hypocrisyhas drawn up, not without humour, in asserting the services he hadperformed for the Devil. 

 And I brought up such superstition Under the name of holiness and religion, That deceived almost all. 

 As--holy cardinals, holy popes, Holy vestments, holy copes, Holy hermits, and friars, Holy priests, holy bishops, Holy monks, holy abbots, Yea, and all obstinate liars. 

 Holy pardons, holy beads, Holy saints, holy images, With holy holy blood. Holy stocks, holy stones, Holy clouts, holy bones, Yea, and holy holy wood. 

 Holy skins, holy bulls, Holy rochets, and cowls, Holy crutches and staves, Holy hoods, holy caps, Holy mitres, holy hats, And good holy holy knaves. 

 Holy days, holy fastings, Holy twitchings, holy tastings Holy visions and sights, Holy wax, holy lead, Holy water, holy bread, To drive away sprites. 

 Holy fire, holy palme, Holy oil, holy cream, And holy ashes also; Holy broaches, holy rings, Holy kneeling, holy censings, And a hundred trim-trams mo. 

 Holy crosses, holy bells, Holy reliques, holy jouels, Of mine own invention; Holy candles, holy tapers, Holy parchments, holy papers;-- Had not you a holy son?

Some of these Catholic dramas were long afterwards secretly performedamong Catholic families. In an unpublished letter of the times, I find acause in the Star-chamber respecting a play being acted at Christmas, 1614, at the house of Sir John Yorke; the consequences of which wereheavy fines and imprisonment. The letter-writer describes it ascontaining "many foul passages to the vilifying of our religion andexacting of popery, for which he and his lady, as principal procurers, were fined one thousand pounds apiece, and imprisoned in the Tower for ayear; two or three of his brothers at five hundred pounds apiece, andothers in other sums. "

THE HISTORY OF THE THEATRE DURING ITS SUPPRESSION. 

A period in our dramatic annals has been passed over during the progressof the civil wars, which indeed was one of silence, but not of repose inthe theatre. It lasted beyond the death of Charles the First, when thefine arts seemed also to have suffered with the monarch. The theatre, for the first time in any nation, was abolished by a public ordinance, and the actors, and consequently all that family of genius who by theirlabours or their tastes are connected with the drama, were reduced tosilence. The actors were forcibly dispersed, and became even some of themost persecuted objects of the new government. 

It may excite our curiosity to trace the hidden footsteps of thisnumerous fraternity of genius. Hypocrisy and Fanaticism had, at length, triumphed over Wit and Satire. A single blow could not, however, annihilate those never-dying powers; nor is suppression alwaysextinction. Reduced to a state which did not allow of uniting in a body, still their habits and their affections could not desert them: actorswould attempt to resume their functions, and the genius of the authorsand the tastes of the people would occasionally break out, thoughscattered and concealed. 

Mr. Gifford has noticed, in his introduction to Massinger, the noblecontrast between our actors at that time, with those of revolutionaryFrance, when, to use his own emphatic expression--"One wretched actoronly deserted his sovereign; while of the vast multitude fostered by thenobility and the royal family of France, not one individual adhered totheir cause: all rushed madly forward to plunder and assassinate theirbenefactors. "

The contrast is striking, but the result must be traced to a differentprinciple; for the cases are not parallel as they appear. The Frenchactors did not occupy the same ground as ours. Here, the fanatics shutup the theatre, and extirpated the art and the artists: there, thefanatics enthusiastically converted the theatre into an instrument oftheir own revolution, and the French actors therefore found an increasednational patronage. It was natural enough that actors would not desert aflourishing profession. "The plunder and assassinations, " indeed, werequite peculiar to themselves as Frenchmen, not as actors. 

The destruction of the theatre here was the result of an ancient quarrelbetween the puritanic party and the whole _corps dramatique_. In thislittle history of plays and players, like more important history, weperceive how all human events form but a series of consequences, linkedtogether; and we must go back to the reign of Elizabeth to comprehend anevent which occurred in that of Charles the First. It has been perhapspeculiar to this land of contending opinions, and of happy and unhappyliberty, that a gloomy sect was early formed, who drawing, as theyfancied, the principles of their conduct from the literal precepts ofthe Gospel, formed those views of human nature which were morepracticable in a desert than a city, and which were rather suited to amonastic order than to a polished people. These were our puritans, whoat first, perhaps from utter simplicity, among other extravagantreforms, imagined that of the extinction of the theatre. Numerous worksfrom that time fatigued their own pens and their readers' heads, foundedon literal interpretations of the Scriptures, which were applied to ourdrama, though written ere our drama existed: voluminous quotations fromthe Fathers, who had only witnessed farcical interludes and licentiouspantomimes: they even quoted classical authority to prove that a"stage-player" was considered infamous by the Romans; among whom, however, Roscius, the admiration of Rome, received the princelyremuneration of a thousand denarii per diem; the tragedian, Æsopus, bequeathed about £150, 000 to his son;[148] remunerations which show thehigh regard in which the great actors were held among the Roman people. 

A series of writers might be collected of these anti-dramatists. [149]The licentiousness of our comedies had too often indeed presented a fairoccasion for their attacks; and they at length succeeded in purifyingthe stage: we owe them this good, but we owe little gratitude to thatblind zeal which was desirous of extinguishing the theatre, which wantedthe taste also to feel that the theatre was a popular school ofmorality; that the stage is a supplement to the pulpit; where virtue, according to Plato's sublime idea, moves our love and affections whenmade visible to the eye. Of this class, among the earliest writers wasStephen Gosson, who in 1579 published "The School of Abuse, or aPleasant Invective against Poets, Players, Jesters, and such likeCaterpillars. " Yet this Gosson dedicated his work to Sir Philip Sidney, a great lover of plays, and one who has vindicated their morality in his"Defence of Poesy. " The same puritanic spirit soon reached ouruniversities; for when a Dr. Gager had a play performed at Christchurch, Dr. Reynolds, of Queen's College, terrified at the Satanic novelty, published "The Ouerthrow of Stage-plays, " 1593; a tedious invective, foaming at the mouth of its text with quotations and authorities; forthat was the age when authority was stronger than opinion, and theslightest could awe the readers. Reynolds takes great pains to provethat a stage-play is infamous, by the opinions of antiquity; that atheatre corrupts morals, by those of the Fathers; but the mostreasonable point of attack is "the sin of boys wearing the dress andaffecting the airs of women. "[150] This was too long a flagrant evil inthe theatrical economy. To us there appears something so repulsive inthe exhibition of boys, or men, personating female characters, that onecannot conceive how they could ever have been tolerated as a substitutefor the spontaneous grace, the melting voice, and the soothing looks ofa female. It was quite impossible to give the tenderness of a woman toany perfection of feeling, in a personating male; and to this cause maywe not attribute that the female characters have never been made chiefpersonages among our elder poets, as they would assuredly have been, hadthey not been conscious that the male actor could not have sufficientlyaffected the audience? A poet who lived in Charles the Second's day, andwho has written a prologue to Othello, to introduce the _first actress_on our stage, has humorously touched on this gross absurdity. 

 Our women are defective, and so sized, You'd think they were some of the Guard disguised; For to speak truth, men act, that are between Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen; With brows so large, and nerve so uncompliant, When you call _Desdemona_--enter _Giant_. 

Yet at the time the absurd custom prevailed, Tom Nash, in his _PiercePennilesse_, commends our stage for not having, as they had abroad, women-actors, or "courtezans, " as he calls them: and even so late as in1650, when women were first introduced on our stage, endless are theapologies for the _indecorum_ of this novel usage! Such are thedifficulties which occur even in forcing bad customs to return tonature; and so long does it take to infuse into the multitude a littlecommon sense! It is even probable that this happy revolution originatedfrom mere necessity, rather than from choice; for the boys who had beentrained to act female characters before the Rebellion, during thepresent suspension of the theatre, had grown too masculine to resumetheir tender office at the Restoration; and, as the same poet observes, Doubting we should never play agen, We have played all our _women_ into _men_;

so that the introduction of women was the mere result ofnecessity:--hence all these apologies for the most natural ornament ofthe stage. [151]

This volume of Reynolds seems to have been the shadow and precursor ofone of the most substantial of literary monsters, in the tremendous"Histriomastix, or Player's Scourge, " of Prynne, in 1633. In thatvolume, of more than a thousand closely-printed quarto pages, all thatwas ever written against plays and players, perhaps, may be found: whatfollowed could only have been transcripts from a genius who could raiseat once the Mountain and the Mouse. Yet Collier, so late as in 1698, renewed the attack still more vigorously, and with final success;although he left room for Arthur Bedford a few years afterwards, in his"Evil and Danger of Stage-plays:" in which extraordinary work heproduced "seven thousand instances, taken out of plays of the presentcentury;" and a catalogue of "fourteen hundred texts of scripture, ridiculed by the Stage. " This religious anti-dramatist must have beenmore deeply read in the drama than even its most fervent lovers. Hispiety pursued too deeply the study of such impious productions; and suchlabours were probably not without more amusement than he ought to havefound in them. 

This stage persecution, which began in the reign of Elizabeth, had beennecessarily resented by the theatrical people, and the fanatics werereally objects too tempting for the traders in wit and satire to passby. They had made themselves very marketable; and the puritans, changingtheir character with the times, from Elizabeth to Charles the First, were often the _Tartuffes_ of the stage. [152] But when they became thegovernment itself, in 1642, all the theatres were suppressed, because"stage-plaies do not suit with seasons of humiliation; but fasting andpraying have been found very effectual. " This was but a mild cant, andthe suppression, at first, was only to be temporary. But as they gainedstrength, the hypocrite, who had at first only struck a gentle blow atthe theatre, with redoubled vengeance buried it in its own ruins. Alexander Brome, in his verses on Richard Brome's Comedies, disclosesthe secret motive:--

 ---- 'Tis worth our note, Bishops and _players_, both suffer'd in one vote: And reason good, for _they_ had cause to fear them; One did suppress their schisms, and t'other JEER THEM. Bishops were guiltiest, for they swell'd with riches; T'other had nought but verses, songs and speeches, And by their ruin, the state did no more But rob the spittle, and unrag the poor. 

They poured forth the long-suppressed bitterness of their souls sixyears afterwards, in their ordinance of 1648, for "the suppression ofall stage-plaies, and for the taking down all their boxes, stages, andseats whatsoever, that so there might be no more plaies acted. " "Thoseproud parroting players" are described as "a sort of superbiousruffians; and, because sometimes the asses are clothed in lions' skins, the dolts imagine themselves somebody, and walke in as great state asCæsar. " This ordinance against "boxes, stages, and seats, " was, withouta metaphor, a war of extermination. They passed their ploughshare overthe land of the drama, and sowed it with their salt; and the spiritwhich raged in the governing powers appeared in the deed of one of theirfollowers. When an actor had honourably surrendered himself in battle tothis spurious "saint, " he exclaimed, "Cursed be he who doth the work ofthe Lord negligently, " and shot his prisoner because he was an actor!

We find some account of the dispersed actors in that curious morsel of"Historica Histrionica, " preserved in the twelfth volume of Dodsley'sOld Plays; full of the traditional history of the theatre, which thewriter appears to have gleaned from the reminiscences of the oldcavalier, his father. 

The actors were "Malignants" to a man, if we except that "wretchedactor, " as Mr. Gifford distinguishes him, who was, however, only suchfor his politics: and he pleaded hard for his treason, that he reallywas a presbyterian, although an actor. Of these men, who had lived inthe sunshine of a court, and amidst taste and criticism, many perishedin the field, from their affection for their royal master. Some soughthumble occupations; and not a few, who, by habits long indulged, andtheir own turn of mind, had hands too delicate to put to work, attemptedoften to entertain secret audiences, and were often dragged to prison. 

These disturbed audiences were too unpleasant to afford much employmentto the actors. Francis Kirkman, the author and bookseller, tells us theywere often seized on by the soldiers, and stripped and fined at theirpleasure. A curious circumstance occurred in the economy of thesestrolling theatricals: these seizures often deprived them of theirwardrobe; and among the stage directions of the time, may be found amongthe exits and the entrances, these: _Enter the red coat--Exit hat andcloak_, which were, no doubt, considered not as the least precious partsof the whole living company: they were at length obliged to substitutepainted cloth for the splendid habits of the drama. 

At this epoch a great comic genius, Robert Cox, invented a peculiar sortof dramatic exhibition, suited to the necessities of the time, shortpieces which he mixed with other amusements, that these might disguisethe acting. It was under the pretence of rope-dancing that he filled theRed Bull playhouse, which was a large one, with such a confluence thatas many went back for want of room as entered. The dramatic contrivanceconsisted of a combination of the richest comic scenes into one piece, from Shakspeare, Marston, Shirley, &c. , concealed under some takingtitle; and these pieces of plays were called "Humours" or "Drolleries. "These have been collected by Marsh, and reprinted by Kirkman, as puttogether by Cox, for the use of theatrical booths at fairs. [153] Theargument prefixed to each piece serves as its plot; and drawn as mostare from some of our dramas, these "Drolleries" may still be read withgreat amusement, and offer, seen altogether, an extraordinary specimenof our national humour. The price this collection obtains amongbook-collectors is excessive. In "The bouncing Knight, or the Robbersrobbed, " we recognise our old friend Falstaff, and his celebratedadventure: "The Equal Match" is made out of "Rule a Wife and have aWife;" and thus most. There are, however, some original pieces, by Coxhimself, which were the most popular favourites; being characterscreated by himself, for himself, from ancient farces: such were _TheHumours of John Swabber, Simpleton the Smith_, &c. These remind us ofthe extemporal comedy and the pantomimical characters of Italy, inventedby actors of genius. This Cox was the delight of the city, the country, and the universities: assisted by the greatest actors of the time, expelled from the theatre, it was he who still preserved alive, as itwere by stealth, the suppressed spirit of the drama. That he merited thedistinctive epithet of "the incomparable Robert Cox, " as Kirkman callshim, we can only judge by the memorial of our mimetic genius, which willbe best given in Kirkman's words. "As meanly as you may now think ofthese Drolls, they were then acted by the best comedians; and, I maysay, by some that then exceeded all now living; the incomparable RobertCox, who was not only the principal actor, but also the contriver andauthor of most of these farces. How have I heard him cried up for his_John Swabber_, and _Simpleton the Smith_; in which he being to appearwith a large piece of bread and butter, I have frequently known severalof the female spectators and auditors to long for it; and once thatwell-known natural, _Jack Adams of Clerkenwell_, seeing him with breadand butter on the stage, and knowing him, cried out, 'Cuz! Cuz! give mesome!' to the great pleasure of the audience. And so naturally did heact the smith's part, that being at a fair in a country town, and thatfarce being presented, the only master-smith of the town came to him, saying, 'Well, although your father speaks so ill of you, yet when thefair is done, if you will come and work with me, I will give you twelvepence a week more than I give any other journeyman. ' Thus was he takenfor a smith bred, that was, indeed, as much of any trade. "

To this low state the gloomy and exasperated fanatics, who had so oftensmarted under the satirical whips of the dramatists, had reduced thedrama itself; without, however, extinguishing the talents of theplayers, or the finer ones of those who once derived their fame fromthat noble arena of genius, the English stage. At the first suspensionof the theatre by the Long Parliament in 1642, they gave vent to theirfeelings in an admirable satire. About this time "petitions" to theparliament from various classes were put into vogue; multitudes werepresented to the House from all parts of the country, and from the cityof London; and some of these were extraordinary. The _porters_, said tohave been 15, 000 in number, declaimed with great eloquence on thebloodsucking malignants for insulting the privileges of parliament, andthreatened to come to extremities, and make good the saying "necessityhas no law;" there was one from the _beggars_, who declared, that bymeans of the bishops and popish lords they knew not where to get bread;and we are told of a third from the _tradesmen's wives_ in London, headed by a brewer's wife: all these were encouraged by their party, andwere alike "most thankfully accepted. "

The satirists soon turned this new political trick of "petitions" intoan instrument for their own purpose: we have "Petitions of thePoets, "--of the House of Commons to the King, --Remonstrances to thePorters' Petition, &c. : spirited political satires. One of these, the"Players' Petition to the Parliament, " after being so long silenced, that they might play again, is replete with sarcastic allusions. It maybe found in that rare collection, entitled "Rump Songs, " 1662, but withthe usual incorrectness of the press in that day. The following extractI have corrected from a manuscript copy:--

 Now while you reign, our low petition craves That we, the king's true subjects and your slaves, May in our comic mirth and tragic rage Set up the theatre, and show the stage; This shop of truth and fancy, where we vow Not to act anything you disallow. We will not dare at your strange votes to jeer, Or personate King PYM[154] with his state-fleer; Aspiring Catiline should be forgot, Bloody Sejanus, or whoe'er could plot Confusion 'gainst a state; the war betwixt The Parliament and just Harry the Sixth Shall have no thought or mention, 'cause their power Not only placed, but lost him in the Tower; Nor will we parallel, with least suspicion, Your synod with the Spanish inquisition. All these, and such like maxims as may mar Your soaring plots, or show you what you are, We shall omit, lest our inventions shake them: Why should the men be wiser than you make them? We think there should not such a difference be 'Twixt our profession and your quality: You meet, plot, act, talk high with minds immense; The like with us, but only we speak sense Inferior unto yours; we can tell how To depose kings, there we know more than you, Although not more than what we would; then we Likewise in our vast privilege agree; But that yours is the larger; and controls Not only lives and fortunes, but men's souls, Declaring by an enigmatic sense A privilege on each man's conscience, As if the Trinity could not consent To save a soul but by the parliament. We make the people laugh at some strange show, And as they laugh at us, they do at you; Only i' the contrary we disagree, For you can make them cry faster than we. Your tragedies more real are express'd, You murder men in earnest, we in jest: There we come short; but if you follow thus, Some wise men fear you will come short of us. As humbly as we did begin, we pray, Dear schoolmasters, you'll give us leave to play Quickly before the king comes; for we would Be glad to say you've done a little good Since you have sat: your play is almost done As well as ours--would it had ne'er begun. But we shall find, ere the last act be spent, _Enter the King, exeunt the Parliament. _ And _Heigh then up we go!_ who by the frown Of guilty members have been voted down, Until a legal trial show us how You used the king, and _Heigh then up go you!_ So pray your humble slaves with all their powers, That when they have their due, you may have yours. 

Such was the petition of the suppressed players in 1642; but, in 1653, their secret exultation appears, although the stage was not yet restoredto them, in some verses prefixed to RICHARD BROME'S Plays, by ALEXANDERBROME, which may close our little history. Alluding to the theatricalpeople, he moralises on the fate of players:--

 See the strange twirl of times; when such poor things Outlive the dates of parliaments or kings! This revolution makes exploded wit Now see the fall of those that ruin'd it; And the condemned stage hath now obtain'd To see her executioners arraign'd. There's nothing permanent: those high great men, That rose from dust, to dust may fall again; And fate so orders things, that the same hour Sees the same man both in contempt and power; For the multitude, in whom the power doth lie, Do in one breath cry _Hail!_ and _Crucify!_

At this period, though deprived of a theatre, the taste for the dramawas, perhaps, the more lively among its lovers; for, besides theperformances already noticed, sometimes connived at, and sometimesprotected by bribery, in Oliver's time they stole into a practice ofprivately acting at noblemen's houses, particularly at Holland-house, atKensington: and "Alexander Goff, _the woman-actor_, was the jackal, togive notice of time and place to the lovers of the drama, " according tothe writer of "Historica Histrionica. " The players, urged by theirnecessities, published several excellent manuscript plays, which theyhad hoarded in their dramatic exchequers, as the sole property of theirrespective companies. In one year appeared fifty of these new plays. Ofthese dramas many have, no doubt, perished; for numerous titles arerecorded, but the plays are not known; yet some may still remain intheir manuscript state, in hands not capable of valuing them. All ourold plays were the property of the actors, who bought them for their owncompanies. The immortal works of Shakspeare had not descended to us, hadHeminge and Condell felt no sympathy for the fame of their friend. Theyhad been scattered and lost, and, perhaps, had not been discriminatedamong the numerous manuscript plays of that age. One more effort, duringthis suspension of the drama, was made in 1655, to recal the publicattention to its productions. This was a very curious collection by JohnCotgrave, entitled "The English Treasury of Wit and Language, collectedout of the most, and best, of our English Dramatick Poems. " It appearsby Cotgrave's preface, that "The Dramatick Poem, " as he calls ourtragedies and comedies, "had been of late too much slighted. " He tellsus how some, not wanting in wit themselves, but "through a stiff andobstinate prejudice, have, in _this neglect_, lost the benefit of manyrich and useful observations; not duly considering, or believing, thatthe _framers_ of them were the most fluent and redundant wits that thisage, or I think any other, ever knew. " He enters further into this justpanegyric of our old dramatic writers, whose acquired knowledge inancient and modern languages, and whose luxuriant fancies, which theyderived from no other sources but their own native growth, are viewed togreat advantage in COTGRAVE'S commonplaces; and, perhaps, still more inHAYWARD'S "British Muse, " which collection was made under thesupervisal, and by the valuable aid, of OLDYS, an experienced caterer ofthese relishing morsels. 

DRINKING-CUSTOMS IN ENGLAND. 

The ancient Bacchus, as represented in gems and statues, was a youthfuland graceful divinity; he is so described by Ovid, and was so painted byBarry. He has the epithet of _Psilas_, to express the light spiritswhich give wings to the soul. His voluptuousness was joyous and tender;and he was never viewed reeling with intoxication. According to Virgil:

 Et quocunque deus circum _caput_ egit _honestum_. _Georg_. Ii. 392. 

which Dryden, contemplating on the red-faced boorish boy astride on abarrel on our sign-posts, tastelessly sinks into gross vulgarity:

 On whate'er side he turns his _honest_ face. 

This Latinism of _honestum_ even the literal inelegance of Davidson hadspirit enough to translate, "Where'er the god hath moved around his_graceful head_. " The hideous figure of that ebriety, in its mostdisgusting stage, the ancients exposed in the bestial Silenus and hiscrew; and with these, rather than with the Ovidian and Virgilian deity, our own convivial customs have assimilated. 

We shall probably outlive that custom of hard-drinking which was so longone of our national vices. The Frenchman, the Italian, and the Spaniardonly taste the luxury of the grape, but seem never to have indulged inset convivial parties, or drinking-matches, as some of the northernpeople. Of this folly of ours, which was, however, a borrowed one, andwhich lasted for two centuries, the history is curious: the variety ofits modes and customs; its freaks and extravagances; the technicallanguage introduced to raise it into an art; and the inventionscontrived to animate the progress of the thirsty souls of itsvotaries. [155]

Nations, like individuals, in their intercourse are great imitators; andwe have the authority of Camden, who lived at the time, for assertingthat "the English in their long wars in the Netherlands first learnt todrown themselves with immoderate drinking, and by drinking others'healths to impair their own. Of all the northern nations, they had beenbefore this most commended for their sobriety. " And the historian adds, "that the vice had so diffused itself over the nation, that in our daysit was first restrained by severe laws. "[156]

Here we have the authority of a grave and judicious historian forascertaining the first period and even origin of this custom; and thatthe nation had not, heretofore, disgraced itself by such prevalentebriety, is also confirmed by one of those curious contemporarypamphlets of a popular writer, so invaluable to the philosophicalantiquary. Tom Nash, a town-wit of the reign of Elizabeth, long beforeCamden wrote her history, in his "Pierce Pennilesse, " had detected thesame origin. --"Superfluity in drink, " says this spirited writer, "is asin that ever since we have mixed ourselves with the Low Countries iscounted honourable; but before we knew their lingering wars, was held inthat highest degree of hatred that might be. Then if we had seen a mango wallowing in the streets, or lain sleeping under the board, we shouldhave spet at him, and warned all our friends out of his company. "[157]

Such was the fit source of this vile custom, which is further confirmedby the barbarous dialect it introduced into our language; all the termsof drinking which once abounded with us are, without exception, of abase northern origin. [158] But the best account I can find of all therefinements of this new science of potation, when it seems to havereached its height, is in our Tom Nash, who being himself one of thesedeep experimental philosophers, is likely to disclose all the mysteriesof the craft. 

He says--"Now, he is nobody that cannot drink _super-nagulum_;_carouse_ the hunter's _hoope_; quaff _vpse freeze crosse_; with_healths, gloves, mumpes, frolickes_, and a thousand such domineeringinventions. "[159]

_Drinking super-nagulum_, that is, _on the nail_, is a device, whichNash says is new come out of France: but it had probably a northernorigin, for far northward it still exists. This new device consisted inthis, that after a man, says Nash, hath turned up the bottom of the cupto drop it on his nail, and make a pearl with what is left, which if itshed, and cannot make it stand on, by reason there is too much, he mustdrink again for his penance. 

The custom is also alluded to by Bishop Hall in his satirical romance of"_Mundus alter et idem_, " "A Discovery of a New World, " a work whichprobably Swift read, and did not forget. The Duke of Tenter-belly in hisoration, when he drinks off his large goblet of twelve quarts, on hiselection, exclaims, should he be false to their laws--"Let never thisgoodly-formed goblet of wine go jovially through me; and then he set itto his mouth, stole it off every drop, save _a little remainder_, whichhe was by custom to _set upon his thumb's nail_, and lick it off as hedid. "

The phrase is in Fletcher:

 I am thine _ad unguem_--

that is, he would drink with his friend to the last. In a manuscriptletter of the times, I find an account of Columbo, the Spanishambassador, being at Oxford, and drinking healths to the Infanta. Thewriter adds--"I shall not tell you how our doctors pledged healths tothe Infanta and the arch-duchess; and if any left _too big a snuff_, Columbo would cry, _Supernaculum! supernaculum!_"[160]

This Bacchic freak seems still preserved: for a recent traveller, SirGeorge Mackenzie, has noticed the custom in his Travels through Iceland. "His host having filled a silver cup to the brim, and put on the cover, then held it towards the person who sat next to him, and desired him totake off the cover, and look into the cup, a ceremony intended to securefair play in filling it. He drank our health, desiring to be excusedfrom emptying the cup, on account of the indifferent state of hishealth; but we were informed at the same time that if any one of usshould neglect any part of the ceremony, or _fail to invert the cup, placing the edge on one of the thumbs_ as a proof that we had swallowedevery drop, the defaulter would be obliged by the laws of drinking tofill the cup again, and drink it off a second time. In spite of theirutmost exertions, the penalty of a second draught was incurred by two ofthe company; we were dreading the consequences of having swallowed somuch wine, and in terror lest the cup should be sent round again. "

_Carouse the hunter's hoop. _--"Carouse" has been already explained: _thehunter's hoop_ alludes to the custom of hoops being marked on adrinking-pot, by which every man was to measure his draught. Shakspearemakes the Jacobin Jack Cade, among his furious reformations, promise hisfriends that "there shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold fora penny; _the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops_, and I will make ita felony to drink small beer. " I have elsewhere observed that our modernBacchanalians, whose feats are recorded by the bottle, and who insist onan equality in their rival combats, may discover some ingenuity in thatinvention among our ancestors of their _peg-tankards_, of which a fewmay yet occasionally be found in Derbyshire;[161] the invention of anage less refined than the present, when we have heard of globularglasses and bottles, which by their shape cannot stand, but roll aboutthe table; thus compelling the unfortunate Bacchanalian to drain thelast drop, or expose his recreant sobriety. 

We must have recourse again to our old friend Tom Nash, who acquaints uswith some of "the general rules and inventions for drinking, as good asprinted precepts or statutes by act of parliament, that go from drunkardto drunkard; as, still to _keep your first man_; not to leave any_flocks_ in the bottom of the cup; _to knock the glass on your thumb_when you have done; to have some _shoeing-horn_ to pull on your wine, asa rasher on the coals or a red-herring. "

_Shoeing-horns_, sometimes called _gloves_, are also described by BishopHall in his "Mundus alter et idem. " "Then, sir, comes me up _a serviceof shoeing-horns_ of all sorts; salt cakes, red-herrings, anchovies, andgammon of bacon, and abundance of _such pullers-on_. "

That famous surfeit of Rhenish and pickled herrings, which banquetproved so fatal to Robert Green, a congenial wit and associate of ourNash, was occasioned by these _shoeing-horns_. 

Massinger has given a curious list of "_a service of shoeing-horns_. "

 ---- I usher Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast As never yet I cook'd; 'tis not Botargo, Fried frogs, potatoes marrow'd, cavear, Carps' tongues, the pith of an English chine of beef, _Nor our Italian delicate, oil'd mushrooms_, And yet _a drawer-on too_;[162] and if you show not An appetite, and a strong one, I'll not say To eat it, but devour it, without grace too, (For it will not stay a preface) I am shamed, And all my past provocatives will be jeer'd at, MASSINGER, _The Guardian_, A. Ii. S. 3. 

To _knock the glass on the thumb_, was to show they had performed theirduty. Barnaby Rich describes this custom: after having drank, thepresident "turned the bottom of the cup upward, and in ostentation ofhis dexterity, gave it a fillip, to make it cry _ting_. "

They had among these "domineering inventions" some which we may imaginenever took place, till they were told by "the hollow cask"

 How the waning night grew old. 

Such were _flap-dragons_, which were small combustible bodies fired atone end and floated in a glass of liquor, which an experienced toperswallowed unharmed, while yet blazing. Such is Dr. Johnson's accuratedescription, who seems to have witnessed what he so well describes. [163]When Falstaff says of Poins's acts of dexterity to ingratiate himselfwith the prince, that "he drinks off _candle-ends_ for flap-dragons, " itseems that this was likewise one of these "frolics, " for Nash noticesthat the liquor was "to be stirred about with a _candle's-end_, to makeit taste better, and not to hold your peace while the pot is stirring, "no doubt to mark the intrepidity of the miserable "skinker. " The mostillustrious feat of all is one, however, described by Bishop Hall. Ifthe drinker "could put his finger into the flame of the candle withoutplaying hit-I-miss-I! he is held a sober man, however otherwise drunk hemight be. " This was considered as a trial of victory among these"canary-birds, " or bibbers of canary wine. [164]

We have a very common expression to describe a man in a state ofebriety, that "he is as drunk as a beast, " or that "he is beastlydrunk. " This is a libel on the brutes, for the vice of ebriety isperfectly human. I think the phrase is peculiar to ourselves: and Iimagine I have discovered its origin. When ebriety became firstprevalent in our nation, during the reign of Elizabeth, it was afavourite notion among the writers of the time, and on which they haveexhausted their fancy, that a man in the different stages of ebrietyshowed the most vicious quality of different animals; or that a companyof drunkards exhibited a collection of brutes, with their differentcharacteristics. 

"All dronkardes are beasts, " says George Gascoigne, in a curioustreatise on them, [165] and he proceeds in illustrating his proposition;but the satirist Nash has classified eight kinds of "drunkards;" afanciful sketch from the hand of a master in humour, and which couldonly have been composed by a close spectator of their manners andhabits. 

"The first is _ape-drunk_, and he leaps and sings and hollows anddanceth for the heavens; the second is _lyon-drunk_, and he flings thepots about the house, calls the hostess w--- e, breaks the glass-windowswith his dagger, and is apt to quarrel with any man that speaks to him;the third is _swine-drunk_, heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for alittle more drink and a few more clothes; the fourth is _sheep-drunk_, wise in his own conceit when he cannot bring forth a right word; thefifth is _maudlen-drunk_, when a fellow will weep for kindness in themidst of his drink, and kiss you, saying, 'By God! captain, I love thee;go thy ways, thou dost not think so often of me as I do of thee: I would(if it pleased God) I could not love thee so well as I do, ' and then heputs his finger in his eye and cries. The sixth is _martin-drunk_, whena man is drunk, and drinks himself sober ere he stir; the seventh is_goat-drunk_, when in his drunkenness he hath no mind but on lechery. The eighth is _fox-drunk_, when he is crafty-drunk, as many of theDutchmen be, which will never bargain but when they are drunk. Allthese _species_, and more, I have seen practised in _one company at onesitting_; when I have been permitted to remain sober amongst them onlyto note their several humours. " These beast-drunkards are characterisedin a frontispiece to a curious tract on Drunkenness where the men arerepresented with the heads of apes, swine, &c. &c. 

A new era in this history of our drinking-parties occurred about thetime of the Restoration, when politics heated their wine, anddrunkenness and loyalty became more closely connected. As the puritaniccoldness wore off, the people were perpetually, in 1650, warmed indrinking the king's health on their knees; and, among various kinds of"ranting cavalierism, " the cavaliers during Cromwell's usurpationusually put a crumb of bread into their glass, and before they drank itoff, with cautious ambiguity exclaimed, "God send this _crum well_down!" which by the way preserves the orthoëpy of that extraordinaryman's name, and may be added to the instances adduced in our presentvolume "On the orthography of proper names. " We have a curious accountof a drunken bout by some royalists, told by Whitelocke in hisMemorials. It bore some resemblance to the drinking-party of Catiline:they mingled their own blood with their wine. [166] After theRestoration, Burnet complains of the excess of convivial loyalty. "Drinking the king's health was set up by too many as a distinguishingmark of loyalty, and drew many into great excess after his majesty'srestoration. "[167]

LITERARY ANECDOTES. 

A writer of penetration sees connexions in literary anecdotes which arenot immediately perceived by others: in his hands anecdotes, even shouldthey be familiar to us, are susceptible of deductions and inferences, which become novel and important truths. Facts of themselves are barren;it is when these facts pass through reflections, and become interwovenwith our feelings, or our reasonings, that they are the finestillustrations; that they assume the dignity of "philosophy teaching byexample;" that, in the moral world, they are what the wise system ofBacon inculcated in the natural knowledge deduced from experiments; thestudy of nature in her operations. "When examples are pointed out tous, " says Lord Bolingbroke, "there is a kind of appeal, with which, weare flattered, made to our senses, as well as to our understandings. Theinstruction comes then from our authority; we yield to fact, when weresist speculation. "

For this reason, writers and artists should, among their recreations, beforming a constant acquaintance with the history of their departedkindred. In literary biography a man of genius always finds somethingwhich relates to himself. The studies of artists have a greatuniformity, and their habits of life are monotonous. They have all thesame difficulties to encounter, although they do not all meet with thesame glory. How many secrets may the man of genius learn from literaryanecdotes! important secrets, which his friends will not convey to him. He traces the effects of similar studies; warned sometimes by failures, and often animated by watching the incipient and shadowy attempts whichclosed in a great work. From one he learns in what manner he planned andcorrected; from another he may overcome those obstacles which, perhaps, at that very moment make him rise in despair from his own unfinishedlabour. What perhaps he had in vain desired to know for half his life isrevealed to him by a literary anecdote; and thus the amusements ofindolent hours may impart the vigour of study; as we find sometimes inthe fruit we have taken for pleasure the medicine which restores ourhealth. How superficial is that cry of some impertinent pretendedgeniuses of these times who affect to exclaim, "Give me no anecdotes ofan author, but give me his works!" I have often found the anecdotes moreinteresting than the works. 

Dr. Johnson devoted one of his periodical papers to a defence ofanecdotes, and expresses himself thus on certain collectors ofanecdotes: "They are not always so happy as to select the mostimportant. I know not well what advantage posterity can receive from theonly circumstance by which Tickell has distinguished _Addison_ from therest of mankind, --the _irregularity of his pulse_; nor can I thinkmyself overpaid for the time spent in reading the life of _Malherbe_, bybeing enabled to relate, after the learned biographer, that Malherbe hadtwo predominant opinions; one, that the looseness of a single womanmight destroy all her boast of ancient descent; the other, that Frenchbeggars made use, very improperly and barbarously, of the phrase _noblegentlemen_, because either word included the sense of both. "

These just observations may, perhaps, be further illustrated by thefollowing notices. Dr. J. Warton has informed the world that _many ofour poets have been handsome_. This, certainly, neither concerns theworld, nor the class of poets. It is trifling to tell us that Dr. Johnson was accustomed "_to cut his nails to the quick_. " I am not muchgratified by being informed, that Menage wore _a greater number ofstockings_ than any other person, excepting one, whose name I havereally forgotten. The biographer of Cujas, a celebrated lawyer, saysthat _two things_ were _remarkable_ of this _scholar_. The _first_, thathe studied on the floor, lying prostrate on a carpet, with his booksabout him; and, _secondly_, that his perspiration exhaled an agreeablesmell, which he used to inform his friends he had in common withAlexander the Great! This admirable biographer should have told uswhether he frequently turned from his very uneasy attitude. Somebodyinforms us, that Guy Patin resembled Cicero, whose statue is preservedat Rome; on which he enters into a comparison of Patin with Cicero; buta man may resemble a _statue_ of Cicero, and yet not be Cicero. Bailletloads his life of Descartes with a thousand minutiæ, which less disgracethe philosopher than the biographer. Was it worth informing the public, that Descartes was very particular about his wigs; that he had themmanufactured at Paris; and that he always kept four? That he wore greentaffety in France: but that in Holland he quitted taffety for cloth; andthat he was fond of omelets of eggs?

It is an odd observation of Clarendon in his own life, that "Mr. Chillingworth was of a stature little superior to Mr. Hales; and it _wasan age in which there were many great and wonderful men of_ THAT SIZE. "Lord Falkland, formerly Sir Lucius Carey, was of a low stature, andsmaller than most men; and of Sidney Godolphin, "There was never sogreat a mind and spirit contained in so little room; so that LordFalkland used to say merrily, that he thought it was a great ingredientin his friendship for Mr. Godolphin, that he was pleased to be found inhis company where he was the properer man. " This irrelevant observationof Lord Clarendon is an instance where a great mind will sometimes drawinferences from accidental coincidences, and establish them into ageneral principle; as if the small size of the men had even the remotestconnexion with their genius and their virtues. Perhaps, too, there wasin this a tincture of the superstitions of the times: whatever it was, the fact ought not to have degraded the truth and dignity of historicalnarrative. We have writers who cannot discover the particulars whichcharacterise THE MAN--their souls, like damp gunpowder, cannot ignitewith the spark when it falls on them. 

Yet of anecdotes which appear trifling, something may be alleged intheir defence. It is certainly safer for _some_ writers to give us allthey know, than to try their discernment for rejection. Let us sometimesrecollect, that the page over which we toil will probably furnishmaterials for authors of happier talents. I would rather have a Birch, or a Hawkins, appear heavy, cold, and prolix, than that anythingmaterial which concerns a Tillotson, or a Johnson, should be lost. Itmust also be confessed, that an anecdote, or a circumstance, which mayappear inconsequential to a reader, may bear some remote or latentconnexion: a biographer who has long contemplated the character herecords, sees many connexions which escape an ordinary reader. Kippis, in closing the life of the diligent Dr. Birch, has, from his ownexperience, no doubt, formed an apology for that minute research, whichsome have thought this writer carried to excess. "It may be alleged inour author's favour, that a man who has a deep and extensiveacquaintance with a subject, often sees a connexion and importance insome smaller circumstances, which may not immediately be discerned byothers; and, on that account, may have reasons for inserting them, thatwill escape the notice of superficial minds. "

CONDEMNED POETS. 

I flatter myself that those readers who have taken any interest in myvolume have not conceived me to have been deficient in the elevatedfeeling which, from early life, I have preserved for the great literarycharacter: if time weaken our enthusiasm, it is the coldness of agewhich creeps on us, but the principle is unalterable which inspired thesympathy. Who will not venerate those master-spirits "whose PUBLISHEDLABOURS advance the good of mankind, " and those BOOKS which are "theprecious life-blood of a master-spirit, imbalmed and treasured up onpurpose to a life beyond life?" But it has happened that I have morethan once incurred the censure of the inconsiderate and the tasteless, for attempting to separate those writers who exist in a state ofperpetual illusion; who live on querulously, which is an evil forthemselves, and to no purpose of life, which is an evil to others. Ihave been blamed for exemplifying "the illusions of writers inverse, "[168] by the remarkable case of Percival Stockdale, [169] who, after a condemned silence of nearly half a century, like a vivaciousspectre throwing aside his shroud in gaiety, came forward, a venerableman in his eightieth year, to assure us of the immortality of one of theworst poets of his age; and for this wrote his own memoirs, which onlyproved, that when authors are troubled with a literary hallucination, and possess the unhappy talent of reasoning in their madness, a littleraillery, if it cannot cure, may serve at least as a salutary regimen. 

I shall illustrate the case of condemned authors who will still bepleading after their trials, by a foreign dramatic writer. Among thoseincorrigible murmurers at public justice, not the least extraordinarywas a M. Peyraud de Beaussol, who, in 1775, had a tragedy, _LesArsacides_, in six acts, printed, "not as it was acted, " as Fieldingsays on the title-page of one of his comedies, but "as it was damned!"

In a preface, this _Sir Fretful_, more inimitable than that original, with all the gravity of an historical narrative, details the publicconspiracy; and with all the pathetic touches of a shipwrecked mariner, the agonies of his literary egotism. 

He declares that it is absurd to condemn a piece which they can onlyknow by the title, for heard it had never been! And yet he observes, with infinite _naïveté_, "My piece is as generally condemned as if theworld had it all by heart. "

One of the great objections against this tragedy was its monstrous planof six acts; this innovation did not lean towards improvement in theminds of those who had endured the long sufferings of tragedies of theaccepted size. But the author offers some solemn reasons to induce us tobelieve that six acts were so far from being too many, that the piecehad been more perfect with a seventh! M. De Beaussol had, perhaps, beenhappy to have known, that other dramatists have considered that theusual restrictions are detrimental to a grand genius. Nat. Lee, when inBedlam, wrote a play in twenty-five acts. 

Our philosophical dramatist, from the constituent principles of thehuman mind, and the physical powers of man, and the French nation moreparticularly, deduces the origin of the sublime, and the faculty ofattention. The plan of his tragedy is agreeable to these principles:Monarchs, Queens, and Rivals, and every class of men; it is thereforegrand! and the acts can be listened to, and therefore it is not toolong! It was the high opinion that he had formed of human nature and theFrench people, which at once terrified and excited him to finish atragedy, which, he modestly adds, "may not have the merit of any singleone; but which one day will be discovered to include the labour bestowedon fifty!"

No great work was ever produced without a grand plan. "Some critics, "says our author, "have ventured to assert that my six acts may easily bereduced to the usual five, without injury to the conduct of the fable. "To reply to this required a complete analysis of the tragedy, which, having been found more voluminous than the tragedy itself, heconsiderately "published separately. " It would be curious to ascertainwhether a single copy of the analysis of a condemned tragedy was eversold. And yet this critical analysis was such an admirable anddemonstrative criticism, that the author assures us that it proved theabsolute impossibility, "and the most absolute too, " that his piececould not suffer the slightest curtailment. It demonstrated more--thatthe gradation and the development of interest required necessarily_seven acts!_ but, from dread of carrying this innovation too far, theauthor omitted _one act_, which passed behind the scenes![170] but whichought to have come in between the fifth and sixth! Another point isproved, that the attention of an audience, the physical powers of man, can be kept up with interest much longer than has been calculated; thathis piece only takes up two hours and three quarters, or three hours atmost, if some of the most impassioned parts were but declaimedrapidly. [171]

Now we come to the history of all the disasters which happened at theacting of this tragedy. "How can people complain that my piece istedious, when, after the first act, they would never listen ten minutesto it? Why did they attend to the first scenes, and even applaud one?Let me not be told, because these were sublime, and commanded therespect of the cabal raised against it; because there are other scenesfar more sublime in the piece, which they perpetually interrupted. Willit be believed, that they pitched upon the scene of the sacrifice ofVolgesie, as one of the most tedious?--the scene of Volgesie, which isthe finest in my piece; not a verse, not a word in it, can beomitted![172] Everything tends towards the catastrophe; and it reads inthe closet as well as it would affect us on the stage. I was not, however, astonished at this; what men hear, and do not understand, isalways tedious; and it was recited in so shocking a tone by the actress, who, not having entirely recovered from a fit of illness, was flurriedby the tumult of the audience. She declaimed in a twanging tone likepsalm-singing; so that the audience could not hear, among the fatiguingdiscordances (he means their own hissing), nor separate the thoughts andwords from the full chant which accompanied them. They objectedperpetually to the use of the word _Madame_ between two female rivals, as too comic; one of the pit, when an actress said _Madame_, cried out'Say _Princesse!_' This disconcerted the actress. They also objected tothe words _àpropos_ and _mal-àpropos_. Yet, after all, how are there toomany _Madames_ in the piece, since they do not amount to forty-six inthe course of forty-four scenes? Of these, however, I have erased half. "

This historian of his own wrong-headedness proceeds, with all thesimplicity of this narrative, to describe the hubbub. 

"Thus it was impossible to connect what they were hearing with what theyhad heard. In the short intervals of silence, the actors, who, duringthe tumult, forgot their characters, tried with difficulty to recovertheir conception. The conspirators were prepared to a man; not only intheir head, but some with written notes had their watchwords, to settheir party a-going. They seemed to act with the most extraordinaryconcert; they seemed to know the exact moment when they were to give theword, and drown, in their hurly-burly, the voice of the actor, who had apassionate part to declaim, and thus break the connexion between thespeakers. All this produced so complete an effect, that it seemed as ifthe actors themselves had been of the conspiracy, so wilful and soactive was the execution of the plot. It was particularly during thefifth and sixth acts that the cabal was most outrageous; they knew thesewere the most beautiful, and deserved particular attention. Such ahumming arose, that the actors seemed to have had their heads turned;some lost their voice, some declaimed at random, the prompter in vaincried out, nothing was heard, and everything was said; the actor, whocould not hear the catch-word, remained disconcerted and silent; thewhole was broken, wrong and right; it was all Hebrew. Nor was this all;the actors behind the scene were terrified, and they either cameforwards trembling, and only watching the signs of their brother actors, or would not venture to show themselves. The machinist only, with hisscene-shifters, who felt so deep an interest in the fate of my piece, was tranquil and attentive to his duty, to produce a fine effect. Afterthe hurly-burly was over, he left the actors mute with their armscrossed. He opened the scenery! and not an actor could enter on it! Thepit, more clamorous than ever, would not suffer the denouement! Such wasthe conduct, and such the intrepidity, of the army employed to besiegethe _Arsacides_! Such was the cause of that accusation of tediousnessmade against a drama, which has most evidently the contrary defect!"

Such is the history of a damned dramatist, written by himself, with atruth and simplicity worthy of a happier fate. It is admirable to see aman, who was himself so deeply involved in the event, preserve theobserving calmness which could discover the minutest occurrence; and, allowing for his particular conception of the cause, detailing them withthe most rigid veracity. This author was unquestionably a man of themost honourable probity, and not destitute of intellectual ability; buthe must serve as an useful example of that wrong-headed nature in somemen, which has produced so many "Abbots of Unreason" in society, whom itis in vain to convince by a reciprocation of arguments; who assumingfalse principles, act rightly according to themselves; a sort ofrational lunacy, which, when it discovers itself in politics andreligion, and in the more common affairs of life, has produced the mostunhappy effects; but this fanaticism, when confined to poetry, onlyamuses us with the ludicrous; and, in the persons of Monsieur deBeaussol, and of Percival Stockdale, may offer some very fortunateself-recollections in that "Calamity of Authors" which I have called"The Illusions of Writers in Verse. "

ACAJOU AND ZIRPHILE. 

As a literary curiosity, and as a supplemental anecdote to the articleof PREFACES, [173] I cannot pass over the suppressed preface to the"Acajou et Zirphile" of Du Clos, which of itself is almost a singularinstance of hardy ingenuity, in an address to the public. 

This single volume is one of the most whimsical of fairy tales, and anamusing satire originating in an odd circumstance. Count Tessin, theSwedish Ambassador at the Court of France, had a number of grotesquedesigns made by Boucher, the king's painter, and engraved by the firstartists. The last plate had just been finished when the Count wasrecalled, and appointed Prime Minister and Governor to the Crown Prince, a place he filled with great honour; and in emulation of Fenelon, composed letters on the education of a Prince, which have beentranslated. He left behind him in France all the plates in the hands ofBoucher, who, having shown them to Du Clos for their singular invention, regretted that he had bestowed so much fancy on a fairy tale, which wasnot to be had; Du Clos, to relieve his regrets, offered to invent atale to correspond with these grotesque subjects. This seemed not alittle difficult. In the first plate, the author appears in hismorning-gown, writing in his study, surrounded by apes, rats, butterflies, and smoke. In another, a Prince is drest in the Frenchcostume of 1740, strolling full of thought "in the shady walk of ideas. "In a third plate, the Prince is conversing with a fairy who rises out ofa gooseberry which he has plucked: two dwarfs, discovered in anothergooseberry, give a sharp fillip to the Prince, who seems muchembarrassed by their tiny maliciousness. In another walk he eats anapricot, which opens with the most beautiful of faces, a littlemelancholy, and leaning on one side. In another print, he finds the bodyof his lovely face and the hands, and he adroitly joins them together. Such was the set of these incomprehensible and capricious inventions, which the lighter fancy and ingenuity of Du Clos converted into a fairystory, full of pleasantry and satire. [174]

Among the novelties of this small volume, not the least remarkable isthe dedication of this fairy romance to the public, which excited greatattention, and charmed and provoked our author's fickle patron. Du Closhere openly ridicules, and dares his protector and his judge. Thishazardous attack was successful, and the author soon acquired thereputation which he afterwards maintained, of being a writer who littlerespected the common prejudices of the world. Freron replied by a longcriticism, entitled "Réponse du Public à l'Auteur d'Acajou;" but itsseverity was not discovered in its length; so that the public, who hadbeen so keenly ridiculed, and so hardily braved in the light andsparkling page of the haughty Du Clos, preferred the caustic truths andthe pleasant insult. 

In this "Epistle to the Public, " the author informs us that, "excited byexample, and encouraged by the success he had often witnessed, hedesigned to write a piece of nonsense. He was only embarrassed by thechoice of subject. Politics, Morals, and Literature, were equally thesame to me: but I found, strange to say, all these matters pre-occupiedby persons who seem to have laboured with the same view. I found sillythings in all kinds, and I saw myself under the necessity of adoptingthe reasonable ones to become singular; so that I do not yet despairthat we may one day discover truth, when we shall have exhausted allour errors. 

"I first proposed to write down all erudition, to show the freedom andindependence of genius, whose fertility is such as not to requireborrowing anything from foreign sources; but I observed that this hadsunk into a mere commonplace, trite and trivial, invented by indolence, adopted by ignorance, and which adds nothing to genius, "Mathematics, which has succeeded to erudition, begins to beunfashionable; we know at present indeed that one may be as great adizzard in resolving a problem as in restoring a reading. Everything iscompatible with genius, but nothing can give it. 

"For the _bel esprit_, so much envied, so much sought after, it isalmost as ridiculous to pretend to it, as it is difficult to attain. Thus the scholar is contemned, the mathematician tires, the man of witand genius is hissed. What is to be done?"

Having told the whimsical origin of this tale, Du Clos continues: "I donot know, my dear Public, if you will approve of my design; however, itappears to me ridiculous enough to deserve your favour; for, to speak toyou like a friend, you appear to unite all the stages of human life, only to experience all their cross-accidents. You are a child to runafter trifles; a youth when driven by your passions; and, in mature age, you conclude you are wise, because your follies are of a more solemnnature, for you grow old only to dote; to talk at random, to act withoutdesign, and to believe you judge, because you pronounce sentence. 

"I respect you greatly; I esteem you but little; you are not worthy ofbeing loved. These are my sentiments respecting you; if you insist onothers from me, in that case, "I am, "Your most humble and obedient servant. "

The caustic pleasantry of this "Epistle Dedicatory" was considered bysome mawkish critics so offensive, that when the editor of the "Cabinetde Fées, " a vast collection of fairy tales, republished this littleplayful satire and whimsical fancy-piece, he thought proper to cancelthe "Epistle:" concluding that it was entirely wanting in that respectwith which the public ought to be addressed! This editor, of course, wasa Frenchman: we view him in the ridiculous attitude of making hisprofound bow, and expressing all this "high consideration" for this same"Public, " while, with his opera-hat in his hand, he is sweeping away themost poignant and delectable page of Acajou and Zirphile. 

TOM O' BEDLAMS. 

The history of a race of singular mendicants, known by the name of _Tomo' Bedlams_, connects itself with that of our poetry. Not only will theylive with our language, since Shakspeare has perpetuated theirexistence, but they themselves appear to have been the occasion ofcreating a species of wild fantastic poetry, peculiar to our nation. 

Bethlehem Hospital formed, in its original institution, a contracted andpenurious charity;[175] its governors soon discovered that themetropolis furnished them with more lunatics than they had calculatedon; they also required from the friends of the patients a weeklystipend, besides clothing. It is a melancholy fact to record in thehistory of human nature, that when one of their original regulationsprescribed that persons who put in patients should provide theirclothes, it was soon observed that the poor lunatics were frequentlyperishing by the omission of this slight duty from those former friends;so soon forgotten were they whom none found an interest to recollect. They were obliged to open contributions to provide a wardrobe. [176]

In consequence of the limited resources of the Hospital, they relievedthe establishment by frequently discharging patients whose cure might bevery equivocal. Harmless lunatics thrown thus into the world, oftenwithout a single friend, wandered about the country, chanting wildditties, and wearing a fantastical dress to attract the notice of thecharitable, on whose alms they lived. They had a kind of _costume_, which I find described by Randle Holme in a curious and extraordinarywork. [177]

"The Bedlam has a long staff, and a cow or ox-horn by his side; hisclothing fantastic and ridiculous; for being a madman, he is madlydecked and dressed all over with rubins (ribands), feathers, cuttings ofcloth, and what not, to make him seem a madman, or one distracted, whenhe is no other than a wandering and dissembling knave. " This writer herepoints out one of the grievances resulting from licensing even harmlesslunatics to roam about the country; for a set of pretended madmen, called "Abram men, " a cant term for certain sturdy rogues, concealedthemselves in their _costume_, covered the country, and pleaded theprivileged denomination when detected in their depredations. [178]

Sir Walter Scott first obligingly suggested to me that these rovinglunatics were out-door pensioners of Bedlam, sent about to live as wellas they could with the pittance granted by the hospital. 

The fullest account that I have obtained of these singular persons isdrawn from a manuscript note transcribed from some of Aubrey's papers, which I have not seen printed. 

"Till the breaking out of the civil wars, _Tom o' Bedlams_ did travelabout the country; they had been poor distracted men, that had been putinto Bedlam, where recovering some soberness, they were licentiated togo a begging; _i. E. _, they had on their left arm an armilla, an ironring for the arm, about four inches long, as printed in some works. [179]They could not get it off; they wore about their necks a great horn ofan ox in a string or bawdry, which, when they came to a house, they didwind, and they put the drink given to them into this horn, whereto theyput a stopple. Since the wars I do not remember to have seen any one ofthem. " The civil wars, probably, cleared the country of all sorts ofvagabonds; but among the royalists or the parliamentarians, we did notknow that in their rank and file they had so many Tom o' Bedlams. 

I have now to explain something in the character of Edgar in _Lear_, onwhich the commentators seem to have ingeniously blundered, from animperfect knowledge of the character which Edgar personates. 

Edgar, in wandering about the country, for a safe disguise assumes thecharacter of these _Tom o' Bedlams_; he thus closes one of hisdistracted speeches--"Poor Tom, _Thy horn is dry_!" On this Johnson iscontent to inform us, that "men that begged under pretence of lunacyused formerly to carry a horn and blow it through the streets. " This isno explanation of Edgar's allusion to the _dryness_ of his horn. Steevens adds a fanciful note, that Edgar alludes to a proverbialexpression, _Thy horn is dry_, designed to express that a man had saidall he could say; and, further, Steevens supposes that Edgar speaksthese words _aside_; as if he had been quite weary of _Tom o' Bedlam'spart_, and could not keep it up any longer. The reasons of all thisconjectural criticism are a curious illustration of perverse ingenuity. Aubrey's manuscript note has shown us that the Bedlam's horn was also a_drinking-horn_, and Edgar closes his speech in the perfection of theassumed character, and not as one who had grown weary of it, by makingthe mendicant lunatic desirous of departing from a heath, to march, ashe cries, "to wakes, and fairs, and market-towns--Poor Tom! thy horn isdry!" as more likely places to solicit alms; and he is thinking of his_drink-money_, when he cries that "_his horn is dry_. "

An itinerant lunatic, chanting wild ditties, fancifully attired, gaywith the simplicity of childhood, yet often moaning with the sorrows ofa troubled man, a mixture of character at once grotesque and plaintive, became an interesting object to poetical minds. It is probable that thecharacter of Edgar, in the _Lear_ of Shakspeare, first introduced thehazardous conception into the poetical world. Poems composed in thecharacter of a Tom o' Bedlam appear to have formed a fashionable classof poetry among the wits; they seem to have held together their poeticalcontests, and some of these writers became celebrated for theirsuccessful efforts, for old Izaak Walton mentions a "Mr. William Basse, as one who has made the choice songs of 'The Hunter in his career, ' andof 'Tom o' Bedlam, ' and many others of note. " Bishop Percy, in his"Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, " has preserved six of what he calls"Mad Songs, " expressing his surprise that the English should have "moresongs and ballads on the subject of madness than any of theirneighbours, " for such are not found in the collection of songs of theFrench, Italian, &c. , and nearly insinuates, for their cause, that weare perhaps more liable to the calamity of madness than other nations. This superfluous criticism had been spared had that elegant collectorbeen aware of the circumstance which had produced this class of poems, and recollected the more ancient original in the Edgar of Shakspeare. Some of the "Mad Songs" which the bishop has preserved are of too moderna date to suit the title of his work; being written by Tom D'Urfey, forhis comedies of Don Quixote. I shall preserve one of more ancient date, fraught with all the wild spirit of this peculiar character. [180]

This poem must not be read without a continued reference to thepersonated character. Delirious and fantastic, strokes of sublimeimagination are mixed with familiar comic humour, and even degraded bythe cant language; for the gipsy habits of life of these "Tom o'Bedlams" had confounded them with "the progging Abram men. "[181] Theseluckless beings are described by Decker as sometimes exceeding merry, and could do nothing but sing songs fashioned out of their own brains;now they danced, now they would do nothing but laugh and weep, or weredogged and sullen both in look and speech. All they did, all they sung, was alike unconnected; indicative of the desultory and rambling wits ofthe chanter. 

 A TOM-A-BEDLAM SONG. 

 From the hag and hungry goblin That into rags would rend ye, All the spirits that stand By the naked man, In the book of moons defend ye! That of your five sound senses You never be forsaken; Nor travel from Yourselves with Tom Abroad, to beg your bacon. 

 CHORUS. 

 Nor never sing any food and feeding, Money, drink, or clothing; Come dame or maid, Be not afraid, For Tom will injure nothing. 

 Of thirty bare years have I Twice twenty been enraged; And of forty been Three times fifteen In durance soundly caged. In the lovely lofts of Bedlam, In stubble soft and dainty, Brave bracelets strong, Sweet whips ding, dong, And a wholesome hunger plenty. 

 With a thought I took for Maudlin, And a cruse of cockle pottage, And a thing thus--tall, Sky bless you all, I fell into this dotage. I slept not till the Conquest; Till then I never waked; Till the roguish boy Of love where I lay, Me found, and stript me naked. 

 When short I have shorn my sow's face, And swigg'd my horned barrel; In an oaken inn Do I pawn my skin, As a suit of gilt apparel. The morn's my constant mistress, And the lovely owl my morrow; The flaming drake, And the night-crow, make Me music, to my sorrow. 

 The palsie plague these pounces, When I prig your pigs or pullen; Your culvers take Or mateless make Your chanticleer and sullen; When I want provant with _Humphrey_ I sup, And when benighted, To repose in Paul's, With waking souls I never am affrighted. 

 I know more than Apollo; For, oft when he lies sleeping, I behold the stars At mortal wars, And the rounded welkin weeping. The moon embraces her shepherd, And the Queen of Love her warrior; While the first does horn The stars of the morn, And the next the heavenly farrier. 

 With a heart of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander: With a burning spear, And a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander; With a knight of ghosts and shadows, I summoned am to Tourney: Ten leagues beyond The wide world's end; Methinks it is no journey!

The last stanza of this Bedlam song contains the seeds of exquisiteromance; a stanza worth many an admired poem. 

INTRODUCTION OF TEA, COFFEE, AND CHOCOLATE. 

It is said that the frozen Norwegians, on the first sight of roses, dared not touch what they conceived were trees budding with fire: andthe natives of Virginia, the first time they seized on a quantity ofgunpowder, which belonged to the English colony, sowed it for grain, expecting to reap a plentiful crop of combustion by the next harvest, toblow away the whole colony. 

In our own recollection, strange imaginations impeded the first periodof vaccination; when some families, terrified by the warning of aphysician, conceived their race would end in a species of Minotaurs--

 Semibovemque virum, semivirumque bovem. 

We smile at the simplicity of the men of nature, for their mistakennotions at the first introduction among them of exotic novelties; andyet, even in civilised Europe, how long a time those whose profession orwhose reputation regulates public opinion are influenced by vulgarprejudices, often disguised under the imposing form of science! and whentheir ludicrous absurdities and obstinate prejudices enter into thematters of history, it is then we discover that they were only imposingon themselves and on others. 

It is hardly credible that on the first introduction of the Chineseleaf, which now affords our daily refreshment; or the American leaf, whose sedative fumes made it so long an universal favourite; or theArabian berry, whose aroma exhilarates its European votaries; that theuse of these harmless novelties should have spread consternation amongthe nations of Europe, and have been anathematised by the terrors andthe fictions of some of the learned. Yet this seems to have happened. Patin, who wrote so furiously against the introduction of antimony, spread the same alarm at the use of tea, which he calls "l'impertinentenouveauté du siècle. " In Germany, Hanneman considered tea-dealers asimmoral members of society, lying in wait for men's purses and lives;and Dr. Duncan, in his Treatise on Hot Liquors, suspected that thevirtues attributed to tea were merely to encourage the importation. [182]

Many virulent pamphlets were published against the use of this shrub, from various motives. In 1670, a Dutch writer says it was ridiculed inHolland under the name of hay-water. "The progress of this famousplant, " says an ingenious writer, "has been something like the progressof truth; suspected at first, though very palatable to those who hadcourage to taste it; resisted as it encroached; abused as its popularityseemed to spread; and establishing its triumph at last, in cheering thewhole land from the palace to the cottage, only by the slow andresistless efforts of time and its own virtues. "[183]

The history of the Tea-shrub, by Dr. Lettsom, usually referred to onthis subject, I consider little more than a plagiarism on Dr. Short'slearned and curious dissertation on Tea, 1730, 4to. Lettsom hassuperadded the solemn trifling of his moral and medical advice. 

These now common beverages are all of recent origin in Europe; neitherthe ancients nor those of the middle ages tasted of this luxury. Thefirst accounts we find of the use of this shrub are the casual noticesof travellers, who seem to have tasted it, and sometimes not to haveliked it: a Russian ambassador, in 1639, who resided at the court of theMogul, declined accepting a large present of tea for the Czar, "as itwould only encumber him with a commodity for which he had no use. " Theappearance of "a black water" and an acrid taste seems not to haverecommended it to the German Olearius in 1633. Dr. Short has recordedan anecdote of a stratagem of the Dutch in their second voyage to China, by which they at first obtained their tea without disbursing money; theycarried from home great store of dried sage, and bartered it with theChinese for tea, and received three or four pounds of tea for one ofsage: but at length the Dutch could not export sufficient quantities ofsage to supply their demand. This fact, however, proves how deeply theimagination is concerned with our palate; for the Chinese, affected bythe exotic novelty, considered our sage to be more precious than theirtea. 

The first introduction of tea into Europe is not ascertained; accordingto the common accounts it came into England from Holland, in 1666, whenLord Arlington and Lord Ossory brought over a small quantity: the customof drinking tea became fashionable, and a pound weight sold then forsixty shillings. This account, however, is by no means satisfactory. Ihave heard of Oliver Cromwell's tea-pot in the possession of acollector, and this will derange the chronology of those writers who areperpetually copying the researches of others, without confirming orcorrecting them. [184]

Amidst the rival contests of the Dutch and the English East IndiaCompanies, the honour of introducing its use into Europe may be claimedby both. Dr. Short conjectures that tea might have been known in Englandas far back as the reign of James the First, for the first fleet set outin 1600; but had the use of the shrub been known, the novelty had beenchronicled among our dramatic writers, whose works are the annals of ourprevalent tastes and humours. It is rather extraordinary that our EastIndia Company should not have discovered the use of this shrub in theirearly adventures; yet it certainly was not known in England so late asin 1641, for in a scarce "Treatise of Warm Beer, " where the titleindicates the author's design to recommend hot in preference to colddrinks, he refers to tea only by quoting the Jesuit Maffei's account, that "they of China do for the most part drink the strained liquor of anherb called _Chia_ hot. " The word _Cha_ is the Portuguese term for tearetained to this day, which they borrowed from the Japanese; while ourintercourse with the Chinese made us no doubt adopt their term _Theh_, now prevalent throughout Europe, with the exception of the Portuguese. The Chinese origin is still preserved in the term _Bohea_, tea whichcomes from the country of _Vouhi_; and that of _Hyson_ was the name ofthe most considerable Chinese then concerned in the trade. 

The best account of the early use, and the prices of tea in England, appears in the handbill of one who may be called our first _Tea-maker_. This curious handbill bears no date, but as Hanway ascertained that theprice was sixty shillings in 1660, his bill must have been dispersedabout that period. 

Thomas Garway, in Exchange-alley, tobacconist and coffee-man, was thefirst who sold and retailed tea, recommending it for the cure of alldisorders. The following shop-bill is more curious than any historicalaccount we have. 

"Tea in England hath been sold in the leaf for six pounds, and sometimesfor ten pounds the pound weight, and in respect of its former scarcenessand dearness it has been only used as a regalia in high treatments andentertainments, and presents made thereof to princes and grandees tillthe year 1657. The said Garway did purchase a quantity thereof, andfirst publicly sold the said tea in _leaf_ or _drink_, made according tothe directions of the most knowing merchants into those Easterncountries. On the knowledge of the said Garway's continued care andindustry in obtaining the best tea, and making drink thereof, very manynoblemen, physicians, merchants, &c. , have ever since sent to him forthe said leaf, and daily resort to his house to drink the drink thereof. He sells tea from 16s. To 50s. A pound. "

Probably, tea was not in general use domestically so late as in 1687;for in the diary of Henry, Earl of Clarendon, he registers that "PèreCouplet supped with me, and after supper we had tea, which he said wasreally as good as any he had drank in China. " Had his lordship been inthe general habit of drinking tea, he had not probably made it a subjectfor his diary. 

While the honour of introducing tea may be disputed between the Englishand the Dutch, that of coffee remains between the English and theFrench. Yet an Italian intended to have occupied the place of honour:that admirable traveller Pietro della Valle, writing fromConstantinople, 1615, to a Roman, his fellow-countryman, informing himthat he should teach Europe in what manner the Turks took what he calls"_Cahué_, " or as the word is written in an Arabic and English pamphlet, printed at Oxford, in 1659, on "the nature of the drink _Kauhi_ orCoffee. " As this celebrated traveller lived to 1652, it may excitesurprise that the first cup of coffee was not drank at Rome; thisremains for the discovery of some member of the "Arcadian Society. " Ourown Sandys, at the time that Valle wrote, was also "a traveller, " andwell knew what was "_Coffa_, " which "they drank as hot as they canendure it; it is as black as soot, and tastes not much unlike it; goodthey say for digestion and mirth. "

It appears by Le Grand's "Vie privée des François, " that the celebratedThevenot, in 1658, gave coffee after dinner; but it was considered asthe whim of a traveller; neither the thing itself, nor its appearance, was inviting: it was probably attributed by the gay to the humour of avain philosophical traveller. But ten years afterwards a Turkishambassador at Paris made the beverage highly fashionable. The eleganceof the equipage recommended it to the eye, and charmed the women: thebrilliant porcelain cups in which it was poured; the napkins fringedwith gold, and the Turkish slaves on their knees presenting it to theladies, seated on the ground on cushions, turned the heads of theParisian dames. This elegant introduction made the exotic beverage asubject of conversation, and in 1672, an Armenian at Paris at thefair-time opened a coffee-house. But the custom still prevailed to sellbeer and wine, and to smoke and mix with indifferent company in theirfirst imperfect coffee-houses. A Florentine, one Procope, celebrated inhis day as the arbiter of taste in this department, instructed by theerror of the Armenian, invented a superior establishment, and introducedices; he embellished his apartment, and those who had avoided theoffensive coffee-houses repaired to Procope's; where literary men, artists, and wits resorted, to inhale the fresh and fragrant steam. LeGrand says that this establishment holds a distinguished place in theliterary history of the times. It was at the coffee-house of Du Laurentthat Saurin, La Motte, Danchet, Boindin, Rousseau, &c. , met; but themild streams of the aromatic berry could not mollify the acerbity of somany rivals, and the witty malignity of Rousseau gave birth to thosefamous couplets on all the coffee drinkers, which occasioned hismisfortune and his banishment. 

Such is the history of the first use of coffee and its houses at Paris. We, however, had the use before even the time of Thevenot; for anEnglish Turkish merchant brought a Greek servant in 1652, who, knowinghow to roast and make it, opened a house to sell it publicly. I havealso discovered his hand-bill, in which he sets forth, "The vertue ofthe coffee-drink, first publiquely made and sold in England, by PasquaRosee, in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, at the sign of his ownhead. "[185]

For about twenty years after the introduction of coffee in this kingdom, we find a continued series of invectives against its adoption, both formedicinal and domestic purposes. The use of coffee, indeed, seems tohave excited more notice, and to have had a greater influence on themanners of the people, than that of tea. It seems at first to have beenmore universally used, as it still is on the Continent; and its use isconnected with a resort for the idle and the curious: the history ofcoffee-houses, ere the invention of clubs, was that of the manners, themorals, and the politics of a people. Even in its native country, thegovernment discovered that extraordinary fact, and the use of theArabian berry was more than once forbidden where it grows; for Ellis, inhis "History of Coffee, " 1774, refers to an Arabian MS. , in the King ofFrance's library, which shows that coffee-houses in Asia were sometimessuppressed. The same fate happened on its introduction into England. 

Among a number of poetical satires against the use of coffee, I find acurious exhibition, according to the exaggerated notions of that day, in"A Cup of Coffee, or Coffee in its Colours, " 1663. The writer, likeothers of his contemporaries, wonders at the odd taste which could makeCoffee a substitute for Canary. 

 For men and Christians to turn Turks and think To excuse the crime, because 'tis in their drink! Pure English apes! ye may, for aught I know, Would it but mode--learn to eat spiders too. [186] Should any of your grandsires' ghosts appear In your wax-candle circles, and but hear The name of coffee so much called upon, Then see it drank like scalding Phlegethon; Would they not startle, think ye, all agreed 'Twas conjuration both in word and deed? Or Catiline's conspirators, as they stood Sealing their oaths in draughts of blackest blood, The merriest ghost of all your sires would say, Your wine's much worse since his last yesterday. He'd wonder how the club had given a hop O'er tavern-bars into a farrier's shop, Where he'd suppose, both by the smoke and stench, Each man a horse, and each horse at his drench. -- Sure you're no poets, nor their friends, for now, Should Jonson's strenuous spirit, or the rare Beaumont and Fletcher's, in your round appear, They would not find the air perfumed with one Castalian drop, nor dew of Helicon; When they but men would speak as the gods do, They drank pure nectar as the gods drink too, Sublim'd with rich Canary--say, shall then These less than coffee's self, these coffee-men; These sons of nothing, that can hardly make Their broth, for laughing how the jest does take, Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure blood A loathsome potion, not yet understood, Syrop of soot, or essence of old shoes, Dasht with diurnals and the books of news?

Other complaints arose from the mixture of the company in the firstcoffee-houses. In "A Broadside against Coffee, or the Marriage of theTurk, " 1672, the writer indicates the growth of the fashion:--

 Confusion huddles all into one scene, Like Noah's ark, the clean and the unclean; For now, alas! the drench has credit got, And he's no gentleman who drinks it not. That such a dwarf should rise to such a stature! But custom is but a remove from nature. 

In "The Women's Petition against Coffee, " 1674, they complained that"it made men as unfruitful as the deserts whence that unhappy berry issaid to be brought; that the offspring of our mighty ancestors woulddwindle into a succession of apes and pigmies; and on a domesticmessage, a husband would stop by the way to drink a couple of cups ofcoffee. " It was now sold in convenient penny-worths; for in another poemin praise of a coffee-house, for the variety of information obtainedthere, it is called "a penny university. "

Amidst these contests of popular prejudices, between the lovers offorsaken Canary, and the terrors of our females at the barrenness of anArabian desert, which lasted for twenty years, at length the custom wasuniversally established; nor were there wanting some reflecting mindsdesirous of introducing the use of this liquid among the labouringclasses of society, to wean them from strong liquors. Howell, innoticing that curious philosophical traveller, Sir Henry Blount's"Organon Salutis, " 1659, observed that "this coffa-drink hath caused agreat sobriety among all nations: formerly apprentices, clerks, &c. , used to take their morning draughts in ale, beer, or wine, which oftenmade them unfit for business. Now they play the good-fellows in thiswakeful and civil drink. The worthy gentleman, Sir James Muddiford, whointroduced the practice hereof first in London, deserves much respect ofthe whole nation. " Here it appears, what is most probable, that the useof this berry was introduced by other Turkish merchants, besides Edwardsand his servant Pasqua. But the custom of drinking coffee among thelabouring classes does not appear to have lasted; and when it wasrecently even the cheapest beverage, the popular prejudices prevailedagainst it, and ran in favour of tea. The contrary practice prevails onthe continent, where beggars are viewed making their coffee in thestreet. I remember seeing the large body of shipwrights at Helvoetsluyssummoned by a bell, to take their regular refreshment of coffee; and thefleets of Holland were not then built by arms less robust than thefleets of Britain. 

The frequenting of coffee-houses is a custom which has declined withinour recollection, since institutions of a higher character, and societyitself, have so much improved within late years. These were, however, the common assemblies of all classes of society. The mercantile man, theman of letters, and the man of fashion, had their appropriatecoffee-houses. The Tatler dates from either to convey a character ofhis subject. In the reign of Charles the Second, 1675, a proclamationfor some time shut them all up, having become the rendezvous of thepoliticians of that day. Roger North has given, in his Examen, a fullaccount of this bold stroke: it was not done without some apparentrespect to the British constitution, the court affecting not to actagainst law, for the judges were summoned to a consultation, when, itseems, the five who met did not agree in opinion. But a decision wascontrived that "the retailing of coffee and tea might be an innocenttrade; but as it was said to nourish sedition, spread lies, andscandalise great men, it might also be a common nuisance. " A generaldiscontent, in consequence, as North acknowledges, took place, andemboldened the merchants and retailers of coffee and tea to petition;and permission was soon granted to open the houses to a certain period, under a severe admonition, that the masters should prevent allscandalous papers, books, and libels from being read in them; and hinderevery person from spreading scandalous reports against the government. It must be confessed, all this must have frequently puzzled thecoffee-house master to decide what was scandalous, what book was fit tobe licensed to be read, and what political intelligence might be allowedto be communicated. The object of the government was, probably, tointimidate, rather than to persecute, at that moment. 

Chocolate the Spaniards brought from Mexico, where it was denominated_Chocolati_; it was a coarse mixture of ground cacao and Indian cornwith rocou; but the Spaniards, liking its nourishment, improved it intoa richer compound, with sugar, vanilla, and other aromatics. Theimmoderate use of chocolate in the seventeenth century was considered asso violent an inflamer of the passions, that Joan. Fran. Rauch publisheda treatise against it, and enforced the necessity of forbidding the_monks_ to drink it; and adds, that if such an interdiction had existed, that scandal with which that holy order had been branded might haveproved more groundless. This _Disputatio medico-diætetica de aëre etesculentis, necnon de potû_, Vienna, 1624, is a _rara avis_ amongcollectors. This attack on the monks, as well as on chocolate, is saidto be the cause of its scarcity; for we are told that they were sodiligent in suppressing this treatise, that it is supposed not a dozencopies exist. We had chocolate-houses in London long aftercoffee-houses; they seemed to have associated something more elegantand refined in their new term when the other had become common. [187]Roger North thus inveighs against them: "The use of coffee-houses seemsmuch improved by a new invention, called chocolate-houses, for thebenefit of rooks and cullies of quality, where gaming is added to allthe rest, and the summons of W---- seldom fails; as if the devil haderected a new university, and those were the colleges of its professors, as well as his schools of discipline. " Roger North, a high Tory, andAttorney-General to James the Second, observed, however, theserendezvous were often not entirely composed of those "factious gentry heso much dreaded;" for he says "This way of passing time might have beenstopped at first, before people had possessed themselves of someconvenience from them of meeting for short despatches, and passingevenings with small expenses. " And old Aubrey, the small Boswell of hisday, attributes his general acquaintance to "the modern advantage ofcoffee-houses in this great city, before which men knew not how to beacquainted, but with their own relations, and societies;" a curiousstatement, which proves the moral connexion with society of allsedentary recreations which induce the herding spirit. 

CHARLES THE FIRST'S LOVE OF THE FINE ARTS. 

Herbert, the faithful attendant of Charles the First during the two lastyears of the king's life, mentions "a diamond seal with the king's armsengraved on it. " The history of this "diamond seal" is remarkable; andseems to have been recovered by the conjectural sagacity of Warburton, who never exercised his favourite talent with greater felicity. Thecurious passage I transcribe may be found in a manuscript letter to Dr. Birch. 

"If you have read Herbert's account of the last days of Charles theFirst's life, you must remember he tells a story of a diamond seal, withthe arms of England cut into it. This, King Charles ordered to be given, I think, to the prince. I suppose you don't know what became of thisseal, but would be surprised to find it afterwards in the Court ofPersia. Yet there Tavernier certainly carried it, and offered it forsale, as I certainly collect from these words of vol. I. P. 541. --'Mesouvenant de ce qui etoit arrivé au Chevalier de Reville, ' &c. He tellsus he told the prime minister what was engraved on the diamond was thearms of a prince of Europe, but, says he, I would not be moreparticular, remembering the case of Reville. Reville's case was this: hecame to seek employment under the Sophy, who asked him 'where he hadserved?' He said 'in England under Charles the First, and that he was acaptain in his guards. '--'Why did you leave his service?' 'He wasmurdered by cruel rebels. '--'And how had you the impudence, ' says theSophy, 'to survive him?' And so disgraced him. Now Tavernier was afraid, if he had said the arms of England had been on the seal, that they wouldhave occasioned the inquiry into the old story. You will ask howTavernier got this seal? I suppose that the prince, in his necessities, sold it to Tavernier, who was at Paris when the English court was there. What made me recollect Herbert's account on reading this, was thesingularity of an impress cut on the diamond, which Tavernier representsas a most extraordinary rarity. Charles the First was a great virtuoso, and delighted particularly in sculpture and painting. "

This is an instance of conjectural evidence, where an historical factseems established on no other authority than the ingenuity of a student, exercised in his library, on a private and secret event, a century afterit had occurred. The diamond seal of Charles the First may yet bediscovered in the treasures of the Persian sovereign. 

Warburton, who had ranged with keen delight through the age of Charlesthe First, the noblest and the most humiliating in our own history, andin that of the world, perpetually instructive, has justly observed theking's passion for the fine arts. It was indeed such, that had the reignof Charles the First proved prosperous, that sovereign about 1640 wouldhave anticipated those tastes, and even that enthusiasm, which are stillalmost foreign to the nation. 

The mind of Charles the First was moulded by the Graces. His favouriteBuckingham was probably a greater favourite for those congenial tastes, and the frequent exhibition of those splendid masques andentertainments, which combined all the picture of ballet dances with thevoice of music; the charms of the verse of Jonson, the scenic machineryof Inigo Jones, and the variety of fanciful devices of Gerbier, theduke's architect, the bosom friend of Rubens. [188] There was a costlymagnificence in the _fêtes_ at York House, the residence of Buckingham, of which few but curious researchers are aware: they eclipsed thesplendour of the French Court; for Bassompiere, in one of hisdespatches, declares he had never witnessed a similar magnificence. Hedescribes the vaulted apartments, the ballets at supper, which wereproceeding between the services with various representations, theatricalchanges, and those of the tables, and the music; the duke's owncontrivance, to prevent the inconvenience of pressure, by having aturning door made like that of the monasteries, which admitted only oneperson at a time. The following extract from a manuscript letter of thetime conveys a lively account of one of those _fêtes. _

"Last Sunday, at night, the duke's grace entertained their majesties andthe French ambassador at York House with great feasting and show, whereall things came down in clouds; amongst which, one rare device was arepresentation of the French king, and the two queens, with theirchiefest attendants, and so to the life, that the queen's majesty couldname them. It was four o'clock in the morning before they parted, andthen the king and queen, together with the French ambassador, lodgedthere. Some estimate this entertainment at five or six thousandpounds. "[189] At another time, "the king and queen were entertained atsupper at Gerbier the duke's painter's house, which could not stand himin less than a thousand pounds. " Sir Symonds D'Ewes mentions banquets atfive hundred pounds. The fullest account I have found of one of theseentertainments, which at once show the curiosity of the scenicalmachinery and the fancy of the poet, the richness Of the crimson habitsof the gentlemen, and the white dresses with white heron's plumes andjewelled head-dresses and ropes of pearls of the ladies, was in amanuscript letter of the times, with which I supplied the editor of"Jonson", who has preserved the narrative in his memoirs of that poet. "Such were the magnificent entertainments, " says Mr. Gifford, "which, though modern refinement may affect to despise them, modern splendournever reached, even in thought. " That the expenditure was costly, provesthat the greater encouragement was offered to artists; nor shouldBuckingham be censured, as some will incline to, for this lavishexpense; it was not unusual for the great nobility then; for theliterary Duchess of Newcastle mentions that an entertainment of thissort, which the Duke gave to Charles the First, cost her lord betweenfour and five thousand pounds. The ascetic puritan would indeed abhorthese scenes; but their magnificence was also designed to infuse intothe national character gentler feelings and more elegant tastes. Theycharmed even the fiercer republican spirits in their tender youth:Milton owes his Arcades and his delightful Comus to a masque at LudlowCastle; and Whitelocke, who, was himself an actor and manager, in "asplendid royal masque of the four Inns of Courts joined together" to goto court about the time that Prynne published his Histriomastix, "tomanifest the difference of their opinions from Mr. Prynne's newlearning, "--seems, even at a later day, when drawing up his "Memorialsof the English Affairs, " and occupied by graver concerns, to have dweltwith all the fondness of reminiscence on the stately shows and masquesof his more innocent age; and has devoted, in a chronicle, whichcontracts many an important event into a single paragraph, six foliocolumns to a minute and very curious description of "these dreams past, and these vanished pomps. "

Charles the First, indeed, not only possessed a critical tact, butextensive knowledge in the fine arts, and the relics of antiquity. Inhis flight in 1642, the king stopped at the abode of the religiousfamily of the Farrars at Gidding, who had there raised a singularmonastic institution among themselves. One of their favorite amusementshad been to form an illustrated Bible, the wonder and the talk of thecountry. In turning it over, the king would tell his companion thePalsgrave, whose curiosity in prints exceeded his knowledge, the variousmasters, and the character of their inventions. When Panzani, a secretagent of the Pope, was sent over to England to promote the Catholiccause, the subtle and elegant Catholic Barberini, called the protectorof the English at Rome, introduced Panzani to the king's favour, bymaking him appear an agent rather for procuring him fine pictures, statues, and curiosities: and the earnest inquiries and orders given byCharles the First prove his perfect knowledge of the most beautifulexisting remains of ancient art. "The statues go on prosperously, " saysCardinal Barberini, in a letter to a Mazarin, "nor shall I hesitate torob Rome of her most valuable ornaments, if in exchange we might be sohappy as to have the King of England's name among those princes whosubmit to the Apostolic See. " Charles the First was particularly urgentto procure a statue of Adonis in the Villa Ludovisia: every effort wasmade by the queen's confessor, Father Philips, and the vigilant cardinalat Rome; but the inexorable Duchess of Fiano would not suffer it to beseparated from her rich collection of statues and paintings, even forthe chance conversion of a whole kingdom of heretics. "[190]

This monarch, who possessed "four-and-twenty palaces, all of themelegantly and completely furnished, " had formed very considerablecollections. "The value of pictures had doubled in Europe, by theemulation between our Charles and Philip the Fourth of Spain, who wastouched with the same elegant passion. " When the rulers of fanaticismbegan their reign, "all the king's furniture was put to sale; hispictures, disposed of at very low prices, enriched all the collectionsin Europe; the cartoons when complete were only appraised at £300, though the whole collection of the king's curiosities were sold at above£50, 000. [191] Hume adds, "the very library and medals at St. James'swere intended by the generals to be brought to auction, in order to paythe arrears of some regiments of cavalry; but Selden, apprehensive ofthis loss, engaged his friend Whitelocke, then lord-keeper of theCommonwealth, to apply for the office of librarian. This contrivancesaved that valuable collection. " This account is only partly correct:the love of books, which formed the passion of the two learned scholarswhom Hume notices, fortunately intervened to save the royal collectionfrom the intended scattering; but the pictures and medals were, perhaps, objects too slight in the eyes of the book-learned; they wore resignedto the singular fate of appraisement. After the Restoration very manybooks were missing; but scarcely a third part of the medals remained: ofthe strange manner in which these precious remains of ancient art andhistory were valued and disposed of, the following account may not beread without interest. 

In March, 1648, the parliament ordered commissioners to be appointed, toinventory the goods and personal estate of the late king, queen, andprince, and appraise them for the use of the public. And in April, 1648, an act, adds Whitelocke, was committed for inventorying the late king'sgoods, &c. [192]

This very inventory I have examined. It forms a magnificent folio, ofnear a thousand pages, of an extraordinary dimension, bound in crimsonvelvet, and richly gilt, written in a fair large hand, but with littleknowledge of the objects which the inventory writer describes. It isentitled "An Inventory of the Goods, Jewels, Plate, &c. Belonging toKing Charles the First, sold by order of the Council of State, from theyear 1619 to 1652. " So that from the decapitation of the king, a yearwas allowed to draw up the inventory; and the sale proceeded duringthree years. 

From this manuscript catalogue[193] to give long extracts were useless;it has afforded, however, some remarkable observations. Every articlewas appraised, nothing was sold under the affixed price, but a slightcompetition sometimes seems to have raised the sum; and when the Councilof State could not get the sum appraised, the gold and silver were sentto the Mint; and assuredly many fine works of art were valued by theounce. The names of the purchasers appear; they are usually English, butprobably many were the agents for foreign courts. The coins or medalswere thrown promiscuously into drawers; one drawer having twenty-fourmedals, was valued at £2 10_s_. ; another of twenty, at £1; another oftwenty-four, at £1; and one drawer, containing forty-six silver coinswith the box, was sold for £5. On the whole the medals seem not to havebeen valued at much more than a shilling a-piece. The appraiser wascertainly no antiquary. 

The king's curiosities in the Tower Jewel-house generally fetched abovethe price fixed; the toys of art could please the unlettered minds thathad no conception of its works. 

The Temple of Jerusalem, made of ebony and amber, fetched £25. 

A fountain of silver, for perfumed waters, artificially made to play ofitself, sold for £30. 

A chess-board, said to be Queen Elizabeth's, inlaid with gold, silver, and pearls, £23. 

A conjuring drum from Lapland, with an almanac cut on a piece of wood. 

Several sections in silver of a Turkish galley, a Venetian gondola, anIndian canoe, and a first-rate man-of-war. 

A Saxon king's mace used in war, with a ball full of spikes, and thehandle covered with gold plates, and enamelled, sold for £37 8_s_. 

A gorget of massy gold, chased with the manner of a battle, weighingthirty-one ounces, at £3 10_s_. Per ounce, was sent to the Mint. 

A Roman shield of buff leather, covered with a plate of gold, finelychased with a Gorgon's head, set round the rim with rubies, emeralds, turquoise stones, in number 137, £132 12_s_. 

The pictures, taken from Whitehall, Windsor, Wimbledon, Greenwich, Hampton-Court, &c. , exhibit, in number, an unparalleled collection. Bywhat standard they were valued, it would perhaps be difficult toconjecture; from £50 to £100 seems to have been the limits of theappraiser's taste and imagination. Some whose price is whimsically lowmay have been thus rated from a political feeling respecting theportrait of the person; there are, however, in this singular appraisedcatalogue two pictures, which were rated at, and sold for, theremarkable sums of one and of two thousand pounds. The one was asleeping Venus by Correggio, and the other a Madonna by Raphael. Therewas also a picture by Julio Romano, called "The great piece of theNativity, " at £500. "The little Madonna and Christ, " by Raphael, at£800. "The great Venus and Parde, " by Titian, at £600. These seem tohave been the only pictures, in this immense collection, which reached apicture's prices. The inventory-writer had, probably, been instructed bythe public voice of their value; which, however, would, in the presentday, be considered much under a fourth. Rubens' "Woman taken inAdultery, " described as a large picture, sold for £20; and his "Peaceand Plenty, with many figures big as the life, " for £100. Titian'spictures seem generally valued at £100. [194] "Venus dressed by theGraces, " by Guido, reached to £200. 

The Cartoons of Raphael, here called "The Acts of the Apostles, "notwithstanding their subject was so congenial to the popular feelings, and only appraised at £300, could find no purchaser![195]

The following full-lengths of celebrated personages were rated at thesewhimsical prices:

Queen Elizabeth in her parliament robes, valued £1. 

The Queen-mother in mourning habit, valued £3. 

Buchanan's picture, valued £3 10s. 

The King, when a youth in coats, valued £2. 

The picture of the Queen when she was with child, sold for fiveshillings. 

King Charles on horseback, by Sir Anthony Vandyke, was purchased by SirBalthazar Gerbier, at the appraised price of £200. [196]

The greatest sums were produced by the tapestry and arras hangings, which were chiefly purchased for the service of the Protector. Theiramount exceeds £30, 000. I note a few. 

At Hampton-Court, ten pieces of arras hangings of Abraham, containing826 yards at £10 a yard, £8260. 

Ten pieces of Julius Cæsar, 717 ells at £7, £5019. [197]

One of the cloth of estates is thus described:

"One rich cloth of estate of purple velvet, embroidered with gold, having the arms of England within a garter, with all the furnituresuitable thereunto. The state containing these stones following: twocameos or agates, twelve chrysolites, twelve ballases or garnets, onesapphire seated in chases of gold, one long pearl pendant, and manylarge and small pearls, valued at £500 sold for £602 10s. To Mr. Oliver, 4 February, 1649. "

Was plain Mr. Oliver, in 1649, who we see was one of the earlierpurchasers, shortly after "the Lord Protector?" All the "cloth ofestate" and "arras hangings" were afterwards purchased for the serviceof the Protector; and one may venture to conjecture, that when Mr. Oliver purchased this "rich cloth of estate, " it was not without alatent motive of its service to the new owner. [198]

There is one circumstance remarkable in the feeling of Charles the Firstfor the fine arts: it was a passion without ostentation or egotism; foralthough this monarch was inclined himself to participate in thepleasures of a creating artist, the king having handled the pencil andcomposed a poem, yet he never suffered his private dispositions toprevail over his more majestic duties. We do not discover in historythat Charles the First was a painter and a poet. Accident and secrethistory only reveal this softening feature in his grave and king-likecharacter. Charles sought no glory from, but only indulged his love for, art and the artists. There are three manuscripts on his art, by Leonardoda Vinci, in the Ambrosian library, which bear an inscription that aKing of England, in 1639, offered one thousand guineas of gold for each. Charles, too, suggested to the two great painters of his age thesubjects he considered worthy of their pencils; and had for his"closet-companions" those native poets for which he was censured in"evil times, " and even by Milton!

In his imprisonment at Carisbrook Castle, the author of the "EikonBasilike" solaced his royal woes by composing a poem, entitled in thevery style of this memorable volume, "Majesty in Misery, or anImploration to the King of kings;" a _title_ probably not his own, butlike that volume, it contains stanzas fraught with the most tender andsolemn feeling; such a subject, in the hands of such an author, was sureto produce poetry, although in the unpractised poet we may want theversifier. A few stanzas will illustrate this conception of part of hischaracter:--

 The fiercest furies that do daily tread Upon my grief, my grey-discrowned head, Are those that own my bounty for their bread. 

 With my own power my majesty they wound; In the king's name, the king himself uncrowned; So doth the dust destroy the diamond. 

After a pathetic description of his queen "forced in pilgrimage to seeka tomb, " and "Great Britain's heir forced into France, " where, Poor child, he weeps out his inheritance!

Charles continues:

 They promise to erect my royal stem; To make me great, to advance my diadem; If I will first fall down and worship them!

 But for refusal they devour my thrones, Distress my children, and destroy my bones; I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones. 

And implores, with a martyr's piety, the Saviour's forgiveness for thosewho were more misled than criminal:

 Such as thou know'st do not know what they do. [199]

As a poet and a painter, Charles is not popularly known; but thisarticle was due, to preserve the memory of the royal votary's ardour andpure feelings for the love of the Fine Arts. [200]

SECRET HISTORY OF CHARLES THE FIRST, AND HIS QUEEN HENRIETTA. 

The secret history of Charles the First, and his queen Henrietta ofFrance, opens a different scene from the one exhibited in the passionatedrama of our history. 

The king is accused of the most spiritless uxoriousness; and the chastefondness of a husband is placed among his political errors. Even Humeconceives that his queen "precipitated him into hasty and imprudentcounsels, " and Bishop Kennet had alluded to "the influence of a statelyqueen over an affectionate husband. " The uxoriousness of Charles isre-echoed by all the writers of a certain party. This is an odium whichthe king's enemies first threw out to make him contemptible; while hisapologists imagined that, in perpetuating this accusation, they haddiscovered, in a weakness which has at least something amiable, somepalliation for his own political misconduct. The factious, too, by thisaspersion, promoted the alarm they spread in the nation, of the king'sinclination to popery; yet, on the contrary, Charles was then making adetermined stand, and at length triumphed over a Catholic faction, whichwas ruling his queen; and this at the risk and menace of a war withFrance. Yet this firmness too has been denied him, even by his apologistHume: that historian, on his preconceived system, imagined that everyaction of Charles originated in the Duke of Buckingham, and that theduke pursued his personal quarrel with Richelieu, and taking advantageof these domestic quarrels, had persuaded Charles to dismiss the Frenchattendants of the queen. [201]

There are, fortunately, two letters from Charles the First toBuckingham, preserved in the State-papers of Lord Hardwicke, which setthis point at rest: these decisively prove that the whole matteroriginated with the king himself, and that Buckingham had tried everyeffort to persuade him to the contrary; for the king complains that hehad been too long overcome by his persuasions, but that he was now"resolved it must be done, and that shortly!"[202]

It is remarkable, that the character of a queen, who is imagined to haveperformed so active a part in our history, scarcely ever appears in it;when abroad, and when she returned to England, in the midst of a winterstorm, bringing all the aid she could to her unfortunate consort, thosewho witnessed this appearance of energy imagined that her character wasequally powerful in the cabinet. Yet Henrietta, after all, was nothingmore than a volatile woman; one who had never studied, never reflected, and whom nature had formed to be charming and haughty, but whosevivacity could not retain even a state-secret for an hour, and whosetalents were quite opposite to those of deep political intrigue. 

Henrietta viewed even the characters of great men with all thesensations of a woman. Describing the Earl of Strafford to aconfidential friend, and having observed that he was a great man, shedwelt with far more interest on his person: "Though not handsome, " saidshe, "he was agreeable enough, and he had the finest hands of any man inthe world. " Landing at Burlington-bay in Yorkshire, she lodged on thequay; the parliament's admiral barbarously pointed his cannon at thehouse; and several shots reaching it, her favourite, Jermyn, requestedher to fly: she safely reached a cavern in the fields, but, recollectingthat she had left a lap-dog asleep in its bed, she flew back, and amidstthe cannon-shot returned with this other favourite. The queen relatedthis incident of the lap-dog to her friend Madame Motteville; theseladies considered it as a complete woman's victory. It is in thesememoirs we find, that when Charles went down to the house, to seize onthe five leading members of the opposition, the queen could notrestrain her lively temper, and impatiently babbled the plot; so thatone of the ladies in attendance despatched a hasty note to the parties, who, as the king entered the house, had just time to leave it. Some havedated the ruin of his cause to the failure of that impolitic step, whichalarmed every one zealous for that spirit of political freedom which hadnow grown up in the Commons. Incidents like these mark the femininedispositions of Henrietta. But when at sea, in danger of being taken bya parliamentarian, the queen commanded the captain not to strike, but toprepare at the extremity to blow up the ship, resisting the shrieks ofher females and domestics. We perceive how, on every trying occasion, Henrietta never forgot that she was the daughter of Henry the Fourth;that glorious affinity was inherited by her with all the sexual pride;and hence, at times, that energy in her actions which was so far aboveher intellectual capacity. 

And, indeed, when the awful events she had witnessed were one by oneregistered in her melancholy mind, the sensibility of the woman subduedthe natural haughtiness of her character; but, true woman! the feelingcreature of circumstances, at the Restoration she resumed it, and whenthe new court of Charles the Second would not endure her obsoletehaughtiness, the dowager-queen left it in all the full bitterness of herspirit. An habitual gloom, and the meagreness of grief, during thecommonwealth, had changed a countenance once the most lively; and hereyes, whose dark and dazzling lustre was ever celebrated, then onlyshone in tears. When she told her physician, Sir Theodore Mayerne, thatshe found her understanding was failing her, and seemed terrified lestit was approaching to madness, the court physician, hardly courtly tofallen majesty, replied, "Madam, fear not that; for you are alreadymad. " Henrietta had lived to contemplate the awful changes of her reign, without comprehending them. 

Waller, in the profusion of poetical decoration, makes Henrietta sobeautiful, that her beauty would affect every lover "more than hisprivate loves. " She was "the whole world's mistress. " A portrait incrayons of Henrietta at Hampton-court sadly reduces all his poetry, forthe miraculous was only in the fancy of the court-poet. But there may besome truth in what he says of the eyes of Henrietta:--

 Such eyes as yours, on Jove himself, had thrown As bright and fierce a lightning as his own. 

And in another poem there is one characteristic line:--

 ---- such radiant eyes, Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies. 

In a MS. Letter of the times, the writer describes the queen as "nimbleand quick, black-eyed, brown-haired, and a brave lady. "[203] In the MS. Journal of Sir Symonds D'Ewes, who saw the queen on her first arrival inLondon, cold and puritanic as was that antiquary, he notices with somewarmth "the features of her face, which were much enlivened by herradiant and sparkling black eye. "[204] She appears to have possessedFrench vivacity both in her manners and her conversation: in the historyof a queen, an accurate conception of her person enters for something. 

Her talents were not of that order which could influence the revolutionsof a people. Her natural dispositions might have allowed her to become apolitician of the toilet, and she might have practised those slighterartifices, which may be considered as so many political coquetries. ButMachiavelian principles, and involved intrigues, of which she has beenso freely accused, could never have entered into her character. At firstshe tried all the fertile inventions of a woman to persuade the kingthat she was his humblest creature, and the good people of England thatshe was quite in love with them. Now that we know that no female wasever more deeply tainted with Catholic bigotry, and that, haughty as shewas, this princess suffered the most insulting superstitions, inflictedas penances by her priests, for this very marriage with a Protestantprince, the following new facts relating to her first arrival in Englandcuriously contrast with the mortified feelings she must have endured bythe violent suppression of her real ones. 

We must first bring forward a remarkable and unnoticed document in theEmbassies of Marshal Bassompierre. [205] It is nothing less than a mostsolemn obligation contracted with the Pope and her brother the King ofFrance, to educate her children as Catholics, and only to chooseCatholics to attend them. Had this been known either to Charles or tothe English nation, Henrietta could never have been permitted to ascendthe English throne. The fate of both her sons shows how faithfully sheperformed this treasonable contract. This piece of secret history opensthe concealed cause of those deep impressions of that faith which bothmonarchs sucked in with their milk; that triumph of the cradle over thegrave which most men experience; Charles the Second died a Catholic, James the Second lived as one. 

When Henrietta was on her way to England, a legate from Rome arrestedher at Amiens, requiring the princess to undergo a penance, which was tolast sixteen days, for marrying Charles without the papal dispensation. The queen stopped her journey, and wrote to inform the king of theoccasion. Charles, who was then waiting for her at Canterbury, replied, that if Henrietta did not instantly proceed, he would return alone toLondon. Henrietta doubtless sighed for the Pope and the penance, but sheset off the day she received the king's letter. The king, either by hiswisdom or his impatience, detected the aim of the Roman pontiff, who, had he been permitted to arrest the progress of a Queen of England forsixteen days in the face of all Europe, would thus have obtained a tacitsupremacy over a British monarch. 

When the king arrived at Canterbury, although not at the moment preparedto receive him, Henrietta flew to meet him, and with all her spontaneousgrace and native vivacity, kneeling at his feet, she kissed his hand, while the king, bending over her, wrapped her in his arms, and kissedher with many kisses. This royal and youthful pair, unusual with thoseof their rank, met with the eagerness of lovers, and the first words ofHenrietta were those of devotion; _Sire! je suis venue en ce pays devotre majesté pour être usée et commandée de vous. _[206] It had beenrumoured that she was of a very short stature, but, reaching to theking's shoulder, his eyes were cast down to her feet, seeminglyobserving whether she used art to increase her height. Anticipating histhoughts, and playfully showing her feet, she declared, that "she stoodupon her own feet, for thus high I am, and neither higher nor lower. "After an hour's conversation in privacy, Henrietta took her dinnersurrounded by the court; and the king, who had already dined, performingthe office of her carver, cut a pheasant and some venison. By the sideof the queen stood her ghostly confessor, solemnly reminding her thatthis was the eve of John the Baptist, and was to be fasted, exhortingher to be cautious that she set no scandalous example on her firstarrival. But Charles and his court were now to be gained over, as wellas John the Baptist. She affected to eat very heartily of the forbiddenmeat, which gave great comfort, it seems, to several of her newheretical subjects then present: but we may conceive the pangs of soconfirmed a devotee. She carried her dissimulation so far, that beingasked about this time whether she could abide a Huguenot? she replied, "Why not? was not my father one?" Her ready smiles, the graceful wave ofher hand, the many "good signs of hope, " as a contemporary in amanuscript letter expresses it, induced many of the English to believethat Henrietta might even become one of themselves! Sir Symonds D'Ewes, as appears by his manuscript diary, was struck by "her deportment to herwomen, and her looks to her servants, which were so sweet andhumble!"[207] However, this was in the first days of her arrival, andthese "sweet and humble looks" were not constant ones; for a courier atWhitehall, writing to a friend, observes that "the queen, however littleof stature, yet is of a pleasing countenance, if she be pleased, otherwise full of spirit and vigour, and seems of more than ordinaryresolution;" and he adds an incident of one of her "frowns. " The room inwhich the queen was at dinner, being somewhat over-heated with the fireand company, "she drove us all out of the chamber. I suppose none but aqueen could have cast such a scowl. "[208] We may already detect the fairwaxen mask melting away on the features it covered, even in one shortmonth!

By the marriage-contract, Henrietta was to be allowed a householdestablishment, composed of her own people; and this had been contrivedto be not less than a small French colony, exceeding three hundredpersons. It composed, in fact, a French faction, and looks like a covertproject of Richelieu's to further his intrigues here, by opening aperpetual correspondence with the discontented Catholics of England. Inthe instructions of Bassompierre, one of the alleged objects of themarriage is the general good of the Catholic religion, by affording somerelief to those English who professed it. If, however, that greatstatesman ever entertained this political design, the simplicity andpride of the Roman priests here completely overturned it; for in theirblind zeal they dared to extend their domestic tyranny over majestyitself. 

The French party had not long resided here ere the mutual jealousiesbetween the two nations broke out. All the English who were notCatholics were soon dismissed from their attendance on the queen, byherself; while Charles was compelled, by the popular cry, to forbid anyEnglish Catholics to serve the queen, or to be present at thecelebration of her mass. The king was even obliged to employ pursuivantsor king's messengers, to stand at the door of her chapel to seize on anyof the English who entered there, while on these occasions the Frenchwould draw their swords to defend these concealed Catholics. "The queenand hers" became an odious distinction in the nation. Such were theindecent scenes exhibited in public; they were not less reserved inprivate. The following anecdote of saying a grace before the king, athis own table, in a most indecorous race run between the catholic priestand the king's chaplain, is given in a manuscript letter of the times. 

"The king and queen dining together in the presence, [209] Mr. Hacket(chaplain to the Lord Keeper Williams)[210] being then to say grace, theconfessor would have prevented him, but that Hacket shoved him away;whereupon the confessor went to the queen's side, and was about to saygrace again, but that the king pulling the dishes unto him, and thecarvers falling to their business, hindered. When dinner was done, theconfessor thought, standing by the queen, to have been before Mr. Hacket, but Mr. Hacket again got the start. The confessor, nevertheless, begins his grace as loud as Mr. Hacket, with such a confusion, that theking in great passion instantly rose from the table, and, taking thequeen by the hand, retired into the bedchamber. "[211] It is withdifficulty we conceive how such a scene of priestly indiscretion shouldhave been suffered at the table of an English sovereign. 

Such are the domestic accounts I have gleaned from MS. Letters of thetimes; but particulars of a deeper nature may be discovered in theanswer of the king's council to Marshal Bassompierre, preserved in thehistory of his embassy; this marshal had been hastily despatched as anextraordinary ambassador when the French party were dismissed. Thisstate-document, rather a remonstrance than a reply, states that theFrench household had formed a little republic within themselves, combining with the French resident ambassador, and inciting theopposition members in parliament; a practice usual with that intriguingcourt, even from the days of Elizabeth, as the original letters of theFrench ambassador of the time, which will be found in the third volume, amply show; and those of La Boderie in James the First's time, whoraised a French party about Prince Henry; and the correspondence ofBarillon in Charles the Second's reign, so fully exposed in his entirecorrespondence published by Fox. The French domestics of the queen wereengaged in lower intrigues; they lent their names to hire houses in thesuburbs of London, where, under their protection, the English Catholicsfound a secure retreat to hold their illegal assemblies, and where theyouth of both sexes were educated and prepared to be sent abroad toCatholic seminaries. But the queen's priests, by those well-known meanswhich the Catholic religion sanctions, were drawing from the queen theminutest circumstances which passed in privacy between her and the king;indisposed her mind towards her royal consort, impressed on her acontempt of the English nation, and a disgust of our customs, andparticularly, as has been usual with the French, made her neglect theEnglish language, as if the queen of England held no common interestwith the nation. They had made her residence a place of security for thepersons and papers of the discontented. Yet all this was hardly moreoffensive than the humiliating state to which they had reduced anEnglish queen by their monastic obedience: inflicting the most degradingpenances. One of the most flagrant is alluded to in our history. Thiswas a barefoot pilgrimage to Tyburn, where, one morning, under thegallows on which so many Jesuits had been executed as traitors toElizabeth and James the First, she knelt and prayed to them as martyrsand saints who had shed their blood in defence of the Catholiccause. [212] A manuscript letter of the times mentions that "the priestshad also made her dabble in the dirt in a foul morning fromSomerset-house to St. James's, her Luciferian confessor riding along byher in his coach! They have made her to go barefoot, to spin, to eat hermeat out of dishes, to wait at the table of servants, with many otherridiculous and absurd penances. And if they dare thus insult (adds thewriter) over the daughter, sister, and wife of so great kings, whatslavery would they not make us, the people, to undergo!"[213]

One of the articles in the contract of marriage was, that the queenshould have a chapel at St. James's, to be built and consecrated by herFrench bishop; the priests became very importunate, declaring thatwithout a chapel mass could not be performed with the state it oughtbefore a queen. The king's answer is not that of a man inclined topopery. "If the queen's closet, where they now say mass, is not largeenough, let them have it in the great chamber; and, if the great chamberis not wide enough, they might use the garden; and, if the garden wouldnot serve their turn, then was the park the fittest place. "

The French priests and the whole party feeling themselves slighted, andsometimes worse treated, were breeding perpetual quarrels amongthemselves, grew weary of England, and wished themselves away: but manyhaving purchased their places with all their fortune, would have beenruined by the breaking up of the establishment. Bassompierre alludes tothe broils and clamours of these French strangers, which exposed them tothe laughter of the English court; and we cannot but smile in observing, in one of the despatches of this great mediator between two kings and aqueen, addressed to the minister, that one of the greatest obstacleswhich he had found in this difficult negotiation arose from thebedchamber women! The French king being desirous of having twoadditional women to attend the English queen his sister, the ambassadordeclares, that "it would be more expedient rather to diminish than toincrease the number; for they all live so ill together, with suchrancorous jealousies and enmities, that I have more trouble to make themagree than I shall find to accommodate the differences between the twokings. Their continual bickerings, and often their vituperativelanguage, occasion the English to entertain the most contemptible andridiculous opinions of our nation. I shall not, therefore, insist onthis point, unless it shall please his majesty to renew it. "

The French bishop was under the age of thirty, and his authority wasimagined to have been but irreverently treated by two beautiful viragosin that civil war of words which was raging; one of whom, Madame St. George, was in high favour, and most intolerably hated by the English. Yet such was English gallantry, that the king presented this lady on herdismission with several thousand pounds and jewels. There was somethinginconceivably ludicrous in the notions of the English, of a bishophardly of age, and the gravity of whose character was probably tarnishedby French gesture and vivacity. This French establishment was dailygrowing in expense and number; a manuscript letter of the times statesthat it cost the king £240 a day, and had increased from threescorepersons to four hundred and forty, besides children!

It was one evening that the king suddenly appeared, and, summoning theFrench household, commanded them to take their instant departure--thecarriages were prepared for their removal. In doing this, Charles had toresist the warmest entreaties, and even the vehement anger of the queen, who is said in her rage to have broken several panes of the window ofthe apartment to which the king dragged her, and confined her fromthem. [214]

The scene which took place among the French people, at the suddenannouncement of the king's determination, was remarkably indecorous. They instantly flew to take possession of all the queen's wardrobe andjewels; they did not leave her, it appears, a change of linen, since itwas with difficulty she procured one as a favour, according to somemanuscript letters of the times. One of their extraordinary expedientswas that of inventing bills, for which they pretended they had engagedthemselves on account of the queen, to the amount of £10, 000, which thequeen at first owned to, but afterwards acknowledged the debts werefictitious ones. Among these items was one of £400 for necessaries forher majesty; an apothecary's bill for drugs of £800; and another of£150 for "the bishop's unholy water, " as the writer expresses it. Theyoung French bishop attempted by all sorts of delays to avoid thisignominious expulsion; till the king was forced to send his yeomen ofthe guards to turn them out from Somerset-house, where the juvenileFrench bishop, at once protesting against it, and mounting the steps ofthe coach, took his departure "head and shoulders. "[215] It appears thatto pay the debts and the pensions, besides sending the French troopsfree home, cost £50, 000. 

In a long procession of nearly forty coaches, after four days' tedioustravelling, they reached Dover; but the spectacle of these impatientforeigners so reluctantly quitting England, gesticulating their sorrowsor their quarrels, exposed them to the derision, and stirred up theprejudices of the common people. As Madame George, whose vivacity isalways described as extravagantly French, was stepping into the boat, one of the mob could not resist the satisfaction of flinging a stone ather French cap; an English courtier, who was conducting her, instantlyquitted his charge, ran the fellow through the body, and quietlyreturned to the boat. The man died on the spot; but no farther noticeappears to have been taken of the inconsiderate gallantry of thisEnglish courtier. 

But Charles did not show his kingly firmness only on this occasion: itdid not forsake him when the French Marshal Bassompierre was instantlysent over to awe the king; Charles sternly offered the alternative ofwar, rather than permit a French faction to trouble an English court. Bassompierre makes a curious observation in a letter to the FrenchBishop of Mende, he who had been just sent away from England; and whichserves as the most positive evidence of the firm refusal of Charles theFirst. The French marshal, after stating the total failure of hismission, exclaims, "See, sir, to what we are reduced! and imagine mygrief, that the Queen of Great Britain has the pain of viewing mydeparture without being of any service to her; but if you consider thatI was sent here to _make a contract of marriage observed, and tomaintain the Catholic religion in a country from which they formerlybanished it to make a contract of marriage_, you will assist in excusingme of this failure. " The French marshal has also preserved the samedistinctive feature of the nation, as well as of the monarch, who, surely to his honour as King of England, felt and acted on this occasionas a true Briton. "I have found, " says the Gaul, "humility amongSpaniards, civility and courtesy among the Swiss, in the embassies I hadthe honour to perform for the king; but the English would not in theleast abate of their natural pride and arrogance. The king is soresolute not to re-establish any French about the queen, his consort, and was so stern (_rude_) in speaking to me, that it is impossible tohave been more so. " In a word, the French marshal, with all his vauntsand his threats, discovered that Charles the First was the truerepresentative of his subjects, and that the king had the same feelingswith the people: this indeed was not always the case! This transactiontook place in 1626, and when, four years afterwards, it was attemptedagain to introduce certain French persons, a bishop and a physician, about the queen, the king absolutely refused even a French physician, who had come over with the intention of being chosen the queen's, underthe sanction of the queen mother. This little circumstance appears in amanuscript letter from Lord Dorchester to M. De Vic, one of the king'sagents at Paris. After an account of the arrival of this Frenchphysician, his lordship proceeds to notice the former determinations ofthe king; "yet this man, " he adds, "hath been addressed to theambassador to introduce him into the court, and the queen persuaded incleare and plaine terms to speak to the king to admit him as domestique. His majesty expressed his dislike of this proceeding, but contentedhimself to let the ambassador know that this doctor may return as he iscome, with intimation that he should do it speedily; the Frenchambassador, willing to help the matter, spake to the king that the saiddoctor might be admitted to kiss the queen's hand, and to carrie thenews into France of her safe delivery: which the king excused by a civilanswer, and has since commanded me to let the ambassador understand, that he had heard him as Monsieur de Fontenay in this particular, but, if he should persist and press him as ambassador, he should be forced tosay that which would displease him. " Lord Dorchester adds, that heinforms M. De Vic of these particulars, that he should not want for theinformation should the matter be revived by the French court, otherwisehe need not notice it. [216]

By this narrative of secret history, Charles the First does not appearso weak a slave to his queen as our writers echo from each other; andthose who make Henrietta so important a personage in the cabinet, appearto have been imperfectly acquainted with her real talents. Charles, indeed, was deeply enamoured of the queen, for he was inclined to strongpersonal attachments;[217] and "the temperance of his youth, by which hehad lived so free from personal vice, " as May, the parliamentaryhistorian expresses it, even the gay levity of Buckingham seems never, in approaching the king, to have violated. Charles admired in Henriettaall those personal graces which he himself wanted; her vivacity inconversation enlivened his own seriousness, and her gay volubility thedefective utterance of his own; while the versatility of her mannersrelieved his own formal habits. Doubtless the queen exercised the samepower over this monarch which vivacious females are privileged by natureto possess over their husbands; she was often listened to, and hersuggestions were sometimes approved; but the fixed and systematicprinciples of the character and the government of this monarch must notbe imputed to the intrigues of a mere lively and volatile woman; we musttrace them to a higher source; to his own inherited conceptions of theregal rights, if we would seek for truth, and read the history of humannature in the history of Charles the First. 

Long after this article was published, the subject has been morecritically developed in my "Commentaries on the Life and Reign ofCharles the First. "

THE MINISTER--THE CARDINAL DUKE OF RICHELIEU. 

Richelieu was the greatest of statesmen, if he who maintains himself bythe greatest power is necessarily the greatest minister. He was called"the King of the King. " After having long tormented himself and France, he left a great name and a great empire--both alike the victims ofsplendid ambition! Neither this great minister nor this great nationtasted of happiness under his mighty administration. He had, indeed, aheartlessness in his conduct which obstructed by no relentings thoseremorseless decisions which made him terrible. But, while he trode downthe princes of the blood and the nobles, and drove his patroness, thequeen-mother, into a miserable exile, and contrived that the king shouldfear and hate his brother, and all the cardinal-duke chose, Richelieuwas grinding the face of the poor by exorbitant taxation, and convertedevery town in France into a garrison; it was said of him, that he neverliked to be in any place where he was not the strongest. "Thecommissioners of the exchequer and the commanders of the army believethemselves called to a golden harvest; and in the interim the cardinalis charged with the sins of all the world, and is even afraid of hislife. " Thus Grotius speaks, in one of his letters, of the miserablesituation of this great minister, in his account of the court of Francein 1635, when he resided there as Swedish ambassador. Yet such is thedelusion of these great politicians, who consider what they term_state-interests_ as paramount to all other duties, human or divine, that while their whole life is a series of oppression, of troubles, ofdeceit, and of cruelty, their _state-conscience_ finds nothing toreproach itself with. Of any other conscience it seems absolutelynecessary that they should be divested. Richelieu, on his death-bed, made a solemn protestation, appealing to the last judge of man, who wasabout to pronounce his sentence, that he never proposed anything but forthe good of religion and the state; that is, the Catholic religion andhis own administration. When Louis the Thirteenth, who visited him inhis last moments, took from the hand of an attendant a plate with twoyolks of eggs, that the King of France might himself serve his expiringminister, Richelieu died in all the self-delusion of a great minister. 

The sinister means he practised, and the political deceptions hecontrived, do not yield in subtilty to the dark grandeur of hisministerial character. It appears that, at a critical moment, when hefelt the king's favour was wavering, he secretly ordered a battle to belost by the French, to determine the king at once not to give up aminister who, he knew, was the only man who could extricate him out ofthis new difficulty. In our great civil war, this minister pretended toCharles the First that he was attempting to win the parliament over tohim, while he was backing their most secret projects against Charles. When a French ambassador addressed the parliament as an independentpower, after the king had broken with it, Charles, sensibly affected, remonstrated with the French court; the minister disavowed the wholeproceeding, and instantly recalled the ambassador, while at the verymoment his secret agents were, to their best, embroiling the affairs ofboth parties. [218] The object of Richelieu was to weaken the Englishmonarchy, so as to busy itself at home, and prevent its fleets and itsarmies thwarting his projects on the Continent, lest England, jealous ofthe greatness of France, should declare itself for Spain the moment ithad recovered its own tranquillity. This is a stratagem too ordinarywith great ministers, those plagues of the earth, who, with theirstate-reasons, are for cutting as many throats as God pleases amongevery other nation. [219]

A fragment of the secret history of this great minister may be gatheredfrom that of some of his confidential agents. One exposes an inventionof this minister's to shorten his cabinet labours, and to have at hand ascreen, when that useful contrivance was requisite; the other, theterrific effects of an agent setting up to be a politician on his ownaccount, against that of his master. 

Richelieu's confessor was one Father Joseph; but this man was designedto be employed rather in state-affairs, than in those which concernedhis conscience. This minister, who was never a penitent, could havenone. Father Joseph had a turn for political negotiation, otherwise hehad not been the cardinal's confessor; but this turn was of that sort, said the nuncio Spada, which was adapted to follow up to the utmost theviews and notions of the minister, rather than to draw the cardinal tohis, or to induce him to change a tittle of his designs. The truth is, that Father Joseph preferred going about in his chariot on ministerialmissions, rather than walking solitarily to his convent, after listeningto the unmeaning confessions of Cardinal Richelieu. He made himself sointimately acquainted with the plans and the will of this greatminister, that he could venture at a pinch to act without orders: andforeign affairs were particularly consigned to his management. Grotius, when Swedish ambassador, knew them both. Father Joseph, he tells us, wasemployed by Cardinal Richelieu to open negotiations, and put them in away to succeed to his mind, and then the cardinal would step in, andundertake the finishing himself. Joseph took businesses in hand whenthey were green, and, after ripening them, he handed them over to thecardinal. In a conference which Grotius held with the parties, Josephbegan the treaty, and bore the brunt of the first contest. After a warmdebate, the cardinal interposed as arbitrator: "A middle way willreconcile you, " said the minister, "and as you and Joseph can neveragree, I will now make you friends. "[220]

That this was Richelieu's practice, appears from another similarpersonage mentioned by Grotius, but one more careless and less cunning. When the French ambassador, Leon Brulart, assisted by Joseph, concludedat Ratisbon a treaty with the emperor's ambassador, on its arrival thecardinal unexpectedly disapproved of it, declaring that the ambassadorhad exceeded his instructions. But Brulart, who was an old statesman, and Joseph, to whom the cardinal confided his most secret views, it wasnot supposed could have committed such a gross error; and it was ratherbelieved that the cardinal changed his opinions with the state ofaffairs, wishing for peace or war as they suited the French interests, or as he conceived they tended to render his administration necessary tothe crown. [221] When Brulart, on his return from his embassy, found thisoutcry raised against him, and not a murmur against Joseph, he explainedthe mystery; the cardinal had raised this clamour against him merely tocover the instructions which he had himself given, and which Brulart wasconvinced he had received, through his organ, Father Joseph; a man, saidhe, who has nothing of the Capuchin but the frock, and nothing of theChristian but the name: a mind so practised in artifices, that he coulddo nothing without deception: and during the whole of the Ratisbonnegotiation, Brulart discovered that Joseph would never communicate tohim any business till the whole was finally arranged: the sole object ofhis pursuit was to find means to gratify the cardinal. Such freesentiments nearly cost Brulart his head: for once in quitting thecardinal in warmth, the minister following him to the door, and passinghis hand over the other's neck, observed, that "Brulart was a fine man, and it would be a pity to divide the head from the body. "

One more anecdote of this good father Joseph, the favourite instrumentof the most important and covert designs of this minister, has beenpreserved in the _Memorie Recondite_ of Vittorio Siri, [222] an ItalianAbbé, the Procopius of France, but afterwards pensioned by Mazarin. Richelieu had in vain tried to gain over Colonel Ornano, a man oftalents, the governor of Monsieur, the only brother of Louis XIII. ; notaccustomed to have his offers refused, he resolved to ruin him. Josephwas now employed to contract a particular friendship with Ornano, and tosuggest to him, that it was full time that his pupil should be admittedinto the council, to acquire some political knowledge. The advancementof Ornano's royal pupil was his own; and as the king had no children, the crown might descend to Monsieur. Ornano therefore took the firstopportunity to open himself to the king, on the propriety of initiatinghis brother into affairs, either in council, or by a command in thearmy. This the king, as usual, immediately communicated to the cardinal, who was well prepared to give the request the most odious turn, and toalarm his majesty with the character of Ornano, who, he said, wasinspiring the young prince with ambitious thoughts--that the next stepwould be an attempt to share the crown itself with his majesty. Thecardinal foresaw how much Monsieur would be offended by the refusal andwould not fail to betray his impatience, and inflame the jealousy of theking. Yet Richelieu bore still an open face and friendly voice forOrnano, whom he was every day undermining in the king's favour, till allterminated in a pretended conspiracy, and Ornano perished in theBastile, of a fever, at least caught there:--so much for the friendshipof Father Joseph! And by such men and such means the astute ministersecretly threw a seed of perpetual hatred between the royal brothers, producing conspiracies often closing in blood, which only his ownhaughty tyranny had provoked. 

Father Joseph died regretted by Richelieu; he was an ingenious sort of a_creature_, and kept his carriage to his last day, but his name is onlypreserved in secret histories. The fate of Father Caussin, the author ofthe "Cours Sainte, " a popular book among the Catholics for its curiousreligious stories, and whose name is better known than Father Joseph's, shows how this minister could rid himself of father confessors whopersisted, according to their own notions, to be honest men, in spite ofthe minister. This piece of secret history is drawn from a narrativemanuscript which Caussin left addressed to the general of theJesuits. [223]

Richelieu chose Father Caussin for the king's confessor, and he hadscarcely entered his office when the cardinal informed him of the king'sromantic friendship for Mademoiselle La Fayette, of whom the cardinalwas extremely jealous. Desirous of getting rid altogether of this sortof tender connexion, he hinted to the new confessor that, howeverinnocent it might be, it was attended with perpetual danger, which thelady herself acknowledged, and, warm with "all the motions of grace, "had declared her intention to turn "Religieuse;" and that Caussin oughtto dispose the king's mind to see the wisdom of the resolution. Ithappened, however, that Caussin considered that this lady, whose zealfor the happiness of the people was well known, might prove moreserviceable at court than in a cloister, so that the good father wasvery inactive in the business, and the minister began to suspect that hehad in hand an instrument not at all fitted to it like Father Joseph. 

"The motions of grace" were, however, more active than the confessor, and Mademoiselle retired to a monastery. Richelieu learned that the kinghad paid her a visit of three hours, and he accused Caussin ofencouraging these secret interviews. This was not denied, but it wasadroitly insinuated that it was prudent not abruptly to oppose theviolence of the king's passion, which seemed reasonable to the minister. The king continued these visits, and the lady, in concert with Caussin, impressed on the king the most unfavourable sentiments of the minister, the tyranny exercised over the exiled queen mother and the princes ofthe blood;[224] the grinding taxes he levied on the people, his projectsof alliance with the Turk against the Christian sovereigns, &c. Hismajesty sighed: he asked Caussin if he could name any one capable ofoccupying the minister's place? Our simple politician had not taken sucha consideration in his mind. The king asked Caussin whether he wouldmeet Richelieu face to face? The Jesuit was again embarrassed, butsummoned up the resolution with equal courage and simplicity. 

Caussin went for the purpose: he found the king closeted with theminister; the conference was long, from which Caussin augured ill. Hehimself tells us, that, weary of waiting in the ante-chamber, hecontrived to be admitted into the presence of the king, when heperformed his promise. But the case was altered! Caussin had lost hiscause before he pleaded it, and Richelieu had completely justifiedhimself to the king. The good father was told that the king would notperform his devotions that day, and that he might return to Paris. Thenext morning the whole affair was cleared up. An order from courtprohibited this voluble Jesuit either from speaking or writing to anyperson; and farther, drove him away in an inclement winter, sick in bodyand at heart, till he found himself an exile on the barren rocks ofQuimper in Brittany, where, among the savage inhabitants, he wascontinually menaced by a prison or a gallows, which the terrificminister lost no opportunity to place before his imagination; andoccasionally despatched a Paris Gazette, which distilled the venom ofRichelieu's heart, and which, like the eagle of Prometheus, could gnawat the heart of the insulated politician chained to his rock. [225]

Such were the contrasted fates of Father Joseph and Father Caussin! theone, the ingenious _creature_, the other, the simple oppositionist ofthis great minister. 

THE MINISTER--DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, LORD ADMIRAL, LORD GENERAL, &c. &c. &c. 

"Had the Duke of Buckingham been blessed with a faithful friend, qualified with wisdom and integrity, the duke would have committed asfew faults, and done as transcendent worthy actions as any man in thatage in Europe. " Such was the opinion of Lord Clarendon in the prime oflife, when, yet untouched by party feeling, he had no cause to plead, and no quarrel with truth. [226]

The portrait of Buckingham by Hume seems to me a character dove-tailedinto a system, adjusted to his plan of lightening the errors of Charlesthe First by participating them among others. This character concealsthe more favourable parts of no ordinary man: the spirit which wasfitted to lead others by its own invincibility, and some qualities hepossessed of a better nature. All the fascination of his character islost in the general shade cast over it by the niggardly commendation, that he possessed "_some_ accomplishments of a courtier. " Some, indeed!and the most pleasing; but not all truly, for dissimulation andhypocrisy were arts unpractised by this courtier. "His sweet andattractive manner, so favoured by the graces, " has been described by SirHenry Wotton, who knew him well; while Clarendon, another livingwitness, tells us that "he was the most rarely accomplished the courthad ever beheld; while some that found inconvenience in his nearness, intending by some affront to discountenance him, perceived he had maskedunder this gentleness a terrible courage, as could safely protect allhis sweetnesses. "

The very errors and infirmities of Buckingham seem to have started fromqualities of a generous nature; too devoted a friend, and tooundisguised an enemy, carrying his loves and his hatreds on his openforehead;[227] too careless of calumny, [228] too fearless of danger; hewas, in a word, a man of sensation, acting from impulse; scorning, indeed, prudential views, but capable at all times of embracing grandand original ones; compared by the jealousy of faction to the Spenser ofEdward the Second, and even the Sejanus of Tiberius, he was no enemy tothe people; often serious in the best designs, but volatile in themidst; his great error sprung from a sanguine spirit. "He was ever, "says Wotton, "greedy of honour and hot upon the public ends, and tooconfident in the prosperity of beginnings. " If Buckingham was a hero, and yet neither general nor admiral; a minister, and yet no statesman;if often the creature of popular admiration, he was at length hated bythe people; if long envied by his equals, and betrayed by his owncreatures, [229] "delighting too much in the press and affluence ofdependents and suitors, who are always the burrs, and sometimes thebriars of favourites, " as Wotton well describes them; if one of hisgreat crimes in the eyes of the people was, that "his enterprisessucceeded not according to their impossible expectation;" and that itwas a still greater, that Buckingham had been the permanent favouriteof two monarchs, who had spoilt their child of fortune; then may thefuture inquirer find something of his character which remains to beopened; to instruct alike the sovereigns and the people, and "be worthyto be registered among the great examples of time and fortune. "

Contrast the fate of BUCKINGHAM with that of his great rival, RICHELIEU. The one winning popularity and losing it; once in the Commons saluted as"their redeemer, " till, at length, they resolved that "Buckingham wasthe cause of all the evils and dangers to the king and kingdom. "Magnificent, open, and merciful; so forbearing, even in his acts ofgentle oppression, that they were easily evaded; and riots and libelswere infecting the country, till, in the popular clamour, Buckingham wasmade a political monster, and the dagger was planted in the heart of theincautious minister. The other statesman, unrelenting in his power, andgrinding in his oppression, unblest with one brother-feeling, had hisdungeons filled and his scaffolds raised, and died in safety andglory--a cautious tyrant!

There exists a manuscript memoir of Sir Balthazar Gerbier, who was oneof those ingenious men whom Buckingham delighted to assemble about him:for this was one of his characteristics, that although the duke himselfwas not learned, yet he never wanted for knowledge; too early in life apractical man, he had not the leisure to become a contemplative one; hesupplied this deficiency by perpetually "sifting and questioning well"the most eminent for their experience and knowledge; and Lord Bacon, andthe Lord Keeper Williams, as well as such as Gerbier, were admitted intothis sort of intimacy. We have a curious letter by Lord Bacon, of adviceto our minister, written at his own request: and I have seen a largecorrespondence with that subtle politician, the Lord Keeper Williams, who afterwards attempted to supplant him, to the same purpose. Gerbierwas the painter and architect, and at the same time one of theconfidential agents of Buckingham; the friend of Rubens the painter, with whom he was concerned in this country to open a Spanishnegotiation, and became at length the master of the ceremonies toCharles the Second, in his exile. He was an actor in many scenes. Gerbier says of himself, that "he was a minister who had the honour ofpublic employment, and may therefore incur censure for declaring somepassages of state more overtly than becomes such an one; but secretsare secrets but for a time; others may be wiser for themselves, but itis their silence which makes me write. "[230]

A mystery has always hung over that piece of knight-errantry, theromantic journey to Madrid, where the prime minister and the heirapparent, in disguise, confided their safety in the hands of ournational enemies; which excited such popular clamour, and indeedanxiety, for the prince and the protestant cause. A new light is castover this extraordinary transaction, by a secret which the Duke impartedto Gerbier. The project was Buckingham's; a bright original view, buttaken far out of the line of precedence. It was one of those boldinventions which no common mind could have conceived, and none but thespirit of Buckingham could have carried on with a splendour and masteryover the persons and events, which turned out, however, as unfavourableas possible. 

The restoration of the imprudent Palatine, the son-in-law of James theFirst, to the Palatinate which that prince had lost by his ownindiscretion, when he accepted the crown of Bohemia, although warned ofhis own incompetency, as well as of the incapacity of those princes ofthe empire, who might have assisted him against the power of Austria andSpain, seemed, however, to a great part of our nation necessary to thestability of the protestant interests. James the First was most bitterlyrun down at home for his civil pacific measures, but the truth is, byGerbier's account, that James could not depend on one single ally, whohad all taken fright, although some of the Germans were willing enoughto be subsidised at £30, 000 a month from England; this James had not togive, and which he had been a fool had he given; for though this war forthe protestant interests was popular in England, it was by no meansgeneral among the German Princes: the Prince Elector of Treves, andanother prince, had treated Gerbier coolly; and observed, that "God inthese days did not send prophets more to the protestants than to others, to fight against nations, and to second pretences which publicincendiaries propose to princes, to engage them into unnecessary warswith their neighbours. " France would not go to war, and much less theDanes, the Swedes, and the Hollanders. James was calumniated for histimidity and cowardice; yet, says Gerbier, King James merited much ofhis people, though ill-requited, choosing rather to suffer an eclipse ofhis personal reputation, than to bring into such hazard the reputationand force of his kingdoms in a war of no hopes. 

As a father and a king, from private and from public motives, therestoration of the Palatinate had a double tie on James, and it wasalways the earnest object of his negotiations. But Spain sent him anamusing and literary ambassador, who kept him in play, year after year, with merry tales and _bon mots_. [231] These negotiations had languishedthrough all the tedium of diplomacy; the amusing promises of the courtlyGondomar were sure, on return of the courier, to bring suddendifficulties from the subtle Olivarez. Buckingham meditated by a singleblow to strike at the true secret, whether the Spanish court could beinduced to hasten this important object, gained over by the profferedalliance with the English crown, from the lips of the prince himself. The whole scene dazzled with politics, chivalry, and magnificence; itwas caught by the high spirit of the youthful prince, who, Clarendontells us, "loved adventures;" and it was indeed an incident which hasadorned more than one Spanish romance. The panic which seized theEnglish, fearful of the personal safety of the prince, did not prevailwith the duke, who told Gerbier that the prince ran no hazard from theSpaniard, who well knew that while his sister, the fugitive Queen ofBohemia, with a numerous issue, was residing in Holland, the protestantsuccession to our crown was perfectly secured: and it was with thisconviction, says Gerbier, that when the Count-Duke Olivarez had beenpersuaded that the Prince of Wales was meditating a flight from Spain, Buckingham with his accustomed spirit told him, that "if love had madethe prince steal out of his own country, yet fear would never make himrun out of Spain, and that he should depart with an equipage as fitted aPrince of Wales. " This was no empty vaunt. An English fleet was thenwaiting in a Spanish port, and the Spanish court, inviting our prince tothe grand Escurial, attended the departure of Charles, as Hume expressesit, with "elaborate pomp. "

This attempt of Buckingham, of which the origin has been so ofteninquired into, and so oppositely viewed, entirely failed with theSpaniard. The catholic league outweighed the protestant. At first, theSpanish court had been as much taken by surprise as the rest of theworld. All parties seemed at their first interview highly gratified. "Wemay rule the world together, " said the Spanish to the English minister. They were, however, not made by nature, or state interests, to agree ata second interview. The Lord Keeper Williams, a wily courtier and subtlepolitician, who, in the absence of his patron Buckingham, evidentlysupplanted him in the favour of his royal master, when asked by James"whether he thought this knight-errant pilgrimage would be likely to winthe Spanish lady, " answered with much political foresight, and saw thedifficulty: "If my lord marquis will give honour to the Count-DukeOlivarez, and remember he is the favourite of Spain; or, if Olivarezwill show honourable civility to my lord marquis, remembering he is thefavourite of England, the wooing may be prosperous: but if my lordmarquis should forget where he is, and not stoop to Olivarez; or, ifOlivarez, forgetting what guest he hath received with the prince, bearhimself like a Castilian grandee to my lord marquis, the provocation maycross your majesty's good intentions. "[232] What Olivarez once let out, "though somewhat in hot blood, that in the councils of the king theEnglish match had never been taken into consideration, but from the timeof the Prince of Wales's arrival at Madrid, " might have been trueenough. The seven years which had passed in apparent negotiationresembled the scene of a _fata morgana_, --an earth painted in the air, raised by the delusive arts of Gondomar and Olivarez. As they neverdesigned to realise it, it would of course never have been brought intothe councils of his Spanish majesty. Buckingham discovered, as he toldGerbier, that the Infanta, by the will of her father, Philip the Third, was designed for the emperor's son, --the catholic for the catholic, tocement the venerable system. When Buckingham and Charles had nowascertained that the Spanish cabinet could not adopt English andprotestant interests, and Olivarez had convinced himself that Charleswould never be a Catholic, all was broken up; and thus a treaty ofmarriage, which had been slowly reared during a period of seven years, when the flower seemed to take, only contained within itself the seedsof war. [233]

Olivarez and Richelieu were thorough-paced statesmen, in every respectthe opposites of the elegant, the spirited, and the open Buckingham. TheEnglish favourite checked the haughty Castilian, the favourite of Spain, and the more than king-like cardinal, the favourite of France, with therival spirit of his island, proud of her equality with the continent. 

There is a story that the war between England and France was occasionedby the personal disrespect shown by the Cardinal-Duke Richelieu to theEnglish Duke, in the affronting mode of addressing his letters. Gerbiersays, the world are in a ridiculous mistake about this circumstance. Thefact of the letters is true, since Gerbier was himself the secretary onthis occasion. It terminated, however, differently than is known. Richelieu, at least as haughty as Buckingham, addressed a letter, in amoment of caprice, in which the word Monsieur was level with the firstline, avoiding the usual space of honour, to mark his disrespect. Buckingham instantly turned on the cardinal his own invention. Gerbier, who had written the letter, was also its bearer. The cardinal started atthe first sight, never having been addressed with such familiarity, andwas silent. On the following day, however, the cardinal received Gerbiercivilly, and, with many rhetorical expressions respecting the duke: "Iknow, " said he, "the power and greatness of a high admiral of England;the _cannons_ of his great ships make way, and prescribe law moreforcibly than the _canons_ of the church, of which I am a member. Iacknowledge the power of the favourites of great kings, and I am contentto be a minister of state, and the duke's humble servant. " This was anapology made with all the _politesse_ of a Gaul, and by a greatstatesman who had recovered his senses. 

If ever minister of state was threatened by the prognostics of a fataltermination to his life, it was Buckingham; but his own fearlessnessdisdained to interpret them. The following circumstances, collected frommanuscript letters of the times, are of this nature. After the suddenand unhappy dissolution of the parliament, popular terror showed itselfin all shapes; and those who did not join in the popular cry werebranded with the odious nickname of _the dukelings_. 

A short time before the assassination of Buckingham, when the king, after an obstinate resistance, had conceded his assent to the "Petitionof Right, " the houses testified their satisfaction, perhaps theirtriumph, by their shouts of acclamation. They were propagated by thehearers on the outside, from one to the other, till they reached thecity. Some confused account arrived before the occasion of theserejoicings was generally known. Suddenly the bells began to ring;bonfires were kindled; and in an instant all was a scene of publicrejoicing. But ominous indeed were these rejoicings; for the greaterpart was occasioned by a false rumour that the duke was to be sent tothe Tower. No one inquired about a news which every one wished to hear;and so sudden was the joy, that a MS. Letter says, "the old scaffold onTower-hill was pulled down and burned by certain unhappy boys, who saidthey would have a new one built for the duke. " This mistake so rapidlyprevailed as to reach even the country, which blazed with bonfires toannounce the fall of Buckingham. [234] The shouts on the acquittal of theseven bishops, in 1688, did not speak in plainer language to the son'sear, when, after the verdict was given, such prodigious acclamations ofjoy "seemed to set the king's authority at defiance; it spread itselfnot only into the city, but even to Hounslow Heath, where the soldiers, upon the news of it, gave up a great shout, though the king was thenactually at dinner in the camp. "[235] To the speculators of humannature, who find its history written in their libraries, how many plainlessons seem to have been lost on the mere politician, who is only suchin the heat of action!

About a month before the duke was assassinated, occurred the murder, bythe populace, of the man who was called "the duke's devil. " This was aDr. Lambe, a man of infamous character, a dealer in magical arts, wholived by showing apparitions, or selling the favours of the devil, andwhose chambers were a convenient rendezvous for the curious of bothsexes. This wretched man, who openly exulted in the infamous traffic bywhich he lived, when he was sober, prophesied that he should fall oneday by the hands from which he received his death; and it was said hewas as positive about his patron's. At the age of eighty, he was torn topieces in the city; and the city was imprudently heavily fined£6000[236] for not delivering up those who, in murdering this hoaryculprit, were heard to say, that they would handle his master worse, andwould have minced his flesh, and have had every one a bit of him. Thisis one more instance of the political cannibalism of the mob. The fateof Dr. Lambe served for a ballad; and the printer and singer were laidin Newgate. [237] Buckingham, it seems, for a moment contemplated his ownfate in his wretched creature's, more particularly as another omenobtruded itself on his attention; for, on the very day of Dr. Lambe'smurder, his own portrait in the council-chamber was seen to have fallenout of its frame, --a circumstance as awful, in that age of omens, as theportrait that walked from its frame in the "Castle of Otranto, " butperhaps more easily accounted for. On the eventful day of Dr. Lambe'sbeing torn to pieces by the mob, a circumstance occurred to Buckingham, somewhat remarkable to show the spirit of the times. The king and theduke were in the Spring Gardens, looking on the bowlers; the duke puton his hat; one Wilson, a Scotchman, first kissing the duke's hands, snatched it off, saying, "Off with your hat before the king. "Buckingham, not apt to restrain his quick feelings, kicked theScotchman; but the king interfering, said, "Let him alone, George; he iseither mad or a fool. " "No, sir, " replied the Scotchman, "I am a soberman; and if your majesty would give me leave, I will tell you that ofthis man which many know, and none dare speak. " This was, as aprognostic, an anticipation of the dagger of Felton!

About this time a libel was taken down from a post in Coleman-street bya constable and carried to the lord-mayor, who ordered it to bedelivered to none but his majesty. Of this libel the manuscript lettercontains the following particulars:--

 /P Who rules the kingdom? The king. Who rules the king? The duke. Who rules the duke? The devil. P/

 Let the duke look to it; for they intend shortly to use him worse than they did the doctor; and if things be not shortly reformed they will work a reformation themselves. 

The only advice the offended king suggested was to set a double watchevery night! A watch at a post to prevent a libel being affixed to itwas no prevention of libels being written, and the fact is, libels werenow bundled and sent to fairs, to be read by those who would venture toread to those who would venture to listen; both parties were often sentto prison. [238] It was about this time, after the sudden dissolution ofthe parliament, that popular terror showed itself in various shapes, and the spirit which then broke out in libels by night was assuredly thesame, which, if these political prognostics had been rightly construedby Charles, might have saved the eventual scene of blood. But neitherthe king nor his favourite had yet been taught to respect popularfeelings. Buckingham, after all, was guilty of no heavy politicalcrimes; but it was his misfortune to have been a prime minister, asClarendon says, "in a busy, querulous, froward time, when the peoplewere uneasy under pretensions of reformation, with some petulantdiscourses of liberty, which their great impostors scattered among themlike glasses to multiply their fears. " It was an age, which waspreparing for a great contest, where both parties committed greatfaults. The favourite did not appear odious in the eyes of the king, whoknew his better dispositions more intimately than the popular party, whowere crying him down. And Charles attributed to individuals, and "thegreat impostors, " the clamours which had been raised. 

But the plurality of offices showered on Buckingham rendered him stillmore odious to the people:[239] had he not been created lord highadmiral and general, he had never risked his character amidst theopposing elements, or before impregnable forts. But something more thanhis own towering spirit, or the temerity of vanity, must be alleged forhis assumption of those opposite military characters. [240]

A peace of twenty years appears to have rusted the arms of our soldiers, and their commanders were destitute of military skill. The war withSpain was clamoured for; and an expedition to Cadiz, in which the dukewas reproached by the people for not taking the command, as theysupposed from deficient spirit, only ended in our undisciplined soldiersunder bad commanders getting drunk in the Spanish cellars, insomuchthat not all had the power to run away. On this expedition, some verseswere handed about, which probably are now first printed, from amanuscript letter of the times; a political pasquinade which shows theutter silliness of this "Ridiculus Mus. "

 VERSES ON THE EXPEDITION TO CADIZ. 

 There was a crow sat on a stone, He flew away--and there was none! There was a man that run a race, When he ran fast--he ran apace! There was a maid that eat an apple, When she eat two--she eat a couple! There was an ape sat on a tree, When he fell down--then down fell he! There was a fleet that went to Spain, When it returned--it came again!

Another expedition to Rochelle, under the Earl of Denbigh, was indeed ofa more sober nature, for the earl declined to attack the enemy. Thenational honour, among the other grievances of the people, had been longdegraded; not indeed by Buckingham himself, who personally had evermaintained, by his high spirit, an equality, if not a superiority, withFrance and Spain. It was to win back the public favour by a resolved andpublic effort, that Buckingham a second time was willing to pledge hisfortune, his honour, and his life, into one daring cast, and on the dykeof Rochelle to leave his body, or to vindicate his aspersed name. Thegarrulous Gerbier shall tell his own story, which I transcribe from hisown hand-writing, of the mighty preparations, and the duke's perfectdevotion to the cause; for among other rumours, he was calumniated asnever having been faithful to his engagement with the protestants ofRochelle. 

"The duke caused me to make certain works, according to the same modelas those wherewith the Prince of Parma blew up, before Antwerp, the maindyke and estacado; they were so mighty strong, and of that quantity ofpowder, and so closely masoned in barks, that they might have blown upthe half of a town. I employed therein of powder, stone-quarries, bombs, fire-balls, chains, and iron-balls, a double proportion to that used bythe Duke of Parma, according to the description left thereof. "[241]

"The duke's intention to succour the Rochellers was manifest, as was hiscare to assure them of it. He commanded me to write and to convey tothem the secret advertisement thereof. The last advice I gave them fromhim contained these words, 'Hold out but three weeks, and God willing Iwill be with you, either to overcome or to die there. ' The bearer ofthis received from my hands a hundred Jacobuses to carry it with speedand safety. " The duke had disbursed threescore thousand pounds of hismoney upon the fleet; and lost his life ere he could get aboard. Nothingbut death had hindered him or frustrated his design, of which I amconfident by another very remarkable passage. "The duke, a little beforehis departure from York House, being alone with me in his garden, andgiving me his last commands for my journey towards Italy and Spain, oneMr. Wigmore, a gentleman of his, coming to us, presented to his lordshipa paper, said to have come from the prophesying Lady _Davers_, [242]foretelling that he should end his life that month; besides, he hadreceived a letter from a very considerable hand, persuading him to letsome other person be sent on that expedition to command in his place; onwhich occasion the duke made this expression to me: 'Gerbier, if Godplease, I will go, and be the first man who shall set his foot upon thedyke before Rochel to die, or do the work, whereby the world shall seethe reality of our intentions for the relief of that place. ' He hadbefore told me the same in his closet, after he had signed certaindespatches of my letters of credence to the Duke of Lorraine and Savoy, to whom I was sent to know what diversion they could make in favour ofthe king, in case the peace with Spain should not take. His majestyspake to me, on my going towards my residency at Bruxelles--'Gerbier, Ido command thee to have a continual care, to press the Infanta and theSpanish ministers there, for the restitution of the Palatinate; for I amobliged in conscience, in honour, and in maxim of state, to stir all thepowers of the world, rather than to fail to try to the uttermost tocompass this business. '"

In the week of that expedition, the king took "George" with him in hiscoach to view the ships at Deptford on their departure for Rochelle, when he said to the duke, "George, there are some that wish both theseand thou mightest perish together; but care not for them; we will bothperish together, if thou doest!"

A few days before the duke went on his last expedition, he gave afarewell masque and supper at York-house to their majesties. In themasque the duke appeared followed by Envy, with many open-mouthed dogs, which were to represent the barkings of the people, while next came Fameand Truth; and the court allegory expressed the king's sentiment and theduke's sanguine hope. 

Thus resolutely engaged in the very cause the people had so much atheart, the blood Buckingham would have sealed it with was shed by one ofthe people themselves; the enterprise, designed to retrieve the nationalhonour, long tarnished, was prevented; and the Protestant cause sufferedby one who imagined himself to be, and was blest by nearly the wholenation as, a patriot! Such are the effects of the exaggerations ofpopular delusion. 

I find the following epitaph on Buckingham in a manuscript letter of thetimes. Its condensed bitterness of spirit gives the popular idea of hisunfortunate attempts. 

 THE DUKE'S EPITAPH. 

 If idle trav'llers ask who lieth here, Let the duke's tomb this for inscription bear; Paint Cales and Rhé, make French and Spanish laugh; Mix England's shame--and there's his epitaph!

Before his last fatal expedition, among the many libels which abounded, I have discovered a manuscript satire, entitled "Rhodomontados. "[243]The thoughtless minister is made to exult in his power over thegiddy-headed multitude. Buckingham speaks in his own person; and we havehere preserved those false rumours and those aggravated feelings thenfloating among the people: a curious instance of those heaped upcalumnies which are often so heavily laid on the head of a primeminister, no favourite with the people. 

 'Tis not your threats shall take me from the king!-- Nor questioning my counsels and commands, How with the honour of the state it stands; That I lost Rhé and with such loss of men, As scarcely time can e'er repair again; Shall aught affright me; or the care to see The narrow seas from Dunkirk clear and free; Or that you can enforce the king believe, I from the pirates a third share receive; Or that I correspond with foreign states (Whether the king's foes or confederates) To plot the ruin of the king and state, As erst you thought of the Palatinate; Or that five hundred thousand pounds doth lie In the Venice bank to help Spain's majesty; Or that three hundred thousand more doth rest In Dunkirk, for the arch-duchess to contest With England, whene'er occasion offers; Or that by rapine I fill up my coffers; Nor that an office in church, state, or court, Is freely given, but they must pay me for't. Nor shall you ever prove I had a hand In poisoning of the monarch of this land, Or the like hand by poisoning to intox Southampton, Oxford, Hamilton, Lennox. Nor shall you ever prove by magic charms, I wrought the king's affection or his harms. Nor fear I if ten Vitrys now were here, Since I have thrice ten Ravilliacs as near. My power shall be unbounded in each thing, If once I use these words, "I and the king. " Seem wise, and cease then to perturb the realm, Or strive with him that sits and guides the helm. I know your reading will inform you soon, What creatures they were, that barkt against the moon. I'll give you better counsel as a friend: Cobblers their latchets ought not to transcend; Meddle with common matters, common wrongs; To the House of Commons common things belongs. Leave him the oar that best knows how to row, And state to him that best the state doth know. If I by industry, deep reach, or grace, Am now arriv'd at this or that great place, Must I, to please your inconsiderate rage, Throw down mine honours? Will nought else assuage Your furious wisdoms? True shall the verse be yet-- There's no less wit required to keep, than get. Though Lambe be dead, I'll stand, and you shall see I'll smile at them that can but bark at me. 

After Buckingham's death, Charles the First cherished his memory aswarmly as his life, advanced his friends, and designed to raise amagnificent monument to his memory;[244] and if any one accused theduke, the king always imputed the fault to himself. The king said, "Letnot the duke's enemies seek to catch at any of his offices, for theywill find themselves deceived. " Charles called Buckingham "his martyr!"and often said the world was much mistaken in the duke's character; forit was commonly thought the duke ruled his majesty; but it was much thecontrary, having been his most faithful and obedient servant in allthings, as the king said he would make sensibly appear to the world. Indeed, after the death of Buckingham, Charles showed himself extremelyactive in business. Lord Dorchester wrote--"The death of Buckinghamcauses no changes; the king holds in his own hands the total direction, leaving the executory part to every man within the compass of hischarge. "[245] This is one proof, among many, that Charles the First wasnot the puppet-king of Buckingham, as modern historians have imagined. 

FELTON, THE POLITICAL ASSASSIN. 

Felton, the assassin of the Duke of Buckingham, by the growingrepublican party was hailed as a Brutus, rising, in the style of apatriotic bard, Refulgent from the stroke. --AKENSIDE. 

Gibbon has thrown a shade of suspicion even over Brutus's "god-likestroke, " as Pope has exalted it. In Felton, a man acting from mixed andconfused motives, the political martyr is entirely lost in the contritepenitent; he was, however, considered in his own day as a being almostbeyond humanity. Mrs. Macaulay has called him a "lunatic, " because theduke had not been assassinated on the right principle. His motivesappeared even inconceivable to his contemporaries; for Sir HenryWotton, who has written a Life of the Duke of Buckingham, observes, that"what may have been the immediate or greatest motive of that feloniousconception (the duke's assassination) is even yet in the clouds. " Afterascertaining that it was not private revenge, he seems to conclude thatit was Dr. Eglisham's furious "libel, " and the "remonstrance" of theparliament, which, having made the duke "one of the foulest monsters onearth, " worked on the dark imagination of Felton. 

From Felton's memorable example, and some similar ones, one observationoccurs worth the notice of every minister of state who dares the popularodium he has raised. Such a minister will always be in present danger ofa violent termination to his career; for however he may be convincedthat there is not political virtue enough in a whole people to afford"the god-like stroke, " he will always have to dread the arm of somemelancholy enthusiast, whose mind, secretly agitated by the publicindignation, directs itself solely on him. It was some time after havingwritten this reflection, that I discovered the following notice of theDuke of Buckingham in the unpublished Life of Sir Symonds D'Ewes. "Someof his friends had advised him how generally he was hated in England, and how needful it would be for his greater safety to wear some coat ofmail, or some other secret defensive armour, which the duke slighting, said, 'It needs not; there are no Roman spirits left. '"[246]

An account of the contemporary feelings which sympathised with Felton, and almost sanctioned the assassin's deed, I gather from the MS. Lettersof the times. The public mind, through a long state of discontent, hadbeen prepared for, and not without an obscure expectation of, the mortalend of Buckingham. It is certain the duke received many warnings whichhe despised. The assassination kindled a tumult of joy throughout thenation, and a state-libel was written in strong characters in the facesof the people. [247] The passage of Felton to London, after theassassination, seemed a triumph. Now pitied, and now blessed, mothersheld up their children to behold the saviour of the country; and an oldwoman exclaimed, as Felton passed her, with a scriptural allusion to hisshort stature, and the mightiness of Buckingham, "God bless thee, littleDavid!" Felton was nearly sainted before he reached the metropolis. Hishealth was the reigning toast among the republicans. A character, somewhat remarkable, Alexander Gill (usher under his father, Dr. Gill, master of St. Paul's school), who was the tutor of Milton, and his dearfriend afterwards, and perhaps from whose impressions in early lifeMilton derived his vehement hatred of Charles, was committed by theStar-chamber, heavily fined, and sentenced to lose his ears, [248] onthree charges, one of which arose from drinking a health to Felton. AtTrinity College Gill said that the king was fitter to stand in aCheapside shop, with an apron before him, and say, _What lack ye?_ thanto govern a kingdom; that the duke was gone down to hell to see kingJames; and drinking a health to Felton, added he was sorry Felton haddeprived him of the honour of doing that brave act. [249] In the taste ofthat day, they contrived a political anagram of his name, to express theimmovable self-devotion he showed after the assassination, neverattempting to escape; and John Felton, for the nonce, was made to read, _Noh! flie not!_

But while Felton's name was echoing through the kingdom, our new Brutuswas at this moment exhibiting a piteous spectacle of remorse; sodifferent often is the real person himself from the ideal personage ofthe public. The assassination, with him, was a sort of theoretical one, depending, as we shall show, on four propositions; so that when theking's attorney, as the attorney-general was then called, had furnishedthe unhappy criminal with an unexpected argument, which appeared to himto have overturned his, he declared that he had been in a mistake; andlamenting that he had not been aware of it before, from that instant hisconscientious spirit sunk into despair. In the open court he stretchedout his arm, offering it as the offending instrument to be first cutoff; he requested the king's leave to wear sackcloth about his loins, to sprinkle ashes on his head, to carry a halter about his neck, intestimony of repentance; and that he might sink to the lowest point ofcontrition, he insisted on asking pardon not only of the duchess, theduke's mother, but even of the duke's scullion-boy; and a man naturallybrave was seen always shedding tears, so that no one could have imaginedthat Felton had been "a stout soldier. " These particulars were given byone of the divines who attended him, to the writer of the MS. Letter. [250]

The character of Felton must not, however, be conceived from thisagonising scene of contrition. Of melancholy and retired habits, and oneof those thousand officers who had incurred disappointments, both inpromotion and in arrears of pay, from the careless duke, he felt, perhaps, although he denied it, a degree of personal animosity towardshim. A solitary man who conceives himself injured broods over hisrevenge. Felton once cut off a piece of his own finger, inclosing it ina challenge, to convince the person whom he addressed that he valued notendangering his whole body, provided it afforded him an opportunity ofvengeance. [251] Yet with all this, such was his love of truth and rigidhonour, that Felton obtained the nickname of "honest Jack, " one which, after the assassination, became extremely popular through the nation. The religious enthusiasm of the times had also deeply possessed hismind, and that enthusiasm, as is well known, was of a nature that mighteasily occasion its votary to be mistaken for a republican. 

Clarendon mentions that in his hat he had sewed a paper, in which werewritten a few lines of that remonstrance of the Commons, which appearedto him to sanction the act. I have seen a letter from Sir D. Carleton tothe queen, detailing the particulars; his lordship was one of those whosaved Felton from the swords of the military around him, who in theirvexation for the loss of their general the duke, which they consideredto be the end of the war, and their ruin, would have avengedthemselves. But though Felton, in conversation with Sir D. Carleton, confessed that by reading the remonstrance of the parliament it cameinto his head, that in committing the act of killing the duke he shoulddo his country a great good service; yet the paper sewed in his hat, thinking he might have fallen a victim in the attempt, was differentfrom that described by Clarendon, and is thus preserved in this letterto the queen by Sir D. Carleton. "If I be slain, let no man condemn me, but rather condemn himself. Our hearts are hardened, and becomesenseless, or else he had not gone so long unpunished. [252] He isunworthy the name of a gentleman or soldier, in my opinion, that isafraid to sacrifice his life for the honour of God, his king, andcountry. JOHN FELTON". [253]

Felton's mind had however previously passed through a more evangelicalprocess: four theological propositions struck the knife into the heartof the minister. The conscientious assassin, however, accompanied thefatal blow with a prayer to Heaven, to have mercy on the soul of thevictim; and never was a man murdered with more gospel than the duke. Thefollowing curious document I have discovered in the MS. Letter. 

Propositions found in Felton's trunk, at the time he slew the duke. 

"1. There is no alliance nearer to any one than his country. 

"Except his God and his own soul, said the divines. 

"2. The safety of the people is the chiefest law. 

"Next to the law of God, said these divines. 

"3. No law is more sacred than the safety and welfare of thecommonwealth. 

"Only God's law is more sacred, said the divines. 

"4. God himself hath enacted this law, that all things that are for thegood profit and benefit of the commonwealth should be lawful. 

"The divines said, We must not do evil that good may come thereon. "

The gradual rise in these extraordinary propositions, with the lastsweeping one, which includes everything lawless as lawful for the commonweal, was at least but feebly parried by the temperate divines, who, while they were so reasonably referring everything to God, wanted thevulgar curiosity to inquire, or the philosophical discernment todiscover, that Felton's imagination was driving everything at the duke. Could they imagine that these were but subtle cobwebs, spun by a closetspeculation on human affairs? In those troubled times did they not givea thought to the real object of these inquiries? or did they not carewhat befel a minion of the state?

There is one bright passage in the history of this unhappy man, who, when broken down in spirits, firmly asserted the rights of a Briton; andeven the name of John Felton may fill a date in the annals of ourconstitutional freedom. 

Felton was menaced with torture. Rushworth has noticed the fact, andgiven some imperfect notes of his speech, when threatened to be racked;but the following is not only more ample, but more important in itsessential particulars. When Lord Dorset told him (says the MS. Letter)"Mr. Felton, it is the king's pleasure that you should be put to thetorture, to make you confess your accomplices, and therefore prepareyourself for the rack:"--Felton answered, "My lord, I do not believethat it is the king's pleasure, for he is a just and a gracious prince, and will not have his subjects _tortured against law_. I do affirm uponmy salvation that my purpose was not known to any man living; but if itbe his majesty's pleasure, I am ready to suffer whatever his majestywill have inflicted upon me. Yet this I must tell you, by the way, thatif I be put upon the rack, I will accuse you, my lord of Dorset, andnone but yourself. "[254] This firm and sensible speech silenced them. Acouncil was held; the judges were consulted; and on this occasion theycame to a very unexpected decision, that "Felton ought not to betortured by the rack, for no such punishment is known or allowed by ourlaw. " Thus the judges condemned what the government had constantlypractised. Blackstone yields a fraternal eulogium to the honour of thejudges on this occasion; but Hume more philosophically discovers thecause of this sudden tenderness. "So much more exact reasoners, withregard to law, had they become from _the jealous scruples of the Houseof Commons_. " An argument which may be strengthened from cases which areunknown to the writers of our history. Not two years before the presentone, a Captain Brodeman, one who had distinguished himself among the"bold speakers" concerning the king and the duke, had been sent to theTower, and was reported to have expired on the rack; the death seemsdoubtful, but the fact of his having been racked is repeated in the MS. Letters of the times. The rack has been more frequently used as a stateengine than has reached the knowledge of our historians: secret havebeen the deadly embraces of the Duke of Exeter's daughter. [255] It wasonly by an original journal of the transactions in the Tower that Burnetdiscovered the racking of Anne Askew, a narrative of horror! James theFirst incidentally mentions in his account of the powder-plot that thisrack was _shown_ to Guy Fawkes during his examination; and yet underthis prince, mild as his temper was, it had been used in a terrificmanner. [256] Elizabeth but too frequently employed this engine ofarbitrary power; once she had all the servants of the Duke of Norfolktortured. I have seen in a MS. Of the times heads of charges madeagainst some members of the House of Commons in Elizabeth's reign, amongwhich is one for having written against torturing! Yet Coke, the mosteminent of our lawyers, extols the mercy of Elizabeth in the trials ofEssex and Southampton, because she had not used torture against theiraccomplices or witnesses. Was it for the head of law itself, as Cokewas, to extol the _mercy_ of the sovereign for not violating the laws, for not punishing the subject by an illegal act? The truth is, lawyersare rarely philosophers; the history of the heart, read only in statutesand law cases, presents the worst side of human nature: they are apt toconsider men as wild beasts; and they have never spoken with any greatabhorrence of what they so erroneously considered a means of obtainingconfession. Long after these times, Sir George Mackenzie, a great lawyerin the reign of James the Second, used torture in Scotland. We have seenhow the manly spirit of Felton, and the scruples of the Commons, wrenched the hidden law from judges who had hitherto been too silent;and produced that unexpected avowal, which condemned all their formerpractices. But it was reserved for better times, when philosophycombining with law, enabled the genius of Blackstone to quote withadmiration the exquisite ridicule of torture by Beccaria. 

On a rumour that Felton was condemned to suffer torture, an effusion ofpoetry, the ardent breathings of a pure and youthful spirit, wasaddressed to the supposed political martyr, by Zouch Townley, [257] ofthe ancient family of the Townleys in Lancashire, to whose lastdescendant the nation owes the first public collection of ancientart. [258]

The poem I transcribe from a MS. Copy of the time; it appears only tohave circulated in that secret form, for the writer being summoned tothe Star-chamber, and not willing to have any such poem addressed tohimself, escaped to the Hague. 

 TO HIS CONFINED FRIEND, MR. JO. FELTON. 

 Enjoy thy bondage, make thy prison know Thou hast a liberty, thou canst not owe To those base punishments; keep't entire, since Nothing but guilt shackles the conscience. I dare not tempt thy valiant blood to whey, Enfeebling it to pity; nor dare pray Thy act may mercy finde, least thy great story Lose somewhat of its miracle and glory. I wish thy merit, laboured cruelty; Stout vengeance best befits thy memory. For I would have posterity to hear, He that can bravely do, can bravely bear. Tortures may seem great in a coward's eye; It's no great thing to suffer, less to die. Should all the clouds fall out, and in that strife, Lightning and thunder send to take my life, I would applaud the wisdom of my fate, Which knew to value me at such a rate, As at my fall to trouble all the sky, Emptying upon me Jove's full armoury. Serve in your sharpest mischiefs; use your rack, Enlarge each joint, and make each sinew crack; Thy soul before was straitened; thank thy doom, To show her virtue she hath larger room. Yet sure if every artery were broke, Thou wouldst find strength for such another stroke. And now I leave thee unto Death and Fame, Which lives to shake Ambition with thy name; And if it were not sin, the court by it Should hourly swear before the favourite. Farewell! for thy brave sake we shall not send Henceforth commanders, enemies to defend; Nor will it ever our just monarch please, To keep an admiral to lose our seas. Farewell! undaunted stand, and joy to be Of public service the epitome. Let the duke's name solace and crown thy thrall; All we by him did suffer, thou for all! And I dare boldly write, as thou dar'st die, Stout Felton, England's ransom, here doth lie![259]

This is to be a great poet. Felton, who was celebrated in such elevatedstrains, was, at that moment, not the patriot but the penitent. Inpolitical history it frequently occurs that the man who accidentally haseffectuated the purpose of a party, is immediately invested by them withall their favourite virtues; but in reality having acted from motivesoriginally insignificant and obscure, his character may be quite thereverse they have made him; and such was that of our "honest Jack. " HadTownley had a more intimate acquaintance with his Brutus, we might havelost a noble poem on a noble subject. 

JOHNSON'S HINTS FOR THE LIFE OF POPE. 

I shall preserve a literary curiosity, which perhaps is the only one ofits kind. It is an original memorandum of Dr. Johnson's, of hints forthe Life of Pope, written down, as they were suggested to his mind, inthe course of his researches. The lines in Italics Johnson had scratchedwith red ink, probably after having made use of them. These notes shouldbe compared with the Life itself. The youthful student will find someuse, and the curious be gratified, in discovering the gradual labours ofresearch and observation, and that art of seizing on those generalconceptions which afterwards are developed by meditation and illustratedby genius. I once thought of accompanying these _hints_ by the amplifiedand finished passages derived from them; but this is an amusement whichthe reader can contrive for himself. I have extracted the most materialnotes. 

This fragment is a companion-piece to the engraved fac-simile of a pageof Pope's Homer, in this volume. 

That fac-simile, a minutely perfect copy of the manuscript, was notgiven to show the autograph of Pope, --a practice which has since sogenerally prevailed, --but to exhibit to the eye of the student thefervour and the diligence required in every work of genius. This couldonly be done by showing the state of the manuscript itself, with all itserasures, and even its half-formed lines; nor could this effect beproduced by giving only some of the corrections, which Johnson hadalready, in printed characters. My notion has been approved of, becauseit was comprehended by writers of genius: yet this fac-simile has beenconsidered as nothing more than an autograph by those literaryblockheads, who, without taste and imagination, intruding into theprovince of literature, find themselves as awkward as a once populardivine, in his "Christian Life, " assures us certain sinners would inparadise, --like "pigs in a drawing-room. "

 POPE. 

 Nothing occasional. No haste. No rivals. No compulsion. Practised only one form of verse. Facility from use. Emulated former pieces. Cooper's-hill. Dryden's ode. Affected to disdain flattery. _Not happy in his selection of patrons_. _Cobham, Bolingbroke_. [260] _Cibber's abuse will be better to him than a dose of hartshorn_. Poems long delayed. Satire and praise late, alluding to something past. He had always some poetical plan in his head. [261] Echo to the sense. Would not constrain himself too much. Felicities of language. Watts. [262] Luxury of language. _Motives to study; want of health, want of money; helps to study; some small patrimony_. _Prudent and frugal_; pint of wine. 

 LETTERS. 

 Amiable disposition--but he gives his own character. _Elaborate. Think what to say--say what one thinks. Letter on sickness to Steele_. _On Solitude. Ostentatious benevolence. Professions of sincerity_. _Neglect of fame. Indifference about everything_. _Sometimes gay and airy, sometimes sober and grave_. _Too proud of living among the great_. Probably forward to make acquaintance. _No literary man ever talked so much of his fortune. Grotto. Importance. Post-office, letters open_. _Cant of despising the world_. _Affectation of despising poetry_. _His easiness about the critics. _. _Something of foppery_. _His letters to the ladies--pretty_. _Abuse of Scripture--not all early_. Thoughts in his letters that are elsewhere. 

 ESSAY ON MAN. 

 _Ramsay missed the fall of man_. _Others the immortality of the soul. Address to our Saviour_. _Excluded by Berkeley_. _Bolingbroke's notions not understood_. Scale of Being _turn it in prose_. Part and not the whole always said. _Conversation with Bol_. R. 220. [263] _Bol. Meant ill. Pope well_. _Crousaz. Resnel. Warburton_. _Good sense. Luxurious--felicities of language. Wall_. _Loved labour--always poetry in his head_. _Extreme sensibility. Ill-health, headaches_. _He never laughed_. _No conversation_. _No writings against Swift_. Parasitical epithets. Six lines of Iliad. [264] _He used to set down what occurred of thoughts--a line--a couplet. _ The humorous lines end sinner. Prunello. [265] First line made for the sound, or v. Versa. Foul lines in Jervas. _More notices of books early than late_. 

 DUNCIAD. 

 The line on Phillips borrowed from another poem. Pope did not increase the difficulties of writing. _Poetæpulorum_. 

MODERN LITERATURE--BAYLE'S CRITICAL DICTIONARY

A new edition of Bayle in France is an event in literary history whichcould not have been easily predicted. Every work which creates an epochin literature is one of the great monuments of the human mind; and Baylemay be considered as the father of literary curiosity, and of modernliterature. Much has been alleged against our author: yet let us becareful to preserve what is precious. Bayle is the inventor of a workwhich dignified a collection of facts constituting his text, by theargumentative powers and the copious illustrations which charm us in hisdiversified commentary. Conducting the humble pursuits of an AulusGellius and an Athenæus with a high spirit, he showed us the _philosophyof Books_, and communicated to such limited researches a value whichthey had otherwise not possessed. 

This was introducing a study perfectly distinct from what ispre-eminently distinguished as "classical learning, " and the subjectswhich had usually entered into philological pursuits. Ancientliterature, from century to century, had constituted the sole labours ofthe learned; and "variæ lectiones" were long their pride and theirreward. Latin was the literary language of Europe. The vernacular idiomin Italy was held in such contempt that their youths were not sufferedto read Italian books, their native productions. Varchi tells a curiousanecdote of his father sending him to prison, where he was kept on breadand water, as a penance for his inveterate passion for reading Italianbooks! Dante was reproached by the Italians for composing in hismother-tongue, still expressed by the degrading designation of _ilvolgare_, which the "resolute" John Florio renders "to make common;" andto translate was contemptuously called _volgarizzare_. Petrarch restedhis fame on his Latin poetry, and called his Italian _nugellasvulgares_! With us Roger Ascham was the first who boldly avowed "_Tospeak as the common people_, to think as wise men;" yet, so late as thetime of Bacon, this great man did not consider his "Moral Essays" aslikely to last in the moveable sands of a modern language, for he hasanxiously had them sculptured in the marble of ancient Rome. Yet whathad the great ancients themselves done, but trusted to their own_volgare_? The Greeks, the finest and most original writers of theancients, observes Adam Ferguson, "were unacquainted with every languagebut their own; and if they became learned, it was only by studying whatthey themselves had produced. "

During fourteen centuries, whatever lay out of the pale of classicallearning was condemned as barbarism; in the meanwhile, however, amidstthis barbarism, another literature was insensibly creating itself inEurope. Every people, in the gradual accessions of their vernaculargenius, discovered a new sort of knowledge, one which more deeplyinterested their feelings and the times, reflecting the image, not ofthe Greeks and the Latins, but of themselves! A spirit of inquiry, originating in events which had never reached the ancient world, and thesame refined taste in the arts of composition caught from the models ofantiquity, at length raised up rivals, who competed with the greatancients themselves; and modern literature now occupies a space whichappears as immensity, compared with the narrow and the imperfect limitsof the ancient. A complete collection of classical works, all the beesof antiquity, may be hived in a glass-case; but those we should findonly the milk and honey of our youth; to obtain the substantialnourishment of European knowledge, a library of ten thousand volumeswill not avail nor satisfy our inquiries, nor supply our researcheseven on a single topic!

Let not, however, the votaries of ancient literature dread its neglect, nor be over-jealous of their younger and Gothic sister. The existence oftheir favourite study is secured, as well by its own imperishableclaims, as by the stationary institutions of Europe. But one of thosesilent revolutions in the intellectual history of mankind, which are notso obvious as those in their political state, seems now fullyaccomplished. The very term "classical, " so long limited to the ancientauthors, is now equally applicable to the most elegant writers of everyliterary people; and although Latin and Greek were long characterised as"the learned languages, " yet we cannot in truth any longer concede thatthose are the most learned who are "inter Græcos Græcissimi, interLatinos Latinissimi, " any more than we can reject from the class of "thelearned, " those great writers, whose scholarship in the ancient classicsmay he very indifferent. The modern languages now have also becomelearned ones, when he who writes in them is imbued with their respectivelearning. He is a "learned" writer who has embraced most knowledge onthe particular subject of his investigation, as he is a "classical" onewho composes with the greatest elegance. Sir David Dalrymple dedicateshis "Memorials relating to the History of Britain" to the Earl ofHardwicke, whom he styles, with equal happiness and propriety, "Learnedin British History. " "Scholarship" has hitherto been a term reserved forthe adept in ancient literature, whatever may be the mediocrity of hisintellect; but the honourable distinction must be extended to all greatwriters in modern literature, if we would not confound the natural senseand propriety of things. 

Modern literature may, perhaps, still be discriminated from the ancient, by a term it began to be called by at the Reformation, that of "the NewLearning. " Without supplanting the ancient, the modern must grow up withit; the farther we advance in society, it will more deeply occupy ourinterests; and it has already proved what Bacon, casting hisphilosophical views retrospectively and prospectively, has observed, "that Time is the greatest of innovators. "

When Bayle projected his "Critical Dictionary, " he probably had no ideathat he was about effecting a revolution in our libraries, and foundinga new province in the dominion of human knowledge; creative geniusoften is itself the creature of its own age: it is but that reaction ofpublic opinion, which is generally the forerunner of some criticalchange, or which calls forth some want which sooner or later will besupplied. The predisposition for the various but neglected literature, and the curious but the scattered knowledge of the moderns, which hadlong been increasing, with the speculative turn of inquiry, prevailed inEurope when Bayle took his pen to give the thing itself a name and anexistence. But the great authors of modern Europe were not consecratedbeings, like the ancients, and their volumes were not read from thechairs of universities; yet the new interests which had arisen insociety, the new modes of human life, the new spread of knowledge, thecuriosity after even the little things which concern us, the revelationsof secret history, and the state-papers which have sometimes escapedfrom national archives, the philosophical spirit which was hastening itssteps and raising up new systems of thinking; all alike requiredresearch and criticism, inquiry and discussion. Bayle had first studiedhis own age before he gave the public his great work. 

"If Bayle, " says Gibbon, "wrote his Dictionary to empty the variouscollections he had made, without any particular design, he could nothave chosen a better plan. It permitted him everything, and obliged himto nothing. By the double freedom of a dictionary and of notes, he couldpitch on what articles he pleased, and say what he pleased in thosearticles. "

"_Jacta est alea!_" exclaimed Bayle, on the publication of hisDictionary, as yet dubious of the extraordinary enterprise; perhaps, while going on with the work, he knew not at times whither he wasdirecting his course; but we must think that in his own mind he countedon something which might have been difficult even for Bayle himself tohave developed. The author of the "Critical Dictionary" had produced avoluminous labour, which, to all appearance, could only rank him amongcompilers and reviewers, for his work is formed of such materials asthey might use. He had never studied any science; he confessed that hecould never demonstrate the first problem in Euclid, and to his last dayridiculed that sort of evidence called mathematical demonstration. Hehad but little taste for classical learning, for he quotes the Latinwriters curiously, not elegantly; and there is reason to suspect thathe had entirely neglected the Greek. Even the erudition of antiquityusually reached him by the ready medium of some German commentator. Hismultifarious reading was chiefly confined to the writers of thesixteenth and seventeenth centuries. With such deficiencies in hisliterary character, Bayle could not reasonably expect to obtainpre-eminence in any single pursuit. Hitherto his writings had notextricated him from the secondary ranks of literature, where he found arival at every step; and without his great work, the name of Bayle atthis moment had been buried among his controversialists, the rabidJurieu, the cloudy Jacquelot, and the envious Le Clerc; to these, indeed, he sacrificed too many of his valuable days, and was stillanswering them at the hour of his death. Such was the cloudy horizon ofthat bright fame which was to rise over Europe! Bayle, intent onescaping from all beaten tracks, while the very materials he usedpromised no novelty, for all his knowledge was drawn from old books, opened an eccentric route, where at least he could encounter noparallel; Bayle felt that if he could not stand alone, he would onlyhave been an equal by the side of another. Experience had more than oncetaught this mortifying lesson; but he was blest with the genius whichcould stamp an inimitable originality on a folio. 

This originality seems to have been obtained in this manner. Theexhausted topics of classical literature he resigned as a province notadapted to an ambitious genius; sciences he rarely touched on, andhardly ever without betraying superficial knowledge, and involvinghimself in absurdity: but in the history of men, in penetrating themotives of their conduct, in clearing up obscure circumstances, indetecting the strong and the weak parts of him whom he was trying, andin the cross-examination of the numerous witnesses he summoned, heassumed at once the judge and the advocate! Books are for him picturesof men's inventions, and the histories of their thoughts; any book, whatever be its quality, must be considered as an experiment of thehuman mind. 

In controversies, in which he was so ambidextrous--in the progress ofthe human mind, in which he was so philosophical--furnished, too, by hishoarding curiosity with an immense accumulation, of details, --skilful inthe art of detecting falsehoods amidst truths, and weighing probabilityagainst uncertainty--holding together the chain of argument from itsfirst principles to its remotest consequence--Bayle stands among thosemasters of the human intellect who taught us to think, and also tounthink! All, indeed, is a collection of researches and of reasonings:he had the art of melting down his curious quotations with his ownsubtile ideas. He collects everything; if truths, they enter into hishistory; if fictions, into discussions; he places the secret by the sideof the public story; opinion is balanced against opinion: if hisarguments grow tedious, a lucky anecdote or an enlivening tale relievesthe folio page; and knowing the infirmity of our nature, he picks uptrivial things to amuse us, while he is grasping the most abstract andponderous. Human nature in her shifting scenery, and the human mind inits eccentric directions, open on his view; so that an unknown person, or a worthless book, are equally objects for his speculation with themost eminent--they alike curiously instruct. Such were the materials, and such the genius of the man, whose folios, which seem destined forthe retired few, lie open on our parlour tables. The men of genius ofhis age studied them for instruction, the men of the world for theiramusement. Amidst the mass of facts which he has collected, and theenlarged views of human nature which his philosophical spirit hascombined with his researches, Bayle may be called the Shakspeare ofdictionary makers; a sort of chimerical being, whose existence was notimagined to be possible before the time of Bayle. 

But his errors are voluminous as his genius! and what do apologiesavail? Apologies only account for the evil which they cannot alter!

Bayle is reproached for carrying his speculations too far into the wildsof scepticism--he wrote in distempered times; he was witnessing the_dragonades_ and the _révocations_ of the Romish church; and he livedamidst the Reformed, or the French prophets, as we called them when theycame over to us, and in whom Sir Isaac Newton more than half believed. These testify that they had heard angels singing in the air, while ourphilosopher was convinced that he was living among men for whom no angelwould sing! Bayle had left persecutors to fly to fanatics, both equallyappealing to the Gospel, but alike untouched by its blessedness! Hisimpurities were a taste inherited from his favourite old writers, whose_naïveté_ seemed to sport with the grossness which it touched, andneither in France nor at home had the age then attained to our moraldelicacy: Bayle himself was a man without passions! His trivial matterswere an author's compliance with his bookseller's taste, which is alwaysthat of the public. His scepticism is said to have thrown everythinginto disorder. Is it a more positive evil to doubt than to dogmatise?Even Aristotle often pauses with a qualified _perhaps_, and the egotistCicero with a modest _it seems to me_. Bayle's scepticism has beenuseful in history, and has often shown how facts universally believedare doubtful, and sometimes must be false. Bayle, it is said, isperpetually contradicting himself; but a sceptic must doubt his doubts;he places the antidote close to the poison, and lays the sheath by thesword. Bayle has himself described one of those self-tormenting andmany-headed sceptics by a very noble figure, "He was a hydra who wasperpetually tearing himself. "

The time has now come when Bayle may instruct without danger. We havepassed the ordeals he had to go through; we must now consider him as thehistorian of our thoughts as well as of our actions; he dispenses theliterary stores of the moderns, in that vast repository of their wisdomand their follies, which, by its originality of design, has made him anauthor common to all Europe. Nowhere shall we find a rival for Bayle!and hardly even an imitator! He compared himself, for his power ofraising up, or dispelling objections and doubts, to "thecloud-compelling Jove. " The great Leibnitz, who was himself a lover ofhis _varia eruditio_, applied a line of Virgil to Bayle, characterisinghis luminous and elevated genius:--

 Sub pedibusque videt nubes et sidera Daphnis. Beneath his feet he views the clouds and stars!

CHARACTERISTICS OF BAYLE. 

To know Bayle as a man, we must not study him in the folio Life of DesMaizeaux, whose laborious pencil, without colour and without expression, loses, in its indistinctness, the individualising strokes of theportrait. Look for Bayle in his "Letters, " those true chronicles of aliterary man, when they record his own pursuits. 

The personal character of Bayle was unblemished even by calumny; hisexecutor, Basnage, never could mention him without tears! Withsimplicity which approached to an infantine nature, but with thefortitude of a stoic, our literary philosopher, from his earliest days, dedicated himself to literature; the great sacrifice consisted of thosetwo main objects of human pursuits, fortune and a family. Many anascetic, who has headed an order, has not so religiously abstained fromall worldly interests; yet let us not imagine that there was asullenness in his stoicism, --an icy misanthropy, which shuts up theheart from its ebb and flow. His domestic affections through life werefervid. When his mother desired to receive his portrait, he opened forher a picture of his heart! Early in life the mind of Bayle wasstrengthening itself by a philosophical resignation to all human events!

"I am indeed of a disposition neither to fear bad fortune nor to havevery ardent desires for good. Yet I lose this steadiness andindifference when I reflect that your love to me makes you feel foreverything that happens to me. It is therefore from the considerationthat my misfortunes would be a torment to you, that I wish to be happy;and when I think that my happiness would be all your joy, I shouldlament that my bad fortune should continue to persecute me; though, asto my own particular interest, I dare promise to myself that I shallnever be very much affected by it. "

An instance occurred of those social affections in which a stoic issometimes supposed to be deficient, which might have afforded abeautiful illustration to one of our most elegant poets. The remembranceof the happy moments which Bayle spent when young on the borders of theriver Auriège, a short distance from his native town of Carlat, where hehad been sent to recover from a fever occasioned by an excessiveindulgence in reading, induced him many years afterwards to devote anarticle to it in his "Critical Dictionary, " for the sake of quoting thepoet who had celebrated this obscure river. It was a "Pleasure ofMemory!" a tender association of domestic feeling!

The first step which Bayle took in life is remarkable. He changed hisreligion and became a catholic. A year afterwards he returned to thecreed of his fathers. Posterity might not have known the story, had itnot been recorded in his Diary. The circumstance is thus curiouslystated:--

 BAYLE'S DIARY. 

 Years of the Years Christian of my Æra age. 

 1669. Tues. , Mar. 19. 22. I changed my religion--next day I resumed the study of logic. 1670. Aug. 20. 23. I returned to the reformed religion, and made a private abjuration of the Romish religion, in the hands of four ministers. 

His brother was one of these ministers; while a catholic, Bayle hadattempted to convert him, by a letter long enough to evince hissincerity; but without his subscription we should not have ascribed itto Bayle. 

For this vacillation in his religion has Bayle endured bitter censure. Gibbon, who himself changed his about the same "year of his age, " andfor as short a period, sarcastically observes of the first entry, that"Bayle should have finished his logic before he changed his religion. "It may be retorted, that when he had learnt to reason, he renouncedCatholicism. The true fact is, that when Bayle had only studied a fewmonths at college, some books of controversial divinity by the catholicsoffered many a specious argument against the reformed doctrines. A youngstudent was easily entangled in the nets of the Jesuits. But theirpassive obedience, and their transubstantiation, and other stuff wovenin their looms, soon enabled such a man as Bayle to recover his senses. The promises and the caresses of the wily Jesuits were rejected; and thegush of tears of the brothers, on his return to the religion of hisfathers, is one of the most pathetic incidents of domestic life. 

Bayle was willing to become an expatriated man; to study, from the loveof study, in poverty and honour! It happens sometimes that great men arecriminated for their noblest deeds by both parties. 

When his great work appeared, the adversaries of Bayle reproached himwith haste, while the author expressed his astonishment at his slowness. At first, "The Critical Dictionary, " consisting only of two folios, wasfinished in little more than four years; but in the life of Bayle thiswas equivalent to a treble amount with men of ordinary application. Bayle even calculated the time of his headaches: "My megrims would haveleft me had it been in my power to have lived without study; by them Ilose many days in every month. " The fact is, that Bayle had entirelygiven up every sort of recreation except that delicious inebriation ofhis faculties, as we may term it for those who know what it is, which hedrew from his books. We have his avowal: "Public amusements, games, country jaunts, morning visits, and other recreations necessary to manystudents, as they tell us, were none of my business. I wasted no time onthem, nor in any domestic cares, --never soliciting for preferment, norbusied in any other way. I have been happily delivered from manyoccupations which were not suitable to my humour; and I have enjoyed thegreatest and the most charming leisure that a man of letters coulddesire. By such means an author makes a great progress in a few years. "

Bayle, at Rotterdam, was appointed to a professorship of philosophy andhistory; the salary was a competence to his frugal life, and enabled himto publish his celebrated Review, which he dedicates "to the glory ofthe city, " for _illa nobis hæc otia fecit_. 

After this grateful acknowledgment, he was unexpectedly deprived of theprofessorship. The secret history is curious. After a tedious war, someone amused the world by a chimerical "Project of Peace, " which was muchagainst the wishes and the designs of our William the Third. Jurieu, thehead of the Reformed party in Holland, a man of heated fancies, persuaded William's party that this book was a part of a secret cabal inEurope, raised by Louis the Fourteenth against William the Third; andaccused Bayle as the author and promoter of this political confederacy. The magistrates, who were the creatures of William, dismissed Baylewithout alleging any reason. To an ordinary philosopher it would haveseemed hard to lose his salary because his antagonist was one

 Whose sword is sharper than his pen. 

Bayle only rejoiced at this emancipation, and quietly returned to hisDictionary. His feelings on this occasion he has himself perpetuated. 

"The sweetness and repose I find in the studies in which I have engagedmyself, and which are my delight, will induce me to remain in this city, if I am allowed to continue in it, at least till the printing of myDictionary is finished; for my presence is absolutely necessary in theplace where it is printed. I am no lover of money, nor of honours, andwould not accept of any invitation should it be made to me; nor am Ifond of the disputes, and cabals, and professorial snarlings which reignin all our academies: _Canam mihi et Musis_. " He was indeed so charmedby quiet and independence, that he was continually refusing the mostmagnificent offers of patronage, from Count Guiscard, the Frenchambassador; but particularly from our English nobility. The Earls ofShaftesbury, of Albemarle, and of Huntingdon tried every solicitation towin him over to reside with them as their friend; and too nice a senseof honour induced Bayle to refuse the Duke of Shrewsbury's gift of twohundred guineas for the dedication of his Dictionary. "I have so oftenridiculed dedications that I must not risk any, " was the reply of ourphilosopher. 

The only complaint which escaped from Bayle was the want of books; anevil particularly felt during his writing the "Critical Dictionary;" awork which should have been composed not distant from the shelves of apublic library. Men of classical attainments, who are studying abouttwenty authors, and chiefly for their style, can form no conception ofthe state of famine to which an "helluo librorum" is too often reducedin the new sort of study which Bayle founded. Taste when once obtainedmay be said to be no acquiring faculty, and must remain stationary; butknowledge is of perpetual growth, and has infinite demands. Taste, likean artificial canal, winds through a beautiful country; but its bordersare confined, and its term is limited. Knowledge navigates the ocean, and is perpetually on voyages of discovery. Bayle often grieves over thescarcity, or the want of books, by which he was compelled to leave manythings uncertain, or to take them at second-hand; but he lived todiscover that trusting to the reports of others was too often sufferingthe blind to lead the blind. It was this circumstance which inducedBayle to declare, that some works cannot be written in the country, andthat the metropolis only can supply the wants of the literary man. Plutarch has made a similar confession; and the elder Pliny, who had notso many volumes to turn over as a modern, was sensible to the want ofbooks, for he acknowledges that there was no book so bad by which wemight not profit. 

Bayle's peculiar vein of research and skill in discussion firstappeared in his "Pensées sur la Comète. " In December, 1680, a comet hadappeared, and the public yet trembled at a portentous meteor, which theystill imagined was connected with some forthcoming and terrible event!Persons as curious as they were terrified teased Bayle by theirinquiries, but resisted all his arguments. They found many things morethan arguments in his amusing volumes: "I am not one of the authors byprofession, " says Bayle, in giving an account of the method he meant topursue, "who follow a series of views; who first project their subject, then divide it into books and chapters, and who only choose to work onthe ideas they have planned. I for my part give up all claims toauthorship, and shall chain myself to no such servitude. I cannotmeditate with much regularity on one subject; I am too fond of change. Ioften wander from the subject, and jump into places of which it might bedifficult to guess the way out; so that I shall make a learned doctorwho looks for method quite impatient with me. " The work is indeed fullof curiosities and anecdotes, with many critical ones concerninghistory. At first it found an easy entrance into France, as a simpleaccount of comets; but when it was discovered that Bayle's comet had anumber of fiery tales concerning the French and the Austrians, it soonbecame as terrific as the comet itself, and was prohibited!

Bayle's "Critique générale de l'Histoire du Calvinisme par le PèreMaimbourg, " had more pleasantry than bitterness, except to the palate ofthe vindictive Father, who was of too hot a constitution to relish thedelicacy of our author's wit. Maimbourg stirred up all the intrigues hecould rouse to get the Critique burnt by the hangman at Paris. Thelieutenant of the police, De la Reynie, who was among the many who didnot dislike to see the Father corrected by Bayle, delayed this executionfrom time to time, till there came a final order. This lieutenant of thepolice was a shrewd fellow, and wishing to put an odium on the bigotedMaimbourg, allowed the irascible Father to write the proclamationhimself with all the violence of an enraged author. It is a curiousspecimen of one who evidently wished to burn his brother with his book. In this curious proclamation, which has been preserved as a literarycuriosity, Bayle's "Critique" is declared to be defamatory andcalumnious, abounding with seditious forgeries, pernicious to all goodsubjects, and therefore is condemned to be torn to pieces, and burnt atthe _Place de Grêve_. All printers and booksellers are forbidden toprint, or to sell, or disperse the said abominable book, under _pain ofdeath_; and all other persons, of what quality or condition soever, areto undergo the penalty of exemplary punishment. De la Reynie must havesmiled on submissively receiving this effusion from our enraged author;and to punish Maimbourg in the only way he could contrive, and to do atthe same time the greatest kindness to Bayle, whom he admired, hedispersed three thousand copies of this proclamation to be posted upthrough Paris; the alarm and the curiosity were simultaneous; but thelatter prevailed. Every book collector hastened to procure a copy soterrifically denounced, and at the same time so amusing. The author ofthe "Livres condamnés au Feu" might have inserted this anecdote in hiscollection. It may be worth adding, that Maimbourg always affected tosay that he had never read Bayle's work, but he afterwards confessed toMenage, that he could not help valuing a book of such curiosity. Jurieuwas so jealous of its success, that Beauval attributes his personalhatred of Bayle to our young philosopher overshadowing that veteran. 

The taste for literary history we owe to Bayle; and the great interesthe communicated to these researches spread in the national tastes ofEurope. France has been always the richest in these stores, but ouracquisitions have been rapid; and Johnson, who delighted in them, elevated their means and their end, by the ethical philosophy and thespirit of criticism which he awoke. With Bayle, indeed, his minor workswere the seed-plots; but his great Dictionary opened the forest. 

It is curious, however, to detect the difficulties of early attempts, and the indifferent success which sometimes attends them in their firststate. Bayle, to lighten the fatigue of correcting the second edition ofhis Dictionary, wrote the first volume of "Réponses aux Questions d'unProvincial, " a supposititious correspondence with a country gentleman. It was a work of mere literary curiosity, and of a better description ofmiscellaneous writing than that of the prevalent fashion of givingthoughts and maxims, and fanciful characters, and idle stories, whichhad satiated the public taste: however, the book was not well received. He attributes the public caprice to his prodigality of literaryanecdotes, and other _minutiæ literariæ_, and his frequent quotations!but he defends himself with skill: "It is against the nature of thingsto pretend that in a work to prove and clear up facts, an author shouldonly make use of his own thoughts, or that he ought to quote veryseldom. Those who say that the work does not sufficiently interest thepublic, are doubtless in the right; but an author cannot interest thepublic except he discusses moral or political subjects. All others withwhich men of letters fill their books are useless to the public; and weought to consider them as only a kind of frothy nourishment inthemselves; but which, however, gratify the curiosity of many readers, according to the diversity of their tastes. What is there, for example, less interesting to the public than the _Bibliothèque Choisie_ ofColomiés (a small bibliographical work); yet is that work looked on asexcellent in its kind. I could mention other works which are read, though containing nothing which interests the public. " Two years after, when he resumed these letters, he changed his plan; he became moreargumentative, and more sparing of literary and historical articles. Wehave now certainly obtained more decided notions of the nature of thisspecies of composition, and treat such investigations with more skill;still they are "caviare to the general. " An accumulation of dry facts, without any exertion of taste or discussion, forms but the barren andobscure diligence of title-hunters. All things which come to the readerwithout having first passed through the mind, as well as the pen of thewriter, will be still open to the fatal objection of insane industryraging with a depraved appetite for trash and cinders; and this is theline of demarcation which will for ever separate a Bayle from a ProsperMarchand, and a Warton from a Ritson; the one must be satisfied to beuseful, but the other will not fail to delight. Yet something must bealleged in favour of those who may sometimes indulge researches toominutely; perhaps there is a point beyond which nothing remains butuseless curiosity; yet this too may be relative. The pleasure of thesepursuits is only tasted by those who are accustomed to them, and whoseemployments are thus converted into amusements. A man of fine genius, Addison relates, trained up in all the polite studies of antiquity, uponbeing obliged to search into several rolls and records, at first foundthis a very dry and irksome employment; yet he assured me, that at lasthe took an incredible pleasure in it, and preferred it even to thereading of Virgil and Cicero. 

As for our Bayle, he exhibits a perfect model of the real literarycharacter. He, with the secret alchymy of human happiness, extracted histranquillity out of the baser metals, at the cost of his ambition andhis fortune. Throughout a voluminous work, he experienced the enjoymentof perpetual acquisition and delight; he obtained glory, and he enduredpersecution. He died as he had lived, in the same uninterrupted habitsof composition; for with his dying hand, and nearly speechless, he senta fresh proof to the printer!

CICERO VIEWED AS A COLLECTOR. 

Fuseli, in the introduction to the second part of his Lectures, hastouched on the character of Cicero, respecting his knowledge and feelingof Art, in a manner which excites our curiosity. "Though Cicero seems tohave had as little _native taste_ for painting and sculpture, and evenless than he had taste for poetry, he had a conception of Nature, andwith his usual acumen frequently scattered useful hints and pertinentobservations. For many of these he might probably be indebted toHortensius, with whom, though his rival in eloquence, he lived on termsof familiarity, and who was a man of declared taste, and one of thefirst collectors of the time. " We may trace the progress of _Cicero'staste for the works of art_. It was probably a late, though an ardentpursuit; and their actual enjoyment seems with this celebrated manrather to have been connected with some future plan of life. 

Cicero, when about forty-three years of age, seems to have projected theformation of a library and a collection of antiquities, with the remoteintention of secession, and one day stealing away from the noisy honoursof the republic. Although that great man remained too long a victim tohis political ambition, yet at all times his natural dispositions wouldbreak out, and amidst his public avocations he often anticipated a timewhen life would be unvalued without uninterrupted repose; but repose, destitute of the ample furniture, and even of the luxuries of a mindoccupying itself in literature and art, would only for him have openedthe repose of a desert! It was rather his provident wisdom than theiractual enjoyment, which induced him, at a busied period of his life, toaccumulate from all parts books, and statues, and curiosities withoutnumber; in a word, to become, according to the term, too oftenmisapplied and misconceived among us, for it is not always understoodin an honourable sense, a COLLECTOR!

Like other late collectors, Cicero often appears ardent to possess whathe was not able to command; sometimes he entreats, or circuitouslynegotiates, or is planning the future means to secure the acquisitionswhich he thirsted after. He is repeatedly soliciting his literary friendAtticus to keep his books for him, and not to dispose of his collectionson any terms, however earnestly the bidders may crowd; and, to keep hispatience in good hope (for Atticus imagined his collection would exceedthe price which Cicero could afford), he desires Atticus not to despairof his being able to make them his, for that he was saving all his rentsto purchase these books for the relief of his old age. 

This projected library and collection of antiquities it was theintention of Cicero to have placed in his favourite villa in theneighbourhood of Rome, whose name, consecrated by time, now proverbiallydescribes the retirement of a man of elegant taste. To adorn his villaat Tusculum formed the day-dreams of this man of genius; and his passionbroke out in all the enthusiasm and impatience which so frequentlycharacterise the modern collector. Not only Atticus, on whose fine tastehe could depend, but every one likely to increase his acquisitions wasCicero persecuting with entreaties on entreaties, with the seduction oflarge prices, and with the expectation, that if the orator and consulwould submit to accept any bribe, it would hardly be refused in theshape of a manuscript or a statue. "In the name of our friendship, " saysCicero, addressing Atticus, "suffer nothing to escape you of whateveryou find curious or rare. " When Atticus informed him that he should sendhim a fine statue, in which the heads of Mercury and Minerva were unitedtogether, Cicero, with the enthusiasm of a maniacal lover of the presentday, finds every object which is uncommon the very thing for which hehas a proper place. "Your discovery is admirable, and the statue youmention seems to have been made purposely for my cabinet. " Then followsan explanation of the mystery of this allegorical statue, whichexpressed the happy union of exercise and study. "Continue, " he adds, "to collect for me as you have promised, _in as great a quantity aspossible_, morsels of this kind. " Cicero, like other collectors, may besuspected not to have been very difficult in his choice, and for him thecurious was not less valued than the beautiful. The mind and temper ofCicero were of a robust and philosophical cast, not too subject to thetortures of those whose morbid imagination and delicacy of taste touchon infirmity. It is, however, amusing to observe this great man, actuated by all the fervour and joy of collecting. "I have paid youragent, as you ordered, for the Megaric statues; send me as _many_ ofthem as you can, _and as soon as possible_, with any others which youthink proper for the place, and to my taste, and good enough to pleaseyours. You cannot imagine how greatly my _passion increases_ for thissort of things; it is such that it may appear _ridiculous_ in the eyesof many; but you are my friend, and will only think of satisfying mywishes. " Again--"Purchase for me, without thinking farther, all that youdiscover of rarity. My friend, do not spare my purse. " And, indeed, inanother place he loves Atticus both for his promptitude and cheappurchases: _Te multum amamus, quod ea abs te diligenter, parvoque curatasunt_. 

Our collectors may not be displeased to discover at their head sovenerable a personage as Cicero; nor to sanction their own feverishthirst and panting impatience with all the raptures on the day ofpossession, and the "saving of rents" to afford commanding prices--bythe authority of the greatest philosopher of antiquity. 

A fact is noticed in this article which requires elucidation. In thelife of a true collector, the selling of his books is a singularincident. The truth is, that the elegant friend of Cicero, residing inthe literary city of Athens, appears to have enjoyed but a moderateincome, and may be said to have traded not only in books, but ingladiators, whom he let out, and also charged interest for the use ofhis money; circumstances which Cornelius Nepos, who gives an account ofhis landed property, has omitted, as, perhaps, not well adapted toheighten the interesting picture which he gives of Atticus, but whichthe Abbé Mongault has detected in his curious notes on Cicero's lettersto Atticus. It is certain that he employed his slaves, who, "to thefoot-boy, " as Middleton expresses himself, were all literary and skilfulscribes, in copying the works of the best authors for his own use: butthe duplicates were sold, to the common profit of the master and theslave. The state of literature among the ancients may be paralleled withthat of the age of our first restorers of learning, when printing wasnot yet established; then Boccaccio and Petrarch, and such men, werecollectors, and zealously occupied in the manual labour oftranscription; immeasurable was the delight of that avariciousness ofmanuscript, by which, in a certain given time, the possessor, with anunwearied pen, could enrich himself by his copy: and this copy an estatewould not always purchase! Besides that a manuscript selected byAtticus, or copied by the hand of Boccaccio and Petrarch, must haverisen in value, associating it with the known taste and judgment of theCOLLECTOR. 

THE HISTORY OF THE CARACCI. 

The congenial histories of literature and of art are accompanied by thesame periodical revolutions; and none is more interesting than that onewhich occurs in the decline and corruption of arts, when a single mindreturning to right principles, amidst the degenerated race who hadforsaken them, seems to create a new epoch, and teaches a servile raceonce more how to invent! These epochs are few, but are easilydistinguished. The human mind is never stationary; it advances or itretrogrades: having reached its meridian point, when the hour ofperfection has gone by, it must verge to its decline. In all Art, perfection lapses into that weakened state too often dignified asclassical imitation; but it sinks into mannerism, and wantons intoaffectation, till it shoots out into fantastic novelties. When alllanguishes in a state of mediocrity, or is deformed by false tastes, then is reserved for a fortunate genius the glory of restoring anothergolden age of invention. The history of the Caracci family serves as anadmirable illustration of such an epoch, while the personal charactersof the three Caracci throw an additional interest over this curiousincident in the history of the works of genius. 

The establishment of the famous _accademia_, or school of painting, atBologna, which restored the art in the last stage of degeneracy, originated in the profound meditations of Lodovico. There was a happyboldness in the idea; but its great singularity was that of discoveringthose men of genius, who alone could realise his ideal conception, amidst his own family circle; and yet these were men whose oppositedispositions and acquirements could hardly have given any hope of mutualassistance; and much, less of melting together their minds and theirwork in such an unity of conception and execution, that even to our daysthey leave the critics undetermined which of the Caracci to prefer; eachexcelling the other in some pictorial quality. Often combining togetherin the same picture, the mingled labour of three painters seemed toproceed from one palette, as their works exhibit which adorn thechurches of Bologna. They still dispute about a picture, to ascertainwhich of the Caracci painted it; and still one prefers Lodovico for his_grandiosità_, another Agostino for his invention, and another Annibalefor his vigour or his grace. [266]

What has been told of others, happened to Lodovico Caracci in his youth;he struggled with a mind tardy in its conceptions, so that he gave noindications of talent; and was apparently so inept as to have beenadvised by two masters to be satisfied to grind the colours he ought nototherwise to meddle with. Tintoretto, from friendship, exhorted him tochange his trade. "This sluggishness of intellect did not proceed, "observes the sagacious Lanzi, "from any deficiency, but from the depthof his penetrating mind: early in life he dreaded the ideal as a rock onwhich so many of his contemporaries had been shipwrecked. " His hand wasnot blest with precocious facility, because his mind was unsettled abouttruth itself; he was still seeking for nature, which he could notdiscover in those wretched mannerists, who, boasting of their freedomand expedition in their bewildering tastes, which they called the ideal, relied on the diplomas and honours obtained by intrigue or purchase, which sanctioned their follies in the eyes of the multitude. "Lodovico, "says Lanzi, "would first satisfy his own mind on every line; he wouldnot paint till painting well became a habit, and till habit producedfacility. "

Lodovico then sought in other cities for what he could not find atBologna. Ho travelled to inspect the works of the elder masters; hemeditated on all their details; he penetrated to the very thoughts ofthe great artists, and grew intimate with their modes of conception andexecution. The true principles of art were collected together in his ownmind, --the rich fruits of his own studies, --and these first prompted himto invent a new school of painting. [267]

Returning to Bologna, he found his degraded brothers in art stillquarrelling about the merits of the old and the new school, and stillexulting in their vague conceptions and expeditious methods. Lodovico, who had observed all, had summed up his principle in one grandmaxim, --that of combining a close observation of nature with theimitation of the great masters, modifying both, however, by thedisposition of the artist himself. Such was the simple idea and thehappy project of Lodovico! Every perfection seemed to have beenobtained: the _Raffaeleschi_ excelled in the ideal; the_Michelagnuoleschi_ in the anatomical; the Venetian and the Lombardschools in brilliant vivacity or philosophic gravity. All seemedpreoccupied; but the secret of breaking the bonds of servile imitationwas a new art: of mingling into one school the charms of every school, adapting them with freedom; and having been taught by all, to remain amodel for all; or, as Lanzi expresses it, _dopo avere appresso da tutteinsegnò a tutte_. To restore Art in its decline, Lodovico pressed allthe sweets from all the flowers; or, melting together all his richmaterials, formed one Corinthian brass. This school is described by DuFresnoy in the character of Annibale, ---- Quos sedulus Hannibal omnes In PROPRIAM MENTEM atque morem mirâ arte COEGIT. 

Paraphrased by Mason, From all their charms combined, with happy toil, Did Annibal compose his wondrous style; O'er the fair fraud so close a veil is thrown, That every borrow'd grace becomes his own. [268]

Lodovico perceived that he could not stand alone in the breach, andsingle-handed encounter an impetuous multitude. He thought of raising upa party among those youthful aspirants who had not yet been habituallydepraved. He had a brother whose talent could never rise beyond a poorcopyist's, and him he had the judgment, unswayed by undue partiality, toaccount as a cipher; but he found two of his cousins men capable ofbecoming as extraordinary as himself. 

These brothers, Agostiuo and Annibale, first by nature, and then bytheir manners and habits, were of the most opposite dispositions. Bornamidst humble occupations, their father was a tailor, and Annibale wasstill working on the paternal board, while Agostino was occupied by theelegant works of the goldsmith, whence he acquired the fine art ofengraving, in which he became the Marc Antonio of his time. Theirmanners, perhaps, resulted from their trades. Agostino was a man ofscience and literature: a philosopher and poet of the most polishedelegance, the most enchanting conversation, far removed from the vulgar, he became the companion of the learned and the noble. Annibale couldscarcely write and read; an inborn ruggedness made him sullen, taciturn, or, if he spoke, sarcastic; scorn and ridicule were his bitter delight. Nature had strangely made these brothers little less than enemies. Annibale despised his brother for having entered into the highercircles; he ridiculed his refined manners, and even the neat elegance ofhis dress. To mortify Agostino, one day he sent him a portrait of theirfather threading a needle, and their mother cutting out the cloth, toremind him, as he once whispered in Agostino's ear, when he met himwalking with a nobleman, "not to forget that they were sons of a poortailor!"[269] The same contrast existed in the habits of their mind. Agostino was slow to resolve, difficult to satisfy himself; he was forpolishing and maturing everything: Annibale was too rapid to suffer anydelay, and, often evading the difficulties of the art, loved to do muchin a short time. Lodovico soon perceived their equal and naturalaptitude for art; and placing Agostino under a master who was celebratedfor his facility of execution, he fixed Annibale in his own study, where his cousin might be taught by observation the _Festina lente_; howthe best works are formed by a leisurely haste. Lodovico seems to haveadopted the artifice of Isocrates in his management of two pupils, ofwhom he said that the one was to be pricked on by the spur, and theother kept in by the rein. 

But a new difficulty arose in the attempt to combine together suchincongruous natures; the thoughtful Lodovico, intent on the greatproject of the reformation of the art, by his prudence long balancedtheir unequal tempers, and with that penetration which so stronglycharacterises his genius, directed their distinct talents to his onegreat purpose. From the literary Agostino he obtained the philosophy ofcritical lectures and scientific principles; invention and designingsolely occupied Annibale; while the softness of contours, lightness andgrace, were his own acquisition. But though Annibale presumptuouslycontemned the rare and elevated talents of Agostino, and scarcelysubmitted to copy the works of Lodovico, whom he preferred to rival, yet, according to a traditional rumour which Lanzi records, it wasAnnibale's decision of character which enabled him, as it wereunperceived, to become the master over his cousin and his brother;Lodovico and Agostino long hesitated to oppose the predominant style, intheir first Essays; Annibale hardly decided to persevere in openingtheir new career by opposing "works to voices;" and to the enervatelabours of their wretched rivals, their own works, warm in vigour andfreshness, conducted on the principles of nature and art. 

The Caracci not only resolved to paint justly, but to preserve the artitself, by perpetuating the perfect taste of the true style among theirsuccessors. In their own house they opened an _Accademia_, calling it_degli Incaminati_, "the opening a new way, " or "the beginners. " Theacademy was furnished with casts, drawings, prints, a school foranatomy, and for the living figure; receiving all comers with kindness;teaching gratuitously, and, as it is said, without jealousy; but toomany facts are recorded to allow us to credit the banishment of thisinfectious passion from the academy of the Caracci, who, like othercongregated artists, could not live together and escape their ownendemial fever. 

It was here, however, that Agostino found his eminence as the directorof their studies; delivering lectures on architecture and perspective, and pointing out from his stores of history and fable subjects for thedesigns of their pupils, who, on certain days exhibited their works tothe most skilful judges, adjusting the merits by their decisions. "Tothe crowned sufficient is the prize of the glory, " says Lanzi; and whilethe poets chanted their praises, the lyre of Agostino himself gratefullycelebrated the progress of his pupils. A curious sonnet has beentransmitted to us, where Agostino, like the ancient legislators, compresses his new laws into a few verses, easily to be remembered. Thesonnet is now well known, since Fuseli and Barry have preserved it intheir lectures. This singular production has, however, had the hard fateof being unjustly depreciated: Lanzi calls it _pittoresco veramente piùche poetico_; Fuseli sarcastically compares it to "a medicalprescription. " It delighted Barry, who calls it "a beautiful poem. Considered as a didactic and descriptive poem, no lover of art who hasever read it, will cease to repeat it till he has got it by heart. Inthis academy every one was free to indulge his own taste, provided hedid not violate the essential principles of art; for though the criticshave usually described the character of this new school to have been animitation of the preceding ones, it was their first principle to beguided by nature, and their own disposition; and if their painter wasdeficient in originality, it was not the fault of this academy so muchas of the academician. In difficult doubts they had recourse toLodovico, whom Lanzi describes in his school like Homer among theGreeks, _fons ingeniorum_, profound in every part of painting. Even therecreations of the pupils were contrived to keep their mind and hand inexercise; in their walks sketching landscapes from nature, or amusingthemselves with what the Italians call _Caricatura_, a term of largesignification; for it includes many sorts of grotesque inventions, whimsical incongruities, such as those arabesques found at Herculaneum, where Anchises, Æneas, and Ascanius are burlesqued by heads of apes andpigs, or Arion, with a grotesque motion, is straddling a great trout; orlike that ludicrous parody which came from the hand of Titian in aplayful hour, when he sketched the Laocoon whose three figures consistof apes. Annibale had a peculiar facility in these incongruousinventions, and even the severe Leonardo da Vinci considered them asuseful exercises. 

Such was the academy founded by the Caracci; and Lodovico lived torealise his project in the reformation of art, and witnessed the schoolof Bologna flourishing afresh when all the others had fallen. The greatmasters of this last epoch of Italian painting were their pupils. Suchwere Domenichino, who, according to the expression of Bellori, _delineagli animi, colorisce la vita_; he drew the soul and coloured life;[270]Albano, whose grace distinguishes him as the Anacreon of painting;Guido, whose touch was all beauty and delicacy, and, as Passeridelightfully expresses it, "whose faces came from Paradise;"[271] ascholar of whom his masters became jealous, while Annibale, to depressGuido, patronised Domenichino, and even the wise Lodovico could notdissimulate the fear of a new competitor in a pupil, and to mortifyGuido preferred Guercino, who trod in another path. Lanfranco closesthis glorious list, whose freedom and grandeur for their full displayrequired the ample field of some vast history. 

The secret history of this _Academia_ forms an illustration for thatchapter on "Literary Jealousy" which I have written in "The LiteraryCharacter. " We have seen even the gentle Lodovico infected by it; but itraged in the breast of Annibale. Careless of fortune as they werethrough life, and free from the bonds of matrimony, that they mightwholly devote themselves to all the enthusiasm of their art, they livedtogether in the perpetual intercourse of their thoughts; and even attheir meals laid on their table their crayons and their papers, so thatany motion or gesture which occurred, as worthy of picturing, wasinstantly sketched. Annibale catching something of the critical taste ofAgostino, learnt to work more slowly, and to finish with moreperfection, while his inventions were enriched by the elevated thoughtsand erudition of Agostino. Yet a circumstance which happened in theacademy betrays the mordacity and envy of Annibalo at the superioraccomplishments of his more learned brother. While Agostino wasdescribing with great eloquence the beauties of the Laocoon, Annibaleapproached the wall, and snatching up the crayons, drew the marvellousfigure with such perfection, that the spectators gazed on it inastonishment. Alluding to his brother's lecture, the proud artistdisdainfully observed, "Poets paint with words, but painters only withtheir pencils. "[272]

The brothers could neither live together nor endure absence. Many yearstheir life was one continued struggle and mortification; and Agostinooften sacrificed his genius to pacify the jealousy of Annibale, byrelinquishing his palette to resume those exquisite engravings, in whichhe corrected the faulty outlines of the masters whom he copied, so thathis engravings are more perfect than their originals. To this unhappycircumstance, observes Lanzi, we must attribute the loss of so manynoble compositions which otherwise Agostino, equal in genius to theother Caracci, had left us. The jealousy of Annibale at length for evertore them asunder. Lodovico happened not to be with them when they wereengaged in painting together the Farnesian gallery at Rome. A rumourspread that in their present combined labour the engraver had excelledthe painter. This Annibale could not forgive; he raved at the bite ofthe serpent: words could not mollify, nor kindness any longer appease, that perturbed spirit; neither the humiliating forbearance of Agostino, the counsels of the wise, nor the mediation of the great. They separatedfor ever! a separation in which they both languished, till Agostino, broken-hearted, sunk into an early grave, and Annibale, now brotherless, lost half his genius; his great invention no longer accompanied him--forAgostino was not by his side![273] After suffering many vexations, andpreyed on by his evil temper, Annibale was deprived of his senses. 

AN ENGLISH ACADEMY OF LITERATURE. [274]

We have Royal Societies for philosophers, for antiquaries, and forartists--none for men of letters! The lovers of philological studieshave regretted the want of an asylum since the days of Anne, when theestablishment of an English Academy of Literature was designed; butpolitical changes occurred which threw out a literary administration. France and Italy have gloried in great national academies, and even inprovincial ones. With us, the curious history and the fate of thesocieties at Spalding, Stamford, and Peterborough, whom their zealousfounder lived to see sink into country clubs, is that of most of our_rural_ attempts at literary academies! The Manchester society has butan ambiguous existence; and that of Exeter expired in its birth. Yetthat a great purpose may be obtained by an inconsiderable number, thehistory of "The Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, "&c. , may prove; for that originally consisted only of twelve persons, brought together with great difficulty, and neither distinguished fortheir ability nor their rank. 

The opponents to the establishment of an academy in this country mayurge, and find Bruyère on their side, that no corporate body generates asingle man of genius. No Milton, no Hume, no Adam Smith, will spring outof an academical community, however they may partake of one commonlabour. Of the fame, too, shared among the many, the individual feelshis portion too contracted, besides that he will often suffer bycomparison. Literature, with us, exists independent of patronage orassociation. We have done well without an academy; our dictionary andour style have been polished by individuals, and not by a society. 

The advocates for such a literary institution may reply, that in whathas been advanced against it we may perhaps find more glory than profit. Had an academy been established in this country, we should havepossessed all our present advantages, with the peculiar ones of such aninstitution. A series of volumes composed by the learned of England hadrivalled the precious "Memoirs of the French Academy, " probably morephilosophical, and more congenial to our modes of thinking! Thecongregating spirit creates by its sympathy; an intercourse existsbetween its members which had not otherwise occurred; in this attritionof minds, the torpid awakens, the timid is emboldened, and the secludedis called forth; to contradict, and to be contradicted, is the privilegeand the source of knowledge. Those original ideas, hints, andsuggestions, which some literary men sometimes throw out once or twiceduring their whole lives, might here be preserved; and if endowed withsufficient funds, there are important labours, which surpass the meansand industry of the individual, which would be more advantageouslyperformed by such literary unions. 

An academy of literature can only succeed by the same means in whichoriginated all such academies--among individuals themselves. It will notbe "by the favour of the MANY, but by the wisdom and energy of the FEW. "It is not even in the power of royalty to create at a word what can onlybe formed by the co-operation of the workmen themselves, and of thegreat taskmaster, Time!

Such institutions have sprung from the same principle, and have followedthe same march. It was from a private meeting that "The French Academy"derived its origin; and the true beginners of that celebratedinstitution assuredly had no foresight of the object to which theirconferences tended. Several literary friends at Paris, finding theextent of the city occasioned much loss of time in their visits, agreedto meet on a fixed day every week, and chose Conrart's residence ascentrical. They met for the purposes of general conversation, or to walktogether, or, what was not least social, to partake in some refreshing_collation_. All being literary men, those who were authors submittedtheir new works to this friendly society, who, without jealousy ormalice, freely communicated their strictures; the works were improved, the authors were delighted, and the critics were honest! Such was thehappy life of the members of this private society during three or fouryears. Pelisson, the earliest historian of the French Academy, hasdelightfully described it: "It was such that, now when they speak ofthese first days of the Academy, they call it the golden age, duringwhich, with all the innocence and freedom of that fortunate period, without pomp and noise, and without any other laws than those offriendship, they enjoyed together all which a society of minds, and arational life, can yield of whatever softens and charms. "

They were happy, and they resolved to be silent; nor was this bond andcompact of friendship violated till one of them, Malleville, secretaryof Marshal Bassompierre, being anxious that his friend Faret, who hadjust printed his _L'Honnête Homme_, which he had drawn from the famous"Il Cortigiano" of Castiglione, should profit by all their opinions, procured his admission to one of their conferences; Faret presented themwith his book, heard a great deal concerning the nature of his work, wascharmed by their literary communications, and returned home ready toburst with the secret. Could the society hope that others would be morefaithful than they had been to themselves? Faret happened to be one ofthose light-hearted men who are communicative in the degree in whichthey are grateful, and he whispered the secret to Des Marets and toBoisrobert. The first, as soon as he heard of such a literary senate, used every effort to appear before them and read the first volume of his"Ariane. " Boisrobert, a man of distinction, and a common friend to themall, could not be refused an admission; he admired the frankness oftheir mutual criticisms. The society, besides, was a new object; and hisdaily business was to furnish an amusing story to his patron, Richelieu. The cardinal-minister was very literary, and apt to be so hipped in hishours of retirement, that the physician declared, that "all his drugswere of no avail, unless his patient mixed with them a drachm ofBoisrobert. " In one of those fortunate moments, when the cardinal was"in the vein, " Boisrobert painted, with the warmest hues, this region ofliterary felicity, of a small, happy society formed of critics andauthors! The minister, who was ever considering things in thatparticular aspect which might tend to his own glory, instantly askedBoisrobert, whether this private meeting would not like to beconstituted a public body, and establish itself by letters patent, offering them his protection. The flatterer of the minister wasoverjoyed, and executed the important mission; but not one of themembers shared in the rapture, while some regretted an honour whichwould only disturb the sweetness and familiarity of their intercourse. Malleville, whose master was a prisoner in the Bastile, and Serisay, the_intendant_ of the Duke of Rochefoucault, who was in disgrace at court, louldly protested, in the style of an opposition party, against theprotection of the minister; but Chapelain, who was known to have noparty-interests, argued so clearly, that he left them to infer thatRichelieu's _offer_ was a _command_; that the cardinal was a ministerwho willed not things by halves; and was one of those very great men whoavenge any contempt shown to them even on such little men as themselves!In a word, the dogs bowed their necks to the golden collar. However, theappearance, if not the reality, of freedom was left to them; and theminister allowed them to frame their own constitution, and elect theirown magistrates and citizens in this infant and illustrious republic ofliterature. The history of the farther establishment of the FrenchAcademy is elegantly narrated by Pelisson. The usual difficulty occurredof fixing on a title; and they appear to have changed it so often, thatthe Academy was at first addressed by more than one title; Académie _desbeaux Esprits_; Académie _de l'Eloquence_; Académie _Eminente_, inallusion to the quality of the cardinal, its protector. Desirous ofavoiding the extravagant and mystifying titles of the Italianacademies, [275] they fixed on the most unaffected, "_L'AcadémieFrançaise_; but though the national genius may disguise itself for amoment, it cannot be entirely got rid of, and they assumed a vauntingdevice of a laurel wreath, including their epigraph, "_�l'Immortalité_. " The Academy of Petersburgh has chosen a moreenlightened inscription, _Paulatim_ ("little by little"), so expressiveof the great labours of man--even of the inventions of genius!

Such was the origin of L'ACADEMIE FRANCAISE; it was long a privatemeeting before it became a public institution. Yet, like the RoyalSociety, its origin has been attributed to political motives, with aview to divert the attention from popular discontents; but when we lookinto the real origin of the French Academy, and our Royal Society, itmust be granted, that if the government either in France or England everentertained this project, it came to them so accidentally, that at leastwe cannot allow them the merit of profound invention. Statesmen areoften considered by speculative men in their closets to be mightierwonder-workers than they often prove to be. 

Were the origin of the Royal Society inquired into, it might be justlydated a century before its existence; the real founder was Lord Bacon, who planned the _ideal institution_ in his philosophical romance of theNew Atlantis! This notion is not fanciful, and it was that of its firstfounders, as not only appears by the expression of old Aubrey, when, alluding to the commencement of the society, he adds _secundum mentemDomini Baconi_; but by a rare print designed by Evelyn, probably for afrontispiece to Bishop Sprat's history, although we seldom find theprint in the volume. The design is precious to a Grangerite, exhibitingthree fine portraits. On one side is represented a library, and on thetable lie the statutes, the journals, and the mace of the Royal Society;on its opposite side are suspended numerous philosophical instruments;in the centre of the print is a column on which is placed the bust ofCharles the Second, the patron; on each side whole lengths of LordBrouncker, the first president, and Lord Bacon, as the founder, inscribed _Artium Instaurator_. The graver of Hollar has preserved thishappy intention of Evelyn's, which exemplifies what may be called thecontinuity and genealogy of genius, as its spirit is perpetuated by itssuccessors. [276]

When the fury of the civil wars had exhausted all parties, and abreathing time from the passions and madness of the age allowedingenious men to return once more to their forsaken studies, Bacon'svision of a philosophical society appears to have occupied theirreveries. It charmed the fancy of Cowley and Milton; but the politicsand religion of the times were still possessed by the same frenzy, anddivinity and politics were unanimously agreed to be utterly proscribedfrom their inquiries. On the subject of religion they were moreparticularly alarmed, not only at the time of the foundation of thesociety, but at a much later period, when under the direction of Newtonhimself. Even Bishop Sprat, their first historian, observed, that "theyhave freely admitted men of different religions, countries, andprofessions of life, not to lay the foundation of an English, Scotch, Irish, popish, or protestant philosophy, but a philosophy of mankind. " Acurious protest of the most illustrious of philosophers may be found:when "the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge were desirous ofholding their meetings at the house of the Royal Society, Newton drew upa number of arguments against their admission. One of them is, that "Itis a fundamental rule of the society not to meddle with religion; andthe reason is, that we may give no occasion to religious bodies tomeddle with us. " Newton would not even comply with their wishes, lest bythis compliance the Royal Society might "dissatisfy those of otherreligions. " The wisdom of the protest by Newton is as admirable as it isremarkable, --the preservation of the Royal Society from the passions ofthe age. 

It was in the lodgings of Dr. Wilkins in Wadham College that a smallphilosophical club met together, which proved to be, as Aubrey expressesit, the _incunabula_ of the Royal Society. When the members weredispersed about London, they renewed their meetings first at a tavern, then at a private house; and when the society became too great to becalled a club, they assembled in "the parlour" of Gresham College, whichitself had been raised by the munificence of a citizen, who endowed itliberally, and presented a noble example to the individuals nowassembled under its roof. The society afterwards derived its title froma sort of accident. The warm loyalty of Evelyn in the first hopeful daysof the Restoration, in his dedicatory epistle of Naudé's treatise onlibraries, called that philosophical meeting THE ROYAL SOCIETY. Theselearned men immediately voted their thanks to Evelyn for the happydesignation, which was so grateful to Charles the Second, who washimself a virtuoso of the day, that the charter was soon granted: theking, declaring himself their founder, "sent them a mace of silver-gilt, of the same fashion and bigness as those carried before his majesty, tobe borne before the president on meeting days. " To the zeal of Evelynthe Royal Society owes no inferior acquisition to its title and itsmace:[277] the noble Arundelian library, the rare literary accumulationof the noble Howards; the last possessor of which had so littleinclination for books, that the treasures which his ancestors hadcollected lay open at the mercy of any purloiner. This degenerate heirto the literature and the name of Howard seemed perfectly relieved whenEvelyn sent his marbles, which were perishing in his gardens, to Oxford, and his books, which were diminishing daily, to the Royal Society!

The SOCIETY of ANTIQUARIES might create a deeper interest, could wepenetrate to its secret history: it was interrupted, and suffered toexpire by some obscure cause of political jealousy. It long ceased toexist, and was only reinstated almost in our own days. The revival oflearning under Edward the Sixth suffered a severe check from thepapistical government of Mary; but under Elizabeth a happier era openedto our literary pursuits. At this period several students of the Inns ofCourt, many of whose names are illustrious for their rank or theirgenius, formed a weekly society, which they called "the Antiquaries'College. " From very opposite quarters we are furnished with many curiousparticulars of their literary intercourse: it is delightful to discoverRawleigh borrowing manuscripts from the library of Sir Robert Cotton, and Selden deriving his studies from the collections of Rawleigh. Theirmode of proceeding has even been preserved. At every meeting theyproposed a question or two respecting the history or the antiquities ofthe English nation, on which each member was expected, at the subsequentmeeting, to deliver a dissertation or an opinion. They also "suppedtogether. " From the days of Athenæus to those of Dr. Johnson, thepleasures of the table have enlivened those of literature. A copy ofeach question and a summons for the place of conference were sent to theabsent members. The opinions were carefully registered by the secretary, and the dissertations deposited in their archives. One of thesesummonses to Stowe, the antiquary, with his memoranda on the back, exists in the Ashmolean Museum. I shall preserve it with all its verbal_ærugo_. 

 "SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES. 

 "To MR. STOWE. "The place appointed for a conference upon the question followinge ys att Mr. Garter's house, on Frydaye the 2nd. Of this November, being Al Soule's daye, at 2 of the clocke in the afternoone, where your oppinioun in wrytinge or otherwise is expected. 

 "The question is, "Of the antiquitie, etimologie, and priviledges of parishes in Englande. 

 "Yt ys desyred that you give not notice hereof to any, but such as haue the like somons. "

Such is the summons; the memoranda in the handwriting of Stowe arethese:--

[630. Honorius Romanus, Archbyshope of Canterbury, devided his provinceinto _parishes_; he ordeyned clerks and prechars, comaunding them thatthey should instruct the people, as well by good lyfe, as by doctryne. 

760. Cuthbert, Archbyshope of Canterbury, procured of the Pope, that incities and townes there should be appoynted church yards for buriall ofthe dead, whose bodies were used to be buried abrode, & cet. ]

Their meetings had hitherto been private; but to give stability to them, they petitioned for a charter of incorporation, under the title of the_Academy for the Study of Antiquity and History, founded by QueenElizabeth_. And to preserve all the memorials of history which thedissolution of the monasteries had scattered about the kingdom, theyproposed to erect a library, to be called "The Library of QueenElizabeth. " The death of the queen overturned this honourable project. The society was somewhat interrupted by the usual casualties of humanlife; the members were dispersed or died, and it ceased for twentyyears. Spelman, Camden, and others, desirous of renovating the society, met for this purpose at the Herald's-office; they settled theirregulations, among which, one was "for avoiding offence, they shouldneither meddle with matters of state nor religion. " "But before our nextmeeting, " says Spelman, "we had notice that his majesty took _a littlemislike of our society_, not being informed that we had resolved todecline all matters of state. Yet hereupon we forbore to meet again, andso all our labour's lost!" Unquestionably much was lost, for much couldhave been produced; and Spelman's work on law terms, where I find thisinformation, was one of the first projected. James the First hasincurred the censure of those who have written more boldly than Spelmanon the suppression of this society; but whether James was misinformed by"taking a little mislike, " or whether the antiquaries failed in exertingthemselves to open their plan more clearly to that "timid pedant, " asGough and others designate this monarch, may yet be doubtful; assuredlyJames was not a man to contemn their erudition!

The king at this time was busied by furthering a similar project, whichwas to found "King James's College at Chelsea;" a project originatingwith Dean Sutcliff; and zealously approved by Prince Henry, to raise anursery for young polemics in scholastical divinity, for the purpose ofdefending the Protestant cause from the attacks of catholics andsectaries; a college which was afterwards called by Laud "ControversyCollege. " In this society were appointed historians and antiquaries, forCamden and Haywood filled these offices. 

The Society of Antiquaries, however, though suppressed, was perhapsnever extinct; it survived in some shape under Charles the Second, forAshmole in his Diary notices "the Antiquaries' Feast, " as well as "theAstrologers', " and another of "the Freemasons'. "[278] The presentsociety was only incorporated in 1751. There are two sets of theirMemoirs; for besides the modern _Archæologia_, we have two volumes of"Curious Discourses, " written by the Fathers of the Antiquarian Societyin the age of Elizabeth, collected from their dispersed manuscripts, which Camden preserved with a parental hand. 

The philosophical spirit of the age, it might have been expected, wouldhave reached our modern antiquaries; but neither profound views, noreloquent disquisitions, have imparted that value to their confinedresearches and languid efforts, which the character of the times, andthe excellence of our French rivals in their "Academie, " so peremptorilyrequired. It is, however, hopeful to hear Mr. Hallam declare, "I thinkour last volumes improve a little, and but a little! A comparison withthe Academy of Inscriptions in its better days must still inspire uswith shame. "

Among the statutes of the Society of Antiquaries there is one whichexpels any member "who shall, by speaking, writing, or printing, publicly defame the society. " Some things may be too antique andobsolete even for the Society of Antiquaries! and such is this vilerestriction! It compromises the freedom of the republic of letters. 

QUOTATION. 

It is generally supposed that where there is no QUOTATION, there will befound most originality. Our writers usually furnish their pages rapidlywith the productions of their own soil: they run up a quickset hedge, orplant a poplar, and get trees and hedges of this fashion much fasterthan the former landlords procured their timber. The greater part of ourwriters, in consequence, have become so original, that no one cares toimitate them; and those who never quote, in return are seldom quoted!

This is one of the results of that adventurous spirit which is nowstalking forth and raging for its own innovations. We have not onlyrejected AUTHORITY, but have also cast away EXPERIENCE; and often theunburthened vessel is driving to all parts of the compass, and thepassengers no longer know whither they are going. The wisdom of thewise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by QUOTATION. 

It seems, however, agreed, that no one would quote if he could think;and it is not imagined that the well-read may quote from the delicacy oftheir taste, and the fulness of their knowledge. Whatever isfelicitously expressed risks being worse expressed: it is a wretchedtaste to be gratified with mediocrity when the excellent lies before us. We quote to save proving what has been demonstrated, referring to wherethe proofs may be found. We quote to screen ourselves from the odium ofdoubtful opinions, which the world would not willingly accept fromourselves; and we may quote from the curiosity which only a quotationitself can give, when in our own words it would be divested of that tintof ancient phrase, that detail of narrative, and that _naïveté_ which wehave for ever lost, and which we like to recollect once had anexistence. 

The ancients, who in these matters were not, perhaps, such blockheads assome may conceive, considered poetical quotation as one of the requisiteornaments of oratory. Cicero, even in his philosophical works, is aslittle sparing of quotations as Plutarch. Old Montaigne is so stuffedwith them, that he owns, if they were taken out of him little of himselfwould remain; and yet this never injured that original turn which theold Gascon has given to his thoughts. I suspect that Addison hardly evercomposed a Spectator which was not founded on some quotation, noted inthose three folio manuscript volumes which he previously collected; andAddison lasts, while Steele, who always wrote from first impressions andto the times, with perhaps no inferior genius, has passed away, insomuchthat Dr. Beattie once considered that he was obliging the world bycollecting Addison's papers, and carefully omitting Steele's. 

Quotation, like much better things, has its abuses. One may quote tillone compiles. The ancient lawyers used to quote at the bar till they hadstagnated their own cause. "Retournons à nos moutons, " was the cry ofthe client. But these vagrant prowlers must be consigned to the beadlesof criticism. Such do not always understand the authors whose namesadorn their barren pages, and which are taken, too, from the third orthe thirtieth hand. Those who trust to such false quoters will oftenlearn how contrary this transmission is to the sense and the applicationof the original. Every transplantation has altered the fruit of thetree; every new channel the quality of the stream in its remove from thespring-head. Bayle, when writing on "Comets, " discovered this; forhaving collected many things applicable to his work, as they stoodquoted in some modern writers, when he came to compare them with theiroriginals, he was surprised to find that they were nothing for hispurpose! the originals conveyed a quite contrary sense to that of thepretended quoters, who often, from innocent blundering, and sometimesfrom purposed deception, had falsified their quotations. This is anuseful story for second-hand authorities!

Selden had formed some notions on this subject of quotations in his"Table-talk, " art. "_Books and Authors_;" but, as Le Clerc justlyobserves, proud of his immense reading, he has too often violated hisown precept. "In quoting of books, " says Selden, "quote such authors asare usually read; others read for your own satisfaction, but not namethem. " Now it happens that no writer names more authors, exceptPrynne, [279] than the learned Selden. La Mothe le Vayer's curious worksconsist of fifteen volumes; he is among the greatest quoters. Whoeverturns them over will perceive that he is an original thinker, and agreat wit; his style, indeed, is meagre, which, as much as hisquotations, may have proved fatal to him. But in both these cases it isevident that even quoters who have abused the privilege of quotation arenot necessarily writers of a mean genius. 

The Quoters who deserve the title, and it ought to be an honorary one, are those who trust to no one but themselves. In borrowing a passage, they carefully observe its connexion; they collect authorities toreconcile any disparity in them before they furnish the one which theyadopt; they advance no fact without a witness, and they are not looseand general in their references, as I have been told is our historianHenry so frequently, that it is suspected he deals much in second-handware. Bayle lets us into a mystery of author-craft. "Suppose an able manis to prove that an ancient author entertained certain particularopinions, which are only insinuated here and there through his works, Iam sure it will take him up more days to collect the passages which hewill have occasion for, than to _argue at random_ on those passages. Having once found out his authorities and his quotations, which perhapswill not fill six pages, and may have cost him a month's labour, he mayfinish in two mornings' work twenty pages of arguments, objections, andanswers to objections; and consequently, _what proceeds from our owngenius sometimes costs much less time than what is requisite forcollecting_. Corneille would have required more time to defend a tragedyby a great collection of authorities, than to write it; and I amsupposing the same number of pages in the tragedy and in the defence. Heinsius perhaps bestowed more time in defending his _Herodesinfanticida_ against Balzac, than a Spanish (or a Scotch) metaphysicianbestows on a large volume of controversy, where he takes all from hisown stock. " I am somewhat concerned in the truth of this principle. There are articles in the present work occupying but a few pages, whichcould never have been produced had not more time been allotted to theresearches which they contain than some would allow to a small volume, which might excel in genius, and yet be likely not to be longremembered! All this is labour which never meets the eye. It is quickerwork, with special pleading and poignant periods, to fill sheets withgeneralising principles; those bird's-eye views of philosophy for the_nonce_ seem as if things were seen clearer when at a distance and _enmasse_, and require little knowledge of the individual parts. Such _anart of writing_ may resemble the famous Lullian method, by which the_doctor illuminatus_ enabled any one to invent arguments by a machine!Two tables, one of _attributes_, and the other of _subjects_, workedabout circularly in a frame, and placed correlatively to one anotherproduced certain combinations; the number of _questions_ multiplied asthey were worked! So that here was a mechanical invention by which theymight dispute without end, and write on without any particular knowledgeof their subject!

But the painstaking gentry, when heaven sends them genius enough, arethe most instructive sort, and they are those to whom we shall appealwhile time and truth can meet together. A well-read writer, with goodtaste, is one who has the command of the wit of other men;[280] hesearches where knowledge is to be found; and though he may not himselfexcel in invention, his ingenuity may compose one of those agreeablebooks, the _deliciæ_ of literature, that will outlast the fading meteorsof his day. Epicurus is said to have borrowed from no writer in histhree hundred inspired volumes, while Plutarch, Seneca, and the elderPliny made such free use of their libraries; and it has happened thatEpicurus, with his unsubstantial nothingness, has "melted into thinair, " while the solid treasures have buoyed themselves up amidst thewrecks of nations. 

On this subject of quotation, literary politics, --for the commonwealthhas its policy and its cabinet-secrets, --are more concerned than thereader suspects. Authorities in matters of fact are often called for; inmatters of opinion, indeed, which perhaps are of more importance, no onerequires any authority. But too open and generous a revelation of thechapter and the page of the original quoted has often proved detrimentalto the legitimate honours of the quoter. They are unfairly appropriatedby the next comer; the quoter is never quoted, but the authority he hasafforded is produced by his successor with the air of an originalresearch. I have seen MSS. Thus confidently referred to, which couldnever have met the eye of the writer. A learned historian declared to meof a contemporary, that the latter had appropriated his researches; hemight, indeed, and he had a right to refer to the same originals; but ifhis predecessor had opened the sources for him, gratitude is not asilent virtue. Gilbert Stuart thus lived on Robertson: and as ProfessorDugald Stewart observes, "his curiosity has seldom led him into any pathwhere the genius and industry of his predecessor had not previouslycleared the way. " It is for this reason some authors, who do not care totrust to the equity and gratitude of their successors, will not furnishthe means of supplanting themselves; for, by not yielding up theirauthorities, they themselves become one. Some authors, who are pleasedat seeing their names occur in the margins of other books than theirown, have practised this political management; such as Alexander abAlexandro, and other compilers of that stamp, to whose labours of smallvalue we are often obliged to refer, from the circumstance that theythemselves have not pointed out their authorities. 

One word more on this long chapter of QUOTATION. To make a happy one isa thing not easily to be done. [281] Cardinal du Perron used to say, thatthe happy application of a verse from Virgil was worth a talent; andBayle, perhaps too much prepossessed in their favour, has insinuated, that there is not less invention in a just and happy application of athought found in a book, than in being the first author of that thought. The art of quotation requires more delicacy in the practice than thoseconceive who can see nothing more in a quotation than an extract. Whenever the mind of a writer is saturated with the full inspiration ofa great author, a quotation gives completeness to the whole; it sealshis feelings with undisputed authority. Whenever we would prepare themind by a forcible appeal, an opening quotation is a symphony preludingon the chords whose tones we are about to harmonise. Perhaps no writersof our times have discovered more of this delicacy of quotation than theauthor of the "Pursuits of Literature;" and Mr. Southey, in some of hisbeautiful periodical investigations, where we have often acknowledgedthe solemn and striking effect of a quotation from our elder writers. 

THE ORIGIN OF DANTE'S INFERNO. 

Nearly six centuries have elapsed since the appearance of the great workof Dante, and the literary historians of Italy are even now disputingrespecting the origin of this poem, singular in its nature and in itsexcellence. In ascertaining a point so long inquired after, and sokeenly disputed, it will rather increase our admiration than detractfrom the genius of this great poet; and it will illustrate the usefulprinciple, that every great genius is influenced by the objects and thefeelings which occupy his own times, only differing from the race of hisbrothers by the magical force of his developments: the light he sendsforth over the world he often catches from the faint and unobservedspark which would die away and turn to nothing in another hand. 

The _Divina Commedia_ of Dante is a visionary journey through the threerealms of the after-life existence; and though, in the classical ardourof our poetical pilgrim, he allows his conductor to be a Pagan, thescenes are those of monkish imagination. The invention of a VISION wasthe usual vehicle for religious instruction in his age; it was adaptedto the genius of the sleeping Homer of a monastery, and to thecomprehension, and even to the faith of the populace, whose minds werethen awake to these awful themes. 

The mode of writing visions has been imperfectly detected by severalmodern inquirers. It got into the Fabliaux of the Jongleurs, orProvençal bards, before the days of Dante; they had these visions orpilgrimages to Hell; the adventures were no doubt solemn to them--but itseemed absurd to attribute the origin of a sublime poem to suchinferior, and to us even ludicrous, inventions. Every one, therefore, found out some other origin of Dante's Inferno--since they were resolvedto have one--in other works more congenial to its nature; thedescription of a second life, the melancholy or the glorified scenes ofpunishment or bliss, with the animated shades of men who were no more, had been opened to the Italian bard by his favourite Virgil, and mighthave been suggested, according to Warton, by the _Somnium Scipionis_ ofCicero. 

But the entire work of Dante is Gothic; it is a picture of his times, ofhis own ideas, of the people about him; nothing of classical antiquityresembles it; and although the name of Virgil is introduced into aChristian Hades, it is assuredly not the Roman, for Dante's Virgilspeaks and acts as the Latin poet could never have done. It is one ofthe absurdities of Dante, who, like our Shakspeare, or like Gothicarchitecture itself, has many things which "lead to nothing" amidsttheir massive greatness. 

Had the Italian and the French commentators who have troubled themselveson this occasion known the art which we have happily practised in thiscountry, of illustrating a great national bard by endeavouring torecover the contemporary writings and circumstances which were connectedwith his studies and his times, they had long ere this discovered thereal framework of the Inferno. 

Within the last twenty years it had been rumoured that Dante hadborrowed or stolen his _Inferno_ from "The Vision of Alberico, " whichwas written two centuries before his time. The literary antiquary, Bottari, had discovered a manuscript of this Vision of Alberico, and, inhaste, made extracts of a startling nature. They were well adapted toinflame the curiosity of those who are eager after anything new aboutsomething old; it throws an air of erudition over the small talker, whootherwise would care little about the original! This was not the firsttime that the whole edifice of genius had been threatened by the motionof a remote earthquake; but in these cases it usually happens that thoseearly discoverers who can judge of a little part, are in total blindnesswhen they would decide on a whole. A poisonous mildew seemed to havesettled on the laurels of Dante; nor were we relieved from our constantinquiries, till il Sigr. Abbate Cancellieri at Rome published, in 1814, this much talked-of manuscript, and has now enabled us to see and todecide, and even to add the present little article as an usefulsupplement. 

True it is that Dante must have read with equal attention and delightthis authentic _vision_ of Alberico; for it is given, so we are assuredby the whole monastery, as it happened to their ancient brother when aboy; many a striking, and many a positive resemblance in the "DivinaCommedia" has been pointed out; and Mr. Gary, in his English version ofDante, so English, that he makes Dante speak in blank verse very muchlike Dante in stanzas, has observed, that "The reader will, in thesemarked resemblances, see enough to convince him that Dante _had readthis singular work_. " The truth is, that the "Vision of Alberico" mustnot be considered as a _singular_ work--but, on the contrary, as theprevalent mode of composition in the monastic ages. It has beenascertained that Alberico was written in the twelfth century, judging ofthe age of a manuscript by the writing. I shall now preserve a visionwhich a French antiquary had long ago given, merely with the design toshow how the monks abused the simplicity of our Gothic ancestors, andwith an utter want of taste for such inventions, he deems the presentone to be "monstrous. " He has not told us the age in which it waswritten. This vision, however, exhibits such complete scenes of the_Inferno_ of the great poet, that the writer must have read Dante, orDante must have read this writer. The manuscript, with another of thesame kind, is in the King's library at Paris, and some future researchermay ascertain the age of these Gothic compositions; doubtless they willbe found to belong to the age of Alberico, for they are alike stamped bythe same dark and awful imagination, the same depth of feeling, thesolitary genius of the monastery!

It may, however, be necessary to observe, that these "Visions" weremerely a vehicle for popular instruction; nor must we depend on the ageof their composition by the names of the supposititious visionariesaffixed to them: they were the satires of the times. The followingelaborate views of some scenes in the _Inferno_ were composed by anhonest monk who was dissatisfied with the bishops, and took this covertmeans of pointing out how the neglect of their episcopal duties waspunished in the after-life; he had an equal quarrel with the feudalnobility for their oppressions: and he even boldly ascended to thethrone. 

"The Vision of Charles the Bald, of the places of punishment, and thehappiness of the Just. [282]

"I, Charles, by the gratuitous gift of God, king of the Germans, Romanpatrician, and likewise emperor of the Franks;

"On the holy night of Sunday, having performed the divine offices ofmatins, returning to my bed to sleep, a voice most terrible came to myear; 'Charles! thy spirit shall now issue from thy body; thou shalt goand behold the judgments of God; they shall serve thee only as presages, and thy spirit shall again return shortly afterwards. ' Instantly was myspirit rapt, and he who bore me away was a being of the most splendidwhiteness. He put into my hand a ball of thread, which shed a blaze oflight, such as the comet darts when it is apparent. He divided it, andsaid to me, 'Take thou this thread, and bind it strongly on the thumb ofthy right hand, and by this I will lead thee through the infernallabyrinth of punishments. '

"Then going before me with velocity, but always unwinding this luminousthread, he conducted me into deep valleys filled with fires, and wellsinflamed, blazing with all sorts of unctuous matter. There I observedthe prelates who had served my father and my ancestors. Although Itrembled, I still, however, inquired of them to learn the cause of theirtorments. They answered, 'We are the bishops of your father and yourancestors; instead of uniting them and their people in peace andconcord, we sowed among them discord, and were the kindlers of evil: forthis are we burning in these Tartarean punishments; we, and othermen-slayers and devourers of rapine. Here also shall come your bishops, and that crowd of satellites who surround you, and who imitate the evilwe have done. '

"And while I listened to them tremblingly, I beheld the blackest demonsflying with hooks of burning iron, who would have caught the ball ofthread which I held in my hand, and have drawn it towards them, but itdarted such a reverberating light, that they could not lay hold of thethread. These demons, when at my back, hustled to precipitate me intothose sulphureous pits; but my conductor, who carried the ball, woundabout my shoulder a double thread, drawing me to him with such force, that we ascended high mountains of flame, from whence issued lakes andburning streams, melting all kinds of metals. There I found the souls oflords who had served my father and my brothers; some plunged in up tothe hair of their heads, others to their chins, others with half theirbodies immersed. These yelling, cried to me, 'It is for inflamingdiscontents with your father, and your brothers, and yourself, to makewar and spread murder and rapine, eager for earthly spoils, that we nowsuffer these torments in these rivers of boiling metal. ' While I wastimidly bending over their suffering, I heard at my back the clamours ofvoices, _potentes potenter tormenta patiuntur_! 'The powerful suffertorments powerfully;' and I looked up, and beheld on the shores boilingstreams and ardent furnaces, blazing with pitch and sulphur, full ofgreat dragons, large scorpions, and serpents of a strange species; wherealso I saw some of my ancestors, princes, and my brothers also, whosaid to me, 'Alas, Charles! behold our heavy punishment for evil, andfor proud malignant counsels, which, in our realms and in thine, weyielded to from the lust of dominion. ' As I was grieving with theirgroans, dragons hurried on, who sought to devour me with throats open, belching flame and sulphur. But my leader trebled the thread over me, atwhose resplendent light these were overcome. Leading me then securely, we descended into a great valley, which on one side was dark, exceptwhere lighted by ardent furnaces, while the amenity of the other was sopleasant and splendid, that I cannot describe it. I turned, however, tothe obscure and flaming side; I beheld some kings of my race agonised ingreat and strange punishments, and I thought how in an instant the hugeblack giants who in turmoil were working to set this whole valley intoflames, would have hurled me into these gulfs; I still trembled, whenthe luminous thread cheered my eyes, and on the other side of the valleya light for a little while whitened, gradually breaking: I observed twofountains; one, whose waters had extreme heat, the other more temperateand clear; and two large vessels filled with these waters. The luminousthread rested on one of the fervid waters, where I saw my father Louiscovered to his thighs, and though labouring in the anguish of bodilypain, he spoke to me. 'My son Charles, fear nothing! I know that thyspirit shall return unto thy body; and God has permitted thee to comehere that thou mayest witness, because of the sins I have committed, thepunishments I endure. One day I am placed in the boiling bath of thislarge vessel, and on another changed into that of more tempered waters:this I owe to the prayers of Saint Peter, Saint Denis, Saint Remy, whoare the patrons of our royal house; but if by prayers and masses, offerings and alms, psalmody and vigils, my faithful bishops, andabbots, and even all the ecclesiastical order, assist me, it will not belong before I am delivered from these boiling waters. Look on yourleft!' I looked and beheld two tuns of boiling waters. 'These areprepared for thee, ' he said, 'if thou wilt not be thy own corrector, anddo penance for thy crimes!' Then I began to sink with horror; but myguide perceiving the panic of my spirit, said to me, 'Follow me to theright of the valley, bright in the glorious light of Paradise. ' I hadnot long proceeded, when, amidst the most illustrious kings, I beheldmy uncle Lotharius seated on a topaz, of marvellous magnitude, coveredwith a most precious diadem; and beside him was his son Louis, like himcrowned, and seeing me, he spake with a blandishment of air, and asweetness of voice, 'Charles, my successor, now the third in the Romanempire, approach! I know that thou hast come to view these places ofpunishment, where thy father and my brother groans to his destined hour:but still to end by the intercession of the three saints, the patrons ofthe kings and the people of France. Know that it will not be long erethou shalt be dethroned, and shortly after thou shalt die!' Then Louisturning towards me: 'Thy Roman empire shall pass into the hands ofLouis, the son of my daughter; give him the sovereign authority, andtrust to his hands that ball of thread thou holdest. ' Directly Iloosened it from the finger of my right hand to give the empire to hisson. This invested him with empire, and he became brilliant with alllight; and at the same instant, admirable to see, my spirit, greatlywearied and broken, returned gliding into my body. Hence let all knowwhatever happen, that Louis the Young possesses the Roman empiredestined by God. And so the Lord who reigneth over the living and thedead, and whose kingdom endureth for ever and for aye, will perform whenhe shall call me away to another life. "

The French literary antiquaries judged of these "Visions" with the merenationality of their taste. Everything Gothic with them is barbarous, and they see nothing in the redeeming spirit of genius, nor the secretpurpose of these curious documents of the age. 

The Vision of Charles the Bald may be found in the ancient chronicles ofSaint Denis, which were written under the eye of the Abbé Suger, thelearned and able minister of Louis the Young, and which were certainlycomposed before the thirteenth century. The learned writer of the fourthvolume of the _Mélanges tirés d'une grande Bibliothèque_, who had aslittle taste for these mysterious visions as the other French critic, apologises for the venerable Abbé Suger's admission of such visions:"Assuredly, " he says, "the Abbé Suger was too wise and too enlightenedto believe in similar visions; but if he suffered its insertion, or ifhe inserted it himself in the chronicle of Saint Denis, it is because hefelt that such a fable offered an excellent lesson to kings, toministers and bishops, and it had been well if they had not had worsetales told them. " The latter part is as philosophical as the former isthe reverse. 

In these extraordinary productions of a Gothic age we may assuredlydiscover Dante; but what are they more than the framework of hisunimitated picture! It is only this mechanical part of his sublimeconceptions that we can pretend to have discovered; other poets mighthave adopted these "Visions;" but we should have had no "DivinaCommedia. " Mr. Gary has finely observed of these pretended origins ofDante's genius, although Mr. Gary knew only the Vision of Alberico, "Itis the scale of magnificence on which this conception was framed, andthe wonderful development of it in all its parts, that may justlyentitle our poet to rank among the few minds to whom the power of agreat creative faculty can be ascribed. " Milton might originally havesought the seminal hint of his great work from a sort of Italianmystery. In the words of Dante himself, Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. _Il Paradiso_, Can. I. 

 ----From a small spark Great flame hath risen. CARY. 

After all, Dante has said in a letter, "I found the ORIGINAL of MY HELLin THE WORLD which we inhabit;" and he said a greater truth than someliterary antiquaries can always comprehend![283]

OF A HISTORY OF EVENTS WHICH HAVE NOT HAPPENED. 

Such a title might serve for a work of not incurious nor unphilosophicalspeculation, which might enlarge our general views of human affairs, andassist our comprehension of those events which are enrolled on theregisters of history. The scheme of Providence is carrying oil sublunaryevents, by means inscrutable to us, A mighty maze, but not without a plan!

Some mortals have recently written history, and "Lectures on History, "who presume to explain the great scene of human affairs, affecting thesame familiarity with the designs of Providence as with the events whichthey compile from human authorities. Every party discovers in the eventswhich at first were adverse to their own cause but finally terminate intheir favour, that Providence had used a peculiar and particularinterference; this is a source of human error and intolerant prejudice. The Jesuit Mariana, exulting over the destruction of the kingdom andnation of the Goths in Spain, observes, that "It was by a particularprovidence that out of their ashes might rise _a new and holy Spain, tobe the bulwark of the catholic religion_;" and unquestionably he wouldhave adduced as proofs of this "holy Spain" the establishment of theInquisition, and the dark idolatrous bigotry of that hoodwinked people. But a protestant will not sympathise with the feelings of the Jesuit;yet the protestants, too, will discover particular providences, andmagnify human events into supernatural ones. This custom has longprevailed among fanatics: we have had books published by individuals, of"particular providences, " which, as they imagined, had fallen to theirlot. They are called "passages of providence;" and one I recollect by acrack-brained puritan, whose experience never went beyond his ownneighbourhood, but who having a very bad temper, and many whom heconsidered his enemies, wrote down all the misfortunes which happened tothem as acts of "particular providences, " and valued his blessedness onthe efficacy of his curses!

Without venturing to penetrate into the mysteries of the present orderof human affairs, and the great scheme of fatality or of accident, itmay he sufficiently evident to us, that often on a single event revolvethe fortunes of men and of nations. 

An eminent writer has speculated on the defeat of Charles the Second atWorcester, as "one of those events which most strikingly exemplify howmuch better events are disposed of by Providence, than they would be ifthe direction were left to the choice even of the best and the wisestmen. " He proceeds to show, that a royal victory must have been succeededby other severe struggles, and by different parties. A civil war wouldhave contained within itself another civil war. One of the blessings ofhis defeat at Worcester was, that it left the commonwealth's men mastersof the three kingdoms, and afforded them "full leisure to complete andperfect their own structure of government. The experiment was fairlytried; there was nothing from without to disturb the process; it went onduly from change to change. " The close of this history is well known. Had the royalists obtained the victory at Worcester, the commonwealthparty might have obstinately persisted, that had their republic not beenoverthrown, "their free and liberal government" would have diffused itsuniversal happiness through the three kingdoms. This idea is ingenious;and might have been pursued in my proposed "History of Events which havenot happened, " under the title of "The Battle of Worcester won byCharles the Second. " The chapter, however, would have had a brighterclose, if the sovereign and the royalists had proved themselves bettermen than the knaves and fanatics of the commonwealth. It is not for usto scrutinise into "the ways" of Providence; but if Providence conductedCharles the Second to the throne, it appears to have deserted him whenthere. 

Historians, for a particular purpose, have sometimes amused themselveswith a detail of an event which did not happen. A history of this kindwe find in the ninth book of Livy; and it forms a digression, where, with his delightful copiousness, he reasons on the probable consequenceswhich would have ensued had Alexander the Great invaded Italy. SomeGreek writers, to raise the Parthians to an equality with the Romans, had insinuated that the great name of this military monarch, who is saidnever to have lost a battle, would have intimidated the Romans, andwould have checked their passion for universal dominion. The patrioticLivy, disdaining that the glory of his nation, which had never ceasedfrom war for nearly eight hundred years, should be put in competitionwith the career of a young conqueror, which had scarcely lasted ten, enters into a parallel of "man with man, general with general, andvictory with victory. " In the full charm of his imagination he bringsAlexander down into Italy, he invests him with all his virtues, and"dusks their lustre" with all his defects. He arranges the Macedonianarmy, while he exultingly shows five Roman armies at that momentpursuing their conquests; and he cautiously counts the numerous allieswho would have combined their forces; he even descends to compare theweapons and the modes of warfare of the Macedonians with those of theRomans. Livy, as if he had caught a momentary panic at the first successwhich had probably attended Alexander in his descent into Italy, bringsforward the great commanders he would have had to encounter; he comparesAlexander with each, and at length terminates his fears, and claims histriumph, by discovering that the Macedonians had but one Alexander, while the Romans had several. This beautiful digression in Livy is amodel for the narrative of an event which never happened. 

The Saracens from Asia had spread into Africa, and at length possessedthemselves of Spain. Eude, a discontented Duke of Guienne in France, hadbeen vanquished by Charles Martel, who derived that humble but glorioussurname from the event we are now to record. Charles had left Eude theenjoyment of his dukedom, provided that he held it as a fief from thecrown; but blind with ambition and avarice, Eude adopted a scheme whichthrew Christianity itself, as well as Europe, into a crisis of perilwhich has never since occurred. By marrying a daughter with a Mahometanemir, he rashly began an intercourse with the Ishmaelites, one of whosefavourite projects was to plant a formidable colony of their faith inFrance. An army of four hundred thousand combatants, as the chroniclersof the time affirm, were seen descending into Guienne, possessingthemselves in one day of his domains; and Eude soon discovered what sortof workmen he had called, to do that of which he himself was soincapable. Charles, with equal courage and prudence, beheld this heavytempest bursting over his whole country; and to remove the first causeof this national evil, he reconciled the discontented Eude, and detachedthe duke from his fatal alliance. But the Saracens were fast advancingthrough Touraine, and had reached Tours by the river Loire: Abderam, the chief of the Saracens, anticipated a triumph in the multitude of hisinfantry, his cavalry, and his camels, exhibiting a military warfareunknown in France; he spread out his mighty army to surround the French, and to take them, as it were in a net. The appearance terrified, and themagnificence astonished. Charles, collecting his far inferior forces, assured them that they had no other France than the spot they covered. He had ordered that the city of Tours should be closed on everyFrenchman, unless he entered it victorious; and he took care that everyfugitive should be treated as an enemy by bodies of _gens d'armes_, whomhe placed to watch at the wings of his army. The combat was furious. Theastonished Mahometan beheld his battalions defeated as he urged them onsingly to the French, who on that day had resolved to offer their livesas an immolation to their mother-country. Eude on that day, ardent toclear himself from the odium which he had incurred, with desperatevalour, taking a wide compass, attacked his new allies in the rear. Thecamp of the Mahometan was forced: the shrieks of his women and childrenreached him from amidst the massacre; terrified he saw his multitudeshaken. Charles, who beheld the light breaking through this dark cloudof men, exclaimed to his countrymen, "My friends, God has raised hisbanner, and the unbelievers perish!" The mass of the Saracens, thoughbroken, could not fly; their own multitude pressed themselves together, and the Christian sword mowed down the Mahometans. Abderam was founddead in a vast heap, unwounded, stifled by his own multitude. Historiansrecord that three hundred and sixty thousand Saracens perished on _lajournée de Tours_; but their fears and their joy probably magnifiedtheir enemies. Thus Charles saved his own country, and, at that moment, all the rest of Europe, from this deluge of people, which had poureddown from Asia and Africa. Every Christian people returned a solemnthanksgiving, and saluted their deliverer as "the Hammer" of France. Butthe Saracens were not conquered; Charles did not even venture on theirpursuit; and a second invasion proved almost as terrifying; army stillpoured down on army, and it was long, and after many dubious results, that the Saracens were rooted out of France. Such is the history of oneof the most important events which has passed; but that of an eventwhich did not happen, would be the result of this famous conflict, hadthe Mahometan power triumphed! The Mahometan dominion had predominatedthrough Europe! The imagination is startled when it discovers how muchdepended on this invasion, at a time when there existed no politicalstate in Europe, no balance of power in one common tie of confederation!A single battle, and a single treason, had before made the Mahometanssovereigns of Spain. We see that the same events had nearly beenrepeated in France: and had the Crescent towered above the Cross, asevery appearance promised to the Saracenic hosts, the least of our evilshad now been, that we should have worn turbans, combed our beardsinstead of shaving them, have beheld a more magnificent architecturethan the Grecian, while the public mind had been bounded by the arts andliterature of the Moorish university of Cordova!

One of the great revolutions of Modern Europe perhaps had not occurred, had the personal feelings of Luther been respected, and had his personalinterest been consulted. Guicciardini, whose veracity we cannot suspect, has preserved a fact which proves how very nearly some important eventswhich have taken place, might not have happened! I transcribe thepassage from his thirteenth book: "Cæsar (the Emperor Charles theFifth), after he had given an hearing in the Diet of Worms to MartinLuther, and caused his opinions to be examined by a number of divines, who reported that his doctrine was erroneous and pernicious to theChristian religion, had, to gratify the pontiff, put him under the banof the empire, which so terrified Martin, that, if the injurious andthreatening words which were given him by Cardinal _San Sisto_, theapostolical legate, had not thrown him into the utmost despair, it isbelieved it would have been easy, by giving him some preferment, orproviding for him some honourable way of living, to make him renouncehis errors. " By this we may infer that one of the true authors of thereformation was this very apostolical legate; they had succeeded interrifying Luther; but they were not satisfied till they had insultedhim; and with such a temper as Luther's, the sense of personal insultwould remove even that of terror; it would unquestionably surviveit. [284] A similar proceeding with Franklin, from our ministers, issaid to have produced the same effect with that political sage. WhatGuicciardini has told of Luther preserves the sentiment of the times. Charles the Fifth was so fully persuaded that he could have put down theReformation, had he rid himself at once of the chief, that havinggranted Luther a safeguard to appear at the Council of Worms, in hislast moments he repented, as of a sin, that having had Luther in hishands he suffered him to escape; for to have violated his faith with aheretic he held to be no crime. 

In the history of religion, human instruments have been permitted to bethe great movers of its chief revolutions; and the most important eventsconcerning national religions appear to have depended on the passions ofindividuals, and the circumstances of the time. Impure means have oftenproduced the most glorious results; and this, perhaps, may be among thedispensations of Providence. 

A similar transaction occurred in Europe and in Asia. The motives andconduct of Constantine the Great, in the alliance of the Christian faithwith his government, are far more obvious than any one of thosequalities with which the panegyric of Eusebius so vainly cloaks over thecrimes and unchristian life of this polytheistical Christian. Inadopting a new faith as a _coup-d'état, _ and by investing the churchwith temporal power, at which Dante so indignantly exclaims, he foundedthe religion of Jesus, but corrupted its guardians. The same occurrencetook place in France under Clovis. The fabulous religion of Paganism wasfast on its decline; Clovis had resolved to unite the four differentprincipalities which divided Gaul into one empire. In the midst of animportant battle, as fortune hung doubtful between the parties, thepagan monarch invoked the God of his fair Christian queen, and obtainedthe victory! St. Remi found no difficulty in persuading Clovis, afterthe fortunate event, to adopt the Christian creed. Political reasons forsome time suspended the king's open conversion. At length the Franksfollowed their sovereign to the baptismal fonts. According to Pasquier, Naudé, and other political writers, these recorded miracles, [285] likethose of Constantine, were but inventions to authorise the change ofreligion. Clovis used the new creed as a lever by whose machinery hewould be enabled to crush the petty princes his neighbours; and, likeConstantine, Clovis, sullied by crimes of as dark a dye, obtained thetitle of "The Great. " Had not the most capricious "Defender of theFaith" been influenced by the most violent of passions, the Reformation, so feebly and so imperfectly begun and continued, had possibly neverfreed England from the papal thraldom;

 For Gospel light first beamed from Bullen's eyes. 

It is, however, a curious fact, that when the fall of Anne Bullen wasdecided on, Rome eagerly prepared a reunion with the papacy, on termstoo flattering for Henry to have resisted. It was only prevented takingplace by an incident that no human foresight could have predicted. Theday succeeding the decapitation of Anne Bullen witnessed the nuptials ofHenry with the protestant Jane Seymour. This changed the whole policy. The despatch from Rome came a day too late! From such a near disasterthe English Reformation escaped! The catholic Ward, in his singularHudibrastic poem of "England's Reformation, " in some odd rhymes, hascharacterised it by a _naïveté_, which we are much too delicate torepeat. The catholic writers censure Philip for recalling the Duke ofAlva from the Netherlands. According to these humane politicians, theunsparing sword, and the penal fires of this resolute captain, hadcertainly accomplished the fate of the heretics; for angry lions, however numerous, would find their numerical force diminished by gibbetsand pit-holes. We have lately been informed by a curious writer, thatprotestantism once existed in Spain, and was actually extirpated at themoment by the crushing arm of the Inquisition. [286] According to thesecatholic politicians, a great event in catholic history did notoccur--the spirit of catholicism, predominant in a land ofprotestants--from the Spanish monarch failing to support Alva infinishing what he had begun! Had the armada of Spain safely landed withthe benedictions of Rome, in England, at a moment when our own fleet wasshort of gunpowder, and at a time when the English catholics formed apowerful party in the nation, we might now be going to mass. 

After his immense conquests, had Gustavus Adolphus not perished in thebattle of Lutzen, where his genius obtained a glorious victory, unquestionably a wonderful change had operated on the affairs of Europe;the protestant cause had balanced, if not preponderated over, thecatholic interest; and Austria, which appeared a sort of universalmonarchy, had seen her eagle's wings clipped. But "the Antichrist, " asGustavus was called by the priests of Spain and Italy, the saviour ofprotestantism, as he is called by England and Sweden, whose deathoccasioned so many bonfires among the catholics, that the Spanish courtinterfered lest fuel should become too scarce at the approachingwinter--Gustavus fell--the fit hero for one of those great events whichhave never happened!

On the first publication of the "Icon Basiliké, " of Charles the First, the instantaneous effect produced on the nation was such, fiftyeditions, it is said, appearing in one year, that Mr. Malcolm Laingobserves, that "had this book, " a sacred volume to those who consideredthat sovereign as a martyr, "appeared a _week sooner_, it might havepreserved the king, " and possibly have produced a reaction of popularfeeling! The chivalrous Dundee made an offer to James the Second, which, had it been acted on, Mr. Laing acknowledges, might have producedanother change! What then had become of our "glorious Revolution, " whichfrom its earliest step, throughout the reign of William, was stillvacillating amidst the unstable opinions and contending interests of somany of its first movers?

The great political error of Cromwell is acknowledged by all parties tohave been the adoption of the French interest in preference to theSpanish; a strict alliance with Spain had preserved the balance ofEurope, enriched the commercial industry of England, and, above all, hadchecked the overgrowing power of the French government. Before Cromwellhad contributed to the predominance of the French power, the FrenchHuguenots were of consequence enough to secure an indulgent treatment. The parliament, as Elizabeth herself had formerly done, considered sopowerful a party in France as useful allies; and anxious to extend theprinciples of the Reformation, and to further the suppression of popery, the parliament had once listened to, and had even commenced a treatywith, deputies from Bordeaux, the purport of which was the assistance ofthe French Huguenots in their scheme of forming themselves into arepublic, or independent state; but Cromwell, on his usurpation, notonly overthrew the design, but is believed to have betrayed it toMazarin. What a change in the affairs of Europe had Cromwell adopted theSpanish interest, and assisted the French Huguenots in becoming anindependent state! The revocation of the edict of Nantes, and theincrease of the French dominion, which so long afterwards disturbed thepeace of Europe, were the consequence of this fatal error of Cromwell's. The independent state of the French Huguenots, and the reduction ofambitious France, perhaps to a secondary European power, had savedEurope from the scourge of the French revolution!

The elegant pen of Mr. Roscoe has lately afforded me another curioussketch of a _history of events which have not happened_. 

M. De Sismondi imagines, against the opinion of every historian, thatthe death of Lorenzo de' Medici was a matter of indifference to theprosperity of Italy; as "he could not have prevented the differentprojects which had been matured in the French cabinet for the invasionand conquest of Italy; and therefore he concludes that all historiansare mistaken who bestow on Lorenzo the honour of having preserved thepeace of Italy, because the great invasion that overthrew it did nottake place till two years after his death. " Mr. Roscoe hasphilosophically vindicated the honour which his hero has justlyreceived, by employing the principle which in this article has beendeveloped. "Though Lorenzo de' Medici could not perhaps have preventedthe important events that took place in other nations of Europe, it byno means follows that the life or death of Lorenzo was equallyindifferent to the affairs of Italy, or that circumstances would havebeen the same in case he had lived, as in the event of his death. " Mr. Roscoe then proceeds to show how Lorenzo's "prudent measures and properrepresentations might probably have prevented the French expedition, which Charles the Eighth was frequently on the point of abandoning. Lorenzo would not certainly have taken the precipitate measures of hisson Piero, in surrendering the Florentine fortresses. His family wouldnot in consequence have been expelled the city; a powerful mind mighthave influenced the discordant politics of the Italian princes in onecommon defence; a slight opposition to the fugitive army of France, atthe pass of Faro, might have given the French sovereigns a wholesomelesson, and prevented those bloody contests that were soon afterwardsrenewed in Italy. _As a single remove at chess varies the whole game_, so the death of an individual of such importance in the affairs ofEurope as Lorenzo de' Medici could not fail of producing such a changein its political relations as must have varied them in an incalculabledegree. " Pignotti also describes the state of Italy at this time. HadLorenzo lived to have seen his son elevated to the papacy, thishistorian, adopting our present principle, exclaims, "A happy era forItaly and Tuscany HAD THEN OCCURRED! On this head we can, indeed, beonly allowed to conjecture; but the fancy, guided by reason, mayexpatiate at will in this _imaginary state_, and contemplate Italyre-united by a stronger bond, flourishing under its own institutions andarts, and delivered from all those lamented struggles which occurredwithin so short a period of time. "

Whitaker, in his "Vindication of Mary Queen of Scots, " has a speculationin the true spirit of this article. When such dependence was made uponElizabeth's dying without issue, the Countess of Shrewsbury had her sonpurposely residing in London, with two good and able horses continuallyready to give the earliest intelligence of the sick Elizabeth's death tothe imprisoned Mary. On this the historian observes, "And had this _notimprobable event actually taken place, what a different complexion wouldour history have assumed from what it wears at present!_ Mary would havebeen carried from a prison to a throne. Her wise conduct in prison wouldhave been applauded by all. From Tutbury, from Sheffield, and fromChatsworth, she would have been said to have touched with a gentle andmasterly hand the springs that actuated all the nation, against thedeath of her tyrannical cousin, " &c. So ductile is history in the handsof man! and so peculiarly does it bend to the force of success, and warpwith the warmth of prosperity!

Thus important events have been nearly occurring, which, however, didnot take place; and others have happened which may be traced toaccident, and to the character of an individual. We shall enlarge ourconception of the nature of human events, and gather some usefulinstruction in our historical reading by pausing at intervals;contemplating, for a moment, _on certain events which have nothappened_!

OF FALSE POLITICAL REPORTS. 

"A false report, if believed during three days, may be of great serviceto a government. " This political maxim has been ascribed to Catharinede' Medici, an adept in _coups d'état_, the _arcana imperii_! Betweensolid lying and disguised truth there is a difference known to writersskilled in "the art of governing mankind by deceiving them;" aspolitics, ill-understood, have been defined, and as, indeed, allparty-politics are. These forgers prefer to use the truth disguised tothe gross fiction. When the real truth can no longer be concealed, thenthey can confidently refer to it; for they can still explain andobscure, while they secure on their side the party whose cause they haveadvocated. A curious reader of history may discover the temporary andsometimes the lasting advantages of spreading rumours designed todisguise, or to counteract the real state of things. Such reports, set agoing, serve to break down the sharp and fatal point of a panic, whichmight instantly occur; in this way the public is saved from the horrorsof consternation, and the stupefaction of despair. These rumours give abreathing time to prepare for the disaster, which is doled outcautiously; and, as might be shown, in some cases these first reportshave left an event in so ambiguous a state, that a doubt may still arisewhether these reports were really destitute of truth! Such reports, onceprinted, enter into history, and sadly perplex the honest historian. Ofa battle fought in a remote situation, both parties for a long time, athome, may dispute the victory after the event, and the pen may prolongwhat the sword had long decided. This has been no unusual circumstance;of several of the most important battles on which the fate of Europe hashung, were we to rely on some reports of the time, we might still doubtof the manner of the transaction. A skirmish has been often raised intoan _arranged_ battle, and a defeat concealed in an account of thekilled and wounded, while victory has been claimed by both parties!Villeroy, in all his encounters with Marlborough, always sent homedespatches by which no one could suspect that he was discomfited. Pompey, after his fatal battle with Cæsar, sent letters to all theprovinces and cities of the Romans, describing with greater courage thanhe had fought, so that a report generally prevailed that Caesar had lostthe battle: Plutarch informs us, that three hundred writers haddescribed the battle of Marathon. Many doubtless had copied theirpredecessors; but it would perhaps have surprised us to have observedhow materially some differed in their narratives. 

In looking over a collection of manuscript letters of the times of Jamesthe First, I was struck by the contradictory reports of the result ofthe famous battle of Lutzen, so glorious and so fatal to GustavusAdolphus; the victory was sometimes reported to have been obtained bythe Swedes; but a general uncertainty, a sort of mystery, agitated themajority of the nation, who were staunch to the protestant cause. Thisstate of anxious suspense lasted a considerable time. The fatal truthgradually came _out in reports changing in their progress_; if thevictory was allowed, the death of the Protestant Hero closed all hope!The historian of Gustavus Adolphus observes on this occasion, that "Fewcouriers were better received than those who conveyed the accounts ofthe king's death to declared enemies or concealed ill-wishers; nor didthe report greatly displease the court of Whitehall, where the ministry, as it usually happens in cases of timidity, had its degree ofapprehensions for fear the event should not be true; and, as I havelearnt from good authority, imposed silence on the news-writers, andintimated the same to the pulpit in case any funeral encomium mightproceed from that quarter. " Although the motive assigned by the writer, that of the secret indisposition of the cabinet of James the Firsttowards the fortunes of Gustavus, is to me by no means certain, unquestionably the knowledge of this disastrous event was long kept backby "a timid ministry, " and the fluctuating reports probably regulated bytheir designs. 

The same circumstance occurred on another important event in modernhistory, where we may observe the artifice of party writers indisguising or suppressing the real fact. This was the famous battle ofthe Boyne. The French catholic party long reported that Count Lauzun hadwon the battle, and that William the Third was killed. Bussy Rabutin insome memoirs, in which he appears to have registered public eventswithout scrutinising their truth, says, "I chronicled this accountaccording as the first reports gave out; when at length the real factreached them, the party did not like to lose their pretended victory. "Père Londel, who published a register of the times, which is favourablynoticed in the "Nouvelles de la République des Lettres, " for 1699, hasrecorded the event in this deceptive manner: "The Battle of the Boyne inIreland; Schomberg is killed there at the head of the English. " This is"an equivocator!" The writer resolved to conceal the defeat of James'sparty, and cautiously suppresses any mention of a victory, but verycarefully gives a real fact, by which his readers would hardly doubt ofthe defeat of the English! We are so accustomed to this traffic of falsereports, that we are scarcely aware that many important events recordedin history were in their day strangely disguised by such mystifyingaccounts. This we can only discover by reading private letters writtenat the moment. Bayle has collected several remarkable absurdities ofthis kind, which were spread abroad to answer a temporary purpose, butwhich had never been known to us had these contemporary letters not beenpublished. A report was prevalent in Holland in 1580, that the kings ofFrance and Spain and the Duke of Alva were dead; a felicity which for atime sustained the exhausted spirits of the revolutionists. At theinvasion of the Spanish Armada, Burleigh spread reports of thethumb-screws, and other instruments of torture, which the Spaniards hadbrought with them, and thus inflamed the hatred of the nation. Thehorrid story of the bloody Colonel Kirk is considered as one of thosepolitical forgeries to serve the purpose of blackening a zealouspartisan. 

False reports are sometimes stratagems of war. When the chiefs of theLeague had lost the battle at Ivry, with an army broken and discomfitedthey still kept possession of Paris merely by imposing on theinhabitants all sorts of false reports, such as the death of the king ofNavarre at the fortunate moment when victory, undetermined on which sideto incline, turned for the Leaguers; and they gave out false reports ofa number of victories they had elsewhere obtained. Such tales, distributed in pamphlets and ballads among a people agitated by doubtsand fears, are gladly believed; flattering their wishes or soothingtheir alarms, they contribute to their ease, and are too agreeable toallow time for reflection. 

The history of a report creating a panic may be traced in the Irishinsurrection, in the curious memoirs of James the Second. A forgedproclamation of the Prince of Orange was set forth by one Speke, and arumour spread that the Irish troops were killing and burning in allparts of the kingdom! A magic-like panic instantly ran through thepeople, so that in one quarter of the town of Drogheda they imaginedthat the other was filled with blood and ruin. During this panicpregnant women miscarried, aged persons died with terror, while thetruth was, that the Irish themselves were disarmed and dispersed, inutter want of a meal or a lodging!

In the unhappy times of our civil wars under Charles the First, thenewspapers and the private letters afford specimens of this politicalcontrivance of false reports of every species. No extravagance ofinvention to spread a terror against a party was too gross, and the cityof London was one day alarmed that the royalists were occupied by a planof blowing up the river Thames, by an immense quantity of powderwarehoused at the river-side; and that there existed an organised thoughinvisible brotherhood of many thousands with _consecrated knives_; andthose who hesitated to give credit to such rumours were branded asmalignants, who took not the danger of the parliament to heart. Forgedconspiracies and reports of great but distant victories were inventionsto keep up the spirit of a party, but oftener prognosticated someintended change in the government. When they were desirous of augmentingthe army, or introducing new garrisons, or using an extreme measure withthe city, or the royalists, there was always a new conspiracy setafloat; or when any great affair was to be carried in parliament, letters of great victories were published to dishearten the opposition, and infuse additional boldness in their own party. If the report lastedonly a few days, it obtained its purpose, and verified the observationof Catharine de' Medici. Those politicians who raise such false reportsobtain their end: like the architect who, in building an arch, supportsit with circular props and pieces of timber, or any temporary rubbish, till he closes the arch; and when it can support itself, he throws awaythe props! There is no class of political lying which can want forillustration if we consult the records of our civil wars; there we maytrace the whole art in all the nice management of its shades, itsqualities, and its more complicated parts, from invective to puff, andfrom inuendo to prevarication! we may admire the scrupulous correctionof a lie which they had told, by another which they are telling! andtriple lying to overreach their opponents. Royalists andParliamentarians were alike; for, to tell one great truth, "the fatherof lies" is of no party![287]

As "nothing is new under the sun, " so this art of deceiving the publicwas unquestionably practised among the ancients. Syphax sent Scipio wordthat he could not unite with the Romans, but, on the contrary, haddeclared for the Carthaginians. The Roman army were then anxiouslywaiting for his expected succours: Scipio was careful to show the utmostcivility to these ambassadors, and ostentatiously treated them withpresents, that his soldiers might believe they were only returning tohasten the army of Syphax to join the Romans. Livy censures the Romanconsul, who, after the defeat at Cannæ, told the deputies of the alliesthe whole loss they had sustained: "This consul, " says Livy, "by givingtoo faithful and open an account of his defeat, made both himself andhis army appear still more contemptible. " The result of the simplicityof the consul was, that the allies, despairing that the Romans wouldever recover their losses, deemed it prudent to make terms withHannibal. Plutarch tells an amusing story, in his way, of the naturalprogress of a report which was contrary to the wishes of the government;the unhappy reporter suffered punishment as long as the rumourprevailed, though at last it proved true. A stranger landing fromSicily, at a barber's shop, delivered all the particulars of the defeatof the Athenians; of which, however, the people were yet uninformed. Thebarber leaves untrimmed the reporter's beard, and flies away to vent thenews in the city, where he told the Archons what he had heard. The wholecity was thrown into a ferment. The Archons called an assembly of thepeople, and produced the luckless barber, who in confusion could notgive any satisfactory account of the first reporter. He was condemned asa spreader of false news, and a disturber of the public quiet; for theAthenians could not imagine but that they were invincible! The barberwas dragged to the wheel and tortured, till the disaster was more thanconfirmed. Bayle, referring to this story, observes, that had the barberreported a victory, though it had proved to be false, he would not havebeen punished; a shrewd observation, which occurred to him from hisrecollection of the fate of Stratocles. This person persuaded theAthenians to perform a public sacrifice and thanksgiving for a victoryobtained at sea, though he well knew at the time that the Athenian fleethad been totally defeated. When the calamity could no longer beconcealed, the people charged him with being an impostor: but Stratoclessaved his life and mollified their anger by the pleasant turn he gavethe whole affair. "Have I done you any injury?" said he. "Is it notowing to me that you have spent three days in the pleasures of victory?"I think that this spreader of good, but fictitious news, should haveoccupied the wheel of the luckless barber, who had spread bad but truenews; for the barber had no intention of deception, but Stratocles had;and the question here to be tried, was not the truth or the falsity ofthe reports, but whether the reporters intended to deceive theirfellow-citizens? The "Chronicle" and the "Post" must be challenged onsuch a jury, and all the race of news-scribes, whom Patin characterisesas _hominum genus audacissimum mendacissimum avidissimum_. Latinsuperlatives are too rich to suffer a translation. But what Patin saysin his Letter 356 may be applied: "These writers insert in their papersthings they do not know, and ought not to write. It is the same trickthat is playing which was formerly played; it is the very same farce, only it is exhibited by new actors. The worst circumstance, I think, inthis is, that this trick will continue playing a long course of years, and that the public suffer a great deal too much by it. "

OF SUPPRESSORS AND DILAPIDATORS OF MANUSCRIPTS. 

Manuscripts are suppressed or destroyed from motives which require to benoticed. Plagiarists, at least, have the merit of preservation: they mayblush at their artifices, and deserve the pillory, but their practicesdo not incur the capital crime of felony. Serassi, the writer of thecurious Life of Tasso, was guilty of an extraordinary suppression in hiszeal for the poet's memory. The story remains to be told, for it is butlittle known. 

Galileo, in early life, was a lecturer at the university of Pisa:delighting in poetical studies, he was then more of a critic than aphilosopher, and had Ariosto by heart. This great man caught theliterary mania which broke out about his time, when the Cruscans soabsurdly began their "Controversie Tassesche, " and raised up twopoetical factions, which infected the Italians with a national fever. Tasso and Ariosto were perpetually weighed and outweighed against eachother; Galileo wrote annotations on Tasso, stanza after stanza, andwithout reserve, treating the majestic bard with a severity which musthave thrown the Tassoists into an agony. Our critic lent his manuscriptto Jacopo Mazzoni, who, probably being a disguised Tassoist, by someaccountable means contrived that the manuscript should be absolutelylost!--to the deep regret of the author and all the Ariostoists. Thephilosopher descended to his grave--not without occasional groans--norwithout exulting reminiscences of the blows he had in his youthinflicted on the great rival of Ariosto--and the rumour of such a worklong floated on tradition! Two centuries had nearly elapsed, whenSerassi, employed on his elaborate Life of Tasso, among hisuninterrupted researches in the public libraries of Rome, discovered amiscellaneous volume, in which, on a cursory examination, he founddeposited the lost manuscript of Galileo! It was a shock from which, perhaps, the zealous biographer of Tasso never fairly recovered; theawful name of Galileo sanctioned the asperity of critical decision, andmore particularly the severe remarks on the language, a subject on whichthe Italians are so morbidly delicate, and so trivially grave. Serassi'sconduct on this occasion was at once political, timorous, and cunning. Gladly would he have annihilated the original, but this was impossible!It was some consolation that the manuscript was totally unknown--forhaving got mixed with others, it had accidentally been passed over, andnot entered into the catalogue; his own diligent eye only had detectedits existence. "_Nessuno fin ora sa, fuori di me, se vi sia, nè dovesia, e cosi non potrà darsi alia luce_, " &c. But in the true spirit of acollector, avaricious of all things connected with his pursuits, Serassicautiously, but completely, transcribed the precious manuscript, with anintention, according to his memorandum, to unravel all its sophistry. However, although the Abbate never wanted leisure, he persevered in hissilence; yet he often trembled lest some future explorer of manuscriptsmight be found as sharpsighted as himself. He was so cautious as noteven to venture to note down the library where the manuscript was to befound, and to this day no one appears to have fallen on the volume! Onthe death of Serassi, his papers came to the hands of the Duke of Ceri, a lover of literature; the transcript of the yet undiscovered originalwas then revealed! and this secret history of the manuscript was drawnfrom a note on the title-page written by Serassi himself. To satisfy theurgent curiosity of the literati, these annotations on Tasso by Galileowere published in 1793. Here is a work, which, from its earliest stage, much pains had been taken to suppress; but Serassi's collecting passioninducing him to preserve what he himself so much wished should neverappear, finally occasioned its publication! It adds one evidence to themany which prove that such sinister practices have been frequently usedby the historians of a party, poetic or politic. 

Unquestionably this entire suppression of manuscripts has been toofrequently practised. It is suspected that our historical antiquary, Speed, owed many obligations to the learned Hugh Broughton, for hepossessed a vast number of his MSS. Which he burnt. Why did he burn? Ifpersons place themselves in suspicions situations, they must notcomplain if they be suspected. We have had historians who, whenever theymet with information which has not suited their historical system, ortheir inveterate prejudices, have employed interpolations, castrations, and forgeries, and in some cases have annihilated the entire document. Leland's invaluable manuscripts were left at his death in the confusedstate in which the mind of the writer had sunk, overcome by hisincessant labours, when this royal antiquary was employed by Henry theEighth to write our national antiquities. His scattered manuscripts werelong a common prey to many who never acknowledged their fountain head;among these suppressors and dilapidators pre-eminently stands the craftyItalian Polydore Vergil, who not only drew largely from this source, but, to cover the robbery, did not omit to depreciate the father of ourantiquities--an act of a piece with the character of the man, who issaid to have collected and burnt a greater number of historical MSS. Than would have loaded a wagon, to prevent the detection of the numerousfabrications in his history of England, which was composed to gratifyMary and the Catholic cause. 

The Harleian manuscript, 7379, is a collection of state-letters. ThisMS. Has four leaves entirely torn out, and is accompanied by thisextraordinary memorandum, signed by the principal librarian. 

 "Upon examination of this book, Nov. 12, 1764, these four last leaves were torn out. "C. MORTON. "Mem. Nov. 12, sent down to Mrs. Macaulay. "

As no memorandum of the name of any student to whom a manuscript isdelivered for his researches was ever made, before or since, or in thenature of things will ever be, this memorandum must involve our femalehistorian in the obloquy of this dilapidation. [288] Such dishonestpractices of party feeling, indeed, are not peculiar to any party. InRoscoe's "Illustrations" of his Life of Lorenzo de' Medici, we discoverthat Fabroni, whose character scarcely admits of suspicion, appears tohave known of the existence of an unpublished letter of Sixtus IV. , which involves that pontiff deeply in the assassination projected by thePazzi; but he carefully suppressed its notice: yet, in his conscience, he could not avoid alluding to such documents, which he concealed by hissilence. Roscoe has apologised for Fabroni overlooking this decisiveevidence of the guilt of the hypocritical pontiff in the mass ofmanuscripts; a circumstance not likely to have occurred, however, tothis laborious historical inquirer. All party feeling is the same activespirit with an opposite direction. We have a remarkable case, where amost interesting historical production has been silently annihilated bythe consent of _both parties_. There once existed an important diary ofa very extraordinary character, Sir George Saville, afterwards Marquisof Halifax. This master-spirit, for such I am inclined to consider theauthor of the little book of "Maxims and Reflections, " with aphilosophical indifference, appears to have held in equal contempt allthe factions of his times, and consequently has often incurred theirsevere censures. Among other things, the Marquis of Halifax had noteddown the conversation he had had with Charles the Second, and the greatand busy characters of the age. Of this curious secret history thereexisted two copies, and the noble writer imagined that by this means hehad carefully secured their existence; yet both copies were destroyedfrom opposite motives; the one at the instigation of Pope, who wasalarmed at finding some of the catholic intrigues of the courtdeveloped; and the other at the suggestion of a noble friend, who wasequally shocked at discovering that his party, the Revolutionists, hadsometimes practised mean and dishonourable deceptions. It is in theselegacies of honourable men, of whatever party they may be, that weexpect to find truth and sincerity; but thus it happens that the lasthope of posterity is frustrated by the artifices, or the malignity, ofthese party-passions. Pulteney, afterwards the Earl of Bath, had alsoprepared memoirs of his times, which he proposed to confide to Dr. Douglas, bishop of Salisbury, to be composed by the bishop; but hislordship's heir, the General, insisted on destroying these authenticdocuments, of the value of which we have a notion by one of thoseconversations which the earl was in the habit of indulging with Hooke, whom he at that time appears to have intended for his historian. TheEarl of Anglesea's MS. History of the Troubles of Ireland, and also aDiary of his own Times, have been suppressed; a busy observer of hiscontemporaries, his tale would materially have assisted a laterhistorian. 

The same hostility to manuscripts, as may be easily imagined, hasoccurred, perhaps more frequently, on the continent. I shall furnish oneconsiderable fact. A French canon, Claude Joly, a bold and learnedwriter, had finished an ample life of Erasmus, which included a historyof the restoration of literature at the close of the fifteenth and thebeginning of the sixteenth century. Colomiés tells us, that the authorhad read over the works of Erasmus seven times; we have positiveevidence that the MS. Was finished for the press: the Cardinal doNoailles would examine the work himself; this important history was notonly suppressed, but the hope entertained, of finding it among thecardinal's papers, was never realised. 

These are instances of the annihilation of history; but there is apartial suppression, or castration of passages, equally fatal to thecause of truth; a practice too prevalent among the first editors ofmemoirs. By such deprivations of the text we have lost important truths, while, in some cases, by interpolations, we have been loaded with thefictions of a party. Original memoirs, when published, should now bedeposited at that great institution, consecrated to our nationalhistory--the British Museum, to be verified at all times. In LordHerbert's history of Henry the Eighth, I find, by a manuscript note, that several things were not permitted to be printed, and that theoriginal MS. Was supposed to be in Mr. Sheldon's custody, in 1687. Camden told Sir Robert Filmore that he was not suffered to print all hisannals of Elizabeth; but he providently sent these expurgated passagesto De Thou, who printed them faithfully; and it is remarkable that DeThou himself used the same precaution in the continuation of his ownhistory. We like remote truths, but truths too near us never fail toalarm ourselves, our connexions, and our party. Milton, in composing hisHistory of England, introduced, in the third book, a very remarkabledigression, on the characters of the Long Parliament; a most animateddescription of a class of political adventurers with whom modern historyhas presented many parallels. From tenderness to a party then imaginedto be subdued, it was struck out by command, nor do I find it restitutedin Kennett's Collection of English Histories. This admirable andexquisite delineation has been preserved in a pamphlet printed in 1681, which has fortunately exhibited one of the warmest pictures in designand colouring by a master's hand. One of our most important volumes ofsecret history, "Whitelocke's Memorials, " was published by Arthur, Earlof Anglesea, in 1682, who took considerable liberties with themanuscript; another edition appeared in 1732, which restored the manyimportant passages through which the earl appears to have struck hiscastrating pen. The restitution of the castrated passages has not muchincreased the magnitude of this folio volume; for the omissions usuallyconsisted of a characteristic stroke, or short critical opinion, whichdid not harmonise with the private feelings of the Earl of Anglesea. Inconsequence of the volume not being much enlarged to the eye, and beingunaccompanied by a single line of preface to inform us of the value ofthis more complete edition, the booksellers imagine that there can be nomaterial difference between the two editions, and wonder at thebibliopolical mystery that they can afford to sell the edition of 1682at ten shillings, and have five guineas for the edition of 1732! Humewho, I have been told, wrote his history usually on a sofa, with theepicurean indolence of his fine genius, always refers to the oldtruncated and faithless edition of Whitelocke--so little in his day didthe critical history of books enter into the studies of authors, or suchwas the carelessness of our historian! There is more philosophy in_editions_ than some philosophers are aware of. Perhaps most "Memoirs"have been unfaithfully published, "curtailed of their fair proportions;"and not a few might be noticed which subsequent editors have restored totheir original state, by uniting their dislocated limbs. UnquestionablyPassion has sometimes annihilated manuscripts, and tamely revengeditself on the papers of hated writers! Louis the Fourteenth, with hisown hands, after the death of Fénélon, burnt all the manuscripts whichthe Duke of Burgundy had preserved of his preceptor. 

As an example of the suppressors and dilapidators of manuscripts, Ishall give an extraordinary fact concerning Louis the Fourteenth, morein his favour. His character appears, like some other historicalpersonages, equally disguised by adulation and calumny. That monarch wasnot the Nero which his revocation of the edict of Nantes made him seemto the French protestants. He was far from approving of the violentmeasures of his catholic clergy. This opinion of that sovereign was, however, carefully suppressed, when his "Instructions to the Dauphin"were first published. It is now ascertained that Louis the Fourteenthwas for many years equally zealous and industrious; and, among otheruseful attempts, composed an elaborate "Discours" for the dauphin forhis future conduct. The king gave his manuscript to Pelisson to revise;but after the revision our royal writer frequently inserted additionalparagraphs. The work first appeared in an anonymous "Récueil d'OpusculesLittéraires, Amsterdam, 1767, " which Barbier, in his "Anonymes, " tellsus was "rédigé par Pelisson; le tout publié par l'Abbé Olivet. " When atlength the printed work was collated with the manuscript original, several suppressions of the royal sentiments appeared; and the editors, too catholic, had, with more particular caution, thrown aside whatclearly showed Louis the Fourteenth was far from approving of theviolences used against the protestants. The following passage wasentirely omitted: "It seems to me, my son, that those who employ extremeand violent remedies do not know the nature of the evil, occasioned inpart by heated minds, which, left to themselves, would insensibly beextinguished, rather than rekindle them afresh by the force ofcontradiction; above all, when the corruption is not confined to a smallnumber, but diffused through all parts of the state; besides, theReformers said many true things! The best method to have reduced littleby little the Huguenots of my kingdom, was not to have pursued them byany direct severity pointed at them. "

Lady Mary Wortley Montague is a remarkable instance of an author nearlylost to the nation; she is only known to posterity by a chancepublication; for such were her famous Turkish letters, the manuscript ofwhich her family once purchased with an intention to suppress, but theywere frustrated by a transcript. The more recent letters werereluctantly extracted out of the family trunks, and surrendered inexchange for certain family documents, which had fallen into the handsof a bookseller. Had it depended on her relatives, the name of Lady Maryhad only reached us in the satires of Pope. The greater part of herepistolary correspondence was destroyed by her mother; and what thatgood and Gothic lady spared, was suppressed by the hereditary austerityof rank, of which her family was too susceptible. The entirecorrespondence of this admirable writer and studious woman (for once, inperusing some unpublished letters of Lady Mary's, I discovered that "shehad been in the habit of reading seven hours a day for many years")would undoubtedly have exhibited a fine statue, instead of the torso wenow possess; and we might have lived with her ladyship, as we do withMadame de Sévigné. This I have mentioned elsewhere; but I have sincediscovered that a considerable correspondence of Lady Mary's, for morethan twenty years, with the widow of Colonel Forrester, who had retiredto Rome, has been stifled in the birth. These letters, with other MSS. Of Lady Mary's, were given by Mrs. Forrester to Philip Thicknesse, witha discretionary power to publish. They were held as a great acquisitionby Thicknesse, and his bookseller; but when they had printed off thefirst thousand sheets, there were parts which they considered might givepain to some of the family. Thicknesse says, "Lady Mary had in manyplaces been uncommonly severe upon her husband, for all her letters wereloaded with a scrap or two of poetry at him. "[289] A negotiation tookplace with an agent of Lord Bute's; after some time Miss Forrester putin her claims for the MSS. ; and the whole terminated, as Thicknessetells us, in her obtaining a pension, and Lord Bute all the MSS. 

The late Duke of Bridgewater, I am informed, burnt many of the numerousfamily papers, and bricked up a quantity, which, when opened after hisdeath, were found to have perished. It is said he declared that he didnot choose that his ancestors should be traced back to a person of amean trade, which it seems might possibly have been the case. The lossnow cannot be appreciated; but unquestionably stores of history, andperhaps of literature, were sacrificed. Milton's manuscript of Comus waspublished from the Bridgewater collection, for it had escaped thebricking up!

Manuscripts of great interest are frequently suppressed from theshameful indifference of the possessors. 

Mr. Mathias, in his Essay on Gray, tells us, that "in addition to thevaluable manuscripts of Mr. Gray, there is reason to think that therewere some other papers, _folia Sibyllæ_, in the possession of Mr. Mason;but though a very diligent and anxious inquiry has been made after them, they cannot be discovered since his death. There was, however, onefragment, by Mr. Mason's own description of it, of very great value, namely, "The Plan of an intended Speech in Latin on his appointment asProfessor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge. " Mr. Masonsays, "Immediately on his appointment, Mr. Gray sketched out anadmirable plan for his inauguration speech; in which, after enumeratingthe preparatory and auxiliary studies requisite, such as ancienthistory, geography, chronology, &c. , he descended to the authenticsources of the science, such as public treaties, state records, privatecorrespondence of ambassadors, &c. He also wrote the exordium of thisthesis, not, indeed, so correct as to be given by way of fragment, butso spirited in point of sentiment, as leaves it much to be regrettedthat he did not proceed to its conclusion. " This fragment cannot now befound; and after so very interesting a description of its value and ofits importance, it is difficult to conceive how Mr. Mason could prevailupon himself to withhold it. If there be a subject on which more, perhaps, than on any other, it would have been peculiarly desirable toknow and to follow the train of the ideas of Gray, it is that of modernhistory, in which no man was more intimately, more accurately, or moreextensively conversant than our poet. A sketch or plan from his hand, onthe subjects of history, and on those which belonged to it, might havetaught succeeding ages how to conduct these important researches withnational advantage; and, like some wand of divination, it might have

 Pointed to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. [290] DRYDEN. 

I suspect that I could point out the place in which these precious"folia Sibyllæ" of Gray's lie interred; they would no doubt be foundamong other Sibylline leaves of Mason, in two large boxes, which he leftto the care of his executors. These gentlemen, as I am informed, are soextremely careful of them, as to have intrepidly resisted theimportunity of some lovers of literature, whose curiosity has beenaroused by the secreted treasures. It is a misfortune which hasfrequently attended this sort of bequests of literary men, that theyhave left their manuscripts, like their household furniture; and inseveral cases we find that many legatees conceive that all manuscriptsare either to be burnt, like obsolete receipts, or to be nailed down ina box, that they may not stir a lawsuit!

In a manuscript note of the times, I find that Sir Richard Baker, theauthor of a chronicle, formerly the most popular one, died in the Fleet;and that his son-in-law, who had all his papers, burnt them forwaste-paper; and he said that "he thought Sir Richard's life was amongthem!" An autobiography of those days which we should now highly prize. 

Among these mutilators of manuscripts we cannot too stronglyremonstrate with those who have the care of the works of others, andconvert them into a vehicle for their own particular purposes, even whenthey run directly counter to the knowledge and opinions of the originalwriter. Hard was the fate of honest Anthony Wood, when Dr. Fellundertook to have his history of Oxford translated into Latin; thetranslator, a sullen, dogged fellow, when he observed that Wood wasenraged at seeing the perpetual alterations of his copy made to pleaseDr. Fell, delighted to alter it the more; while the greater executionersupervising the printed sheets, by "correcting, altering, or dashing outwhat he pleased, " compelled the writer publicly to disavow his own work!Such I have heard was the case of Bryan Edwards, who composed the firstaccounts of Mungo Park. Bryan Edwards, whose personal interests wereopposed to the abolishment of the slave-trade, would not suffer anypassage to stand in which the African traveller had expressed hisconviction of its inhumanity. Park, among confidential friends, frequently complained that his work did not only not contain hisopinions, but was even interpolated with many which he utterlydisclaimed!

Suppressed books become as rare as manuscripts. In some researchesrelating to the history of the Mar-prelate faction, that ardentconspiracy against the established hierarchy, and of which the very nameis but imperfectly to be traced in our history, I discovered that thebooks and manuscripts of the Mar-prelates have been too cautiouslysuppressed, or too completely destroyed; while those on the other sidehave been as carefully preserved. In our national collection, theBritish Museum, we find a great deal against Mar-prelate, but notMar-prelate himself. 

I have written the history of this conspiracy in the third, volume of"Quarrels of Authors. "

PARODIES. 

A Lady of _bas bleu_ celebrity (the term is getting odious, particularlyto our _sçavantes_) had two friends, whom she equally admired--anelegant poet and his parodist. She had contrived to prevent theirmeeting as long as her stratagems lasted, till at length she apologisedto the serious bard for inviting him when his mock _umbra_ was to bepresent. Astonished, she perceived that both men of genius felt a mutualesteem for each other's opposite talent; the ridiculed had perceived nomalignity in the playfulness of the parody, and even seemed to considerit as a compliment, aware that parodists do not waste their talent onobscure productions; while the ridiculer himself was very sensible thathe was the inferior poet. The lady-critic had imagined that PARODY mustnecessarily be malicious; and in some cases it is said those on whom theparody has been performed have been of the same opinion. 

Parody strongly resembles mimicry, a principle in human nature not soartificial as it appears: Man may be well defined a mimetic animal. TheAfrican boy, who amused the whole kafle he journeyed with, by mimickingthe gestures and the voice of the auctioneer who had sold him at theslave-market a few days before, could have had no sense of scorn, ofsuperiority, or of malignity; the boy experienced merely the pleasure ofrepeating attitudes and intonations which had so forcibly excited hisinterest. The numerous parodies of Hamlet's soliloquy were never made inderision of that solemn monologue, any more than the travesties ofVirgil by Scarron and Cotton; their authors were never so gaily mad asthat. We have parodies on the Psalms by Luther; Dodsley parodied thebook of Chronicles, and the scripture style was parodied by Franklin inhis beautiful story of Abraham; a story he found in Jeremy Taylor, andwhich Taylor borrowed from the East, for it is preserved in the PersianSadi. Not one of these writers, however, proposed to ridicule theiroriginals; some ingenuity in the application was all they intended. Thelady-critic alluded to had suffered by a panic, in imagining that aparody was necessarily a corrosive satire. Had she indeed proceeded onestep farther, and asserted that parodies might be classed among the mostmalicious inventions in literature, when they are such as Colman andLloyd made on Gray, in their odes to "Oblivion and Obscurity, " herreading possibly might have supplied the materials of the presentresearch. 

Parodies were frequently practised by the ancients, and with them, likeourselves, consisted of a work grafted on another work, but which turnedon a different subject by a slight change of the expressions. It mightbe a sport of fancy, the innocent child of mirth; or a satirical arrowdrawn from the quiver of caustic criticism; or it was that malignantart which only studies to make the original of the parody, howeverbeautiful, contemptible and ridiculous. Human nature thus enters intothe composition of parodies, and their variable character originates inthe purpose of their application. 

There is in "the million" a natural taste for farce after tragedy, andthey gladly relieve themselves by mitigating the solemn seriousness ofthe tragic drama; for they find, that it is but "a step from the sublimeto the ridiculous. " The taste for parody will, I fear, always prevail:for whatever tends to ridicule a work of genius, is usually veryagreeable to a great number of contemporaries. In the history ofparodies, some of the learned have noticed a supposititiouscircumstance, which, however, may have happened, for it is a verynatural one. When the rhapsodists, who strolled from town to town tochant different fragments of the poems of Homer, had recited, they wereimmediately followed by another set of strollers--buffoons, who made thesame audience merry by the burlesque turn which they gave to the solemnstrains which had just so deeply engaged their attention. It is supposedthat we have one of these travestiers of the Iliad in one Sotades, whosucceeded by only changing the measure of the verses without alteringthe words, which entirely disguised the Homeric character; fragments ofwhich, scattered in Dionysius Halicarnassensis, I leave to the curiosityof the learned Grecian. [291] Homer's Battle of the Frogs and Mice, alearned critic, the elder Heinsius, asserts, was not written by thepoet, but is a parody on the poem. It is evidently as good-humoured anone as any in the "Rejected Addresses. " And it was because Homer was themost popular poet that he was most susceptible of the playful honours ofthe parodist; unless the prototype is familiar to us a parody isnothing! Of these parodists of Homer we may regret the loss of one, Timon of Philius, whose parodies were termed Silli, from Silenus beingtheir chief personage; he levelled them at the sophistical philosophersof his age; his invocation is grafted on the opening of the Iliad, torecount the evil-doings of those babblers, whom he compares to the bagsin which Æolus deposited all his winds; balloons inflated with emptyideas! We should like to have appropriated some of these _silli_, orparodies of Timon the Sillograph, which, however, seem to have been attimes calumnious. [292] Shenstone's "School Mistress, " and some few otherludicrous poems, derive much of their merit from parody. 

This taste for parodies was very prevalent with the Grecians, and is aspecies of humour which perhaps has been too rarely practised by themoderns: Cervantes has some passages of this nature in his parodies ofthe old chivalric romances; Fielding, in some parts of his "Tom Jones"and "Joseph Andrews, " in his burlesque poetical descriptions; and Swift, in his "Battle of Books, " and "Tale of a Tub;" but few writers haveequalled the delicacy and felicity of Pope's parodies in the "Rape ofthe Lock. " Such parodies give refinement to burlesque. 

The ancients made a liberal use of it in their satirical comedy, andsometimes carried it on through an entire work, as in the Menippeansatire, Seneca's mock _Eloge_ of Claudius, and Lucian in his Dialogues. There are parodies even in Plato; and an anecdotical one, recorded ofthis philosopher, shows them in their most simple state. Dissatisfiedwith his own poetical essays, he threw them into the flames; that is, the sage resolved to sacrifice his verses to the god of fire; and inrepeating that line in Homer where Thetis addresses Vulcan to implorehis aid, the application became a parody, although it required no otherchange than the insertion of the philosopher's name instead of thegoddess's;--[293]

 Vulcan, arise! 'tis _Plato_ claims thy aid!

Boileau affords a happy instance of this simple parody. Corneille, inhis Cid, makes one of his personages remark, Pour grands que soient les rois ils sont ce que nous sommes, Ils peuvent se tromper comme les autres hommes. 

A slight alteration became a fine parody in Boileau's ChapelainDécoiffé, Pour grands que soient les rois ils sont ce que nous sommes, Us fee trompent _en vers_ comme les autres hommes. 

We find in Athenæus the name of the inventor of a species of parodywhich more immediately engages our notice--DRAMATIC PARODIES. It appearsthis inventor was a satirist, so that the lady-critic, whose opinion wehad the honour of noticing, would be warranted by appealing to itsorigin to determine the nature of the thing. A dramatic parody, whichproduced the greatest effect, was "the Gigantomachia, " as appears by theonly circumstance known of it. Never laughed the Athenians so heartilyas at its representation, for the fatal news of the deplorable state towhich the affairs of the republic were reduced in Sicily arrived at itsfirst representation--and the Athenians continued laughing to the end!as the modern Athenians, the volatile Parisians, might in their nationalconcern of an OPERA COMIQUE. It was the business of the dramatic parodyto turn the solemn tragedy, which the audience had just seen exhibited, into a farcical comedy; the same actors who had appeared in magnificentdresses, now returned on the stage in grotesque habiliments, with oddpostures and gestures, while the story, though the same, was incongruousand ludicrous. The Cyclops of Euripides is probably the only remainingspecimen; for this may be considered as a parody on the ninth book ofthe Odyssey--the adventures of Ulysses in the cave of Polyphemus, whereSilenus and a chorus of satyrs are farcically introduced, to contrastwith the grave narrative of Homer, of the shifts and escape of thecunning man "from the one-eyed ogre. " The jokes are too coarse for theFrench taste of Brumoy, who, in his translation, goes on with a criticalgrowl and foolish apology for Euripides having written a farce; Brumoy, like Pistol, is forced to eat his onion, but with a worse grace, swallowing and execrating to the end. 

In dramatic composition, Aristophanes is perpetually hooking in parodiesof Euripides, whom of all poets he hated, as well as of Æschylus, Sophocles, and other tragic bards. Since, at length, that Grecian withas found a translator saturated with his genius, and an interpreter asphilosophical, the subject of Grecian parody will probably be reflectedin a clearer light from his researches. 

Dramatic parodies in modern literature were introduced by our vivaciousneighbours, and may be said to constitute a class of literary satirespeculiar to the French nation. What had occurred in Greece a similargaiety of national genius unconsciously reproduced. The dramaticparodies in our own literature, as in _The Rehearsal_, _Tom Thumb_, [294]and _The Critic_, however exquisite, are confined to particularpassages, and are not grafted on a whole original; we have neithernaturalised the dramatic parody into a species, nor dedicated to it thehonours of a separate theatre. 

This peculiar dramatic satire, a burlesque of an entire tragedy, thevolatile genius of the Parisians accomplished. Whenever a new tragedy, which still continues the favourite species of drama with the French, attracted the notice of the town, shortly after uprose its parody at theItalian theatre, so that both pieces may have been performed inimmediate succession in the same evening. A French tragedy is mostsusceptible of this sort of ridicule, by applying its declamatory style, its exaggerated sentiments, and its romantic out-of-the-way nature tothe commonplace incidents and persons of domestic life; out of the stuffof which they made their emperors, their heroes, and their princesses, they cut out a pompous country justice, a hectoring tailor, or animpudent mantua-maker; but it was not merely this travesty of greatpersonages, nor the lofty effusions of one in a lowly station, whichterminated the object of parody. It was designed for a higher object, that of more obviously exposing the original for any absurdity in itsscenes, or in its catastrophe, and dissecting its faulty characters; ina word, weighing in the critical scales the nonsense of the poet. Parodysometimes became a refined instructor for the public, whose discernmentis often blinded by party or prejudice. But it was, too, a severetouchstone for genius: Racine, some say, smiled, others say he did not, when he witnessed Harlequin, in the language of Titus to Berenice, declaiming on some ludicrous affair to Columbine; La Motte was verysore, and Voltaire, and others, shrunk away with a cry--from a parody!Voltaire was angry when he witnessed his _Mariamne_ parodied by _Lemauvais Menage_; or "Bad Housekeeping. " The aged, jealous Herod wasturned into an old cross country justice; Varus, bewitched by Mariamne, strutted a dragoon; and the whole establishment showed it was under verybad management. Fuzelier collected some of these parodies, [295] and notunskilfully defends their nature and their object against the protest ofLa Motte, whose tragedies had severely suffered from these burlesques. His celebrated domestic tragedy of _Inez de Castro_, the fable of whichturns on a concealed and clandestine marriage, produced one of thehappiest parodies in _Agnes de Chaillot_. In the parody, the cause ofthe mysterious obstinacy of Pierrot the son, in persisting to refuse thehand of the daughter of his mother-in-law, Madame _la Baillive_, is thusdiscovered by her to Monsieur _le Baillif_:--

 Mon mari, pour le coup j'ai découvert l'affaire, Ne vous étonnez plus qu'à nos désirs contraire, Pour ma fille Pierrot ne montre que mépris: Voilà l'unique objet dont son coeur est épris. [_Pointing to Agnes de Chaillot_. 

The Baillif exclaims, Ma servante!

This single word was the most lively and fatal criticism of the tragicaction of Inez de Castro, which, according to the conventional decorumand fastidious code of French criticism, grossly violated the majesty ofMelpomene, by giving a motive and an object so totally undignified tothe tragic tale. In the parody there was something ludicrous when thesecret came out which explained poor Pierrot's long-concealedperplexities, in the maid-servant bringing forward a whole legitimatefamily of her own! La Motte was also galled by a projected parody of his"Machabees"--where the hasty marriage of the young Machabeus, and thesudden conversion of the amorous Antigone, who, for her firstpenitential act, persuades a youth to marry her, without first deigningto consult her respectable mother, would have produced an excellentscene for the parody. But La Motte prefixed an angry preface to his_Inez de Castro_; he inveighs against all parodies, which he asserts tobe merely a French fashion (we have seen, however, that it was onceGrecian), the offspring of a dangerous spirit of ridicule, and themalicious amusement of superficial minds. --"Were this true, " retortsFuzelier, "we ought to detest parodies; but we maintain, that far fromconverting virtue into a paradox, and degrading truth by ridicule, PARODY will only strike at what is chimerical and false; it is not apiece of buffoonery so much as a critical exposition. What do we parodybut the absurdities of dramatic writers, who frequently make theirheroes act against nature, common sense, and truth? After all, " heingeniously adds, "it is the public, not we, who are the authors ofthese? PARODIES; for they are usually but the echoes of the pit, and weparodists have only to give a dramatic form to the opinions andobservations we hear. Many tragedies, " Fuzelier, with admirable truth, observes, "disguise vices into virtues, and PARODIES unmask them. " Wehave had tragedies recently which very much required parodies to exposethem, and to shame our inconsiderate audiences, who patronised thesemonsters of false passions. The rants and bombast of some of these mighthave produced, with little or no alteration of the inflated originals, _A Modern Rehearsal_, or a new _Tragedy for Warm Weather_. [296]

Of PARODIES, we may safely approve the legitimate use, and even indulgetheir agreeable maliciousness; while we must still dread thatextraordinary facility to which the public, or rather human nature, isso prone, as sometimes to laugh at what at another time they would shedtears. 

Tragedy is rendered comic or burlesque by altering the _station_ and_manners_ of the _persons_; and the reverse may occur, of raising whatis comic or burlesque into tragedy. On so little depends the sublime orthe ridiculous! Beattie says, "In most human characters there areblemishes, moral, intellectual, or corporeal; by exaggerating which, toa certain degree, you may form a comic character; as by raising thevirtues, abilities, or external advantages of individuals, you formepic or tragic characters;[297] a subject humorously touched on byLloyd, in the prologue to _The Jealous Wife_. 

 Quarrels, upbraidings, jealousies, and spleen, Grow too familiar in the comic scene; Tinge but the language with heroic chime, 'Tis passion, pathos, character sublime. What big round words had swell'd the pompous scene, A king the husband, and the wife a queen. 

ANECDOTES OF THE FAIRFAX FAMILY. 

Will a mind of great capacity be reduced to mediocrity by the ill choiceof a profession?

Parents are interested in the metaphysical discussion, whether therereally exists an inherent quality in the human intellect which impartsto the individual an aptitude for one pursuit more than for another. What Lord Shaftesbury calls not innate, but connatural qualities of thehuman character, were, during the latter part of the last century, entirely rejected; but of late there appears a tendency to return to thenotion which is consecrated by antiquity. Experience will often correctmodern hypothesis. The term "predisposition" may be objectionable, asare all terms which pretend to describe the occult operations ofNature--and at present we have no other. 

Our children pass through the same public education, while they arereceiving little or none for their individual dispositions, should theyhave sufficient strength of character to indicate any. The great secretof education is to develope the faculties of the individual; for it mayhappen that his real talent may lie hidden and buried under hiseducation. A profession is usually adventitious, made by chance views, or by family arrangements. Should a choice be submitted to the youthhimself, he will often mistake slight and transient tastes for permanentdispositions. A decided character, however, we may often observe, isrepugnant to a particular pursuit, delighting in another; talents, languid and vacillating in one profession, we might find vigorous andsettled in another; an indifferent lawyer might become an admirablearchitect! At present all our human bullion is sent to be melted downin an university, to come out, as if thrown into a burning mould, abright physician, a bright lawyer, a bright divine--in other words, toadapt themselves for a profession preconcerted by their parents. By thismeans we may secure a titular profession for our son, but the truegenius of the avocation in the _bent of the mind_, as a man of greatoriginal powers called it, is too often absent! Instead of finding fitoffices for fit men, we are perpetually discovering, on the stage ofsociety, actors out of character! Our most popular writer has happilydescribed this error. 

"A laughing philosopher, the Democritus of our day, once compared humanlife to a table pierced with a number of holes, each of which has a pinmade exactly to fit it, but which pins being stuck in hastily, andwithout selection, chance leads inevitably to the most awkward mistakes. For how often do we see, " the orator pathetically concluded, --"howoften, I say, do we see the round man stuck into the three-corneredhole!"

In looking over a manuscript life of Tobie Matthews, Archbishop of Yorkin James the First's reign, I found a curious anecdote of his grace'sdisappointment in the dispositions of his sons. The cause, indeed, isnot uncommon, as was confirmed by another great man, to whom thearchbishop confessed it. The old Lord Thomas Fairfax one day finding thearchbishop very melancholy, inquired the reason of his grace'spensiveness: "My lord, " said the archbishop, "I have great reason ofsorrow with respect of my sons; one of whom has wit and no grace, another grace but no wit, and the third neither grace nor wit. " "Yourcase, " replied Lord Fairfax, "is not singular. I am also sadlydisappointed in my sons: one I sent into the Netherlands to train him upa soldier, and he makes a tolerable country justice, but a mere cowardat fighting; my next I sent to Cambridge, and he proves a good lawyer, but a mere dunce at divinity; and my youngest I sent to the inns ofcourt, and he is good at divinity, but nobody at the law. " The relaterof this anecdote adds, "This I have often heard from the descendant ofthat honourable family, who yet seems to mince the matter, because soimmediately related. " The eldest son was the Lord FerdinandoFairfax--and the gunsmith to Thomas Lord Fairfax, the son of this LordFerdinando, heard the old Lord Thomas call aloud to his grandson, "Tom!Tom! mind thou the battle! Thy father's a good man, but a mere coward!All the good I expect is from thee!" It is evident that the old LordThomas Fairfax was a military character, and in his earnest desire ofcontinuing a line of heroes, had preconcerted to make his eldest son amilitary man, who we discover turned out to be admirably fitted for aworshipful justice of the quorum. This is a lesson for the parent whoconsults his own inclinations and not those of natural disposition. Inthe present case the same lord, though disappointed, appears still tohave persisted in the same wish of having a great military character inhis family: having missed one in his elder son, and settled his othersons in different avocations, the grandfather persevered, and fixed hishopes, and bestowed his encouragements, on his grandson, Sir ThomasFairfax, who makes so distinguished a figure in the civil wars. 

The difficulty of discerning the aptitude of a youth for any particulardestination in life will, perhaps, even for the most skilful parent, bealways hazardous. Many will be inclined, in despair of anything better, to throw dice with fortune; or adopt the determination of the father whosettled his sons by a whimsical analogy which he appears to have formedof their dispositions or aptness for different pursuits. The boys werestanding under a hedge in the rain, and a neighbour reported to thefather the conversation he had overheard. John wished it would rainbooks, for he wished to be a preacher; Bezaleel, wool, to be a clothierlike his father; Samuel, money, to be a merchant; and Edmund plums, tobe a grocer. The father took these wishes as a hint, and we are told inthe life of John Angier, the elder son, a puritan minister, that hechose for them these different callings, in which it appears that theysettled successfully. "Whatever a young man at first applies himself tois commonly his delight afterwards. " This is an important principlediscovered by Hartley, but it will not supply the parent with anydeterminate regulation how to distinguish a transient from a permanentdisposition; or how to get at what we may call the connatural qualitiesof the mind. A particular opportunity afforded me some close observationon the characters and habits of two youths, brothers in blood andaffection, and partners in all things, who even to their very dressshared alike; who were never separated from each other; who were taughtby the same masters, lived under the same roof, and were accustomed tothe same uninterrupted habits; yet had nature created them totallydistinct in the qualities of their minds; and similar as their liveshad been, their abilities were adapted for very opposite pursuits;either of them could not have been the other. And I observed how the"predisposition" of the parties was distinctly marked from childhood:the one slow, penetrating, and correct; the other quick, irritable, andfanciful: the one persevering in examination; the other rapid inresults: the one exhausted by labour; the other impatient of whateverdid not relate to his own pursuit: the one logical, historical, andcritical; the other, having acquired nothing, decided on all things byhis own sensations. We would confidently consult in the one a greatlegal character, and in the other an artist of genius. If nature had notsecretly placed a bias in their distinct minds, how could two similarbeings have been so dissimilar?

A story recorded of Cecco d'Ascoli and of Dante, on the subject ofnatural and acquired genius, may illustrate the present topic. Ceccomaintained that nature was more potent than art, while Dante assertedthe contrary. To prove his principle, the great Italian bard referred tohis cat, which, by repeated practice, he had taught to hold a candle inits paw while he supped or read. Cecco desired to witness theexperiment, and came not unprepared for his purpose; when Dante's catwas performing its part, Cecco, lifting up the lid of a pot which he hadfilled with mice, the creature of art instantly showed the weakness of atalent merely acquired, and dropping the candle, flew on the mice withall its instinctive propensity. Dante was himself disconcerted; and itwas adjudged that the advocate for the occult principle of nativefaculties had gained his cause. 

To tell stories, however, is not to lay down principles, yet principlesmay sometimes be concealed in stories. [298]

MEDICINE AND MORALS. 

A stroke of personal ridicule is levelled at Dryden, when Bayes informsus of his preparations for a course of study by a course of medicine!"When I have a grand design, " says he, "I ever take physic and letblood; for when you would have pure swiftness of thought, and fieryflights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive part; in fine, you must purge the belly!" Such was really the practice of the poet, asLe Motte, who was a physician, informs us, and in his medical characterdid not perceive that ridicule in the subject which the wits and mostreaders unquestionably have enjoyed. The wits here were as cruel againsttruth as against Dryden; for we must still consider this practice, touse their own words, as "an excellent recipe for writing. " Among otherphilosophers, one of the most famous disputants of antiquity, Carneades, was accustomed to take copious doses of white hellebore, a greataperient, as a preparation to refute the dogmas of the stoics. "Thething that gives me the highest spirits (it seems absurd, but true) is adose of salts; but one can't take them like champagne, " said Lord Byron. Dryden's practice was neither whimsical nor peculiar to the poet; he wasof a full habit, and, no doubt, had often found by experience thebeneficial effects without being aware of the cause, which is nothingless than the reciprocal influence of mind and body. 

This simple fact is, indeed, connected with one of the most importantinquiries in the history of man--the laws which regulate the invisibleunion of the soul with the body: in a word, the inscrutable mystery ofour being!--a secret, but an undoubted intercourse, which probably mustever elude our perceptions. The combination of metaphysics with physicshas only been productive of the wildest fairy tales among philosophers:with one party the soul seems to pass away in its last puff of air, while man seems to perish in "dust to dust;" the other as successfullygets rid of our bodies altogether, by denying the existence of matter. We are not certain that mind and matter are distinct existences, sincethe one may be only a modification of the other; however this greatmystery be imagined, we shall find with Dr. Gregory, in his lectures "onthe duties and qualifications of a physician, " that it forms an equallynecessary inquiry in the sciences of _morals_ and of _medicine_. 

Whether we consider the vulgar distinction of mind and body as an union, or as a modified existence, no philosopher denies that a reciprocalaction takes place between our moral and physical condition. Of thesesympathies, like many other mysteries of nature, the cause remainsoccult, while the effects are obvious. This close, yet inscrutableassociation, this concealed correspondence of parts seeminglyunconnected, in a word, this reciprocal influence of the mind and thebody, has long fixed the attention of medical and metaphysicalinquirers; the one having the care of our exterior organization, theother that of the interior. Can we conceive the mysterious inhabitant asforming a part of its own habitation? The tenant and the house are soinseparable, that in striking at any part of the dwelling, youinevitably reach the dweller. If the mind be disordered, we may oftenlook for its seat in some corporeal derangement. Often are our thoughtsdisturbed by a strange irritability, which we do not even pretend toaccount for. This state of the body, called the _fidgets_, is a disorderto which the ladies are particularly liable. A physician of myacquaintance was earnestly entreated by a female patient to give a nameto her unknown complaints; this he found no difficulty to do, as he is asturdy asserter of the materiality of our nature; he declared that herdisorder was atmospherical. It was the disorder of her frame under dampweather, which was reacting on her mind; and physical means, byoperating on her body, might be applied to restore her to her half-lostsenses. Our imagination is higher when our stomach is not overloaded; inspring than in winter; in solitude than amidst company; and in anobscured light than in the blaze and heat of the noon. In all thesecases the body is evidently acted on, and re-acts on the mind. Sometimesour dreams present us with images of our restlessness, till we recollectthat the seat of our brain may perhaps lie in our stomach, rather thanon the pineal gland of Descartes; and that the most artificial logic tomake us somewhat reasonable, may be swallowed with "the blue pill. " Ourdomestic happiness often depends on the state of our biliary anddigestive organs, and the little disturbances of conjugal life may bemore efficaciously cured by the physician than by the moralist; for asermon misapplied will never act so directly as a sharp medicine. Thelearned Gaubius, an eminent professor of medicine at Leyden, who calledhimself "professor of the passions, " gives the case of a lady of tooinflammable a constitution, whom her husband, unknown to herself, hadgradually reduced to a model of decorum, by phlebotomy. Her complexion, indeed, lost the roses, which some, perhaps, had too wantonly admiredfor the repose of her conjugal physician. 

The art of curing moral disorders by corporeal means has not yet beenbrought into general practice, although it is probable that some quietsages of medicine have made use of it on some occasions. The Leydenprofessor we have just alluded to, delivered at the university adiscourse "on the management and cure of the disorders of the mind byapplication to the body. " Descartes conjectured, that as the mind seemsso dependent on the disposition of the bodily organs, if any means canbe found to render men wiser and more ingenious than they have beenhitherto, such a method might be sought from the assistance of_medicine_. The sciences of Morals and of Medicine will therefore befound to have a more intimate connexion than has been suspected. Platothought that a man must have natural dispositions towards virtue tobecome virtuous; that it cannot be educated--you cannot make a bad man agood man; which he ascribes to the evil dispositions of the _body_, aswell as to a bad education. 

There are, unquestionably, constitutional moral disorders; somegood-tempered but passionate persons have acknowledged, that they cannotavoid those temporary fits to which they are liable, and which, theysay, they always suffered "from a child. " If they arise from too great afulness of blood, is it not cruel to upbraid rather than to cure them, which might easily be done by taking away their redundant humours, andthus quieting the most passionate man alive? A moral patient, who allowshis brain to be disordered by the fumes of liquor, instead of beingsuffered to be a ridiculous being, might have opiates prescribed; for inlaying him asleep as soon as possible, you remove the cause of hissudden madness. There are crimes for which men are hanged, but of whichthey might easily have been cured by physical means. Persons out oftheir senses with love, by throwing themselves into a river, and beingdragged out nearly lifeless, have recovered their senses, and lost theirbewildering passion. Submersion is discovered to be a cure for somemental disorders, by altering the state of the body, as Van Helmontnotices, "was happily practised in England. " With the circumstance towhich this sage of chemistry alludes, I am unacquainted; but thisextraordinary practice was certainly known to the Italians; for in oneof the tales of the Poggio we find a mad doctor of Milan, who wascelebrated for curing lunatics and demoniacs in a certain time. Hispractice consisted in placing them in a great high-walled court-yard, inthe midst of which there was a deep well full of water, cold as ice. When a demoniac was brought to this physician, he had the patient boundto a pillar in the well, till the water ascended to the knees, orhigher, and even to the neck, as he deemed their malady required. Intheir bodily pain they appear to have forgot their melancholy; thus bythe terrors of the repetition of cold water, a man appears to have beenfrightened into his senses! A physician has informed me of a remarkablecase; a lady with a disordered mind, resolved on death, and swallowedmuch more than half a pint of laudanum; she closed her curtains in theevening, took a farewell of her attendants, and flattered herself sheshould never awaken from her sleep. In the morning, however, notwithstanding this incredible dose, she awoke in the agonies of death. By the usual means she was enabled to get rid of the poison she had solargely taken, and not only recovered her life, but, what is moreextraordinary, her perfect senses! The physician conjectures that it wasthe influence of her disordered mind over her body which prevented thisvast quantity of laudanum from its usual action by terminating indeath. [299]

Moral vices or infirmities, which originate in the state of the body, may be cured by topical applications. Precepts and ethics in such cases, if they seem to produce a momentary cure, have only moved the weeds, whose roots lie in the soil. It is only by changing the soil itself thatwe can eradicate these evils. The senses are five porches for thephysician to enter into the mind, to keep it in repair. By altering thestate of the body, we are changing that of the mind, whenever thedefects of the mind depend on those of the organization. The mind, orsoul, however distinct its being from the body, is disturbed or excited, independent of its volition, by the mechanical impulses of the body. Aman becomes stupified when the circulation of the blood is impeded inthe _viscera_; he acts more from instinct than reflection; the nervousfibres are too relaxed or too tense, and he finds a difficulty in movingthem; if you heighten his sensations, you awaken new ideas in thisstupid being; and as we cure the stupid by increasing his sensibility, we may believe that a more vivacious fancy may be promised to those whopossess one, when the mind and the body play together in one harmoniousaccord. Prescribe the bath, frictions, and fomentations, and though itseems a round-about way, you get at the brains by his feet. A literaryman, from long sedentary habits, could not overcome his fits ofmelancholy, till his physician doubled his daily quantity of wine; andthe learned Henry Stephens, after a severe ague, had such a disgust ofbooks, the most beloved objects of his whole life, that the very thoughtof them excited terror for a considerable time. It is evident that thestate of the body often indicates that of the mind. Insanity itselfoften results from some disorder in the human machine. "What is thisMIND, of which men appear so vain?" exclaims Flechier. "If consideredaccording to its nature it is a fire which sickness and an accident mostsensibly puts out; it is a delicate temperament, which soon growsdisordered; a happy conformation of organs, which wear out; acombination and a certain motion of the spirits, which exhaustthemselves; it is the most lively and the most subtile part of the soul, which seems to grow old with the BODY. "

It is not wonderful that some have attributed such virtues to theirsystem of _diet_, if it has been found productive of certain effects onthe human body. Cornaro perhaps imagined more than he experienced; butApollonius Tyaneus, when he had the credit of holding an intercoursewith the devil, by his presumed gift of prophecy, defended himself fromthe accusation by attributing his clear and prescient views of things tothe light aliments he lived on, never indulging in a variety of food. "This mode of life has produced such a perspicuity in my ideas, that Isee as in a glass things past and future. " We may, therefore, agree withBayes, that "for a sonnet to Amanda, and the like, stewed prunes only"might be sufficient; but for "a grand design, " nothing less than a moreformal and formidable dose. 

Camus, a French physician, who combined literature with science, theauthor of "Abdeker, or the Art of Cosmetics, " which he discovered inexercise and temperance, produced another fanciful work, written in1753, "La Médecine de l'Esprit. " His conjectural cases are at least asnumerous as his more positive facts; for he is not wanting inimagination. He assures us, that having reflected on the physicalcauses, which, by differently modifying the body, varied also thedispositions of the mind, he was convinced that by employing thesedifferent causes, or by imitating their powers by art, we might, bymeans purely mechanical, affect the human mind, and correct theinfirmities of the understanding and the will. He considered thisprinciple only as the aurora of a brighter day. The great difficulty toovercome was to find out a method to root out the defects, or thediseases of the soul, in the same manner as physicians cure a fluxionfrom the lungs, a dysentery, a dropsy, and all other infirmities, whichseem only to attack the body. This indeed, he says, is enlarging thedomain of medicine, by showing how the functions of intellect and thesprings of volition are mechanical. The movements and passions of thesoul, formerly restricted to abstract reasonings, are by this systemreduced to simple ideas. Insisting that material causes force the souland body to act together, the defects of the intellectual operationsdepend on those of the organisation, which may be altered or destroyedby physical causes; and he properly adds, that we are to consider thatthe soul is material, while existing in matter, because it is operatedon by matter. Such is the theory of "La Médecine de l'Esprit, " which, though physicians will never quote, may perhaps contain some facts worththeir attention. 

Camus's two little volumes seem to have been preceded by a medicaldiscourse delivered in the academy of Dijon in 1748, where the moralistcompares the infirmities and vices of the mind to parallel diseases ofthe body. We may safely consider some infirmities and passions of themind as diseases, and could they be treated as we do the bodily ones, towhich they bear an affinity, this would be the great triumph of "moralsand medicine. " The passion of avarice resembles the thirst of dropsicalpatients; that of envy is a slow wasting fever; love is often frenzy, and capricious and sudden restlessness, epileptic fits. There are moraldisorders which at times spread like epidemical maladies through towns, and countries, and even nations. There are hereditary vices andinfirmities transmitted from the parent's mind, as there areunquestionably such diseases of the body: the son of a father of a hotand irritable temperament inherits the same quickness and warmth; adaughter is often the counterpart of her mother. Morality, could it betreated medicinally, would require its prescriptions, as all diseaseshave their specific remedies; the great secret is perhaps discovered byCamus--that of _operating on the mind by means of the body_. 

A recent writer seems to have been struck by these curious analogies. Mr. Haslam, in his work on "Sound Mind, " says p. 90, "There seems to bea considerable similarity between the morbid state of the instruments ofvoluntary motion (that is, the _body_), and certain affections of themental powers (that is, the _mind_). Thus, _paralysis_ has itscounterpart in _the defects of recollection_, where the utmost endeavourto remember is ineffectually exerted. _Tremor_ may be compared with_incapability of fixing the attention_, and this _involuntary state ofmuscles_ ordinarily subjected to the will, also finds a parallel wherethe mind loses its influence in the train of thought, and becomessubject to spontaneous intrusions; as may be exemplified in _reveries_, _dreaming_, and some species of _madness_. "

Thus one philosopher discovers the analogies of the mind with the body, and another of the body with the mind. Can we now hesitate to believethat such analogies exist--and, advancing one step farther, trace inthis reciprocal influence that a part of the soul is the body, as thebody becomes a part of the soul? The most important truth remainsundivulged, and ever will in this mental pharmacy; but none is moreclear than that which led to the view of this subject, that in thismutual intercourse of body and mind the superior is often governed bythe inferior; others think the mind is more wilfully outrageous than thebody. Plutarch, in his essays, has a familiar illustration, which heborrows from some philosopher more ancient than himself:--"Should thebody sue the mind before a court of judicature for damages, it would befound that the mind would prove to have been a ruinous tenant to itslandlord. " The sage of Cheronæa did not foresee the hint of Descartesand the discovery of Camus, that by medicine we may alleviate or removethe diseases of the mind; a practice which indeed has not yet beenpursued by physicians, though the moralists have been often struck bythe close analogies of the MIND with the BODY! A work by the learned DomPernetty, _La connoissance de l'homme moral par celle de l'hommephysique_, we are told is more fortunate in its title than itsexecution; probably it is one of the many attempts to develope thisimperfect and obscured truth, which hereafter may become more obvious, and be universally comprehended. 

PSALM-SINGING. 

The history of Psalm-singing is a portion of the history of theReformation, --of that great religious revolution which separated forever, into two unequal divisions, the establishment of Christianity. Ithas not, perhaps, been remarked that psalm-singing, or metrical psalms, degenerated into those scandalous compositions which, under the abusedtitle of _hymns_, are now used by some sects. [300] These are evidentlythe last disorders of that system of psalm-singing which made somereligious persons early oppose its practice. Even Sternhold and Hopkins, our first psalm-inditers, says honest Fuller, "found their workafterwards met with some frowns in the faces of great clergymen. " Tothis day these opinions are not adjusted. Archbishop Secker observes, that though the first Christians (from this passage in James v. 13, "Isany merry? let him sing psalms!") made singing a constant part of theirworship, and the whole congregation joined in it; yet afterwards thesingers by profession, who had been _prudently appointed to lead anddirect them_, by degrees USURPED the whole performance. But at theReformation _the people were restored to their_ RIGHTS! Thisrevolutionary style is singular: one might infer by the expression of_the people being restored to their rights_, that a mixed assemblyroaring out confused tunes, nasal, guttural, and sibilant, was a moreorderly government of psalmody than when the executive power wasconsigned to the voices of those whom the archbishop had justlydescribed as having been first _prudently appointed to lead and directthem_; and who, by their subsequent proceedings, evidently discovered, what they might have safely conjectured, that such an universalsuffrage, where every man was to have a voice, must necessarily end inclatter and chaos. [301]

Thomas Warton, however, regards the metrical psalms of Sternhold as apuritanic invention, and asserts, that notwithstanding it is said intheir title-page that they are "set forth and _allowed_ to be sung inall churches, " they were never admitted by lawful authority. They werefirst introduced by the Puritans, from the Calvinists of Geneva, andafterwards continued by connivance. As a true poetical antiquary, ThomasWarton condemns any _modernisation_ of the venerable text of the oldSternhold and Hopkins, which, by changing obsolete for familiar words, destroys the texture of the original style; and many stanzas, alreadytoo naked and weak, like a plain old Gothic edifice stripped of its fewsignatures of antiquity, have lost that little and almost only strengthand support which they derived from ancient phrases. "Such alterations, even if executed with prudence and judgment, only corrupt what theyendeavour to explain; and exhibit a motley performance, belonging to nocharacter of writing, and which contains more improprieties than thosewhich it professes to remove. " This forcible criticism is worthy of ourpoetical antiquary; the same feeling was experienced by Pasquier, whenMarot, in his _Rifacciamento_ of the Roman de la Rose, left some of theobsolete phrases, while he got rid of others; _cette bigarrure delangage vieux et moderne_, was with him writing no language at all. Thesame circumstance occurred abroad, when they resolved to retouch andmodernise the old French metrical version of the Psalms, which we areabout to notice. It produced the same controversy and the samedissatisfaction. The church of Geneva adopted an _improved_ version, butthe charm of the old one was wanting. 

To trace the history of modern metrical psalmody, we must have recourseto Bayle, who, as a mere literary historian, has accidentally preservedit. The inventor was a celebrated French poet; and the invention, thoughperhaps in its very origin inclining towards the abuse to which it wasafterwards carried, was unexpectedly adopted by the austere Calvin, andintroduced into the Geneva discipline. It is indeed strange, that whilehe was stripping religion not merely of its pageantry, but even of itsdecent ceremonies, this levelling reformer should have introduced thistaste for _singing_ psalms in opposition to _reading_ psalms. "On aparallel principle, " says Thomas Warton, "and if any artificial aids todevotion were to be allowed, he might at least have retained the use ofpictures in the church. " But it was decreed that statues should bemutilated of "their fair proportions, " and painted glass be dashed intopieces, while the congregation were to sing! Calvin sought forproselytes among "the rabble of a republic, who can have no relish forthe more elegant externals. " But to have made men sing in concert, inthe streets, or at their work, and, merry or sad, on all occasions totickle the ear with rhymes and touch the heart with emotion, wasbetraying no deficient knowledge of human nature. 

It seems, however, that this project was adopted accidentally, and wascertainly promoted by the fine natural genius of Clement Marot, thefavoured bard of Francis the First, that "prince of poets and that poetof princes, " as he was quaintly but expressively dignified by hiscontemporaries. Marot is still an inimitable and true poet, for he haswritten in a manner of his own with such marked felicity, that he hasleft his name to a style of poetry called _Marotique_. The original LaFontaine is his imitator. Marot delighted in the very forms of poetry, as well as its subjects and its manner. His life, indeed, took moreshapes, and indulged in more poetical licences, than even his poetry. Licentious in morals, --often in prison, or at court, or in the army, ora fugitive, he has left in his numerous little poems many a curiousrecord of his variegated existence. He was indeed very far from beingdevout, when his friend, the learned Vatable, the Hebrew professor, probably to reclaim a perpetual sinner from profane rhymes, as Marot wassuspected of heresy (confession and meagre days being his abhorrence), suggested the new project of translating the Psalms into _French verse_, and no doubt assisted the bard; for they are said to be "traduitz enrithme Français selon la verité Hébraique. " The famous Theodore Beza wasalso his friend and prompter, and afterwards his continuator. Marotpublished fifty-two Psalms, written in a variety of measures, with thesame style he had done his ballads and rondeaux. He dedicated his workto the King of France, comparing him with the royal Hebrew, and with aFrench compliment!

 Dieu le _donna_ aux peuples Hébraïques; Dieu te _devoit_, ce pensé-je, aux Galliques. 

He insinuates that in his version he had received assistance

 ---- par les divins esprits Qui ont sous toy Hebrieu langage apris, Nous sont jettés les Pseaumes en lumière Clairs, et au sens de la forme première. 

This royal dedication is more solemn than usual; yet Marot, who wasnever grave but in prison, soon recovered from this dedication to theking, for on turning the leaf we find another, "Aux Dames de France!"Warton says of Marot, that "He seems anxious to deprecate the raillerywhich the new tone of his versification was likely to incur, and isembarrassed to find an apology for turning saint. " His embarrassments, however, terminate in a highly poetical fancy. When will the golden agebe restored? exclaims this lady's psalmist, Quand n'aurons plus de cours ni lieu Les chansons de ce petit Dieu A qui les peintres font des aisles? O vous dames et demoiselles Que Dieu fait pour estre son temple Et faites, sous mauvais exemple Retentir et chambres et sales, De chansons mondaines ou salles, &c. 

Knowing, continues the poet, that songs that are silent about love cannever please you, here are some composed by love itself; all here islove, but more than mortal! Sing these at all times. 

 Et les convertir et muer Faisant vos lèvres rémuer, Et vos doigts sur les espinettes Pour dire saintes chansonettes. 

Marot then breaks forth with that enthusiasm, which perhaps at firstconveyed to the sullen fancy of the austere Calvin the project he sosuccessfully adopted, and whose influence we are still witnessing. 

 O bien heureux qui voir pourra Fleurir le temps, que l'on orra Le laboureur à sa charrue Le charretier parmy la rue, Et l'artisan en sa boutique Avecques un PSEAUME ou cantique, En son labeur se soulager; Heureux qui orra le berger Et la bergère en bois estans Faire que rochers et estangs Après eux chantent la hauteur Du saint nom de leurs Createur. Commencez, dames, commencez Le siecle doré! avancez! En chantant d'un cueur debonnaire, Dedans ce saint cancionnaire. 

 Thrice happy they, who shall behold, And listen in that age of gold! As by the plough the labourer strays, And carman mid the public ways, And tradesman in his shop shall swell Their voice in Psalm or Canticle, Sing to solace toil; again, From woods shall come a sweeter strain Shepherd and shepherdess shall vie In many a tender Psalmody; And the Creator's name prolong As rock and stream return their song! Begin then, ladies fair! begin The age renew'd that knows no sin! And with light heart, that wants no wing, Sing! from this holy song-book, sing![302]

This "holy song-book" for the harpsichord or the voice, was a gaynovelty, and no book was ever more eagerly received by all classes thanMarot's "Psalms. " In the fervour of that day, they sold faster than theprinters could take them off their presses; but as they were understoodto be _songs_, and yet were not accompanied by music, every one set themto favourite tunes, commonly those of popular ballads. Each of the royalfamily, and every nobleman, chose a psalm or a song which expressed hisown personal feelings, adapted to his own tune. The Dauphin, afterwardsHenry the Second, a great hunter, when he went to the chase, was singing_Ainsi qu'on vit le cerf bruyre_. "Like as the hart desireth thewater-brooks. " There is a curious portrait of the mistress of Henry, thefamous Diane de Poictiers, recently published, on which is inscribedthis _verse of the Psalm_. On a portrait which exhibits Diane in anattitude rather unsuitable to so solemn an application, no reason couldbe found to account for this discordance; perhaps the painter, or thelady herself, chose to adopt the favourite psalm of her royal lover, proudly to designate the object of her love, besides its double allusionto her name. Diane, however, in the first stage of their mutualattachment, took _Du fond de ma pensée_, or, "From the depth of myheart. " The queen's favourite was

 _Ne veuilles pas, o sire, Me reprendre en ton ire;_

that is, "Rebuke me not in thy indignation, " which she sung to afashionable jig. Antony, king of Navarre, sung _Revenge moy prens laquerelle_, or "Stand up, O Lord, to revenge my quarrel, " to the air of adance of Poitou. We may conceive the ardour with which this novelty wasreceived, for Francis sent to Charles the Fifth Marot's collection, whoboth by promises and presents encouraged the French bard to proceed withhis version, and entreating Marot to send him as soon as possible_Confitemini Domino quoniam bonus_, because it was his favourite psalm. And the Spanish as well as French composers hastened to set the Psalmsof Marot to music. The fashion lasted, for Henry the Second set one toan air of his own composing. Catharine de' Medici had her psalm, and itseems that every one at court adopted some particular psalm forthemselves, which they often played on lutes and guitars, &c. Singingpsalms in verse was then one of the chief ingredients in the happinessof social life. 

The universal reception of Marot's Psalms induced Theodore Beza toconclude the collection, and ten thousand copies were immediatelydispersed. But these had the advantage of being set to music, for we aretold they were "admirably fitted to the violin and other musicalinstruments. " And who was the man who had thus adroitly taken hold ofthe public feeling to give it this strong direction? It was the solitaryThaumaturgus, the ascetic Calvin, who from the depths of his closet atGeneva had engaged the finest musical composers, who were, no doubt, warmed by the zeal of propagating his faith to form these simple andbeautiful airs to assist the psalm-singers. At first this was notdiscovered, and Catholics as well as Huguenots were solacing themselveson all occasions with this new music. But when Calvin appointed thesepsalms, as set to music, to be sung at his meetings, and Marot's formedan appendix to the Catechism of Geneva, this put an end to allpsalm-singing for the poor Catholics! Marot himself was forced to fly toGeneva from the fulminations of the Sorbonne, and psalm-singing becamean open declaration of what the French called "Lutheranisme, " when itbecame with the reformed a regular part of their religious discipline. The Cardinal of Lorraine succeeded in persuading the lovely patroness ofthe "holy song-book, " Diane de Poictiers, who at first was apsalm-singer and an heretical reader of the Bible, to discountenancethis new fashion. He began by finding fault with the Psalms of David, and revived the amatory elegances of Horace: at that moment even thereading of the Bible was symptomatic of Lutheranism; Diane, who hadgiven way to these novelties, would have a French Bible, because thequeen, Catharine de' Medici, had one, and the Cardinal finding a Bibleon her table, immediately crossed himself, beat his breast, andotherwise so well acted his part, that "having thrown the Bible down andcondemned it, he remonstrated with the fair penitent, that it was a kindof reading not adapted for her sex, containing dangerous matters: if shewas uneasy in her mind she should hear two masses instead of one, andrest contented with her Paternosters and her Primer, which were not onlydevotional but ornamented with a variety of elegant forms, from the mostexquisite pencils of France. " Such is the story drawn from a curiousletter, written by a Huguenot, and a former friend of Catharine de'Medici, and by which we may infer that the reformed religion was makingconsiderable progress in the French Court, --had the Cardinal of Lorrainenot interfered by persuading the mistress, and she the king, and theking his queen, at once to give up psalm-singing and reading the Bible!

"This infectious frenzy of psalm-singing, " as Warton describes it, "under the Calvinistic preachers, had rapidly propagated itself throughGermany as well as France. It was admirably calculated to kindle theflame of fanaticism, and frequently served as the trumpet to rebellion. These energetic hymns of Geneva excited and supported a variety ofpopular insurrections in the most flourishing cities of the LowCountries, and what our poetical antiquary could never forgive, "fomented the fury which defaced many of the most beautiful andvenerable churches of Flanders. "

At length it reached our island at that critical moment when it hadfirst embraced the Reformation; and here its domestic history wasparallel with its foreign, except, perhaps, in the splendour of itssuccess. Sternhold, an enthusiast for the Reformation, was muchoffended, says Warton, at the lascivious ballads which prevailed amongthe courtiers, and, with a laudable design to check these indecencies, he undertook to be our Marot--without his genius: "thinking thereby, "says our cynical literary historian, Antony Wood, "that the courtierswould sing them instead of their sonnets, _but did not_, only some fewexcepted. " They were practised by the Puritans in the reign ofElizabeth; for Shakspeare notices the Puritan of his day "singing psalmsto hornpipes, "[303] and more particularly during the protectorate ofCromwell, on the same plan of accommodating them to popular tunes andjigs, which one of them said "were too good for the devil. " Psalms werenow sang at Lord Mayors' dinners and city feasts; soldiers sung them ontheir march and at parade; and few houses, which had windows frontingthe streets, but had their evening psalms; for a story has come down tous, to record that the hypocritical brotherhood did not always care tosing unless they were heard![304]

ON THE RIDICULOUS TITLES ASSUMED BY ITALIAN ACADEMIES. 

The Italians are a fanciful people, who have often mixed a grain or twoof pleasantry and even of folly with their wisdom. This fancifulcharacter betrays itself in their architecture, in their poetry, intheir extemporary comedy, and their _Improvisatori_; but an instancenot yet accounted for of this national levity, appears in thosedenominations of exquisite absurdity given by themselves to theirAcademies! I have in vain inquired for any assignable reason why themost ingenious men, and grave and illustrious personages, cardinals, andprinces, as well as poets, scholars, and artists, in every literarycity, should voluntarily choose to burlesque themselves and theirserious occupations, by affecting mysterious or ludicrous titles, as ifit were carnival-time, and they had to support masquerade characters, and accepting such titles as we find in the cant style of our own vulgarclubs, the Society of "Odd Fellows, " and of "Eccentrics!" A principle sowhimsical but systematic must surely have originated in somecircumstance not hitherto detected. 

A literary friend, recently in an Italian city exhausted by the_sirocco_, entered a house whose open door and circular seats appearedto offer to passengers a refreshing _sorbetto_; he discovered, however, that he had got into "the Academy of the Cameleons, " where they met todelight their brothers, and any "spirito gentil" they could nail to arecitation. An invitation to join the academicians alarmed him, for withsome impatient prejudice against these little creatures, vocal with_prose e rime_, and usually with odes and sonnets begged for, orpurloined for the occasion, he waived all further curiosity andcourtesy, and has returned home without any information how these"Cameleons" looked, when changing their colours in an "_accademia_. "

Such literary institutions, prevalent in Italy, are the spurious remainsof those numerous academies which simultaneously started up in thatcountry about the sixteenth century. They assumed the most ridiculousdenominations, and a great number is registered by Quadrio andTiraboschi. Whatever was their design, one cannot fairly reproach them, as Mencken, in his "Charlatanaria Eruditorum, " seems to have thought, for pompous quackery; neither can we attribute to their modesty theirchoice of senseless titles, for to have degraded their own exaltedpursuits was but folly! Literary history affords no parallel to thisnational absurdity of the refined Italians. Who could have suspectedthat the most eminent scholars, and men of genius, were associates ofthe _Oziosi_, the _Fantastici_, the _Insensati_? Why should Genoa boastof her "Sleepy, " Yiterbo of her "Obstinates, " Sienna of her "Insipids, "her "Blockheads, " and her "Thunderstruck;" and Naples of her "Furiosi:"while Macerata exults in her "Madmen chained?" Both Quadrio andTiraboschi cannot deny that these fantastical titles have occasionedthese Italian academies to appear very ridiculous to the _oltramontani_;but these valuable historians are no philosophical thinkers. Theyapologise for this bad taste, by describing the ardour which was kindledthroughout Italy at the restoration of letters and the fine arts, sothat every one, and even every man of genius, were eager to enrol theirnames in these academies, and prided themselves in bearing theiremblems, that is, the distinctive arms each academy had chosen. But whydid they mystify themselves?

Folly, once become national, is a vigorous plant, which sheds abundantseed. The consequence of having adopted ridiculous titles for theseacademies suggested to them many other characteristic fopperies. AtFlorence every brother of the "Umidi" assumed the name of somethingaquatic, or any quality pertaining to humidity. One was called "theFrozen, " another "the Damp;" one was "the Pike, " another "the Swan:" andGrazzini, the celebrated novelist, is known better by the cognomen of_La Lasca_, "the Roach, " by which he whimsically designates himselfamong the "Humids. " I find among the _Insensati_, one man of learningtaking the name of STORDIDO _Insensato_, another TENEBROSO _Insensato_. The famous Florentine academy of _La Crusca_, amidst their grave laboursto sift and purify their language, threw themselves headlong into thisvortex of folly. Their title, the academy of "Bran, " was a conceit toindicate their art of sifting; but it required an Italian prodigality ofconceit to have induced these grave scholars to exhibit themselves inthe burlesque scenery of a pantomimical academy, for their furnitureconsists of a mill and a bakehouse; a pulpit for the orator is a hopper, while the learned director sits on a mill-stone; the other seats havethe forms of a miller's dossers, or great panniers, and the backsconsist of the long shovels used in ovens. The table is a baker'skneading-trough, and the academician who reads has half his body thrustout of a great bolting sack, with I know not what else for theirinkstands and portfolios. But the most celebrated of these academies isthat "degli Arcadi, " at Rome, who are still carrying on theirpretensions much higher. Whoever aspires to be aggregated to theseArcadian shepherds receives a personal name and a title, but not thedeeds, of a farm, picked out of a map of the ancient Arcadia or itsenvirons; for Arcadia itself soon became too small a possession forthese partitioners of moon-shine. Their laws, modelled by the twelvetables of the ancient Romans; their language in the venerable majesty oftheir renowned ancestors; and this erudite democracy dating by theGrecian Olympiads, which Crescembini, their first _custode_, orguardian, most painfully adjusted to the vulgar era, were designed thatthe sacred erudition of antiquity might for ever be present among theseshepherds. [305] Goldoni, in his Memoirs, has given an amusing account ofthese honours. He says "He was presented with two diplomas; the one wasmy charter of aggregation to the _Arcadi_ of Rome, under the name of_Polisseno_, the other gave me the investiture of the _Phlegræan_fields. I was on this saluted by the whole assembly in chorus, under thename of _Polisseno Phlegræio, _ and embraced by them as a fellow-shepherdand brother. The _Arcadians_ are very rich, as you may perceive, my dearreader: we possess estates in Greece; we water them with our labours forthe sake of reaping laurels, and the Turks sow them with grain, andplant them with vines, and laugh at both our titles and our songs. " WhenFontenelle became an Arcadian, they baptized the new _Pastor_ by theirgraceful diminutive--_Fontanella_--allusive to the charm, of his style;and further they magnificently presented him with the entire Isle ofDelos! The late Joseph Walker, an enthusiast for Italian literature, dedicated his "Memoir on Italian Tragedy" to the Countess Spencer; notinscribing it with his Christian but his heathen name, and the title ofhis Arcadian estate, _Eubante Tirinzio_! Plain Joseph Walker, in hismasquerade dress, with his Arcadian signet of Pan's reeds dangling inhis title-page, was performing a character to which, however welladapted, not being understood, he got stared at for his affectation! Wehave lately heard of some licentious revellings of these Arcadians, inreceiving a man of genius from our own country, who, himself composingItalian _Rime_, had "conceit" enough to become a shepherd![306] Yet letus inquire before we criticise. 

Even this ridiculous society of the Arcadians became a memorableliterary institution; and Tiraboschi has shown how it successfullyarrested the bad taste which was then prevailing throughout Italy, recalling its muses to purer sources; while the lives of many of itsshepherds have furnished an interesting volume of literary history underthe title of "The illustrious Arcadians. " Crescembini, and its founders, had formed the most elevated conceptions of the society at its origin;but poetical vaticinators are prophets only while we read theirverses--we must not look for that dry matter of fact--the eventpredicted!

 Il vostro seme eterno Occuperà la terra, ed i confini D'Arcadia oltrapassando, Di non più visti gloriosi germi L'aureo feconderà lito del Gange E de' Cimmeri l'infeconde arene. 

Mr. Mathias has recently with warmth defended the original _Arcadia_;and the assumed character of its members, which has been condemned asbetraying their affectation, he attributes to their modesty. "Before thecritics of the Arcadia (the _pastori_, as they modestly styledthemselves) with Crescembini for their conductor, and with the _AdoratoAlbano_ for their patron (Clement XI. ), all that was depraved inlanguage and in sentiment fled and disappeared. "

The strange taste for giving fantastical denominations to literaryinstitutions grew into a custom, though, probably, no one knew how. Thefounders were always persons of rank or learning, yet still accident orcaprice created the mystifying title, and invented those appropriateemblems, which still added to the folly. The Arcadian society derivedits title from a spontaneous conceit. This assembly first held itsmeetings, on summer evenings, in a meadow on the banks of the Tiber; forthe fine climate of Italy promotes such assemblies in the open air. Inthe recital of an eclogue, an enthusiast, amidst all he was hearing andall he was seeing, exclaimed, "I seem at this moment to be in theArcadia of ancient Greece, listening to the pure and simple strains ofits shepherds. " Enthusiasm is contagious amidst susceptible Italians, and this name, by inspiration and by acclamation, was conferred on thesociety! Even more recently, at Florence, the _accademia_ called the_Colombaria_, or the "Pigeon-house, " proves with what levity theItalians name a literary society. The founder was the Cavallero Pazzi, a gentleman, who, like Morose, abhorring noise, chose for his study agarret in his palazzo; it was, indeed, one of the old turrets which hadnot yet fallen in: there he fixed his library, and there he assembledthe most ingenious Florentines to discuss obscure points, and to revealtheir own contributions in this secret retreat of silence andphilosophy. To get to this cabinet it was necessary to climb a verysteep and very narrow staircase, which occasioned some facetious wit toobserve, that these literati were so many pigeons who flew every eveningto their dovecot. The Cavallero Pazzi, to indulge this humour, invitedthem to a dinner entirely composed of their little brothers, in all thevarieties of cookery; the members, after a hearty laugh, assumed thetitle of the _Colombaria_, invented a device consisting of the top of aturret, with several pigeons flying about it, bearing an epigraph fromDante, _Quanto veder si può_, by which they expressed their design notto apply themselves to any single object. Such facts sufficiently provethat some of the absurd or facetious denominations of these literarysocieties originated in accidental circumstances or in mere pleasantry;but this will not account for the origin of those mystifying titles wehave noticed; for when grave men call themselves dolts or lunatics, unless they are really so, they must have some reason for laughing atthemselves. 

To attempt to develope this curious but obscure singularity in literaryhistory, we must go further back among the first beginnings of theseinstitutions. How were they looked on by the governments in which theyfirst appeared? These academies might, perhaps, form a chapter in thehistory of secret societies, one not yet written, but of which manycurious materials lie scattered in history. It is certain that suchliterary societies, in their first origins, have always excited thejealousy of governments, but more particularly in ecclesiastical Rome, and the rival principalities of Italy. If two great nations, like thoseof England and France, had their suspicions and fears roused by a selectassembly of philosophical men, and either put them down by force, orclosely watched them, this will not seem extraordinary in littledespotic states. We have accounts of some philosophical associations athome, which were joined by Sir Philip Sidney and Sir Walter Raleigh, butwhich soon got the odium of atheism attached to them; and theestablishment of the French Academy occasioned some umbrage, for a yearelapsed before the parliament of Paris would register their patent, which was at length accorded by the political Richelieu observing to thepresident, that "he should like the members according as the membersliked him. " Thus we have ascertained one principle, that governments inthose times looked on a new society with a political glance; nor is itimprobable that some of them combined an ostensible with a latentmotive. 

There is no want of evidence to prove that the modern Romans, from thethirteenth to the fifteenth century, were too feelingly alive to theirobscured glory, and that they too frequently made invidious comparisonsof their ancient republic with the pontifical government; to reviveRome, with everything Roman, inspired such enthusiasts as Rienzi, andcharmed the visions of Petrarch. At a period when ancient literature, asif by a miracle, was raising itself from its grave, the learned wereagitated by a correspondent energy; not only was an estate sold topurchase a manuscript, but the relic of genius was touched with areligious emotion. The classical purity of Cicero was contrasted withthe barbarous idiom of the Missal; the glories of ancient Rome with themiserable subjugation of its modern pontiffs; and the metaphysicalreveries of Plato, and what they termed the "EnthusiasmusAlexandrinus"--the dreams of the Platonists--seemed to the fancifulItalians more elevated than the humble and pure ethics of the Gospels. The vain and amorous Eloisa could even censure the gross manners, as itseemed to her, of the apostles, for picking the ears of corn in theirwalks, and at their meals eating with unwashed hands. Touched by thismania of antiquity, the learned affected to change their vulgarChristian name, by assuming the more classical ones of a Junius Brutus, a Pomponius, or a Julius, or any other rusty name unwashed by baptism. This frenzy for the ancient republic not only menaced the pontificate, but their Platonic or their pagan ardours seemed to be striking at thefoundation of Christianity itself. Such were Marcellus Ficinus, and thatlearned society who assembled under the Medici. Pomponius Lætus, wholived at the close of the fifteenth century, not only celebrated by anannual festival the foundation of Rome, and raised altars to Romulus, but openly expressed his contempt for the Christian religion, which thisvisionary declared was only fit for barbarians; but this extravaganceand irreligion, observes Niceron, were common with many of the learnedof those times, and this very Pomponius was at length formally accusedof the crime of changing the baptismal names of the young persons whomhe taught for pagan ones! "This was the taste of the times, " says theauthor we have just quoted; but it was imagined that there was a mysteryconcealed in these changes of names. 

At this period these literary societies first appear: one at Rome hadthe title of "Academy, " and for its chief this very Pomponius; for he isdistinguished as "Romanæ Princeps Academiæ, " by his friend Politian, inthe "Miscellanea" of that elegant scholar. This was under thepontificate of Paul the Second. The regular meetings of "the Academy"soon excited the jealousy and suspicions of Paul, and gave rise to oneof the most horrid persecutions and scenes of torture, even to death, inwhich these academicians were involved. This closed with a decree ofPaul's, that for the future no one should pronounce, either seriously orin jest, the very name of _academy_, under the penalty of heresy! Thestory is told by Platina, one of the sufferers, in his Life of Paul theSecond; and although this history may be said to bear the bruises of thewounded and dislocated body of the unhappy historian, the facts areunquestionable, and connected with our subject. Platina, Pomponius, andmany of their friends, were suddenly dragged to prison; on the first andsecond day torture was applied, and many expired under the hands oftheir executioners. "You would have imagined, " says Platina, "that thecastle of St. Angelo was turned into the bull of Phalaris, so loud thehollow vault resounded with the cries of those miserable young men, whowere an honour to their age for genius and learning. The torturers, notsatisfied, though weary, having racked twenty men in these two days, ofwhom some died, at length sent for me to take my turn. The instrumentsof torture were ready; I was stripped, and the executioners putthemselves to their work. Vianesius sat like another Minos on a seat oftapestry-work, gay as at a wedding; and while I hung on the rack intorment, he played with a jewel which Sanga had, asking him who was themistress which had given him this love-token? Turning to me, he asked, 'why Pomponio, in a letter, should call me Holy Father? Did theconspirators agree to make you pope?' 'Pomponio, ' I replied, 'can besttell why he gave me this title, for I know not. ' At length, havingpleased, but not satisfied himself with my tortures, he ordered me tobe let down, that I might undergo tortures much greater in the evening. I was carried, half dead, into my chamber; but not long after, theinquisitor having dined, and being fresh in drink, I was fetched again, and the archbishop of Spalatro was there. They inquired of myconversations with Malatesta. I said it only concerned ancient andmodern learning, the military arts, and the characters of illustriousmen, the ordinary subjects of conversation. I was bitterly threatened byVianesius, unless I confessed the truth on the following day, and wascarried back to my chamber, where I was seized with such extreme pain, that I had rather have died than endured the agony of my battered anddislocated limbs. But now those who were accused of heresy were chargedwith plotting treason. Pomponius being examined why he changed the namesof his friends, he answered boldly, that this was no concern of hisjudges or the pope; it was, perhaps, out of respect for antiquity, tostimulate to a virtuous emulation. After we had now lain ten months inprison, Paul comes himself to the castle, where he charged us, amongother things, that we had disputed concerning the immortality of thesoul, and that we held the opinion of Plato; by disputing you call thebeing of a God in question. This, I said, might be objected to alldivines and philosophers, who, to make the truth appear, frequentlyquestion the existence of souls and of God, and of all separateintelligences. St. Austin says, the opinion of Plato is like the faithof Christians. I followed none of the numerous heretical factions. Paulthen accused us of being too great admirers of pagan antiquities; yetnone were more fond of them than himself, for he collected all thestatues and sarcophagi of the ancients to place in his palace, and evenaffected to imitate, on more than one occasion, the pomp and charm oftheir public ceremonies. While they were arguing, mention happened to bemade of 'the Academy, ' when the Cardinal of San Marco cried out, that wewere not 'Academics, ' but a scandal to the name; and Paul now declaredthat he would not have that term evermore mentioned under pain ofheresy. He left us in a passion, and kept us two months longer in prisonto complete the year, as it seems he had sworn. "

Such is the interesting narrative of Platina, from which we may surelyinfer, that if these learned men assembled for the communication oftheir studies--inquiries suggested by the monuments of antiquity, thetwo learned languages, ancient authors, and speculative points ofphilosophy--these objects were associated with others which terrifiedthe jealousy of modern Rome. 

Some time after, at Naples, appeared the two brothers, John Baptiste andJohn Vincent Porta, those twin spirits, the Castor and Pollux of thenatural philosophy of that age, and whose scenical museum delighted andawed, by its optical illusions, its treasure of curiosities, and itsnatural magic, all learned natives and foreigners. Their names are stillfamous, and their treatises, _De Humana Physiognomia_ and _MagiaNaturalis_, are still opened by the curious, who discover these childrenof philosophy wandering in the arcana of nature, to them a world ofperpetual beginnings! These learned brothers united with the Marquis ofManso, the friend of Tasso, in establishing an academy under thewhimsical name _degli Oziosi_ (the Lazy), which so ill-described theirintentions. This academy did not sufficiently embrace the views of thelearned brothers; and then they formed another under their own roof, which they appropriately named _degli Secreti_. The ostensible motivewas, that no one should be admitted into this interior society who hadnot signalised himself by some experiment or discovery. It is clearthat, whatever they intended by the project, the election of the memberswas to pass through the most rigid scrutiny; and what was theconsequence? The court of Rome again started up with all its fears, and, secretly obtaining information of some discussions which had passed inthis academy _degli Secreti_, prohibited the Porta's from holding suchassemblies, or applying themselves to those illicit sciences, whoseamusements are criminal, and turn us aside from the study of the HolyScriptures. [307] It seems that one of the Porta's had delivered himselfin the style of an ancient oracle; but what was more alarming in thisprophetical spirit, several of his predictions had been actuallyverified! The infallible court was in no want of a new school ofprophecy. Baptista Porta went to Rome to justify himself; and, contentto wear his head, placed his tongue in the custody of his Holiness, andno doubt preferred being a member of the _Accademia degli Oziosi_ tothat _degli Secreti_. To confirm this notion that these academiesexcited the jealousy of those despotic states of Italy, I find thatseveral of them, at Florence as well as at Sienna, were considered asdangerous meetings, and in 1568 the Medici suddenly suppressed those ofthe "Insipids, " the "Shy, " the "Disheartened, " and others, but moreparticularly the "Stunned, " _gli Intronati_, which excited loud laments. We have also an account of an academy which called itself the_Lanternists_, from the circumstance that their first meetings were heldat night, the academicians not carrying torches, but only _Lanterns_. This academy, indeed, was at Toulouse, but evidently formed on the modelof its neighbours. In fine, it cannot be denied that these literarysocieties or academies were frequently objects of alarm to the littlegovernments of Italy, and were often interrupted by politicalpersecution. 

From all these facts I am inclined to draw an inference. It isremarkable that the first Italian academies were only distinguished bythe simple name of their founders. One was called the Academy ofPomponius Lætus, another of Panormita, &c. It was after the melancholyfate of the Roman academy of Lætus, which could not, however, extinguishthat growing desire of creating literary societies in the Italiancities, from which the members derived both honour and pleasure, thatsuddenly we discover these academies bearing the most fantasticaltitles. I have not found any writer who has attempted to solve thisextraordinary appearance in literary history; and the difficulty seemsgreat, because, however frivolous or fantastical the titles theyassumed, their members were illustrious for rank and genius. Tiraboschi, aware of this difficulty, can only express his astonishment at theabsurdity, and his vexation at the ridicule to which the Italians havebeen exposed by the coarse jokes of Menkenius, in his _CharlatanariaEruditorum_. [308] I conjecture that the invention of these ridiculoustitles for literary societies was an attempt to throw a sportive veilover meetings which had alarmed the papal and the other petty courts ofItaly; and to quiet their fears and turn aside their political wrath, they implied the innocence of their pursuits by the jocularity withwhich the members treated themselves, and were willing that othersshould treat them. This otherwise inexplicable national levity, of sorefined a people, has not occurred in any other country, because thenecessity did not exist anywhere but in Italy. In France, in Spain, andin England, the title of the ancient Academus was never profaned by anadjunct which systematically degraded and ridiculed its venerablecharacter and its illustrious members. 

Long after this article was finished, I had an opportunity of consultingan eminent Italian, whose name is already celebrated in our country, IlSigr. Ugo Foscolo;[309] his decision ought necessarily to outweigh mine;but although it is incumbent on me to put the reader in possession ofthe opinion of a native of his high acquirements, it is not as easy forme, on this obscure and curious subject, to relinquish my ownconjecture. 

Il Sigr. Foscolo is of opinion that the origin of the fantastical titlesassumed by the Italian academies entirely arose from a desire of gettingrid of the air of pedantry, and to insinuate that their meetings andtheir works were to be considered merely as sportive relaxations, and anidle business. 

This opinion may satisfy an Italian, and this he may deem a sufficientapology for such absurdity; but when scarlet robes and cowled heads, laureated bards and _Monsignores_, and _Cavalleros_, baptize themselvesin a public assembly "Blockheads" or "Madmen, " we _ultramontanes_, outof mere compliment to such great and learned men, would suppose thatthey had their good reasons; and that in this there must have been"something more than meets the ear. " After all, I would almost flattermyself that our two opinions are not so wide of each other as they atfirst seem to be. 

ON THE HERO OF HUDIBRAS; BUTLER VINDICATED. 

That great Original, the author of HUDIBRAS, has been recently censuredfor exposing to ridicule the Sir Samuel Luke, under whose roof he dwelt, in the grotesque character of his hero. The knowledge of the critic inour literary history is not curious; he appears to have advanced nofurther than to have taken up the first opinion he found; but thisserved for an attempt to blacken the moral character of BUTLER! "Havinglived, " says our critic, "in the family of Sir Samuel Luke, one ofCromwell's captains, at the very time he planned the Hudibras, of whichhe was pleased to make his _kind and hospitable patron_ the hero. Wedefy the history of Whiggism to match this anecdote, "[310] as if itcould not be matched! Whigs and Tories are as like as two eggs when theyare wits and satirists; their friends too often become their victims! IfSir Samuel resembled that renowned personification, the ridicule waslegitimate and unavoidable when the poet had espoused his cause, andespoused it too from the purest motive--a detestation of political andfanatical hypocrisy. [311] Comic satirists, whatever they may allege tothe contrary, will always draw largely and most truly from their owncircle. After all, it does not appear that Sir Samuel sat for SirHudibras; although from the hiatus still in the poem, at the end of PartI. , Canto I. , his name would accommodate both the metre and the rhyme. But who, said Warburton, ever compared a person to himself? Butler mightaim a sly stroke at Sir Samuel by hinting to him how well he resembledHudibras, but with a remarkable forbearance he has left posterity tosettle the affair, which is certainly not worth their while. ButWarburton tells, that a friend of Butler's had declared the person was aDevonshire man--one Sir Harry Rosewell, of Ford Abbey, in that county. There is a curious life of our learned wit, in the great GeneralDictionary; the writer, probably Dr. Birch, made the most authenticresearches, from the contemporaries of Butler or their descendants; andfrom Charles Longueville, the son of Butler's great friend, he obtainedmuch of the little we possess. The writer of this Life believes that SirSamuel was the hero of Butler, and rests his evidence on the hiatus wehave noticed; but with the candour which becomes the literary historian, he has added the following marginal note: "Whilst this sheet was atpress, I was assured by Mr. Longueville, that Sir Samuel Luke _is notthe person_ ridiculed under the name of HUDIBRAS. "

It would be curious, after all, should the prototype of Hudibras turnout to be one of the heroes of "the Rolliad;" a circumstance which, hadit been known to the copartnership of that comic epic, would havefurnished a fine episode and a memorable hero to their line of descent. "When BUTLER wrote his Hudibras, _one Coll. Rolle_, a Devonshire man, lodged with him, and was exactly like his description of the Knight;whence it is highly probable, that it was this gentleman, and not SirSamuel Luke, whose person he had in his eye. The reason that he gave forcalling his poem _Hudibras_ was, because the name of the old tutelarsaint of Devonshire was _Hugh de Bras_. " I find this in the GrubstreetJournal, January, 1731, a periodical paper conducted by two eminentliterary physicians, under the appropriate names of Bavius andMævius, [312] and which for some time enlivened the town with theexcellent design of ridiculing silly authors and stupid critics. 

It is unquestionably proved, by the confession of several friends ofButler, that the prototype of Sir Hudibras was a Devonshire man; and ifSir _Hugh de Bras_ be the old patron saint of Devonshire, (which howeverI cannot find in Prince's or in Fuller's Worthies, )[313] this discoversthe suggestion which led Butler to the _name_ of his hero; burlesquingthe _new saint_ by pairing him with the chivalrous saint of the county;hence, like the Knight of old, did

 Sir _Knight_ abandon dwelling, And out he rode a _Colonelling!_

This origin of the name is more appropriate to the character of the workthan deriving it from the Sir Hudibras of Spenser, with whom thereexists no similitude. 

It is as honourable as it is extraordinary, that such was the celebrityof Hudibras, that the workman's name was often confounded with the workitself; the poet was once better known under the name of HUDIBRAS thanof BUTLER. Old Southern calls him "Hudibras Butler;" and if any onewould read the most copious life we have of this great poet in the greatGeneral Dictionary, he must look for a name he is not accustomed to findamong English authors --that of _Hudibras_! One fact is remarkable:that, like Cervantes, and unlike Rabelais and Sterne, Butler in hisgreat work has not sent down to posterity a single passage of indecentribaldry, though it was written amidst a court which would have got suchby heart, and in an age in which such trash was certain of popularity. 

We know little more of Butler than we do of Shakspeare and of Spenser!Longueville, the devoted friend of our poet, has unfortunately left noreminiscences of the departed genius whom he so intimately knew, and whobequeathed to Longueville the only legacy a neglected poet couldleave--all his manuscripts; and to his care, though not to his spirit, we are indebted for Butler's "Remains. " His friend attempted to bury himwith the public honours he deserved, among the tombs of hisbrother-bards in Westminster Abbey; but he was compelled to consign thebard to an obscure burial-place in Paul's, Covent Garden. [314] Manyyears after, when Alderman Barber raised an inscription to the memory ofButler in Westminster Abbey, others were desirous of placing one overthe poet's humble gravestone. This probably excited some competition:and the following fine one, attributed to Dennis, has perhaps never beenpublished. If it be Dennis's, it must have been composed in one of hismost lucid moments. 

 Near this place lies interred The body of Mr. Samuel Butler, Author of Hudibras. He was a whole species of Poets in one! Admirable in a Manner In which no one else has been tolerable; A Manner which began and ended in Him; In which he knew no Guide, And has found no Followers. [315]

To this too brief article I add a proof that that fanaticism which isbranded by our immortal Butler can survive the castigation. Folly issometimes immortal, as nonsense is sometimes irrefutable. Ancientfollies revive, and men repeat the same unintelligible jargon: just ascontagion keeps up the plague in Turkey by lying hid in some obscurecorner, till it breaks out afresh. Recently we have seen a notableinstance where one of the school to which we are alluding declares ofShakspeare that "it would have been happy if he had never been born, forthat thousands will look back with incessant anguish on the guiltydelight which the plays of Shakspeare ministered to them. "[316] Such isthe anathema of Shakspeare! We have another of Butler, in "An HistoricDefence of Experimental Religion;" in which the author contends, thatthe best men have experienced the agency of the Holy Spirit in animmediate illumination from heaven. He furnishes his historic proofs bya list from Abel to Lady Huntingdon! The author of Hudibras isdenounced, "_One_ Samuel Butler, a celebrated _buffoon_ in the abandonedreign of Charles the Second, wrote a mock-heroic poem, in which heundertook to burlesque the pious puritan. He ridicules all the graciouspromises by comparing the _divine illumination_ to an _ignis fatuus_, and dark lantern of the spirit. "[317] Such are the writers whose asceticspirit is still descending among us from the monkery of the deserts, adding poignancy to the very ridicule they would annihilate. The satirewhich we deemed obsolete, we find still applicable to contemporaries!

The FIRST part of Hudibras is the most perfect; that was the rich fruitof matured meditation, of wit, of learning, and of leisure. A mind ofthe most original powers had been perpetually acted on by some of themost extraordinary events and persons of political and religioushistory. Butler had lived amidst scenes which might have excitedindignation and grief; but his strong contempt of the actors could onlysupply ludicrous images and caustic raillery. Yet once, when villany wasat its zenith, his solemn tones were raised to reach it. [318]

The SECOND part was precipitated in the following year. An interval offourteen years was allowed to elapse before the THIRD and last part wasgiven to the world; but then everything had changed! the poet, thesubject, and the patron! The old theme of the sectarists had lost itsfreshness, and the cavaliers, with their royal libertine, had become asobnoxious to public decency as the Tartuffes. Butler appears to haveturned aside, and to have given an adverse direction to his satiricalarrows. The slavery and dotage of Hudibras to the widow revealed thevoluptuous epicurean, who slept on his throne, dissolved in the arms ofhis mistresses. "The enchanted bower, " and "The amorous suit, " ofHudibras reflected the new manners of this wretched court; and thatButler had become the satirist of the party whose cause he had formerlyso honestly espoused, is confirmed by his "Remains, " where, among othernervous satires, is one, "On the licentious age of Charles the Second, contrasted with the puritanical one that preceded it. " This then is thegreater glory of Butler, that his high and indignant spirit equallysatirised the hypocrites of Cromwell and the libertines of Charles. 

SHENSTONE'S SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 

The inimitable "School-Mistress" of Shenstone is one of the felicitiesof genius; but the purpose of this poem has been entirely misconceived. Johnson, acknowledging this charming effusion to be "the most pleasingof Shenstone's productions" observes, "I know not what claim it has tostand among the _moral works_. " The truth is, that it was intended forquite a different class by the author, and Dodsley, the editor of hisworks, must have strangely blundered in designating it "a moral poem. "It may be classed with a species of poetry, till recently, rare in ourlanguage, and which we sometimes find among the Italians, in their _rimepiacevoli_, or _poesie burlesche_, which do not always consist of lowhumour in a facetious style with jingling rhymes, to which form weattach our idea of a burlesque poem. There is a refined species ofludicrous poetry, which is comic yet tender, lusory yet elegant, andwith such a blending of the serious and the facetious, that the resultof such a poem may often, among its other pleasures, produce a sort ofambiguity; so that we do not always know whether the writer is laughingat his subject, or whether he is to be laughed at. Our admirableWhistlecraft met this fate![319] "The School-Mistress" of Shenstone hasbeen admired for its simplicity and tenderness, not for its exquisitelyludicrous turn!

This discovery I owe to the good fortune of possessing the edition of"The School-Mistress, " which the author printed under his owndirections, and to his own fancy. [320] To this piece of LUDICROUSPOETRY, as he calls it, "lest it should be mistaken, " he added aLUDICROUS INDEX, "purely to show fools that I am in jest. " But "thefool, " his subsequent editor, who, I regret to say, was Robert Dodsley, thought proper to suppress this amusing "ludicrous index, " and theconsequence is, as the poet foresaw, that his aim has been "mistaken. "

The whole history of this poem, and this edition, may be traced in theprinted correspondence of Shenstone. Our poet had pleased himself byornamenting "A sixpenny pamphlet, " with certain "seemly" designs of his, and for which he came to town to direct the engraver; he appears also tohave intended accompanying it with "The deformed portrait of my oldschool-dame, Sarah Lloyd. " The frontispiece to this first editionrepresents the "Thatched-house" of his old schoolmistress, and before itis the "birch-tree, " with "the sun setting and gilding the scene. " Hewrites on this, "I have the first sheet to correct upon the table. Ihave laid aside the thoughts of fame a good deal in this unpromisingscheme; and fix them upon the landskip which is engraving, the redletter which I propose, and the fruit-piece which you see, being themost seemly ornaments of the first sixpenny pamphlet that was ever sohighly honoured. I shall incur the same reflection with Ogilby, ofhaving nothing good but my decorations. I expect that in yourneighbourhood and in Warwickshire there should be twenty of my poemssold. I print it myself. I am pleased with Mynde's engravings. "

On the publication Shenstone has opened his idea on its poeticalcharacteristic. "I dare say it must be very incorrect; for I have addedeight or ten stanzas within this fortnight. But inaccuracy is moreexcusable in _ludicrous poetry_ than in any other. If it strikes _any_, it must be merely people of _taste_; for people of _wit_ without taste, which comprehends the larger part of the critical tribe, willunavoidably despise it. I have been at some pains to recover myself fromA. Phi**** misfortune of mere _childishness_, 'Little charm of placidmien, ' &c. I have added a _ludicrous index_ purely to show (fools) thatI am in jest; and my motto, 'O, quà sol habitabiles illustrat oras, maxima principum!' is calculated for the same purpose. You cannotconceive how large the number is of those that mistake burlesque for thevery foolishness it exposes; which observation I made once at the_Rehearsal_, at _Tom Thumb_, at _Chrononhotonthologos_, all which, arepieces of elegant humour. I have some mind to pursue this cautionfurther, and advertise it 'The School-Mistress, ' &c. A very _childish_performance everybody knows (_novorum more_). But if a person seriouslycalls this, or rather burlesque, a childish or low species of poetry, he says wrong. For the most regular and formal poetry may be calledtrifling, folly, and weakness, in comparison of what is written with amore _manly_ spirit in ridicule of it. '

This edition is now lying before me, with its splendid "red-letter, " its"seemly designs, " and, what is more precious, its "Index. " Shenstone, who had greatly pleased himself with his graphical inventions, at lengthfound that his engraver, Mynde, had sadly bungled with the poet's ideal. Vexed and disappointed, he writes, "I have been plagued to death aboutthe ill-execution of my designs. Nothing is certain in London butexpense, which I can ill bear. " The truth is, that what is placed in thelandskip over the thatched-house, and the birch-tree, is like a fallingmonster rather than a setting sun; but the fruit-piece at the end, thegrapes, the plums, the melon, and the Catharine pears, Mr. Mynde hasmade sufficiently tempting. This edition contains only twenty-eightstanzas, which were afterwards enlarged to thirty-five. Several stanzashave been omitted, and they have also passed through many corrections, and some improvements, which show that Shenstone had more judgment andfelicity in severe correction than perhaps is suspected. Some of these Iwill point out. [321]

In the second stanza, the _first_ edition has, In every mart that stands on Britain's isle, In every village less reveal'd to fame, Dwells there in cottage known about a mile, A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name. 

Improved thus:--

 In every village mark'd with little spire, Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to fame, There dwells in lowly shed and mean attire, A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name. 

The eighth stanza, in the _first_ edition, runs, The gown, which o'er her shoulders thrown she had, Was russet stuff (who knows not russet stuff?) Great comfort to her mind that she was clad In texture of her own, all strong and tough; Ne did she e'er complain, ne deem it rough, &c. 

More elegantly descriptive is the dress as now delineated:--

 A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown, A russet kirtle fenced the nipping air; 'Twas simple russet, but it was her own: 'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair, 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare, &c. 

The additions made to the first edition consist of the 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15th stanzas, in which are so beautifully introduced the herbs andgarden stores, and the psalmody of the schoolmistress; the 29th and 30thstanzas were also subsequent insertions. But those lines which give sooriginal a view of genius in its infancy, A little bench of heedless bishops here, And there a chancellor in embryo, &c. 

were printed in 1742; and I cannot but think that the far-famed stanzain Gray's Elegy, where he discovers men of genius in peasants, asShenstone has in children, was suggested by this original conception:

 Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood, is, to me, a congenial thought, with an echoed turn of expression of thelines from the School-Mistress. 

I shall now restore the ludicrous INDEX, and adapt it to the stanzas ofthe later edition. 

 Stanza Introduction 1 The subject proposed 2 A circumstance in the situation of the MANSION OF EARLY DISCIPLINE, discovering the surprising influence of the connexions of ideas 3 A simile; introducing a deprecation of the joyless effects of BIGOTRY and SUPERSTITION 4 Some peculiarities indicative of a COUNTRY SCHOOL, with a short sketch of the SOVEREIGN presiding over it 5 Some account of her NIGHTCAP, APRON, and a tremendous description of her BIRCHEN SCEPTER 6 A parallel instance of the advantages of LEGAL GOVERNMENT with regard to children and the wind 7 Her gown 8 Her TITLES, and punctilious nicety in the ceremonious assertion of them A digression concerning her HEN'S presumptuous behaviour, with a circumstance tending to give the cautious reader a more accurate idea of the officious diligence and economy of an old woman. 10 A view of this RURAL POTENTATE as seated in her chair of state, conferring HONOURS, distributing BOUNTIES, and dispersing PROCLAMATIONS 16 Her POLICIES 17 The ACTION of the poem commences with a general summons, follows a particular description of the artful structure, decoration, and fortifications of an HORN-BIBLE 18 A surprising picture of sisterly affection by way of episode 20, 21 A short list of the methods now in use to avoid a whipping--which nevertheless follows 22 The force of example 23 A sketch of the particular symptoms of obstinacy as they discover themselves in a child, with a simile illustrating a blubbered face 24, 25, 26 A hint of great importance 27 The piety of the poet in relation to that school-dame's memory, who had the first formation of a CERTAIN patriot. [This stanza has been left out in the later editions; it refers to the Duke of Argyle. ] The secret connexion between WHIPPING and RISING IN THE WORLD, with a view, as it were, through a perspective, of the same LITTLE FOLK in the highest posts and reputation 28 An account of the nature of an EMBRYO-FOX-HUNTER. -- [Another stanza omitted. ] A deviation to an huckster's shop 32 Which being continued for the space of three stanzas, gives the author an opportunity of paying his compliments to a particular county, which he gladly seizes; concluding his piece with respectful mention of the ancient and loyal city of SHREWSBURY. 

BEN JONSON ON TRANSLATION. 

I have discovered a poem by this great poet, which has escaped theresearches of all his editors. Prefixed to a translation, translation isthe theme; with us an unvalued art, because our translators have usuallybeen the jobbers of booksellers; but no inglorious one among our Frenchand Italian rivals. In this poem, if the reader's ear be guided by thecompressed sense of the massive lines, he may feel a rhythm which, should they be read like our modern metre, he will find wanting; herethe fulness of the thoughts forms their own cadences. The mind ismusical as well as the ear. One verse running into another, and thesense often closing in the middle of a line, is the Club of Hercules;Dryden sometimes succeeded in it, Churchill abused it, and Cowperattempted to revive it. Great force of thought only can wield thisverse. 

 _On the_ AUTHOR, WORKE, _and_ TRANSLATOR, _prefixed to the translation of Mateo Alemans's Spanish Rogue_, 1623. 

 Who tracks this author's or translator's pen Shall finde, that either hath read bookes, and men: To say but one were single. Then it chimes, When the old words doe strike on the new times, As in this Spanish Proteus; who, though writ But in one tongue, was formed with the world's wit: And hath the noblest marke of a good booke, That an ill man dares not securely looke Upon it, but will loath, or let it passe, As a deformed face doth a true glasse. Such bookes deserve translators of like coate As was the genius wherewith they were wrote; And this hath met that one, that may be stil'd More than the foster-father of this child; For though Spaine gave him his first ayre and vogue He would be call'd, henceforth, _the English rogue_, But that hee's too well suted, in a cloth Finer than was his Spanish, if my oath Will be receiv'd in court; if not, would I Had cloath'd him so! Here's all I can supply To your desert who have done it, friend! And this Faire aemulation, and no envy is; When you behold me wish myselfe, the man That would have done, that, which you only can! BEN JONSON. 

The translator of _Guzman_ was James Mabbe, which he disguised under theSpanish pseudonym of _Diego Puede-ser_; _Diego_ for _James_, and_Puede-ser_ for _Mabbe_ or _May-be_! He translated, with the same spiritas his Guzman, _Celestina, or the Spanish Bawd_, that singulartragi-comedy, --a version still more remarkable. He had resided aconsiderable time in Spain, and was a perfect master of bothlanguages, --a rare talent in a translator; and the consequence is, thathe is a translator of genius. 

THE LOVES OF "THE LADY ARABELLA. "[322]

 Where London's towre its turrets show So stately by the Thames's side, Faire Arabella, child of woe! For many a day had sat and sighed. 

 And as shee heard the waves arise, And as shee heard the bleake windes roare, As fast did heave her heartfelte sighes, And still so fast her teares did poure! _Arabella Stuart, in Evans's Old Ballads_. (Probably written by Mickle. )

The name of Arabella Stuart, Mr. Lodge observes, "is scarcely mentionedin history. " The whole life of this lady seems to consist of secrethistory, which, probably, we cannot now recover. The writers who haveventured to weave together her loose and scattered story are ambiguousand contradictory. How such slight domestic incidents as her lifeconsisted of could produce results so greatly disproportioned to theirapparent cause may always excite our curiosity. Her name scarcely everoccurs without raising that sort of interest which accompaniesmysterious events, and more particularly when we discover that this ladyis so frequently alluded to by her foreign contemporaries. 

The historians of the Lady Arabella have fallen into the grossesterrors. Her chief historian has committed a violent injury on her veryperson, which, in the history of a female, is not the least important. In hastily consulting two passages relative to her, he applied to theLady Arabella the defective understanding and headstrong dispositions ofher aunt, the Countess of Shrewsbury; and by another misconception of aterm, as I think, asserts that the Lady Arabella was distinguishedneither for beauty nor intellectual qualities. [323] This authoritativedecision perplexed the modern editor, Kippis, whose researches werealways limited; Kippis had gleaned from Oldys's precious manuscripts asingle note which shook to its foundations the whole structure beforehim; and he had also found, in Ballard, to his utter confusion, somehints that the Lady Arabella was a learned woman, and of a poeticalgenius, though even the writer himself, who had recorded this discovery, was at a loss to ascertain the fact! It is amusing to observe honestGeorge Ballard in the same dilemma as honest Andrew Kippis. "This lady, "he says, "was not more distinguished for the dignity of her birth thancelebrated for her fine parts and learning; and yet, " he adds, in allthe simplicity of his ingenuousness, "I know so little in relation tothe two last accomplishments, that I should not have given her a placein these memoirs had not Mr. Evelyn put her in his list of learnedwomen, and Mr. Philips (Milton's nephew) introduced her among his modernpoetesses. "

"The Lady Arabella, " for by that name she is usually noticed by hercontemporaries, rather than by her maiden name of Stuart, or by hermarried one of Seymour, as she latterly subscribed herself, was, by heraffinity with James the First and our Elizabeth, placed near the throne;too near, it seems, for her happiness and quiet![324] In their commondescent from Margaret, the elder daughter of Henry the Seventh, she wascousin to the Scottish monarch, but born an Englishwoman, which gaveher some advantage in a claim to the throne of England. "Her doublerelation to royalty, " says Mr. Lodge, "was equally obnoxious to thejealousy of Elizabeth and the timidity of James, and they secretlydreaded the supposed danger of her having a legitimate offspring. " YetJames himself, then unmarried, proposed for the husband of the LadyArabella one of her cousins, Lord Esme Stuart, whom he had created Dukeof Lennox, and designed for his heir. The first thing we hear of "theLady Arabella" concerns a marriage: marriages are the incidents of herlife, and the fatal event which terminated it was a marriage. Such wasthe secret spring on which her character and her misfortunes revolved. 

This proposed match was desirable to all parties; but there was onegreater than them all who forbad the banns. Elizabeth interposed; sheimprisoned the Lady Arabella, and would not deliver her up to the king, of whom she spoke with asperity, and even with contempt. [325] Thegreatest infirmity of Elizabeth was her mysterious conduct respectingthe succession to the English throne; her jealousy of power, her strangeunhappiness in the dread of personal neglect, made her averse to see asuccessor in her court, or even to hear of a distant one; in a successorshe could only view a competitor. Camden tells us that she frequentlyobserved, that "most men neglected the setting sun, " and this melancholypresentiment of personal neglect this political coquette not only livedto experience, but even this circumstance of keeping the successionunsettled miserably disturbed the queen on her death-bed. Her ministers, it appears, harassed her when she was lying speechless; a remarkablecircumstance, which has hitherto escaped the knowledge of her numeroushistorians, and which I shall take an opportunity of disclosing in thiswork. 

Elizabeth leaving a point so important always problematical, raised upthe very evil she so greatly dreaded; it multiplied the aspirants, whileevery party humoured itself by selecting its own claimant, and nonemore busily than the continental powers. One of the most curious is theproject of the Pope, who, intending to put aside James the First onaccount of his religion, formed a chimerical scheme of uniting Arabellawith a prince of the house of Savoy; the pretext, for without a pretextno politician moves, was their descent from a bastard of our Edward theFourth; the Duke of Parma was, however, married; but the Pope, in hisinfallibility, turned his brother the Cardinal into the Duke'ssubstitute by secularising the churchman. In that case the Cardinalwould then become King of England in right of this lady!--provided heobtained the crown![326]

We might conjecture from this circumstance that Arabella was a catholic, and so Mr. Butler has recently told us; but I know of no other authoritythan Dodd, the catholic historian, who has inscribed her name among hisparty. Parsons, the wily Jesuit, was so doubtful how the lady, whenyoung, stood disposed towards Catholicism, that he describes "herreligion to be as tender, green, and flexible as is her age and sex, andto be wrought hereafter and settled according to future events andtimes. " Yet, in 1611, when she was finally sent into confinement, onewell informed of court affairs writes, "that the Lady Arabella hath _notbeen found inclinable to popery_. "[327]

Even Henry the Fourth of France was not unfriendly to this papisticalproject of placing an Italian cardinal on the English throne. It hadalways been the state interest of the French cabinet to favour anyscheme which might preserve the realms of England and Scotland asseparate kingdoms. The manuscript correspondence of Charles the Ninthwith his ambassador at the court of London, which I have seen, tendssolely to this great purpose, and perhaps it was her French and Spanishallies which finally hastened the political martyrdom of the ScottishMary. 

Thus we have discovered _two_ chimerical husbands of the Lady Arabella. The _pretensions_ of this lady to the throne had evidently become anobject with speculating politicians; and perhaps it was to withdrawherself from the embarrassments into which she was thrown, that, according to De Thou, she intended to marry a son of the Earl ofNorthumberland; but, to the jealous terror of Elizabeth, an English Earlwas not an object of less magnitude than a Scotch Duke. This is the_third_ shadowy husband. 

When James the First ascended the English throne, there existed anAnti-Scottish party. Hardly had the northern monarch entered into the"Land of Promise, " when his southern throne was shaken by a foolishplot, which one writer calls "a state riddle;" it involved Rawleigh, andunexpectedly the Lady Arabella. The Scottish monarch was to be got ridof, and Arabella was to be crowned. Some of these silly conspiratorshaving written to her, requesting letters to be addressed to the King ofSpain, she laughed at the letter she received, and sent it to the king. Thus for a _second_ time was Arabella to have been Queen of England. This occurred in 1603, but was followed by no harsh measures from Jamesthe First. 

In the following year, 1604, I have discovered that for the _third_ timethe lady was offered a crown! "A great ambassador is coming from theKing of Poland, whose chief errand is to demand my Lady Arabella inmarriage for his master. So may your princess of the blood grow a greatqueen, and then we shall be safe from _the danger of missuperscribingletters_. "[328] This last passage seems to allude to something. What ismeant by "the danger of missuperscribing letters?"

If this royal offer were ever made, it was certainly forbidden. Can weimagine the refusal to have come from the lady, who, we shall see, sevenyears afterwards, complained that the king had neglected her, in notproviding her with a suitable match? It was at this very time that oneof those butterflies, who quiver on the fair flowers of a court, writesthat "My Ladye Arbella spends her time in lecture, reiding, &c. , and shewill not hear of marriage. Indirectly there were speaches used in therecommendation of Count Maurice, who pretendeth to be Duke of Guildres. I dare not attempt her. "[329] Here we find another princely matchproposed. Thus far, to the Lady Arabella, crowns and husbands were likea fairy banquet seen at moonlight, opening on her sight, impalpable andvanishing at the moment of approach. 

Arabella from certain circumstances was a dependent on the king'sbounty, which flowed very unequally; often reduced to great personaldistress, we find by her letters that "she prayed for present money, though it should not be annually. " I have discovered that James atlength granted her a pension. The royal favours, however, were probablylimited to her good behaviour. [330]

From 1604 to 1608 is a period which forms a blank leaf in the story ofArabella. In this last year this unfortunate lady had again fallen outof favour, and, as usual, the cause was mysterious, and not known evento the writer. Chamberlain, in a letter to Sir Ralph Winwood, mentions"the Lady Arabella's business, _whatsoever it was_, is ended, and sherestored to her former place and graces. The king gave her a cupboard ofplate, better than 200_l. _, for a new year's gift, and 1000 marks to payher debts, besides some yearly addition to her maintenance, want beingthought the chiefest cause of her discontentment, though _shee be notaltogether free from suspicion of being collapsed_. "[331] Anothermysterious expression, which would seem to allude either to politics orreligion but the fact appears by another writer to have been a discoveryof a new project of marriage without the king's consent. This person ofher choice is not named; and it was to divert her mind from the tooconstant object of her thoughts, that James, after a severe reprimand, had invited her to partake of the festivities of the court in thatseason of revelry and reconciliation. 

We now approach that event of the Lady Arabella's life which reads likea romantic fiction: the catastrophe, too, is formed by the Aristoteliancanon; for its misery, its pathos, and its terror even romantic fictionhas not exceeded!

It is probable that the king, from some political motive, had decidedthat the Lady Arabella should lead a single life; but such wise purposesfrequently meet with cross ones; and it happened that no woman was evermore solicited to the conjugal state, or seems to have been so littleaverse to it. Every noble youth who sighed for distinction ambitionedthe notice of the Lady Arabella; and she was so frequently contriving amarriage for herself, that a courtier of that day writing to another, observes, "these affectations of marriage in her do give some advantageto the world of impairing the reputation of her constant and virtuousdisposition. "[332]

The revels of Christmas had hardly closed when the Lady Arabella forgotthat she had been forgiven, and again relapsed into her old infirmity. She renewed a connexion, which had commenced in childhood, with Mr. William Seymour, the second son of Lord Beauchamp, and grandson of theEarl of Hertford. His character has been finely described by Clarendon:he loved his studies and his repose; but when the civil wars broke out, he closed his volumes and drew his sword, and was both an active and askilful general. Charles the First created him Marquis of Hertford, andgovernor of the prince; he lived to the Restoration, and Charles theSecond restored him to the dukedom of Somerset. 

This treaty of marriage was detected in February, 1609, and the partiessummoned before the privy council. Seymour was particularly censured fordaring to ally himself with the royal blood, although that blood wasrunning in his own veins. In a manuscript letter which I havediscovered, Seymour addressed the lords of the privy council. The styleis humble; the plea to excuse his intended marriage is, that being but"A young brother, and sensible of mine own good, unknown to the world, of mean estate, not born to challenge anything by my birthright, andtherefore my fortunes to be raised by mine own endeavour, and she a ladyof great honour and virtue, and, as I thought, of great means, I didplainly and honestly endeavour lawfully to gain her in marriage. " Thereis nothing romantic in this apology, in which Seymour describes himselfas a fortune-hunter! which, however, was probably done to cover hisundoubted affection for Arabella, whom he had early known. He says, that"he conceived that this noble lady might, without offence, make thechoice of any subject within this kingdom; which conceit was begotten inme upon a general report, after her ladyship's _last being called beforeyour lordships_, [333] that it might be. " He tells the story of thisancient wooing--"I boldly intruded myself into her ladyship's chamber inthe court on Candlemas-day last, at what time I imparted my desire untoher, which was entertained, but with this caution on either part, thatboth of us resolved not to proceed to any final conclusion without hismajesty's most gracious favour first obtained. And this was our firstmeeting! After that we had a second meeting at Briggs's house inFleet-street, and then a third at Mr. Baynton's; at both which we hadthe like conference and resolution as before. " He assures theirlordships that both of them had never intended marriage without hismajesty's approbation. [334]

But Love laughs at privy councils and the grave promises made by twofrightened lovers. The parties were secretly married, which wasdiscovered about July in the following year. They were then separatelyconfined, the lady at the house of Sir Thomas Parry at Lambeth, andSeymour in the Tower, for "his contempt in marrying a lady of the royalfamily without the king's leave. "

This, their first confinement, was not rigorous; the lady walked in hergarden, and the lover was a prisoner at large in the Tower. The writerin the "Biographia Britannica" observes that "Some intercourse they hadby letters, which, after a time, was discovered. " In this history oflove these might be precious documents, and in the library at Long-leatthese love-epistles, or perhaps this volume, may yet lie unread in acorner. [335] Arabella's epistolary talent was not vulgar: Dr. Montford, in a manuscript letter, describes one of those effusions which Arabellaaddressed to the king. "This letter was penned by her in the best terms, as she can do right well. It was often read without offence, nay it waseven commended by his highness, with the applause of prince andcouncil. " One of these amatory letters I have recovered. Thecircumstance is domestic, being nothing more at first than a very prettyletter on Mr. Seymour having taken cold, but, as every love-letterought, it is not without a pathetic _crescendo_; the tearing away ofhearts so firmly joined, her solitary imprisonment availed little; forthat he lived and was her own, filled her spirit with that consciousnesswhich triumphed even over that sickly frame so nearly subdued to death. The familiar style of James the First's age may bear comparison with ourown. I shall give it entire. 

 "LADY ARABELLA TO MR. WILLIAM SEYMOUR. 

 "SIR, "I am exceeding sorry to hear you have not been well. I pray you let meknow truly how you do, and what was the cause of it. I am not satisfiedwith the reason Smith gives for it; but if it be a cold, I will imputeit to some sympathy betwixt us, having myself gotten a swollen cheek atthe same time with a cold. For God's sake, let not your grief of mindwork upon your body. You may see by me what inconveniences it will bringone to; and no fortune, I assure you, daunts me so much as that weaknessof body I find in myself; for _si nous vivons l'age d'un veau_, as Marotsays, we may, by God's grace, be happier than we look for, in beingsuffered to enjoy ourself with his majesty's favour. But if we be notable to live to it, I for my part shall think myself a pattern ofmisfortune, in enjoying so great a blessing as you, so little awhile. Noseparation but that deprives me of the comfort of you. For wheresoeveryou be, or in what state soever you are, it sufficeth me you are mine!_Rachel wept, and would not be comforted, because her children were nomore. _ And that, indeed, is the remediless sorrow, and none else! Andtherefore God bless us from that, and I will hope well of the rest, though I see no apparent hope. But I am sure God's book mentioneth manyof his children in as great distress, that have done well after, even inthis world! I do assure you nothing the state can do with me can troubleme so much as this news of your being ill doth; and you see when I amtroubled, I trouble you too with tedious kindness; for so I think youwill account so long a letter, yourself not having written to me thisgood while so much as how you do. But, sweet sir, I speak not this totrouble you with writing but when you please. Be well, and I shallaccount myself happy in being

 "Your faithful loving wife, "ARB. S. "[336]

In examining the manuscripts of this lady, the defect of dates must besupplied by our sagacity. The following "petition, " as she calls it, addressed to the king in defence of her secret marriage, must have beenwritten at this time. She remonstrates with the king for what she callshis neglect of her, and while she fears to be violently separated fromher husband, she asserts her cause with a firm and noble spirit, whichwas afterwards too severely tried!

 "TO THE KING. 

 "MAY IT PLEASE YOUR MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 

"I do most heartily lament my hard fortune that I should offend yourmajesty the least, especially in that whereby I have long desired tomerit of your majesty, as appeared before your majesty was my sovereign. And though your majesty's neglect of me, my good liking of thisgentleman that is my husband, and my fortune, drew me to a contractbefore I acquainted your majesty, I humbly beseech your majesty toconsider how impossible it was for me to imagine it could be offensiveto your majesty, having _few days before given me your royal consent tobestow myself on any subject of your majesty's_ (which likewise yourmajesty had done long since). Besides, never having been eitherprohibited any, or spoken to for any, in this land, by your majesty, _these seven years_ that I have lived in your majesty's house, I couldnot conceive that your majesty regarded my marriage at all; whereas ifyour majesty had vouchsafed to tell me your mind, and accept thefree-will offering of my obedience, I would not have offended yourmajesty, of whose gracious goodness I presume so much, that _if it werenow as convenient in a worldly respect, as malice make it seem, toseparate us, whom God hath joined_, your majesty would not do evil thatgood might come thereof, nor make me, that have the honour to be so nearyour majesty in blood, the first precedent that ever was, though ourprinces may have left some as little imitable, for so good and graciousa king as your majesty, as David's dealing with Uriah. But I assuremyself, if it please your majesty in your own wisdom to considerthoroughly of my cause, there will no solid reason appear to debar me ofjustice and your princely favour, which I will endeavour to deservewhilst I breathe. "

It is indorsed, "A copy of my petition to the King's Majesty. " Inanother she implores that "If the necessity of my state and fortune, together with my weakness, have caused me to do somewhat not pleasing toyour majesty, let it be all covered with the shadow of your royalbenignity. " Again, in another petition, she writes:--

"Touching the offence for which I am now punished, I most humbly beseechyour majesty, in your most princely wisdom and judgment, to consider inwhat a miserable state I had been, if I had taken any other course thanI did; for my own conscience witnessing before God that I was then thewife of him that now I am, I could never have matched any other man, butto have lived all the days of my life as a harlot, which your majestywould have abhorred in any, especially in one who hath the honour (howotherwise unfortunate soever) to have any drop of your majesty's bloodin them. "

I find a letter of Lady Jane Drummond, in reply to this or anotherpetition, which Lady Drummond had given the queen to present to hismajesty. It was to learn the cause of Arabella's confinement. The pithyexpression of James the First is characteristic of the monarch; and thesolemn forebodings of Lady Drummond, who appears to have been a lady ofexcellent judgment, showed, by the fate of Arabella, how they were true!

 "LADY JANE DRUMMOND TO LADY ARABELLA. 

 "_Answering her prayer to know the cause of her confinement_. 

"This day her majesty hath seen your ladyship's letter. Her majestysays, that when she gave your ladyship's petition to his majesty, he didtake it well enough, but gave no other answer than that _ye had eaten ofthe forbidden tree_. This was all her majesty commanded me to say toyour ladyship in this purpose; but withal did remember her kindly toyour ladyship, and sent you this little token in witness of thecontinuance of her majesty's favour to your ladyship. Now, where yourladyship desires me to deal openly and freely with you, I protest I cansay nothing on knowledge, for I never spoke to any of that purpose butto the queen; _but the wisdom of this state, with the example how someof your quality in the like case has been used, makes me fear that yeshall not find so easy end to your troubles as ye expect or I wish_. "

In return, Lady Arabella expresses her grateful thanks--presents hermajesty with "this piece of my work, to accept in remembrance of thepoor prisoner that wrought them, in hopes her royal hands will vouchsafeto wear them, which till I have the honour to kiss, I shall live in agreat deal of sorrow. Her case, " she adds, "could be compared to noother she ever heard of, resembling no other. " Arabella, like the Queenof Scots, beguiled the hours of imprisonment by works of embroidery; forin sending a present of this kind to Sir Andrew Sinclair to be presentedto the queen, she thanks him for "vouchsafing to descend to these pettyoffices to take care even of these womanish toys, for her whose seriousmind must invent some relaxation. "

The secret correspondence of Arabella and Seymour was discovered, andwas followed by a sad scene. It must have been now that the kingresolved to consign this unhappy lady to the stricter care of the Bishopof Durham. Lady Arabella was so subdued at this distant separation, thatshe gave way to all the wildness of despair; she fell suddenly ill, andcould not travel but in a litter, and with a physician. In her way toDurham, she was so greatly disquieted in the first few miles of heruneasy and troublesome journey, that they would proceed no further thanHighgate. The physician returned to town to report her state, anddeclared that she was assuredly very weak, her pulse dull andmelancholy, and very irregular; her countenance very heavy, pale, andwan; and though free from fever, he declared her in no case fit fortravel. The king observed, "It is enough to make any sound man sick tobe carried in a bed in that manner she is; much more for her _whoseimpatient and unquiet spirit heapeth upon herself far greaterindisposition of body than otherwise she would have_. " His resolution, however, was, that "she should proceed to Durham, if he were king!" "Weanswered, " replied the Doctor, "that we made no doubt of herobedience. "--"Obedience is that required, " replied the king, "whichbeing performed, I will do more for her than she expected. "[337]

The king, however, with his usual indulgence, appears to have consentedthat Lady Arabella should remain for a month at Highgate, inconfinement, till she had sufficiently recovered to proceed to Durham, where the bishop posted, unaccompanied by his charge, to await herreception, and to the great relief of the friends of the lady, who hopedshe was still within the reach of their cares, or of the royal favour. 

A second month's delay was granted, in consequence of that letter whichwe have before noticed as so impressive and so elegant, that it wascommended by the king, and applauded by Prince Henry and the council. 

But the day of her departure hastened, and the Lady Arabella betrayed nosymptom of her first despair. She openly declared her resignation to herfate, and showed her obedient willingness, by being even over-careful inlittle preparations to make easy a long journey. Such tender grief hadwon over the hearts of her keepers, who could not but sympathise with aprincess whose love, holy and wedded too, was crossed only by thetyranny of statesmen. But Arabella had not within that tranquillity withwhich she had lulled her keepers. She and Seymour had concerted aflight, as bold in its plot, and as beautifully wild, as any recorded inromantic story. The day preceding her departure, Arabella found it notdifficult to persuade a female attendant to consent that she wouldsuffer her to pay a last visit to her husband, and to wait for herreturn at an appointed hour. More solicitous for the happiness of loversthan for the repose of kings, this attendant, in utter simplicity, orwith generous sympathy, assisted the Lady Arabella in dressing her inone of the most elaborate disguisings. "She drew a pair of largeFrench-fashioned hose or trowsers over her petticoats; put on a man'sdoublet or coat; a peruke such as men wore, whose long locks covered herown ringlets; a black hat, a black coat, russet boots with red tops, anda rapier by her side. Thus accoutred, the Lady Arabella stole out with agentleman about three o'clock in the afternoon. She had only proceeded amile and a half, when they stopped at a poor inn, where one of herconfederates was waiting with horses, yet she was so sick and faint, that the ostler, who held her stirrup, observed, that "the gentlemancould hardly hold out to London. " She recruited her spirits by riding;the blood mantled in her face; and at six o'clock our sick lover reachedBlackwall, where a boat and servants were waiting. The watermen were atfirst ordered to Woolwich; there they were desired to push on toGravesend; then to Tilbury, where, complaining of fatigue, they landedto refresh; but, tempted by their freight, they reached Lee. At thebreak of morn, they discovered a French vessel riding there to receivethe lady; but as Seymour had not yet arrived, Arabella was desirous tolie at anchor for her lord, conscious that he would not fail to hisappointment. If he indeed had been prevented in his escape, she herselfcared not to preserve the freedom she now possessed; but her attendants, aware of the danger of being overtaken by a king's ship, overruled herwishes, and hoisted sail, which occasioned so fatal a termination tothis romantic adventure. Seymour indeed had escaped from the Tower; hehad left his servant watching at the door, to warn all visitors not todisturb his master, who lay ill of a raging toothache, while Seymour indisguise stole away alone, following a cart which had brought wood tohis apartment. He passed the warders; he reached the wharf, and foundhis confidential man waiting with a boat; and he arrived at Lee. Thetime pressed; the waves were rising; Arabella was not there; but in thedistance he descried a vessel. Hiring a fisherman to take him on board, to his grief, on hailing it, he discovered that it was not the Frenchvessel charged with his Arabella. In despair and confusion, he foundanother ship from Newcastle, which for a good sum altered its course, and landed him in Flanders. In the meanwhile, the escape of Arabella wasfirst known to government; and the hot alarm which spread may seemludicrous to us. The political consequences attached to the union andthe flight of these two doves from their cotes, shook with consternationthe grey owls of the cabinet, more particularly the Scotch party, who, in their terror, paralleled it with the gunpowder treason; and somepolitical danger must have impended, at least in their imagination, forPrince Henry partook of this cabinet panic. 

Confusion and alarm prevailed at court; couriers were despatched swifterthan the winds wafted the unhappy Arabella, and all was hurry in theseaports. They sent to the Tower to warn the lieutenant to be doublyvigilant over Seymour, who, to his surprise, discovered that hisprisoner had ceased to be so for several hours. James at first was forissuing a proclamation in a style so angry and vindictive, that itrequired the moderation of Cecil to preserve the dignity while heconcealed the terror of his majesty. By the admiral's detail of hisimpetuous movements, he seemed in pursuit of an enemy's fleet; for thecourier is urged, and the post-masters are roused by a superscription, which warned them of the eventful despatch: "Haste, haste, post haste!Haste for your life, your life!"[338] The family of the Seymours were ina state of distraction; and a letter from Mr. Francis Seymour to hisgrandfather, the Earl of Hertford, residing then at his seat far remotefrom the capital, to acquaint him of the escape of his brother and thelady, still bears to posterity a remarkable evidence of the trepidationand consternation of the old earl; it arrived in the middle of thenight, accompanied by a summons to attend the privy council. In theperusal of a letter written in a small hand, and filling more than twofolio pages, such was his agitation, that in holding the taper he musthave burnt what he probably had not read; the letter is scorched, andthe flame has perforated it in so critical a part, that the poor oldearl journeyed to town in a state of uncertainty and confusion. Nor washis terror so unreasonable as it seems. Treason had been a politicalcalamity with the Seymours. Their progenitor, the Duke of Somerset theProtector, had found that "all his honours, " as Frankland strangelyexpresses it, "had helped him too forwards to hop headless. " Henry, Elizabeth, and James, says the same writer, considered that it wasneedful, as indeed in all sovereignties, that those who were nearest thecrown "should be narrowly looked into for marriage. "

But we have left the Lady Arabella alone and mournful on the seas, notpraying for favourable gales to convey her away, but still imploring herattendants to linger for her Seymour; still straining her sight to thepoint of the horizon for some speck which might give a hope of theapproach of the boat freighted with all her love. Alas! never more wasArabella to cast a single look on her lover and her husband! She wasovertaken by a pink in the king's service, in Calais roads and now shedeclared that she cared not to be brought back again to her imprisonmentshould Seymour escape, whose safety was dearest to her!

The life of the unhappy, the melancholy, and the distracted ArabellaStuart is now to close in an imprisonment, which lasted only four years;for her constitutional delicacy, her rooted sorrow, and the violence ofher feelings, sunk beneath the hopelessness of her situation, and asecret resolution in her mind to refuse the aid of her physicians, andto wear away the faster if she could, the feeble remains of life. Butwho shall paint the emotions of a mind which so much grief, and so muchlove, and distraction itself, equally possessed!

What passed in that dreadful imprisonment cannot perhaps be recoveredfor authentic history; but enough is known; that her mind grew impaired, that she finally lost her reason, and if the duration of herimprisonment was short, it was only terminated by her death. [339] Someloose effusions, often begun and never ended, written and erased, incoherent and rational, yet remain in the fragments of her papers. In aletter she proposed addressing to Viscount Fenton, to implore for herhis majesty's favour again, she says, "Good my lord, consider the faultcannot be uncommitted; neither can any more be required of any earthlycreature but confession and most humble submission. " In a paragraph shehad written, but crossed out, it seems that a present of her work hadbeen refused by the king, and that she had no one about her whom shemight trust. 

"Help will come too late; and be assured that _neither physician norother, but whom I think good, shall come about me while I live_, till Ihave his majesty's favour, without which I desire not to live. And _ifyou remember of old, I dare die_, so I be not guilty of my own death, and oppress others with my ruin too, if _there be no other way_, as Godforbid, to whom I commit you; and rest as assuredly as heretofore, ifyou be the same to me, "Your lordship's faithful friend, "A. S. "

That she had frequently meditated on suicide appears by anotherletter--"I could not be so unchristian as to be the cause of my owndeath. Consider what the world would conceive if I should be violentlyenforced to do it. "

One fragment we may save as an evidence of her utter wretchedness. 

"In all humility, the most wretched and unfortunate creature that everlived, prostrates itselfe at the feet of the most merciful king thatever was, desiring nothing but mercy and favour, not being moreafflicted for anything than for the losse of that which hath binne thislong time the onely comfort it had in the world, and which, if it weareto do again, I would not adventure the losse of for any other worldlycomfort; mercy it is I desire, and that for God's sake!"

Such is the history of the Lady Arabella, who, from some circumstancesnot sufficiently opened to us, was an important personage, designed byothers, at least, to play a high character in the political drama. Thrice selected as a queen; but the consciousness of royalty was onlyfelt in her veins while she lived in the poverty of dependence. Manygallant spirits aspired after her hand, but when her heart secretlyselected one beloved, it was for ever deprived of domestic happiness!She is said not to have been beautiful, and to have been beautiful; andher very portrait, ambiguous as her life, is neither the one nor theother. She is said to have been a poetess, but not a single versesubstantiates her claim to the laurel. She is said not to have beenremarkable for her intellectual accomplishments, yet I have found aLatin letter of her composition in her manuscripts. The materials of herlife are so scanty that it cannot be written, and yet we have sufficientreason to believe that it would be as pathetic as it would beextraordinary, could we narrate its involved incidents, and paint forthher delirious feelings. Acquainted rather with her conduct than with hercharacter, for us the Lady ARABELLA has no palpable historicalexistence; and we perceive rather her shadow than herself! A writer ofromance might render her one of those interesting personages whosegriefs have been deepened by their royalty, and whose adventures, touched with the warm hues of love and distraction, closed at the barsof her prison gate: a sad example of a female victim to the state!

 Through one dim lattice, fring'd with ivy round, Successive suns a languid radiance threw, To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd, To mark how fast her waning beauty flew!

SEYMOUR, who was afterwards permitted to return, distinguished himselfby his loyalty through three successive reigns, and retained hisromantic passion for the lady of his first affections; for he called thedaughter he had by his second lady by the ever-beloved name of ARABELLASTUART. 

DOMESTIC HISTORY OF SIR EDWARD COKE. 

Sir Edward Coke--or Cook, as now pronounced, and occasionally so writtenin his own times--that lord chief-justice whose name the laws of Englandwill preserve--has shared the fate of his great rival, the LordChancellor Bacon; for no hand worthy of their genius has pursued theirstory. Bacon, busied with nature, forgot himself. Coke who was only thegreatest of lawyers, reflected with more complacency on himself; for"among those thirty books which he had written with his own hand, mostpleasing to himself was a manual which he called _Vade Mecum_, fromwhence, at one view, he took a prospect of his life past. " Thismanuscript, which Lloyd notices, was among the fifty which, on hisdeath, were seized on by an order of council, but some years after werereturned to his heir; and this precious memorial may still bedisinterred. [340]

Coke was "the oracle of law, " but, like too many great lawyers, he wasso completely one as to have been nothing else. Coke has said, "thecommon law is the absolute perfection of all reason;" a dictum whichmight admit of some ridicule. Armed with law, he committed acts ofinjustice; for in how many cases, passion mixing itself with law, _summum jus_ becomes _summa injuria_. Official violence brutalised, andpolitical ambition extinguished, every spark of nature in this greatlawyer, when he struck at his victims, public or domestic. His solitaryknowledge, perhaps, had deadened his judgment in other studies; and yethis narrow spirit could shrink with jealousy at the celebrity obtainedby more liberal pursuits than his own. The errors of the great are asinstructive as their virtues; and the secret history of the outrageouslawyer may have, at least, the merit of novelty although not ofpanegyric. 

Coke, already enriched by his first marriage, combined power with addedwealth, in his union with the relict of Sir William Hatton, the sisterof Thomas Lord Burleigh. Family alliance was the policy of that prudentage of political interests. Bacon and Cecil married two sisters;Walsingham and Mildmay two others; Knowles, Essex, and Leicester, werelinked by family alliances. Elizabeth, who never designed to marryherself, was anxious to intermarry her court dependents, and to disposeof them so as to secure their services by family interests. [341]Ambition and avarice, which had instigated Coke to form this alliance, punished their creature, by mating him with a spirit haughty andintractable as his own. It is a remarkable fact, connected with thecharacter of Coke, that this great lawyer suffered his second marriageto take place in an illegal manner, and condescended to plead ignoranceof the laws! He had been married in a private house, without banns orlicence, at a moment when the archbishop was vigilantly prosecutinginformal and irregular marriages. Coke, with his habitual pride, imagined that the rank of the parties concerned would have set him abovesuch restrictions. The laws which he administered he appears to haveconsidered had their indulgent exceptions for the great. But Whitgiftwas a primitive Christian; and the circumstance involved Coke and thewhole family in a prosecution in the ecclesiastical court, and nearly inthe severest of its penalties. The archbishop appears to have beenfully sensible of the overbearing temper of this great lawyer; for whenCoke became the attorney-general, we cannot but consider, as aningenious reprimand, the archbishop's gift of a Greek testament, withthis message, that "He had studied the common law long enough, andshould henceforward study the law of God. "

The atmosphere of a court proved variable with so stirring a genius; andas a constitutional lawyer, Coke, at times, was the stern asserter ofthe kingly power, or its intrepid impugner; but his personaldispositions led to predominance, and he too often usurped authority andpower with the relish of one who loved them too keenly. "You make thelaws too much lean to your opinion, whereby you show yourself to be alegal tyrant, " said Lord Bacon, in his admonitory letter to Coke. 

In 1616 Coke was out of favour for more causes than one, and his greatrival, Bacon, was paramount at the council table. [342] Perhaps Coke feltmore humiliated by appearing before his judges, who were every oneinferior to him as lawyers, than by the weak triumph of his enemies, whoreceived him with studied insult. The queen informed the king of thetreatment the disgraced lord chief-justice had experienced, and, in anangry letter, James declared that "he prosecuted Coke _ad correctionem_not _ad destructionem_;" and afterwards at the council spoke of Coke"with so many good words, as if he meant to hang him with a silkenhalter;" even his rival Bacon made this memorable acknowledgment, inreminding the judges that "such a man was not every day to be found, norso soon made as marred. " When his successor was chosen, the LordChancellor Egerton, in administering the oath, accused Coke "of manyerrors and vanities for his ambitious popularity. " Coke, however, lostno friends in this disgrace, nor lost his haughtiness; for when the newchief-justice sent to purchase his Collar of SS. , Coke returned foranswer, that "he would not part with it, but leave it to his posterity, that they might one day know they had a chief-justice to theirancestor. "[343]

In this temporary alienation of the royal smiles, Coke attempted theirrenewal by a project, which, involved a domestic sacrifice. When theking was in Scotland, and Lord Bacon, as lord-keeper, sat at the head ofaffairs, his lordship was on ill terms with Secretary Winwood, whom Cokeeasily persuaded to resume a former proposal for marrying his onlydaughter to the favourite's eldest brother, Sir John Villiers. Coke hadformerly refused this match from the high demands of these _parvenus_. Coke, in prosperity, "sticking at ten thousand a year, and resolving togive only ten thousand marks, dropped some idle words, that he would notbuy the king's favour too dear;" but now in his adversity, his ambitionproved stronger than his avarice, and by this stroke of deep policy thewily lawyer was converting a mere domestic transaction into an affair ofstate, which it soon became. As such it was evidently perceived byBacon; he was alarmed at this projected alliance, in which he foresawthat he should lose his hold of the favourite in the inevitable riseonce more of his rival Coke. Bacon, the illustrious philosopher, whoseeye was only blest in observing nature, and whose mind was only great inrecording his own meditations, now sat down to contrive the most subtlesuggestions he could put together to prevent this match; but Lord Baconnot only failed in persuading the king to refuse what his majesty muchwished, but finally produced the very mischief he sought to avert--arupture with Buckingham himself, and a copious scolding letter from theking, but a very admirable one;[344] and where the lord-keeper trembledto find himself called "Mr. Bacon. "

There were, however, other personages than his majesty and his favouritemore deeply concerned in this business, and who had not hitherto beenonce consulted--the mother and the daughter! Coke, who, in every-dayconcerns, issued his commands as he would his law-writs, and at timesboldly asserted the rights of the subject, had no other paternal notionof the duties of a wife and a child than their obedience!

Lady Hatton, haughty to insolence, had been often forbidden both thecourts of their majesties, where Lady Compton, the mother of Buckingham, was the object of her ladyship's persevering contempt. She retained herpersonal influence by the numerous estates which she enjoyed in right ofher former husband. When Coke fell into disgrace, his lady abandonedhim! and, to avoid her husband, frequently moved her residences in townand country. I trace her with malicious activity disfurnishing his housein Holborn, and at Stoke[345] seizing on all the plate and moveables, and, in fact, leaving the fallen statesman and the late lordchief-justice empty houses and no comforter! The wars between LadyHatton and her husband were carried on before the council-board, whereher ladyship appeared, accompanied by an imposing train of noblefriends. With her accustomed haughty airs, and in an imperial style, Lady Hatton declaimed against her tyrannical husband, so that theletter-writer adds, "divers said that Burbage could not have actedbetter. " Burbage's famous character was that of Richard the Third. It isextraordinary that Coke, able to defend any cause, bore himself sosimply. It is supposed that he had laid his domestic concerns too opento animadversion in the neglect of his daughter; or that he was awarethat he was standing before no friendly bar, at that moment being out offavour; whatever was the cause, our noble virago obtained a signaltriumph, and "the oracle of law, " with all his gravity, stood before thecouncil-table hen-pecked. In June, 1616, Sir Edward appears to haveyielded at discretion to his lady, for in an unpublished letter I findthat "his curst heart hath been forced to yield to more than he evermeant; but upon this agreement he flatters himself that she will prove avery good wife. "

In the following year, 1617, these domestic affairs totally changed. Thepolitical marriage of his daughter with Villiers being now resolved on, the business was to clip the wings of so fierce a bird as Coke hadfound in Lady Hatton, which led to an extraordinary contest. The motherand daughter hated the upstart Villiers, and Sir John, indeed, promisedto be but a sickly bridegroom. They had contrived to make up a writtencontract of marriage with Lord Oxford, which they opposed against theproposal, or rather the order, of Coke. 

The violence to which the towering spirits of the conflicting partiesproceeded is a piece of secret history, of which accident has preservedan able memorial. Coke armed with law, and, what was at least equallypotent, with the king's favour, entered by force the barricadoed housesof his lady, took possession of his daughter, on whom he appears neverto have cast a thought till she became an instrument for his politicalpurposes, confined her from her mother, and at length got the haughtymother herself imprisoned, and brought her to account for all her pastmisdoings. Quick was the change of scene, and the contrast was aswonderful. Coke, who, in the preceding year, to the world's surprise, proved so simple an advocate in his own cause in the presence of hiswife, now, to employ his own words, "got upon his wings again, " and wenton as Lady Hatton, when safely lodged in prison, describes, with "hishigh-handed tyrannical courses, " till the furious lawyer occasioned afit of sickness to the proud crest-fallen lady. "Law! Law! Law!"thundered from the lips of "its oracle;" and Lord Bacon, in hisapologetical letter to the king for having opposed his "riot orviolence, " says, "I disliked it the more, because he justified it to belaw, which was his old song. "

The memorial alluded to appears to have been confidentially composed bythe legal friend of Lady Hatton, to furnish her ladyship with answerswhen brought before the council-table. It opens several domestic scenesin the house of that great lord chief-justice; but the forciblesimplicity of the style in domestic details will show, what I have oftenobserved, that our language has not advanced in expression since the ageof James the First. I have transcribed it from the original, and itsinterest must plead for its length. 

 TO LADY HATTON. 

 "MADAM, _10th July, 1617_. 

"Seeing these people speak no language but thunder and lightning, accounting this their cheapest and best way to work upon you, I wouldwith patience prepare myself to their extremities, and study to defendthe breaches by which to their advantage they suppose to come in uponme, and henceforth quit the ways of pacification and composition, heretofore and unseasonably endeavoured, which, in my opinion, lie mostopen to trouble, scandal, and danger; wherefore I will briefly set downtheir objections, and such answers to them as I conceive proper. 

"The first is, you conveyed away your daughter from her father. Answer. I had cause to provide for her quiet. Secretary Winwood threatening thatshe should be married from me in spite of my teeth, and Sir Edward Cookdayly tormenting the girl with discourses tending to bestow her againsther liking, which he said she was to submit to his; besides, my daughterdaily complained, and sought to me for help; whereupon, as heretofore Ihad accustomed, I bestowed her apart at my cousin-german's house for afew days, for her health and quiet, till my own business for my estatewere ended. Sir Edward Coke _never asked me where she was, no more thanat other times, when at my placing she had been a quarter of a year fromhim, as the year before with my sister Burley_. 

"Second. That you endeavoured to bestow her, and to bind her to my Lordof Oxford without her knowledge and consent. 

"Upon this subject a lawyer, by way of invective, may open his mouthwide, and anticipate every hearer's judgment by the rights of a father;this, dangerous in the precedent to others; to which, nevertheless, thisanswer may be justly returned. 

"Answer. My daughter, as aforesaid, terrified with her father's threatsand hard usage, and pressing me to find some remedy from this violenceintended, I did compassionate her condition, and bethought myself ofthis contract to my Lord of Oxford, if so she liked, and thereupon Igave it to her to peruse and consider by herself, which she did; sheliked it, cheerfully writ it out with her own hand, subscribed it, andreturned it to me; wherein I did nothing of my own will, but followedhers, after I saw she was so averse to Sir Thomas Villiers, that shevoluntarily and deliberately protested that _of all men living she wouldnever have him, nor could ever fancy him for a husband_. 

"Secondly. By this I put her under no new way, nor into any other thanher father had heretofore known and approved; for he saw such lettersas my Lady of Oxford had writ to me thereabouts; he never forbad it; henever disliked it; only he said they were then too young, and there wastime enough for the treaty. 

"Thirdly. He always left his daughter to my disposing and my bringingup; knowing that I purposed her my fortune and whole estate, and as uponthese reasons he left her to my cares, so _he eased himself absolutelyof her, never meddling with her, neglecting her, and caring nothing forher_. 

"The Third. That you counterfeited a treaty from my Lord of Oxford toyourself. 

"Answer. I know it not counterfeit; but be it so, to whose injury? If tomy Lord of Oxford's (for no man else is therein interested), it must beeither in honour or in free-hold. Read the treaty; it proves neither!for it is only a complement; it is no engagement presently nor futurely;besides the law shows what forgery is; and to counterfeit a privateman's hand, nay a magistrate's, makes not the fault but the cause:wherefore, "Secondly, the end justifies--at the least, excuses the fact; for it wasonly _to hold up my daughter's mind to her own choice and liking:_ forher eyes only, and for no other's, that she might see some retribution, and thereby with the more constancy endure her imprisonment, having thisonly antidote to resist the poison of that place, company, andconversation; myself and all her friends barred from her, and no personor speech admitted to her ear, but such as spoke Sir Thomas Villiers'slanguage. 

"The fourth. That you plotted to surprise your daughter to take her awayby force, to the breach, of the king's peace and particular commandment, and for that purpose had assembled a number of desperate fellows, whereof the consequence might have been dangerous; and the affront tothe king was the greater that such a thing was offered, the king beingforth of the kingdom, which, by example, might have drawn on otherassemblies to more dangerous attempts. This field is large for aplentiful babbler. 

"Answer. I know no such matter, neither in any place was there suchassembly; true it is I spoke to Turner to provide me some tall fellowsfor the taking a possession for me, in Lincolnshire, of some lands SirWilliam Mason had lately dis-seised me; but be it they were assembledand convoked to such an end, what was done? was any such thingattempted? were they upon the place? kept they the heath or thehighways by ambuscades? or was any place, any day, appointed for arendezvous? No, no such matter; but something was intended: and I prayyou what says the law of such a single intention, which is not withinthe view or notice of the law? Beside, who intended this--the mother?and wherefore? because she _was unnaturally and barbarously secludedfrom her daughter, and her daughter forced against her will, contrary toher vow and liking_, to the will of him she disliked; nay, the laws ofGod, of nature, of man, speak for me, and cry out upon them. But theyhad a warrant from the king's order from the commissioners to keep mydaughter in their custody; yet neither this warrant nor thecommissioners' did prohibit the mother coming to her, but contrarilyallowed her; then by the same authority might she get to her daughter, that Sir Edward Cook had used to keep her from her daughter; the husbandhaving no power, warrant, or permission from God, the king, or the law, to _sequester the mother from her own child, she only endeavouring thechild's good, with the child's liking, and to her preferment; and he, his private end against the child's liking, without care of herpreferment; which differing respects, as they justify the mother in all, so condemn they the father as a transgressor of the rules of nature, and, as a perverter of his rights, as a father and a husband, to thehurt both of child and wife_. 

"Lastly, if recrimination could lessen the fault, take this in the worstsense, and naked of all the considerable circumstances it hath, what isthis, nay, what had the executing of this intention been comparativelywith _Sir Edward Cook's most notorious riot, committed at my Lord ofArguyl's house, when, without constable or warrant, associated with adozen fellows well weaponed, without cause being beforehand offered, tohave what he would, he took down the doors of the gate-house and of thehouse itself, and tore the daughter in that barbarous manner from themother, and would not suffer the mother to come near her; and when hewas before the lords of the council to answer this outrage, he justifiedit to make it good by law, and that he feared the face of no greatness_;a dangerous word for the encouragement of all notorious and rebelliousmalefactors; especially from him that had been the chief justice of thelaw; and of the people reputed the oracle of the law; and a mostdangerous bravado cast in the teeth and face of the state in the king'sabsence, and therefore most considerable for the maintenance ofauthority and the quiet of the land; for if it be lawful for him with adozen to enter any man's house thus outrageously for any right to whichhe pretends, it is lawful for any man with one hundred, nay, with fivehundred, and consequently with as many as he draw together, to do thesame, which may endanger the safety of the king's person, and the peaceof the kingdom. 

"The fifth, that you having certified the king you had received anengagement from my Lord of Oxford, and the king commanding you, uponyour allegiance, to come and bring it to him, or to send it him; or nothaving it, to signify his name who brought it, and where he was; yourefused all, by which you doubled and trebled a high contempt to hismajesty. 

"Answer. I was so sick on the week before, for the most part I kept mybed, and even that instant I was so weak as I was not able to rise fromit without help, nor to endure the air; which indisposition and weaknessmy two physicians, Sir William Paddy and Dr. Atkins, can affirm true;which so being, I hope his majesty will graciously excuse the necessity, and not impose a fault, whereof I am not guilty; and for the sending it, I protest to God I had it not; and for telling the parties, and where heis, I most humbly beseech his sacred majesty, in his great wisdom andhonour, to consider how unworthy a part it were in me to bring any maninto trouble, from which I am so far from redeeming him as I can no wayrelieve myself, and therefore humbly crave his majesty, in his princelyconsideration of my distressed condition, to forgive me thisreservedness, proceeding from that just sense, and the rather, for thatthe law of the land in civil causes, as I am informed, no way tieth methereunto. "

Among the other papers it appears that Coke accused his lady of having"embezzled all his gilt and silver plate and vessell (he having littlein any house of mine, but that his marriage with me brought him), andinstead thereof foisted in _alkumy_[346] of the same sorte, fashion, anduse, with the illusion to have cheated him of the other. " Coke insistson the inventory by the schedule! Her ladyship says, "I made such platefor matter and form for my own use at Purbeck, that serving well enoughin the country; and I was loth to trust such a substance in a place soremote, and in the guard of few; but for the plate and vessell he saithis wanting, they are every ounce within one of my three houses. " Shecomplains that Sir Edward Coke and his son Clement had threatened herservants so grievously, that the poor men run away to hide themselvesfrom his fury, and dare not appear abroad. "Sir Edward broke into HattonHouse, seased upon my coach and coach-horses, nay, my apparel, which hedetains; thrust all my servants out of doors without wages; sent downhis men to Corfe to inventory, seize, ship, and carry away all thegoods, which being refused him by the castle-keeper, he threats to bringyour lordship's warrant for the performance thereof. But your lordshipestablished that he should have the use only of the goods during hislife, in such houses as the same appertained, without meaning, I hope, of depriving me of such use, being goods brought at my marriage, orbought with the money I spared from my allowances. Stop, then, his hightyrannical courses; for I have suffered beyond the measure of any wife, mother, nay, of any ordinary woman in this kingdom, without respect tomy father, my birth, my fortunes, with _which I have so highly-raisedhim_. "

What availed the vexation of this sick, mortified, and proud woman, orthe more tender feelings of the daughter, in this forced marriage tosatisfy the political ambition of the father? When Lord Bacon wrote tothe king respecting the strange behaviour of Coke, the king vindicatedit, for the purpose of obtaining his daughter, blaming Lord Bacon forsome expressions he had used; and Bacon, with the servility of thecourtier, when he found the wind in his teeth, tacked round, andpromised Buckingham to promote the match he so much abhorred. [347]Villiers was married to the daughter of Coke at Hampton Court, onMichaelmas Day, 1617--Coke was re-admitted to the council-table--LadyHatton was reconciled to Lady Compton and the queen, and gave a grandentertainment on the occasion, to which, however, "the good man of thehouse was neither invited nor spoken of: he dined that day at theTemple; she is still bent to pull down her husband, " adds my informant. The moral close remains to be told. Lady Villiers looked on her husbandas the hateful object of a forced union, and nearly drove him mad; whileshe disgraced herself by such loose conduct as to be condemned to standin a white sheet, and I believe at length obtained a divorce. Thus amarriage, projected by ambition, and prosecuted by violent means, closed with that utter misery to the parties with which it hadcommenced; and for our present purpose has served to show, that when alawyer like Coke holds his "high-handed tyrannical courses, " the law ofnature, as well as the law of which he is "the oracle, " will be alikeviolated under his roof. Wife and daughter were plaintiffs or defendantson whom this lord chief-justice closed his ear: he had blocked up theavenues to his heart with "Law! Law! Law!" his "old song!"

Beyond his eightieth year, in the last parliament of Charles the First, the extraordinary vigour of Coke's intellect flamed clear under thesnows of age. No reconciliation ever took place between the parties. Ona strong report of his death, her ladyship, accompanied by her brother, Lord Wimbledon, posted down to Stoke-Pogis to take possession of hismansion; but beyond Colebrook they met with one of his physicians comingfrom him with the mortifying intelligence of Sir Edward's amendment, onwhich they returned at their leisure. This happened in June, 1634, andon the following September the venerable sage was no more!

OF COKE'S STYLE, AND HIS CONDUCT. 

This great lawyer, perhaps, set the example of that style of railing andinvective in the courts, which the egotism and craven insolence of someof our lawyers include in their practice at the bar. It may be useful tobring to recollection Coke's vituperative style in the followingdialogue, so beautiful in its contrast with that of the great victimbefore him! The attorney-general had not sufficient evidence to bringthe obscure conspiracy home to Rawleigh, with which, I believe, however, he had cautiously tampered. But Coke well knew that James the First hadreason to dislike the hero of his age, who was early engaged against theScottish interests, and betrayed by the ambidexterous policy of Cecil. Coke struck at Rawleigh as a sacrifice to his own political ambition, aswe have seen he afterwards immolated his daughter; but his personalhatred was now sharpened by the fine genius and elegant literature ofthe man; faculties and acquisitions the lawyer so heartily contemned!Coke had observed, "I know with whom I deal; for we have to deal to-daywith a MAN OF WIT. "

COKE. Thou art the most vile and execrable traytor that ever lived. 

RAWLEIGH. You speak indiscreetly, barbarously, and uncivilly. 

COKE. I want words sufficient to express thy viperous treason. 

RAWLEIGH. I think you want words indeed, for you have spoken one thinghalf-a-dozen times. 

COKE. Thou art an odious fellow; thy name is hateful to all the realm ofEngland for thy pride. 

RAWLEIGH. It will go near to prove a measuring cast between you and me, Mr. Attorney. 

COKE. Well, I will now make it appear to the world that there neverlived a viler viper upon the face of the earth than thou. Thou art amonster; thou hast an English face, but a Spanish heart. Thou viper! forI _thou_ thee, thou traitor! Have I angered you?

Rawleigh replied, what his dauntless conduct proved--"I am in no case tobe angry. "[348]

Coke had used the same style with the unhappy favourite of Elizabeth, the Earl of Essex. It was usual with him; the bitterness was in his ownheart as much as in his words; and Lord Bacon has left among hismemorandums one entitled, "Of the abuse I received of Mr. Attorney-General publicly in the Exchequer. " A specimen will completeour model of his forensic oratory. Coke exclaimed--"Mr. Bacon, if youhave any tooth against me, pluck it out; for it will do you more hurtthan all the teeth in your head will do you good. " Bacon replied--"Theless you speak of your own greatness, the more I will think of it. " Cokereplied--"I think scorn to stand upon terms of greatness towards you, who are less than little, less than the least. " Coke was exhibited onthe stage for his ill usage of Rawleigh, as was suggested by Theobald ina note on _Twelfth Night_. This style of railing was long the privilegeof the lawyers; it was revived by Judge Jeffreys; but the bench ofjudges in the reign of William and Anne taught a due respect even tocriminals, who were not supposed to be guilty till they were convicted. 

When Coke once was himself in disgrace, his high spirit sunk, without aparticle of magnanimity to dignify the fall; his big words, and his"tyrannical courses, " when he could no longer exult that "he was uponhis wings again, " sunk with him as he presented himself on his knees tothe council-table. Among other assumptions, he had styled himself "LordChief-Justice of England, " when it was declared that this title was hisown invention, since he was no more than of the King's Bench. Hisdisgrace was a thunderbolt, which overthrew the haughty lawyer to theroots. When the _supersedeas_ was carried to him by Sir George Coppin, that gentleman was surprised, on presenting it, to see that lofty"spirit shrunk into a very narrow room, for Coke received it withdejection and tears. " The writer from whose letter I have copied thesewords adds, _O tremor et suspiria non cadunt in fortem et constantem. _The same writer incloses a punning distich: the name of our lordchief-justice was in his day very provocative of the pun, both in Latinand English; Cicero, indeed, had pre-occupied the miserable trifle. 

 _Jus condire Cocus potuit; sed condere jura Non potuit; potuit condere jura Cocus. _

Six years afterwards, Coke was sent to the Tower, and then they punnedagainst him in English. An unpublished letter of the day has thiscurious anecdote:--The room in which he was lodged in the Tower hadformerly been a kitchen; on his entrance, the lord chief-justice readupon the door, "This room wants a Cook!" They twitched the lion in thetoils which held him. Shenstone had some reason in thanking Heaven thathis name was not susceptible of a pun. This time, however, Coke was "onhis wings;" for when Lord Arundel was sent by the king to the prisoner, to inform him that he would be allowed "Eight of the best learned in thelaw to advise him for his cause, " our great lawyer thanked the king, "but he knew himself to be accounted to have as much skill in the law asany man in England, and therefore needed no such help, nor feared to bejudged by the law. "

SECRET HISTORY OF AUTHORS WHO HAVE RUINED THEIR BOOKSELLERS. 

Aulus Gellius desired to live no longer than he was able to exercise thefaculty of writing; he might have decently added--and of findingreaders! This would be a fatal wish for that writer who should spreadthe infection of weariness, without himself partaking of the epidemia. The mere act and habit of writing, without probably even a remote viewof publication, has produced an agreeable delirium; and perhaps somehave escaped from a gentle confinement by having cautiously concealedthose voluminous reveries which remained to startle their heirs; whileothers again have left a whole library of manuscripts, out of the mereardour of transcription, collecting and copying with peculiar rapture. Idiscovered that one of these inscribed this distich on his manuscriptcollection:

 Plura voluminibus jungenda volumina nostris, Nec mihi scribendi terminus ullus erit:

which, not to compose better verses than our original, may betranslated, More volumes with our volumes still shall blend; And to our writing there shall be no end!

But even great authors have sometimes so much indulged in the seductionof the pen, that they appear to have found no substitute for the flow oftheir ink, and the delight of stamping blank paper with their hints, sketches, ideas, the shadows of their mind! Petrarch exhibits nosolitary instance of this passion of the pen, "I read and I write nightand day; it is my only consolation. My eyes are heavy with watching, myhand is weary with writing. On the table where I dine, and by the sideof my bed, I have all the materials for writing; and when I awake in thedark, I write, although I am unable to read the next morning what I havewritten. " Petrarch was not always in his perfect senses. 

The copiousness and the multiplicity of the writings of many authorshave shown that too many find a pleasure in the act of composition whichthey do not communicate to others. Great erudition and every-dayapplication is the calamity of that voluminous author, who, without goodsense, and, what is more rare, without that exquisite judgment, which wecall good taste, is always prepared to write on any subject, but at thesame time on no one reasonably. At the early period of printing, two ofthe most eminent printers were ruined by the volumes of one author; wehave their petition to the pope to be saved from bankruptcy. Nicholas deLyra had inveigled them to print his interminable commentary on theBible. Their luckless star prevailed, and their warehouse groaned witheleven hundred ponderous folios, as immovable as the shelves on whichthey for ever reposed! We are astonished at the fertility and the sizeof our own writers of the seventeenth century, when the theological warof words raged, spoiling so many pages and brains. They produced folioafter folio, like almanacs; and Dr. Owen and Baxter wrote more thansixty to seventy volumes, most of them of the most formidable size. Thetruth is, however, that it was then easier to write up to a folio, thanin our days to write down to an octavo; for correction, selection, andrejection were arts as yet unpractised. They went on with their work, sharply or bluntly, like witless mowers, without stopping to whet theirscythes. They were inspired by the scribbling demon of that rabbin, who, in his oriental style and mania of volume, exclaimed that were "theheavens formed of paper, and were the trees of the earth pens, and ifthe entire sea run ink, these only could suffice" for the monstrousgenius he was about to discharge on the world. The Spanish Tostatuswrote three times as many leaves as the number of days he had lived; andof Lope de Vega it is said this calculation came rather short. We hearof another who was unhappy that his lady had produced twins, from thecircumstance that hitherto he had contrived to pair his labours with herown, but that now he was a book behindhand. 

I fix on four celebrated _Scribleri_ to give their secret history; ourPrynne, Gaspar Barthius, the Abbé de Marolles, and the Jesuit TheophilusRaynaud, who will all show that a book might be written on "authorswhose works have ruined their booksellers. "

Prynne seldom dined: every three or four hours he munched a manchet, andrefreshed his exhausted spirits with ale brought to him by his servant;and when "he was put into this road of writing, " as crabbed Anthonytelleth, he fixed on "a long quilted cap, which came an inch over hiseyes, serving as an umbrella to defend them from too much light;" andthen hunger nor thirst did he experience, save that of his voluminouspages. Prynne has written a library amounting, I think, to nearly twohundred books. Our unlucky author, whose life was involved inauthorship, and his happiness, no doubt, in the habitual exuberance ofhis pen, seems to have considered the being debarred from pen, ink, andbooks, during his imprisonment, as an act more barbarous than the lossof his ears. [349] The extraordinary perseverance of Prynne in thisfever of the pen appears in the following title of one of hisextraordinary volumes. "Comfortable Cordials against discomfortableFears of Imprisonment; containing some Latin Verses, Sentences, andTexts of Scripture, _written by Mr. Wm. Prynne, on his Chamber Walls_, in the Tower of London, during his imprisonment there; translated by himinto English Verse, 1641. " Prynne literally verified Pope's description:

 Is there, who locked from ink and paper, scrawls With desperate charcoal round his darkened walls. 

We have also a catalogue of printed books, written by Wm. Prynne, Esq. , of Lincoln's Inn, in these classes, BEFORE } DURING } and } _his imprisonment_. SINCE }

with this motto, "Jucundi acti labores, " 1643. The secret history ofthis voluminous author concludes with a characteristic event: acontemporary who saw Prynne in the pillory at Cheapside, informs us thatwhile he stood there they "burnt his huge volumes under his nose, whichhad almost suffocated him. " Yet such was the spirit of party, that apuritanic sister bequeathed a legacy to purchase all the works of Prynnefor Sion College, where many still repose; for, by an odd fatality, inthe fire which happened in that library these volumes were saved, fromthe idea that folios were the most valuable![350]

The pleasure which authors of this stamp experience is of a naturewhich, whenever certain unlucky circumstances combine, positivelydebarring them from publication, will not abate their ardour one jot;and their pen will still luxuriate in the forbidden page which evenbooksellers refuse to publish. Many instances might be recorded, but avery striking one is the case of Gaspar Barthius, whose "Adversaria, "in two volumes folio, are in the collections of the curious. 

Barthius was born to literature, for Baillet has placed him among his"Enfans Célèbres. " At nine years of age he recited by heart all thecomedies of Terence, without missing a line. The learned admired thepuerile prodigy, while the prodigy was writing books before he had abeard. He became, unquestionably, a student of very extensiveliterature, modern as well as ancient. Such was his devotion to aliterary life, that he retreated from the busy world. It appears thathis early productions were composed more carefully and judiciously thanhis latter ones, when the passion for voluminous writing broke out, which showed itself by the usual prognostic of this dangerousdisease--extreme facility of composition, and a pride and exultation inthis unhappy faculty. He studied without using collections orreferences, trusting to his memory, which was probably an extraordinaryone, though it necessarily led him into many errors in that delicatetask of animadverting on other authors. Writing a very neat hand, hisfirst copy required no transcript; and he boasts that he rarely made acorrection: everything was sent to the press in its first state. Helaughs at Statius, who congratulated himself that he employed only twodays in composing the epithalamium upon Stella, containing two hundredand seventy-eight hexameters. "This, " says Barthius, "did not quite layhim open to Horace's censure of the man who made two hundred verses inan hour, 'stans pede in uno. ' Not, " adds Barthius, "but that I think thecensure of Horace too hyperbolical, for I am not ignorant what it is tomake a great number of verses in a short time, and in three days Itranslated into Latin the three first books of the Iliad, which amountto above two thousand verses. " Thus rapidity and volume were the greatenjoyments of this learned man's pen, and now we must look to thefruits. 

Barthius, on the system he had adopted, seems to have written a wholelibrary; a circumstance which we discover by the continual references hemakes in his printed works to his manuscript productions. In the _IndexAuthorum_ to his Statius, he inserts his own name, to which is appendeda long list of unprinted works, which Bayle thinks, by their titles andextracts, conveys a very advantageous notion of them. All these, andmany such as these, he generously offered the world, would anybookseller be intrepid or courteous enough to usher them from his press;but their cowardice or incivility was intractable. The truth is now tobe revealed, and seems not to have been known to Bayle; the booksellershad been formerly so cajoled and complimented by our learned author, andhad heard so much of the celebrated Barthius, that they had caught atthe bait, and that the two folio volumes of the much referred-to"Adversaria" of Barthius had thus been published--but from that day nobookseller ever offered himself to publish again!

The "Adversaria" is a collection of critical notes and quotations fromancient authors, with illustrations of their manners, customs, laws, andceremonies; all these were to be classed into one hundred and eightybooks; sixty of which we possess in two volumes folio, with elevenindexes. The plan is vast, as the rapidity with which it was pursued:Bayle finely characterises it by a single stroke--"Its immensity tireseven the imagination. " But the truth is, this mighty labour turned outto be a complete failure: there was neither order nor judgment in thesemasses of learning; crude, obscure, and contradictory; such as we mightexpect from a man who trusted to his memory, and would not throw awayhis time on any correction. His contradictions are flagrant; but one ofhis friends would apologise for these by telling us that "He wroteeverything which offered itself to his imagination; to-day one thing, to-morrow another, in order that when he should revise it again, thiscontrariety of opinion might induce him to examine the subject moreaccurately. " The notions of the friends of authors are as extravagant asthose of their enemies. Barthius evidently wrote so much, that often heforgot what he had written, as happened to another great book-man, oneDidymus, of whom Quintilian records, that on hearing a certain history, he treated it as utterly unworthy of credit; on which the teller calledfor one of Didymus's own books, and showed where he might read it atfull length! That the work failed, we have the evidence of Clement inhis "Bibliothèque curieuse de Livres difficiles à trouver, " under thearticle _Barthius_, where we discover the winding up of the history ofthis book. Clement mentions more than one edition of the Adversaria; buton a more careful inspection he detected that the old title-pages hadbeen removed for others of a fresher date; the booksellers not beingable to sell the book practised this deception. It availed little; theyremained with their unsold edition of the two first volumes of theAdversaria, and the author with three thousand folio sheets inmanuscript--while both parties complained together, and their heirscould acquire nothing from the works of an author, of whom Bayle saysthat "his writings rise to such a prodigious bulk, that one can scarceconceive a single man could be capable of executing so great a variety;perhaps no copying clerk, who lived to grow old amidst the dust of anoffice, ever transcribed as much as this author has written. " This wasthe memorable fate of one of that race of writers who imagine that theircapacity extends with their volume. Their land seems covered withfertility, but in shaking their wheat no ears fall. 

Another memorable brother of this family of the Scribleri is the Abbé deMarolles, who with great ardour as a man of letters, and in theenjoyment of the leisure and opulence so necessary to carry on hispursuits, from an entire absence of judgment, closed his life with thebitter regrets of a voluminous author; and yet it cannot be denied thathe has contributed one precious volume to the public stock ofliterature; a compliment which cannot be paid to some who have enjoyed ahigher reputation than our author. He has left us his very curious"Memoirs. " A poor writer indeed, but the frankness and intrepidity ofhis character enable him, while he is painting himself, to paint man. Gibbon was struck by the honesty of his pen, for he says in his life, "The dulness of Michael de Marolles and Anthony Wood[351] acquires somevalue from the faithful representation of men and manners. "

I have elsewhere shortly noticed the Abbé de Marolles in the characterof "a literary sinner;" but the extent of his sins never struck me soforcibly as when I observed his delinquencies counted up inchronological order in Niceron's "Hommes Illustres. " It is extremelyamusing to detect the swarming fecundity of his pen; from year to year, with author after author, was this translator wearying others, butremained himself unwearied. Sometimes two or three classical victims ina season were dragged into his slaughter-house. Of about seventy works, fifty were versions of the classical writers of antiquity, accompaniedwith notes. But some odd circumstances happened to our extraordinarytranslator in the course of his life. De l'Etang, a critic of that day, in his "Règles de bien traduire, " drew all his examples of badtranslation from our abbé, who was more angry than usual, and among hiscircle the cries of our Marsyas resounded. De l'Etang, who had done thisnot out of malice, but from urgent necessity to illustrate hisprinciples, seemed very sorry, and was desirous of appeasing the angriedtranslator. One day in Easter, finding the abbé in church at prayers, the critic fell on his knees by the side of the translator: it was anextraordinary moment, and a singular situation to terminate a literaryquarrel. "You are angry with me, " said De l'Etang, "and I think you havereason; but this is a season of mercy, and I now ask your pardon. "--"Inthe manner, " replied the abbé, "which you have chosen, I can no longerdefend myself. Go, sir! I pardon you. " Some days after, the abbé againmeeting De l'Etang, reproached him with duping him out of a pardon, which he had no desire to have bestowed on him. The last reply of thecritic was caustic: "Do not be so difficult; when one stands in need ofa general pardon, one ought surely to grant a particular one. " DeMarolles was subject to encounter critics who were never so kind as tokneel by him on an Easter Sunday. Besides these fifty translations, ofwhich the notes are often curious, and even the sense may be useful toconsult, his love of writing produced many odd works. His volumes wererichly bound, and freely distributed, but they found no readers! In a"Discours pour servir de Préface sur les Poëtes, traduits par Michel deMarolles, " he has given an imposing list of "illustrious persons andcontemporary authors who were his friends, " and has preserved manysingular facts concerning them. He was indeed for so long a timeconvinced that he had struck off the true spirit of his fine originals, that I find he at several times printed some critical treatise to backhis last, or usher in his new version; giving the world reasons why theversions which had been given of that particular author, "soit en prose, soit en vers, ont été si pen approuvées jusqu'ici. " Among these numeroustranslations he was the first who ventured on the Deipnosophists ofAthenæus, which still bears an excessive price. He entitles his work, "Les quinze Livres de Deipnosophists d'Athenée, Ouvrage delicieux, agréablement diversifié et rempli de Narrations, sçavantes sur toutesSortes de Matières et de Sujets. " He has prefixed various preliminarydissertations; yet, not satisfied with having performed this greatlabour, it was followed by a small quarto of forty pages, which mightnow be considered curious; "Analyse, en Déscription succincte des Chosesconténues dans les quinzes Livres de Deipnosophistes. " He wrote, "Quatrains sur les Personnes de la Cour et les Gens de Lettres, " whichthe curious would now be glad to find. After having plundered theclassical geniuses of antiquity by his barbarous style, when he hadnothing more left to do, he committed sacrilege in translating theBible; but, in the midst of printing, he was suddenly stopped byauthority, for having inserted in his notes the reveries of thePre-Adamite Isaac Peyrère. He had already revelled on the New Testament, to his version of which he had prefixed so sensible an introduction, that it was afterwards translated into Latin. Translation was the maniaof the Abbé de Marolles. I doubt whether he ever fairly awoke out of theheavy dream of the felicity of his translations; for late in life I findhim observing, "I have employed much time in study, and I havetranslated many books; considering this rather as an innocent amusementwhich I have chosen for my private life, than as things very necessary, although they are not entirely useless. Some have valued them, andothers have cared little about them; but however it may be, I seenothing which _obliges me to believe that they contain not at least asmuch good as bad_, both for their own matter and the form which I havegiven to them. " The notion he entertained of his translations was theircloseness; he was not aware of his own spiritless style; and he imaginedthat poetry only consisted in the thoughts, not in grace and harmony ofverse. He insisted that by giving the public his numerous translations, he was not vainly multiplying books, because he neither diminished norincreased their ideas in his faithful versions. He had a curious notionthat some were more scrupulous than they ought to be respectingtranslations of authors who, living so many ages past, are rarely readfrom the difficulty of understanding them; and why should they imaginethat a translation is injurious to them, or would occasion the utterneglect of the originals? "We do not think so highly of our own works, "says the indefatigable and modest abbé; "but neither do I despair thatthey may he useful even to these scrupulous persons. I will not suppressthe truth, while I am noticing these ungrateful labours; if they havegiven me much pain by my assiduity, they have repaid me by the finethings they have taught me, and by the opinion which I have conceivedthat posterity, more just than the present times, will award a morefavourable judgment. " Thus a miserable translator terminates his longlabours, by drawing his bill of fame on posterity, which hiscontemporaries will not pay; but in these cases, as the bill iscertainly lost before it reaches acceptance, why should we deprive thedrawers of pleasing themselves with the ideal capital?

Let us not, however, imagine that the Abbé de Marolles was nothing butthe man he appears in the character of a voluminous translator; thoughoccupied all his life on these miserable labours, he was evidently aningenious and nobly-minded man, whose days were consecrated to literarypursuits, and who was among the primitive collectors in Europe of fineand curious prints. One of his works is a "Catalogue des Livresd'Estampes et de Figures en Taille-douce. " Paris, 1666, in 8vo. In thepreface our author declares, that he had collected one hundred andtwenty-three thousand four hundred prints, of six thousand masters, infour hundred large volumes, and one hundred and twenty small ones. Thismagnificent collection, formed by so much care and skill, he presentedto the king; whether gratuitously given or otherwise, it was anacquisition which a monarch might have thankfully accepted. Such was thehabitual ardour of our author, that afterwards he set about forminganother collection, of which he has also given a catalogue in 1672, in12mo. Both these catalogues of prints are of extreme rarity, and are yetso highly valued by the connoisseurs, that when in France I could neverobtain a copy. A long life may be passed without even a sight of the"Catalogue des Livres d'Estampes" of the Abbé de Marolles. [352]

Such are the lessons drawn from this secret history of voluminouswriters. We see one venting his mania in scrawling on his prison walls;another persisting in writing folios, while the booksellers, who wereonce caught, like Reynard who had lost his tail, and whom no arts couldany longer practise on, turn away from the new trap; and a third, whocan acquire no readers but by giving his books away, growing grey inscourging the sacred genius of antiquity by his meagre versions, anddying without having made up his mind, whether he were as woful atranslator as some of his contemporaries had assured him. 

Among these worthies of the Scribleri we may rank the Jesuit, TheophilusRaynaud, once a celebrated name, eulogised by Bayle and Patin. Hiscollected works fill twenty folios; an edition, indeed, which finallysent the bookseller to the poor-house. This enterprising bibliopolisthad heard much of the prodigious erudition of the writer; but he had notthe sagacity to discover that other literary qualities were alsorequired to make twenty folios at all saleable. Of these "Opera omnia"perhaps not a single copy can be found in England; but they may be apennyworth on the continent. Raynaud's works are theological; but asystem of grace maintained by one work and pulled down by another, hasceased to interest mankind: the literature of the divine is of a lessperishable nature. Beading and writing through a life of eighty years, and giving only a quarter of an hour to his dinner, with a vigorousmemory, and a whimsical taste for some singular subjects, he could notfail to accumulate a mass of knowledge which may still be useful for thecurious; and besides, Raynaud had the Ritsonian characteristic. He wasone of those who, exemplary in their own conduct, with a bitter zealcondemn whatever does not agree with their own notions; and, howevergentle in their nature, yet will set no limits to the ferocity of theirpen. Raynaud was often in trouble with the censors of his books, andmuch more with his adversaries; so that he frequently had recourse topublishing under a fictitious name. A remarkable evidence of this is theentire twentieth volume of his works. It consists of the numerouswritings published anonymously, or to which were prefixed _noms deguerre_. This volume is described by the whimsical title of_Apopompæus_; explained to us as the name given by the Jews to thescape-goat, which, when loaded with all their maledictions on its head, was driven away into the desert. These contain all Raynaud's numerous_diatribes_; for whenever he was refuted, he was always refuting; he didnot spare his best friends. The title of a work against Arnauld willshow how he treated his adversaries. "Arnauldus redivivus natus Brixiæseculo xii. Renatus in Galliæ ætate nostra. " He dexterously applies thename of Arnauld by comparing him with one of the same name in thetwelfth century, a scholar of Abelard's, and a turbulent enthusiast, saythe Romish writers, who was burnt alive for having written against theluxury and the power of the priesthood, and for having raised arebellion against the pope. When the learned De Launoi had successfullyattacked the legends of saints, and was called the _Denicheur deSaints_, --the "Unnicher of Saints, " every parish priest trembled for hisfavourite. Raynaud entitled a libel on this new iconoclast, "HerculesCommodianus Joannes Launoius repulsus, " &c. ; he compares Launoi to theEmperor Commodus, who, though the most cowardly of men, conceivedhimself formidable when he dressed himself as Hercules. Another of thesemaledictions is a tract against Calvinism, described as a "religiobestiarum, " a religion of beasts, because the Calvinists deny free will;but as he always fired with a double-barrelled gun, under the cloak ofattacking Calvinism, he aimed a deadly shot at the Thomists, andparticularly at a Dominican friar, whom he considered as bad as Calvin. Raynaud exults that he had driven one of his adversaries to take flightinto Scotland, _ad pultes Scoticas transgressus_--to a Scotch pottage;an expression which Saint Jerome used in speaking of Pelagius. He alwaysrendered an adversary odious by coupling him with some odious name. Onone of these controversial books where Casalas refuted Raynaud, Monnoyewrote, "Raynaudus et Casalas inepti; Raynaudo tamen Casalas ineptior. "The usual termination of what then passed for sense, and now is thereverse!

I will not quit Raynaud without pointing out some of his more remarkabletreatises, as so many curiosities of literature. 

In a treatise on the attributes of Christ, he entitles a chapter, _Christus, bonus, bona, bonum_: in another on the seven-branchedcandlestick in the Jewish temple, by an allegorical interpretation, heexplains the eucharist; and adds an alphabetical list of names andepithets which have been given to this mystery. 

The seventh volume bears the title of _Mariolia_: all the treatiseshave for their theme the perfections and the worship of the Virgin. Manyextraordinary things are here. One is a dictionary of names given to theVirgin, with observations on these names. Another on the devotion of thescapulary, and its wonderful effects, written against De Launoi, and forwhich the order of the Carmes, when he died, bestowed a solemn serviceand obsequies on him. Another of these "Mariolia" is mentioned byGallois in the Journal des Sçavans, 1667, as a proof of his fertility;having to preach on the seven solemn anthems which the Church singsbefore Christmas, and which begin by an O! he made this _letter only_the subject of his sermons, and barren as the letter appears, he hasstruck out "a multitude of beautiful particulars. " This literary follyinvites our curiosity. 

In the eighth volume is a table of saints, classed by their station, condition, employment, and trades: a list of titles and prerogatives, which the councils and the fathers have attributed to the sovereignpontiff. 

The thirteenth volume has a subject which seems much in the taste of thesermons on the letter O! it is entitled _Laus Brevitatis!_ in praise ofbrevity. The maxims are brief, but the commentary long. One of the_natural_ subjects treated on is that of _Noses_: he reviews a greatnumber of noses, and, as usual, does not forget the Holy Virgin's. According to Raynaud, the nose of the Virgin Mary was long and aquiline, the mark of goodness and dignity; and as Jesus perfectly resembled hismother, he infers that he must have had such a nose. 

A treatise entitled _Heteroclita spiritualia et anomala PietatisCælestium, Terrestrium, et Infernorum_, contains many singular practicesintroduced into devotion, which superstition, ignorance, and remissness, have made a part of religion. 

A treatise directed against the new custom of hiring chairs in churches, and being seated during the sacrifice of the mass. Another on theCæsarean operation, which he stigmatises as an act against nature. Another on eunuchs. Another entitled _Hipparchus de ReligiosoNegotiatore_, is an attack on those of his own company; the monk turnedmerchant; the Jesuits were then accused of commercial traffic with therevenues of their establishment. The rector of a college at Avignon, who thought he was portrayed in this honest work, confined Raynaud inprison for five months. 

The most curious work of Raynaud connected with literature, I possess;it is entitled _Erotemata de malis ac bonis Libris, deque justa autinjusta eorundem confixione. Lugduni_, 1653, 4to, with necessaryindexes. One of his works having been condemned at Rome, he drew upthese inquiries concerning good and bad books, addressed to the grandinquisitor. He divides his treatise into "bad and nocent books; badbooks but not nocent; books not bad, but nocent; books neither bad nornocent. " His immense reading appears here to advantage, and hisRitsonian feature is prominent; for he asserts, that when writingagainst heretics all mordacity is innoxious; and an alphabetical list ofabusive names, which the fathers have given to the heterodox is entitled_Alphabetum bestialitatis Hæretici, ex Patrum Symbolis_. 

After all, Raynaud was a man of vast acquirement, with a great flow ofideas, but tasteless, and void of all judgment. An anecdote may berecorded of him, which puts in a clear light the state of these literarymen. Raynaud was one day pressing hard a reluctant bookseller to publishone of his works, who replied--"Write a book like Father Barri's, and Ishall be glad to print it. " It happened that the work of Barri waspillaged from Raynaud, and was much liked, while the original lay on theshelf. However, this only served to provoke a fresh attack from ourredoubtable hero, who vindicated his rights, and emptied his quiver onhim who had been ploughing with his heifer. 

Such are the writers who, enjoying all the pleasures without the painsof composition, have often apologised for their repeated productions, bydeclaring that they write only for their own amusement; but such privatetheatricals should not be brought on the public stage. One Catherinotall his life was printing a countless number of _feuilles volantes_ inhistory and on antiquities, each consisting of about three or fourleaves in quarto: Lenglet du Fresnoy calls him "grand auteur des petitslivres. " This gentleman liked to live among antiquaries and historians;but with a crooked headpiece, stuck with whims, and hard with knottycombinations, all overloaded with prodigious erudition, he could notease it at a less rate than by an occasional dissertation of three orfour quarto pages. He appears to have published about two hundredpieces of this sort, much sought after by the curious for their rarity:Brunet complains he could never discover a complete collection. ButCatherinot may escape "the pains and penalties" of our voluminouswriters, for De Bure thinks he generously printed them to distributeamong his friends. Such endless writers, provided they do not printthemselves into an alms-house, may be allowed to print themselves out;and we would accept the apology which Monsieur Catherinot has framed forhimself, which I find preserved in _Beyeri Memoriæ Librorum Rariorum_. "I must be allowed my freedom in my studies, for I substitute mywritings for a game at the tennis-court, or a club at the tavern; Inever counted among my honours these _opuscula_ of mine, but merely asharmless amusements. It is my partridge, as with St. John theEvangelist; my cat, as with Pope St. Gregory; my little dog, as with St. Dominick; my lamb, as with St. Francis; my great black mastiff, as withCornelius Agrippa; and my tame hare, as with Justus Lipsius. " I havesince discovered in Niceron that this Catherinot could never get aprinter, and was rather compelled to study economy in his two hundredquartos of four or eight pages: his paper was of inferior quality; andwhen he could not get his dissertations into his prescribed number ofpages, he used to promise the end at another time, which did not alwayshappen. But his greatest anxiety was to publish and spread his works; indespair he adopted an odd expedient. Whenever Monsieur Catherinot cameto Paris, he used to haunt the _quaies_ where books are sold, and whilehe appeared to be looking over them, he adroitly slided one of his owndissertations among these old books. He began this mode of publicationearly, and continued it to his last days. He died with a perfectconviction that he had secured his immortality; and in this manner haddisposed of more than one edition of his unsaleable works. Niceron hasgiven the titles of 118 of his things, which he had looked over. 

END OF VOL. II. 

 * * * * *

BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. 

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: The prince and duke travelled under the assumed names ofJohn and Thomas Smith. King James wrote a poem on this expedition, ofwhich the first and last verses are as follow. A copy is preserved amongthe Rawlinson MSS. , Bodleian Library:--

 "What sudden change hath darked of late The glory of the Arcadian state? The fleecy flocks refuse to feed, The lambs to play, the ewes to breed; The altars smoke, the offerings burn, Till Jack and Tom do safe return. 

 "Kind shepherds that have loved them long, Be not too rash in censuring wrong; Correct your fears, leave off to mourn, The heavens shall favour their return! Commit the care to Royal Pan, Of Jack his son, and Tom his man. "

]

[Footnote 2: In MS. Harl. , 6987, is preserved Buckingham's letter toJames I, describing the first interview. Speaking of the prince, hesays, "Baby Charles is himself so touched at the heart, that heconfesses all he ever yet saw is nothing to her, and swears, that if hewant her, there shall be blows. "]

[Footnote 3: Though Buckingham and Charles were _exigeant_ of jewels forpresents, the king was equally profuse in sending until he had exhaustedhis store. Considerably more than 150, 000_ l. _ worth were consigned toSpain. In a letter from Newmarket, March 17, 1623, preserved in HarleianMS. 6987, he enumerates a large quantity to be presented to the Infanta;and he is equally careful that Prince Charles should be well supplied;"As for thee, my sweet gossip, I send thee a fair table diamond forwearing in thy hat. " The king ingeniously prompts them to present theInfanta with a small looking-glass to hang at her girdle, and to assureher that "by art magic, whensoever she shall be pleased to look in it, she shall see the fairest lady that either her brother's or yourfather's dominions can afford. "]

[Footnote 4: On his first coming to court he was made cup-bearer to theking, then Master of the Horse, then ennobled, made Lord High Admiral, Warden of the Cinque Ports, Constable of Windsor Castle, Ranger of RoyalParks, &c. &c. A list of the public plunderings of himself and family isgiven in Sloane MS. 826, amounting to more than 27, 000 _l. _ per annum inrents of manors, irrespective of 50, 000 _l. _ "paid to the duke by privieseale of free guifts, but alleged to be intended for the navie. " Manypensions and customs were also made over to his use. ]

[Footnote 5: King James delighted in calling the Duke of Buckingham"Steenie, " as has been already instanced in the letter quoted, p. 463, Vol. I. This was not the duke's Christian name, but was invented for himby his royal master, who fancied his features resembled those usuallygiven to St. Stephen, and whose face was usually depicted in accordancewith the description in Acts vi. 15, "as it had been the face of anangel. "]

[Footnote 6: The great exhibition of fireworks at Rome, at the castle ofSt. Angelo, during the festivities of the Holy Week, preserve thecharacter of the displays of fireworks adopted on great occasions in theseventeenth century. An enormous explosion of squibs, crackers, androckets was the _tour de force_ in such celebrations. The volumedescribing the entry of Louis XIII. To Lyons in 1624, contains anengraving of the fireworks constructed on barges in the river on thatoccasion; a blazing crowned sun, surrounded by a wheel of stars, squibs, star-rockets, and water-serpents flying about it, composed the _feud'artifice_. In the volume descriptive of the rejoicings in the samecity on the ratification of peace between France and Spain in 1660, areseveral engravings in which fireworks are shown, but they exhibit nonovelties, being restricted to rockets and pots of fire bursting intocoloured stars. Henry Van Etten's "Mathematical Recreations, " 1633, notes the principal "artificial fireworks" then in use, and givesengravings of several, and instructions to make them. Rockets, fire-balls, stars, golden-rain, serpents, and Catharine wheels are theprincipal noted. "Fierie dragons combatant" running on lines, and filledwith fireworks, were the greatest stretch of invention at this time; andour author says they may be made "to meete one another, having lightsplaced in the concavity of their bodies, which will give great grace tothe action. "]

[Footnote 7: Specimens of most of these modes of writing may be seen atthe British Museum. No. 3478, in the Sloanian library, is a Nabob'sletter, on a piece of bark, about two yards long, and richly ornamentedwith gold. No. 3207 is a book of Mexican hieroglyphics, painted on bark. In the same collection are various species, many from the Malabar coastand the East. The latter writings are chiefly on leaves. There areseveral copies of Bibles written on palm leaves. The ancients, doubtless, wrote on any leaves they found adapted for the purpose. Hence, the _leaf_ of a _book_, alluding to that of a tree, seems to bederived. At the British Museum we have also Babylonian _tiles_, or_broken pots_, which the people used, and made their contracts ofbusiness on; a custom mentioned in the Scriptures. ]

[Footnote 8: This speech was made by Claudius (who was born at Lyons), when censor, A. D. 48, and was of the highest importance to the men ofLyons, inasmuch as it led to the grant of the privileges of Romancitizenship to them. This important inscription was discovered in 1528, on the heights of St. Sebastian above the town. ]

[Footnote 9: The paintings discovered at Pompeii give representations ofthese books and implements. ]

[Footnote 10: The use of the table-book was continued to the reign ofJames I. Or later. Shakspeare frequently alludes to them--

 "And therefore will he wipe his tables clean, And keep no tell-tale to his memory. "

They were in the form of a modern pocket-book, the leaves of asses'skin, or covered with a composition, upon which a silver or leaden stylewould inscribe memoranda capable of erasure. ]

[Footnote 11: A box containing such written rolls is represented in oneof the pictures exhumed at Pompeii. ]

[Footnote 12: See note to Vol. I. P. 5. ]

[Footnote 13: The ink of old manuscripts is generally a thick solidsubstance, and sometimes stands in relief upon the paper. The red ink isgenerally a body-colour of great brilliancy. ]

[Footnote 14: This was, in fact, a realization of the traditionalrepresentations of the Flight into Egypt, in which the Virgin, havingthe Saviour in her lap, is always depicted seated on an ass, which isled by Joseph. ]

[Footnote 15: See Article _Ancient and Modern Saturnalia_, in thisVolume. ]

[Footnote 16: In the romances and poems of the Middle Ages, the heroinesare generally praised for the abundance and beauty of their "yellowhair"--

 Her yellow haire was braided in a tresse Behinde her backe, a yarde longe, I guesse. 

 CHAUCER'S _Knight's Tale_. 

Queen Elizabeth had yellow hair, hence it became the fashion at hercourt, and ladies dyed their hair of the Royal colour. But this dyeingthe hair yellow may be traced to the classic era. Galen tells us that inhis time women suffered much from headaches, contracted by standingbare-headed in the sun to obtain this coveted tint, which othersattempted by the use of saffron. Bulwer, in his "ArtificiallChangeling, " 1653, says--"The Venetian women at this day, and thePaduan, and those of Verona, and other parts of Italy, practice the samevanitie, and receive the same recompense for their affectation, therebeing in all those cities open and manifest examples of those who haveundergone a kind of martyrdome, to render their haire yellow. "]

[Footnote 17: That is, carriages of the modern form, and such as becamecommon toward the end of Elizabeth's reign; but _waggons_ and _chares_, covered with tapestry, and used by ladies for journeys, may be seen inilluminated MSS. Of the fourteenth century. There is a fine example inthe Loutterell Psalter, published in "Vetusta Monumenta. "]

[Footnote 18: The use of censers or firepans to "sweeten" houses byburning coarse perfumes is noted by Shakespeare. His commentator, Steevens, points out a passage in a letter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, who when keeping Mary Queen of Scots under his surveillance, notes "Thather Majesty was to be removed for 5 or 6 dayes to clense her chamber, being kept very unclenly. " That annoyances of a very disagreeable kindwere constantly felt, he instances in a passage from the Memoir of Anne, Countess of Dorset, who relates that a noble party were infested withinsects not now to be named, though named plainly by the lady, and allthis "by sitting in Sir Thomas Erskine's chamber. "]

[Footnote 19: He gives this piece of autobiography in his first sermonpreached before Edward VI. , 1549:--"My father was a yeoman, and had nolands of his own, only he had a farm of three or foure pound by year atthe uttermost, and hereupon he tilled so much as kept half a dozen men. He had a walk for a hundred sheep, and my mother milked thirty kine. Hekept me to school. He married my sisters with five pound, or twentynobles a piece; so that he brought them up in godliness. "]

[Footnote 20: Lower's "English Surnames; an Essay on FamilyNomenclature, " may be profitably studied in connexion with this curioussubject. ]

[Footnote 21: Fortunate names, the _bona nomina_ of Cicero, were chieflyselected in accordance with the classic maxim, _bonum nomen, bonumomen_. ]

[Footnote 22: "Plautus thought it quite enough to damn a man that hebore the name of Lyco, which is said to signify a greedy-wolf; and Livycalls the name Atrius Umber _abominandi ominis nomen_, a name ofhorrible portent. "--Nares' _Heraldic Anomalies_. ]

[Footnote 23: The names adopted by the Romans were very significant. The_Nomen_ was indicative of the branch of the family distinguished by the_Cognomen_; while the _Prenomen_ was invented to distinguish one fromthe rest. Thus, a man of family had three names, and even a fourth wasadded when it was won by great deeds. ]

[Footnote 24: Edgar Poe's account of the regular mode by which hedesigned and executed his best and most renowned poem, "The Raven, " isan instance of the use of methodical rule successfully applied to whatappears to be one of the most fanciful of mental works. ]

[Footnote 25: The old poet is the most fresh and powerful in his words. The passage is thus given in Wright's edition:--

 The busy lark, messenger of day, Saluteth in her song the morrow gray; And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, That all the orient laugheth of the light. 

Leigh Hunt remarks with justice that "Dryden falls short of thefreshness and feeling of the sentiment. His lines are beautiful, butthey do not come home to us with so happy and cordial a face. "]

[Footnote 26: This use of what most persons would consider waste paper, obtained for the poet the designation of "paper-sparing Pope. "]

[Footnote 27: Dr. Johnson, in noticing the MSS. Of Milton, preserved atCambridge, has made, with his usual force of language, the followingobservation: "Such reliques show how excellence is acquired: what wehope ever to do with ease, we may learn first to do with diligence. "]

[Footnote 28: _Silent_ in the MS. (observes a critical friend) isgreatly superior to _secret_, as it appears in the printed work. ]

[Footnote 29: The great feature of the modern stage within the lasttwenty years has been the Classical Burlesque Drama, which, thoughoriginating in the last century in such plays as _Midas_, really reachedits culmination under the auspices of Madame Vestris. ]

[Footnote 30: Motteux, whose translation Lord Woodhouselee distinguishesas the most curious, turns the passage thus: "I wish you well, goodpeople: drive on to act your play, for in my very childhood I loved_shows_, and have been a great admirer of _dramatic representations_. "Part II. C. Xi. The other translators have nearly the same words. But inemploying the generic term they lose the species, that is, the thingitself; but what is less tolerable, in the flatness of the style, theylose that delightfulness with which Cervantes conveys to us therecollected pleasures then busying the warm brain of his hero. AnEnglish reader, who often grows weary over his Quixote, appears notalways sensible that one of the secret charms of Cervantes, like allgreat national authors, lies concealed in his idiom and style. ]

[Footnote 31: The author of the descriptive letter-press to GeorgeCruikshank's illustrations of _Punch_ says he "saw the late Mr. Wyndham, then one of the Secretaries of State, on his way from Downing-street tothe House of Commons, on the night of an important debate, pause like atruant boy until the whole performance was concluded, to enjoy a heartylaugh at the whimsicalities of the 'motley hero. '"]

[Footnote 32: Rich, in his "Companion to the Latin Diction, " has anexcellent illustration of this passage:--"This art was of very greatantiquity, and much practised by the Greeks and Romans, both on thestage and in the tribune, induced by their habit of addressing largeassemblies in the open air, where it would have been impossible for themajority to comprehend what was said without the assistance of someconventional signs, which enabled the speaker to address himself to theeye, as well as the ear of the audience. These were chiefly made bycertain positions of the hands and fingers, the meaning of which wasuniversally recognised and familiar to all classes, and the practiceitself reduced to a regular system, as it remains at the present timeamongst the populace of Naples, who will carry on a long conversationbetween themselves by mere gesticulation, and without pronouncing aword. " That many of these signs are similar to those used by theancients, is proved by the same author, who copies from an antique vasea scene which he explains by the action of the hands of the figures, adding, "A common lazzaroni, when shown one of these compositions, willat once explain the purport of the action, which a scholar with all hislearning cannot divine. " The gesture to signify love, employed by theancients and modern Neapolitans, was joining the tips of the thumb andfore-finger of the left hand; an imputation or asseveration by holdingforth the right hand; a denial by raising the same hand, extending thefingers. In mediæval works of art, a particular attitude of the fingersis adopted to exhibit malicious hate: it is done by crossing thefore-finger of each hand, and is generally seen in figures of Herod orJudas Iscariot. ]

[Footnote 33: Tacitus, Annals, lib. I. Sect. 77, in Murphy'stranslation. ]

[Footnote 34: This measure of "restrictive policy, " which gave to thepatent theatres the sole right of performing the legitimate dramaproperly, led to the construction of plays for the minor theatres, entirely carried on by action, occasionally aided by inscriptionspainted on scrolls, and unrolled and exhibited by the actor when hispower of expressing such words failed. This led to the education of aseries of pantomimists, who taught action conventionally to representwords. At the close of the last century, there were many such; and thereader who may be curious to see the nature of these dumb dramas, may doso in two volumes named "Circusiana, " by J. C. Cross, the author of verymany that were performed at the Royal Circus, in St. George's Fields. The whole action of the drama was performed to music composed expresslyto aid the expression of the performers, among the best of whom wereBologna and D'Egville. It is a class of dramatic art which has nowalmost entirely passed away; or is seen, but in a minor degree, in thepantomimic action of a grand ballet at the opera. ]

[Footnote 35: L'Antiq. Exp. V. 63. ]

[Footnote 36: Louis Riccoboni, in his curious little treatise, "DuThéâtre Italien, " illustrated by seventeen prints of the Italianpantomimic characters, has duly collected the authorities. I give them, in the order quoted above, for the satisfaction of more grave inquirers. Vossius, Instit. Poet, lib. Ii. 32, § 4. The Mimi blackened their faces. Diomedes, de Orat. Lib. Iii. Apuleius, in Apolog. And further, thepatched dress was used by the ancient peasants of Italy, as appears by apassage in Varro, De Re Rust, lib. I. C. 8; and Juvenal employs the term_centunculus_ as a diminutive of _cento_, for a coat made up of patches. This was afterwards applied metaphorically to those well-known poemscalled _centos_, composed of shreds and patches of poetry, collectedfrom all quarters. Goldoni considered Harlequin as a poor devil anddolt, whose coat is made up of rags patched together; his hat showsmendicity; and the hare's tail is still the dress of the peasantry ofBergamo. Quadrio, in his learned _Storia d'ogni Poesia_, has diffusedhis erudition on the ancient _Mimi_ and their successors. Dr. Clarke hasdiscovered the light lath sword of Harlequin, which had hitherto baffledmy most painful researches, amidst the dark mysteries of the ancientmythology! We read with equal astonishment and novelty, that theprototypes of the modern pantomime are in the Pagan mysteries; that_Harlequin_ is _Mercury_, with his short sword called _herpe_, or hisrod the _caduceus_, to render himself invisible, and to transporthimself from one end of the earth to the other; that the covering on hishead was his _petasus_, or winged cap; that _Columbine_ is _Pysche_, orthe _Soul_; the _Old Man_ in our pantomimes is _Charon_; the _Clown_ is_Momus_, the buffoon of heaven, whose large gaping mouth is an imitationof the ancient masks. The subject of an ancient vase engraven in thevolume represents Harlequin, Columbine, and the Clown, as we see them onthe English stage. The dreams of the learned are amusing when we are notput to sleep. Dr. Clarke's Travels, vol. Iv. P. 459. The Italianantiquaries never entertained any doubt of this remote origin. It may, however, be reasonably doubted. The chief appendage of the Vice orbuffoon of the ancient moralities was a _gilt wooden sword_, and thisalso belonged to the old Clown or Fool, not only in England but abroad. "The wooden sword directly connects Harlequin with the ancient Vice andmore modern Fool, " says the author of the letter-press to Cruikshank's_Punch_, apparently with the justest derivation. ]

[Footnote 37: This statue, which is imagined to have thrown so muchlight on the genealogy of Punch, was discovered in 1727, and is engravedin Ficoroni's amusing work on _Maschere sceniche e le figure coniched'antichi Romani_, p. 48. It is that of a Mime called _Maccus_ by theRomans; the name indicates a simpleton. But the origin of the moremodern name has occasioned a little difference, whether it be derivedfrom the _nose_ or its _squeak_. The learned Quadrio would draw the name_Pullicinello_ from _Pulliceno_, which Spartianus uses for _il pullogallinaceo_ (I suppose this to be the turkey-cock) because Punch'shooked nose resembles its _beak_. But Baretti, in that strange book the"Tolondron, " gives a derivation admirably descriptive of the peculiarsqueaking nasal sound. He says, "_Punchinello_, or Punch, as you wellknow, speaks with a squeaking voice that seems to come out at his nose, because the fellow who in a puppet-show manages the puppet calledPunchinello, or Punch, as the English folks abbreviate it, speaks with atin whistle in his mouth, which makes him emit that comical kind ofvoice. But the English word _Punchinello_ is in Italian _Pulcinella_, which means a _hen-chicken_. Chickens' voices are _squeaking_ and_nasal_; and they are _timid_, and _powerless_, and for this reason mywhimsical countrymen have given the name of _Pulcinella_, orhen-chicken, to that comic character, to convey the idea of a man thatspeaks with a squeaking voice through his nose, to express a timid andweak fellow, who is always thrashed by the other actors, and alwaysboasts of victory after they are gone. "--_Tolondron_, p. 324. InItalian, _Policinello_ is a little flea, active and biting and skipping;and his mask puce-colour, the nose imitating in shape the flea'sproboscis. This grotesque etymology was added by Mrs. Thrale. I cannotdecide between "the hen-chicken" of the scholar and "the skipping flea"of the lady, who, however, was herself a scholar. ]

[Footnote 38: How the Latin _Sannio_ became the Italian _Zanni_, was awhirl in the roundabout of etymology, which put Riccoboni very ill athis ease; for he, having discovered this classical origin of hisfavourite character, was alarmed at Menage giving it up with obsequioustameness to a Cruscan correspondent. The learned Quadrio, however, giveshis vote for the Greek _Sannos_, from whence the Latins borrowed their_Sannio_. Riccoboni's derivation, therefore, now stands secure from allverbal disturbers of human quiet. 

_Sanna_ is in Latin, as Ainsworth elaborately explains, "a mocking bygrimaces, mows, a flout, a frump, a gibe, a scoff, a banter;" and_Sannio_ is "a fool in a play. " The Italians change the S into Z, forthey say Zmyrna and Zambuco, for Smyrna and Sambuco; and thus theyturned _Sannio_ into _Zanno_, and then into _Zanni_, and we caught theecho in our _Zany_. ]

[Footnote 39: Riccoboni, Histoire du Théàtre Italien, p. 53; Gimma, Italia Letterata, p. 196. ]

[Footnote 40: There is an earlier and equally whimsical series bearingthe following title--"Mascarades recuillies et mises en taille douce parRobert Boissart, Valentianois, 1597, " consisting of twenty-four platesof Carnival masquers. ]

[Footnote 41: Signorelli, Storia Critica de Teatri, tom. Iii. 263. ]

[Footnote 42: Mem. Of Goldoni, i. 281. ]

[Footnote 43: Mem. Of Goldoni, ii. 284. ]

[Footnote 44: I am here but the translator of a grave historian. TheItalian writes with all the feeling of one aware of the importantnarrative, and with a most curious accuracy in this genealogy ofcharacter: "_Silvio Fiorillo, che appetter si facea il CapitanoMatamoros_, INVENTO _il Pulcinella Napoletano, e collo studio e graziamolto_ AGGIUNSE _Andrea Calcese dello Ciuccio por soprannome_. "--Gimma, Italia Letterata, p. 196. There is a very curious engraving by Bosse, representing the Italian comedians about 1633, as they performed thevarious characters on the Parisian stage. The cracked voice andpeculiarities of this "great invention" are declared by Fiorillo andSignorelli to be imitations of the peculiarities of the peasants ofAcerra, an ancient city in the neighbourhood of Naples. For a curiousdissertation on this popular character, see the volume so admirablyillustrated by Cruikshank, quoted on a previous page. ]

[Footnote 45: John Rich was the patentee of Covent Garden Theatre, andspent large sums over his favourite pantomimes. He was also thefortunate producer of the "Beggar's Opera, " which was facetiously saidto have made Rich _gay_, and Gay _rich_. He took so little interest inwhat is termed the "regular drama, " that he is reported to haveexclaimed, when peeping through the curtain at a full house to witness atragedy--"What, you are _there_, you fools, are you!" He died wealthy, in 1761; and there is a costly tomb to his memory in Hillingdonchurchyard, Middlesex. ]

[Footnote 46: Some of the ancient _Scenarie_ were printed in 1661, byFlaminius Scala, one of their great actors. These, according toRiccoboni, consist of nothing more than the skeletons of Comedies; the_canevas_, as the French technically term a plot and its scenes. Hesays, "They are not so short as those we now use to fix at the back ofthe scenes, nor so full as to furnish any aid to the dialogue: they onlyexplain what the actor did on the stage, and the action which forms thesubject, nothing more. "]

[Footnote 47: The passage in Livy is, "Juventus, histrionibus fabellarumactu relicto, ipsa inter se, more antiquo, ridicula intexta versibusjactitare cæpit. " Lib. Vii. Cap. 2. ]

[Footnote 48: As these _Atellanæ Fabulæ_ were never written, they havenot descended to us in any shape. It has, indeed, been conjectured thatHorace, in the fifth Satire of his first Book, v. 51, has preserved ascene of this nature between two practised buffoons in the "PugnamSarmenti Scurræ, " who challenges his brother Cicerrus, equally ludicrousand scurrilous. But surely these were rather the low humour of theMimes, than of the Atellan Farcers. ]

[Footnote 49: Melmoth's Letters of Cicero, B. Viii. Lett. 20; inGrævius's edition, Lib. Ix. Ep. 16. ]

[Footnote 50: This passage also shows that our own custom of annexing aFarce, or _petite pièce_, or Pantomime, to a tragic Drama, existed amongthe Romans: the introduction of the practice in our country seems not tobe ascertained; and it is conjectured not to have existed before theRestoration. Shakspeare and his contemporaries probably were spectatorsof only a single drama. ]

[Footnote 51: Storia Critica del Teatri de Signorelli, tom. Iii. 258. --Baretti mentions a collection of four thousand dramas, made byApostolo Zeno, of which the greater part were comedies. He allows thatin tragedies his nation is inferior to the English and the French; but"_no nation_, " he adds, "_can be compared with us for pleasantry andhumour in comedy. _" Some of the greatest names in Italian literaturewere writers of comedy. Ital. Lib. 119. ]

[Footnote 52: Altieri explains _Formica_ as a crabbed fellow who actsthe butt in a farce. ]

[Footnote 53: I refer the reader to Steevens's edition, 1793, vol. Ii. P. 495, for a sight of these literary curiosities. ]

[Footnote 54: The commencement of the "Platt" of the "Seven DeadlySinnes, " believed to be a production of the famous Dick Tarleton, willsufficiently enlighten the reader as to the character of the whole. Theoriginal is preserved at Dulwich, and is written in two columns, on apasteboard about fifteen inches high, and nine in breadth. We havemodernised the spelling:--

"A tent being placed on the stage for Henry the Sixth; he in it asleep. To him the lieutenant, and a pursuivant (R. Cowley, Jo. Duke), and onewarder (R. Pallant). To them Pride, Gluttony, Wrath, and Covetousness atone door; at another door Envy, Sloth, and Lechery. The three put backthe four, and so exeunt. 

"Henry awaking, enter a keeper (J. Sincler), to him a servant (T. Belt), to him Lidgate and the keeper. Exit, then enter again--then Envy passethover the stage. Lidgate speakes. "]

[Footnote 55: Women were first introduced on the Italian stage about1560--it was therefore an extraordinary novelty in Nash's time. ]

[Footnote 56: That this kind of drama was perfectly familiar to theplay-goers of the era of Elizabeth, is clear from a passage in Meres'"Palladis Tamica, " 1598; who speaks of Tarleton's extemporal power, adding a compliment to "our witty Wilson, who, for learning andextemporal wit, in this faculty is without compare or compeer; as to hisgreat and eternal commendations, he manifested in his challenge at theSwan, on Bank-side. " The Swan was one of the theatres so popular in theera of Elizabeth and James I. , situated on the Bankside, Southwark. ]

[Footnote 57: Dr. Clarke's Travels, vol. Iv. P. 56. ]

[Footnote 58: In the poem on the entrenchment of New Ross, in Ireland, in 1265 (Harl. MS. , No. 913), is a similar account of the minstrelsywhich accompanied the workers. The original is in Norman French; thetranslation we use is that by the late Miss Landon (L. E. L. ):--

 Monday they began their labours, Gay with banners, flutes, and labours; Soon as the noon hour was come, These good people hastened home, With their banners proudly borne. Then the youth advanced in turn, And the town, they make it ring, With their merry carolling; Singing loud, and full of mirth, A way they go to shovel earth. "

]

[Footnote 59: Deip. Lib. Xiv. Cap. Iii. ]

[Footnote 60: The Lords of the Admiralty a few years ago issued arevised edition of these songs, for the use of our navy. They embody socompletely the idea "of a true British sailor, " that they have developedand upheld the character. ]

[Footnote 61: In Durfey's whimsical collection of songs, "Wit andMirth, " 1682, are several trade songs. One on the blacksmiths begins:--

 Of all the trades that ever I see, There's none to a blacksmith compared may be, With so many several tools works he; Which nobody can deny!"

The London companies also chanted forth their own praises. Thus theMercers' Company, in 1701, sang in their Lord Mayor's Show, alluding totheir arms, "a demi-Virgin, crowned":--

 "Advance the Virgin--lead the van-- Of all that are in London free, The mercer is the foremost man That founded a society; Of all the trades that London grace, We are the first in time and place. "

]

[Footnote 62: Dr. Burney subsequently observed, that "this rogueAutolycus is the true ancient Minstrel in the old Fabliaux;" on whichSteevens remarks, "Many will push the comparison a little further, andconcur with me in thinking that our _modern minstrels_ of the opera, like their predecessor Autolycus, are _pickpockets_ as well as singersof _nonsensical_ ballads. "--_Steevens's Shakspeare_, vol. Vii. P. 107, his own edition, 1793. ]

[Footnote 63: Mr. Roscoe has printed this very delightful song in theLife of Lorenzo, No. Xli. App. ]

[Footnote 64: The late Rowland Hill constantly sang at the Surrey Chapela hymn to the tune of "Rule Britannia, " altered to "Rule Emmanuel. "There was published in Dublin, in 1833, a series of "Hymns written tofavourite tunes. " They were the innocent work of one who wished to dogood by a mode sufficiently startling to those who see impropriety inthe conjunction of the sacred and the profane. Thus, one "pious chanson"is written to _Gramachree_, or "The Harp that once through Tara'sHalls, " of Moore. Another, describing the death of a believer, is set to"The Groves of Blarney. "]

[Footnote 65: The festival of St. Blaize is held on the 3rd of February. Percy notes it as "a custom in many parts of England to light up fireson the hills on St. Blaize's Night. " Hone, in his "Every-day Book, " Vol. I. P. 210, prints a detailed account of the woolcombers' celebration atBradford, Yorkshire, in 1825, in which "Bishop Blaize" figured with the"bishop's chaplain, " surrounded by "shepherds and shepherdesses, " butpersonated by one John Smith, with "very becoming gravity. "]

[Footnote 66: The custom was made the subject of an Essay by Gregory, inillustration of the tomb of one of these functionaries at Salisbury. They were elected on St. Nicholas' Day, from the boys of the choir, andthe chosen one officiated in pontificals, and received large donations, as the custom was exceedingly popular. Even royalty listened favourablyto "the chylde-bishop's" sermon. ]

[Footnote 67: Alexander Necham, abbot of Cirencester (born 1157, died1217), has left us his idea of a "noble garden, " which should containroses, lilies, sunflowers, violets, poppies, and the narcissus. A largevariety of roses were introduced between the fourteenth and sixteenthcenturies. The Provence rose is thought to have been introduced byMargaret of Anjou, wife to Henry VI. The periwinkle was common inmediæval gardens, and so was the gilly-flower or clove-pink. The lateMr. Hudson Turner contributed an interesting paper on the state ofhorticulture in England in early times to the fifth volume of the"Archæological Journal. " Among other things, he notes the contents ofthe Earl of Lincoln's garden, in Holborn, from the bailiff's account, inthe twenty-fourth year of Edward I. --"We learn from this curiousdocument that apples, pears, nuts, and cherries were produced insufficient quantities, not only to supply the earl's table, but also toyield a profit by their sale. The vegetables cultivated in this gardenwere beans, onions, garlic, leeks, and others. " Vines were also grown, and their cuttings sold. ]

[Footnote 68: This is, however, an error. Mr. Turner, in the paperquoted, p. 154, says, "It may fairly be presumed that the cherry waswell known at the period of the Conquest, and at every subsequent time. It is mentioned by Necham in the twelfth century, and was cultivated inthe Earl of Lincoln's garden in the thirteenth. "]

[Footnote 69: The _quince_ comes from Sydon, a town of Crete, we aretold by Le Grand, in his Vie privée des François, vol. I. P. 143; wheremay be found a list of the origin of most of our fruits. ]

[Footnote 70: Peacham has here given a note. "_The filbert_, so named of_Philibert_, a king of France, who caused by arte sundry kinds to bebrought forth: as did a gardener of Otranto in Italie bycloue-gilliflowers, and carnations of such colours as we now see them. "]

[Footnote 71: The queen-apple was probably thus distinguished incompliment to Elizabeth. In Moffet's "Health's Improvement, " I find anaccount of apples which are said to have been "graffed upon amulberry-stock, and then wax thorough red as our queen-apples, called byRuellius, _Rubelliana_, and _Claudiana_ by Pliny. " I am told the race isnot extinct; but though an apple of this description may yet be found, it seems to have sadly degenerated. ]

[Footnote 72: The Court of Wards was founded in the right accorded tothe king from the earliest time, to act as guardian to all minors whowere the children of his own tenants, or of those who did the sovereignknightly service. They were in the same position, consequently, as theChancery Wards of the present day; but much complaint being made of theprivate management of themselves and their estates by the persons whoacted as their guardians, and who were responsible only to the king'sexchequer, King Henry VIII. , in the thirty-second year of his reign, founded "the Court of Wards" in Westminster Hall, as an open court oftrial or appeal, for all persons under its jurisdiction. In thefollowing year, a court of "liveries" was added to it; and it was alwaysafterwards known as the "Court of Wards and Liveries. " By "liveries" ismeant, in old legal phraseology, "the delivery of seisin to the heir ofthe king's tenant in ward, upon suing for it at full age, " theinvestiture, in fact, of the ward in his legal right as heir to hisparents' property. This court was under the conduct of a very fewofficers who enriched themselves; and one of the first acts of the Houseof Lords, when the great changes were made during the troubles ofCharles I. , was to suppress the court altogether. This was done in 1645, and confirmed by Cromwell in 1656. At the restoration of Charles II. Itwas again specially noted as entirely suppressed. ]

[Footnote 73: D'Ewes's father lost a manor, which was recovered by thewidow of the person who had sold it to him. Old D'Ewes considered thisloss as a punishment for the usurious loan of money; the fact is, thathe had purchased that manor with the _interests_ accumulating from themoney lent on it. His son entreated him to give over "the practice ofthat _controversial sin_. " This expression shows that even in that agethere were rational political economists. Jeremy Bentham, in his littletreatise on Usury, offers just views, cleared from the indistinct andpartial ones so long prevalent. Jeremy Collier has an admirable Essay onUsury, vol. Iii. It is a curious notion of Lord Bacon, that he wouldhave interest at a lower rate in the country than in trading towns, because the merchant is best able to afford the highest. ]

[Footnote 74: In Rowley's "Search for Money, " 1609, is an amusingdescription of the usurer, who binds his clients in "worse bonds andmanacles than the Turk's galley-slaves. " And in Decker's "Knights'Conjuring, " 1607, we read of another who "cozen'd young gentlemen oftheir land, had acres mortgaged to him by wiseacres for three hundredpounds, payde in hobby-horses, dogges, bells, and lutestrings; which, ifthey had been sold by the drum, or at an outrop (public auction), withthe cry of 'No man better, ' would never have yielded £50. "]

[Footnote 75: "The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinarie, or the Walkes inPowles, " 1603, is the title of a rare tract in the Malone collection, now in the Bodleian Library. It is a curious picture of the manners ofthe day. ]

[Footnote 76: Games with cards. Strutt says _Primero_ is one of the mostancient games known to have been played in England, and he thusdescribes it:--"Each player had four cards dealt to him, the 7 was thehighest card in point of number that he could avail himself of, whichcounted for 21; the 6 counted for 16, the 5 for 15, and the ace for thesame; but the 2, the 3, and the 4 for their respective points only. Theknave of hearts was commonly fixed upon for the quinola, which theplayer might make what card or suit he thought proper; if the cards wereof different suits, the highest number won the _primero_; if they wereall of one colour, he that held them won the flush. " _Gleek_ isdescribed in "Memoirs of Gamesters, " 1714, as "a game on the cardswherein the ace is called _Tib_, the knave _Tom_, the 4 of trumps_Tiddy_. _Tib_ the ace is 15 in hand and 18 in play, because it wins atrick; _Tom_ the knave is 9, and _Tiddy_ is 4; the 5th _Towser_, the 6th_Tumbler_, which, if in hand, _Towser_ is 5 and _Tumbler_ 6, and sodouble if turned up; and the King or Queen of trumps is 3. Now, as therecan neither more nor less than 3 persons play at this game, who have 12cards a-piece dealt to them at 4 at a time, you are to note that 22 areyour cards; if you win nothing but the cards that were dealt you, youlose 10; if you have neither _Tib_, _Tom_, _Tiddy_, _King_, _Queen_, _Mournival_, nor _Gleek_, you lose, because you count as many cards asyou had in tricks, which must be few by reason of the badness of yourhand; if you have _Tib_, _Tom_, _King_ and _Queen_ of trumps in yourhand, you have 30 by honours, that is, 8 above your own cards, besidesthe cards you win by them in play. If you have _Tom_ only, which is 9, and the King of trumps, which is 3, then you reckon from 12, 13, 14, 15, till you come to 22, and then every card wins so many pence, groats, orwhat else you play'd for; and if you are under 22, you lose as many. "]

[Footnote 77: A note to Singer's edition of "Hall's Satires, " says thephrase originated from the popular belief that the tomb of Sir JohnBeauchamp, in old St. Paul's, was that of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester. Hence, to walk about the aisles dinnerless was termed _dining with DukeHumphrey_; and a poem by Speed, termed "The Legend of his Grace, " &c. , published 1674, details the popular idea--

 Nor doth the duke his invitation send To princes, or to those that on them tend, But pays his kindness to a hungry maw; His charity, his reason, and his law. For, to say truth, _Hunger_ hath hundreds brought _To dine with him_, and all not worth a groat. 

]

[Footnote 78: Let not the delicate female start from the revoltingscene, nor censure the writer, since that writer is a woman--suppressingher own agony, as she supported on her lap the head of the miserablesufferer. This account was drawn up by Mrs. Elizabeth Willoughby, aCatholic lady, who, amidst the horrid execution, could still her ownfeelings in the attempt to soften those of the victim: she was aheroine, with a tender heart. 

The subject was one of the executed Jesuits, Hugh Green, who often wentby the name of Ferdinand Brooks, according to the custom of thesepeople, who disguised themselves by double names: he suffered in 1642;and this narrative is taken from the curious and scarce folios of Dodd, a Roman Catholic Church History of England. 

"The hangman, either through unskilfulness, or for want of sufficientpresence of mind, had so ill-performed his first duty of hanging him, that when he was cut down he was perfectly sensible, and able to situpright upon the ground, viewing the crowd that stood about him. Theperson who undertook to quarter him was one Barefoot, a barber, who, being very timorous when he found he was to attack a living man, it wasnear half an hour before the sufferer was rendered entirely insensibleof pain. The mob pulled at the rope, and threw the Jesuit on his back. Then the barber immediately fell to work, ripped up his belly, and laidthe flaps of skin on both sides; the poor gentleman being so present tohimself as to make the sign of the cross with one hand. During thisoperation, Mrs. Elizabeth Willoughby (the writer of this) kneeled at theJesuit's head, and held it fast beneath her hands. His face was coveredwith a thick sweat; the blood issued from his mouth, ears, and eyes, andhis forehead burnt with so much heat, that she assures us she couldscarce endure her hand upon it. The barber was still under a greatconsternation. "--But I stop my pen amidst these circumstantial horrors. ]

[Footnote 79: Harl. MSS. 36. 50. ]

[Footnote 80: This pathetic poem has been printed in one of the oldeditions of Sir Walter Rawleigh's Poems, but could never have beenwritten by him. In those times the collectors of the works of acelebrated writer would insert any fugitive pieces of merit, and passthem under a name which was certain of securing the reader's favour. Theentire poem in every line echoes the feelings of Chidiock Titchbourne, who perished with all the blossoms of life and genius about him in theMay time of his existence. ]

[Footnote 81: Foreign authors who had an intercourse with the Englishcourt seem to have been better informed, or at least found themselvesunder less restraint than our home-writers. In Bayle, note x. The readerwill find this mysterious affair cleared up; and at length in one of ourown writers, Whitaker, in his "Mary Queen of Scots Vindicated, " vol. Ii. P. 502. Elizabeth's Answer to the first Address of the Commons, on hermarriage, in Hume, vol. V. P. 13, is now more intelligible: he haspreserved her fanciful style. ]

[Footnote 82: A curious trait of the neglect Queen Mary experienced, whose life being considered very uncertain, sent all the intriguers of acourt to Elizabeth, the next heir, although then in a kind of stateimprisonment. ]

[Footnote 83: This despatch is a meagre account, written before theambassador obtained all the information the present letter displays. Thechief particulars I have preserved above. ]

[Footnote 84: By Sir Symonds D'Ewes's Journal it appears, that theFrench ambassador had mistaken the day, Wednesday the 16th, for Thursdaythe 17th of October. The ambassador is afterwards right in the otherdates. The person who moved the house, whom he calls "_Le Seindicque dela Royne_, " was Sir Edward Rogers, comptroller of her majesty'shousehold. The motion was seconded by Sir William Cecil, who enteredmore largely into the particulars of the queen's charges, incurred inthe defence of _New-Haven, _ in France, the repairs of her navy, and theIrish war with O'Neil. In the present narrative we fully discover thespirit of the independent member; and, at its close, that part of thesecret history of Elizabeth which so powerfully developes her majesticcharacter. ]

[Footnote 85: The original says, "ung subside de quatre solz pourliure. "]

[Footnote 86: This gentleman's name does not appear in Sir SymondsD'Ewes's Journal. Mons. Le Mothe Fenelon has, however, the uncommonmerit, contrary to the custom of his nation, of writing an English namesomewhat recognisable; for Edward Basche was one of the generalsurveyors of the victualling of the queen's ships, 1573, as I find inthe Lansdowne MSS. , vol. Xvi. Art. 69. ]

[Footnote 87: In the original, "Ils avoient le nez si long qu'ils'estendoit despuis Londres jusques au pays d'West. "]

[Footnote 88: This term is remarkable. In the original, "La Royne ayant_impetré, "_ which in Congrave's Dictionary, a contemporary work, isexplained by, --"To get by praier, obtain by suit, compass by intreaty, procure by request. " This significant expression conveys the real notionof this venerable Whig, before Whiggism had received a denomination, andformed a party. ]

[Footnote 89: The French ambassador, no doubt, flattered himself and hismaster, that all this "parlance" could only close in insurrection andcivil war. ]

[Footnote 90: In the original, "A ung tas de cerveaulx si legieres. "]

[Footnote 91: The word in the original is _insistance_; an expressiveword as used by the French ambassador; but which _Boyer_, in hisDictionary, doubts whether it be French, although he gives a modernauthority; the present is much more ancient. ]

[Footnote 92: The Duke of Norfolk was, "without comparison, the firstsubject in England; and the qualities of his mind corresponded with hishigh station, " says Hume. He closed his career, at length, the victim oflove and ambition, in his attempt to marry the Scottish Mary. So greatand honourable a man could only be a criminal by halves; and, to such, the scaffold, and not the throne, is reserved, when they engage inenterprises, which, by their secrecy, in the eyes of a jealoussovereign, assume the form and the guilt of a conspiracy. ]

[Footnote 93: Hume, vol, v. C. 39; at the close of 1566. ]

[Footnote 94: Dr. Birch's Life of this Prince. ]

[Footnote 95: Harleian MS. , 6391. ]

[Footnote 96: La Vie de Card. Richelieu, anonymous, but written by J. LeClerc, 1695, vol. I. Pp. 116-125. ]

[Footnote 97: "A Detection of the Court and State of England, " vol. I. P. 13. ]

[Footnote 98: Stowe's Annals, p. 824. ]

[Footnote 99: I give the title of this rare volume. "FinettiPhiloxensis: Some choice Observations of Sir John Finett, Knight, andMaster of the Ceremonies to the two last Kings; touching the receptionand precedence, the treatment and audience, the punctilios and contestsof forren ambassadors in England. _Legati ligant Mumdum_. 1656. " Thisvery curious diary was published after the author's death by his friendJames Howell, the well-known writer; and Oldys, whose literary curiosityscarcely anything in our domestic literature has escaped, has analysedthe volume with his accustomed care. He mentions that there was amanuscript in being, more full than the one published, of which I havenot been able to learn farther. --_British Librarian_, p. 163. ]

[Footnote 100: Charles I. Had, however, adopted them, and long preservedthe stateliness of his court with foreign powers, as appears by theseextracts from manuscript letters of the time:

Mr. Mead writes to Sir M. Stuteville, July 25, 1629. 

"His majesty was wont to answer the French ambassador in his ownlanguage; now he speaks in English, and by an _interpreter_. And so dothSir Thomas Edmondes to the French king; contrary to the ancient custom:so that altho' of late we have not equalled them in arms, yet now weshall equal them in ceremonies. "

 Oct. 31, 1628. 

"This day fortnight, the States' ambassador going to visit my lordtreasurer about some business, whereas his lordship was wont always tobring them but to the stairs' head, he then, after a great deal ofcourteous resistance on the ambassador's part, attended him through thehall and court-yard, even to the very boot of his coach. "--_Sloane MSS_. 4178. ]

[Footnote 101: Clarendon's Life, vol. Ii. P. 160. ]

[Footnote 102: The Diary of William Raikes, Esq. , has only recently beenpublished: it relates to the first half of the present century, andproves that the race of diarists are not extinct among ourselves. ]

[Footnote 103: Ashmole noted every trifle, even to the paring of hisnails; and being as believer in astrology, and a student in the occultsciences, occasionally mentions his own superstitious observances. Thus, April 11, 1681, he notes--"I took, early in the morning, a good dose ofelixir, and hung three spiders about my neck, and they drove my agueaway. Deo Gratias!"]

[Footnote 104: This diary has been published since the above waswritten. ]

[Footnote 105: It is a thin book, simply lapped in parchment, and filledwith brief memorandums written in a remarkably neat and minute hand. ]

[Footnote 106: This has also been published in a handsome quarto volumesince the above was written. Roberta's collection of Anglo-Gallic coinsare now in the British Museum. ]

[Footnote 107: Sir Thomas Crew's Collection of the Proceedings of theParliament, 1628, p. 71. ]

[Footnote 108: The consequence of this prohibition was, that our own menof learning were at a loss to know what arms the enemies of England, andof her religion, were fabricating against us. This knowledge wasabsolutely necessary, as appears by a curious fact in Strype's Life ofWhitgift. A license for the importation of foreign books was granted toan Italian merchant, with orders to collect abroad this sort of libels;but he was to deposit them with the archbishop and the privy council. Afew, no doubt, were obtained by the curious, Catholic orProtestant. --Strype's "Life of Whitgift, " p. 268. ]

[Footnote 109: The author, with his publisher, who had their right handscut off, was John Stubbs of Lincoln's Inn, a hot-headed Puritan, whosesister was married to Thomas Cartwright, the head of that faction. Thisexecution took place upon a scaffold, in the market-place atWestminster. After Stubbs had his right hand cut off, with his left hepulled off his hat, and cried with a loud voice, "God save the Queen!"the multitude standing deeply silent, either out of horror at this newand unwonted kind of punishment, or else out of commiseration of theundaunted man, whose character was unblemished. Camden, a witness tothis transaction, has related it. The author, and the printer, and thepublisher were condemned to this barbarous punishment, on an act ofPhilip and Mary, _against the authors and publishers of seditiouswritings_. Some lawyers were honest enough to assert that the sentencewas erroneous, for that act was only a temporary one, and died withQueen Mary; but, of these honest lawyers, one was sent to the Tower, andanother was so sharply reprimanded, that he resigned his place as ajudge in the Common Pleas. Other lawyers, as the lord chief justice, whofawned on the prerogative far more then than afterwards in the Stuartreigns, asserted that Queen Mary was a king; and that an act made by anyking, unless repealed, must always exist, because the King of Englandnever dies!]

[Footnote 110: A letter from J. Mead to Sir M. Stuteville, July 19, 1628. Sloane MSS. 4178. ]

[Footnote 111: See "Calamities of Authors, " vol. Ii. P. 116. ]

[Footnote 112: It is a quarto tract, entitled "Mr. John Milton'sCharacter of the Long Parliament and Assembly of Divines in 1641;omitted in his other works, and never before printed, and veryseasonable for these times. 1681. " It is inserted in the uncastratededition of Milton's prose works in 1738. It is a retort on the_Presbyterian_ Clement Walker's History of the _Independents_; andWarburton, in his admirable characters of the historians of this period, alluding to Clement Walker, says--"Milton was even with him in the fineand severe character he draws of the Presbyterian administration. "]

[Footnote 113: Southey, in his "Doctor, " has a whimsical chapter onAnagrams, which, he says, "are not likely ever again to hold so high aplace among the prevalent pursuits of literature as they did in theseventeenth century, when Louis XIII. Appointed the Provençal, ThomasBillen, to be his royal anagrammatist, and granted him a salary of12, 000 livres. "]

[Footnote 114: Two of the luckiest hits which anagrammatists have made, were on the Attorney-General _William Noy_--"I moyl in law;" and _SirEdmundbury Godfrey_--"I find murdered by rogues. " But of unfittinganagrams, none were ever more curiously unfit than those which werediscovered in Marguerite de Valois, the profligate Queen ofNavarre--"Salve, Virgo Mater Dei; ou, de vertu royal image. "--Southey's_Doctor_. ]

[Footnote 115: Drummond of Hawthornden speaks of anagrams as "most idlestudy; you may of one and the same name make both good and evil. So didmy uncle find in _Anna Regina_, 'Ingannare, ' as well of _AnnaBritannorum Regina_, 'Anna regnantium arbor;' as he who in _Charles deValois_ found 'Chasse la dure loy, " and after the massacre found'Chasseur desloyal. ' Often they are most false, as _Henri de Bourbon_'Bonheur de Biron. ' Of all the anagrammatists, and with least pain, hewas the best who out of his own name, being _Jaques de la Chamber_, found 'La Chamber de Jaques, ' and rested there: and next to him, here athome, a gentleman whose mistress's name being _Anna Grame_, he found itan 'Anagrame' already. "]

[Footnote 116: See _ante_, LITERARY FOLLIES, what is said on _Pannard_. ]

[Footnote 117: An allusion probably to Archibald Armstrong, the fool orprivileged jester of Charles I. , usually called _Archy_, who had aquarrel with Archbishop Laud, and of whom many _arch_ things are onrecord. There is a little jest-book, very high priced, and of littleworth, which bears the title of _Archie's Jests_. ]

[Footnote 118: The writer was Bancroft, who, in his _Two Books ofEpigrams_, 1639, has the following addressed to the poet--

 Thou hast so us'd thy pen, or _shooke thy speare_, That poets startle, nor thy wit come neare. 

]

[Footnote 119: There can be little doubt now, after a due considerationof evidence, that the proper way of spelling our great dramatist's nameis Shakespeare, in accordance with its signification; but there is goodproof that the pronunciation of the first syllable was short and sharp, and the Warwickshire _patois_ gave it the sound of _Shaxpere_. In theearliest entries of the name in legal records, it is writtenSchakespere; the name of the great dramatist's father is entered in theStratford corporation books in 1665 as _John_ _Shacksper_. There aremany varieties of spelling the name, but that is strictly in accordancewith other instances of the looseness of spelling usual with writers ofthat era; as a general rule, _the printed form_ of an author's nameseldom varied, and may be accepted as the correct one. ]

[Footnote 120: The term seems to have been applied to the article fromthe pointed or _peaked_ edges of the lace which surrounded the stiffpleated ruffs, and may be constantly seen in portraits of the era ofElizabeth and James. ]

[Footnote 121: Nat. Hist. Lib. Ix. 56. Snails are still a common dish inVienna, and are eaten with eggs. ]

[Footnote 122: Dr. Lister published in the early part of the lastcentury an amusing poem, "The Art of Cookery, in imitation of 'Horace'sArt of Poetry. '"]

[Footnote 123: Genial. Dierum, II. 283, Lug. 1673. The writer hascollected in this chapter a variety of curious particulars on thissubject. ]

[Footnote 124: The commentators have not been able always to assignknown names to the great variety of fish, particularly sea-fish, theancients used, many of which we should revolt at. One of their daintieswas a shell-fish, prickly like a hedgehog, called _Echinus_. They atethe dog-fish, the star-fish, porpoises or sea-hogs, and even seals. InDr. Moffet's "Regiment of Diet, " an exceeding curious writer of thereign of Elizabeth, republished by Oldys, may be found an ample accountof the "sea-fish" used by the ancients. --Whatever the _Glociscus_ was, it seems to have been of great size, and a shell-fish, as we may inferfrom the following curious passage in Athenæus. A father, informed thathis son is leading a dissolute life, enraged, remonstrates with hispedagogue:--"Knave! thou art the fault! hast thou ever known aphilosopher yield himself so entirely to the pleasures thou tellest meof?" The pedagogue replies by a Yes! and that the sages of the Porticoare great drunkards, and none know better than they _how to attack aGlociscus_. ]

[Footnote 125: Ben Jonson, in his "Staple of News, " seems to have hadthese passages in view when he wrote:--

 A master cook! Why, he's the man of men For a professor, he designes, he drawes. He paints, he carves, he builds, he fortifies; Makes citadels of curious fowl and fish. Some he dry-dishes, some moats round with broths, Mounts marrow-bones, cuts fifty-angled custards, Bears bulwark pies, and for his outerworks He raiseth ramparts of immortal crust; And teacheth all the tactics at one dinner: What rankes, what files to put his dishes in; The whole art military. Then he knows The influence of the stars upon his meats, And all their seasons, tempers, qualities; And so to fit his relishes and sauces, He has Nature in a pot, 'bove all the chemists, Or airy brethren of the rosy-cross. He is an architect, an ingineer, A soldier, a physician, a philosopher, A general mathematician!

]

[Footnote 126: Sat. Iv. 140. ]

[Footnote 127: Miscellaneous Works, vol. V. 504. ]

[Footnote 128: Seneca, Ep. 18. ]

[Footnote 129: Horace, in his dialogue with his slave Davus, exhibits alively picture of this circumstance. Lib. Ii. Sat. 7. ]

[Footnote 130: A large volume might be composed on these grotesque, profane, and licentious feasts. Du Cange notices several under differentterms in his Glossary--Festum Asinorum, Kaleudæ, Cervula. A curiouscollection has been made by the Abbé Artigny, in the fourth and seventhvolumes of his "Mémoires d'Histoire, " &c. Du Radier, in his "RécréationsHistoriques, " vol. I. P. 109, has noticed several writers on thesubject, and preserves one on the hunting of a man, called Adam, fromAsh-Wednesday to Holy-Thursday, and treating him with a good supper atnight, peculiar to a town in Saxony. See "Ancillon's Mélange Critique, "&c. , i. 39, where the passage from Raphael de Volterra is found atlength. In my learned friend Mr. Turner's second volume of his "Historyof England, " p. 367, will be found a copious and a curious note on thissubject. ]

[Footnote 131: Thiers. Traite des Jeux, p. 449. The _fête Dieu_ in thiscity of Aix, established by the famous _Rene d'Anjou_, the Troubadourking, was re markable for the absurd mixture of the sacred and profane. There is a curious little volume devoted to an explanation of thosegrotesque ceremonies, with engravings. It was printed at Aix in 1777. ]

[Footnote 132: The custom is now abolished. ]

[Footnote 133: Selden's "Table Talk. "]

[Footnote 134: It may save the trouble of a reference to give here acondensation of Stubbes' narrative. He says that the Lord of Misrule, onbeing selected takes twenty to sixty others "lyke hymself" to act as hisguard, who are decorated with ribbons, scarfs, and bells on their legs. "Thus, all things set in order, they have their hobby-horses, theirdragons, and other antiques, together with their gaudie pipers, andthunderyng drummers, to strike up the devill's dance withal. " So theymarch to the church, invading it, even though service be performing, "with such a confused noyse that no man can heare his own voice. " Thenthey adjourn to the churchyard, where booths are set up, and the rest ofthe day spent in dancing and drinking. The followers of "My Lord" goabout to collect money for this, giving in return "badges andcognizances" to wear in the hat; and do not scruple to insult, or even"duck, " such as will not contribute. But, adds Stubbes, "another sort offantasticall fooles" are well pleased to bring all sorts of food anddrink to furnish out the feast. ]

[Footnote 135: A rare quarto tract seems to give an authentic narrativeof one of these grand Christmas keepings, exhibiting all theirwhimsicality and burlesque humour: it is entitled "Gesta Grayorum; orthe History of the high and mighty Prince Henry, Prince of Purpoole, Arch-duke of Stapulia and Bernardia (Staple's and Bernard's Inns), Dukeof High and Nether-Holborn, Marquess of St. Giles and Tottenham, CountPalatine of Bloomsbury and Clerkenwell, Great Lord of the Cantons ofIslington, Kentish Town, &c. , Knight and Sovereign of the most heroicalOrder of the Helmet, who reigned and died A. D. 1594. " It is full ofburlesque speeches and addresses. As it was printed in 1688, I supposeit was from some manuscript of the times; the preface gives noinformation. Hone, in his "Year-Book, " has reprinted this tract, whichabounds with curious details of the mock-dignity assumed by this_pseudo_-potentate, who was ultimately invited, with all his followers, to the court of Queen Elizabeth, and treated by her as nobly as if hehad been a real sovereign. ]

[Footnote 136: On the last Revels held, see _Gent. Mag. _ 1774, p. 273. ]

[Footnote 137: Pleasant Notes upon Don Quixote, by Edmund Gayton, Esq. , folio, 1654, p. 24. ]

[Footnote 138: The universities indulged in similar festivities. Anaccount of the Christmas Prince, elected by the University of Oxford in1607, was published in 1816, from a manuscript preserved in St. John'sCollege, where his court was held. His rule commenced by the issuing of, "an act for taxes and subsidies" toward the defrayment of expenses, andthe appointment of a staff of officers. After this the revels openedwith a banquet and a play. The whole of his brief reign was conducted in"right royal" style. His mandates were constructed in the manner of aking; he was entitled "Prince of Alba Fortunata, Lord of St. John's, Duke of St. Giles', Marquess of Magdalen's, " &c. &c. ; and his affairswere similarly dignified with burlesque honours. "His privy chamber wasprovided and furnished with a chair of state placed upon a carpet, witha cloth of state hang'd over it, newly made for the same purpose. " Atbanquetings and all public occasions he was attended by his whole court. The whole of the sports occupied from the 21st of December until ShroveTuesday, when the entertainments closed with a play, being one of eightperformed at stated times during the festivities, which were paid for bythe contributions of the collegians and heads of the house. ]

[Footnote 139: Foote's amusing farce has immortalised this popular pieceof folly; but those who desire to know more of the peculiarities andeccentricities of the election, will find an excellent account in Hone's"Every-Day Book, " vol. Ii. , with some engravings illustrative of thesame, drawn by an artist who attended the great mock election of 1781. ]

[Footnote 140: Their "brevets, " &c. , are collected in a little volume, "Recueil des Pièces du Regiment de la Calotte; à Paris, chez JaquesColombat, Imprimeur privilégié du Regiment. L'an de l'Ere Calotine7726. " From the date, we infer that the true _calotine_ is as old as thecreation. ]

[Footnote 141: The lady is buried at Hollingbourne, near Maidstone, Kent. The monument in Westminster Abbey is merely "in memoriam. " Shedied 1697. ]

[Footnote 142: Was this thought, that strikes with a sudden effect, inthe mind of Hawkesworth, when he so pathetically concluded his lastpaper?]

[Footnote 143: The first edition was "printed for W. Taylor, at theShip, in Paternoster Row, " as an octavo volume, in the early part of theyear 1719. The title runs thus:--"The Life, and strange surprisingAdventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner, " and has a full-lengthpicture of Crusoe, as a frontispiece, "Clarke and Pine, _sc. _"; which isthe type of all future representations of the hero, who is depicted inhis skin-dress upon the desolate island. It is a very wretched work ofart; the hook was brought out in a common manner, like all De Foe'sworks. ]

[Footnote 144: Eccl. Hist. , book vii. P. 399. ]

[Footnote 145: Collier's "Annals of the Stage, " i. 144. ]

[Footnote 146: Bale's play, _God's Promises_, and that called _NewCustome_, reprinted in the first volume of Dodsley's collection, areexamples of the great license these dramatists allowed themselves. ]

[Footnote 147: It has been preserved by Hawkins in his "Origin of theEnglish Drama, " vol. I. ]

[Footnote 148: Macrobius, Saturn. , lib. Iii. 1, 14. ]

[Footnote 149: Several of them have been reprinted by the ShakespeareSociety since the above was written. Particularly the work of Gossonhere alluded to. ]

[Footnote 150: The "Historica Histrionica" notes Stephen Hammerton as "amost noted and beautiful woman-actor, " in the early part of theseventeenth century. Alexander Goffe, "the woman-actor at Blackfriars, "is also mentioned as acting privately "in Oliver's time. "]

[Footnote 151: One actor, William Kynaston, continued to perform femalecharacters in the reign of Charles II. , and his performances werepraised by Dryden, and preferred by many to that of the ladiesthemselves. He was so great a favourite with the fair sex, that thecourt ladies used to take him in their coaches for an airing in HydePark. ]

[Footnote 152: Ben Jonson was one of their hardest enemies; and his_Zeal-of-the-Land-busy, Justice Over-doo, _ and _Dame Pure-craft_, havenever been surpassed in masterly delineation of puritanic cant. Thedramatists of that era certainly did their best to curb Puritanism byexposure. ]

[Footnote 153: The title of this collection is "THE WITS, or Sport uponSport, in select pieces of Drollery, digested into scenes by way ofDialogue. Together with variety of Humours of several nations, fittedfor the pleasure and content of all persons, either in Court, City, Country, or Camp. The like never before published. Printed for H. Marsh, 1662:" again printed for F. Kirkman, 1672. To Kirkman's edition isprefixed a curious print representing the inside of a Bartholomew-fairtheatre (by some supposed to be the Red Bull Theatre in Clerkenwell). Several characters are introduced. In the middle of the stage, a figurepeeps out of the curtain; on a label from his mouth is written "Tuquoque, " it represents Bubble, a silly person in a comedy, played soexcellently by an actor named Green, that it was called "Green'sTu-quoque. " Then a changeling and a simpleton, from plays by Cox; aFrench dancing-master, from the Duke of Newcastle's "Variety;" Clause, from Beaumont and Fletcher's "Beggar's Bush;" and Sir John Falstaff andhostess. Our notion of Falstaff by this print seems very different fromthat of our ancestors: their Falstaff is in extravaganza of obesity, notrequiring so much "stuffing" as ours does. ]

[Footnote 154: PYM was then at the head of the Commons, and was usuallydeputed to address personally the motley petitioners. We have a curiousspeech he made to the _tradesmen's wives_ in Echard's "History ofEngland, " vol. Ii. 290. ]

[Footnote 155: Prynne's tract entitled "Health's Sicknesse" is full ofcurious allusions to the drinking-customs of the era of Charles theFirst. His paradoxical title alludes to the sickness that results fromtoo freely drinking "healths. "]

[Footnote 156: Camden's "History of Queen Elizabeth, " Book III. Manystatutes against drunkenness, by way of prevention, passed in the reignof James the First. Our law looks on this vice as an aggravation of anyoffence committed, not as an excuse for criminal misbehaviour. See"Blackstone, " book iv. C. 2, sec. 3. In Mr. Gifford's "Massinger, " vol. Ii. 458, is a note to show that when we were young scholars, we soonequalled, if we did not surpass, our masters. Mr. Gilchrist therefurnishes an extract from Sir Richard Baker's Chronicle, which tracesthe origin of this exotic custom to the source mentioned; but the wholepassage from Baker is literally transcribed from Camden. ]

[Footnote 157: Nash's "Pierce Pennilesse, " 1595, sig. F 2. ]

[Footnote 158: These barbarous phrases are Dutch, Danish, or German. Theterm _skinker_, a filler of wine, a butler or cup-bearer, according toPhillips; and in taverns, as appears by our dramatic poets, a _drawer_, is Dutch, or, according to Dr. Nott, purely Danish, from _skenker_. 

_Half-seas over_, or nearly drunk, is likely to have been a proverbialphrase from the Dutch, applied to that state of ebriety by an ideafamiliar with those water-rats. Thus _op-zee_, Dutch, means literally_over-sea_. Mr. Gifford has recently told us in his "Jonson, " that itwas a name given to a stupifying beer introduced into England from theLow Countries; hence _op-zee_, or over-sea; and _freezen_ in German, signifies to _swallow greedily_: from this vile alliance they compoundeda harsh term, often used in our old plays. Thus Jonson:

 I do not like the dulness of your eye, It hath a heavy cast, 'tis _upsee Dutch_. 

 _Alchemist_, A. Iv. S. 2. 

And Fletcher has "upse-freeze;" which Dr. Nott explains in his editionof Decker's "Gull's Hornbook, " as "a tipsy draught, or swallowing liquortill drunk. " Mr. Gifford says it was the name of Friesland beer; themeaning, however, was "to drink swinishly like a Dutchman. "

We are indebted to the Danes for many of our terms of jollity, such as a_rouse_ and a _carouse_. Mr. Gifford has given not only a new but verydistinct explanation of these classical terms in his "Massinger. " "A_rouse_ was a large glass, in which a health was given, the drinking ofwhich by the rest of the company formed a _carouse_. Barnaby Richnotices the _carouse_ as an invention for which the first foundermerited hanging. It is necessary to add, that there could be no _rouse_or _carouse_, unless the glasses were emptied. " Although we have lostthe terms, we have not lost the practice, as those who have the honourof dining in public parties are still gratified by the animating cry of"Gentlemen, charge your glasses. "

According to Blount's "Glossographia, " _carouse_ is a corruption of twoold German words, _gar_ signifying _all_, and _ausz, out_; so that todrink _garauz_ is to drink _all out_: hence _carouse_. ]

[Footnote 159: "Pierce Pennilesse, " sig. F 2, 1595. ]

[Footnote 160: When Christian IV. Of Denmark was at the court of ourJames I. On a visit, drinking appears to have been carried to an excess;there is extant an account of a court masque, in which the actors weretoo tipsy to continue their parts; luckily, their majesties were notsufficiently sober to find fault. ]

[Footnote 161: These inventions for keeping every thirsty soul withinbounds are alluded to by Tom Nash; I do not know that his authority willbe great as an antiquary, but the things themselves he describes he hadseen. He tells us, that "King Edgar, because his subjects should notoffend in swilling and bibbing as they did, caused certain _iron cups_to be chained to every fountain and well-side, and at every vintner'sdoor, with _iron pins in them_, to stint every man how much he shoulddrink; and he who went _beyond one of those pins_ forfeited a penny forevery draught. "

Pegge, in his "Anonymiana, " has minutely described these _peg-tankards_, which confirms this account of Nash, and nearly the antiquity of thecustom. "They have in the inside a row of eight pins one above another, from top to bottom; the tankard holds two quarts, so that there is agill of ale, _i. E. _, half a pint of Winchester measure between each pin. The first person that drank was to empty the tankard to the first peg orpin; the second was to empty to the next pin, &c. ; by which means thepins were so many measures to the compotators, _making them all drinkalike_, or the same quantity: and as the distance of the pins was suchas to contain a large draught of liquor, _the company would be veryliable by this method to get drunk_, especially when, if they drankshort of the pin or beyond it, they were obliged to drink again. InArchbishop Anselm's Canons, made in the council at London in 1102, priests are enjoined not to go to drinking-bouts, nor _to drink topegs_. The words are--"_Ut Presbyteri non, eant ad potationes_, nec ADPINNAS bibant. " (Wilkins, vol. I. P. 388. ) This shows the antiquity ofthis invention, which at least was as old as the Conquest. ]

[Footnote 162: And yet a _drawer-on too_; i. E. An incitement toappetite: the phrase is yet in use. This drawer-on was also technicallytermed a _puller-on_ and a _shoeing-horn_ in drink. 

On "the Italian delicate oil'd mushrooms, " still a favourite dish withthe Italians, I have to communicate some curious knowledge. In anoriginal manuscript letter dated Hereford, _15th November 1659_, thename of the writer wanting, but evidently the composition of a physicianwho had travelled, I find that the dressing of MUSHROOMS was then anovelty. The learned writer laments his error that he "disdained tolearn the cookery that occurred in my travels, by a sullen principle ofmistaken devotion, and thus declined the great helps I had to enlargeand improve human diet. " This was an age of medicine, when it wasimagined that the health of mankind essentially depended on diet; andMoffet had written his curious book on this principle. Our writer, innoticing the passion of the Romans for mushrooms, which was called "anImperial dish, " says, "he had eaten it often at Sir Henry Wotton's table(our resident ambassador at Venice), always dressed by the inspection ofhis Dutch-Venetian Johanna, or of Nic. Oudart, and truly it did deservethe old applause as I found it at his table; it was far beyond ourEnglish food. Neither did any of us find it of hard digestion, for wedid not eat like Adamites, but as modest men would eat of musk-melons. If it were now lawful to hold any kind of intelligence with Nic. Oudart, I would only ask him _Sir Henry Wotton's art of dressing mushrooms_, andI hope that is not high treason, "--_Sloane MSS. _ 4292. ]

[Footnote 163: See Mr. Douce's curious "Illustrations of Shakspeare, "vol. I. 457; a gentleman more intimately conversant with our ancient anddomestic manners than, perhaps, any single individual in the country. ]

[Footnote 164: This term is used in Bancroft's "Two Books of Epigramsand Epitaphs, " 1639. I take it to have been an accepted one of thatday. ]

[Footnote 165: "A delicate Diet for daintie mouthed Dronkardes, wherinthe fowle Abuse of common carowsing and quaffing with hartie Draughtesis honestlie admonished. " By George Gascoigne, Esquier. 1576. ]

[Footnote 166: I shall preserve the story in the words of Whitelocke; itwas something ludicrous, as well as terrific. 

"From Berkshire (in May, 1650) that five drunkards agreed to drink theking's health in their blood, and that each of them should cut off apiece of his buttock, and fry it upon the gridiron, which was done byfour of them, of whom one did bleed so exceedingly, that they were fainto send for a chirurgeon, and so were discovered. The wife of one ofthem hearing that her husband was amongst them, came to the room, andtaking up a pair of tongs laid about her, and so saved the cutting ofher husband's flesh. "--_Whitelocke's Memorials_, p. 453, secondedition. ]

[Footnote 167: Burnet's Life of Sir Matthew Hale. ]

[Footnote 168: Calamities of Authors, vol. Ii. P. 313. ]

[Footnote 169: It first appeared in a review of his "Memoirs. "]

[Footnote 170: The words are, "Une derrière la scène. " I am not sure ofthe-meaning, but an _Act behind the scenes_ would be perfectly incharacter with this dramatic bard. ]

[Footnote 171: The exact reasoning of Sir Fretful, in the _Critic_, whenMrs. Dangle thought his piece "rather too long, " while he proves hisplay was "a remarkably short play. "--"The first evening you can spare methree hours and a half, I'll undertake to read you the whole, frombeginning to end, with the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for themusic between the acts. The watch here, you know, is the critic. "]

[Footnote 172: Again, Sir Fretful; when Dangle "ventures to suggest thatthe interest rather falls off in the fifth act;"--"Rises, I believe youmean, sir. "--No, I don't, upon my word. "--"Yes, yes, you do, upon mysoul; it certainly don't fall off; no, no, it don't fall off. "]

[Footnote 173: See _ante_. Vol. I. P. 71. ]

[Footnote 174: The plates of the original edition are in the quartoform; they have been poorly reduced in the common editions in twelves. ]

[Footnote 175: The establishment could originally accommodate no morethan six lunatics. In 1644, the number had only increased to forty-four;and the building had nearly perished for want of funds, when the cityraised a subscription and repaired it. After the great fire, it wasre-established on a much larger scale in Moorfields. ]

[Footnote 176: Stowe's "Survey of London, " Book i. ]

[Footnote 177: "The Academy of Armory, " Book ii. C. 3, p. 161. This is asingular work, where the writer has contrived to turn the barrensubjects of heraldry into an entertaining Encyclopædia, containing muchcurious knowledge on almost every subject; but this folio moreparticularly exhibits the most copious vocabulary of old English terms. It has been said that there are not more than twelve copies extant ofthis very rare work, which is probably not true. [It is certainly notcorrect; the work is, however, rare and valuable. ]]

[Footnote 178: In that curious source of our domestic history, the"English Villanies" of Decker, we find a lively description of the"Abram cove, " or Abram man, the impostor who personated a Tom o' Bedlam. He was terribly disguised with his grotesque rags, his staff, hisknotted hair, and with the more disgusting contrivances to excite pity, still practised among a class of our mendicants, who, in their cantlanguage, are still said "to sham Abraham. " This impostor was, therefore, as suited his purpose and the place, capable of working onthe sympathy, by uttering a silly _maunding_, or demanding of charity, or terrifying the easy fears of women, children, and domestics, as hewandered up and down the country: they refused nothing to a being whowas as terrific to them as "Robin Good-fellow, " or "Raw-head andBloody-bones. " Thus, as Edgar expresses it, "sometimes with lunaticbans, sometimes with prayers, " the gestures of this impostor were "acounterfeit puppet-play: they came with a hollow noise, whooping, leaping, gambolling, wildly dancing, with a fierce or distracted look. "These sturdy mendicants were called "Tom of Bedlam's band of mad-caps, "or "Poor Tom's flock of wild geese. " Decker has preserved their "Maund, "or begging--"Good worship master, bestow your reward on a poor man thathath been in Bedlam without Bishopsgate, three years, four months, andnine days, and bestow one piece of small silver towards his fees, whichhe is indebted there, of 3_l. _ 13_s. _ 7½_d. _" (or to such effect). 

Or, "Now dame, well and wisely, what will you give poor Tom? One poundof your sheep's-feathers to make poor Tom a blanket? or one cutting ofyour sow's side, no bigger than my arm; or one piece of your salt meatto make poor Tom a sharing-horn; or one cross of your small silver, towards a pair of shoes; well and wisely, give poor Tom an old sheet tokeep him from the cold; or an old doublet and jerkin of my master's;well and wisely, God save the king and his council. " Such is a historydrawn from the very archives of mendicity and imposture; and writtenperhaps as far back as the reign of James the First: but which prevailedin that of Elizabeth, as Shakspeare has so finely shown in his Edgar. This _Maund_, and these assumed manners and _costume_, I should not havepreserved from their utter penury, but such was the rude material whichShakspeare has worked up into that most fanciful and richest vein ofnative poetry, which pervades the character of the wandering Edgar, tormented by "the foul fiend" when he

 ---- bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast. 

And the poet proceeds with a minute picture of "Bedlam beggars. " See_Lear_, Act ii. Sc. 3. ]

[Footnote 179: Aubrey's information is perfectly correct; for thoseimpostors who assumed the character of Tom o' Bedlams for their ownnefarious purposes used to have a mark burnt in their arms, which theyshowed as the mark of Bedlam. "The English Villanies" of Decker, c 17. 1648. ]

[Footnote 180: I discovered the present in a very scarce collection, entitled "Wit and Drollery, " 1661; an edition, however, which is not theearliest of this once fashionable miscellany. ]

[Footnote 181: Harman, in his curious "Caveat, a warning for CommonCursitors, vulgarly called Vagabones, " 1566, describes the "Abraham Man"as a pretended lunatic, who wandered the country over, soliciting foodor charity at farm-houses, or frightening and bullying the peasantry forthe same. They described themselves as cruelly treated in Bedlam, andnearly in the words of Shakspeare's Edgar. ]

[Footnote 182: Dr. James, the translator of "Pauli's Treatise on Tea, "1746, says: "According to the Chinese, tea produces an appetite afterhunger and thirst are satisfied; therefore, the drinking of it is to beabstained from. " He concludes his treatise by saying: "As Hippocratesspared no pains to remove and root out the Athenian plague, so have Iused the utmost of my endeavours to destroy the raging epidemicalmadness of importing tea into Europe from China. "]

[Footnote 183: _Edinburgh Review_, 1816, p. 117. ]

[Footnote 184: Modern collectors have gone beyond this, and exhibited"Elizabethan tea-pots, " which are just as likely to be true. There is noclear proof of the use of tea in England before the middle of theseventeenth century. This ante-dating of curiosities is the weakness ofcollectors. ]

[Footnote 185: Aubrey, speaking of this house, then in other hands, saysthat Bowman's Coffee-house in St. Michael's Alley, established 1652, wasthe first opened in London. About four years afterwards, James Farr, abarber, opened another in Fleet-street, by the Inner Temple gate. Hatton, in his "New View of London, " 1708, says it is "now the Rainbow, "and he narrates how Farr "was presented by the Inquest of St. Dunstan's-in-the-West, for making and selling a sort of liquor calledcoffee, as a great nuisance and prejudice to the neighbourhood. " Thewords of the presentment are, that "in making the same he annoyeth hisneighbours by evill smells. " Hatton adds, with _naïveté_, "Who wouldthen have thought London would ever have had near 3000 such nuisances, and that coffee would have been (as now) so much drank by the best ofquality and physicians. " It is, however, proper to note thatcoffee-houses had been opened in Oxford at an earlier date. Anthony Woodinforms us that one Jacob, a Jew, opened a coffee-house in the parish ofSt. Peter-in-the-East, at Oxford, as early as 1650. ]

[Footnote 186: This witty poet was not without a degree of prescience;the luxury of eating spiders has never indeed become "modish, " but Mons. Lalande, the French astronomer, and one or two humble imitators of themodern philosopher, have shown this triumph over vulgar prejudices, andwere epicures of this stamp. ]

[Footnote 187: "Not only tea, which we have from the East, but alsochocolate, which is imported from the West Indies, _begins to befamous_. "--Dr. James's "Treatise on Tobacco, Tea, Coffee, andChocolate. " 1746. ]

[Footnote 188: Gerbier was in Antwerp at Rubens' death, and sent over aninventory of his pictures and effects for the king's selection. ]

[Footnote 189: Sloane MSS. 5176, letter 367. ]

[Footnote 190: See Gregorio Panzani's Memoirs of his agency in England. This work long lay in manuscript, and was only known to us in theCatholic Dodd's "Church History, " by partial extracts. It was at lengthtranslated from the Italian MS. And published by the Rev. JosephBerington; a curious piece of our own secret history. ]

[Footnote 191: Hume's "History of England, " vii. 842. His authority isthe "Parl. Hist. " xix. 88. ]

[Footnote 192: Whitelocke's "Memorials. "]

[Footnote 193: Harl. MSS. 4898. ]

[Footnote 194: One of these pictures, "A Concert, " is now in ourNational Gallery. ]

[Footnote 195: They were secured by Cromwell, who had intended toreproduce the designs at the tapestry-factory established in Mortlake, but the troubles of the kingdom hindered it. Charles II. Very nearlysold them to France; Lord Danby intercepted the sale; when they werepacked away in boxes, until the time of William III. , who built thegallery at Hampton Court expressly for their exhibition. ]

[Footnote 196: This picture is now one of the ornaments of WindsorCastle. ]

[Footnote 197: These would appear to be copies of Andrea Mantegna's"Triumphs of Julius Cæsar, " the cartoons of which are still in thegalleries of Hampton Court. ]

[Footnote 198: Some may be curious to learn the price of gold and silverabout 1650. It appears by this manuscript inventory that the silver soldat 4s. 11d. Per oz. And gold at £3 10s. ; so that the value of thesemetals has little varied during the last century and a half. ]

[Footnote 199: This poem is omitted in the great edition of the king'sworks, published after the Restoration; and was given by Burnet from amanuscript of his "Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton;" but it had beenpreviously published in Perrenchief's "Life of Charles the First. " Ithas been suspected that this poem is a pious fraud, and put forth in theking's name--as likewise was the "Eikon Basilike. " One point I havesince ascertained is, that Charles did write verses, as rugged as someof these. And in respect to the book, notwithstanding the artifice andthe interpolations of Gauden, I believe that there are some passageswhich Charles only could have written. ]

[Footnote 200: This article was composed without any recollection that apart of the subject had been anticipated by Lord Orford. In the"Anecdotes of Painting in England, " many curious particulars arenoticed: the story of the king's diamond seal had reached his lordship, and Vertue had a mutilated transcript of the inventory of the king'spictures, &c. , discovered in Moorfields; for, among others, more thanthirty pages at the beginning relating to the plate and jewels weremissing. The manuscript in the Harleian Collection is perfect. LordOrford has also given an interesting anecdote to show the king'sdiscernment in the knowledge of the hands of the painters, whichconfirms the little anecdote I have related from the Farrars. But for amore intimate knowledge of this monarch's intercourse with artists, Ibeg to refer to the third volume of my "Commentaries on the Life andReign of Charles the First, " chapter the sixth, on "The Private Life ofCharles the First. --Love of the Arts. "]

[Footnote 201: Hume, vol. Vi. P. 234. Charles seems, however, to haveconstantly consulted his favourite minister, the Duke of Buckingham, onthe subject, though his letters express clearly his own determination. In Harleian MSS. , 6988, is a letter written to Buckingham, dated HamptonCourt, 20th November, 1625, he declares, "I thought I would have causeenough in short time to put away the Monsieurs, " from the quarrels theywould ferment between himself and his wife, or his subjects, and begs ofhim to acquaint "the queen-mother (Mary de Medicis) with my intention;for this being an action that may have a show of harshness, I thought itwas fit to take this way, that she to whom I have had many obligationsmay not take it unkindly. " In another long letter, preserved among theRawlinson MSS. In the Bodleian Library, he enters minutely into hisdomestic grievances--"What unkindnesses and distastes have fallenbetween my wife and me"--which he attributes to the "crafty counsels" ofher servants. On 7th August, 1626, he writes a final letter to the duke, ordering him to send them all away, "if you can by fair means (but sticknot long in disputing), otherwise force them away, driving them awaylike so many wild beasts, until ye have shipped them, and so the devilgo with them. "]

[Footnote 202: Lord Hardwicke's State-papers, II. 2, 3. ]

[Footnote 203: Sloane MSS. 4176. ]

[Footnote 204: Harl. MSS. 646. ]

[Footnote 205: Ambassades du Maréchal de Bassompierre, vol. Iii. P. 49. ]

[Footnote 206: A letter from Dr. Meddus to Mr. Mead, 17th Jan. 1625. Sloane MSS. 4177. ]

[Footnote 207: Sir S. D'Ewes's "Journal of his Life, " Harl. MS. 646. Wehave seen our puritanic antiquary describing the person of the queenwith some warmth; but "he could not abstain from deep-fetched sighs, toconsider that she wanted the knowledge of true religion, " a circumstancethat Henrietta would have as zealously regretted for Sir Symondshimself!]

[Footnote 208: A letter to Mr. Mead, July 1, 1625. Sloane MSS. 4177. ]

[Footnote 209: At Hampton Court there is a curious picture of Charlesand Henrietta dining in the presence. This regal honour, after itsinterruption during the Civil Wars, was revived in 1667 by Charles theSecond, as appears by "Evelyn's Diary. " "Now did his majesty again _dinein the presence_, in ancient style, with music and all the courtceremonies. "]

[Footnote 210: The author of the Life of this Archbishop and LordKeeper, a voluminous folio, but full of curious matters. AmbrosePhillips the poet abridged it. ]

[Footnote 211: A letter from Mr. Mead to Sir Martin Stuteville, October, 1625. Sloane MSS. 4177. ]

[Footnote 212: There is a very rare print, which has commemorated thiscircumstance. ]

[Footnote 213: Mr. Pory to Mr. Mead, July, 1626. Harl. MSS. No. 383. Theanswer of the king's council to the complaints of Bassompierre is bothcopious and detailed in vol. Iii. , p. 166, of the "Ambassades" of thismarshal. ]

[Footnote 214: A letter from Mr. Pory to Mr. Mead contains a fullaccount of this transaction. Harl. MSS. 383. ]

[Footnote 215: A letter among Tanner's MS. In the Bodleian Librarynotes--"When they were turned away from Somerset House the passage wassomewhat rough;" and adds, "I know not what revilings took place betwixtthem and the king's guard, but one of the soldiers told me that forfurious speech, he would rather have taken common thieves to prison. " Astanza of a popular song of the day testifies to the joy of the Commonsof England on the event:--

 Harke! I'll tell you news from court; Marke, these things will make you good sport. All the French that lately did prance There, up and downe in bravery, Now are all sent back to France, King Charles hath smelt some knavery. 

]

[Footnote 216: A letter from the Earl of Dorchester, 27th May, 1630. Harl. MSS. 7000 (160). ]

[Footnote 217: The letters he sent to Buckingham are full of tenderrespect for the queen, lamenting her (certainly unwarrantable) neglectof reciprocity of attention, and silly squabbles in favour of herservants. ]

[Footnote 218: Clarendon details the political coquetries of Monsieur LaFerté; his "notable familiarity with those who governed most in the twohouses;" ii. 93. ]

[Footnote 219: Hume seems to have discovered in "Estrades' Memoirs" thereal occasion of Richelieu's conduct. In 1639 the French and Dutchproposed dividing the Low Country provinces; England was to standneuter. Charles replied to D'Estrades, that his army and fleet shouldinstantly sail to prevent these projected conquests. From that momentthe intolerant ambition of Richelieu swelled the venom of his heart, andhe eagerly seized on the first opportunity of supplying the Covenantersin Scotland with arms and money. Hume observes, that Charles hereexpressed his mind with an imprudent candour; but it proves he hadacquired a just idea of national interest, vi. 337. See on this a verycurious passage in the Catholic Dodd's "Church History, " iii. 22. Heapologises for his cardinal by asserting that the same line of policywas pursued here in England "by Charles I. Himself, who sent fleets andarmies to assist the Huguenots, or French rebels, as he calls them; andthat this was the constant practice of Queen Elizabeth's ministry, tofoment differences in several neighbouring kingdoms, and support theirrebellious subjects, as the forces she employed for that purpose both inFrance, Flanders, and Scotland, are an undeniable proof. " Therecriminations of politicians are the confessions of great sinners. ]

[Footnote 220: "Grotii Epistolæ, " 375 and 380, fo. Ams. 1687. A volumewhich contains 2500 letters of this great man. ]

[Footnote 221: "La Vie du Cardinal Duc de Richelieu, " anonymous, butwritten by Jean le Clerc, vol. I. 507. An impartial but heavy life of agreat minister, of whom, between the panegyrics of his flatterers andthe satires of his enemies, it was difficult to discover a just medium. ]

[Footnote 222: Mem. Rec. Vol. Vi. 131. ]

[Footnote 223: It is quoted in the "Remarques Critiques sur leDictionnaire de Bayle, " Paris, 1748. This anonymous folio volume waswritten by Le Sieur Joly, a canon of Dijon, and is full of curiousresearches, and many authentic discoveries. The writer is nophilosopher, but he corrects and adds to the knowledge of Bayle. Here Ifound some original anecdotes of Hobbes, from MS. Sources, during thatphilosopher's residence at Paris, which I have given in "Quarrels ofAuthors. "]

[Footnote 224: Montresor, attached to the Duke of Orleans, has left ussome very curious memoirs, in two small volumes; the second preservingmany historical documents of that active period. This spirited writerhas not hesitated to detail his projects for the assassination of thetyrannical minister. ]

[Footnote 225: At page 154 of this work is a different view of thecharacter of this extraordinary man: those anecdotes are of a lighterand satirical nature; they touch on "the follies of the wise. "]

[Footnote 226: In "The Disparity. " to accompany "The Parallel" of SirHenry Wotton; two exquisite cabinet-pictures, preserved in the _ReliquiæWottonianæ;_ and at least equal to the finest "Parallels" of Plutarch. ]

[Footnote 227: The singular openness of his character was notstatesmanlike. He was one of those whose ungovernable sincerity "cannotput all their passions in their pockets. " He told the Count-DukeOlivarez, on quitting Spain, that "he would always cement the friendshipbetween the two nations; but with regard to you, sir, in particular, youmust not consider me as your friend, but must ever expect from me allpossible enmity and opposition. " The cardinal was willing enough, saysHume, "to accept what was proffered, and on these terms the favouritesparted. " Buckingham, desirous of accommodating the parties in thenation, once tried at the favour of the puritanic party, whose head wasDr. Preston, master of Emanuel College. The duke was his generouspatron, and Dr. Preston his most servile adulator. The more zealouspuritans were offended at this intimacy; and Dr. Preston, in a letter tosome of his party, observed that it was true that the duke was a vileand profligate fellow, but that there was no other way to come at himbut by the lowest flattery; that it was necessary for the glory of Godthat such instruments should be made use of; and more in this strain. Some officious hand conveyed this letter to the duke, who, when Dr. Preston came one morning as usual, asked him whether he had everdisobliged him, that he should describe him to his party in such blackcharacters. The doctor, amazed, denied the fact; on which the dukeinstantly produced the letter, then turned from him, never to see himmore. It is said that from this moment he abandoned the puritan party, and attached himself to Laud. This story was told by Thomas Baker to W. Wotton, as coming from one well versed in the secret history of thattime. --_Lansdowne MSS_. 872, fo. 88. ]

[Footnote 228: A well-known tract against the Duke of Buckingham, by Dr. George Eglisham, physician to James the First, entitled "The Forerunnerof Revenge, " may be found in many of our collections. Gerbier, in hismanuscript memoirs, gives a curious account of this political libeller, the model of that class of desperate scribblers. "The falseness of hislibels, " says Gerbier, "he hath since acknowledged, though too late. During my residence at Bruxelles, this Eglisham desired Sir WilliamChaloner, who then was at Liege, to bear a letter to me, which is stillextant: he proposed, if the king would pardon and receive him intofavour again, with some competent subsistence, that he would recant allthat he had said or written to the disadvantage of any in the court ofEngland, confessing that he had been urged thereunto by some combustiousspirits, that for their malicious designs had set him on work. "Buckingham would never notice these and similar libels. Eglisham flew toHolland after he had deposited his political venom in his nativecountry, and found a fate which every villanous factionist who offers torecant for "a competent subsistence" does not always; he was found dead, assassinated in his walks by a companion. Yet this political libel, withmany like it, are still authorities. "George Duke of Buckingham, " saysOldys, "will not speedily outstrip Dr. Eglisham's 'Forerunner ofRevenge. '"]

[Footnote 229: The misery of prime ministers and favourites is a portionof their fate which has not always been noticed by their biographers;one must be conversant with secret history to discover the thorn intheir pillow. Who could have imagined that Buckingham, possessing theentire affections of his sovereign, during his absence had reason tofear being supplanted? When his confidential secretary, Dr. Mason, sleptin the same chamber with the duke, he would give way at night to thosesuppressed passions which his unaltered countenance concealed by day. Inthe absence of all other ears and eyes he would break out into the mostquerulous and impassioned language, declaring that "never his despatchesto divers princes, nor the great business of a fleet, of an army, of asiege, of a treaty, of war and peace both on foot together, and all ofthem in his head at a time, did not so much break his repose as the ideathat some at home under his majesty, of whom he had well deserved, werenow content to forget him. " So short-lived is the gratitude observed toan absent favourite, who is most likely to fall by the creatures his ownhands have made. ]

[Footnote 230: Sloane MSS. 4181. ]

[Footnote 231: Gerbier gives a curious specimen of Grondomar's pleasantsort of impudence. When James expressed himself with great warmth on theSpaniards, under Spinola, taking the first town in the Palatinate, underthe eyes of our ambassador, Gondomar, with Cervantic humour, attemptedto give a new turn to the discussion, for he wished that Spinola hadtaken the whole Palatinate at once, for "then the generosity of mymaster would be shown in all its lustre, by restoring it all again tothe English ambassador, who had witnessed the whole operations. " James, however, at this moment was no longer pleased with the inexhaustiblehumour of his old friend, and set about trying what could be done. ]

[Footnote 232: Hacket's Life of Lord Keeper Williams, p. 115, pt. 1, fo. ]

[Footnote 233: The narrative furnished by Buckingham, and vouched by theprince to the parliament, agrees in the main with what the duke toldGerbier. It is curious to observe how the narrative seems to haveperplexed Hume, who, from some preconceived system, condemns Buckingham"for the falsity of this long narrative, as calculated entirely tomislead the parliament. " He has, however, in the note [T] of this veryvolume, sufficiently marked the difficulties which hung about theopinion he has given in the text. The curious may find the narrative inFrankland's Annals, p. 89, and in Rushworth's Hist. Col. I. 119. It hasmany entertaining particulars. ]

[Footnote 234: Letter from J. Mead to Sir M. Stuteville, June 5, 1628. Harl. MSS. 7000. ]

[Footnote 235: Memoirs of James II. Vol. Ii. P. 163. ]

[Footnote 236: This was afterwards reduced to the sum of 1500 marks, andwas collected by an assessment and fine. The old account-books of theCity companies afford many items of the monies thus paid to the generalfund. The Carpenters' Company, for instance, have this entry in theirbooks: "Paid in January, 1632, for an assessment imposed on ourCompanie, by reason of the death of Dr. Lambe . . . V. Li. "]

[Footnote 237: Rushworth has preserved a burthen of one of thesesongs:--

 Let Charles and George do what they can, The duke shall die like Doctor Lambe. 

And on the assassination of the Duke, I find two lines in a MS. Letter. --

 The shepherd's struck, the sheep are fled! For want of _Lambe_ the _wolf_ is dead!

There is a scarce tract entitled "A brief Description of the notoriousLife of John Lambe, otherwise called Dr. Lambe, " with a curious woodprint of the mob pelting him in the street. ]

[Footnote 238: A series of these poems and songs, all remarkable for thestrength of their expressions against Buckingham, were edited by F. W. Fairholt, F. S. A. , for the Percy Society, and published by them in 1850. Here is a specimen from Sloane MS. No. 826. 

 Of British beasts the _Buck_ is king, His game and fame through Europe ring, His home exalted keepes in awe The lesser flocks; his will's a law. Our _Charlemaine_ takes much delight In this great beast so fair in sight, With his whole heart affects the same, And loves too well _Buck-King_ of _Game_. When he is chased, then 'gins the sport; When nigh his end, who's sorry for't? And when he falls the hunter's glad, The hounds are flesh'd, and few are sadd!

]

[Footnote 239: In the notes to a previous article on Buckingham in Vol. I. Will be found an account of his offices and emoluments. An epitaphmade after his murder thus expresses the popular sense of hisposition:--

 This little grave embraces One Duke and _twenty_ places. ]

[Footnote 240: There is a picture of Buckingham, mounted on a charger bythe sea-shore, crowded with Tritons, &c. As it reflects none of thegraces or beauty of the original, and seems the work of some wretchedapprentice of Rubens (perhaps Gerbier himself), these contradictoryaccompaniments increased the suspicion that the picture could not be theduke's: it was not recollected generally, that the favourite was bothadmiral and general; and that the duke was at once Neptune and Mars, ruling both sea and land. ]

[Footnote 241: This machine seems noticed in _Le Mercure François_, 2627, p. 803. ]

[Footnote 242: Gerbier, a foreigner, scarcely ever writes an Englishname correctly, while his orthography is not always intelligible. Hemeans here Lady Davies, an extraordinary character and supposedprophetess. This Cassandra hit the time in her dark predictions, and wasmore persuaded than ever that she was a prophetess! See a remarkableanecdote of her in a preceding article, "Of Anagrams. "]

[Footnote 243: The correct title is "The copie of his Grace's mostexcellent Rotomontados, sent by his servant the Lord Grimes, in answerto the Lower House of Parliament, 1628. " It is preserved in the SloaneMS. No. 826 (British Museum), and begins thus:--

 Avaunt you giddy-headed multitude And do your worst of spite; I never sued To gain your votes, though well I know your ends To ruin me, my fortune, and my friends. 

]

[Footnote 244: The duke was buried among the royal personages in Henrythe Seventh's chapel. His heart was placed in a monument erected inPortsmouth church, which, "greatly in contravention of religiousdecorum, usurped the place of the altar-piece, " until a few years since, when it was very properly removed to one of the side aisles. ]

[Footnote 245: Sloane MSS. 4178, letter 519. ]

[Footnote 246: Harl. MSS. 646. ]

[Footnote 247: One of the poems written at the time begins:--

 The Duke is dead!--and we are rid of strife By Felton's hand that took away his life. 

Another declares of his assassin:--

 He shall sit next to Brutus!

]

[Footnote 248: The fine, fixed originally at £2000, was mitigated, andthe corporal punishment remitted, at the desire of the Bishop ofLondon. ]

[Footnote 249: The MS. Letter giving this account observes, that thewords concerning his majesty were not read in open court, but only thoserelating to the duke and Felton. ]

[Footnote 250: Clarendon notices that Felton was "of a gentleman'sfamily in Suffolk, of good fortune and reputation. " I find that duringhis confinement, the Earl and Countess of Arundel, and Lord Maltravers, their son, "he being of their blood, " says the letter-writer, continually visited him, gave many proofs of their friendship, andbrought his "winding-sheet, " for to the last they attempted to save himfrom being hung in chains: they did not succeed. ]

[Footnote 251: Rushworth, vol. I. 638. ]

[Footnote 252: The original reads "It is for our sins our hearts arehardened. "]

[Footnote 253: Lansdowne MSS. No. 203, f. 147. The original paper abovedescribed was in the possession of the late William Upcott; he had itfrom Lady Evelyn, who found it among John Evelyn's papers at Wotton, inSurrey. Evelyn married the daughter of Sir Richard Browne, who hadmarried the only daughter of Sir Edward Nicholas, Secretary of State, and one of the persons before whom Felton was examined at Portsmouth. The words on this remarkable paper differ from the transcripts justgiven, and are exactly these:--"That man is cowardly, base, anddeserveth not the name of a gentleman or souldier, that is not willingeto sacrifice his life for the honor of his God, his Kinge, and hiscountrie. Lett noe man commend me for doinge of it, but ratherdiscommend themselves as the cause of it, for if God had not taken awayour hearts for our sinnes, he would not have gone so longe unpunished. "]

[Footnote 254: Harl. MSS. 7000. J. Mead to Sir Matt. Stuteville, Sept. 27, 1628. ]

[Footnote 255: The rack, or brake, now in the Tower, was introduced bythe Duke of Exeter in the reign of Henry VI. , as an auxiliary to hisproject of establishing the civil law in this country; and in derisionit was called his daughter. --Cowel's Interp. Voc. _Rack_. ]

[Footnote 256: This remarkable document is preserved by Dalrymple: it isan indorsement in the handwriting of Secretary Winwood, respecting theexamination of Peacham--a record whose graduated horrors might havecharmed the speculative cruelty of a Domitian or a Nero. "Upon theseinterrogatories, Peacham this day was examined _before torture, intorture, between torture, and after torture;_ notwithstanding, nothingcould be drawn from him, he persisting still in his obstinate andinsensible denials and former answer. "--Dalrymple's "Memoirs and Lettersof James I. " p. 58. ]

[Footnote 257: Z. Townley, in 1624, made the Latin oration in memory ofCamden, reprinted by Dr. Thomas Smith at the end of "Camden'sLife. "--Wood's "Fasti. " I find his name also among the verses addressedto Ben Jonson prefixed to his works. ]

[Footnote 258: The allusion here is to Charles Townley, Esq. , whosenoble collection of antique marbles now enrich our British Museum. Hewas born 1737, and died January 3, 1805. The collection was purchased bya national grant of 28, 200 _l_. ; and a building being expressly erectedfor them, in connexion with Montague House, then converted into anational museum, was opened to the public in 1808. ]

[Footnote 259: This poem has been collated afresh from the original inthe Sloane MS. No. 603. It concludes with the four lines forming theduke's epitaph, as printed in p. 369. ]

[Footnote 260: He has added in the Life the name of _Burlington_. ]

[Footnote 261: In the Life, Johnson gives Swift's complaint that Popewas never at leisure for conversation, because _he had always somepoetical scheme in his head_. ]

[Footnote 262: Johnson, in the Life, has given Watts' opinion of Pope'spoetical diction. ]

[Footnote 263: Ruffhead's "Life of Pope. "]

[Footnote 264: In the Life Johnson says, "Expletives he very earlyrejected from his verses; but he now and then admits an epithet rathercommodious than important. Each of the six first lines of the "Iliad"might lose two syllables with very little diminution of the meaning; andsometimes, after all his art and labour, one verse seems to be made forthe sake of another. ]

[Footnote 265: He has a few double rhymes, but always, I think, unsuccessfully, except one, in the Rape of the Lock. --"Life of Pope. "

Mrs. Thrale, in a note on this passage, mentions the couplet Johnsonmeant, for she asked him: it is

 The meeting points the fatal lock dissever From the fair head--for ever and for ever. 

]

[Footnote 266: Lanzi, Storia Pittorica, v. 85. ]

[Footnote 267: D'Argenville, Vies des Peintres, ii. 46. ]

[Footnote 268: The curious reader of taste may refer to Fuseli's SecondLecture for a _diatribe_ against what he calls "the Electic School;which, by selecting the beauties, correcting the faults, supplying thedefects, and avoiding the extremes of the different styles, attempted toform a perfect system. " He acknowledges the greatness of the Caracci;yet he laughs at the mere copying the manners of various painters intoone picture. But perhaps--I say it with all possible deference--ouranimated critic forgot for a moment that it was no mechanical imitationthe Caracci inculcated: _nature_ and _art_ were to be equally studied, and _secondo il nativo talento e la propria sua disposizione_. Barrydistinguishes with praise and warmth. "Whether, " says he, "we maycontent ourselves with adopting the _manly plan of art_ pursued by theCaracci and their school at Bologna, in uniting the perfections of allthe other schools; or whether, which I rather hope, we look farther intothe style of design upon our own studies after nature; whichever ofthese plans the nation might fix on, " &c. , ii. 518. Thus, three greatnames, Du Fresnoy, Fuseli, and Barry, restricted their notions of theCaracci plan to a mere imitation of the great masters; but Lanzi, inunfolding Lodovico's project, lays down as his first principle theobservation of nature, and, secondly, the imitation of the greatmasters; and all modified by the natural disposition of the artist. ]

[Footnote 269: D'Argenville, Vies des Peintres, ii. 47-68. ]

[Footnote 270: Bellori, Le Vite de Pittori, &c. ]

[Footnote 271: Passeri, Vite de Pittori. ]

[Footnote 272: D'Argenville, ii. 26. ]

[Footnote 273: Fuseli describes the gallery of the Farnese palace as awork of uniform vigour of execution, which nothing can equal but its_imbecility and incongruity of conception_. This deficiency in Annibalewas always readily supplied by the taste and learning of Agostino; thevigour of Annibale was deficient both in sensibility and correctinvention. ]

[Footnote 274: Long after this article was composed, the _Royal Societyof Literature_ was projected. It was founded by King George IV. , and issaid to have originated in a conversation between Dr. Burgess, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, and a member of the royal household, whoreported its substance to the king. The bishop was again sent for, andthe formation of the society commenced by the offer of premiums for anessay on Homer, the prize being one hundred guineas; a poem on Dartmoor, prize fifty guineas (awarded to Mrs. Hemans); and one of twenty-fiveguineas, for an essay on the Ancient and Modern Languages of Greece. In1823 the king granted the society a charter, and placed the annual sumof eleven hundred guineas at its disposal, to be spent in endowing tenassociates for life, who were to receive one hundred guineas each yearly(as a delicate mode of aiding needy literary men); the remaining onehundred guineas to be expended on two gold medals, to be also awarded toeminent men of letters. Coleridge, Dr. Jameson, Malthus, Roscoe, Todd, and Sharon Turner received annuities among other well-known literarycharacters; and Mitford, Southey, Scott, Crabbe, Hallam, and WashingtonIrving received medals. On the death of George IV. , the grant wasdiscontinued, and the society now exists by the subscriptions of itsmembers. ]

[Footnote 275: See an article "On the ridiculous titles assumed by theItalian Academies, " in a future page of this volume. ]

[Footnote 276: In J. T. Smith's "Historical and Literary Curiosities" isengraved a fac-simile of a series of designs for the arms of the RoyalSociety, drawn by Evelyn, but not used, because the king gave them thechoice of using the Royal Arms in a canton. The first of Evelyn'sdesigns exhibits a ship in full sail, with the motto _Et AugebiturScientia_. The other are as follows:--A hand issuing from the cloudsholding a plumb-line--motto, _Omnia probate_; two telescopessaltier-wise, the earth and planets above--motto, _Quantum nescimus_;the sun in splendour--motto, _Ad majorem lumen_; a terrestrial globe, with the human eye above--motto, _Rerum cognoscere causas_. ]

[Footnote 277: Evelyn notes in his Diary, August 20, 1662--"The kinggave us the armes of England, to be borne in a canton in our armes; andsent us a mace of silver-gilt, of the same fashion and bigness as thosecarried before his majestie, to be borne before our president onmeeting-days. " This mace is still used. ]

[Footnote 278: It was revived in 1707, by Wanley, the librarian to theEarl of Oxford, who composed its rules; he was joined by Bagford, Elstob, Holmes (keeper of the Tower records), Maddox, Stukely, andVertue the engraver. They met at the Devil Tavern, Fleet-street, andafterwards in rooms of their own in Chancery-lane. They ultimatelyremoved to apartments granted them in Somerset House by George III. , where they still remain. ]

[Footnote 279: It was said of Prynne, and his custom of quotingauthorities by hundreds in the margins of his books to corroborate whathe said in the text, that "he always had his wits beside him in themargin, to be beside his wits in the text. " This jest is Milton's. ]

[Footnote 280: Southey says--"A quotation may be likened to a text onwhich a sermon is preached. "]

[Footnote 281: Hone had this faculty in a large degree, and one of hisbest political satires, the "Political Showman at Home, " is entirelymade out of quotations from older authors applicable to the real orfancied characteristics of the politicians he satirized. ]

[Footnote 282: In MS. Bib. Reg. Inter lat. No. 2447, p. 134. ]

[Footnote 283: In the recent edition of Dante, by Romanis, in fourvolumes, quarto, the last preserves the "Vision of Alberico, " and astrange correspondence on its publication; the resemblances in numerouspassages are pointed out. It is curious to observe that the goodCatholic _Abbate Cancellieri_, at _first_ maintained the _authenticityof the Vision_, by alleging that _similar revelations_ have not beenunusual!--the Cavaliere _Gherardi Rossi_ attacked the whole as the crudelegend of a boy who was only made the instrument of the monks, and waseither a liar or a parrot! We may express our astonishment that, at thepresent day, a subject of mere literary inquiry should have beeninvolved with "the faith of the Roman church. " Cancellieri becomes atlength submissive to the lively attacks of Rossi; and the editor gravelyadds his "conclusion, " which had nearly concluded nothing! He discoverspictures, sculptures, and a mystery acted, as well as Visions in thetwelfth and thirteenth centuries, from which he imagines the Inferno, the Purgatorio, and the Paradiso owe their first conception. Theoriginality of Dante, however, is maintained on a right principle; thatthe poet only employed the ideas and the materials which is found in hisown country and his own times. ]

[Footnote 284: Michelet, in his "Life of Luther, " says the Spanishsoldiers mocked and loaded him with insults, on the evening of his lastexamination before the Diet at Worms, on his leaving the town-hall toreturn to his hostelry: he ceased to employ arguments after this, andwhen next day the archbishop of Treves wished to renew them, he repliedin the language of Scripture, "If this work be of men, it will come tonought, but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it. "]

[Footnote 285: The miracles of Clovis consisted of a shield, which waspicked up after having fallen from the skies; the anointing oil, conveyed from heaven by a white dove in a phial, which, till the reignof Louis XVI. Consecrated the kings of France; and the oriflamme, orstandard with golden flames, long suspended over the tomb of St. Denis, which the French kings only raised over the tomb when their crown was inimminent peril. No future king of France can be anointed with the_sainte ampoule_, or oil brought down to earth by a white dove; in 1794it was broken by some profane hand, and antiquaries have since agreedthat it was only an ancient lachrymatory!]

[Footnote 286: This fact was probably quite unknown to us, till it wasgiven in the "Quarterly Review, " vol. Xxix. However, the same event wasgoing on in Italy. ]

[Footnote 287: One of the most absurd reports that ever frightenedprivate society was that which prevailed in Paris at the end of theseventeenth century. It was, that the Jesuits used a poisoned snuffwhich they gave to their opponents, with the fashionable politeness ofthe day in "offering a pinch;" and which for a time deterred thecustom. ]

[Footnote 288: It is now about thirty-seven years ago since I firstpublished this anecdote; at the same time I received information thatour female historian and dilapidator had acted in this manner more thanonce. At that distance of time this rumour, so notorious at the BritishMuseum, it was impossible to authenticate. The Rev. William Graham, thesurviving husband of Mrs. Macaulay, intemperately called on Dr. Morton, in a very advanced period of life, to declare that "it appeared to himthat the note does not contain any evidence that the leaves were tornout by Mrs. Macaulay. " It was more apparent to the unprejudiced that thedoctor must have singularly lost the use of his memory, when he couldnot explain his own official note, which, perhaps, at the time he wascompelled to insert. Dr. Morton was not unfriendly to Mrs. Macaulay'spolitical party; he was the editor of Whitelocke's "Diary of his Embassyto the Queen of Sweden, " and has, I believe, largely castrated the work. The original lies at the British Museum. ]

[Footnote 289: There was one passage he recollected:--

 Just left my bed A lifeless trunk, and scarce a dreaming head!

]

[Footnote 290: I have seen a transcript, by the favour of a gentlemanwho sent it to me, of Gray's "Directions for Heading History. " It hadits merit, at a time when our best histories had not been published, butit is entirely superseded by the admirable "Méthode" of Lenglet duFresnoy. ]

[Footnote 291: Henry Stephen appears first to have started this subjectof _parody_; his researches have been borrowed by the Abbé Sallier, towhom, in my turn, I am occasionally indebted. His little dissertation isin the French Academy's "Mémoires, " tome vii. 398. ]

[Footnote 292: See a specimen in Aulus Gellius, where this parodistreproaches Plato for having given a high price for a book, whence hedrew his noble dialogue of the Timæus. Lib. Iii. C. 17. ]

[Footnote 293: See Spanheim Les Césars de L'Empéreur Julien in his"Preuves, " Remarque 8. Sallier judiciously observes, "Il peut nousdonner une juste idée de cette sorte d'ouvrage, mais nous ne savons pasprécisement en quel tems il a été composé;" no more truly than the Iliaditself!]

[Footnote 294: The first edition of this play is a solemn parodythroughout. In the preface the author defends it from being, as"maliciously" reported, "a burlesque on the loftiest parts of Tragedy, and designed to banish what we generally call fine writing from thestage. " When he afterwards quotes parallel passages from popular playswhich he has parodied, he does so saying, "whether this sameness ofthought and expression which I have quoted from them proceeded from anagreement in their way of thinking, or whether they have borrowed fromour author, I leave the reader to determine!"]

[Footnote 295: Les Parodies du Nouveau Théâtre Italien, 4 vols. 1738. Observations sur la Comédie et sur le Génie de Molière, par LouisRiccoboni. Liv. Iv. ]

[Footnote 296: _The Tailors; a Tragedy for Warm Weather_, was originallybrought out by Foote in 1767. There had been great disturbances betweenthe master tailors and journeymen about wages at this time; and theauthor has amusingly worked out the disputes and their consequences inthe heroic style of a blank verse tragedy. ]

[Footnote 297: Beattie on Poetry and Music, p. 111. ]

[Footnote 298: I have arranged many facts, connected with the presentsubject, in the fifth chapter of "The Literary Character, " in theenlarged and fourth edition, 1828. ]

[Footnote 299: A physician of eminence has told us of the melancholytermination of the life of a gentleman who in a state of mentalaberration cut his throat; the loss of blood restored his mind to ahealthy condition; but the wound unfortunately proved fatal. ]

[Footnote 300: It would be polluting these pages with ribaldry, obscenity, and blasphemy, were I to give specimens of some hymns of theMoravians and the Methodists, and some of the still lower sects. ]

[Footnote 301: There is a rare tract, entitled "Singing of Psalmes, vindicated from the charge of Novelty, " in answer to Dr. Russell, Mr. Marlow, &c. , 1698. It furnishes numerous authorities to show that it waspractised by the primitive Christians on almost every occasion. I shalldirectly quote a remarkable passage. ]

[Footnote 302: In the curious tract already referred to, the followingquotation is remarkable; the scene the fancy of MAROT pictured to him, had _anciently occurred_. St. Jerome, in his seventeenth Epistle toMarcellus, thus describes it: "In Christian villages little else is tobe heard but Psalms; for which way soever you turn yourself, either youhave the ploughman at his plough singing _Hallelujahs_, the weary brewerrefreshing himself with a _psalm_, or the vine-dresser chanting forthsomewhat of _David's_. "]

[Footnote 303: Mr. Douce imagined that this alludes to a common practiceat that time among the Puritans of _burlesquing the plain chant_ of thePapists, by adapting vulgar and ludicrous music to psalms and piouscompositions. --_Illust. Of Shakspeare_, i. 355. Mr. Douce does notrecollect his authority. My idea differs. May we not conjecture that theintention was the same which induced Sternhold to versify the Psalms, tobe sung instead of lascivious ballads; and the most popular tunes cameafterwards to be adopted, that the singer might practise his favouriteone, as we find it occurred in France?]

[Footnote 304: Ed. Philips in his "Satyr against Hypocrites, " 1689, alludes to this custom of the pious citizens--

 ---- Singing with woful noise, Like a cracked saint's bell jarring in the steeple, Tom Sternhold's wretched prick-song to the people. * * * * * Now they're at home and have their suppers eat, When "Thomas, " cryes the master, "come, repeat. " And if the windows gaze upon the street, To sing a Psalm they hold it very meet. 

]

[Footnote 305: Crescembini, at the close of "La bellezza della VolgarPoesia. " Roma, 1700. ]

[Footnote 306: History of the Middle Ages, ii. 584. See also Mr. Rose'sLetters from the North of Italy, vol. I. 204. Mr. Hallam has observed, that "such an institution as the society _degli Arcadi_ could at no timehave endured public ridicule in England for a fortnight. "]

[Footnote 307: Niceron, vol. Xliii. , Art. Porta. ]

[Footnote 308: See Tiraboschi, vol. Vii. Cap. 4, _Accademie_, andQuadrio's _Della Storia e della Ragione d'ogni Poesia. _ In the immensereceptacle of these seven quarto volumes, printed with a small type, thecurious may consult the voluminous Index, art. _Accademia_. ]

[Footnote 309: Ugo Foscolo was born in Padua, where he achieved an earlysuccess as an author. He entered the Italian army in 1805, but soonquitted it, and became Professor of Literature in the university ofPavia; but his lectures alarmed Napoleon by their boldness of speech, and he suppressed the professorship. He came to England in 1815, and wasexceedingly well received; he wrote much in the Edinburgh and QuarterlyReviews, besides publishing several books. He died in 1827, and isburied at Chiswick. ]

[Footnote 310: Edinburgh Review, No. 67-159, on Jacobite Relics. ]

[Footnote 311: In a pamphlet entitled "Mercurius Menippeus; the LoyalSatyrist, or Hudibras in Prose, " published in 1682, and said to be"written by an unknown hand in the time of the late Rebellion, but nevertill now published, " is the following curious notice of Sir Samuel, which certainly seems to point him out as the prototype of Hudibras;

 Whose back, or rather burthen, show'd As if it stoop'd with its own load. 

The author is speaking of Cromwell, and says, "I wonder how _Sir SamuelLuke_ and he should clash, for they are both cubs of the same uglylitter. This Urchin is as ill carved as that Goblin painted. The grandambear sure had blistered her tongue, and so left him unlicked. He lookslike a snail with his house upon his back, or the Spirit of the Militiawith a natural snapsack, and may serve both for tinker and budget too. Nature intended him to play at bowls, and therefore clapt a bias uponhim. One would think a mole had crept into his carcass before 'tis laidin the churchyard, and rooted in it. He looks like the visible tie ofÆneas bolstering up his father, or some beggarwoman endorsed with herwhole litter, and with a child behind. "]

[Footnote 312: Bavius and Mævius were Dr. Martyn, the well-known authorof tha dissertation on the Æneid of Virgil, and Dr. Russel, anotherlearned physician, as his publications attest. It does great credit totheir taste, that they were the hebdomadal defenders of Pope from theattacks of the heroes of the Dunciad. ]

[Footnote 313: There is great reason to doubt the authenticity of thisinformation concerning a Devonshire tutelar saint. Mr. Charles Butlerhas kindly communicated the researches of a Catholic clergyman, residingat Exeter, who having examined the voluminous registers of the See ofExeter, and numerous MSS. And records of the diocese, cannot trace thatany such saint was particularly honoured in the county. It is lamentablethat ingenious writers should invent fictions for authorities; but withthe hope that the present authors have not done this, I have preservedthis apocryphal tradition. ]

[Footnote 314: He was buried outside the church in the angle at thenorth-west corner, where the wall originally stood which bounded thechurchyard. ]

[Footnote 315: A monument was put up in the church in 1786 by asubscription among the parishioners. It exhibits a bust of Butler and arhyming inscription in very bad taste. ]

[Footnote 316: See Quarterly Review, vol. Viii. P. 111, where I foundthis quotation justly reprobated. ]

[Footnote 317: This work, published in 1795, is curious for thematerials the writer's reading has collected. ]

[Footnote 318: The case of King Charles the First truly stated againstJohn Cook, Master of Gray's Inn, in Butler's "Remains. "]

[Footnote 319: "Prospectus and specimen of an intended national work byWilliam and Robert Whistlecraft, of Stowmarket, in Suffolk; harness andcollar makers; intended to comprise the most interesting particularsrelating to King Arthur and his Round Table. " The real author of Mr. Whistlecraft's specimen was the Right Hon. J. Hookham Frere, who has themerit of having first introduced the Italian burlesque style into ourliterature. Lord Byron composed his "Beppo" confessedly after thisexample. "It is, " he writes, "a humorous poem; in, and after, theexcellent manner of Mr. Whistlecraft;" who published this "specimen"only, which was little read. ]

[Footnote 320: The original edition was printed in 1757 withoutengravings. They occur only in that which is described in our text. ]

[Footnote 321: I have usually found the School-Mistress printed withoutnumbering the stanzas; to enter into the present view it will benecessary for the reader to do this himself with a pencil-mark. ]

[Footnote 322: Long after this article was composed, Miss Aikinpublished her "Court of James the First. " That agreeable writer haswritten her popular volumes without wasting the bloom of life in thedust of libraries; and our female historian has not occasioned me toalter a single sentence in these researches. ]

[Footnote 323: Morant in the "Biographia Britannica. " This gross blunderhas been detected by Mr. Lodge. The other I submit to the reader'sjudgment. A contemporary letter-writer, alluding to the flight ofArabella and Seymour, which alarmed the Scottish so much more than theEnglish party, tells us, among other reasons of the little danger of thepolitical influence of the parties themselves over the people, that notonly their pretensions were far removed, but he adds, "They wereUNGRACEFUL both in their _persons_ and their _houses_. " Morant takes theterm UNGRACEFUL in its modern acceptation; but in the style of that day, I think UNGRACEFUL is opposed to GRACIOUS in the eyes of the people, meaning that their _persons_ and their _houses_ were not considerable tothe multitude. Would it not be absurd to apply _ungraceful_ in itsmodern sense to a _family_ or _house_? And had any political danger beenexpected, assuredly it would not have been diminished by the want of_personal grace_ in these lovers. I do not recollect any authority forthe sense of _ungraceful_ in opposition to _gracious_, but a criticaland literary antiquary has sanctioned my opinion. ]

[Footnote 324: "She was the only child of Charles Stuart, fifth earl ofLennox, by Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Cavendish of Hardwick, inDerbyshire, and is supposed to have been born in 1577. Her father, unhappily for her, was of the royal blood both of England and Scotland;for he was a younger brother of King Henry, father of James the Sixth, and great-grandson through his mother, who was daughter of Margaret, Queen of Scots, to our Henry the Seventh. " Such is Lodge's account of"this illustrious misfortune, " which made the life of a worthy ladywretched. ]

[Footnote 325: A circumstance which we discover by a Spanish memorial, when our James the First was negotiating with the cabinet of Madrid. Hecomplains of Elizabeth's treatment of him; that the queen refused togive him his father's estate in England, nor would deliver up hisuncle's daughter, Arabella, to be married to the Duke of Lennox, atwhich time the queen _uso palabras muy asperas y de mucho disprechiacontra el dicho Rey de ascocia;_ she used harsh words, expressing muchcontempt of the king. Winwood's Mem. I. 4. ]

[Footnote 326: See a very curious letter, the CCXCIX. Of Cardinald'Ossat, vol. V. The catholic interest expected to facilitate theconquest of England by joining their armies with those of "Arbelle;" andthe commentator writes that this English lady had a party, consisting ofall those English who had been the judges or the avowed enemies of Maryof Scotland, the mother of James the First. ]

[Footnote 327: Winwood's Memorials, iii. 281. ]

[Footnote 328: This manuscript letter from William, Earl of Pembroke, toGilbert Earl of Shrewsbury, is dated from Hampton Court, October 3, 1604. --_Sloane MSS. _ 4161. ]

[Footnote 329: Lodge's "Illustrations of British History, " iii. 286. Itis curious to observe, that this letter, by W. Fowler, is dated on thesame day as the manuscript letter I have just quoted, and it is directedto the same Earl of Shrewsbury; so that the Earl must have received, inone day, accounts of two different projects of marriage for his niece!This shows how much Arabella engaged the designs of foreigners andnatives. Will. Fowler was a rhyming and fantastical secretary to thequeen of James the First. ]

[Footnote 330: Two letters of Arabella, on distress of money, arepreserved by Ballard. The discovery of a _pension_ I made in Sir JuliusCæsar's manuscripts; where one is mentioned of 1600_l. _ to the LadyArabella. --_Sloane MSS_. 4160. Mr. Lodge has shown that the king oncegranted her the duty on oats. ]

[Footnote 331: Winwood's Memorials, vol. Iii. 117-119. ]

[Footnote 332: Winwood's Memorials, vol. Iii. 119. ]

[Footnote 333: This evidently alludes to the gentleman whose nameappears not, which occasioned Arabella to incur the king's displeasurebefore Christmas; the Lady Arabella, it is quite clear, was resolvedlybent on marrying herself!]

[Footnote 334: Harl. MSS. 7003. ]

[Footnote 335: It is on record that at Long-leat, the seat of theMarquis of Bath, certain papers of Arabella are preserved. I leave tothe noble owner the pleasure of the research. ]

[Footnote 336: Harl. MSS. 7003. ]

[Footnote 337: These particulars I derive from the manuscript lettersamong the papers of Arabella Stuart. Harl. MSS. 7003. ]

[Footnote 338: "This emphatic injunction, " observed a friend, "would beeffective when the messenger could read;" but in a letter written by theEarl of Essex about the year 1597, to the Lord High Admiral at Plymouth, I have seen added to the words "Hast, hast, hast, for lyfe!" theexpressive symbol of _a gallows prepared with a halter_, which could notbe well misunderstood by the most illiterate of Mercuries, thus

 -------- ¦ } ¦ ¦ { ¦ ¦ } ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦

[Footnote 339: Lodge says she "was remanded to the Tower, where she soonafterwards sank into helpless idiocy, surviving in that wretched statetill September, 1615, " when, with miserable mockery of state, she wasburied in Westminster Abbey, beside the body of Henry Prince of Wales. Bishop Corbet wrote some lines on her death, very indicative of the poorlady's thoughts:--

 How do I thank ye, death, and bless thy power, That I have passed the guard, and 'scaped the Tower! And now my pardon is my epitaph, And a small coffin my poor carcass hath; For at thy charge both soul and body were Enlarged at last, secur'd from hope and fear. That amongst saints, this amongst kings is laid; And what my birth did claim, my death hath paid. ]

[Footnote 340: This conjecture may not be vain; since this has beenwritten, I have heard that the papers of Sir Edward Coke are stillpreserved at Holkham, the seat of Mr. Coke; and I have also heard ofothers in the possession of a noble family. The late Mr. Roscoe told methat he was preparing a beautifully embellished catalogue of the Holkhamlibrary, in which the taste of the owner would rival his munificence. 

A list of those manuscripts to which I allude may be discovered in theLambeth MSS. No. 943, Art. 369, described in the catalogue as "A note ofsuch things as were found in a trunk of Sir Edward Coke's by the king'scommand, 1634, " but more particularly in Art. 371, "A Catalogue of SirEdward Coke's Papers then seized and brought to Whitehall. "]

[Footnote 341: Lloyd's State Worthies, art. _Sir Nicholas Bacon_. ]

[Footnote 342: Miss Aikin's Court of James the First appeared two yearsafter this article was written; it has occasioned no alteration. I referthe reader to her clear narrative, ii. P. 30, and p. 63; but secrethistory is rarely discovered in printed books. ]

[Footnote 343: These particulars I find in the manuscript letters of J. Chamberlain. Sloane MSS. 4172, (1616). In the quaint style of the times, the common speech ran, that Lord Coke had been overthrown by fourP's--PRIDE, Prohibitions, _Præmunire_, and Prerogative. It is only withhis moral quality, and not with his legal controversies, that hispersonal character is here concerned. ]

[Footnote 344: In the Lambeth manuscripts, 936, is a letter of LordBacon to the king, to prevent the match between Sir John Villiers andMrs. Coke. Art. 63. Another, Art. 69. The spirited and copious letter ofJames, "to the Lord Keeper, " is printed in "Letters, Speeches, Charges, &c. , of Francis Bacon, " by Dr. Birch, p. 133. ]

[Footnote 345: Stoke Pogis, in Buckinghamshire; the delightful seat ofJ. Penn, Esq. It was the scene of Gray's "Long Story, " and the chimneysof the ancient house still remain, to mark the locality; a column onwhich is fixed a statue of Coke, erected by Mr. Penn, consecrates theformer abode of its illustrious inhabitant. ]

[Footnote 346: A term then in use for base or mixed metal. ]

[Footnote 347: Lambeth MSS. 936, art. 69 and 73. ]

[Footnote 348: State Trials. ]

[Footnote 349: Prynne was condemned for his "Histriomastix, " a bookagainst actors and acting, in which he had indulged in severe remarks onfemale performers; and Henrietta Maria having frequently personatedparts in Court Masques, the offensive words were declared to have beenlevelled at her. He was condemned to fine and imprisonment, waspilloried at Westminster and Cheapside, and had an ear cut off at eachplace. ]

[Footnote 350: Prynne, who ultimately quarrelled with the Puritans, wasmade Keeper of the Records of the Tower by Charles the Second, who wasadvised thereto by men who did not know how else to keep "busy Mr. Prynne" out of political pamphleteering. He went to the work ofinvestigation with avidity, and it was while so employed that hefollowed the mode of life narrated in the preceding page. ]

[Footnote 351: I cannot subscribe to the opinion that Anthony Wood was adull man, although he had no particular liking for works of imagination;and used ordinary poets scurvily! An author's personal character isoften confounded with the nature of his work. Anthony has sallies attimes to which a dull man could not be subject; without the ardour ofthis hermit of literature where would be our literary history?]

[Footnote 352: These two catalogues have always been of extreme rarityand price. Dr. Lister, when at Paris, 1668, notices this circumstance. Ihave since met with them in the very curious collections of my friend, Mr. Douce, who has uniques, as well as rarities. The monograms of ourold masters in one of these catalogues are more correct than in somelater publications; and the whole plan and arrangement of thesecatalogues of prints are peculiar and interesting. ]