The Gallery of Portraits: with Memoirs. Volume 4 (of 7) (2024)

PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES
CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME.

1.The paging of Part XXVII. has accidentally been repeated in Part XXVIII.

1

DAGUESSEAU.

The Chancellor Daguesseau is said to have been descended from anoble family of the province of Saintonge; if so, he was careless ofhis privileges, for he never used between the two first letters of hisname the comma, indicative of noble birth. He came however ofdistinguished parentage; for his grandfather had been First Presidentof the Parliament of Bordeaux, and his father was appointed, byColbert, Intendant of the Limousin, and subsequently advanced to theIntendancies of Bordeaux and of Languedoc. In the latter governmenthe suggested to Colbert the grand idea of uniting the Ocean and theMediterranean by means of that mighty work, the Canal of Languedoc.In the persecution raised against the Protestants of the Southof France by Louis XIV., he was distinguished by mildness; and tohis honour be it remembered, one person only perished under his jurisdiction.Disgusted by the dragonnades, and by the revocation of theEdict of Nantes, he resigned his Intendancy, and removed to Paris,where he continued to enjoy the royal favour, and to be employed inoffices of trust: so that he may be said not only to have formed hisson’s youth, but to have watched over his manhood.

That son, Henry François Daguesseau, was born at Limoges,November 7, 1668. In 1690, he was appointed King’s Advocate inthe Court of the Chatelet, and soon after, at his father’s recommendation,Advocate-General in the Parliament of Paris. On hearingthe wisdom of so young a choice brought into question, the kingobserved, that “the father was incapable of deceit, even in favourof his son.” So brilliantly did the young lawyer acquit himself in hischarge, that Denis Talas, one of the chief of the magistracy, expressedthe wish, “that he might finish as Daguesseau had begun.”2The law-officers of that day did not confine themselves to a mere dryfulfilment of legal functions; there was a traditional taste, a love ofpolite and classic literature, a cultivation of poetry and eloquence, onwhich the jurists prided themselves, and which prompted them to seizeevery opportunity of rivalling the ecclesiastical orators and politewriters of the age. Thus, at the opening of each session, the Avocat-Généralpronounced an inaugurative discourse, which treated rather ofpoints of high morality than law. Daguesseau acquired great famefrom these effusions of eloquence. Their titles bespeak what theywere: they treat of the Independence of the Advocate; the Knowledgeof Man; of Magnanimity; of the Censorship. “The highestprofessions are the most dependent,” exclaimed Daguesseau on one ofthose occasions; “he whom the grandeur of his office elevates overother men, soon finds that the first hour of his dignity is the last of hisindependence.” These generous sentiments are strongly contrastedwith the despotism of the government and the general servility of theage.

In 1700, Daguesseau was appointed Procureur-General, in whichcapacity he was obliged to form decisions on the gravest questions ofstate. A learned Memoir, drawn up by him in the year 1700, toprove that no ecclesiastics, not even cardinals, had a right to beexempt from royal jurisdiction, shows his mind already imbued withthat jealousy of Papal supremacy which afterwards distinguished him.But his occupations were not confined to legal functions, the administrationof that day being accustomed to have recourse, in all difficultand momentous questions, to the wisdom and authority of themagistracy. Thus Daguesseau was enabled, by directing his attentionto the state of the hospitals, to remedy the enormous abuses practisedin them, and to remodel these charitable institutions upon a newand philanthropic system. In the terrible famine of 1709, he wasappointed one of the commission to inquire into the distresses of thetime. He was the first to foresee the famine ere it arrived, and torecommend the fittest measures for obviating the misery which itmenaced.

There existed, at that time, few questions on which a Frenchstatesman or magistrate found himself in opposition to the sovereign.Constitutional political liberty was unknown; and even freedom of consciencehad been violated by the persecuting edicts of Louis XIV.The magistracy had allowed the Protestants to be crushed, awed bythe fear of being considered favourers of rebellion. The legal and thelettered class of French, however they had abandoned the great cause3of Reform, exaggerated as it had been by Calvin, were neverthelessstill unprepared to submit to the spiritual despotism of Rome. Theydid not presume to question fundamental doctrines of faith; but theyrejected the interference of the Pope in matters of ecclesiastical government,and their claim to independence was sanctioned by the ancientprivileges of the Gallican Church. And they were resolutely opposedto the faithless and insidious doctrines of the Jesuits, who sought tomake the rule of conscience subordinate to the dictation of the priesthood.These two grounds of opposition to Rome and to the Jesuitsconstituted the better part of Jansenism. Louis XIV., in his lateryears, commenced a crusade against this species of resistance to hisroyal will; and, amongst other acts of repression, he procured a Bullfrom Rome, called Unigenitus, from its first word, which condemnedthe combined opposition of the Gallican clergy and the anti-Jesuitmoralist. In order to be binding upon the French, it was necessarythat it should be registered in Parliament. The consent of the greatlegal officers was requisite, and they were accordingly summoned beforeLouis XIV. The First President and the Advocate-General hadalready been won over to the court. The independent character ofDaguesseau was the only obstacle; and they had hopes that he mightbe induced to yield, from the known mildness of his disposition. Hisparting from his wife on this occasion is recorded both by Duclos andSt. Simon: “Go,” said she, as she embraced him; “when beforethe king, forget wife and children: sacrifice all but honour.” Daguesseauacted by the noble counsel, and remained immoveable, thoughthreatened by his despotic master with the loss of his place. The deathof Louis XIV., in 1715, soon relieved Daguesseau from the difficultyof his position.

On the establishment of the Regency, the administration was reorganizedon a different plan, each department being intrusted to acouncil. Daguesseau was appointed member of the Council of Conscience,being, in fact, the ecclesiastical department. He proposedthe immediate banishment of the Jesuits from the kingdom; but thismeasure he was unable to compass. In February, 1717, a vacancyoccurred in the office of Chancellor, and the Regent immediately sentfor Daguesseau, who was at mass in his parish church, and refused tocome until he was twice sent for. When he arrived, the Regent exclaimedto the company, “Here is a new and very worthy Chancellor!”and carrying him to the Tuileries in his coach, made the youngking present him with the box of seals. Daguesseau escaped fromthe crowd to acquaint his brother with his good fortune: “I had4rather it was you than I,” exclaimed the latter, continuing to smokehis pipe.

The Regent, however, did not long remain satisfied with his choice,which had been made from a generous impulse of the moment.During the last years of Louis the Fourteenth’s reign, there had beena confusion of parties and of opinions, which were almost all unitedagainst the bigotry and despotism of the monarch’s dotage. Thegrandee and the magistrate displayed equal discontent, and joined incommon protestations. On the demise of the monarch, however, thisunion disappeared. The grandee hoped to see that aristocratic influencerestored, which had been suspended since the wars of the Fronde.The magistracy did not favour this idea, being of opinion that theParliament was the fittest council and check to the authority of thecrown. Daguesseau of course inclined to the magistracy, in whoseinterest he laboured, in conjunction with the Duc de Noailles, to rootout the Jesuits, and deprive the church of ultra-montane support. TheDuc de St. Simon was of the opposite opinion. He was the partisanof an aristocratic government, and he defended the church, and eventhe Jesuits, as useful allies. These discordant views led to bickeringsin the council. St. Simon accused some magistrates of malpractices.The Chancellor sought, more than was just, to screen them. He obtaineda rule, about the same time, that all the members of the GreatCouncil, consisting chiefly of magistrates, should be rendered noble bytheir office, another offence to the nobility of birth. The Regent, atfirst inclined to be neutral, soon leaned to the noblesse. The Parliamentthwarted him, and showed symptoms of an intention to supporthis rival the Duke of Maine, the illegitimate son of Louis XIV. Thedifference between the Regent and the magistracy was widened intoa breach by the scheme of Law, and by the advancement of thatforeigner to influence in political and financial affairs, which hadhitherto been chiefly in the hands of the magistracy. The legistslooked upon Law as an intruder, and regarded his acts as audaciousinnovations. Their remonstrances accordingly grew louder and louder,and their opposition more bold, until the Regent began to fear the renewalof the scenes of the Fronde. The Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retzwere then published for the first time; and their perusal, filling thepublic mind, excited it strongly to renew the scenes and the strugglewhich they described. The Chancellor’s true office, as a minister,had been to manage the Parliament, to cajole, to persuade, to menace,to repress; but the task suited neither the character nor the principlesof Daguesseau, and accordingly nothing but censure of him was heard5at court. He was weak, he was irresolute, and lawyers were declaredto make very bad statesmen. “They might have reproached theChancellor with indecision,” says Duclos, “but what annoyed themmost was his virtue.”

On the 26th of January, 1718, the seals were re-demanded of himand given to D’Argenson, the famous lieutenant of police. Daguesseauwas exiled to his country-house at Fresnes. Whilst in retirementhe occupied his time chiefly in the education of his children.His letters to them on the subject of their classical and mathematicalstudies, lately given to the public, bear witness to his simple andliterary bent of mind. Happy it was for Daguesseau to have beenremoved from the troublesome scene of public life during the twoyears of Law’s triumph and the disgrace of the magistracy. WhenLaw’s scheme exploded, amidst the ruin and execration of thousands,the Regent, not knowing whither to turn for counsel and support,resolved at least to give some indication of returning honesty by the recallof Daguesseau, who resumed the seals with a facility that was censuredby many. Law was deprived of the place of Comptroller-Generalof Finance, though continued in the management of the Bank and theIndia Company. In his place certain of the Parliament were admittedto the Councils of Finance, so that Daguesseau seemed to havehad full security against the continuance of that infamous jobbing bywhich the public credit had been destroyed. He was disappointed.The Place Vendôme, in front of his abode, being the exchange of theday, was crowded by purchasers and venders of stock; until the Chancellor,unable to suppress the nuisance, caused it to be removed elsewhere.

The reconciliation between the government and Parliament, producedby Daguesseau’s return, did not last long; and Law havingsent an edict respecting the India Company for that body to register,a tumult occurred while they were debating on it, in which the obnoxiousfinancier was torn to pieces. Elated by the news, the Parliamentrejected the edict, and hurried from the hall to assure themselvesof the fate of Law, who was the great object of their odium.The Regent took fire at this mark of their contempt for his authority,and resolved to exile the Parliament to Blois. Daguesseau himselfcould not excuse their precipitancy; he obtained, however, that theplace of exile should not be Blois, but Pontoise, within a few leaguesof Paris.

In addition to these causes of quarrel, another matter occurred towiden the breach between the court and the Parliament, and to place6Daguesseau, who stood between them, in a position of still greaterdifficulty. This was the old question of the bull Unigenitus, theacceptance of which the prime minister Dubois was labouring to procure,as the condition on which he was to receive a Cardinal’s hatfrom the court of Rome. The Regent, who had at first supported theJansenists, or Parliamentary party, was now disgusted at not findingin them the gratitude which he had hoped. “Hitherto,” said he,“I have given every thing to grace, and nothing to good works.”He leaned, in consequence, to the other party; and it was resolvedto obtain the acceptance of the bull, or Constitution, as it was called,in the Great Council. The Great Council was a court of magistratesacting somewhat like the English Privy Council, or present FrenchConseil d’Etat, and pronouncing judgment on points where the crownor government was concerned. It was the rival of the Parliament, inthe place of which Dubois proposed to substitute it as a high court ofjudicature; an idea acted upon at a later period of French history.The Regent, attended by his court and officers, went to the GreatCouncil, and enforced the acceptance of the bull. Daguesseau attendedas Chancellor, and by his presence seemed to countenance thisact, which forms the great reproach, or blot of his life. He is reported,on this occasion, to have asked a young councillor, who was loud inopposition, “Where he had found these objections?” “In the pleadingsof the late Chancellor Daguesseau,” was the keen retort. Theconduct of Daguesseau admits, however, of excuse. The bull hadbeen already registered, under conditions, by the Parliament in thereign of Louis XIV.; and the present agitation of the question beingrather to satisfy the Pope than make any real alteration in the law.Daguesseau was for making every concession of form, and some realsacrifices, to avoid further extremities or hostilities against the Parliament.He hoped, indeed, that registration by the Great Council mightspare the Parliament further trouble on the subject. But the Cardinalde Noailles, the head of the Jansenist party, continued to protest;and the Regent, concluding that he was incited by the Parliament,re-determined to extend the exile of that body from Pontoise to Blois.Daguesseau learning this, seeing his concessions of no effect, and thatextreme measures were intended against the Parliament, came instantlyto offer his resignation. The Regent, in answer, bade himwait a few days; and the Cardinal having desisted from his extremeopposition, at length he was satisfied. The Parliament was recalled,and Law finally disgraced, a point gained from Dubois, no doubt, asthe price of moderation in the affair of this bull.

7The Regent and Dubois had now both made all the use theyrequired of Daguesseau’s presence in the ministry; and both wereanxious to get rid of a personage so little in harmony with theirpolitics or morals. Nevertheless, the Regent felt his obligationsas well as the respect due to the Chancellor, and evinced them in amanner peculiar to himself. A person of some rank and influence hadproposed for the daughter of Daguesseau, allured perhaps by the hopeof being allied to a minister. The Regent learning this, determinedto defer the Chancellor’s disgrace, lest it might prevent the match.When Daguesseau’s future son-in-law went to ask the Regent, as iscustomary in France, for his sanction to the marriage, the latter,while granting it, turned to those near him, and remarked, in astyle usual with him, “Here is a gentleman about to turn fishmongerat the end of Lent,” thus intimating the Chancellor’s approachingdownfall. Daguesseau had irritated Dubois by joining the Dukes andMarshals, who retired from the council table rather than yield precedenceto the minister who, in his new rank of Cardinal, pretendedto this honour. The seals were again taken from him in February,1722, and he returned to his estate at Fresnes.

Again resuming the volume of his private letters, as the onlyhistory of his years of retirement, we find Daguesseau occupied withthe progress of his son at the bar, and in the functions of Advocate-General.At the epoch of the Duke of Orleans’ death, and the accessionof the Duke of Bourbon to the ministry, there were evident intentionsof recalling Daguesseau. Recourse was had to his advice insome affairs, but he refused to take cognizance of them in a positionwhere his word might be misrepresented. In short, he refused to takeany part in political affairs without, at the same time, “having theear of the prince,” thus positively refusing to act any subordinate part.These overtures were made at the commencement of 1725. “Whatyou must avoid of all things,” he writes to his son, “is to do anything that might afford cause of imagining that conditions are askedof me as the price of my return, or that I engage myself in any party.”The son was, nevertheless, anxious for the return of his father to power,and, on one occasion, entreats him to open his mansion to Mademoisellede Clermont, sister of the Duke of Bourbon, who was travelling nearFresnes; but Daguesseau refused to pay any such expensive compliments,even to the sister of the minister.

At length, in August, 1727, not very long after the installation ofCardinal Fleury in the office of Prime Minister, Daguesseau was recalled.At the same time the seals were not given back to him, but8intrusted to Chauvelin as Lord Keeper. The Parliament wishedto make some resistance on this point, but Daguesseau, who, as hegrew in years, seems to have grown also in reverence for the royalauthority, dissuaded and silenced them. Even before his restorationto power, his advice to his son marks strongly the moderation of hisviews. “Never push the government to extremes,” writes he (LettresInédites, p. 254). “We should all feel the great distance that existsbetween a king and his subjects. Moderation is the most efficacious.If the Parliament take too strong a resolution, it will but justify therigour of the government.” We no longer recognize here the boldman who withstood the threats of Louis XIV.

His character for consistency and principle suffered in consequence.In 1732, the old quarrel of ultra-montanism and Jesuits was renewedwith great animosity. Some bishops and ecclesiastics resisted thePapal Bull. Those who suffered for their opposition appealed tothe Parliament, who, as of old, upheld liberty of conscience, and,in connexion with it, personal freedom. Daguesseau sought to actas moderator, to calm at once the resistance of the Parliament andthe rigour of the court. He was obliged, in consequence, to makehimself party to some of the complaints of the one, and to someacts of persecution on the part of the other. Four of the moreviolent young counsellors were exiled. The high personal characterof the Chancellor alone enabled him to bear up against the obloquyand reproach that were directed against him from both sides; but fortunatelythe storm was of short duration, for the menaces of foreignwar drowned the voices of ecclesiastical and legal disputants. On thedisgrace of Chauvelin, in 1737, the seals were returned to Daguesseau,who thus once more reunited in his person all the functions andhonours of his place. He kept them until the year 1750, when, feelingthat his infirmities rendered him incapable of performing his duty,he resigned. At the King’s request, he retained the titular dignity ofChancellor until his death, February 9, 1751.

It is hard, in a brief and popular memoir, to assign reasons for thehigh reputation enjoyed by Daguesseau. His celebrity is rather traditionalthan historical; it can be appreciated only by those skilled inthe science and history of French law, by those who are acquaintedwith the great and innumerable ameliorations wrought in the systemof law and legal proceeding by his assiduity and talents. Indeed thatpart of his career, which is necessarily most prominent in history, theshare which he took in politics and administration, was by far the leasthonourable. Renowned as a pleader, his very talents in this respect9are said to have unfitted him for judicial functions. “Long habits ofthe parquet (the office of the Attorney-General) had perverted histalents. The practice is there to collect, to examine, to weigh, andcompare the reasons of two different parties; to display, in differentbalances, their various arguments, with all the grace and flowers ofeloquence, omitting nothing on either side, so that no one could perceiveto which side the Advocate-General leaned. The continual habitof this during twenty-four years, joined to the natural scruples of aconscientious man, and the ever-starting points and objections of thelearned one, had moulded him into a character of incertitude, out ofwhich he could never escape. To decide was an accouchement withhim, so painful was it.” From this account by St. Simon, we learnhow honourable and impartial was the office of the public accuser inthe old French courts; and that he blended with his functions the highimpartiality of the judge; a characteristic that the office has sincelost, in that court at least. It also explains the Chancellor’s indecision,and his failure as a judge. Whatever were his defects as adecider of causes, he made amends by his talents as a legislator andan organizer of jurisprudence. To this, indeed, he gave himself up inhis latter years almost exclusively, declining to meddle more withpolitics, and devoting himself to ameliorate the laws and the forms ofprocedure. It is on this subject that it is difficult to explain his meritsto the reader. One of the first objects of his attention was to separatethe functions of the Grand Council from those of the Parliament.When he resumed the seals in 1737, he suppressed the Judges andPresidents of the former court, to do away with its pretensions ofusurping the place of the Parliament. He at the same time collectedand remodelled the law of appeals, and regulated the respective jurisdictionof different courts; and we learn from Isambert, that theOrdonnance issued by him at this period still serves as the rule oflaw procedure before the Court of Cassation and the Council of State.The law for repressing forgery formed the subject of another longOrdonnance. The next legal subject of importance that absorbed theattention of Daguesseau was that of Entails. This forms the subjectof a voluminous Ordonnance, bearing date August, 1747. One of itsclauses nullifies entails extending beyond two degrees, not includingthe testator. An Ordonnance, signed May, 1749, not enough attendedto, establishes a sinking fund for paying the debts of the state, andthe levy of a twentieth to constitute it. The question of Mortmain isthe subject of an Edict in the same year. Wills form another sourceof legal difficulties which Daguesseau sought to simplify or remove.

10The character of Daguesseau has been drawn minutely, and atgreat length, by one of the most penetrating of his contemporaries,who sat at the council board with him, and was his most decidedpolitical enemy. Nevertheless, we need go no farther than thisvery writer, the Duc de St. Simon, for a record of the Chancellor’svirtues and genius:—“An infinity of talent, assiduity, penetration,knowledge of all kinds, all the gravity of a magistrate, piety and innocenceof morals, formed the foundation of his character. He mightbe considered incorruptible (St. Simon makes an exception); andwith all this, mild, good, humane, of ready and agreeable access, fullof gaiety, and poignant pleasantry, without ever hurting; temperate,polished without pride, noble without a stain of avarice. Who wouldnot imagine that such a man would have made an admirable Chancellor?Yet in this he disappointed the world.” His faults, accordingto the same writer, were indecision as a judge, and too high arespect for the Parliament and the legal profession, to which St. Simonasserts he sacrificed the royal authority. In this the aristocraticwriter is mistaken. Daguesseau compromised too much for theindependence of Parliament; it is among his faults. “He was theslave of the most precise purity of diction, not perceiving how excessof care rendered him obscure and unintelligible. His taste forscience added to his other defects. He was fond of languages, especiallythe learned ones, and took infinite delight in physics and mathematics;nor did he even let metaphysics alone: in fact, it was forscience that he was born. He would, indeed, have made an excellentFirst President, Chief Judge of Parliament; but he would have beenbest placed of all at the head of the literature of the country, of theAcademies, the Observatory, the Royal College, the Libraries; therehis tediousness would have incommoded no one, &c.” In short, theDuke, in his scheme of restoring the aristocracy to exclusive influence,found the Chancellor in his way, and wished him out of it. He tellsus that Daguesseau was of middling stature, with a full and agreeablecountenance, even to the last expressive of wisdom and of wit.

11

CROMWELL.

There have been few men known to history, who can be worthilycompared with the subject of these pages for the extraordinary circ*mstancesof their rise to power, or for their prudence and greatnessin its enjoyment. We see in him a man of middle rank and moderatefortune, breaking out from privacy, if not obscurity, at a time oflife when the fame of most men is at its meridian, of many at itsclose, and in a very few years raising himself to absolute power on theshoulders of his friends and on the necks of his enemies; and thoughwe censure both the end of his political labours and the measureswhich led the way to it, yet in both there is much left for us to respectand to admire.

Oliver, the only son of Robert Cromwell and Elizabeth Stuart (thedaughter of a knightly family in the Isle of Ely, said to have beenrelated to the royal house), was born at Huntingdon, April 24, 1599.His grandfather, Sir Henry Cromwell, was four times Sheriff of thecounties of Cambridge and Huntingdon; his uncle, Sir Oliver Cromwell,after whom he was named, was reputed to be the richest knightin England; and his family was related to the Earls of Essex, and tothe houses of Hampden, St. John, and Barrington. It is necessary tomention the respectability of Cromwell’s connexions, because he isreported to have been a man of mean birth, by persons who vainlythought to fix a stigma on his great name by assigning to him a loworigin.

After having received a good school education he was sent, at theage of seventeen, to Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. He did notremain there long enough to complete his studies, but, leaving theUniversity before the usual time, was entered at Lincoln’s Inn. His12enemies accuse him of having been guilty of all manner of debaucheries,both at college and as a student of law; but as we know that hiswhole life, from the age of twenty-one, was severely moral, this accusationmay be allowed to rest with the obscure memories of its authors.His father dying when Oliver had attained the age of twenty, he leftLondon, and went to reside with his mother, who eked out her smalljointure with the profits of a brewery which she had established, andconducted herself: hence came the contemptuous appellation, oftenbestowed upon Cromwell, of the “brewer of Huntingdon.” At theage of twenty-one he married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir James Bourchier,of the county of Essex. At this period of his life he was involvedin some pecuniary difficulties, from which he was relieved bythe death of his maternal uncle Sir Thomas Stuart, who bequeathedhim an estate of between four and five hundred pounds yearly valuein the isle of Ely, on which he took up his residence. Some of hisbiographers declare, “that because he prayed and expounded theword too much, and caused his servants to do the like,” he becameagain straitened in his circ*mstances. This has been the more readilybelieved, because he at this time became highly disgusted with thewant of liberty of conscience in his own land, and had, in consequence,determined to exile himself to New England, along with his friend andcousin Hampden. He was actually embarked, when an order fromthe Privy Council, disallowing emigration without special license fromthe crown, put a stop to his voyage. He returned to his county, andwas soon after elected by the burgesses of the town of Cambridge toserve them in the House of Commons. One of the first notices wehave of his taking an active share in public business was his determinedopposition to a plan, originated by the Earl of Bedford, andsupported by government, for the drainage of the fens. His objectionto this scheme was entirely of a political nature, since, during hisProtectorate, it became a measure of his own. Hampden foretold hisfuture rise from his vigorous conduct in this matter:—“He was a manwho would sit well at the mark.” Cromwell was not, properly socalled, an eloquent man. His ordinary speeches were rambling, verbose,and inelegant; but when he wished to make his purpose clear,his style was close, bold, and manly.

In the memorable year 1640, Cromwell was returned by the sameborough to serve in the famous LONG PARLIAMENT,—the last Parliamentof Charles the First. It was unfortunate for this prince that hefell on such times and such men. He came to the throne with hisfather’s overweening belief in the sacredness of kingly prerogative,13and with the same obstinate notions concerning unity of creed andworship in matters of religion. The consequence of the first of theseinherited feelings was his introduction, or rather enforcement, ofunconstitutional modes of raising money, and distributing justice,beyond the patience of an age newly escaped from the thraldom offeudal restrictions; the effect of the latter was also past the enduranceof a nation jealous of its lately-acquired and highly-prized religiousliberty. In the struggle between the prince and the people, whichthese causes produced, Cromwell was among the foremost. He wasone of seventy-five gentlemen who offered to raise each a troop ofsixty horse in the service of the Parliament. This was the beginningof the military career which afterwards proved so glorious. He tookgreat pains in the formation of his levies. This appears from hisexpostulation with Hampden, recorded by himself. “Your troops,said I, are most of them old decayed serving men and tapsters, andsuch kind of fellows, and their’s are gentlemen’s younger sons, andpersons of good quality. And do you think that the mean spirits ofsuch base and mean fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlementhat have honour, and courage, and resolution in them? You mustget men of a spirit, and take it not ill what I say, of a spirit that islikely to go as far as gentlemen will go, or else I am sure you will bebeaten still: I told him so. He was a wise and worthy person, andhe did think that I talked a good notion, but an impracticable one.I told him I could do somewhat in it; and I accordingly raised suchmen as had the fear of God before them, and made some conscienceof what they did. And from that day forward they were never beaten;but, whenever they were engaged against the enemy, they beat continually.”It is probable that to this choice of his recruits, Cromwellowed much of his military success and his political fortune. Beingdesirous of proving their courage, he chose from among their numbera few that he could put confidence in, and ordered them to liein ambush on his route; then, at a preconcerted signal, they rushedfrom their hiding place as if to charge the rest of the troop, upon whichthe poltroons of the company fled, and, finding their mistake too late,were glad to sneak home and leave their saddles to be filled by bettermen. After this trial the ‘Ironsides’ of Cromwell never shrunk fromthe enemy, and gradually the whole army was formed on the samemodel.

One of Cromwell’s first military services was the securing thetown and county of Cambridge to the Parliamentary interest. Hetreated the University, several colleges of which had transmitted plate14and money for the king’s use, with severity, arresting some of its principalmembers. Then passing through the county he disarmed thecavalier gentlemen, taking care not to provoke enmity by personalviolence. An anecdote may here be mentioned illustrative of Cromwell’speculiar character. While on this expedition, in the Isle ofEly, he visited his uncle Sir Oliver, who was a staunch royalist.Having surrounded the house with his troop he entered, hat in hand,nor could he be prevailed on either to cover his head or to sit down inhis uncle’s presence; but having begged his blessing, and besoughthim to set what he did to the account of strict performance of hisduty, he departed, carrying with him the various weapons that thehouse contained, as well as all the plate and valuables.

From this time, as the cause of the commonwealth prospered,Cromwell rose rapidly in the army, soon becoming the real head of it,though nominally the second in command. When the House of Commonsentered into the agreement called the self-denying ordinance,for the separation of civil and military offices, Cromwell, along withsome few others, still contrived to keep both his seat in the House andhis command in the army. It seems to have been a resolution of hisnever to give up an authority once obtained.

The first battle in which he distinguished himself particularly wasthat of Marston Moor, fought July 2, 1644. The parliamentary forceswere driven back on one side, and even their centre wavered underthe furious attack of the cavaliers; but Oliver completely changedthe fortune of the day by charging, at a critical period of the battle,with his sword-arm in a sling, and “driving the enemy from before himlike chaff before the whirlwind.” Throughout the war he fought nobattle in which he was beaten. But while he was thus earnest inforwarding the cause in which he was engaged in the field, he did notforget to fight his private battles with fearful and envious enemies, whowere alarmed at his growing power. A plot between the Lord GeneralEssex, the Scots Commissioners, and others, was laid against him,which would have proved the ruin of most men, but by his managementand decision was crushed before it had fully ripened. He wasan Independent, and as such took the covenant between the Scotchand English with great reluctance. “He was a free soul in mattersof faith and worship, and was desirous, before all things, that menshould be allowed to serve God in their own fashion, and not bebound down to generally-established forms.”

After the loss of the decisive battle of Naseby, fought June 14, 1645,the king was glad to trust himself to any party that might be willing to15receive him, rather than throw himself into the hands of the two Houses.Accordingly, he sought refuge in the Scottish camp at Newark, and theScotch rewarded his confidence by selling him to the Parliament. ThePresbyterians, who formed the majority of that assembly, hoped thatthey could now dispense with the army, of which they began to be afraid.This caused great discontent. A system of agitation was instituted, atwhich Cromwell connived; and the troops became rebellious to theiremployers, though they remained faithful to their leaders who seemedto have no concern in the matter. Skippon, Cromwell, Ireton, andFleetwood were sent down by the Parliament to conciliate them, inwhich they were partially successful. Nevertheless the army marchedtowards London for the purpose of intimidating the Houses into a concessionto their wishes. After this matter was concluded, the Parliament(of which at that time the majority was Presbyterian) thought fit toinvite the king to Richmond, and, having agreed to their proposal, hewas shortly after removed to Hampton Court, where he was kept inan honourable captivity. Being now in the power of the army, heentered into treaties both with it and with the Parliament concerninghis restoration, contriving, at the same time, to play both parties false.From this period the ambition of Oliver Cromwell to govern the statewithout a rival or master may be safely dated. He knew and felt thathe was, in power and capacity, the first man in his country. He hadrisen to that height by his own individual exertions; and, perhapsperceiving that the communications of Charles with the Long Parliamentmight be brought to an amicable close destructive of his ownpower, he determined on the bold strokes which followed. He accordinglycontrived to entrap the king into a flight from Hampton Court tothe Isle of Wight, where he was placed under the care of Hammond,Governor of Carisbrook Castle. While at this place Charles kept uphis correspondence with the Parliamentary and Scottish Commissioners,and also with those of the army. He moreover intrigued with the Irishparty and with foreign courts for assistance. He planned an unsuccessfulescape from his prison; and, to fill up the measure of distrustof him on the part of Cromwell, it was asserted that his interceptedletters to the queen hinted, in no obscure terms, at the expediency ofremoving the general by the method of private assassination. It becameclear that there could be no hope of a cordial reconcilement or cooperationbetween them; and Cromwell from this time became theking’s most vigorous enemy, and spared no pains to bring him to thescaffold. The rest is well known. The king was brought to London,and refusing to plead his cause, or acknowledge the authority of his16judges, was condemned and executed, January 30, 1649. Upon thisthe House of Commons declared the House of Peers to be useless, andthat monarchy in England was at an end.

Soon after this another and a more dangerous mutiny broke out inthe army, which was speedily quelled by the decision of Cromwelland the authority of Fairfax. The former was then appointed to servein Ireland against Ormond and his supporters, who were in arms forthe young king. As his presence was almost necessary in England,he resolved to perform this duty with vigour. At that time theCommonwealth had to bear the brunt of insurrections at home, theimpending likelihood of a Scotch war, and the cabals of its own members.The case was urgent, and his measures were stern, arbitrary,and severe. Wanton cruelty does not appear to have been a part ofCromwell’s character; yet neither does the plea of a bold and unscrupulouspolicy excuse the wholesale slaughters perpetrated in thatunhappy island. At the reductions of Drogheda, Wexford, Kilkenny,and Clonmel, both the avowed defenders and the citizens wereslaughtered without quarter. Cromwell says, in his dispatch afterthe first of these sieges, “that the enemy was filled with much terrorat this issue, and that he was persuaded that the bitterness used onthis occasion would prevent much effusion of blood.” He added to hisseverities this kindness:—a proclamation was issued, “that no soldiershould on pain of death take any thing from the inhabitants of conqueredIreland without paying for it, and that all should have thepeaceable exercise of their religion.” In ten months’ time Cromwellwas again in his seat in Parliament, having brought that country intocomplete subjection: a subjection bought with much blood and suffering,yet alleged by him to be better than a harassing and long-continuedwarfare. Lord Broghil, whom he had won over by his judiciouskindness from the royalist party, was of great service to him inthis campaign. He was a man of sound and temperate character, andseems to have been one of Oliver’s most faithful friends.

On his return to England he found that much remained to be done.Fairfax, as Commander-in-Chief, and Cromwell were almost immediatelyordered into Scotland to stop the progress of the young CharlesStuart in that country. The Lord-General being unwilling to fightagainst his friends the Presbyterians, resigned his command, andCromwell was immediately appointed Commander-in-Chief of all theEnglish army. He prepared for service with the utmost dispatch, andmarched directly to Edinburgh. Thence he fell back upon Musselburgh,the Scotch Presbyterian army being close at hand. Both17parties attempted to reduce the other to extremity by want of provisions,and Cromwell made a retreat on Dunbar for the purpose ofsupplying his troops from the sea. His army consisted of ten thousandmen; the Scotch of more than twice that number. For some time theParliamentary army continued in a state of blockade, but by skilfulmanœuvring Cromwell at last induced the enemy to come down intothe plain and risk the issue of a pitched battle. The moment that,looking through his glass, he saw them move, he said, “I profess theyrun: the Lord hath delivered them into our hands!” The Scotch werebeaten with tremendous slaughter. This failure for a time seemed tohave done Charles more good than harm: for it freed him from theheavy yoke of the Presbyterians, and his cause became more generallypopular on that account. Another and a better army was soon collectedon his behalf. Oliver allowed this second host to make a descentupon England; but following it, and harassing its rear, and gatheringto himself fresh troops in his course, he finally came up with Charlesat Worcester, and gained what he called, in his letter to the Parliament,“the crowning victory.” After this he returned to London,almost adored by the inhabitants of every place in his progress, andwelcomed at the end of it by the sincere and earnest praises of hismasters, fated soon to become his subjects.

The remainder of the Long Parliament, although sneered at andhated, were the flower of the patriots, whose energy had begun andcontinued the contest, and well they supported the character of ablerulers to the end of their domination: but their time was come.Cromwell, finding himself in reality the most powerful man in hiscountry, was desirous of putting the key-stone to the structure of hisambitious fortunes. Without notice of his intention, he closed up theavenues of the House of Commons, surrounded it with his soldiers,and, entering the House, upbraided the members severally with theiringratitude, besides launching at them other idle charges of a personalkind: then stamping with his foot, the signal for his soldiers whowere in the lobby, “Let them come in,” he cried, and they entered.At his command they took away the mace, and forcibly removed theSpeaker from his chair. Then, turning out the members, Cromwellshut up the doors, and declared the Parliament at an end. Havingcompleted this extraordinary performance, he is said to have put thekey into his pocket, and walked quietly away to his lodgings atWhitehall. After this he issued a commission for calling together anew Parliament, which proved equally unfavourable to his views ofgovernment, but finally resigned its powers into his hands.

18On December 16, 1653, he was installed Protector of England,Scotland, and Ireland, not daring to accept the proffered title of“King,” as it was opposed to the feelings and opinions of his mostpowerful friends. The first act of his reign was to make peace onhonourable and advantageous terms with the Dutch: soon after hebroke off a treaty with Spain, and entered into an agreement withFrance. In these transactions he was blamed by some, but hisgenius was of a stamp not to be lightly judged. The Spanish warwas conducted under the captainship of Admiral Blake, whose namewill ever stand in the first rank of the prudent, the daring, and thefree. Judgment in the choice of men was one of Cromwell’s mostpeculiar talents: witness the names of Milton, Hale, and Ludlow, ofIreton, Blake, Monk, and Henry Cromwell; with a crowd of lessermen, all exactly suited to the stations in which he placed them.He concluded peace with Denmark and Sweden, dictated advantageousterms of reconciliation and alliance to Portugal, and causedthe name and flag of England to be respected throughout Europeduring his Protectorate. His court was grave and orderly; and as it isplain, from several passages of history, that he would willingly with thepower have assumed the name and ensigns of a king, so in his modeof life he adopted something not far short of kingly state. Afterhaving tried to govern England by the unpopular Major-Generals ofDistricts, and by the constitutional method of Parliaments, his onlyobstacle to success seeming to be the want of the name and hereditarystrength of royalty; after having passed through many private dangersand public difficulties, Cromwell called a third and last Parliament,and instituted a House of Peers; but before they ever met in Parliament,the Protector was seized with a quartan ague, which, after a few weeks’illness, brought him to the grave at the age of fifty-nine years.

His reign was momentous, short, and arbitrary; yet less severethan would be supposed in the circ*mstances in which he placedhimself. His severity was chiefly directed against the cavalierparty, who never ceased to plot against his person and his power.But his vengeance, though strict, was not bloody, his punishmentsseldom exceeding confiscation, fine, or imprisonment. There aresome instances of his packing juries, and some of his diverting theordinary course of justice by other means. His parliaments wereelected unconstitutionally; it could hardly be otherwise, when thepower that brought them together was usurped and absolute. Buthis main object seems to have been the general happiness, virtue, andhonour of his people. Few of England’s hereditary kings had governed19so well or so mildly; scarcely any so bloodlessly. His prayer onhis death-bed was as follows:—“Lord! I am a poor, foolish creature;this people would fain have me live; they think that it will be bestfor them, and that it will redound much to thy glory. All the stir isabout this. Others would fain have me die. Lord, pardon them, andpardon thy foolish people; forgive their sins, and do not forsake them;but love, and bless, and bring them to a consistency, and give themrest; and give me rest, for Jesus Christ’s sake; to whom, with thyselfand the Holy Spirit, be all honour and glory.” He died Sept. 3,1658, on the anniversary of his victories at Dunbar and Worcester.Some hours before his death he declared his eldest son Richard to behis successor in the Protectorate. He was buried with the pomp thatbecame his high place, and his remains were interred amidst those ofEngland’s kings. The empty spite of the minions of the Restorationwas wreaked on his dead body, which was disinterred, hanged atTyburn, and burnt. This was the only revenge that the courtly followersof Charles could take on the man, the terror of whose namestill made them tremble.

Cromwell’s natural character was kindly and benevolent, in proofof which may be adduced the ardent love felt for him by his family,his personal friends, and his soldiers. His humanity was displayedin his toleration of religious differences of opinion, and in his earnestinterference against the persecutions of the Vaudois. Those of hisletters which remain, though often on subjects where a contrary feelingmight have been shown, contain nothing contradictory, and muchthat is favourable to this opinion. His humour was wont to showitself in a rude and boisterous manner. He laughed, and joked, andeven romped with his friends and officers. This, perhaps, was notdone without motive; for the discovery of character was one of Cromwell’smain objects, and in the unrestrainedness of this kind of mirththe minds of many men were laid open to his view. His return fromsuch scenes to his wonted manly and quiet dignity, destroyed theundue familiarity which might have been their consequence.

Cromwell has been called by some an enthusiast; by others, ahypocrite. Tillotson says of him, that he seems to have deceivedothers so long that he at last deceived himself. It would, perhaps, bemore just to say, that he long deceived himself, and when that ceased,he began to deceive others. That he had a strong sense of religionthere can be no doubt, inasmuch as that at one time of his life he haddetermined to give up his native country for the free exercise of hisfaith. On his death-bed he declared, that he had assuredly at one20time been in a state of grace. His judgment was sound, and hismind powerful; and it is not men of this character who commonlyprove self-deceivers. That he deceived others there is no doubt; butthat deception was rather political than moral. He was very diligentto inspect the minds of his friends and followers, and in doing so,frequently kept his opinions and feelings in the background, the betterto effect his purpose: that this can be called hypocrisy may be welldoubted. He left his kingdom in a flourishing condition; respectedabroad, in a good state at home, and notwithstanding the few grantsof money given to him, inconsiderably in debt.

Cromwell was possessed of a robust body, and of a manly but sternand unprepossessing aspect. The picture from which our portrait isengraved was presented by him to Nathaniel Rich, then serving underhim as Colonel of a regiment of horse in the Parliamentary army. Itwas bequeathed to the British Museum by the great-grandson of thatgentleman, Lieut.-General Sir Robert Rich. The books in which thehistory of this period may be studied are too well known to requireminute enumeration. Milton, Harris, Godwin, are favourable to Cromwell:most other writers of note have gone against him. The charactergiven of him by Cowley is justly celebrated.

21

LION. DA VINCI.

Two centuries elapsed from Cimabue to Lionardo da Vinci. Themost distinguished artists in this interval were Giotto, who immediatelyfollowed Cimabue, and Masaccio, who immediately precededLionardo; but, although we can trace a gradual improvement fromthe infancy of Tuscan art to the surprising works of Masaccio, inthe Chiesa del Carmine, at Florence, (works which afterwards Raffaellehimself did not disdain to imitate,) the appearance of Lionardomay be justly considered the commencement of a new æra. Vasari,who composed his lives of the painters when the most excellentspecimens of the art had been recently produced, emphatically callsthe style of Giorgione, Titian, Correggio, and Raffaelle, “the modernmanner,” as opposed to that of Mantegna, Signorelli, and others, andstill more to that of Lippi, Giovanni da Fiesole, and the earliermasters. Of this “modern manner,” Lionardo da Vinci was theinventor. His chiaro-scuro is to be traced in the magic and force ofCorreggio and Giorgione; his delicate and accurate delineation ofcharacter, and his sweetness of expression, reappear in Raffaelle; while,in anatomical knowledge and energetic design, he is the precursor ofMichael Angelo; but we should look in vain for the teacher from whomhe derived these excellences. The original genius, of which thisaffords so striking a proof, was apparent in every thing to which heapplied his mind; and not only every art, but almost every sciencethat was studied in his time, seems to have engaged his attention.He was conversant in chemistry, geometry, anatomy, botany, mechanics,astronomy, and optics; and there is scarcely a subject which hetouched in which he did not, in more or less important points, anticipatethe discoveries of later philosophers. With these astonishing22powers of mind, he possessed great personal beauty and a captivatingeloquence; the first musician of his time, and an accomplished improvisatore,he excelled besides in all manly exercises, and was possessedof uncommon strength. This extraordinary man was born atVinci, a small burgh, or castle, of Val d’Arno di Sotto, in the year1452. He was the son of one Piero, a notary of the Signoria ofFlorence. His father, who had at first intended to educate him for amercantile life, having noticed his wonderful capacity and his particularfondness for drawing, placed him with Andrea Verocchio, originallya sculptor, but who, with the versatility of his age, was occasionallya designer and painter.

Vasari relates, that Verocchio being occupied on a picture of theBaptism of Christ, Lionardo was permitted to paint an accessory figureof an angel in the same work. Verocchio, perceiving that his ownperformance was manifestly surpassed by that of his young scholar,abandoned the art in despair, and never touched a pencil again.Although Lionardo thus excelled his master while a boy, and soonenlarged the boundaries of the art, it is justly observed by Lanzithat he retained traces of the manner and even general tastes ofVerocchio all his life. Like his master, he studied geometry withardour; he was fonder of design than painting: in his choice of form,whether of face or limb, he preferred the elegant to the full. FromVerocchio too he derived his fondness for drawing horses and composingbattles, and from him imbibed the wish to advance his art bydoing a few things well, rather than to multiply his works. Verocchiowas an excellent sculptor; in proof of which the S. Tommaso atOr San Michele, in Florence, and the equestrian statue before S.Giovanni e Paolo, in Venice, may be adduced. Lionardo modelledthe three statues, cast in bronze by Il Rustici, for S. Giovanni atFlorence, and the colossal equestrian statue of the first FrancescoSforza, (destroyed by the French before it was cast,) at Milan. Tohis knowledge of sculpture must be also greatly attributed that roundnessand relief which he infused into many of his pictures, and whichhad hitherto been wanting in the art. To this period of Lionardo’slife belong the Medusa’s head, now in the Florence gallery; thecartoon of Adam and Eve; a Madonna, once in the Borghese palacein Rome, known by the accompaniment of a crystal vase of flowers;a triumph of Neptune; and other works mentioned by Vasari. Someof the feebler pictures ascribed to him in Rome and Florence may alsobelong to this time. His genius for mechanics had already manifesteditself: he invented machines for sinking wells, and lifting and drawing23weights; proposed methods for boring mountains, cleansing ports,and digging canals. His architectural schemes too were numerousand daring: with the boldness of an Archimedes, he offered to liftthe Baptistery, or church of S. Giovanni, in the air, and build underit the basem*nt and steps which were wanting to complete the design.It does not appear that his fellow-citizens availed themselves of thesepowers in any memorable work; but his plan for rendering the Arnonavigable seems to have been adopted two centuries afterwards byViviani.

Lionardo remained at Florence till about the age of thirty, afterwhich we find him at Milan, in the service of Lodovico Sforza, knownby the name of Lodovico il Moro. The artist’s residence at the courtof this prince, from 1482 to 1499,[2] may be considered the most activeand the most glorious period of his life. Lodovico il Moro, whatevermay have been his character as a potentate and as a man, certainlygave great encouragement to literature and the arts, and the universalgenius of Lionardo was in all respects calculated for the restlessenterprise of the time. A letter is preserved, addressed by him toLodovico Sforza, in answer to that prince’s first invitation, (and itis sufficient to disprove Vasari’s story, that the artist recommendedhimself by his performance on the lute,) in which he gives a list ofsuch of his qualifications as might be serviceable to the Duke. Afteran account of new inventions in mining operations and gunnery, witha description of bridges, scaling ladders, and “infinite things foroffence,” in the tenth and last item, he professes competent knowledgeof architecture and hydrostatics, confident that he can “give equalsatisfaction in time of peace;” and adds, “I will also execute works ofsculpture in marble, bronze, or clay; in painting too I will do what ispossible to be done, as well as any other man, whoever he may be.”All his powers were put in requisition by the Duke of Milan. Thewarlike habits of the sovereigns of Italy at this time rendered thescience and services of the engineer particularly useful, and Lionardowas constantly inventing arms and machinery for attack and defence.He was engaged in the architecture of the cathedral; he superintendedall the pageants and masques, then so commonly conducted with splendourand taste in the Italian courts, and in some of which his knowledgeof mechanics produced almost magical effects; he improved theneighbourhood of the Ticino by canals and irrigation, and attemptedto render the Adda navigable between Brivio and Trezzo. The24colossal equestrian statue before-mentioned occupied him, at intervals,for many years; want of means alone, it seems, prevented the Dukefrom commissioning him to cast it in bronze. The model existed tillthe invasion of Milan by Louis XII., in 1499, when it was brokento pieces by his Gascons.

2.The erroneous dates of Vasari have been corrected in this particular by Amoretti.

As the founder of the Milanese Academy, the first, in all probability,established in Italy, Lionardo composed his Treatise on Painting;which Annibale Carracci declared would have saved him twenty yearsof study had he known it in his youth. This work was first publishedin Paris, in 1651, by Raffaelle Dufresne, and was illustrated withengravings from drawings by N. Poussin, with some additions byErrard. The drawings of Poussin were in a MS. copy, which belongedto the Cavaliere del Pozzo. To this last object were directedthe studies of Lionardo in optics, perspective, anatomy, libration, andproportion. In this active period of his life also were composed thenumerous MS. books, explained by designs, which appear to havecomprised specimens of the whole range of his vast knowledge. Thirteenof these books became the property of the Melzi family of Milan,on the death of Lionardo. The history and vicissitudes of these interestingworks cannot now be accurately traced. The documents andobservations of Dufresne, Mariette, and others, have been collected byRogers, in his “Imitations of Drawings by the Old Masters.” Six orseven books, which cannot be accounted for after having been collectedby one Pompeo Leoni, are supposed to have become the property ofPhilip II. of Spain. Some of the remaining volumes, augmented byless voluminous MSS. of Lionardo, were presented to the AmbrosianLibrary by Galeazzo Arconato. The inscription which records thisdonation, in 1637, states, that Arconato had been offered 3000 pistolesof gold by a king of England, (probably Charles I., and not James I.,as Addison, Wright, and latterly Amoretti, suppose,) but which he,Arconato, “regio animo,” had refused. Another volume was presentedto the Ambrosian Library by its founder, the Cardinal Borromeo;and Amoretti states, that another, containing drawings relatingto hydrostatics, was sold “al Signor Smith, Inglese.” The whole ofthe MSS. of Lionardo, preserved in the Ambrosian Library, weretaken from Milan to Paris, in 1796. A large folio volume of Lionardo’sDrawings, collected by the above-mentioned Pompeo Leoni, isin this country, in His Majesty’s collection. On its cover is inscribed,“Disegni di Lionardo da Vinci, restaurati da Pompeo Leoni:” itcontains 779 drawings, various in subject and execution; the mostremarkable are, perhaps, some accurate anatomical drawings. The25whole are illustrated, like the contents of his other books, by noteswritten with his left hand, which can only be read through a glass.This volume was discovered, at the bottom of a large chest, aboutsixty years ago, by Mr. Dalton, the librarian of George III.; and inthe same chest were Holbein’s drawings of the principal personagesof the court of Henry VIII. It is supposed that they were placedthere for security by Charles I., who retained a sincere love for thearts even in his misfortunes.

Lionardo’s works in painting during his residence in Milan wereby no means numerous, owing to the quantity and variety of his occupations.The portraits of Cecilia Gallerani and Lucrezia Crivelli,done in the earlier part of this period, received unbounded praisesfrom the poets of the day. A picture of the Virgin and Child, St.John, and St. Michael, now in the possession of the Sanvitali familyof Parma, is dated 1492. The portraits of Lodovico Sforza, his wifeand family, were painted on the wall of the refectory in the Conventdelle Grazie, where the Last Supper was afterwards painted. Theseportraits faded, owing to the damp of the wall, soon after they weredone. Other works, in the same place, are mentioned by somewriters as having been done on canvass, but they all perished from thesame cause. A colossal Madonna, painted on a wall at the villa ofVaprio, belonging to the Melzi family, still exists, but it was muchinjured during the last occupation of Milan by the French. Thepaintings on the walls of the castle of Milan were destroyed by invadersof the same nation, in 1499. Various portraits, and a halffigure of St. John, are preserved in the Ambrosian Library.

In 1496, Lionardo began his greatest work, the Last Supper, inthe refectory of the Convent delle Grazie: it was painted on the wallin oil, to which circ*mstance Lanzi, and others who have followedhim, attribute its premature decay. But had it been in fresco, itwould probably have suffered as much, since that part of Milan, wherethe convent stands, has frequently been subject to inundations; andso late as 1800, the floor, or rather ground, of the refectory, wasseveral feet under water for a considerable time. The walls havethus been never free from damp: fifty years only after the picture waspainted, Armenini describes it as half decayed. Vasari found itindistinct and faded. Later writers speak of it as a ruined work; andin 1652, the friars of the convent showed how worthless it was considered,by cutting a door through the wall, and thus destroyed thelower extremities of some of the figures. In 1726, a painter, namedBellotti, was unfortunately commissioned to restore it, and it appears26that he almost covered the work of Lionardo with his own. Thedampness, however, soon reduced the whole to its former faded state;and the next restorer, one Mazza, in 1770, actually scraped the wall(from which the original colour was chipping) to have a smoothsurface to paint on, and even passed a coat of colour over the figuresbefore he began his operations. Three heads were saved from hisretouchings; but it must be evident that very little of the originalwork can be visible in any part. Bonaparte ordered that the placeshould not be put to military uses; but his commands were not attendedto in his absence, and the refectory was long used as a stable. Thebuilding however was finally repaired, and, as far as possible,secured from damp. Fortunately numerous copies were made fromthis painting soon after it was done, and one of the best, by Marco deOggiono, or Uggione, a scholar of Lionardo, is in this country, in theRoyal Academy, where is also preserved a cartoon of the Virgin andSt. Anne, by Da Vinci himself. Uggione’s copy, from which the printby Frey was taken, is nearly the size of the original; it was, however,enlarged from a smaller copy, so that it cannot be considered veryaccurate. The head of the Christ is inferior even to the ruins ofLionardo’s work; and it may here be observed, that when Vasarisays this head was declared unfinished by the painter, the imperfectionis to be understood in the same sense in which Virgil spoke of theincompleteness of the Æneid. Two series of original studies for theheads in this picture are in this country; the greater part of oneseries is in the possession of Messrs. Woodburn. The print by Morghenwas done from drawings taken from the original painting.

After the fall of Lodovico il Moro, in 1500, Lionardo returned toFlorence, where he remained thirteen years, occasionally revisitingMilan. Among his first works done in Florence, at this time, Vasarinames the above-mentioned cartoon of the Madonna and Child, St. Anne,and the Infant St. John, and a portrait of Genevra Benci. At this periodtoo he produced the celebrated portrait of Mona, or Madonna Lisa, wifeof Francesco del Giocondo. This was the labour of four years, andthis too, Vasari says, was left at last imperfect. We may thus understandthe meaning of the expression, as applied to the head of theChrist in the Last Supper. The portrait of Mona Lisa, now in theLouvre, is most highly wrought, although it by no means agrees withthe absurd encomiums of Vasari, who almost leads his reader tobelieve that the hair of the eyebrows and pores of the skin are perceptible,whereas the execution resembles rather the broad softness ofCorreggio. His next work was the celebrated cartoon, of which the27composition known by the name of the Battle of the Standard was apart only. The subject was the defeat of Nicolo Piccinino, the generalof Filippo Maria Visconti, by the Florentines, near Anghiara, inTuscany, in the year 1440. This was to have been painted in theCouncil Hall, at Florence, in competition with Michael Angelo, whoserival work was the celebrated composition known by the name of theCartoon of Pisa. Lionardo’s attempt to paint in oil on the wall failedin this instance, even in the commencement, and the picture was neverdone. The large cartoon disappeared, but a drawing for a part of itwas preserved, which was published in the Etruria Pittrice, and the samegroup was engraved by Edelinch, from a copy, or rather free imitation,by Rubens. To this period belong also his own portrait in theDucal Gallery, at Florence; the half figure of a nun, in the NicoliniPalace; the Madonna, receiving a lily from the infant Christ; theVertumnus and Pomona, miscalled Vanity and Modesty, in the SciarraPalace at Rome; a holy family, now in Russia; the supposed portraitof Joan of Naples, in the Doria Palace; and the Christ amongthe Doctors, formerly in the Aldobrandini Palace at Rome. Hisnumerous imitators render, however, all decision as to the originalityof some of these works doubtful; and the last-mentioned picture, nowin the National Gallery, has been thought, by more than one writer,to have been, at least in part, painted by his scholars. A portrait ofthe celebrated Captain, Giangiacomo Triulzio, may have been paintedin one of Lionardo’s short visits to Milan. For a fuller list of hisworks, Amoretti, and the authors he quotes, may be referred to.

In 1514, after the defeat of the French at Novara, Lionardo, beingthen at Milan, left that city for Rome, passing through Florence.His stay in Rome was short. Pope Leo X. seems to have been prejudicedagainst him by the friends of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle,and was displeased at his dilatory, or rather desultory habits. Fromthe notes of Lionardo himself, collected by Amoretti, it appears that,while in Rome, he improved the machinery for the coinage; but theonly certain painting of his done at this time is a votive picture on thewall of a corridor in the Convent of S. Onofrio.

Francis I., who succeeded Louis XII. in 1515, having reconqueredthe Milanese, Lionardo again repaired to Milan, and once more superintendeda pageant, in this instance intended to celebrate the triumphof the king after the victory of Marignano. Francis, having in vainattempted to remove the painting of the Last Supper from Milan toParis, desired, at least, to have the painter near him. Lionardoaccepted the invitation, and afterwards accompanied his new patron toFrance. This being little more than two years before the death of28Lionardo, and as he was occupied in planning canals in the departmentof the Cher et Loire, he painted nothing, although the kingrepeatedly invited him to execute his cartoon of the Virgin and St.Anne, which was afterwards painted by Luini. His usual residencein France was at Cloux, a royal villa near Amboise, in Touraine,where he died, May 2, 1519. The story of his having expiredin the arms of Francis I., which, as Bossi observes, does morehonour to the monarch than to the artist, appears to be without foundation.Francesco Melzi, who wrote an account of Lionardo’s deathfrom Amboise soon after it happened, not only does not mention thecirc*mstance, but was the first, according to Lomazzo, to inform theking himself of the artist’s decease; and Venturi has ascertained, thaton the day of Lionardo’s death the court was at St. Germain en Laye.He was buried in the church of St. Florent, at Amboise, but nomemorial exists to mark the place; and it is supposed that his monument,together with many others, was destroyed in the wars of theHugonots.

The accounts given of Lionardo da Vinci by Vasari, Lomazzo, andthe older writers, were repeated by Dufresne, De Piles, Felibien,and others. The more recent and accurate researches of Amoretti,prefixed to Lionardo’s Trattato della Pittura, in the thirty-third volumeof the “Classici Italiani;” of Bossi, “Del Cenacolo di Lionardo daVinci;” and of Venturi, “Essai sur les Ouvrages Physico-Mathématiquesde Léonard da Vinci, avec des fragmens tirés de ses manuscritsapportés de l’Italie;” may be consulted for further particulars respectingthe life and works of this great man.

29

VAUBAN.

Sebastien le Prestre de Vauban, son of Albin le Prestre andAimée Carmagnol, was born May 1, or, by other accounts, May 15,1633, at St. Leger-de-Foucheret, a small village between Saulieu andAvallon, in the province of Burgundy. He became an orphan at anearly age, his father having lost both his life and fortune in the publicservice. Under the protection and instruction of M. de Fontaines, priorof St. John at Semur, he acquired some knowledge of geometry, a sciencethen but little cultivated among military men. At seventeen years ofa*ge he deserted his home, and entered as a volunteer in the regimentof Condé, then employed in the Spanish service, in which his zealand abilities soon procured him a commission. Nor was it long beforehe showed his talent for the science of engineering. In 1652 he wasemployed in the erection of the fortifications of Clermont, in Lorraine;and the same year, serving at the first siege of S^te. Menehould, hemade several lodgments, and during the assault swam the river underthe enemy’s fire. Public notice was taken of this exploit; and by thismeans Vauban’s family heard, for the first time, that he had embracedthe military profession. In 1653 he was taken prisoner by a Frenchcorps, and conducted to Cardinal Mazarin, who thought it worthwhile to purchase his services with a lieutenancy in the regiment ofBourgogne. In the same year he served as an engineer under theChevalier de Clerville, at the second siege of S^te. Menehould; and thecharge of repairing the fortifications of that town, when retaken bythe troops of Louis XIV., was confided to him.

In May, 1655, Vauban received his commission as engineer, and inthe following year he was rewarded for his services with the commandof a company in the regiment of the Maréchal de la Ferté. Not to30mention the numerous situations in which he bore an active but subordinatepart, we proceed at once to the year 1658, in which he hadthe chief direction of the sieges of Gravelines, Ypres, and Oudenarde;where, being free to act on his own opinions, yet still doubting hisstrength, he showed, by judicious though slight innovations, whatmight be ultimately expected from his matured experience. He wasalso charged with the improvement of the port and fortifications ofDunkerque, on the surrender of that once important place to Franceby the treaty of October 17, 1662.

When the war with Spain was renewed in 1667, Vauban had theprincipal direction of the sieges at which Louis XIV. presided in person.At Douay he received a musket-wound in his cheek, the scar of whichis preserved by Coisevox and Lebrun in his bust and portraits. Thecapture of Lille, after only nine days of open trenches, procured forhim a lieutenancy in the Guards and a pension, accompanied withthe far more gratifying commendations of his sovereign. Hostilitieswere ended by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1668, in which yearhe prepared designs for the citadel of Lille, for Ath, and several otherplaces; and in 1669 the king appointed him governor of the citadelof Lille, the first reward of this description created in France.

Soon after the peace Vauban accompanied the minister Louvois ona mission to the Duke of Savoy, and furnished plans for the fortificationsof Verrue, Verceil, and the citadel of Turin. Returning toFlanders, the works of Dunkerque were prosecuted under his immediatedirection with unexampled activity. Three corps of 10,000men relieved each other daily, every four hours, proceeding from thecamp with their arms, and resuming them on the completion of theirtask. In the midst of these labours he prepared his first work onthe attack of fortresses, for the instruction of Louvois, pointing out init many of the errors committed in former sieges, and proposing remediesfor them.

The war with Holland, which commenced in 1672, afforded Vaubanmany opportunities of displaying his superior abilities. Louisagain took the field in person; and again Vauban had the principaldirection of the sieges of which the king was a spectator. Previousto the siege of Maestricht, in 1673, the regular method of assaultinga fortified place was to excavate a trench parallel to the general contourof the fortress, and from batteries erected near it to fire indiscriminatelyon the works and the town. On this occasion Vaubanintroduced three parallel trenches, connected by oblique or zigzagapproaches, which enabled him to place large bodies of infantry near31the head of his attack, each successive parallel more closely shuttingin the garrison, and restraining their offensive operations.

In 1674 Vauban was promoted to the rank of Brigadier. In thefollowing year he had the magnanimity to second with his recommendationthe ineffectual application made by his rival, Coehorn, foremployment by the French government.

In 1676 Vauban’s services were rewarded with the rank of Major-General;and in 1677 the mode of attack adopted at Maestricht wasperfected at Valenciennes, where the fronts attacked were completelyshut in by the parallels, the flanks of which rested on the Scheldt andthe marsh of Bourlin.

At this siege it was determined to assault an earthen crown-work,and Vauban proposed to make the attack during the day. FiveMarshals of France, Louvois, Monsieur, and even the king himself,opposed this advice. Vauban was immoveable; he maintained that itwas the only way to avoid confusion and mistakes, to surprise theenemy, and to overpower him by opposing fresh troops to his weariedgarrison. “Night,” said he, “has no shame! Open day and theeye of the commander restrain the cowardly, animate the feeble, andadd fresh courage to the brave.” The king at length yielded to hisarguments. The enemy was found, as he had predicted, harassed withwatching, sleeping, or absent in the fortress seeking provisions. Thecrown-work, and a ravelin which served as an interior intrenchment,were successively carried. The enemy, retreating into the Paté, anextensive irregular work covering the place, was promptly pursued.Four grenadiers got possession of a sally port, while others enteredby a subterraneous passage. The besieged fled into the body of theplace, and raised the bridge. An immediate and vigorous assault soonplaced the disputed works in the possession of the assailants, who,pushing forward to the canal which traverses the city, intrenchedthemselves in the houses bordering it. They were strongly andspeedily supported, and thus the place was taken at a single assault,justifying Vauban’s advice, even beyond his most sanguine expectations.His services on this occasion were rewarded with a gratuityof 25,000 crowns.

Cambray was besieged next. The town surrendered after a fewnights of open trenches. The citadel was then attacked. Du Metzproposed assaulting the ravelin: Vauban opposed this counsel, representingthat the strength of the work, and the vigour of the defence,prescribed an attack en règle. “Sire,” said he to the king, “youwill lose some one who is of more value than the ravelin.” The success32at Valenciennes inspired the troops with temerity: assault wasgiven, the ravelin was carried, and a lodgment in it was commenced;but the enemy brought a heavy fire to bear on the workand its approaches, and then sallying forth speedily drove back theassailants. Du Metz reproached Parisot, the engineer who tracedthe lodgment, with having caused the failure of the attack. Vaubanhowever insisted that the work was lost, not through any vice in thelodgment, but because the assault could not be sufficiently supported.The siege was then proceeded with in the ordinary manner, and theravelin secured with the loss of five men only. “I will believe youanother time,” said the king to Vauban, and he kept his word. Apracticable breach being made, Louis expressed his intention ofgiving no quarter to the three thousand men who formed the garrison,and had so vigorously defended themselves. Vauban alone venturedto oppose his views, representing that such conduct was contrary tothe usages of warfare among civilized nations; that the place wouldbe taken, but would cost more bloodshed; and, “Sire,” he added,“I would rather have preserved 100 soldiers to your majesty thanhave deprived the enemy of 3000.”

Vauban succeeded to the Chevalier de Clerville, as Commissary-Generalof the Fortifications of France, in December, 1677. In 1678he received the congratulations of Colbert on the success attending theexecution of his projects for the improvement of the Port of Dunkerque,which, having been previously used only by fishermen, wasnow made accessible to vessels carrying forty guns. It would beuseless to reckon all the labours of this part of his life: the fortificationsof Maubeuge, Thionville, Sarre-Louis, Phalzbourg, Béfort, andthe citadel of Strasburg, were among the new works projected byhim, while all the principal ports and fortifications of France weremore or less improved by his master-hand.

The war of 1683 contributed to the increase of Vauban’s reputation.The siege of Luxemburg, in 1684, was carried on under his direction;and he here displayed an admirable presence of mind when discoveredone evening by the enemy, in reconnoitring the works of the place.He instantly made a signal to them not to fire, and, instead of retreating,advanced towards them; they mistook him for one of their ownofficers, and having skirted the glacis, he retired slowly withoutexciting further suspicion. After having surmounted the many difficultiespresented by the nature of the ground over which the attackwas necessarily carried, the assailants attained the covered way. Todrive the enemy out of its long branches, Vauban caused elevated33parapets to be constructed on their prolongations, whence a plungingmusketry-fire was thrown into the covered way, and the mass of itsdefenders were compelled to retreat; the few who remained concealedbehind the traverses being gradually dislodged, as the crowning of thecovered way was extended along the crest of the glacis. This siegewas remarkable both for the difficulties which were overcome, andfor the improvements made in the method of conducting an attackand protecting the troops employed in it.

The new fortresses of Mont-Royal, Landau, and Fort Louis, togetherwith extensive projects for the improvement of the canal of Languedoc,formed part of Vauban’s labours during the truce of Ratisbon. Helikewise prepared a general project for the improvement and defenceof all the ports, roadsteads, and coasts of France. To his exertionsthe French are indebted for the first general statistical account of theircountry, he having caused blank forms to be prepared and printed,which he distributed, to be filled up by the several intendants, governors,and other public functionaries with whom his frequent journeys throughthe country in the execution of his ordinary duties brought himacquainted. Louis XIV. afterwards caused these returns to be madegenerally throughout France.

The war of 1688 commenced with the siege of Philisbourg, wherethe Dauphin commanded in person, and Vauban directed the attacks.He here tried the effect of firing en ricochet, of which he was theoriginal proposer. The superiority of this method of attack was notso decisively shown in this first instance as on subsequent occasions:still it proved so far effectual in subduing the fire of the town, as tocause its surrender after twenty-four days of open trenches. TheDuc de Montausier said in a letter to the Dauphin, “I do not offeryou my congratulation on the fall of Philisbourg: you had a goodarmy, mortars, guns, and Vauban.” On the same occasion, Louis XIV.wrote thus to the successful engineer:—“You know, long since, inwhat estimation I hold you, and the confidence I have both in yourknowledge and affection. Believe that I do not forget the servicesyou render me, and that I am particularly pleased with your conductat Philisbourg. If you reciprocate the feelings of my son you mustbe on the best of terms, for I feel assured that he, equally with myself,knows how to esteem and value you. I cannot conclude withoutearnestly recommending you to preserve yourself for the benefit of myservice.”

Manheim and Franckenthal were next besieged and taken. On thesurrender of the latter, the Dauphin presented Vauban with four34pieces of artillery, to be selected by him from the arsenals of the conqueredfortresses, to ornament his chateau of Bazoches. He was thisyear promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-General. The difficulty withwhich the obstacles presented at the siege of Philisbourg were overcome,induced Vauban to renew, with greater earnestness, his projectfor the formation of a corps of sappers, originally suggested shortlyafter the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. Louvois, though he yielded toVauban’s arguments in favour of this new force, postponed its formation,and subsequent events prevented his adding this to the otherestablishments which he created.

When the reverses suffered by the French armies in 1689, the disorderedfinances, and the exhausted resources of the kingdom, had reducedLouis XIV. to the greatest difficulties, Vauban alone had courageto propose the re-establishment of the edict of Nantes. In a manuscriptaddressed to Louvois, he says, “Forcible conversions, and thebelief that they yield no faith to sacraments, the profanation of whichthey make a jest, have inspired an universal horror of the conduct ofthe clergy. If it is resolved to proceed, either the new Protestantsmust be exterminated as rebels, or banished as madmen: bothexecrable projects, opposed to every Christian virtue, dangerous toreligion itself; for persecution propagates sects, as was proved when,after the massacre of St. Bartholomew, a new census showed that theProtestants had increased in number not less than 110,000.” Heproposed, therefore, to re-establish, purely and simply, the edict ofNantes; to restore all civil rights to the Protestants and their clergy;to recall the one from exile; to deliver the others from the galleys;to leave their consciences free; and to permit the re-opening and rebuildingof their places of worship.

After the fall of Mons, in 1691, Vauban greatly strengthened thatfortress; placing outworks in the marshes, inaccessible to an enemy,and seeing in reverse all the points of attack.

In 1692 Vauban directed the operations of the siege of Namur,where Coehorn commanded the stronghold of Fort William. Thearmy watched with eagerness this struggle between the rival engineers,one of whom defended his own work. Fort William wassoon taken, and the triumph rested with Vauban. The order of St.Louis, the first restricted to the reward of military distinction, wasinstituted before the campaign of 1693. It is said to have been suggestedby Vauban, who was one of the seven Grand Crosses named atit* creation.

In 1693 he conducted, with his usual skill, the siege of Charleroi,35a place which he had fortified, and of which he might well be supposedto know the weakest points; yet it was confidently believedamong the besiegers that their celebrated engineer had at last madea mistake, in having selected the strongest fronts as points of attack.Vauban soon convinced them of their error, by the capture of Charleroi.

The system of ricochet firing, devised at Philisbourg, and employedwith various success at subsequent sieges, was fully developed at thesiege of Ath, in 1697, when Vauban placed his first batteries in thesecond parallel with such good effect as to reduce the place to surrenderafter only three days of open trenches.

During the peace of Ryswick, Vauban made a tour of the northernfrontiers, in which he was occupied three years, preparing projects forcanals and various other public works, as well as for the improvementof existing and the construction of new fortresses; among others,of Neuf-Brisach, his last work, in which he improved on his systemof tower bastions, previously applied at Béfort and Landau. In 1699he was elected an honorary member of the French Academy; and,January 2, 1703, was promoted to the rank of Marshal of France; adignity which he modestly wished to decline, lest it might, at a futureperiod, deprive him of the opportunity of serving his country.

In the autumn of 1703 Vieux-Brisach was besieged by the armyunder the orders of the Duc de Bourgogne, who is reported to havethus addressed Vauban:—“Monsieur Maréchal, you must lose yourhonour before this place: for either we shall take it, and if so, they willsay you have fortified it badly; or we shall fail, and they will then saythat you have ill assisted me.” “Monseigneur,” replied Vauban,“it is already known how I have fortified Brisach; they have yet tolearn how you will take the places I have fortified.” The siege lastedonly thirteen days, and was the last at which Vauban served. Thefollowing year he presented to the Duc de Bourgogne his treatise onthe Attack of Fortresses, first published at the Hague by PierreDehoult, in 1737.

When Turin was attacked, in 1706, M. de la Feuillade rejected theproject of attack submitted by Vauban, and the result was, that aperfect investment was not completed until after three months’ fighting.Louis XIV., annoyed at the duration of the siege, and at the progressof Prince Eugene, sent for Vauban, who, after pointing out the faultsof the attack, offered to give his assistance as a volunteer. “Recollect,”said the king, “that this employment is beneath your dignity.”“Sire,” replied Vauban, “my dignity consists in serving my country.I will leave my baton at the door, and perhaps may assist M. de la36Feuillade in taking the city.” La Feuillade refused the proffered aid,lest he should have to share with Vauban the honour of taking Turin:an honour, however, which he did not acquire, being forced to raise thesiege after ninety-seven days of open trenches.

From the period of Vauban’s promotion to the dignity of Marshalof France, his active labours in the public service were necessarilymuch less numerous; much of his time being devoted to the arrangementof his numerous memoranda, projects, &c., a compilation extendingto twelve volumes, entitled ‘Mes Oisivetés,’ of which howeverseven volumes are lost. In 1706, after the battle of Ramillies, hewas sent to command at Dunkerque, and on the coast of Flanders,where, by his presence, he reassured the timid, and prevented thedestruction of a tract of land which it was proposed to inundate, inorder to avert an attack on Dunkerque. This he did more effectuallyby forming an entrenched camp between that place and Borgues.

The imperfect defence of several of the fortresses of France duringthe same campaign induced him to commence a treatise on the defenceof fortresses, which he did not live to complete.

The Duc de St. Simon affirms that Vauban’s days were shortenedby chagrin, at having displeased his sovereign by the publication ofhis scheme of taxation, entitled Dixme Royale, and that Louis XIV.was so much offended as to be indifferent to the loss of a man belovedby his countrymen, and celebrated throughout Europe. Accordingto Dangeau, on the contrary, so soon as Louis heard of Vauban’sillness, he sent his principal physician to attend him. Fontenelle distinctlystates that his death, which took place March 30, 1707, wasoccasioned by an inflammation of the lungs.

An authorized edition of Vauban’s treatise on the Attack and Defenceof Fortresses was published, in 1829, by M. le Baron de Valazé.His other works principally consisted of projects for the defence andimprovement of France, and many of them are preserved in the depôt,of fortifications, and in the collection of M. de Rosambo. A list ofVauban’s works may be found in the notes to ‘L’Histoire du CorpsImpérial du Génie, par A. Allent,’ the best authority for an accountof his labours; the Eloges of Fontenelle and Carnot may also beconsulted. Honest, independent, humane, Vauban is characterisedby Voltaire as the “first of engineers and best of citizens.” Theindustry of his life may be estimated from the calculation that he improved,more or less, three hundred fortified or trading places, builtthirty-three new fortresses, conducted fifty-three sieges, and was presentin a hundred and fifty actions, greater or less.

37

WILLIAM III.

William, Prince of Orange, the third King of England of thatname, born November 14, 1650, was the posthumous son of WilliamII., Prince of Orange, and Mary Stuart, daughter of Charles I. ofEngland. The fortunes of his childhood did not promise that greatnesswhich he attained. His father had been thought to entertaindesigns hostile to the liberties of the United Provinces, and the suspicionsof the father produced distrust of the son. When Cromwell dictatedterms of peace to the Dutch in 1654, one of the articles insistedon the perpetual exclusion of the Prince of Orange from all the greatoffices formerly held by his family; and this sentence of exclusion wasconfirmed, so far as Holland was concerned, thirteen years after, by theenactment of the Perpetual Edict, by which the office of Stadtholderof Holland was for ever abolished. The Restoration of the Stuarts,however, was so far favourable to the interests of the House of Orange,as to induce the princess-royal to petition, on her son’s behalf, that hemight be invested in the offices and dignities possessed by his ancestors.The provinces of Zealand, Friesland, and Guelderland warmlyespoused her cause: even the States of Holland engaged to watch overhis education, “that he might be rendered capable of filling the postsheld by his forefathers.” They formally adopted him as “a child ofthe state,” and surrounded him with such persons as were thoughtlikely to educate him in a manner suited to his station in a freegovernment.

A storm broke upon Holland just as William was ripening intomanhood; and discord at home threatened to aggravate the misfortunesof the country. The House of Orange had again becomepopular; and a loud cry was raised for the instant abolition of the38Perpetual Edict, and for installing the young prince in all the officesenjoyed by his ancestors. The Republican party, headed by theDe Witts, prevented this; but they were forced to yield to his beingchosen Captain-General and High-Admiral. Many persons hopedthat William’s military rank and prospects would incline his uncleCharles II. to make common cause with the friends of liberty and independence;but the English monarch was the pensioner of the Frenchking, and France and England jointly declared war against theStates, April 7, 1672. The Dutch made large preparations; butnew troops could not suddenly acquire discipline and experience.The enemy meditated, and had nearly effected, the entire conquest ofthe country: the populace became desperate; a total change ofgovernment was demanded; the De Witts were brutally massacred;and William was invested with the full powers of Stadtholder. Hisfitness for this high office was soon demonstrated by the vigour andthe wisdom of his measures. Maestricht was strongly garrisoned;the Prince of Orange, with a large army, advanced to the banks ofthe Issel; the Dutch fleet cruised off the mouth of the Thames, toprevent the naval forces of England and France from joining. Thefollowing year, 1673, Louis XIV. took Maestricht; while the Princeof Orange, not having forces sufficient to oppose the French army,employed himself in retaking other towns from the enemy. Newalliances were formed; and the prince’s masterly conduct not onlystopped the progress of the French, but forced them to evacuate theprovince of Utrecht. In 1674 the English Parliament compelledCharles II. to make peace with Holland. The Dutch signed separatetreaties with the Bishop of Munster and the Elector of Cologne. Thegallantry of the prince had so endeared him to the States of Holland,that the offices of Stadtholder and Captain-General were declared hereditaryin his male descendants. Meanwhile he continued to display bothcourage and conduct in various military operations against the French.The battle of Seneffe was desperately fought. After sunset, the conflictwas continued by the light of the moon; and darkness, ratherthan the exhaustion of the combatants, put an end to the contest, andleft the victory undecided. The veteran Prince of Condé gave acandid and generous testimonial to the merit of his young antagonist:“The Prince of Orange,” said he, “has in every point acted like anold captain, except in venturing his life too much like a young soldier.”

In 1675 the sovereignty of Guelderland and of the county of Zutphenwas offered to William, with the title of Duke, which wasasserted to have been formerly vested in his family. Those who39entertained a bad opinion of him, and attributed whatever lookedlike greatness in his character to ambition rather than patriotism,insinuated that he was himself the main spring of this manifest intrigue.He had at least prudence enough to deliberate on the offer,and to submit it to the judgment of the States of Holland, Zeeland,and Utrecht. They viewed with jealousy the aristocratic dignity, andhe wisely refused it. This forbearance was rewarded by the provinceof Utrecht, which adopted the precedent of Holland, in voting theStadtholdership hereditary in the heirs-male of his body.

The campaign of 1675 passed without any memorable event in theLow Countries. In the following year hopes of peace were held outfrom the meeting of a congress at Nimeguen; but the articles of peacewere to be determined rather by the events of the campaign than bythe deliberations of the negotiators. The French took Condé, andseveral other places; the Prince of Orange, bent on retaliation, satdown before Maestricht, the siege of which he urged impetuously;but the masterly movements of the enemy, and a scarcity of forage,frustrated his plans. Aire had already been taken; the Duke ofOrleans had made himself master of Bouchain; Marshal Schomberg,to whom Louis had entrusted his army on retiring to Versailles,was on the advance; and it was found expedient to raise the siege ofMaestricht. It was now predicted that the war in Flanders would beunfortunate in its issue; but the Prince of Orange, influenced by themixed motives of honour, ambition, and animosity, kept the DutchRepublic steady to the cause of its allies, and refused to negotiate aseparate peace with France. In October, 1677, he came to England,and was graciously received by the king his uncle. His marriage withMary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York, was the object of his visit.That event gave general satisfaction at the time; the consequences whicharose from it were unsuspected by the most far-sighted. At first theking was disinclined to the match; then neutral; and at last favourable,in the hope of engaging William to fall in with his designs, and listento the separate proposals of the French monarch. The Prince, on hispart, was pleased with the prospect, because he expected that the kingof England would, at length, find himself obliged to declare againstLouis, and because he imagined that the English nation would bemore strongly engaged in his interest, and would adopt his views withrespect to the war. In this he was disappointed, though the Parliamentwas determined on forcing the king to renounce his alliancewith Louis. But the States had gained no advantage commensuratewith the expense and danger of the contest in which they were40engaged, and were inclined to conclude a separate treaty. Mutualdiscontent among the allies led to the dissolution of the confederacy,and a peace advantageous to France was concluded at Nimeguen in1678; but causes of animosity still subsisted. The Prince of Orange,independent of political enmity, had now personal grounds of complaintagainst Louis; who deeply resented the zeal with which Williamhad espoused the liberties of Europe and resisted his aggressions. Hecould neither bend so haughty a spirit to concessions, nor warp hisintegrity even by the suggestions of his dominant passion, ambition.But it was in the power of the French monarch to punish this obstinacy,and by oppressing the inhabitants of the Principality of Orange, to takea mean revenge on an innocent people for the imputed offences of theirsovereign. In addition to other injuries, when the Duchy of Luxembourgwas invaded by the French troops, the commanding officer hadorders to expose to sale all the lands, furniture, and effects of thePrince of Orange, although they had been conferred on him by aformal decree of the States of the country. Whether to preserve theappearance of justice, or merely as an insult, Louis summoned thePrince to appear before his Privy Council in 1682, by the title ofMessire Guillaume Comte de Nassau, living at the Hague in Holland.In the emergency occasioned by the probability of the Dutch frontierbeing attacked in 1683, the Prince of Orange exerted all his influenceto procure an augmentation of the troops of the Republic; but he hadthe mortification to experience an obstinate resistance in several ofthe States, especially in that of Holland, headed by the city of Amsterdam.His coolness and steadiness, qualities invaluable in a statesman,at length prevailed, and he was enabled to carry his measures witha high hand.

The accession of James II. to the throne of Great Britain, in 1685,was hailed as an opportunity for drawing closer both the personalfriendship and the political alliance between the Stadtholder of theone country and the King of the other; but a totally different resulttook place. The headstrong violence of James brought about a coalitionof parties to resist him; and many of the English nobility andgentry concurred in an application to the Prince of Orange for assistance.At this crisis William acted with such circ*mspection as befittedhis calculating character. The nation was looking forward to thePrince and Princess, as its only resource against tyranny, civil andecclesiastical. Were the presumptive heir to concur in the offensivemeasures, he must partake with the King of the popular hatred. Eventhe continental alliances, which William was setting his whole soul41to establish and improve, would become objects of suspicion to theEnglish, and Parliament might refuse to furnish the necessary funds.Thus by one course he might risk the loss of a succession which wasawaiting him; by an opposite conduct, he might profit by the King’sindiscretion, and even forestall the time when the throne was tobe his in the course of nature. The birth of a son and heir, inJune, 1688, seemed to turn the scale in favour of James; but theaffections of his people were not to be recovered: it was even assertedthat the child was supposititious. This event, therefore, confirmedWilliam’s previous choice of the side which he was to take; and hismeasures were well and promptly concerted. A declaration was dispersedthroughout Great Britain, setting forth the grievances of the kingdom,and announcing the immediate introduction of an armed force fromabroad, for the purpose of procuring the convocation of a free parliament.In a short time, full four hundred transports were hired; thearmy rapidly fell down the rivers and canals from Nimeguen; theartillery, arms, stores, and horses were embarked; and, on the 21st ofOctober, 1668, the Prince set sail from Helvoetsluys, with a fleet ofnear five hundred vessels, and an army of more than fourteen thousandmen. He was compelled to put back by a storm; but, on a secondattempt, he had a prosperous voyage, while the King’s fleet was windbound.He arrived at Torbay on the 4th of November, and disembarkedon the 5th, the anniversary of the Gunpowder Treason. Theremembrance of Monmouth’s ill-fated rebellion prevented the westernpeople from joining him; but at length several persons of considerationtook up the cause, and an association was formed for its support. Atthis last hour James expressed his readiness to make concessions; butit was too late; they were looked on only as tokens of fear: the confidenceof the people in the King’s sincerity was gone for ever. But,how much soever his conduct deserved censure, his distresses entitledhim to pity. One daughter was the wife of his opponent; the otherthrew herself into the hands of the insurgents. In the agony of hisheart the father exclaimed, “God help me! my own children haveforsaken me.” He sent the Queen and infant Prince to France. Publicaffairs were in the utmost confusion, and seemed likely to remainso while he stayed in the island. After many of those perplexing adventuresand narrow escapes which generally befall dethroned royalty,he at length succeeded in embarking for the continent.

The Prince issued circular letters for the election of members to aConvention, which met January 22, 1689. It appeared at once, thatthe House of Commons, agreeably to the prevailing sentiments both42of the nation and of those in present authority, was chiefly chosenfrom among the Whig party. The throne was declared vacant bythe following vote:—“That King James the Second, having endeavouredto subvert the constitution of the kingdom by breakingthe original contract between king and people; and having, by theadvice of Jesuits and other wicked persons, violated the fundamentallaws, and withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, has abdicated thegovernment, and that the throne is thereby vacant.” By the nationalconsent, the vacancy was supplied by his daughter Mary and her husbandWilliam conjointly. Anne was nominated the next in succession,to the exclusion of the infant prince. The Bill of Rights waspassed at the same time, settling disputed points between king andpeople, circ*mscribing and defining the royal prerogative, and affirmingthe rights of the nation. That “original contract between kingand people,” referred to by the vote of Parliament, seemed hithertoto have existed rather as a theory than as a practical and binding engagement;but at this crisis the contract was put into legal form, andduly executed; the general principles of free government were distinctlypromulgated; and a precedent was established which fixed thesuccession to the British monarchy on Protestantism, and on the choiceof the nation through its parliamentary organ.

William was thus chosen for the sovereign of a powerful kingdom;but he had little personal knowledge of his new subjects, and partyfeuds ran high, so that it was more difficult to steer between theopposing factions of the British court than it had been between thoseof the United Provinces. His reign accordingly was pregnant withevents, both domestic and foreign, of the highest historical interest;though we shall mention none but those in which he was immediatelyand personally concerned.

The Prince of Orange lost no time in apprising the States-General ofhis accession to the British throne. He assured them of his perseveringendeavours to promote the well-being of his native country, which hewas so far from abandoning, that he intended to retain his high officesin it. War with France was renewed early in 1689 by the States,supported by the house of Austria and some of the German princes;nor was it difficult for William to procure the concurrence of theEnglish Parliament, when the object was the humiliation of Franceand her arbitrary sovereign. But the Commission for reforming churchdiscipline threw him into difficulties with his new subjects. Thehigh church party branded the King as an enemy to the hierarchy,because he was inclined to relieve the Dissenters from the oppressions43of which they complained. The two Universities declared againstall alterations. Dr. Jane, the most violent partisan in the convocation,was chosen prolocutor, and in a speech to the Bishop of London, aspresident, asserted that the English Liturgy needed no reform, andconcluded with the declaration of the barons, “Nolumus leges Angliæmutari.” The Bishop’s exhortation to charity and indulgence towardsthe Dissenters was so ill received, that it was necessary to proroguethe convocation, on the plea that the royal commission was invalidfrom not having been sealed. In the spring of 1689, James landedin Ireland with a French force, and was received by the Catholicswith marks of strong attachment. Marshal Schomberg was sent tooppose him, but was able to effect little during the campaign of thatyear. William, in the mean time, had been successful in suppressinga Jacobite insurrection in Scotland, and embarked for Ireland with areinforcement in the summer of 1690. He immediately marchedagainst James, who was strongly posted on the river Boyne. Schombergpassed the river in person, and put himself at the head of a corpsof French Protestants. Pointing to the enemy, he said, “Gentlemen,behold your persecutors!” With these words he advanced tothe attack, but was killed by a random shot from the French regiments.The death of this general was near proving fatal to the English army;but William retrieved the fortune of the day, and totally dispersed theopposite force. In this engagement the Irish lost 1500 men, and theEnglish about one-third of that number.

Disturbances again took place among the Jacobites in the ScotchHighlands. A simultaneous insurrection was planned in both kingdoms,while a descent from the French coast was to have divided theattention of the friends of government; but the defeat of the Frenchfleet near Cape La Hogue, in 1692, frustrated this combined attempt,and relieved the nation from the dread of civil war. In 1691 theKing had placed himself at the head of the Grand Alliance againstFrance, of which he had been the prime mover; he was thereforeabsent on the continent during the dangers to which his new kingdomwas exposed. His repeated losses in the first two campaigns ratherimpaired than enhanced his military renown. He resolved to seize thefirst opportunity of retrieving his honour by a spirited attempt to surpriseMarshal Luxembourg, at Steenkirk, but was again defeated, afterhaving fought with courage and perseverance against unequal numbers.In 1693 he was defeated at Landen by Luxembourg, notwithstandinghis brave efforts to retrieve the fortune of the day. The victorywas held by the allies to have been gained solely by superior numbers;44and though the allies suffered severely, the enemy lost a greater numberboth of officers and men, and gained no solid advantage by the battle.William charged wherever the danger was greatest: his dress waspenetrated by three musket balls. But in this, as in other battles, hisarrangements were severely censured. When Luxembourg saw thenature of his position, immediately before the engagement, he is saidto have exclaimed, “Now I believe Waldeck is really dead:” in allusionto that general’s acknowledged skill in choosing ground for anencampment. The campaign of 1694 was opened by William withsuperior forces; but the genius and skilful tactics of Luxembourgprevented the allies from availing themselves, in any considerabledegree, of their advantages. The death of Queen Mary, which tookplace early in 1695, proved a severe calamity, both to the king andthe nation. She had been a vigilant guardian of her husband’sinterests, which were constantly exposed to hazard by the conflicts ofparty, and by the disadvantages under which he laboured as a foreigner.In 1696 a congress was opened at Ryswick, to negotiate a generalpeace; and William was so far cured of ambition as not to interposeany obstacles. In the following year the treaty was concluded.

The leading object of the English Parliament, when the war nolonger pressed on its resources, was the reduction of the military establishment.In this all parties concurred: the friends of liberty, fromjealousy of a standing army, as dangerous to the constitution; thefriends of the excluded family, from personal dislike of its supplanter,and a desire to thwart him in his favourite pursuit. The King ofSpain’s death was the last event of great importance in William’s reign.The powers of Europe had arranged plans to prevent the accumulationof the Spanish possessions in the houses of Bourbon and Austria;but the French King violated all his solemn pledges, by acceptingthe deceased monarch’s will in favour of his own grandson, the Dukeof Anjou. In consequence of this breach of faith, preparations weremade by England and Holland for a renewal of war with France;but a fall from his horse prevented William from further pursuing hismilitary career, and the glory of reducing Louis XIV. within thebounds of his own kingdom was left to be earned by the generals ofhis successor. The King was nearly recovered from the lameness consequenton his fall, when fever supervened. While he lay sick, the Earlof Albemarle arrived from Holland, to confer with him privately on thestate of continental affairs; but his information was coldly received, andthe King said that he was approaching his end. In the evening hethanked his principal physician for his attention, and said, “I know45that you and the other learned physicians have done all that your artcan do for my relief; but all means are ineffectual, and I submit.”He died on the 8th of March, 1701–2, in the fifty-second year of hisage and thirteenth of his reign.

The character of King William has been drawn with all the exaggerationof panegyric and obloquy by the opposing partisans in acause, which is still the subject of controversy on general principles,although the personal interest of contending individuals and familieshas long been extinguished. William therefore can scarcely, evennow, be viewed with the cool impartiality of mere history. Hispersonal character was neither amiable nor interesting: but his nativecountry owes him a lasting debt of gratitude, as the second founder ofits liberty and independence; and his adopted country is bound touphold his memory, as its champion and deliverer from civil and religiousthraldom. In short, the attachment of the English nation toconstitutional rights and liberal government may be measured by itsadherence to the principles established at the Revolution of 1688, andits just estimate of that Sovereign and those statesmen who placed theliberties of Great Britain on a solid and lasting foundation.

[Histoire des Provinces Unies, Voltaire, Burnet, Hume, Smollett.]

46

GOETHE.

If the opinion of his contemporaries become the judgment of posterity,the name of Goethe is destined to occupy, in future ages, thatpre-eminent station in the literary history of Germany which is nowundisputedly held in their respective nations, by Shakspeare, Dante,and Cervantes. Until this judgment be pronounced by the finaltribunal, we may characterize him as the happiest of great poets. Heattained a length of years granted to few; and his long life was spentin successful literary labour, not imposed by necessity, but promptedby the suggestions of his own genius and love of art. Nature hadendowed him with the much-prized gifts of bodily strength and personalbeauty. He indulged freely in the pleasures of society; associatedwith his superiors in station as their equal; lived in ease andaffluence; and, finally, in exception to the general rule, enjoyed,during his life,

The founders of the new theory of poetics in Germany, the Schlegels,have characterized his genius as universal. Its productions, includingposthumous writings, will occupy fifty-five volumes of works of imaginationand science, and cannot be even named by us individually.A few of these works, which have occasioned volumes of criticism, weshall be constrained to designate in brief sentences, and we shall asbriefly advert to the main incidents of the author’s life.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born of affluent parents, August28, 1749, at Frankfort on the Main. He attended successively theuniversities of Leipzig and Strasburg; and, in 1771, took a doctor’sdegree in jurisprudence; but from his early youth literature was hisruling passion. In his twenty-fourth year he had already acquired47unexampled popularity by his original and daring tragedy of ‘Götzvon Berlichingen,’ published in 1773. In 1774 he gained a Europeancelebrity by the ‘Sorrows of Werter;’ and he had already renderedhimself an object of admiration to the young, and of terror to the timid,by the publication of several pungent satirical writings, when his goodgenius guided to the vicinity of Frankfort the young Duke of SaxeWeimar, who was about to assume the government on coming of age.In accepting the friendship, and taking up his residence at the courtof this prince, Goethe entered on an unvarying career of prosperity.For a few years the young Duke and his friend led a life of gaiety,of which there are many curious anecdotes current in Germany; but,during a joyous and somewhat wild life, the intellectual singularlyprevailed over the sensual. Even during that course of dissipation,the most important of Goethe’s works were commenced, though noneof them were published until after his return from Italy. That countryhe visited in 1786, and to the time which he spent in it he everafter recurred with delight. Though Shakspeare was the individualpoet he most prized, and Greek the literature which he held up as therule of all excellence, Italy was the land of his affections. He remainedtwo winters in Rome. Here he cultivated the studies of archaeologyand the fine arts, which he had begun to practise in his youth, butnow abandoned for poetry and the study of nature.

To these pursuits, on his return to Germany, he applied as the chiefbusiness of his life; and the insignificance of the patron as a sovereigntended to render the poet more conspicuous, and to increase his powerover the minds of the Germans. The Duke was a general in the Prussianservice, and, as a minor power, followed the course of policy pursuedby the head of his house, the Elector of Saxony. He could not indulgein ambition, and spent his small revenue more like a private noblemanthan a sovereign prince. He was desirous to collect a library forthe use of himself and the inhabitants of Weimar. He had mines onone portion of his small territory. With the other Dukes of Saxonyhe was jointly the possessor of a university, Jena. He wished tofound a school of drawing; and the creation of a German theatre, andthe collecting eminent men of all kinds at Weimar and Jena, werethe especial objects of his ambition. In all these things Goethe wasthe right-hand to execute, if his, in fact, was not the mind to design.In the matters which most governments make their prime concern,such as finances, military affairs, and courts of justice, Goethe hadcertainly no inclination to take any part; he was what, in France,would be called a minister of public instruction. Scarcely was he48settled in his new office when the French Revolution broke out.This led to one famous exception to the life he was pursuing. Hehas recorded it in the volume of his ‘Memoirs,’ relating his participationin the too famous campaign of 1792, when he, as a non-combatant,accompanied the Duke of Saxe Weimar, who served under the Dukeof Brunswick in his famous march which did not reach to Paris. Theearly retirement of Prussia from the league against France restoredpeace to the North of Germany, and Goethe was at liberty to returnto his favourite pursuits. In the prosecution of these he had the happinesssoon to connect himself with Schiller, a man ten years youngerthan himself, of a genius totally opposite to his own, and thereforeperhaps best adapted to act in concert with him.

Goethe has, with delightful frankness, related how, exceedingly dislikingthe ‘Robbers,’ Schiller’s first, worst, and most famous play,and feeling a strong aversion towards the Kantian philosophy, to whichSchiller was attached, he had conceived an antipathy towards theoffending poet, whom he resolutely shunned. But having once met,the passionate zeal of Schiller in pursuit of their common objects wasirresistible. Dislike subsided into tolerance, and was at last convertedinto warm admiration and love. Memorable consequences followedfrom their union, and their literary correspondence remains an instructiveexample of what may be effected by the collision of powerful mindsof opposite character. Schiller died in 1804. During the time allottedto their joint exertions, Goethe produced many of his greatest works,and Schiller all the best of his. During the same period, Goethepursued his philosophical studies with the eminent men who then filledprofessors’ chairs at Jena. The metaphysical systems of Fichte, andafterwards of Schelling, which succeeded that of Kant, met with somefavour in his eyes. At least, though he kept aloof from the controversiesof the day, he laboured to connect with philosophical speculationshis own particular studies in various branches of natural historyand science.

It was after Schiller’s death, and when Goethe was approachinghis sixtieth year, that the storm of war unexpectedly burst uponWeimar and Jena. He did not leave Weimar; but aware of theperil to which he with every one was exposed, on the very day of thebattle of Jena, the 14th of October, 1806, he married a lady withwhom he had lived for many years, and at the same time legitimatedhis only child, a son. During the short period of extreme degradationinto which Prussia and Saxony sunk, from 1806 till the fall of Bonapartein 1813, he withdrew, as much as possible, from political life;49he would not suffer newspapers to be brought him, or politics to bediscussed in his presence, but fled to the arts and sciences as anasylum against the miserable realities of life. Such had always beenhis practice. He has said of himself that he never had a disease of themind which he did not cure by turning it into a poem. In his earlyyouth, having lost a mistress through foolish petulance of temper, he,as a penance, made his own folly the subject of a comedy. And, inafter life, while Europe was convulsed, he was absorbed in studiesindependent of the incidents of the day. Thus varying his pursuits,he kept on his serene course with no other interruptions than suchas inevitably befall those who attain old age. It was his lot tosurvive the associates of his youth. In 1827, he lost his early friend,from whom he had never been estranged, the Grand Duke of Weimar.In 1830, he met with a severer privation, in the death of his son atRome. It was feared that this calamity would prove fatal to Goethe,whose strength was sensibly declining; but he survived the blow, andenjoyed the best consolation which could be afforded to him in theexemplary care of his amiable and gifted daughter-in-law, and in histwo young grand-children, to whom he was tenderly attached. Hislast years were spent in cheerful retirement. He possessed an elegantand spacious house in Weimar, but he also had a cottage in the park,where he dwelt alone, receiving his friends tête-à-tête; and, on particularoccasions, going into the town to entertain company. Heretained his faculties to the last, and made a very precise dispositionof his property. His extensive collections in natural history and artwere directed to be preserved as a museum for twenty years. Thesewere among the objects of his latest solicitude. He died March 24,1832, in the eighty-third year of his age.

Goethe’s figure was commanding, and his countenance severelyhandsome. He appears to have acquired a great ascendency over hisfellow-students at the universities, and to have kept the professors inawe. In after life he was reproached by Bürger and others withhaughtiness, and was accused of making his inferiors in station andin genius too sensible of their inferiority; but his powers of captivationwere irresistible when he pleased to exert them. His social talentswere of the highest order. Such was Goethe for his own generationand country. To posterity he will live chiefly as a poet. Of his mostremarkable works we will now speak, not chronologically, but accordingto the classes which are recognised by systematic writers.

In epic poetry, his pretensions will be derided by those who adhereto the theory of M. Bossu, adopted by Pope. According to this, the50common opinion, the ‘Epos’ requires supernatural machinery, illustriousactors, and heroic incident. The German critics, on the contrary,maintain that the essential character of the Homeric poetry lies in theepic style, not in the subject of the narrative; a style analogous to thatof Herodotus, whom they place at the head of the epic historians, andto be found in a very large proportion of our own ancient ballads,such as relate to Robin Hood, Chevy Chase, &c. Goethe on this ideabegan a continuation of the Iliad in his ‘Achilleis,’ and he threw thegraces of his own style over the old epic fable of ‘Reynard the Fox.’But it was in ‘Herman and Dorothea’ that he displayed all his powers:this is both a patriotic and domestic tale; the characters in humblelife; the incident, a flight over the Rhine on the invasion of the French.It abounds in maxims of moral wisdom, and in pathos; but it is toonational to bear translating.

It is as a lyric poet that Goethe is popular in the fullest sense ofthe word, and may challenge comparison with the greatest masters ofall ages. In the song, he abounds in master-pieces, passionate andgay. His elegy has sometimes the erotic character of Propertius, (asin the famous ‘Roman Elegies,’) and sometimes emulates the refinementand purity of Petrarch: his ballads are as wild and tender asany that Spain or Scotland have produced. His very numerous epigramsbear more resemblance to the Greek Anthology than to thepointed style of the Latin writers. Besides these he has produced anumber of allegorical and enigmatical poems on art and philosophy,which cannot be placed under any known class.

Goethe’s dramatic works are about twenty in number. There isthis peculiarity in his career as a dramatic poet, that though the dramais essentially the most popular branch of poetry, he never wrote forthe people; his plays are all experiments, and no two resemble eachother. He seems to have been unaffectedly indifferent to their receptionon the stage. His first juvenile play, ‘Götz von Berlichingen,’was in prose, and unlike any thing that had appeared on the Germanboards. It exhibited, in a strong light, the manners of the Germansat a romantic period when the petty barons and knights were a sortof privileged freebooters, sometimes generously resisting the oppressionsof the emperor and the higher nobility, and sometimes plunderingthe citizens of the free towns. The style was in harmony with thesubject, daring in its originality, and all but licentious in its freedom.By audiences accustomed only to pedantic imitations of the French, itwas received with tumultuous applause; but the admiration of themore cultivated classes was given to the ‘Iphigenia in Tauris,’ an51echo, as Schlegel expresses it, of the Greek, yet neither a translationnor a copy. Christian purity of morals harmoniously blending withpagan incident, not a line disturbs the exquisite symmetry of this themost generally admired of Goethe’s dramas.

Not less perfect in style is the anomalous ‘Torquato Tasso,’ whichdeserves especial notice, though not as a play adapted to the stage:it is rather a didactic poem in dialogue than a drama. Tasso and thewarrior statesman Antonio exhibit in contrast the poetical characterand that of the man of the world. It could secure the attention of anaudience only when performed on the Duke’s private theatre, wherethe members of the Ducal family usually represented the princes ofthe House of Este, and Goethe himself acted the part of Tasso; andwhen it was performed as a sort of funeral obsequies on the death ofthe poet himself.

‘Egmont’ is an historical play in prose, founded on the real tragedyperpetrated by the bloody Alba, in Belgium. Its most remarkablefeature is the unheroic character of Egmont himself. While Williamof Orange is the common stage hero, patriotic and wise, destined tosave his country, Count Egmont is the warm-hearted, sensual, andmunificent nobleman, a patriot not from reflection but impulse, whoselove for the humble Clara is much more prominent than his patriotism,and who is therefore doomed to perish. The pathos lies in the dissonancebetween the man and the necessities of his position. Goethe,in drawing such a character, probably thought of Hamlet, of whomhe makes an analogous remark.

We pass over a number of dramas, all original, all experiments infurtherance of his own studies, and name only ‘Faustus,’ the unique,the undefinable. Begun in youth, continued at intervals during a longlife, and finally left unfinished, it has been called a grotesque tragedy.Who knows not the popular legend of the learned magician who soldhis soul to the devil? This coarse tale of vulgar superstition is hereused as a vehicle into which the adventurous poet has cast all that

The erring philosopher is attended on the wrong road by a laughingdevil, Mephistophiles, who leads him through scenes of the wildestfrolic and the most appalling wretchedness. All that is most deplorable,most frightful in human life, is here displayed with the runningcomment of the dæmon whom Omnipotence does not confound; andthe most awful problems of divinity and moral philosophy are treatedwith pathetic sadness by the wretched victim, or with infernal satire52by his master-slave. These repulsive elements are nevertheless combinedwith the soothing, not to say sanctifying, influence of a Margaret,a confiding, loving, innocent woman, whose very destructionworks on the heart like an act of grace, and prepares the spectator forthe promised salvation of her lover.

In the romance, as in the drama, Goethe commenced a career whichhe immediately abandoned. His Werter breathes a spirit of dissatisfactionwith the world and its institutions. But by writing that book,which infected the rising generation with the same spirit, he curedhimself of the disease; and he then became the declared foe of thesentimental, which he attacked in his romantic comedy, ‘The Triumphof Sentimentality.’

In later years, when he was become the meditating philosopher,and, at the same time, indulged in more cheerful contemplations oflife, he produced ‘Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship,’ intended toelucidate problems of psychology. The stage being the symbol of life,his hero is thrown among players, and both the real drama, and thedrama of life are analyzed, with perpetual illustrations of the one bythe other. After an interval of some years, Goethe, in a second part,exhibited his pupil advanced as on a sort of journey. Conscious thathis problem, like that of Faustus, was insoluble, he has not dared toexhibit either Faustus in heaven or Wilhelm as a master. Like theFaustus, Wilhelm Meister is still ‘caviare to the million.’

In a third romance, ‘Elective Affinities,’ Goethe treats subtilely ofthat passion to which Lord Bacon says “the stage is more beholdenthan the life of man.” As the chemical title suggests, he shows howthe felicity of a married couple is marred by the intrusion of otherminds, with which each consort has more affinity than with the companionpreviously chosen.

When ‘Wilhelm Meister’ first appeared, the narrative of Wilhelm’schildhood was related with such spirit and air of truth, that it wasbelieved to be the author’s own personal history; and, in truth, theresemblance between the feigned and real history was soon mademanifest by the appearance of Goethe’s own memoirs, under the puzzlingtitle ‘From my Life: Fiction and Truth;’ so entitled, to allowfor the unconscious illusions to which we are exposed, when, in advancedlife, we try to recollect the occurrences of childhood, and unintentionallyconfound memory with imagination. These memoirs, includinghis foreign travels, amount already to nine volumes, and othersare to follow; but these earlier volumes treat solely of the author’sintellectual life. Concerning much that men are inquisitive about, he53says nothing. Not a hint is dropped concerning the fortune of hisfather, or the amount of profit which he himself derived from hiswritings. His being ennobled was an incident which he thought toounimportant for notice; and of honours and distinctions conferred onhim he seldom condescends to speak.

Among the studies which partook of Goethe’s attention were antiquitiesand the fine arts. This led to the composition of a masterpiece,his critical characteristic of Winkelman, and an account ofHackert, the landscape painter. The same course of study led himto translate that delightful work, the auto-biography of BenvenutoCellini, which was first made known to the European public by theEarl of Bristol, late Bishop of Derry, and which is now in the hands ofall lovers of the fine arts. On art, in its various branches, Goethe’sprose writings are very numerous. As a critic also he has writtenmuch, and his criticism is remarkably indulgent and generous.

Such being the variety of works in which he has recorded his speculationson man, his powers, his actions, and his productions, it willbe naturally asked, what were the main features of his philosophy,and to what results did they lead on those great points which unhappilydisunite mankind, religion and politics?

Hume has well designated the great varieties of intellect and moralcharacter by the significant scholastic names of the Platonist, the Stoic,the Epicurean, and the Sceptic. According to this classification, itmay be said that Goethe was too devotedly attached to the study ofnature and actual life to be a Platonist; he loved contemplation toointensely, and was too indolent and self-indulgent to be a stoic; hewas too intellectual to be a gross sensualist, or, in the worst sense, anEpicurean; and he had too much imagination to be able to toleratethe modern rational philosophy, a mere system of negatives. In sofar, therefore, he was an enemy of vulgar scepticism; yet, blended withthe refinement which the poetic mind presupposes, he had a largeportion of scepticism and Epicureanism in his nature. Towards thepositive religion which he found established in his own country hemanifested respect, though he never made any distinct profession offaith upon doctrinal matters; he conformed however to the Lutheranchurch. On two occasions only do we recollect the expression of anystrong feeling as to religion. He early betrayed great contempttowards the German Rationalists, whom he rather despised for theirshallowness than reproached with being mischievous. His love ofRome by no means reconciled him to the Church of Rome, againstwhich he would inveigh with a warmth unusual in him. He maintained54that Catholic superstition had deeply injured the poetic characterof Calderon, and considered the Protestantism of Shakspeare as a happyaccident in the life of that incomparable man. It appears from hismemoirs, that Judaism and Christianity had occupied his mind veryseriously from his childhood. He delighted in portraying the Christianenthusiast in a tone of kindred enthusiasm, as in his ‘Confessions ofa Beautiful Soul,’ of which the original was a Moravian lady, hisfriend; and it was only in incidental bursts of sarcasm, especially inhis gayer poems, that he alarmed the timid and the scrupulous. In spiteof occasional ebullitions of spleen or rash speculation, he was habituallyhostile towards the French anti-religious party. He makes his devilin Faustus describe himself as the “spirit that always denies,” in thesame way that Alfieri scornfully terms Voltaire “Disinventor edInventor di nulla.” It was this negative, this merely destructive character,to which Goethe was in all things most resolutely opposed.

This sentiment extended to politics. Long before the words “Conservative”and “Destructive” were applied to English parties, Goethehad made frequent use of them. It was the tendency of his mind tolook with indulgence, if not with favour, on whatever he found in theexercise of productive power. Laudo manentem might have been hismotto. He saw in the French revolutionists, as in their philosophers,the spirit of destruction, and he clung with affection to institutionsunder which so many fine arts and rapidly advancing sciences hadflourished. With reference to public life, Goethe has been severelyreproached on two grounds. He has been accused of wantingpatriotism; but before a passion can be generated, an object must bepresented. What country had Goethe to love in his youth? Awalled city, which he could run round before breakfast. The firstgreat political event which he witnessed, was the Seven years’ war.His native city was in the possession of the French, whom one partyconsidered as allies and the other as enemies. Goethe’s father adheredto Frederick, his grandfather was attached to the ImperialHouse: at the best he could love but half a nation. Hence Wielandsaid, “I have no fellow-countrymen; I have only sprach-genossen,”—speech-mates.Thus German patriotism could be but a sort of corporationspirit; like the affections of a liveryman, confined to themembers of his company. It was not till the close of the last war thatthe common oppression exercised by Bonaparte generated a commonhatred towards France, and with it something like patriotism ona great scale. Yet so anomalous is the condition of Germany, that atthis moment this sentiment, or the loud avowal of it, is looked on asakin to disloyalty; and, at the universities, students are forbidden to55frequent clubs, or to assume denominations, which have a reference toone general national character. There are few appeals among Goethe’swritings to national feeling; and, in truth, his studies led him to be,in sentiment, the fellow-citizen of the great poets and artists of allnations, the contemporary of the great men of all ages. The otherreproach is, that, being admitted to familiarity with princes, he lost hislove of the people, as such. Now, it must be owned, that in this respecthe felt pretty much as Milton did, in whom attachment to the aristocracyof talent was a marked quality. Of the people, as such, he seems tohave thought lowly; his affections were exercised on the select few,—thenobles of nature, not of the herald’s office. That he had no vulgarreverence for persons in authority, or for the privileged orders, is amplyproved by all he wrote. It may finally be remarked, as the most characteristicfeature of his moral speculations, that he had habituallycontemplated mankind, not as a moralist, but as a naturalist. There aresome thinkers who never consider men but as objects of praise orblame; others, who only study men with a view of making them differentfrom what they are. Such are reformers, the leaders of institutions,philanthropists, who think only in order to act. To neither ofthese classes did Goethe belong. He took men as he found them;he was content to take society as he found it, with all its complexinstitutions. He was disposed to make the best of what he found,but seemed reluctant to waste his powers in the vain attempt to makemen materially different from what they were before; hence arose aninert, or indolent acquiescence in what he found existing.

He had early in life laboured to catch a new point of view fromwhich nature might be contemplated on all sides; or a law in conformitywith which the manifold operations of nature might be seen asif they were one. He first made this idea known in his ‘Metamorphosisof Plants.’ His botanical studies were continued for many years of hislife. He afterwards busied himself with the minute and experimentalstudy of chromatics. He edited a journal of science, and wrote moreor less on mineralogy, geology, comparative anatomy, optics, andmeteorology. A metaphysical spirit runs through all these writings,so alien from the mode of study pursued in other countries, that we donot recollect any notice of them by any English writer, except ProfessorLindley, in his ‘Introduction to Botany,’ who confines his remarks toGoethe’s botanical works. The Professor represents Goethe as havingrevived a nearly-forgotten doctrine, first promulgated by Linnæus.But, for thirty years after the first appearance of the ‘Metamorphosis,’it produced little or no effect even in Germany. Now, indeed, “ithas come to be considered the basis of all scientific knowledge of56vegetable structure.” Whether, in the revolutions of opinion, the boldpolemical writings of Goethe against the Newtonian theory of lightand colours will ever be looked upon as more than the extravagancesof a great genius wandering out of his own sphere, time will show.For the present this is the view taken of the great poet’s scientific writings,both by Italians and Frenchmen. But, whatever dreams he mayhave mixed up with his investigations, Goethe was no mere dreamer:to the last hour of his life, he made it his business to inform himselfconcerning the progress of the sciences in foreign countries. Allnew books were brought to him, even to the end of his life; hecomposed elaborate poems at the age of seventy; and when beyondsixty years of age, entered with zeal upon the study of Oriental poetry,to apply the spirit of which, to Western notions and feelings, he composedhis ‘West-Eastern Divan.’ In this the infinite variety of hisstudies and pursuits lay that ‘all-sidedness’ (if we may be pardonedfor adopting such a word from the German) for which he was so remarkable.From the same quality proceeded that unusual tolerationof novelties which he could reconcile to the love of what is established.He would not permit a clever farce to be acted on the stage, when hewas manager, written in derision of Gall’s cranioscopy. Instead ofjoining in the ridicule of animal magnetism, he would fairly investigateits pretensions. When a book on the Clouds was published by Howard,in England, Goethe instantly wrote an account of it, inventing appropriateGerman words to designate the forms pointed out. In his hungerand thirst after knowledge, he was omnivorous. This was the rulingpassion strong in death. Only the evening before his decease he receivedsome new books from Paris, by which he was greatly excited.It is said that a volume, by Salvandy, was grasped in his hand whenhe died; and his last words were singularly appropriate to his temper,and might be received by his admirers as almost prophetic. Heordered the window-shutters to be opened, exclaiming, “More light!More light!”

57

CORREGGIO.

The beginning of the sixteenth century, a period remarkable forthe general developement of Italian genius, was peculiarly distinguishedby the appearance of four great painters, who attaineda perfection, since unequalled, in different departments of their art.Form and sublimity of conception were the attributes of M. Angelo;expression and propriety of invention were among the prominentexcellencies of Raffaelle; colour was the strength of Titian; and harmony,founded on light and shade, chiefly characterised Correggio.Antonio Allegri was born in 1493, or 1494; the name of hisbirth-place superseded that of his family, and he has been celebratedunder the name of Antonio da Correggio. He was the son ofPellegrino Allegri, a merchant of some property, and his lineage,which was long doubtful, has been traced with sufficient accuracyby his latest biographer, Pungileoni. The family name was sometimesLatinised to Lætus and de Allegris, and again Italianised toLieto, which accounts for the various inscriptions on Correggio’spictures. Till the researches of the author above-named, who supplied,as far as possible, what Mengs had left imperfect, the most contradictoryaccounts were repeated respecting the family, the fortunes, and eventhe precise time of the birth and death of Correggio. The story of hisextreme poverty, in particular, has been often copied without examinationfrom Vasari; but, as Fuseli observes, “considering the publicworks in which Correggio was employed, the prices he was paid forthem, compared with the metropolitan prices of Raffaelle himself, it isprobable that his circ*mstances kept pace with his fame, and that hewas nearer to opulence than want.” It is still doubtful under whomhe studied; but, as his uncle Lorenzo was a painter, it is probablethat Antonio learned the rudiments of art from him; and a single58specimen extant of one Antonio Bartolotto, a contemporary master, isso much in the style of Correggio, as to justify the conjecture that theexample, at least, of the elder painter was not without its effect. Theresidence of Andrea Mantegna at no greater distance than Mantua,has perhaps led some writers to rank Correggio among his scholars;but his death, when Correggio was only thirteen years of age, rendersthe supposition improbable. That Correggio studied the works ofMantegna is most certain: his fondness for foreshortening was probablyderived from that master; nor should it be forgotten, that theschool of Andrea was celebrated after his death, and was still continuedby his sons Francesco and Lodovico. Vedriani mentions anothermaster, Francesco Bianchi, of Modena, but with as little certainty asthe rest. The peculiar impasto[3] which distinguishes the pictures ofCorreggio, a mode of execution which he carried to sudden perfection,and which has never since been surpassed, is less to be recognised, asLanzi supposes, in the manner of Mantegna than in that of Lionardoda Vinci; and even the chiaro-scuro of Correggio, however enlargedand improved, is manifestly derived from the same source. The art offoreshortening on ceilings, called by the Italians “il di sotto in su,”was also practised in the Mantuan school before Correggio; whether inimitation of the celebrated ceiling of Melozzo da Forlì, the first knowneffort of the kind, painted in Rome in 1472, it is impossible to say.

3.Impasto is literally an impasting or thick application of the colour. The peculiarityof Correggio’s method is, that this impasto is solid without roughness of surface, andblended without heaviness or opacity. Sir Joshua Reynolds says, “His (Correggio’s)colour and mode of finishing approach nearer to perfection than those of any otherpainter.”

Among the earliest works of Correggio, Lanzi mentions somefrescoes at Mantua, supposed to have been done while the artist wasin the school of the sons of Mantegna; but a very feeble tradition isthe only ground for this supposition. The same author speaks of morethan one Madonna in the Ducal Gallery at Modena, as belonging tothis early period. A considerable picture, painted by Correggio wheneighteen years of age, and the undoubted work of his hand, is preservedat Dresden; it was originally done for the church of S. Niccola,at Carpi. It represents the Virgin seated on a throne, surroundedby various saints; the inscription is, “Antonio de Allegris.”The colouring of this picture, as Mengs observes, is in a style betweenthat of Perugino and Lionardo da Vinci. The head of the Virgin, headds, greatly resembles the manner of Lionardo; the folds of the draperyappear as if done by Mantegna, that is, in the mode of encircling thelimbs, but they are less hard, and are in a larger style. Two pictures59painted about the same time are mentioned, and somewhat differentlydescribed, by Tiraboschi and Lanzi. One was an altar-piece for achurch at Correggio, representing various saints; it was blackenedand injured by a varnish, and removed from the altar as useless, acopy being substituted in its place. The original has been sincecleaned, and according to Lanzi is recognised as an early work of themaster. The other was an altar-piece, in three compartments, thecentre subject of which was a repose of the Holy Family. The twowings, representing two saints, are lost; but the Holy Family is probablythe picture now in the Florence Gallery, attributed by Barry toCorreggio, and only doubtful, in the opinion of some connoisseurs,from its dryness of manner, as compared with the later works of themaster. A picture belonging to the Duke of Sutherland, and formerlyin the Orleans gallery, representing a muleteer and other figures, issupposed by some to be an early work of Correggio, but it has noneof the hardness of the Carpi altar-piece to warrant this conjecture.

In the picture in the Florence Gallery of the Madonna adoring herInfant, and in the Noli me tangere of the Escurial, to which Lanziadds a Marsyas, in the possession of the Marchese Litta of Milan,the artist already approached that excellent style, which has beendesignated by the epithet ‘Correggiesque.’ The Marsyas is mentionedin the catalogue of Charles I. The two small pictures of themarriage of St. Catherine, one in the gallery at St. Petersburgh, theother in that of Naples, belong to the same period. In that preservedat St. Petersburgh, the name of Allegri is translated to Lieto; the dateis 1517. The larger, and probably later picture of this subject, withthe addition of the figure of St. Sebastian, is in the Louvre. Thecelebrated picture of S. Giorgio, now at Dresden, has been consideredto belong to this period. It was painted for the confraternity ofS. Pietro Martire, at Modena. This work, containing many figures,and among the rest some children, in the peculiarly graceful manner ofCorreggio, which were afterwards the admiration of Guido, has allthe excellencies of the master, except that magic of chiaro-scuro forwhich he was subsequently so celebrated. It may be remarked, thatthe sweetness of expression in Correggio’s children and women wasprobably derived from Lionardo da Vinci, as certain peculiarities ofresemblance are to be traced between them.

In 1519, Correggio married Girolama Merlini, from whom Pungileonisupposes the Madonna, called the Zingarella, to have been painted.She was a lady of birth and condition, and brought him a sufficientdowry; and this is an additional proof of the incorrectness of theassertions of Vasari, respecting the extreme poverty of the painter.60It must be remembered too, that from this time, when he was abouttwenty-five years of age, his employment constantly increased; andfrom the nature of the works he was engaged in, it is quite evidentthat he was reckoned the best painter in Lombardy.

About this period Correggio began his career in Parma, and hisfirst paintings there were the admirable frescoes in the monastery ofS. Paolo. A particular and most satisfactory account of these hasbeen published by Padre Affò. The reputation which this performancegained him, induced the monks of S. Giovanni to employ him in thedecoration of their church. The works executed by Correggio on thisoccasion are in his grandest manner: the Cupola represents the ascensionof Christ; the figures of the Apostles, of gigantic size, occupythe lower part. The subject in the Tribune was the Coronation ofthe Virgin. It was so esteemed, that when that part of the churchwas demolished to enlarge the choir, the design was repainted forthe new Tribune by Cesare Aretusi, according to some, from a copyby Annibale Caracci. The principal group of the original was fortunatelysaved, and is still to be seen in the Library at Parma; its grandeurof invention and treatment classes it among the highest productionsof the art. Round the central group were some figures andheads of angels. The fragments of these were dispersed when theTribune was destroyed; and the portions of frescoes by Correggio, whichexist in various collections, are probably a part of these ruins.

Those who contend that Correggio had visited Rome, suppose thathe may have caught some inspiration from the works of M. Angelo;and Ratti imagines, that the Last Judgment was seen and imitated byhim; but this work was not begun till after the death of Correggio.Lanzi smiles at the mistake of the author just mentioned; but ifCorreggio visited Rome, which, on the whole, does not appearprobable, he may have seen the ceiling of the Capella Sistina, paintedin 1511; and this is more likely to have inspired him than the LastJudgment, even supposing that he could have seen both. There is,however, a remarkable difference between the treatment of the cupolasof Correggio and that of the ceiling of M. Angelo (even setting aside thewell-known distinctions of their taste in design), and the execution inboth the examples alluded to, is exactly analogous to the styles of thetwo painters. M. Angelo, though a master of foreshortening, has notsupposed his figures to be above the eye, but opposite to it, so that theyare still intelligible when seen in any other situation, as for instance,when copied in an engraving. Correggio, on the other hand, alwaysaimed at giving the perspective appearance of figures above the eye;and the violent foreshortening, which was the consequence, renders61his figures unintelligible, because improbable, except in their originalsituation, where their effect, aided by his light and shade, mustundoubtedly have been astonishing. Nevertheless, if the end andperfection of the art is to meet the impressions of nature by correspondingrepresentation, and to embody the remembered appearances ofthings, it is quite evident that foreshortening on ceilings, as it necessarilypresents the human figure, and indeed all objects, in a modeabsolutely foreign to our experience, must in the same degree departfrom the legitimate end of imitation, and can only excite wonder atthe artist’s skill. The difference of treatment alluded to belongs inother respects to two distinct views of the art. M. Angelo aimedat the real and permanent qualities of whatever he represented; ataste derived from his knowledge of sculpture, and certainly, as producinga most intelligible style of art, more nearly allied to theprinciples of the Greeks. Correggio, on the contrary, loved all theattributes of appearance and illusion; his skill in the managementof aërial perspective, and the magic of his chiaro-scuro, by which hesecured space, relief, and gradation, are qualities less allied to thereality and perspicuity which characterise the grandest style of theformative arts in general, (as opposed to the vagueness of poeticaldescription,) than to the specific excellencies which distinguish paintingfrom sculpture. Even his colour, true as it is, is still subordinate to hislight and shade. It is with reference to the uniting and blending principleof light and shade, which presents differences of degree, but notof kind, that the term harmony has been so often employed as describingthe characteristic style of Correggio, and the expression is quite distinctfrom that harmony (the commoner acceptation) which is often appliedto the balance and opposition of colours. In the same church ofS. Giovanni were the pictures of the Deposition from the Cross, and theMartyrdom of S. Placido and Sta. Flavia, which were taken to Paris;and on the outside of a chapel are the remains of a grand figure ofSt. John, in fresco. The well-known Madonna della Scodella, anda fresco of a Virgin and Child, in the Capella della Scala, were perhapspainted about this time. The frescoes of S. Giovanni occupiedCorreggio from 1520 to 1523. The celebrated picture of the Nativity,generally called the Notte, now at Dresden, appears to have beenbegun in the interval, as the agreement respecting it bears the date of1522; but it was not placed in the church of S. Prospero at Reggio,for which it was destined, till 1530. The Notte is the picture mostfrequently referred to as a specimen of that harmony, founded on theskilful management of light and shade, in which Correggio is unrivalled.The source of the picturesque in this work, the emanation ofthe light from the infant Christ, is at the same time sublime as an62invention. “The idea,” as Opie observes, “has been seized withsuch avidity, and produced so many imitations, that no one is accusedof plagiarism. The real author is forgotten, and the public, accustomedto consider this incident as naturally a part of the subject, havelong ceased to inquire when, or by whom, it was invented.” Eventhe angels in the upper part of the picture still receive light from theinfant, and the attention is thus constantly directed to the principalsubject. The same end is very happily answered by a shepherdess,shading her eyes with her hand, as if dazzled by the light: this figureis particularly mentioned by Vasari. It is remarkable that the samefeeling for gradation in the mutable effects of light and shade, displaysitself in this composition in the rapid perspective diminution of thefigures. The shepherd in the foreground is quite gigantic, comparedwith the more distant figures; and the effect of proximity and distance,and the space of the picture, is greatly aided by this contrivance.The same principle is observable in Correggio’s cupolas.

The commission for the St. Jerome, placed in the church of S.Antonio Abbate, at Parma, in 1528, one of the artist’s finest works,was given in 1523. There is a copy of this picture by LodovicoCaracci in the Bridgewater Gallery. The attitude and expression ofthe Magdalen are justly celebrated: she is represented paying herhomage to the infant Christ, by pressing his foot against her cheek.The St. Sebastian, now at Dresden, one of the most striking specimensof Correggio’s magic chiaro-scuro, is supposed by Pungileoni to belongto this period. This picture, like the Notte, is remarkable for anexquisite truth of tint in the passages from light to dark. The infinitegradations of chiaro-scuro are rendered still more mysterious fromthis truth of colour in the half-tints and shadows, and, as in nature, thespectator is soon unconscious of the presence of shade. These imperceptibletransitions are confined to the treatment of light and shade,and contrast finely with the pronounced differences of local colour.In this respect the style of Correggio is very different from the systemof blending, or, as it is called, breaking the colours: the contrast ofhues is undoubtedly mitigated by the negative nature of his shade;but though fully alive to the value of general tone, of which the St.Sebastian is a powerful instance, he seems never to have lost sight ofthe principle, that the office of colour is to distinguish, and that of lightand shade to unite—the first being proper to each object, the secondcommon to all objects.

The peculiar softness for which Correggio is distinguished, is also tobe traced to his feeling for the richness and union produced by shade;but he is by no means uniformly soft, like some of his imitators; as, forexample, Vanderwerf, whose model seems to have been the Magdalen63at Dresden. The principal figures in Correggio’s pictures, or theirprincipal portions, are sometimes relieved in the most distinct manner;as, for instance, the head of the Madonna in this very picture of St.Sebastian, remarkable above all his works for its general softness ofoutline. As in his light and shade the two extremes of bright anddark are united by every minutest degree between them, so in hisforms, every gradation from absolute hardness to undefined and almostimperceptible outline, is also to be observed. Variety in the intensitiesof shade evidently involves variety in the precision of outlines; butthe distinctness of forms in Correggio’s finest works is also regulatedby their prominence, importance, or beauty. Lastly, characteristic imitationis greatly aided by his discrimination in this particular. Vasarijustly commends Correggio’s peculiarly soft manner in painting hair;but this extreme softness, so true a quality of the object, is generallycontrasted in his works with the character of some totally different substance.Thus, in the Reclining Magdalen Reading, the print of whichis well known, the crystal vase, her usual attribute, placed near her head,is painted with the utmost sharpness, and thus heightens the beauty andtruth of the hair, which is remarkable for its undulating softness.

The fame which the frescoes of S. Giovanni procured for their author,even in their commencement, led to his decorating the cathedral ofParma; and the engagement respecting the works therein executed isdated 1522. The subject of the octagonal cupola of the cathedral isthe Assumption of the Virgin: a multitude of figures covered the vastsurface, and, when the work was in its best state, are described asappearing to float in space. The foreshortenings in this cupola aresuch as to make the figures appear altogether distorted, except whenseen from below, and Mengs himself was astonished at their apparentdeformity when he inspected them near. The figures of the Apostlesand angels, in various attitudes, occupy the lower portion of the cupola;and in four lunettes underneath are represented the patron saints of thecity, the whole being supposed to be lighted by the glory from above.It is evident that Correggio’s feeling for gradation dictated the inventionand treatment of his subject in many instances: the wholescale of light and shade cannot be more happily or naturally available,than when the light is supposed to emanate from a point, and graduallylose itself in the opposite extremes; and it happens, that in everyinstance in which this painter employed the principle, as in thecupolas, the Notte, the St. Sebastian, the Christ in the Garden, &c.,the subject itself gained in sublimity. The difference between thecupola of the cathedral and that of S. Giovanni, affords an additionalproof of the tendency of Correggio’s general taste as it became furtherdeveloped. A grandeur more allied to simplicity is the comparative characteristic64of the latter, while in the cathedral the multitude of figures,the variety of arrangement and attitude, and the richness and splendorof the light and shade, are calculated to affect the imagination as witha dazzling vision. It has been justly observed by Fuseli, that Correggio’streatment of this cupola is “less epic or dramatic than ornamental.”It must, however, be remembered, that the surface he hadto cover, the interior of a high cupola, could hardly have been occupiedby subjects in which form on expression, as predominant qualities,could have produced their effect when seen from below. The onlymode which remained was assuredly altogether adapted to the genius ofCorreggio: space, gradation, chiaro-scuro, were not only the means mostlikely to be effective in such a situation, but they were precisely the excellenciesin which he was pre-eminent. Nevertheless, the example wasa seducing one, and was likely to be followed where local circ*mstanceswould not so entirely warrant it; and, as the author above quoted observes,“if the cupola of Correggio be, in its kind, unequalled by earlieror succeeding plans, if it leave far behind the effusions of Lanfrancoand Pietro da Cortona, it was not the less their model; the ornamentalstyle of machinists dates not the less its origin from him.” Inorder to give that true foreshortening which was calculated to produceillusion from below, Correggio was assisted by the sculptor Begarelli,who supplied him with small models in clay from which he drew.According to Ratti, one of these was found on the cornice of the cupolaby a Florentine painter towards the close of the last century. Some ofthe drawings by Correggio in the Lawrence collection are supposedto have been studies made from these models. It has been assertedthat Correggio himself worked in marble; some figures in a group,by Begarelli, in the church of Sta. Margherita, are ascribed to him,but on very slight grounds. After all, it appears that he neverentirely finished the work he had undertaken to do in the cathedral.The Tribune was not begun, and even a few figures in the lowerpart of the cupola are said to have been added by Bedoli. The causeof this suspension of Correggio’s labours has been attributed, withsome probability, to the absurd criticisms of his employers. It issaid that they referred to Titian (who is supposed to have visitedParma with the Emperor Charles V.) to decide whether they shouldcancel the whole, and that the great Venetian rebuked their ignorance,by pronouncing it to be the finest composition he had ever seen.

Correggio ceased to work in the cathedral in 1530, about four yearsbefore his death. A great number of his oil pictures are assigned tothis period, more indeed than he could have executed, and some ofthem must therefore belong to an earlier time. Be the precise orderof their dates what it may, the quantity which Correggio did in his65short life is quite as astonishing as the multitude of Raffaelle’s productions,especially when we consider the number of assistants employed bythe latter. Among his last works, Correggio painted two pictures forFederigo, Duke of Mantua; the subjects were Leda, and Venus, accordingto Vasari. The latter was probably the Mercury teachingCupid to read, in which composition Venus is introduced; or it mayhave been the Jupiter and Antiope, now in the Louvre. Both arementioned in the catalogue of Charles I., as having come from Mantua;and the Antiope is described as “a Sleeping Venus and Cupid, anda Satyr, &c., three entire figures, so big as the life.” The originalLeda, much mutilated, is now at Potsdam; a repetition of the Danaëis in the Borghese palace in Rome; the Io, a picture of the same class,is supposed to have been destroyed, but repetitions of it exist inVienna and in this country. The taste for such subjects, which, inCorreggio’s time, was encouraged by the example of the great, is nowreprobated as it deserves, and it is to be hoped will never be revived;but, in reference to the tendency of the painter’s taste and powers in thechoice and treatment of subjects, it must be evident that the effect ofsoft transitions of light and shade, as opposed to the lively distinctnessof colour and forms, is of itself allied to the voluptuous. The principlewas applied by Correggio, as we have seen, in subjects of purity andsublimity: these, united with the soothing spell of his chiaro-scuro,and with forms of grace and beauty, excite a calm and pleasing impressionby no means foreign to the end proposed; but the application wasunfortunately still more successful where he united beauty and mysteryin subjects addressed to very different feelings.

The Magdalen Reading, now at Dresden; the Christ praying in theGarden, in the possession of the Duke of Wellington; and the Eccehom*o; are all celebrated pictures of the best time of Correggio. TheEcce hom*o, and the Mercury teaching Cupid to read, have lately beensecured for the National Gallery; the first came from the Colonnapalace at Rome, the other was purchased out of the collection ofCharles I. by the Duke of Alva, in whose family it remained till itbecame the property of Murat; and a few years since it was restoredto this country. The small picture of the Virgin and Child, in theNational Gallery, is also a pleasing specimen of the master.

Vasari, who is silent as to the time of Correggio’s death, relates anabsurd story of the manner in which it happened, now scarcely worthcontradicting. According to him, the painter received a payment ofsixty crowns in copper, which he carried from Parma to Correggio,and caught a fever in consequence from over-fatigue, of which he died.The sum thus paid in copper is computed to exceed two hundredweight!66This incident, unobjectionable in a work of fiction, is introducedin an interesting drama called ‘Correggio,’ by the Danish poetOehlenschläger. The researches of Pungileoni have proved thatCorreggio died in easy, if not in affluent circ*mstances. The exclamationsof Annibale Caracci, in some of his letters, respecting theunhappy fate of Correggio, amount only to regret that he was confinedto a comparatively remote part of Italy, and that he was not knownin Rome or Florence, where his talents would undoubtedly have beenstill better rewarded.

This great painter died almost suddenly, at his native place, of amalignant fever, March 6, 1534, in the forty-first year of his age. Hewas buried in the Franciscan convent of the Frati Minori at Correggio,where the record of his death was found.

For a full account of Correggio and his works, the history of Pungileoni,above mentioned, may be consulted. It was published atParma, in three octavo volumes, in 1817, 1818, and 1821. The bestaccount in English is contained in an anonymous work, entitled,“Sketches of the Lives of Correggio and Parmegiano.”—1823.

The original, from which our engraving is taken, is a face painted onthe wall adjoining the Cathedral door at Parma, by Correggio himself,from which it was copied, with the necessary additions to suit it for anengraving, by J. B. Davis, Esq.

67

NAPOLEON.

Born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, August 15, 1769. He was the eldestbut one of a family of thirteen children; and his father, who was poor,though well descended, gladly embraced an opportunity of sending himto the Military College at Brienne, in France. Here he was noted foraversion to the society of his fellows, and to the amusem*nts of boyhood.He was fond of imitating the operations of war, and displayedan unusual taste for the study of history and civil government; but hemade no extraordinary progress in any branch of his education, exceptmathematics, in which he succeeded so well, that in his fifteenth yearhe was selected for removal to the Royal Military School at Paris.There he so zealously devoted himself to military studies, that oncompleting his sixteenth year he received his commission as Lieutenantof Artillery.

He remained unknown, and with little chance of promotion, untilafter the overthrow of the French monarchy in 1793. In the excessesof the Revolution he did not share; but his Jacobinical principles,which he advocated in a pamphlet entitled the ‘Supper of Beaucaire,’recommended him to Robespierre and his colleagues, and, in conjunctionwith his reputation as an engineer, procured him the command ofthe artillery at the siege of Toulon, the capture of which was whollyowing to his skill. He mainly contributed to the success of the Frencharms on the Italian frontier; but the honour and the rewards weregathered by his superiors: and, in 1794, on the downfall of Robespierre’sgovernment, he was deprived of his command as chief of battalion.For a time he remained in a state of neglect and poverty; and, withoutprospect of immediate advancement, indulged alternately in visionaryschemes of greatness, and sober plans for obtaining a moderate68competency. In 1795, his fortunes were suddenly advanced by thedanger of the French Government, which, at the suggestion of Barras,entrusted to him the defence of the Tuileries against the NationalGuard and mob of Paris, on the 13th Vendémiaire (October 4th). Theauthority of the Government was restored by the successful exertionsof Buonaparte; and, in requital for this service, he was made Generalof the Army of the Interior. This office soon ceased to afford scopefor his abilities; and the Directory, aware of the necessity of employinghis ardent talents, appointed him General of the Army of Italy,then opposed to the Austrians. A few days before his departure fromParis he married Josephine, the widow of Viscount Beauharnois, anamiable woman, who by her talents and graces assisted in advancinghis fortunes, and during some years exercised great influence over him.

Buonaparte entered Italy early in 1796, passing between the Alps andthe Apennines. In the course of eighteen months he made six successfulcampaigns, destroyed five Austrian armies, and conquered nearly thewhole of Italy. He obliged the Pope and other Italian sovereigns tosend their choicest treasures of art to Paris, a measure imitated fromancient Rome, and savouring more of the spirit of ancient conquest, thanof the mitigated warfare of modern times. Among the more memorablebattles fought during this war, were those of Lodi, Roveredo,Arcole, Rivoli, and Tagliamento. Buonaparte’s activity and skill counterbalancedthe numerical inferiority of his troops; and his personalcourage, and readiness of resources under difficulties, procured him agreat ascendency over the soldiery, by whom he was familiarly calledthe “Little Corporal.” At the conclusion of this war, in 1797, theterritories of Venice were divided between France and Austria, thePope was deprived of part of his temporal dominions, and a number ofthe conquered states were united to form the Cisalpine Republic. Hismilitary talents being now no longer needed, Buonaparte was obligedto resign his command. Hitherto he had professed a warm attachmentto the democracy, and even sided with that party in the revolutionof the 18th Fructidor (September 4, 1797), when the democraticmembers of the Directory deposed their colleagues. His conductin remodelling some of the Italian governments threw a doubt on thesincerity of his democratic principles, which was latterly increasedby the assertion of the dignity of his rank amongst his officers, and byhis tenacious resistance to every attempt made by the Directory todivide or control his power in the command of the army.

He returned to Paris in January, 1798; and although keenly attentiveto the state of the various political parties, he maintained a prudent69reserve, adopting the appearance and pursuits of a private citizen.Finding no immediate chance of obtaining a share in the Government,and that he was daily incurring suspicion, he again sought militaryemployment. Being satisfied at this period of the impracticabilityof invading England, he projected the conquest of Egypt. Forthis purpose, in May, 1798, a splendid armament was equipped atToulon, with every requisite for colonizing the country and prosecutingscientific and antiquarian researches. He reached Egypt in July,expelled, after several hard-fought battles, the dominant military casteof Mamelukes, and made subjects of the native Egyptians. His administration,except in an absurd attempt to conciliate the natives byprofessing Mahometanism, was that of a wise and politic statesman;and there was every prospect that the French, although insulated fromEurope by the destruction of their fleet at Aboukir, would permanentlyestablish themselves in Egypt. Many improvements, by which thecountry has since derived signal benefit, were introduced by him; andto the scientific department of the expedition we are indebted for thefoundation of our present knowledge of the natural history and antiquitiesof Egypt. Early in 1799, Buonaparte apprized Tippoo Saibof his design of marching against the British in India. The hostilitiesof the Ottoman Porte induced him, however, to invade Syria. Aftercrossing the desert, and taking El-Arish, Jaffa, and Gaza, he wasrepulsed at Acre by Sir Sidney Smith, and compelled to make adisastrous retreat on Egypt. Jaffa is remarkable for two occurrenceswhich have deeply affected the fame of Buonaparte. One of these isthe massacre of a large body of Turkish prisoners, who were shotunder the pretext that they had previously been liberated at El-Arishupon parole not to serve against the French. The other is hisordering some of his own soldiers, who were incurably sick of theplague, to be poisoned with opium, rather than abandon them to theenemy, or endanger the rest of the army by transporting them with it.The suggestion was certainly made; but it appears equally certainthat it was not acted on, in consequence of the remonstrances of themedical officers. The retreat was closed by a battle at Alexandria,in which the Turkish army was totally defeated.

The French rule being established in Egypt, Buonaparte becamevery anxious to return to France, where circ*mstances seemed tofavour his ambition. He left his army secretly in August, and arrivedin Paris in October, having by singular good fortune escaped theBritish cruisers, and evaded the impediments imposed by the quarantinelaws. He was received with joy by the people, now weary ofthe feeble administration of the Directory, which, having lost all the70late conquests, could preserve their country neither against invasionfrom abroad, nor from anarchy at home.

Three weeks after his return, Buonaparte overthrew the existingGovernment by a conspiracy, in which he was assisted by all men ofmilitary or political eminence, with very few exceptions: and, with ageneral concurrence, he was invested with the supreme executiveauthority, under the title of First Consul of France. His nominal colleaguessoon became the mere instruments of his ambition. Althoughhe left France only the semblance of a free government, it cannot bedenied that Buonaparte was, in some respects, a real benefactor to thestate. Social order was maintained. The public exercise of religionwas restored, and a treaty, termed the Concordat, was concluded with thePope, by which the French Church was released from the supremacyhitherto claimed and exercised by the Holy See. A uniform code oflaws, which recognised no adventitious distinctions, henceforth affordedequal protection to the whole community; office and power were fairlyopened to the competition of merit, and the Legion of Honour wasinstituted for the reward of talent and worth in every class of life.Buonaparte restrained the contentions of parties, and rendered theirleaders, such as Talleyrand, Carnot, Fouché, Moreau, and Bernadotte,subservient to his interests; whilst the people, enjoying the benefit ofan able and safe administration, were indifferent to their ruler’s schemesfor personal aggrandizement.

Having restored peace and security at home, Buonaparte soughtto gratify the national thirst for glory by foreign victories. In 1800,he marched an army across the Alps by the route of the Great St.Bernard, descended unexpectedly on the rear of the Austrians, and,June 14, gave them a complete overthrow at Marengo. Having recoverednearly all the former conquests of the French by this battle,he returned to Paris to avail himself of this triumph to advance hispower. But the rejection of the overtures of the Bourbons, and theobvious design of Buonaparte to appropriate the crown to himself, ledto a union between the Royalists and Jacobins; and plots were formedagainst his life, from one of which he narrowly escaped. In Novemberhe resumed hostilities against Austria; and the battle of Hohenlinden,gained by Moreau, December 2, concluded the war. Austria thenacknowledged the Cisalpine Republic, and permitted France to possessthe boundary of the Rhine, and to annex Holland to her dominions.The war, continued by England, was distinguished for the battle ofCopenhagen, fought April 2, 1801, by which the Northern MaritimeConfederacy was broken up; and for the recovery of Egypt from theFrench by the army of Abercrombie: it was ended in 1802, by the71Treaty of Amiens. A short interval of peace ensued, during whichBuonaparte strengthened his personal power by becoming First Consulfor life, with the right of naming his successor. He also constitutedhimself President of the Italian and Helvetian Republics, by whichthese states became in fact provinces of France.

In 1803, Great Britain, provoked by the restlessness of Buonaparte’sambition, again declared war against France. The First Consul answeredthis declaration by imprisoning about ten thousand Englishsubjects, who were travelling in his dominions. He also seized theElectorate of Hanover, and made vast preparations for invading England.Early in 1804, the Royalist and Jacobin parties again endangeredhis life. Amongst the conspirators were Pichegru and Moreau;the latter, however, was not privy to any design of assassination.These plots also proved abortive, and, in crushing them, Buonaparteincreased the stability of his power. He established a special commissionfor the trial of all persons suspected of political crimes, withoutresorting to the ordinary courts of judicature. He believed, oraffected to believe, that the recent plots were promoted by the Bourbonsand the British ministers, and resolved to retaliate. By his ordersthe Duc d’Enghien was carried off, in March, 1804, from the neutralstate of Baden, and, after an informal trial, put to death. He seized theBritish minister at Hamburgh, and confined him for a short period inthe Temple. Captain Wright, a British naval officer, was also confinedin the Temple, upon pretext that his ship had been captured whilein the service of the Bourbon conspirators: he was said to have beenmurdered in prison; but there is no proof of this improbable crime.It was asserted that Pichegru perished in the same way.

In December, 1804, the First Consul assumed the titles of Napoleon,Emperor of the French and King of Italy. The Popeassisted in the ceremony of his coronation at Notre Dame: butNapoleon placed the crown on his own and his consort’s headwith his own hand. In like manner, in May, 1805, he crownedhimself King of Italy at Milan. In this year, Austria, Russia,and Sweden formed an alliance with England against France. Inthe same year, October 21, the naval power of France was destroyedby the battle of Trafalgar. But on the other hand, in a single campaign,which was concluded, December 2, by the battle of Austerlitz,Napoleon overthrew the fabric of the German empire, and obliged theother members of the coalition to separate from England and sue forpeace. He then associated Bavaria, Wirtemberg, the Grand Duchy ofBerg, and several smaller German states, under the title of the Confederationof the Rhine, of which he constituted himself Protector,72receiving in return the services of about sixty thousand soldiers.Venice was added to the kingdom of Italy; while Joseph and LouisBuonaparte were appointed respectively kings of Naples and Holland.At the conclusion of this war Napoleon created a new orderof nobility; many of whom bore foreign titles, and received extendedgrants in the territories recently conquered by France.He was now surrounded by men of the most opposite characterand principles, yet all so well chosen for aptitude to their severaloffices that he was devotedly and efficiently served. He had a keenperception of talent in others, and judgment in giving it a suitabledirection: not a few of his ablest followers, among them, Lannes,Junot, Murat, Victor, Augereau, and Soult, were of humble origin.Napoleon usurped the entire control of the civil and ecclesiasticalpolity, and by means of compulsory laws for military service, and thesuppression of public opinion by an inquisitorial police and an enslavedpress, established a complete despotism in France. In arrogatingthe style and pretensions of the Emperor Charlemagne, hedesired to bury all remembrance of the late dynasty, and of his ownorigin. He had a strong tendency to fatalism, and believed that hiscareer depended on destiny. This weakness was often manifested inthose inflated bulletins, which announced his deeds in a manner calculatedto impress the belief of his infallibility, and never acknowledgedthe occurrence of reverses.

Prussia had been induced to remain neutral during the war of whichwe have just spoken, by a promise of the cession of Hanover. Insteadof fulfilling this engagement, Napoleon, by a series of injuries, provokeda declaration of war in 1806. Prussia was subjugated by thebattle of Jena, fought October 14th: and Napoleon then marchedinto Poland against the Emperor of Russia; whom, after severalbattles, at Pultusk, Preuss-Eylau, and Friedland, he compelled tosue for peace. By the treaty of Tilsit, Prussia was dismembered, hersovereign retaining but a scanty portion of his dominions. JeromeBuonaparte received the kingdom of Westphalia, which was formedfrom the Prussian and Hanoverian territories, whilst the Prusso-Polishprovinces were formed into the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, and bestowedon Napoleon’s ally the Elector of Saxony, who was also gratified withthe title of King.

The want of a navy rendering Napoleon unable to contend withEngland, he endeavoured to separate her from the European world.In 1806, by certain decrees issued at Berlin and Milan, and acknowledgedat the Treaty of Tilsit by every continental power, England wasdeclared in a state of blockade, and all articles of English growth and73manufacture were excluded from their ports. But as the rigid enforcementof these decrees was prevented by the access of the Englishto the Peninsula, Napoleon devised a scheme for rendering this partof Europe also amenable to his authority. In 1807 a treaty wasconcluded with Spain; and, by a joint invasion of the Spanish andFrench forces, Portugal was subdued and the House of Braganzaexpelled. But under pretext of supporting this invasion, Napoleonfilled the most important military stations in Spain with his own troops.The royal family were enticed into France, and compelled by threatsof violence to renounce all claims to their hereditary throne. JosephBuonaparte, resigning the kingdom of Naples to Murat, repaired toMadrid, and was crowned king of Spain. But a fierce war breakingout between Joseph and his new subjects, the French, who had alreadybeen driven from Portugal by Sir Arthur Wellesley, seemed on thepoint of losing the whole Peninsula. Napoleon, in a campaign whichhe conducted in person, re-established his power in the Peninsula; buta declaration of war by Austria recalled him in mid-conquest. Hehurried to the German frontier, and, after beating the Austrians atAbensberg, Landshut, and Eckmuhl, and taking Vienna, concludedthe war by the battle of Wagram, fought July 6, 1809. A treatywas signed at Schoënbrun in October, by which Austria made greatsacrifices of territory and population. At Schoënbrun Napoleon narrowlyescaped death by the hand of a young German enthusiast, namedStabbs. During this war, Rome was annexed to France, as the secondcity of the empire; and the Pope, thus entirely stripped of his temporaldominions, was soon after removed to Fontainebleau, where hewas confined as a prisoner.

Desirous of an heir to succeed to his vast empire, Napoleon, on hisreturn from Schoënbrun, divorced his empress, and, in accordancewith one of the articles of the late treaty, married Maria Louisa,daughter of the Emperor of Austria, in March, 1810. This marriagewas followed, in 1811, by the birth of a son, who was styled King ofRome. Although Napoleon remained in Paris in attendance on hisnew consort, his plans of ambition suffered no interruption. In 1810he deposed his brother Louis, who thought too much of the welfareof his own subjects; and annexed Holland, together with the HanseTowns and the whole sea-coast of Germany, to the French empire.The election of the French Marshal Bernadotte to the crown of Swedenseemed to place all Europe, except England, Russia, and the Peninsula,in the power of France. On the departure of Napoleon from Spain, in1809, England again attempted to deliver the Peninsula; and, during74the two succeeding years, Wellington did much towards effecting thisobject. The Emperor of Russia, who, at the treaty of Tilsit, was supposedto have agreed with Napoleon on the division of the Europeanworld, now found the power of the latter dangerous to his own kingdom,which also suffered greatly from the prohibition of commerce withEngland. Napoleon, perceiving that his brother Emperor designed toavail himself of the reverses in the Peninsula to insist on a more liberalcourse of policy, and security against future aggression, determined onwar. In 1812 he invaded Russia, with the largest army that hadever been assembled under one European leader. After beating theRussians at Smolensko and Borodino, he took possession of Moscow,September 14. But the approach of winter, the burning of the city,and the consequent want of food and shelter, rendered it impossible toremain there; and the Czar refusing to listen to proposals for peace,Napoleon, after five weeks’ residence at Moscow, was obliged to withdraw.In the celebrated retreat which followed, the French army wasutterly destroyed, more by the climate than by the enemy; the Emperorhimself escaped with difficulty.

The spirit of the French people was roused by this disaster, andNapoleon speedily found himself at the head of another vast army.But Prussia and Sweden now joined the league against him, andexperience had made his enemies more fit to cope with him; and though,in 1813, he won the battles of Lutzen and Bautzen in Saxony, hederived no material advantage from them. Having refused to accedeto the terms proposed through the mediation of Austria, which wouldhave restricted France to her ancient power and boundaries, this statealso took part with the allies against him. After gaining the battleof Dresden, in August, Napoleon was compelled, by the successivedefeat of four of his Marshals, to abandon his position on the Elbe,and retire on Leipsic. In October was fought the great battle ofLeipsic, where, in three days, the French lost upwards of fifty thousandmen. The Emperor then retreated across the Rhine. The RhenishConfederacy was forthwith dissolved, and the Pope and Ferdinandwere permitted to return to their respective dominions.

Napoleon having thus lost all his allies and foreign possessions, stillrefused the reasonable terms of peace which were offered to him, andprepared to defend France against invasion. Wellington crossed thePyrenees in 1814, and about the same time the Russian and Germanarmies passed the Rhine. During this campaign Napoleon showedwonderful energy in encountering his numerous enemies, but stilladhered, with obstinate arrogance, to what he considered due to his75own personal glory, and refused to treat for peace. After losing thebattles of Brienne and La Rothière, in February, he entered on a negotiationwith the Allies; during the discussion of which he attacked anddefeated the Prussians on the Marne: and, on the 17th and 18th, witha perfect knowledge that his minister had signed the preliminaries ofpeace, he assaulted the Austrians and defeated them at Nangis andMontereau. These successes were useless, and only served to exasperatehis foes. In March he was beaten at the battles of Craonneand Laon, and finding the Allies getting the superiority, he skilfullymarched on their rear with the view of inclosing them between hisown army and the capital. But the Allies obtained possession ofParis, and finding the people alienated by the tyranny of the Emperor,declared they would no more treat with Napoleon Buonaparte. Theweakened state of his army, and the defection of most of his ministersand generals, left him without resources. On the 11th of AprilNapoleon renounced, for himself and his heirs, the thrones of Franceand Italy. He was allowed to retain the title of Emperor, and receivedthe sovereignty of the island of Elba.

He reached his miniature kingdom May 4; and for a time appearedto occupy himself as intently with its affairs as if they had equalled inimportance those of his late empire. But perceiving that the Bourbongovernment caused great discontent, he suddenly returned toFrance, and landed at Cannes, March 1, 1815, accompanied by aboutseven hundred soldiers. He reached Lyons on the 10th, and resumedthe functions of sovereignty. On the 17th he was joined by MarshalNey and a large body of men, and on the 19th by the army of Macdonald.The following day he entered Paris. He was immediatelydeclared an outlaw by the Allied Powers, who, with upwards of amillion of soldiers, prepared to dethrone him. Although he mademany specious promises of freedom and good government, the feelingsand interests of the people were opposed to him; and, after the decisivebattle of Waterloo, he was again obliged to abdicate. Beingfoiled in attempting to escape to America, he took refuge in a Britishship of war. The British Government rejecting his proposal to residein England, it was determined that the rest of his life should be passedin the island of St. Helena, with the observances of etiquette due to ageneral officer. He arrived at St. Helena, October 15, 1815. A fewcourtiers and domestics attended him in his exile, and by them theform and ceremony of a court were always maintained. His ambitionwas not corrected by past experience, and he was continually formingplans for returning to Europe. His escape from the island was strictly76guarded against. This exposed him to an unpleasant degree of superintendence,which he did not bear with the calmness of a great mind.Of the Governor’s conduct it is unnecessary to speak: but Napoleon’sconstant and undignified disputes with that officer concerning the regulationsfor his personal treatment, lowered his character, while theyadded to the bitterness of his captivity. In the last year of his lifeNapoleon lost all his cheerfulness and disposition for active employment.He died, May 5, 1821, of a cancerous affection of the liver, andwas borne, by a party of British grenadiers, to his grave in a secludedvalley on the island.

Napoleon Buonaparte was short in stature, but handsome and wellformed, and capable of enduring great fatigue and great vicissitudesof climate. We abstain from offering a summary of his character, aswe have abstained for the most part from passing judgment upon hisactions. The time is not yet come for him to be judged dispassionately.A multitude of books have been written concerning him, withthe more important of which most readers are familiar.

The picture from which our engraving is taken was formerly in thecollection at Malmaison, from whence it was purchased, on the restorationof the Bourbons, by Mr. Hamlet.

77

LINNÆUS.

Carl von Linné, commonly called Linnæus, was born at Rashult,in the province of Smaland, in Sweden, May 24, 1707. His father,the Protestant minister of the parish of Stenbrohult, was a collector ofcurious plants; and Carl soon became acquainted with the plants in hisfather’s garden, as well as with the indigenous species in the neighbourhood.Being intended for the church, he was placed, first at theLatin school, and then at the Gymnasium of the neighbouring town ofWexio; but he neglected his professional studies to devote himselfalmost exclusively to the physical sciences. Botany, which was thenlittle cultivated in Sweden, more particularly engrossed his attention:he formed a small library of botanical works, and although unable tocomprehend some of the authors he possessed, yet he continued to readthem day and night. He even learnt some of them by heart, andacquired, among his teachers and fellow scholars, the name of the LittleBotanist. His father, whose object was to fit his son for gaining alivelihood in his own sacred calling, and who was ill able to defraythe expenses of a learned education, was greatly mortified by this misapplicationof time. He determined therefore, without wasting, as heconsidered it, any more money, to employ Carl in some manual occupation.His design was changed by the interference of Dr. Rothman,a physician of Wexio, who advised him, instead of forcing his son intoa profession for which he had no taste, to let him follow the study ofmedicine and natural history. Rothman rendered this scheme practicable,by taking Carl into his own house for a twelvemonth; duringwhich he instructed the youth in physiology, and likewise upon theright method of studying his favourite science of botany, according tothe system of Tournefort.

78Linnæus was equally fortunate in gaining admission into the familyof Dr. Stobæus, professor of physic and botany at the University ofLund, whither he repaired in 1727. Here he pursued his botanicalstudies with zeal, and acquired the esteem and affection of his host.He went to the University of Upsal in 1728, by advice of his earlyfriend Dr. Rothman, hoping to obtain some situation in it. Buthe was disappointed: and, his scanty means being soon exhausted,he found reason to repent of having quitted the friendly roof of Stobæus,who was much offended that a pupil, whom he had treated sokindly, should have left the University without consulting him. Afortunate incident relieved him from this state of anxious suspense.One day, in the autumn of 1729, while examining some plants in theUniversity Garden, he was accosted by an aged clergyman, Dr. OlafCelsius; who, after some inquiry into the nature and extent of hisbotanical studies, received him into his own house, and employed himto assist in a work on the plants mentioned in Scripture, and to collectbotanical specimens around Upsal.

Linnæus enjoyed great advantages in his new situation. He hadthe full use of an extensive library, rich in botanical works; he livedon most familiar terms with his patron, by whom he was introduced toDr. Rudbeck, the professor of botany; and Rudbeck, obliged by ageto execute the duties of his office by deputy, obtained that office forLinnæus in 1730. The young man’s reputation as a naturalist wasnow established in the University; and, in 1731, the Royal Academyof Sciences at Upsal deputed him to make a tour through Lapland,with the sole view of examining the natural productions of that desolateregion. He set out, on horseback, May 12, 1732 (O.S.) withoutincumbrances of any kind, and bearing all his luggage at his back.In the flower of youth, bold, enterprising, and in robust health, hewas well adapted to traverse the wild countries of northern Swedenand Lapland, in which he met with some romantic and dangerousadventures. When in the districts of Pithea and Lulea, on the Gulf ofBothnia, he was near perishing from a danger of which he has giventhe following animated account:—

“Several days ago the forests had been set on fire by lightning, andthe flames raged at this time with great violence, owing to the droughtof the season. I traversed a space, three quarters of a mile in extent,which was entirely burnt, so that the place, instead of appearing in hergay and verdant attire, was in deep sable: a spectacle more abhorrentto my feelings than to see her clad in the white livery of winter. Thefire was nearly extinguished in most of the spots we visited, except in79ant-hills and dry trunks of trees. After we had travelled about half-a-quarterof a mile across one of these scenes of desolation, the windbegan to blow with rather more force, upon which a sudden noise arosein the half-burnt forest, such as I can only compare to what may beimagined among a large army attacked by an enemy: we knew notwhither to turn our steps. The smoke would not suffer us to remainwhere we stood, nor durst we turn back. It seemed best to hastenforward, in hopes of speedily reaching the outskirts of the wood; butin this we were disappointed. We ran as fast as we could, in orderto avoid being crushed by the falling trees, some of which threatenedus every minute. Sometimes the fall of a huge trunk was so suddenthat we stood aghast, not knowing whither to turn to escape destruction,and throwing ourselves entirely on the protection of Providence.In one instance a large tree fell exactly between me and my guide,who walked not more than a fathom from me; but, thanks to God!we both escaped in safety. We were not a little rejoiced when thisperilous adventure ended, for we had felt all the time like a couple ofoutlaws, in momentary fear of surprise.”

In the space of five months Linnæus performed, mostly on foot, ajourney of 3798 English miles, and with the approach of winter hereturned to Upsal. On that occasion he was admitted a member ofthe Academy, and received about ten pounds for his expenses. The‘Flora Lapponica’ was the result of this journey. Scarce recoveredfrom the fatigues of this tour through Lapland, he again felt thepressure of poverty. He commenced a course of lectures on theassaying of metals, but his success excited the jealousy of Dr. Rosen,the successor of Dr. Rudbeck, who insisted that, in conformity withthe statutes, Linnæus should no longer be allowed to lecture. TheSenate had no choice but to enforce the statutes, and this severe blowdeprived Linnæus of all present means of advancement. He quittedUpsal, and took up his residence at Fahlun, the capital of Dalecarlia,where he gave lectures on assaying to the copper miners of that district.In 1735, having saved a small sum of money, he resolved totravel, and take a medical degree at some foreign university. Hebent his course through Hamburgh to Holland, and obtained thedegree of M.D., at the little University of Harderwych. He gainedthe friendship of Gronovius and Boërhaave, by whom he was stronglyurged to settle in Holland, then in the height of its commercial prosperity.But Linnæus’ mind was set upon returning to Sweden, wherehe had formed an attachment to the eldest daughter of Dr. Moræus, aphysician at Fahlun. Intending to pass homewards through Amsterdam,80he obtained from Boërhaave an introduction to an eminentbotanist, Dr. Burman, with whom he resided for a short time. Duringthis visit he became acquainted with Mr. Clifford, a rich burgomasterof Amsterdam, who had a magnificent country-seat and garden atHartecamp, near Haarlem. This gentleman wished for the assistanceof a man who could arrange his collections of natural history, and puthis garden into order. Linnæus entered into his employment in thiscapacity, and the connexion proved equally satisfactory to both parties.

In 1736, Linnæus made a tour to England at the expense of Mr.Clifford, who wished him to inspect the gardens of our country, andto communicate with the eminent botanists then alive. The Englishprofessors were warmly attached to the system of Ray; but Dillenius,the botanical professor at Oxford, was so impressed with the talents ofLinnæus, that he urged him to take up his residence there, offering toshare the profits of his professorship with him. Professor Martyn ofCambridge, Miller, Collinson, &c., held friendly intercourse with him,and he returned to Holland with the most favourable impressions of thescientific men in England. Contrary to the wishes of Mr. Clifford, heleft Hartecamp towards the close of 1737, with the intention of returningto Sweden. No stronger proof can be given of the estimation inwhich Linnæus was held in Holland than the regard expressed for himby Boërhaave, even on his death-bed. Before the time of Linnæus’ intendeddeparture from Leyden, Boërhaave became too ill to admit visitors.Linnæus was the only person in whose favour an exception was made,that the dying physician might bid him an affectionate farewell. “Ihave lived,” he said, “my time out, and my days are at an end; Ihave done every thing that was in my power: May God protect thee!What the world required of me it has got; but from thee it expectsmuch more. Farewell, my dear Linnæus!”

When upon the point of leaving Leyden, Linnæus was attacked byillness; and upon his recovery he determined to visit Paris before hisreturn to Sweden. At Paris he experienced great kindness from theJussieus; and he received the high compliment of being elected acorresponding member of the Academy of Sciences.

In the summer of 1738, he embarked at Rouen for Helsingburg.Soon after his arrival in Sweden, he married the lady to whom hehad been so long attached.

Dr. Pulteney, in his “View of the Writings of Linnæus,” gives afull account of the numerous publications put forth by him during hisresidence in Holland, and adds,—“It is scarcely to be conceived howthis great man found time to finish so many works, any one of which81would have been sufficient for establishing his character as a botanist.”The most important of these were the “Systema Naturæ,” 1735, andthe “Genera Plantarum,” 1737, in which the sexual system of plantsis fully developed.

In 1738 Linnæus settled as a physician at Stockholm, where hemet with so much opposition, that he almost resolved to quit his nativecountry. But by perseverance he worked his way into practice; andhe was fortunate enough to be employed by the Queen of Sweden. In1739 he contributed, with some other spirited persons, to form anAcademy at Stockholm, of which he was elected President.

His professional success did not lead him aside from his favouritestudies; and he kept his eye steadily on the great object of his ambition,the botanical chair at Upsal. In 1741 he was appointed medicalprofessor. He soon entered into an agreement with ProfessorRosen to allow him to perform the duties of the botanical chair, whilehis colleague lectured on physiology and other subjects. Beforeentering on the duties of his professorship, he pronounced a Latinoration before the University, “On the Necessity of Travelling in ourown Country.”

Linnæus was now placed in the situation which of all things he hadmost coveted. The academical garden was soon laid out on a newplan. When he was appointed professor, it did not contain above fiftyexotic plants. In 1748, six years afterwards, he published a catalogue,from which it appears that he had introduced eleven hundred; besidesthe vegetable productions of Sweden itself.

He now applied to all his correspondents for plants; and, writingto Albert Haller, he says, “Formerly I had plants, but no money;and now, of what use is my money without plants?” His exertionsso much extended the fame of the University, that the number of studentsconsiderably increased, particularly during the time he held theoffice of rector. They came from Russia, Norway, Denmark, GreatBritain, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, and even from America.He made summer excursions attended by his pupils, often to thenumber of two hundred. When some rare or remarkable plant, orother natural curiosity, was found, a signal was given by a horn, atwhich the whole party assembled round their leader.

Linnæus published his “Amœnitates Academicæ,” “PhilosophiaBotanica,” and “Species Plantarum,” respectively in 1749, 1751, and1753. Of these, the first is a collection of treatises on various subjects;the second is the foundation of the Linnæan system of botany, andfrom it most of our popular introductions have been compiled; the82third is termed, by Haller, “Maximum opus, et æternum!” In thiswork he first employed trivial words as specific names: thus, the speciesof every genus is designated by a single epithet, expressive of someobvious character, and the tiresome plan of quoting an entire descriptionto distinguish the species was abandoned. His fame had nowrapidly increased, and his scientific connexions and correspondencewith foreign countries had become very extensive.

In 1753 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of London;and in the same year his sovereign, Gustavus III., bestowed upon hima most flattering mark of his regard, by creating him a Knight of thePolar Star. This order had never before been conferred on anyliterary character; nor had any person below the rank of a noblemanbeen honoured with it. Foreign countries were not backward intestifying their sense of his merits; he was a member of the RoyalAcademy of Sciences of Paris, of St. Petersburgh, and of Berlin;and there was hardly a learned body in Europe but was anxious toenrol his name among their numbers. The most flattering complimentwhich he received was from the King of Spain, who invited himto settle at Madrid, with the offer of an annual pension for life of 2000pistoles, letters of nobility, and the free exercise of his own religion.He, however, did not accept of this offer, but answered, that if he hadany merit, his services were due to his own country.

The University of Upsal had now become an object of curiosity:strangers were attracted there, and prolonged their stay, solely withthe view of becoming acquainted with Linnæus. Among othervisitors, the Earl of Macartney, when he was English Minister atSt. Petersburgh, went from that city on purpose to visit him. Hiswritings were soon appreciated in foreign countries, and his systemwas first publicly taught in our own by Professor Martyn, in the Universityof Cambridge. His pupils spread themselves over the globe;they carried everywhere with them the spirit of their master, and diffusedthe love of natural history. When Captain Cook’s first voyagewas undertaken, one of Linnæus’s most celebrated pupils, Dr. Solander,accompanied Mr. Banks in the capacity of naturalist. It was not,however, from his pupils alone that Linnæus received information;in every part of the world persons were found anxious to forward specimensto him, and his collections thus became unrivalled.

The introduction of the Linnæan system was attended with suchgreat change, especially of nomenclature, that it experienced considerableopposition from the older naturalists; and the biographersof Linnæus have recorded several literary feuds with distinguished83contemporaries, and especially with Albert Haller, a genius of equalmerit with himself.

The latter years of Linnæus were spent in a state of ease, affluence,and honour, very different from the poverty and obscurity of hisearly life. He was one of those great men, who have shown by examplehow much the genius and activity of an individual are capableof accomplishing. He was the reformer of botany, and perhaps thegreatest promoter of natural history that ever lived; and so much hasnever been done for that science, in so short a space of time, as at theperiod he flourished, and immediately after.

In 1773 the reigning King of Sweden appointed him, in conjunctionwith others, to make a new translation of the Bible into theSwedish language. In the month of May, 1774, whilst lecturing inthe Botanical Garden, he was attacked by apoplexy, the debilitatingeffects of which obliged him to relinquish the more active parts of hisprofessional duties, and to close his literary career. In 1776 a secondapoplectic fit paralysed his right side and impaired his mental powers.Even in this painful and miserable state the study of nature remainedhis greatest pleasure, and he was constantly carried into his museumto survey the treasures there accumulated. He died January 10, 1778,in the seventy-first year of his age.

On his death a general mourning took place at Upsal. A medalwas struck upon the occasion, and a monument erected to his memoryin the cathedral church of Upsal. The King of Sweden himself pronounceda panegyric on his distinguished subject before the RoyalAcademy of Sweden.

Nature was eminently liberal in the endowments of Linnæus’s mind.He had a lively imagination; a correct judgment, guided by thestrict laws of system; a most retentive memory; and unremitting industry.He laboured to inspire the great and opulent with a tastefor natural history, and he wished particularly that ecclesiastics shouldhave some knowledge of it. He thought such knowledge wouldsweeten retirement, and that pastors had great opportunities for observingnature. He was decidedly religious himself, and not one of hisgreater works begins or ends without some passage expressive ofadmiration for the Supreme Creator.

His strength and weakness alike consisted in a rigid adherence tosystem. He arranged, according to a system of his own invention, allnatural objects, from man down to the simple crystals. The Linnæanschool is more fitted to arrange and describe the materials of science84than to extend its boundaries. Its pupils have too rigidly adhered to asystem, which is ill adapted to our increased sphere of knowledge.

In botany, the merits of Linnæus were transcendent. He found ita chaos, and reduced it to a system, which enabled the student to studyit with ease. The great objection to his arrangement, founded on thesexual parts of plants, is, that it is artificial, and has rather retarded theknowledge of a system more philosophical, and in stricter accordancewith the rules of nature. The labours of the Jussieus and De Candollehave done much to introduce a better system; but much still is wantingto complete it.

After the death of Linnæus’s only son, in November, 1783, the lateeminent botanist, Sir James Smith, purchased his museum of naturalhistory, books, and manuscripts, for 1029l. This collection consistedof nearly everything possessed by the great Linnæus and his son.Sir James Smith directed in his will that these treasures should beoffered, after his own death, to the Linnæan Society of London. Theywere accordingly purchased by that body for 3000 guineas; and arenow placed in the Society’s rooms in London.

This memoir is compiled almost entirely from a Life of Linnæuswritten for the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, andfrom the article ‘Linnæus,’ in the ‘Biographie Universelle,’ by thelate Baron Cuvier.

85

PRIESTLEY.

It was the fortune of this eminent philosopher, in the course of along, uncompromising advocacy of his own views of truth, to becomeprominently engaged in controversy on those two great sources of discord,religion and politics. He was grossly maltreated by those whodisapproved of his doctrines; and, as the natural consequence, he wasregarded with warm, not to say immoderate, admiration by his friends.His opinions, however, were the result of patient inquiry, institutedand pursued, as we believe, with a sincere desire to arrive at truth;and therefore he is entitled to be treated with respect, even bythose who think his opinions of pernicious tendency. A good life ofsuch a man can hardly satisfy both friends and enemies. It is, however,as a man of science, not as a party disputant, that Priestley is entitledto a place here; and we shall therefore hold ourselves excused fromentering at length into his political or theological controversies.

Joseph Priestley was born at Fieldhead, near Leeds, March 13,1733, O.S. His father was of middle rank, engaged in the woollenmanufactures of the neighbourhood. His mother died while he wasstill a child: but this loss was alleviated by the kindness of hispaternal aunt, who undertook the care of his education from thetime that he was nine years old. He underwent some disadvantage,in being shifted about from one tutor to another; but being of astudious turn, he made considerable progress in the study of ancientand modern languages, Asiatic as well as European, ofmathematics, metaphysics, and other branches of learning; so thathe was found to be unusually well informed, on his admission at theDissenting Academy at Daventry, in 1752. His father and his auntwere Calvinistic Dissenters, and Priestley was brought up in anunusually strict observance of all the external duties of religion. He86acknowledges in his memoirs an obligation to this course of life, ashaving early given him a serious turn of mind, but without recommendinga similar course for general adoption. As was natural, heimbibed the principles of Calvinism; and suffered at one time severeuneasiness, because he could not realize in his mind those feelingswhich he had been taught to consider as the index of salvation. Thiswe mention, because it shows that his early prepossessions were diametricallyopposed to that system of religion to which he ultimatelyworked his way.

For three years Priestley continued at Daventry, labouring sedulouslyin studying to qualify himself for the ministry. At the end of thattime, he accepted an invitation to become assistant preacher to a dissentingcongregation at Needham Market, near Ipswich. His residencethere, a period of three years more, was one of considerablewant and difficulty. His stipulated salary amounted only to 40l., andwas so ill paid, that his receipts generally fell short of 30l.: insomuchthat, without occasional assistance, procured from different charitiesby his friends, he could scarcely have subsisted. This deficiency arosepartly from the poverty of the congregation, partly from his own unpopularity.His religious views, which, during his abode at Daventry,had changed to Arianism, did not accord with those of his hearers;and he laboured under an impediment of speech. Yet, notwithstandingthese unfavourable circ*mstances, he says, “I was farfrom being unhappy at Needham. I firmly believed that a wise Providencewas disposing every thing for the best, and I applied withgreat assiduity to my studies, which were classical, mathematical, andtheological. These required but few books. As to experimental philosophy,I had always cultivated an acquaintance with it, but I had notthe means of prosecuting it.” The result of his theological studieswas a still more decided rejection of the doctrines in which he hadbeen brought up In his own words, “I had become, in consequenceof much pains and thought, persuaded of the falsity of the doctrine ofatonement, of the inspiration of the authors of the books of scripture aswriters, and of all idea of supernatural influence, except for the purposeof miracles. But I was still an Arian, having never turned myattention to the Socinian doctrine, and contenting myself with seeingthe absurdity of the Trinitarian system.”

Priestley’s situation was somewhat improved by an invitation toNantwich, in Cheshire, in 1758. He remained there for three years,engaged in the double duty of preaching and keeping a school; andthen accepted an appointment as tutor of languages in the Dissenting87Academy newly established at Warrington. Not confining himselfto the strict letter of his duties, he composed and delivered lectures onthe theory of language, oratory, and criticism; on history in general,and on the history, laws, and constitution of England. It is a remarkableinstance of his versatility and activity of mind, that, in addition tothis extensive course of study, he undertook to write his History ofElectricity, a subject with which he then was little acquainted, andfinished it within a year, though in the course of the work he hadbeen led into a large field of original experiments. After a residenceof six years, the situation affording him a bare livelihood, he removedto Leeds, and took the charge of Mill Hill Chapel, in September, 1767.

At Leeds, Priestley resided for another period of six years, activelyemployed in clerical and scientific labours. Here his experiments onfixed air were undertaken, and published. He undertook a Historyof Discoveries relating to Vision, Light, and Colours, as part of a projectedhistory of all the branches of experimental philosophy; but thesale of this portion was discouraging, and he abandoned the rest of theundertaking. He also published his well-known Chart of History,and wrote an Essay on Government, with other pieces, in addition toa great number of religious pamphlets. These various pursuits, withoccasional visits to London, made him well known to literary men;and, by the friendship of Dr. Price, he was recommended to the Earlof Shelburne, as well qualified to fill the station of a literary companionand friend. In consequence, he removed to Calne in Wiltshire,close to that nobleman’s seat, Bowood. Nominally filling theoffice of librarian, and treated by Lord Shelburne with uniform respectand kindness, he had access to the best society, both at Bowoodand in London: he also had the advantage of foreign travel. But atlength a coldness grew up on the part of his patron; and at the endof seven years the connection was dissolved. By the terms of hisagreement, Dr. Priestley became entitled to an annuity of 150l., whichwas punctually paid. Each party bore testimony to the honourableconduct of the other. The cause of this estrangement never wasavowed; but it is probable that the boldness with which Priestleywrote in support of his peculiar metaphysical and religious doctrinesmay have displeased Lord Shelburne.

Induced by motives of family connection, Dr. Priestley now took uphis residence at Birmingham. Local convenience and the society ofvarious distinguished men, among whom James Watt was pre-eminent,rendered that town peculiarly suitable to his scientific pursuits,which, however, were never suffered to occupy him to the exclusion88of theology. He undertook the ministry of a chapel. He revived theTheological Repository, which had been commenced and discontinuedat Leeds. He composed and published his History of theCorruptions of Christianity. This work involved him in a well-knowncontroversy with Dr. Horsley, who is commonly said to have owed hisbishopric to his exertions in it. Priestley pursued the dispute in ahistory of early opinions concerning Jesus Christ; and for some timehe wrote an annual pamphlet in answer to the attacks on Unitarianism.His intimate friend, Dr. Price, was the most distinguished among hisopponents, and their controversy was carried on with eminent decencyand candour. It was published in 1778, entitled “A free Discussionof the Doctrines of Materialism and Necessity, in a Correspondencebetween Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley, &c.” The Socinian tenets of thelatter were again advocated in his General History of the ChristianChurch to the Fall of the Western Empire. These active labours inthe field of controversy, backed by his general reputation, causedPriestley to be regarded as the leading person among the Dissenters,a body at that time distrusted by the government, and disliked by alarge portion of their fellow-countrymen. The agitation of the repealof the Test Act increased the prejudice against them, while it gavePriestley a fresh motive for exertion. Loud was the outcry, andbitter the hatred of the “Church and King” party. One of the clergyof Birmingham attacked him from the pulpit. To him and to anotherhe replied in a series of Familiar Letters to the Inhabitants of Birmingham.At length party rage grew so high, that a meeting (atwhich Priestley was not present) being held by some persons, wholooked favourably on the commencement of the French Revolution,July 14, 1791, to celebrate the anniversary of the destruction of theBastile, the house in which they assembled was attacked by an infuriatedmob. Dr. Priestley’s meeting-house and dwelling-house werethe next objects of outrage; and the latter, with his valuable library,philosophical apparatus, papers, &c., was destroyed. The houses ofseveral other Dissenters were more or less injured. He recovered acertain compensation for his losses; but the sum awarded, accordingto his statement, fell two thousand pounds short of their real amount.The liberality of his friends, however, more than made up the pecuniarydeficiency. The French testified a warm sense of his ill-usage;and on the meeting of the National Convention, several of thedepartments invited him to become a member of it. This complimenthe wisely declined.

Birmingham was no longer a pleasant, nor even a safe abode for89the philosopher. He removed to Hackney, where the congregation ofDr. Price soon invited him to become the successor of his deceasedfriend. By degrees he replaced his philosophical instruments, andresumed his studies, hoping to finish his life without more removals.But as the French Revolution advanced, and political dissensionin England ran higher and higher, his situation grew more unpleasant,and, in his estimation, more dangerous. He found himself shunnedat the meetings of the Royal Society, and he ceased to attend them;he was harassed by threats and insults; he believed the violence of thehigh church party against him to be on the increase; he saw oppressivepolitical prosecutions instituted against others, and thoughthimself a likely person to be marked for ruin. Above all, he foundthe evil repute into which he had fallen an effectual bar to the favourableestablishment of his sons in England; and when they were goneto seek their fortunes in America, he resolved to follow them. Helanded at New York in June, 1794, and shortly after settled atNorthumberland, a town about one hundred and thirty miles N. W.of Philadelphia. There rejecting more than one advantageous offer ofsituations in the University of Philadelphia, he spent the remainder oflife, continuing to the last his philosophical and theological studies.The chief fruit of these latter years was his General History of theChristian Church, in four volumes. After a gradual decline ofstrength, he died, February 6, 1804.

The private character of Priestley was such as to command respect.Modest, benevolent, pious, of studious and retired habits and unimpeachedmorals, the worst his enemies had to say of him was, that hetaught heresy, and was an enemy of the established order of things.His works, not including those on scientific subjects, have recentlybeen edited by Mr. Rutt, in twenty-five volumes 8vo., the first of whichcontains his own memoirs, illustrated by notes by the editor, and verynumerous letters; and a catalogue of his publications in the order inwhich they appeared. The same memoirs, written by himself, in anunpretending and dispassionate style, and continued down to the author’sdeath, by his son Joseph Priestley, appeared in 1805, with an appendix,containing notices of his works and opinions. With respect tohis philosophical merits, the eloge pronounced on him by Cuvier to theInstitute, of which Priestley was an associate, in 1805, will commandattention, like every production of its distinguished author.

In the space to which we are restricted, it will be impossible to givean adequate idea of the vast importance of Dr. Priestley’s chemicaldiscoveries: they are justly regarded as forming the basis of our90knowledge of pneumatic chemistry, and indeed of the science ingeneral; for upon one of them alone, that of oxygen gas, is foundedour acquaintance with the nature of air, earth, and water, and the samediscovery has served also to explain the action of fire.

Dr. Priestley’s residence at Leeds was near a brewery; and his firstpneumatic experiments were made on the carbonic acid gas, or fixedair, largely generated during fermentation. Gradually pursuing thesubject, he examined various other aëriform bodies, and submitted toexperiment numerous substances which were convertible into, or capableof yielding, air. These investigations led him to the discovery ofnew gaseous bodies, both elementary and compound. So little cultivatedhad been the field in which he commenced his researches, that he wasunder the necessity of imagining and constructing new instruments, inorder to carry them on. To his inventive genius chemistry is indebtedfor the pneumatic trough, the method of receiving and retaining gasesover mercury, and the process of combining and decomposing themby electricity. “The very implements,” Dr. Henry remarks, in hisEstimate of the Philosophical Character of Dr. Priestley, “with whichhe was to work were, for the most part, to be invented; and of themerits of those which he did invent, it is a sufficient proof that theycontinue in use to this day, with no very important modification. Allhis contrivances for collecting, transferring, and preserving differentkinds of air, and for submitting those airs to the action of solid andliquid substances, were exceedingly simple, beautiful, and effectual.They were chiefly, too, the work of his own hands, or were constructedunder his directions by unskilled persons.” Dr. Priestley’s first publicationon pneumatic chemistry appeared in 1772; it was called “Directionsfor impregnating Water with fixed Air,” &c. &c. In thiswork he proposed the use of a condensing engine for the purpose ofcausing the water to dissolve a larger quantity of the gas, and thus toprepare artificial mineral waters: this plan, it is well known, is nowpractised to a great extent. In the Philosophical Transactions for1772, he announced the discovery that air, which had been vitiated byrespiration or the burning of candles, was restored by the vegetation ofplants; that air exposed to a mixture of sulphur and iron filings, ashad previously been done by Hales, was diminished by about one-fourthor one-fifth in bulk, and that the residual air was lighter thanatmospheric air, and noxious to animals. This diminished air heafterwards called phlogisticated air; it is now named azotic, ornitrogen gas. The discovery of this fluid is generally attributed toDr. Rutherford, who, in his treatise “De Aëre Mephitico,” also published91in 1772, mentioned a few of its properties without giving it anyname. As Dr. Priestley’s papers were read before the Royal Societyso early as in March, it is not improbable that he was the first discovererof the gas in question. In 1774 appeared the first of threevolumes, entitled “Experiments and Observations on different kinds ofAir;” and these were followed by three more, entitled “Experimentsand Observations relating to various Branches of Natural Philosophy,with a continuation of the Observations on Air:” the last ofthese was published in 1786. This work contains a series of experiments,unrivalled for their number, novelty, and importance.

Dr. Priestley’s greatest discovery, that of oxygen gas, which hecalled dephlogisticated air, was made on the 1st of August, 1774, andannounced in the Philosophical Transactions for 1775. This gas hefirst procured from red oxide of mercury, and afterwards from redoxide of lead, and several other substances.

In 1776 Dr. Priestley’s Observations on Respiration were read beforethe Royal Society. In these he showed that atmospheric air, duringinspiration, was diminished in quantity, and deteriorated in quality, bythe action of the blood upon it through the blood-vessels of the lungs.He also proved that gases have the power of acting through bladders,and one of his latest papers was on this curious subject: it appearedin the fifth volume of the American Philosophical Transactions, andseems to have been completely overlooked by later experimenters onthe same subject. Another of his early and important observationsrelated to the permanent mixture of gases of different densities, incases in which they do not combine; and he cited this circ*mstance toaccount for the perfect mixture of the two gases which form the atmosphere,and which are well known to be of different densities.

In addition to oxygen gas, already mentioned, Dr. Priestley alsodiscovered muriatic acid gas, sulphurous acid gas, fluoric acid gas,nitrous oxide gas, ammoniacal gas, and carbonic oxide gas; but heentirely mistook the nature of the last-mentioned body. He also showedthat muriatic acid gas and ammoniacal gas, when mixed, condense intosolid sal ammoniac. He must also have obtained chlorine gas,but it escaped his notice, because, being received over mercury, itquickly combined with it. Hydrogen gas and carbonic acid gas wereknown before his time; but his experiments upon them greatly extendedour acquaintance with their properties. Nitrous gas, barelydiscovered by Dr. Hales, was first investigated by Priestley, and appliedby him to eudiometry, a most important branch of chemicalscience originating with himself.

92In 1778, he pursued his experiments on the property of vegetablesgrowing in the light, to renovate impure air, and on the use of vegetationin this part of the economy of nature. Chemistry is also indebtedto him for the method of decomposing metallic oxides by means ofhydrogen gas, and for noticing that this gas has the property of dissolvingiron. He observed also that lime is less soluble in hot thancold water; and that when a solution of lime in cold water is heated,part of the lime is deposited.

In the first volume of his work on air (p. 278), Dr. Priestley hasanticipated the idea of Dr. Arnott and Sir J. F. W. Herschel, that electricity,acting on the brain and nerves, may excite muscular action.

Dr. Henry, in the memoir already quoted, has remarked, that factsare to be met with in various parts of Dr. Priestley’s works that mighthave given him a hint of the law, since unfolded by the sagacity of M.Gay-Lussac, “that gaseous substances combine in definite volumes.”From the same memoir we extract the following observations, in conclusionof this short account of Dr. Priestley’s scientific labours:—“Hegreatly enlarged our knowledge of the important class of metals,and traced out many of their most interesting relations to oxygen andto acids. He unfolded, and illustrated by simple and beautiful experiments,distinct views of combustion; of the respiration of animals,both of the inferior and higher classes; of the changes produced inorganized bodies by putrefaction, and of the causes that accelerate orretard that process; of the importance of azote as the characteristicingredient of animal substances, observable by the action of dilute nitricacid on muscle and tendon; of the functions and economy of livingvegetables; and of the relations and subserviency which exist betweenthe animal and vegetable kingdoms.”

93

ARIOSTO.

Ludovico Ariosto was born at Reggio, near Modena, in September,1474. From boyhood he showed a turn for versifying, and a distastefor the severer study of the law, to which he was destined. Thisrepugnance triumphed over the wishes of his father, an Officer in theDuke of Ferrara’s service, and obtained license for him to pursue hisown inclinations. His father died about the year 1500, leaving asmall inheritance, and ten children, of whom Ludovico was the eldest.Thus, the care of the family, and the education and establishment ofits younger branches, devolved upon him; and this onerous and importantduty he faithfully performed, while to his mother, who survivedhis other parent many years, he ever manifested a filial affection.

In the midst of his domestic cares he still found time to cultivateliterature, and he composed several lyric pieces; among others, a Latinepithalamium on the marriage of Alfonso d’Este, son of the reigningDuke of Ferrara, with the infamous Lucrezia Borgia, daughterof Pope Alexander VI. Ariosto was then but a young man, and probablylittle acquainted with the political and domestic history of theBorgias; the praises therefore which he bestows on Lucrezia, notmerely for her beauty, but for her moral qualities, ought not to betoo severely criticised; the same excuse, however, cannot be madefor a repetition of the same eulogium in his subsequent great poem,when he must certainly have become acquainted with the contemporarychronicles. But all poets were in that age tainted with courtflattery, and Ariosto’s object was to gain the favour of his sovereignsand patrons, the princes of Este. Princely patronage was then absolutelynecessary to a literary man who was not himself rich, as therewas no reading public upon which to depend. Italy was divided94into principalities, and distracted by foreign war and intestine dissensions,and the notice of the courts could alone bestow fame upon anauthor, and save him from neglect and distress.

These compositions attracted the favourable notice of CardinalIppolito d’Este, Alfonso’s younger brother, a man of information andabilities. Upon personal acquaintance, he was pleased with Ariosto’smanners, and received him as one of the gentlemen of his retinueabout the year 1503. Ippolito was a busy politician, and deeply concernedin all the intrigues of that most busy period of Italian politics.He soon perceived that Ariosto’s talents might be turned to account,and employed him in various missions, to Florence, Urbino, and otherItalian courts; in the course of which the poet became acquaintedwith many persons of rank and consequence, and especially with CardinalGiovanni de’ Medici, afterwards Leo X., who took a particularliking to him, and admitted him to his familiar society.

Ariosto was recommended by his first patron, Cardinal Ippolito, toAlfonso d’Este, who succeeded to the ducal crown of Ferrara in 1505;and from that time he enjoyed the confidence of both the brothers.

In 1509, Alfonso joined in the league of Cambray with the Pope,the French, and the Emperor Maximilian, against the Venetians; andIppolito, who was a soldier as well as a statesman, took the commandof his brother’s troops. Ariosto accompanied his master to the field,and was present at the campaign of that year on the banks of the Po.He has described, in the thirty-sixth canto of his Furioso, the atrocitiesperpetrated by the Sclavonian mercenaries in the Venetianservice.

It is not our province to follow the operations of this war, fartherthan to state, that Ariosto was present in several battles, and employedin two political missions to Pope Julius II. The second time,he was compelled to make a hasty retreat from Rome, as Julius hadpublicly threatened to have him thrown into the Tiber. In 1513,Leo X. succeeded to the Papal throne. Ariosto soon after repairedto Rome to congratulate the new Pope. Leo received him as an oldand intimate acquaintance. “He stooped graciously from his holychair towards me, took me by the hand, and saluted me on both thecheeks. From that moment my credulous hopes were raised to theunknown regions of heaven.” In short, Ariosto now thought hisfortune was made. But he had not sufficient patience; he soon grewtired of waiting at Rome without receiving any more substantialproofs of Leo’s benevolence, and, too independent to be importunateat levees and audiences, he turned his back upon all his prospects95from that quarter. Having returned to Ferrara, he applied himselfwith renewed earnestness to his favourite studies. He had long sinceformed the plan of a great poem on the subject of the wars of Charlemagneagainst the Saracens, a traditional theme derived from thefabulous chronicle of Turpin, in which some truth was intermixedwith a mass of exaggerations, anachronisms, and wondrous talesof paladins, knights-errant, and giants, the offspring of older traditionsof Welch or Armorican invention. (See Warton’s “Historyof English Poetry,” Ellis’s “Specimens of early English MetricalRomances,” etc.) Many French, Spanish, and Italian ballad andromance writers had treated this fanciful theme, each adding somethingto the common stock of the marvellous from his own imagination.In Italy, three poets of considerable genius, Pulci, Boiardo, and Bello,had composed long poems on the subject, in which the celebratedOrlando or Roland, figured as the great champion of Christendom.Boiardo, departing from his predecessors, gave a new interest to his poemby making Orlando fall in love with Angelica, a Pagan or Saracen (thetwo are often taken as synonymous in all these romances) princess, ofsupernatural beauty, and possessed of magical powers, who had comefrom the farthest Asia to Charlemagne’s camp for the express purposeof exciting the jealousy of the Christian leaders, and thus, by spreadingdissension among them, rendering them unable to cope successfullywith the infidels. Boiardo did not complete his poem, which hecalled “Orlando Innamorato;” and he left off the story of Angelica,where Charlemagne, weary of the discord which raged in his campsince Angelica’s appearance, gives her in charge to Namo, one of hissquires, until such time as he shall have decided upon the rivalclaims of Rinaldo and Orlando, his two bravest paladins, to her hand.It is from this point that Ariosto took up the thread of his story, andin consonance with the proverb that from love to madness there is butone step, he determined to make Orlando run mad with jealousy,on discovering that Angelica had eloped with a young and handsome,but obscure squire, of the name of Medoro, for whom sheforgets all the objects of her journey to the west, and despises thesighs of Orlando and the other renowned paladins of Charlemagne’scourt. Ariosto styled his poem “Orlando Furioso,” and he wrote itat first in forty cantos, which he afterwards increased to forty-six.Orlando’s madness runs through the greater part of the poem, until heis restored to reason by his cousin Astolpho, who brings back his witsin a phial from the moon. Meantime the principal action of the poem,namely, the war between Charlemagne and the Saracens, continues96throughout, and ends with the final expulsion of the Moors from France,and the death of their great champion Rodomonte, whose death, likethat of Turnus in the Æneid, closes the poem. But it would be idleto look for the unity and the consecutiveness of epic action, as somecritics have done, in a poem which is not an epic. There are manyactions in the Furioso, all skilfully interwoven together, and makingin the end an harmonious whole; but during their progress, the readerfinds himself often lost as in a labyrinth, and perplexed how to recoverthe thread of his recollections. And yet the beauties of description,the fine touches of character and feeling, are so many, that we wanderon delighted, as pilgrims who have strayed into an enchanted world,and then gaze, and wonder, and idle along, thoughtless of the endor purport of their journey.

Ariosto was employed for ten years about his poem, from his firstbeginning to the completion of it in forty cantos. It was printed athis own expense, at Ferrara, in April, 1516, by Mazocco del Bondeno,in one volume quarto. He sold one hundred copies of this firstedition to the bookseller, Gigli, for twenty-eight scudi, being at therate of about fifteen pence a copy, on condition that the booksellershould not sell the copies for more than twenty pence each. Thisedition is now extremely rare.

Ariosto hastened to present a copy to Cardinal Ippolito, to whomthere is an affectionate dedication in the third stanza of the first canto,besides several other passages throughout the work which are highlylaudatory of him, of his brother Alfonso, and of the house of Este ingeneral. The Cardinal, after perusing the poem, seems to have beenpuzzled about the meaning and purpose of it, and he is said to haveasked the author “Where in the devil’s name he had picked up somany absurdities?” But whether this story be true or not, it iscertain that Ippolito did not relish the work, and that Ariosto gainedby it no additional favour with him. Cardinal Ippolito was a busyworldly man; his mind was anything but poetical, his tastes andpursuits were matter of fact; his abilities—and he had abilities—werein a different line, and he told Ariosto that “he would have beenbetter pleased, if, instead of praising him in idle verse, he had exertedhimself more earnestly in his service.” This remark we have fromAriosto himself, in his second satire. Much declamation has beenwasted on the Cardinal for his want of taste, and for what has beencalled his ungenerous conduct towards the great poet. But a wantof taste for poetry is no ground for moral censure; and if the Cardinalthought no better of Ariosto for exerting a talent which he could97not appreciate, at least it does not appear that he esteemed him theless. He retained him in his service as before, until the end of 1517,when being on the point of setting off for his diocese of Gran inHungary, of which he was Archbishop, he requested Ariosto to followhim; but Ariosto excused himself on the plea of his delicate healthand the rudeness of the Hungarian climate. His brother Alessandro,however, accompanied the Cardinal. Ippolito was certainly displeasedat Ariosto’s refusal, but he did not stop his pension in consequenceof it. It was not until a year or two after that the smallpension of twenty-five scudi every four months, of which Ariostospeaks, was stopped, during the Cardinal’s absence; and it is statedby Barotti, in his life of Ariosto, that this took place in consequenceof the Duke’s abolishing a local tax, on the produce of which Ariosto’spension was assigned. Besides this pension, Ariosto enjoyed one-thirdof the fees paid to the Notarial Chancery for every deed registered,which brought him about one hundred scudi per annum.This he did not lose after the Cardinal’s departure. He seems tohave enjoyed some other perquisites, which were, of course, the fruitsof his connection with the princes of Este. He was not rich, but, atthe same time, he was not in distress. Although he sometimes indulgesin outbreakings of poetical querulousness in his satires, whichare the best authority for his biography, yet, in the very midst ofthese, we find expressions of sincere regard and grateful affectionfor both the Cardinal and the Duke, for Ariosto was a right-heartedman.

After the Cardinal’s death, which happened in 1520, Ariosto wastaken by Duke Alfonso into his own service, as one of his gentlemenattendants. The duties of this office, we are told by the poet himself,were merely nominal, and left him ample leisure to pursue his favouritestudies. Yet the Duke was very fond of his company, and willinglygranted those favours which he requested for himself or his friends.(See Ariosto’s Seventh Satire.) From the general character of Ariosto,however, we may conclude that he was not an indiscreet or importunatepetitioner. In 1521, he published a second edition of hisgreat poem, with many corrections, but still in forty cantos only: thisedition is as scarce as the first. As he expressed a wish to be moreactively employed, Alfonso, in 1522, appointed him Governor of theprovince of Garfa*gnana, bordering on the Modenese territory, andsituated on the western slope of the Apennines, on the side of Lucca.This country had just been restored to the house of Este, after havingbeen for years occupied by the Florentines and the Pope. The people98were divided into factions, which openly defied the law. Ariostohumorously describes in his fifth satire the difficulties of his newoffice. He remained about three years at Castelnuovo, the chief townof this mountain district, and seems to have succeeded by his firm, yetliberal and conciliatory conduct, in restoring order among that turbulentand rude population, who showed him marked proofs of esteemon several occasions. In 1523, the Duke’s secretary, Pistofilo, wroteto offer him the appointment of ambassador to the new Pope, ClementVII.; but Ariosto declined the honour, saying, that he had already hadenough of Rome and the Medici, alluding to his disappointment whichhe had experienced from Leo X. In 1524, he returned from his governmentto Ferrara, which he does not seem to have ever quittedafterwards. He had there long before formed an attachment to a lady,whose name he has carefully concealed; and this appears, from his ownhints, to have been an additional reason, on several occasions abovementioned, for his not wishing to remove far from Ferrara. By thislady he had a son, Virginio, whom he legitimated by a regular actdone before Cardinal Campeggio, in April, 1530. Virginio was thentwenty-one years of age. The deed still exists in the archives of thehouse of Ariosti. In it the Christian name alone of Virginio’smother, Orsolina, is mentioned, and she is qualified as a spinster; buther family name and rank are left out, honestatis causâ, as it is therestated. This Virginio took orders, and became afterwards a canonof the Cathedral of Ferrara. Ariosto had another natural son, Giovanbattista,who rose to the rank of captain in the Duke’s service.

After his return from Garfa*gnana, Ariosto recast some comedieswhich he had composed in youth, and wrote others, making in all fivecomedies in blank verse, which pleased the Duke so much upon perusalthat he resolved on having them performed, and for this purposehad a theatre constructed in a wing of the ducal palace. No pains orexpense were spared to add to the splendour of the representation,which the Duke and his court attended. These plays are modelledupon Plautus and Terence; the unities are preserved, and the plotis made to turn upon the shifts and stratagems of dissipated andneedy young men, aided by base domestics or panders, to deceive theirparents, or the parents or guardians of their mistresses. And, like thecontemporary comedies of Bibbiena and Machiavelli (co-founders withAriosto of Italian comedy,) they are stained by frequent indecency ofallusion and language.

In the division of his father’s scanty property, Ludovico had for hisshare the house at Ferrara, which stands, or stood till lately, in the99street of Santa Maria di Bocche, and on the door of which was seenthe marble escutcheon of the Ariosti. He purchased, in 1526, a smallhouse of a person of the name of Pistoja, near the street Mirasole.He afterwards bought several adjoining lots of ground, and builthimself a commodious house, which he surrounded by a garden andtrees. This is still seen in the street Mirasole, with an inscription tocommemorate its former inmate. There he spent, in studious andpleasant retirement, the latter years of his life, continuing to enjoythe favour of Duke Alfonso, and of his son Prince Ercole d’Este,afterwards Duke Hercules II., to whom he gave instruction inliterature.

In October, 1532, Ariosto, after sixteen years passed, since its firstpublication, in the continual and almost daily revision of his great poem,published a third edition in forty-six cantos, which, notwithstandingsome misprints, has remained the legitimate text of the OrlandoFurioso. This was the last edition which he published himself. Thesix additional cantos are the 33d, 37th, 39th, 42d, 44th, and 45th; andin the others, stanzas are added or altered from time to time. Soonafter Ariosto had thus completed his work, he fell ill of a painfulinternal complaint, which, after several months of lingering sufferings,terminated in death, June 6, 1533. He was then in his fifty-ninthyear. He was buried privately in the church of San Benedetto, nearhis house, and his funeral was attended by the monks, who volunteeredto pay this honour to his remains. Forty years later, the churchhaving been rebuilt, a monument was raised to him on the right of thegreat altar by Agostino Mosti of Ferrara, who in his youth had studiedunder Ariosto, to which the poet’s bones were transferred with greatceremony. In 1612, Ludovico Ariosto, the poet’s grand-nephew,raised another monument, more splendid than the first, and placed itin the chapel to the left of the great altar; and thither Ariosto’sremains underwent removal for the second time. They were then leftin peace for nearly two centuries, until the French took possession ofthe country at the beginning of the present century, when they removedthe monument (we believe the last of the two, though we cannot positivelysay) to the Lyceum or University; where Ariosto’s chair and hisink-stand are also preserved, as well as the autographs of the Furioso.In the convent of San Benedetto is a painting, representing paradise, byGarofalo, who had known Ariosto personally, in which the poet is seenbetween St. Catherine and St. Sebastian.

Virginio Ariosto left several curious memoranda of his father’shabits, which are given by Barotti. He was tall, of a robust and100naturally healthy frame, and a good pedestrian. One summer’smorning he strayed out of Carpi, near Reggio, where he then resided,in his morning gown and slippers, to take a walk. Being absent inthought, he had gone more than half way to Ferrara before he recollectedhimself; and then continued his route, and arrived at Ferrara inthe evening, having walked a distance of at least forty miles. He wasgenerally frugal, and not choice in his meals, though at times he atemuch and hurriedly, because, his son says, he was not then thinking ofwhat he was doing, being busy in his mind about his verses or abouthis plans for building. One day a visiter appeared just after he haddined. While they were conversing, the servant brought up dinnerfor the stranger; and, as the latter was engaged in talking, Ariostofell on the viands laid on the table, and ate all himself, the guest ofcourse not presuming to interrupt him. After the visiter was gone,Ariosto’s brother remonstrated with him on his inhospitable behaviour,when the poet, coming to himself, exclaimed, “Well, it is his fault, afterall; why did he not begin to eat his dinner at once?”

The Italians have bestowed on Ariosto the epithet of “the Divine,”and they also call him “the Homer of Ferrara.”

The character of Ariosto may be easily gathered from this briefsketch of his life. He was trustworthy, loyal, and sincere, free fromenvy or jealousy, and a warm friend; he was fond of meditation andretirement, often absent and absorbed in thought, and yet he could bevery pleasant and jovial in company. He was not a great reader,and he selected the Latin classics in preference to other authors.He studied men and nature more than books. Of Greek he acquiredsome knowledge late in life. He was very fond of architecture,and regretted that his means did not permit him to satisfyhis passion for building. He also took pleasure in gardening, but hewas too absent and impatient to prosper in that occupation. Hischaracter, by his own confession, was stained by licentious amours:and his works are tainted by impure passages, which render themunfit for indiscriminate perusal. Still this is the fault of detachedpassages, not of the general spirit or object of his compositions; andif judged in comparison with his contemporaries, he will not be severelycensured as an immoral writer.

Ariosto’s great poem, the Orlando Furioso, is too generally knownto require a long discussion of its merits. It is by universal consentthe first of all poems of chivalry and romance. It is a wonderful creationof man’s imaginative powers, extending far beyond the limits ofthe natural world. But the poet in his wildest flights takes care not101to fall into too palpable extravagance or absurdity. He has the art of endowingthe creatures of his fancy with features and attributes apparentlyso appropriate to their supposed nature, as to remove from his readersthe feeling of the improbability of their existence. There are alsoother merits in the poem besides those of imagination and description.There is often a vein of moral allusion half concealed within Ariosto’sfanciful strains, the evidence of a mind deeply acquainted with themysteries of the human heart, fully alive to the beauty of virtue, andimbued with sound notions of moral philosophy. At other times hetries to cast off his pensive mood and to appear careless and satirical,and he succeeds in exciting laughter at men’s follies and even vices;a laughter which we doubt whether the writer felt in his own heart.In his satire, however, although rather broad and licentious, he was notbitter or misanthropical. His is the humour of a good-tempered pococurante, who has no intention to break with mankind on account of itsfaults, and who wishes to make the best of the present world, such asit is. His touches of the pathetic, though not many, are exquisite of theirkind: we will only mention, as instances, the story of Ginevra, that ofZerbino and Isabella, and the death of Brandimarte. His acquaintancewith history, geography, and other sciences, was respectable, consideringthe time he lived in. His language is generally natural andflowing, and the justness and clearness of his expressions render theperusal of his poem of great use even to prose writers. Galileo usedto say that he had formed his style chiefly by assiduous study of theFurioso. Ariosto has been accused of using trivial expressions, borrowedfrom popular use rather than from books. Many of these,however, have been since adopted by the best Italian writers. Severalof his lines certainly are harsh and inharmonious, but it is not improbablethat this was intentional, for the sake of expression, or togive variety to the sound of his verse, as it is well known that Ariostowas not a negligent writer; he corrected and recorrected his poemwith the greatest care, and his apparent facility is the result of muchstudy and labour. It is said that he altered not less than twentytimes the 142d stanza of the eighteenth canto, in which he describesthe beginning of a storm at sea, before he fixed on the text as it howstands.

After the three editions of the Furioso superintended by Ariostohimself, numerous editions appeared in various parts of Italy duringthe sixteenth century, all however more or less incorrect, andsome of them—for instance, the one of 1556, by Ruscelli—deliberatelymutilated or interpolated, either by editorial presumption, or102through scruples of morality. The Aldine edition of 1545 isone of the best of that age; it is also the first that contains fiveadditional cantos, which are the beginning of a new chivalric poem,left in MS. by the author, and given by his son Virginio to AntonioManuzio. The edition of 1584, by Franceschi of Venice, is richin comments and illustrations, but the text is often incorrect. Theeditions of the seventeenth century are all likewise imperfect. Theedition of Orlandini, 2 vols. folio, Venice, 1731, contains all theworks of Ariosto, with three biographies by Pigna, Fornari, andGarofalo, and several comments and illustrations. The learned Barottiof Ferrara brought out an edition of all Ariosto’s works,Venice, 6 vols. 12mo., 1766, in which he restored in many placesthe original reading, and added a life of Ariosto, which is stillconsidered the best extant. The Birmingham edition of the Furioso,4 vols. 4to., with plates, some of which are by Bartolozzi, is remarkablyhandsome, and one of the most correct. But the best text of theFurioso is that of the edition of Pirotta, Milan, 1818, in 4to., inwhich the editor, Morali, has succeeded in faithfully restoring the originaltext of Ariosto’s last edition of 1532, which has been sinceadopted by Molini in his edition, Florence, 2 vols. 12mo., 1823, bythe Padua edition of 1827 in 4to., and by other later Italian editors.Ciardetti has published all the works of Ariosto, Florence, 8 vols. large8vo., 1823–4.

The Orlando Furioso has been translated into most European languages.Of the English translations, Harrington’s is spirited, but farfrom faithful; it is in reality rather an imitation than a translation.That by T. H. Croker, 1755, has the merit of being faithful and literal,stanza for stanza. The recent translation by Mr. S. Rose is consideredthe best.

The Satires of Ariosto are seven in number; they are addressedto his brothers and other friends. As the author did not intend themfor publication in his lifetime, he expressed himself freely in them,and related many curious particulars of his history. They werefirst published in 1534, and have been often reprinted, both separatelyand with the rest of his works. They have been twicetranslated into English, by Robert Toft in 1608, and by Crokerin 1759. Ariosto is one of the best Italian satirists. He hasfollowed the Horatian model; he corrects without too much bitternessor scurrility. He reprobates the vices of his age and country, and theywere many and great. He speaks of popes, princes, and cardinals, ofthe learned and the unlearned, of clergymen and laymen, of nobles and103plebeians, with great freedom, but without violence or exaggeration,and in language generally, though not always, decorous. Ariosto’ssatires deserve to be more generally read than they are, both as amirror of the times, and as a model of that species of composition which,from the pens of ill-tempered or vulgar men, has too often assumed atone of malignancy and licentiousness equally remote from justice andtruth.

Besides the Orlando Furioso, his comedies, and his satires, Ariostoleft some minor works, in Italian and in Latin verse, such as epigrams,canzoni, sonnets, capitoli in terza rima, and other lyrics; and acurious Latin eclogue, which long remained inedited, composed in1506, on the occasion of a conspiracy against the life of Duke Alfonsoby his two brothers, Ferrante and Giulio. He also wrote a dialoguein Italian prose, called “l’Erboleto,” on medicine and philosophy.We have no other works of his in prose, except one or two letters;his correspondence, which probably was extensive, has never beencollected.

The number of commentators, critics, and biographers of Ariosto isvery great: a complete collection of them would form a considerablelibrary. Some of the best have been mentioned in this sketch. Wemust add Baruffaldi, junior, who wrote a life of Ariosto, Ferrara,1807, and Count Mazzuchelli, who has given a good biography ofhim in his “Scrittori d’Italia.”

104

MARLBOROUGH.

John Churchill, first Duke of Marlborough, was born at Ashe inDevonshire, the seat of his maternal grandfather, Sir John Drake,June 24, 1650. His father, Sir Winston Churchill, was a man ofsome literary repute, a zealous royalist, and in good esteem at the courtof Charles II., to which John Churchill was introduced at the earlyage of twelve. He soon became one of the Duke of York’s pages;gained that prince’s favour, and was presented with a commission inthe guards. In 1672, he held the rank of Captain in the Englishtroops which served as auxiliaries to France under the Duke of Monmouth;and he was so fortunate as to gain the good opinion of Turenne,and to be honoured with the public thanks of Louis XIV. forhis gallant conduct at the siege of Maestricht. On his return toEngland, he was again attached to the Duke of York’s household.He married Miss Sarah Jennings in 1681; and was created a peer ofScotland in 1682, and a peer of England soon after the Duke’s accessionto the throne, by the title of Baron Churchill of Sandridge inHertfordshire. In this early part of his life he prudently abstainedfrom active interference in politics. Gratitude and present interestcombined to render him averse to thwart the wishes or policy of hismaster: political foresight and attachment to the established churchwarned him not to co-operate in the King’s imprudent measures. Hedoes not appear to have been embarrassed by an over-generous and enthusiastictemper; and therefore, whether or no he was of those whoinvited William of Orange to England, he had the less difficulty, on thelanding of that prince, in making up his mind to the painful task ofabandoning a kind master and a falling cause. But, in doing so, hewas guilty of no treachery. Entrusted with the command of 6000men, he carried over no troops, and betrayed no post; but quietly withdrewwith a few fellow-officers from King James’s camp.

105Soon after the Revolution, Lord Churchill was sworn into thePrivy Council, and created Earl of Marlborough. He commanded theBritish contingent in the Netherlands in 1689, and had a large sharein gaining the battle fought at Walcourt, August 25. In the twofollowing years he served in Ireland and on the Continent, with thehigh approbation of King William. But his prosperity was suddenlychecked by an abrupt dismissal from all his offices. This was soonfollowed by his committal to the Tower for high treason; but thefalsity of this charge, the profligate contrivance of an obscure criminal,was soon shown. The cause of his dismissal from office is not clearlyascertained: it has been assigned to his advocacy of the interests ofthe Princess Anne; to his remonstrances against the undue favourshown by William towards his Dutch followers; to the detection of aclandestine correspondence with James II. It is at least certain thatsuch a correspondence existed, and that it is a deep stain upon thehonesty of Marlborough’s character; whether we suppose him to havebeen earnest in the wish to bring back the Stuarts, or merely to havesought an opportunity for grace, if the political changes of that eventfulperiod had restored the exiled family to the throne.

Marlborough continued in disgrace until after the death of QueenMary, which produced a reconciliation between the King and thePrincess. In 1698, he was recalled to the Privy Council, and appointedGovernor to the presumptive heir to the crown, the youngDuke of Gloucester. From that time to the King’s death, he continued,ostensibly at least, in favour, though not employed in any militarycapacity; and one of the King’s last acts was to recommend himto Anne, as the fittest person to command her armies. This was notnecessary to secure her favour. The Countess of Marlborough hadlong been endeared to her by the ties of a much closer and morefamiliar friendship than usually exists between a sovereign and a subject;and the Earl had stood in opposition to the court in support ofher interests, and had been disgraced, as many believed, on thataccount. Accordingly, one of the Queen’s first acts was to confer onhim the order of the Garter, and to nominate him Captain-general ofthe forces, at home and abroad. He was mainly instrumental ininducing the new government to confirm the alliances made by the lateKing for prosecuting the war of the Spanish succession; was sentambassador to Holland, and finally invested with the command ofthe allied army. We can only give a summary of the operations ofeach campaign in that war, in which Europe was delivered fromthe fear of France. The first, in 1702, was eminently successful,106though the general was much hampered by the interference of theDutch deputies who attended the army. The strong fortresses whichline the Meuse, from Venloo to Liege, were wrested from France.The Queen expressed her gratitude for this auspicious beginningby conferring on Marlborough a dukedom, and a pension of5000l.: the two houses of Parliament voted their thanks. The followingyear was distinguished by no decisive events, chiefly owingto the difficulty of getting the Dutch to act with cordiality or concert:the conquests of the preceding campaign, however, were confirmedand extended. The memorable campaign of 1704 was remarkable forthe boldness, political as well as military, of its conception, and thesecrecy of its execution. The successes of the French in Germanyhaving reduced the Emperor almost to despair, it became Marlborough’sfirst object to prevent the total ruin of that monarch, andthe consequent dissolution of the confederacy. To this end, withoutcommunicating his real views either to the States or to the Englishministry, he obtained their sanction for opening the next year’s operationson the Moselle; and passing that river, led his troops on to theDanube, and effected a junction with the imperial generals, the Margraveof Baden and Prince Eugene, almost before his real design wasknown at home, or even to the enemy. The first fruit of this was thebattle of Schellenberg, near Donawerth, on the Danube, where the Electorof Bavaria’s lines were forced, and his army beaten. The French,under Marshal Tallard, advanced to the support of their ally; and, withthe Bavarians, took up a strong position near Hochstet, their right flankresting on the village of Blenheim, and being covered by the Danube.The British and allied troops, commanded by Marlborough andEugene, amounted to about 52,000 men; the enemy were rather morenumerous, and very strongly posted. To engage was dangerous; butthe circ*mstances of the campaign rendered it necessary; and, againstthe advice of several officers and the expectation of the French, theattack was made on the morning of August 7. After a bloody battle,the French position was carried, and their army utterly disorganizedor destroyed. By this victory the whole Electorate of Bavaria fellinto the hands of the Imperialists; and the French were driven torepass the Rhine. The allies followed them, and besieged and tookthe strong fortress of Landau, while the Duke, by hasty marches, leda detachment to the Moselle, and secured the city of Treves and thefortified town of Traerbach. To this expedition he attached great importance.“I reckon,” he said, “the campaign well over, since thewinter quarters are settled on the Moselle, which I think will give107France as much uneasiness as anything that has been done this summer.”In this single campaign, the Emperor was relieved from thefear of being besieged in his capital; Germany freed from the pressureof war; and the troops established in those quarters whichafforded the best prospect of opening the next campaign to advantage.And, above all, the charm of a long series of victories, the fanciedinvincibility of the French, was effectually destroyed.

Every mark of gratitude which a nation can pay was bestowed onthe Duke of Marlborough. To perpetuate the memory of his services,the royal manor of Woodstock was granted to him and to his heirs;and, in addition to this, in testimony of her own affection and respect,the Queen gave orders for erecting, at her own expense, the splendidpile of Blenheim.

The advantages which Marlborough hoped to derive from his positionon the Moselle were entirely lost, through the inactivity of theGerman confederates. As if aware that this would be the case, theFrench concentrated their exertions to recover their losses in the Netherlands;and they succeeded so far, that the Dutch sent pressingmessages to Marlborough to return to their help. He did so, andsoon restored the superiority of the allies in that quarter. But hissuccess was attended with mortification, for the German general leftto act on the defensive on the Moselle abandoned his trust, and retired,having burnt the magazines collected on that river; and thus effectuallyfrustrated that scheme of invasion from the Moselle, to whichMarlborough had attached so much importance. To guard againstinvasion from the Netherlands, the French had drawn strong linesacross the country, from the Scheldt to the Meuse, from Antwerp toNamur, behind which Marshal Villeroi took post on Marlborough’sjunction with the Dutch army. These lines, which had been threeyears in forming, at a vast expense, were attacked and penetratedalmost without resistance or loss. This success, if properly followedup, would have thrown all Brabant into Marlborough’s hands; hewas continually embarrassed by the jealousy or supineness of theDutch generals. Once, at the passage of the Dyle, and again nearlyon the field of Waterloo, he was prevented from engaging, whenhe considered himself certain of victory. By these disappointments,the Duke was severely mortified. Whether from fear that the States,if affronted, would readily conclude a separate peace, or from whatevercause, the misbehaviour of the Dutch officers and deputies was enduredby the English Government and General with singular patience. Onthis occasion, Marlborough’s remonstrances, public and private, though108very guarded, procured the removal of those whose conduct had beenmost offensive. In the course of this autumn the Emperor Josephcreated Marlborough a prince of the empire, and conferred on him theprincipality of Mindelheim.

Disgusted by the vexatious contradiction to which he had beenexposed in the past year, Marlborough earnestly desired to march anarmy into Italy, and to co-operate with Prince Eugene in driving theFrench beyond the Alps; and he was empowered by the British cabinetto take this step. But he was unable to procure troops for thepurpose either from the Dutch or from the German princes; and herelinquished his intention the more willingly on account of someunexpected successes of the French on the Rhine. Marlboroughopened the campaign of 1706 with a demonstration against Namur.Marshal Villeroi received positive orders to risk a battle for thesafety of the place, and was anxious to fight before a reinforcementof Danish and Hanoverian troops could join the allies. The twoarmies met, in nearly equal numbers, near the village of Ramillies,May 23; and the French army received a signal overthrow,which led to the immediate submission of all Brabant. Brussels,Antwerp, Ghent, and the other chief towns of the province, openedtheir gates, and with expressions of joy acknowledged Charlesof Austria as their legitimate sovereign, and the rightful heir to theSpanish crown. The siege of Ostend was the next military operation;and that important place, celebrated for its desperate resistance to theSpaniards in the preceding century, yielded in a few days. The strongtowns of Menin, Dendermond, and Ath also submitted before the endof the campaign.

The following year was fruitful in intrigues at home, and remarkablefor the decline of the duch*ess of Marlborough’s favour withQueen Anne: the military operations were barren of incident or ofinterest. The campaign of 1708 opened with a reverse of fortune.Disgusted by the overbearing conduct of the Dutch, some of themost important places which had surrendered to the allies in thepreceding year entered into negotiations to recall the French. Antwerpand Brussels were saved by a timely discovery of the plot.Ghent and Bruges passed over to the enemy, who prosecuted theirsuccess by forming the siege of Oudenard; but the rapid march ofMarlborough compelled them to abandon this design, and brought onanother battle, July 11, in which victory again rested with the allies.The next operation was to undertake the siege of Lille, one of thestrongest fortresses of France, where the attempt was considered so109impracticable, that it became the subject of general ridicule. It provedsuccessful, however, in spite of the presence of a superior army, commandedby the Dukes of Vendôme and Berwick. The prosecution ofthe attack was committed to Prince Eugene, while Marlborough remainedat the head of the covering army, which he manœuvred so ably,that the enemy never found opportunity to venture a battle for therelief of Lille. Marshal Boufflers, the governor, surrendered the townOctober 23, after a gallant resistance of two months, and retired intothe citadel, which he maintained till December 9. Even at that lateperiod of the season Ghent was besieged, and soon submitted. Brugesfollowed its example. “Thus terminated this extraordinary campaign,perhaps one of the most scientific occurring in the annals of militaryhistory. From the commencement to the close, the confederates hadto struggle against a force far superior in numbers; to attack an armyposted in a position considered as impregnable; to besiege a place ofthe first magnitude at the very moment when they were themselves ina manner invested; to open and maintain their communications inspite of innumerable obstacles, both of nature and art; and, finally, toreduce, in the depth of winter, two fortresses, defended by garrisonswhich in other circ*mstances would have been considered as formingan army of no common magnitude.”[4]

4.Coxe. Life of Marlborough.

Discouraged by these reverses, Louis commenced a negotiation forpeace; but the terms demanded by the allies were too hard, and withthe return of spring both parties took the field with larger forces thanhad yet been brought together. Tournay, a place of formidable strength,but half garrisoned and half provided, soon yielded to the arms of theallies. The siege of Mons was next formed. No effort had been sparedby the French to concentrate their forces against their most formidableenemy; and they took the field with an army not inferior to that ofthe allies. Villars, the most enterprising and successful of the Frenchmarshals, commanded in chief, and the gallant veteran, MarshalBoufflers, volunteered to serve under Villars, though his junior. Acrowd of generals of minor note, yet well known in the wars of theage, filled the subordinate commands; and the household troops, theSwiss and Irish brigades, with others, the flower of the Frencharmy, were collected in the camp. Not less imposing was the armyon the other side, commanded by Marlborough and Eugene, assistedby a train of princes and generals. Numerically, the two armiesseem to have been about equal; and both were supported by formidableparks of artillery. The spirit of the French soldiers was high,110and Villars undertook to save Mons, at the hazard of a generalengagement, which took place September 11, near the village of Malplaquet,a few miles south of the besieged town. Villars had spared notrouble to fortify a post naturally strong; and it was defended withdesperate valour. The attack was commenced by the Dutch on theright of the enemy’s line, and by Prince Eugene on the left. Littleprogress was made on these points, during an obstinate conflict of fourhours; but the centre of the French line was weakened by the demandsfor reinforcements to the wings, and the crisis of the battle at lengtharrived in a successful attack made upon the centre. Boufflers madea desperate attempt with his cavalry, whom he led repeatedly to thecharge, to retrieve the fortune of the day, but the progress of the allieswas irresistible. He saw his right wing dislodged, his centre broken,and at length was compelled to order a retreat, which he conducted ina masterly manner, and without loss. All the generals signalised theircourage in the hottest of the strife. Villars was severely wounded,and carried fainting off the field, so that the command devolved onBoufflers. Eugene was hurt, but refused to quit the field. Marlboroughand Boufflers escaped almost by miracle. The generals were devotedlyserved by their officers and troops; and the list of casualties presentsan unusual number of names of the highest ranks. The official returnsof the confederates show a loss of 18,250 men; that of the French wasprobably considerably less. Villars asserted that it did not amount to6000, and that the loss of the allies was 35,000. In his anxiety forthe honour of his troops, the Marshal said too much; for if their losswas comparatively so small, they ought never to have been beaten.Nevertheless, there was some semblance of truth in his gasconade,that such another victory would destroy the enemy; nor were the resultscommensurate in importance with the loss of men. Mons wastaken, and the campaign concluded.

After placing his troops in winter quarters, the Duke, accordingto his usual practice, repaired to London. He found his favour onthe decline, and the Whig ministry greatly shaken; and after undergoingmany vexations, and having been on the point of resigninghis command, he was glad to hasten his return to Holland. Themost important events of the campaign of 1710 were the captureof Douay, followed by that of the smaller fortresses of St. Venant andAire. The triple line of fortresses, which protected France on the sideof the Netherlands, was nearly broken through by these successes, andthe capture of Arras would have opened the way to Paris; but theskilful conduct of Villars rendered it impossible to besiege that town,and checked the progress of Marlborough, without risking a battle.111In the course of the summer the long-projected change of ministry wascompleted, and Marlborough, still retaining the command, was forcedto act in concert with his bitter enemies. His correspondence stronglyportrays the mortification which he felt, and his evil auguries as to theevent of the war.

Villars spent the winter in completing a new series of lines, extendingfrom Namur to the coast near Boulogne, by which he hoped todefend the interior of France; and, confident in their strength, heboasted that he had brought Marlborough to his ne plus ultra. Toget within these lines was the British general’s first object; and, bya long and deep-laid series of masterly manœuvres, he fairly outwittedhis antagonist, and passed the works which had cost such labour, withouta shot being fired. This enabled him to take Bouchain, the lastoperation of the campaign. Marlborough’s ruin was now determined.He was deprived of his employments in the beginning of 1712, and theutmost virulence of party spirit was let loose against him. Englandtherefore became uneasy to him, and he went abroad in the Novemberfollowing. He returned in August, 1714, and landed at Dover, justafter the Queen’s death. On the accession of George I. he was treatedwith respect, and reinstated in his offices of Captain-general and Masterof the Ordnance; but he was not admitted to take a leading partin the measures of government. In May, 1716, he was struck bypalsy; but he recovered the possession of his bodily and mental powers,and continued to attend Parliament and discharge the regular dutiesof his office. He tendered his resignation, but the King, out of respect,declined to accept it. From henceforward, however, we considerhis public life as at an end. He died of a fresh attack of palsy,June 16, 1722, in the 72d year of his age.

It will be observed that we have taken no notice of Marlborough’sconduct as a negotiator and a statesman, though for a time he was themaster-spring which regulated, with princely power, the operations ofhalf Europe. Our apology for this must be found in the length of thismemoir: to have entered upon that still more complicated part of thesubject would have doubled it. And if we have omitted to discussthe various heavy charges made against Marlborough’s character, it isnot that we believe or wish to represent him as a faultless hero, butthat in such a memoir as this it is fairer, and to better purpose, to setforward the exceeding value of the services which he rendered to hiscountry, than to expose his failings in a prominent light. And webelieve those charges for which there was any ground to have beengreatly exaggerated by party spirit.

The private character of Marlborough was adorned by many virtues,112but lessened by some weaknesses which laid him very open to thevenomed ridicule of his enemies; we allude to his avarice, and his deferencefor his busy and imperious wife. He was prudent, clearsighted,and not deceived nor led away by his passions; faithful to his domestic,and diligent in the performance of his religious, duties. In the fieldhe was humane, sedulous to promote the comfort of his soldiers, andespecially anxious, after battles, to minister all possible help and reliefto the wounded. He was zealous in enforcing respect to the observancesof religion, and in endeavouring to raise the moral character ofhis troops. “His camp,” says a biographer who had served in it,“resembled a great, well-governed city. Cursing and swearing wereseldom heard among the officers; a sot and a drunkard was the objectof scorn; and the poor soldiers, many of them the refuse and dregs ofthe nation, became, at the close of one or two campaigns, tractable,civil, sensible, and clean, and had an air and spirit above the vulgar.”

The duch*ess of Marlborough collected ample materials for her husband’slife, and committed the task of writing it first to Glover, then toMallet. Neither of them, however, executed the commission. Ledyard,who served under the Duke, published a life of him (from which theabove quotation is taken), in three volumes 8vo., in 1736. The latestand the most important is that of Mr. Coxe. The materials for theDuke’s military history are abundant, but scattered: they will be foundindicated and referred to in Coxe. His political history will be foundin the histories of the times; and the literature of the age—theworks of Burnet, Swift, Bolingbroke, and others—contain abundantreferences to the public and private actions of this great man.

113

DE L’EPÉE.

Among those persons who possess the highest claim to the gratitudeof mankind, that of having devoted their lives, without a selfish motive,to the alleviation of human misery, the Abbé de l’Epée claims a highand honourable place. Time, as is usual in cases of real excellence,has established on a sure basis merits which were at first slowlyacknowledged. Unknown, and unappreciated, this good man livedfor many years in obscurity; and, worse than this, he had to endureintolerance and persecution during the greater part of his beneficentcareer. There exists no memoir worthy of his exalted character. Thebrilliant genius of Bouilly has glanced upon his virtues and histalents; the eulogy of Bébian (himself a living and a worthy successorin the art of teaching the deaf and dumb) has shed additional lustreon a fame already bright; but still we have much to desire. Ourglimpses of the good Abbé in his public capacity, and in the retirementwhich he loved and courted, only present us with a faint outlineof his character,—an outline, however, which is sufficiently distinct toshow that the finished picture would have been surpassingly beautiful.

Charles Michel de l’Epée was born at Versailles, in November,1712. His father was the king’s architect, a man of distinguishedtalents and enlightened piety. He devoted himself to the instructionof his children, and taught them from their earliest years tomoderate their desires, to fear God, and to love their neighbour.Under such a guide, the docile heart of young De l’Epée imbibed itsfirst feelings of virtue. The thought of evil was as displeasing as evilitself to his pure mind, so strictly had he been trained in the love ofthings “honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report.” It is said thatwhen, at an advanced age, he looked back upon his long career, he didnot remember to have had more than one trial to sustain; and the114humility which adorned his life led him to consider virtue which hadbeen thus acquired without effort as possessing no merit. The pietywhich directed all his actions, and the obedience to the precepts of thegospel which regulated his will, seemed peculiarly to fit him for theservice of the altar. To this service his early wishes tended, and hisparents, who at first resisted, at length complied with his requests.

He received an education to fit him for the church, but at the commencementof his career he had to encounter difficulties and opposition.When he presented himself for admission into the priesthood, probablyas a deacon, according to the established practice of the diocese ofParis, he was required to sign a formulary of faith. As he was aJansenist, and as the form prescribed was contrary to his principles,he refused to avow by his hand what his conscience disapproved.Notwithstanding this, he was admitted to the rank of deacon, but wasat the same time told never to pretend to holy orders. This humblestation in the ministry was too humiliating for even this lowly-mindedman. His breast glowed with ardent charity towards mankind whichhe longed to put into practice, but which could find no fit sphere foraction in his humble office at the foot of the altar. The intoleranceof those ecclesiastics who stood in the way of his preferment in thechurch, obliged him to direct his attention to the bar, to which hisparents had at first destined him; he passed through the course ofprescribed studies, and took the customary oath. In the practice ofthe law De l’Epée could find no pleasure. Its scenes of violence,cunning, and cupidity, its hatreds, divisions, chicanery and fury, toodeeply affected his mild and tranquil spirit. All his wishes were directedto the service of the altar; his only desire was to be a ministerof the gospel of peace, and at last he was successful.

A nephew of the learned and liberal Bossuet, who seems to haveemulated his uncle in piety and liberality, was at this period the bishopof Troyes. This good man loved to call around him ecclesiastics ofstrict piety. Through his means M. de l’Epée was regained to thechurch; he was ordained to the sacred office, and received a canonry inthe cathedral of Troyes. He now devoted himself to the preaching ofthe gospel; and he knew how to render pleasing by his example thoseprecepts which penetrated the hearts of his hearers. Love towardsour neighbour was his predominant theme, and his efforts producedabundant fruits. His happiness was not of long duration. M. deBossuet died, and Providence had decreed new trials for M. de l’Epée.About this time M. de Soanen was persecuted for holding the religiousprinciples of the Jansenists; and his friend M. de l’Epée, who held115the same opinions as this virtuous prelate, was included in the sameinterdiction. Never was there a devotion less offensive, or a creedmore tolerant than that professed by this worthy man. His eulogistsays of him, “He spoke rarely to persons of a different opinion of theobjects of their faith. When he was led into such subjects, his discussionsnever degenerated into disputes, he had the talent of keepingthem within the boundary of those agreeable conversations where confidencereigns.”

Circ*mstances apparently accidental, which will be related, ledM. de l’Epée to devote himself to the wants of the deaf and dumb. Inearlier times some learned individuals had bestowed some attentionupon the means of educating this unfortunate class of mankind, butthey had done this philosophically rather than practically. One of thefirst of these experimenters was Pedro de Ponce, a Benedictine monkof Leon, who lived between the years 1520 and 1584. Paul Bonet,also a Spaniard, taught several deaf and dumb persons, and publishedthe first known work on the subject in 1620. A relation of hissuccess has been left us from the pen of Sir Kenelm Digby. Bonet’swork was accompanied by a manual alphabet, from which the one nowused on the Continents of Europe and America was derived. InEngland, John Bulwer published his “Philocophus, or the Deaf andDumb Man’s Friend,” in the year 1648. In 1653 Dr. Wallis appearedas an author on the same subject; he was succeeded byDr. Holder, George Sibscota, and George Dalgarno. The latterpublished his “Didascalocophus, or Deaf and Dumb Man’s Tutor,” in1680. During the same period the attention of several individuals invarious parts of Europe was directed to a similar object; the mostdistinguished of whom was John Conrad Amman, a Swiss physician,who resided at Leyden.

It is not our province here to describe the various methods pointed outby these scientific philanthropists; we have mentioned their laboursmerely with the view of showing that the art was not altogether unknownto the learned of various countries previous to the time of theAbbé de l’Epée. France was the last to commence this labour ofscience and charity. It has, however, good cause to be proud of itssuccessful efforts in the great work. It has produced a De l’Epée, aSicard, a Bébian, and a De Gerando, all energetic labourers in the samevineyard. Its disinterested beneficence in our own days has doneenough to perpetuate its name above all nations, in the hearts of thosefor whom its exertions have been called forth.

The following incident directed M. de l’Epée’s attention to the116great work which became the leading object of his life. It is saidby M. Bébian that up to this period he possessed no knowledge ofthe attempts previously made for the instruction of the deaf, and weshall presently give the Abbé’s own account of the first works on theart which came under his notice. Business took him one day to ahouse where he found only two young women; they were occupied inneedlework which seemed to engross all their attention. He addressedhimself to them; they did not answer, their eyes continuedfixed upon their work. He questioned them again, and still obtainedno answer. At this he was much surprised; being ignorant that thetwo sisters were deaf and dumb. The mother arrived soon after, andexplained to him with tears the nature of their infirmity, and of hersorrow. An ecclesiastic, named Vanin, had commenced the educationof these young persons by means of pictures. Death having takenaway from them this charitable man they remained without furtherassistance, no person being willing to continue a task so difficult, andapparently so uncertain in its results. “Believing,” says M. de l’Epée,“that these two children would live and die in ignorance of theirreligion, if I did not attempt some means of instructing them, I wastouched with compassion, and told the mother that she might sendthem daily to my house, and that I would do whatever I might findpossible for them.”

The pictures of Father Vanin he found to be a feeble and unsatisfactoryresource; the apparent successes obtained by means of articulationhad not solidity enough to seduce his philosophical mind. Buthe had not forgotten that, at the age of sixteen, in a conversation withhis tutor, who was an excellent metaphysician, the latter had provedto him this incontestable principle:—that there is no more naturalconnexion between metaphysical ideas, and the articulated soundswhich strike the ear, than between these same ideas, and the writtencharacters which strike the eye. He also recollected that his tutordrew this immediate conclusion from his premises,—that it was aspossible to instruct the deaf and dumb by writing, always accompaniedby visible signs, as to teach other men by words deliveredorally, along with gestures indicative of their signification. “Howlittle did I then think,” says M. de l’Epée, “that Providence was thuslaying the foundation of the work for which I was destined!” Fromthat period he devoted himself exclusively to the work which he hadcommenced, and while some people smiled at his endeavours, he foundin his occupation his chief happiness. A respectable minister, afterbeing present at one of his lessons, said to him, “I formerly pitied117you, I now pity you no longer; you are restoring to society and toreligion beings who have been strangers to both.” The sanguine temperamentand zeal of M. de l’Epée led him into some errors, particularlythat very pardonable one of supposing his pupils to understandmore than they really did understand. His report of their rapidadvancement, as compared with the actual practice of modern times,shows this; but with a less active mind, and with less zeal, he wouldnever have succeeded in awakening the public feeling to the importantobject of his life, and he would never have overcome the opposition ofother teachers, and of minds less generous than his own.

“One day,” says M. de l’Epée, “a stranger came to our publiclesson, and offering me a Spanish book, he said that it would be a realservice to the owner if I would purchase it. I answered, that as Idid not understand the language it would be totally useless to me:but opening it casually, what should I see but the manual alphabet ofthe Spaniards neatly executed in copper-plate! I wanted no furtherinducement; I paid the messenger his demand, and kept the book. Ithen became impatient for the conclusion of the lesson; and what wasmy surprise when I found this title, Arte para enseñar à hablar losMudos! I had little difficulty to guess that this signified The Artof teaching the Dumb to speak, and I immediately resolved to acquirethe Spanish language for the benefit of my pupils.”

Soon after meeting with this work of Bonet, he heard of Amman’sDissertatio de loquelâ Surdorum et Mutorum, in the library of a friend.Conducted by the light of these two excellent guides, De l’Epée continuedhis task with a success which quite satisfied himself.

It will be well, in the present Memoir, to touch but lightly upon thedisputes which agitated the learned in France and Germany when thepartial success of the Abbé de l’Epée became generally known. Wecannot but give praise to the Abbé for the openness and candour withwhich he made known his experience and his views; and if his argumentsto prove the superior excellence of his own method appear unsatisfactoryand inconclusive to the enlarged experience of the presentday, such arguments ought to be viewed as those of a zealous-mindedteacher of an art yet in the first stages of its infancy. Had his antagonistM. Heinich, the Leipsic teacher, been as communicative respectinghis plans as his liberal opponent, good might have resulted fromthis learned warfare; as it was, to the satisfaction of almost everybody,the Abbé de l’Epée was left master of the field, and received complimentsfrom all quarters, among which should be especially noted the“Decision” of the Academy of Zurich in his favour.

118The chief fault in the system of the Abbé de l’Epée seems to haveconsisted in its being the philosophy of the master, not sufficientlylowered to the comprehension of the pupil; a common error formaster-minds to fall into. The pupil might mechanically translatemethodical signs into language, without knowing the ideas intendedto be conveyed by such signs and by such language. Has not thisalways been a fault among the instructors of youth? Our school booksof the present day contain sufficient evidence of this failing. Beforethe time of Pestalozzi it was scarcely dreamed of, that the teachershould exchange places with the learner; that he should sufferhimself to be led by his pupil to a certain point, in order that hemight commence his superstructure on the foundation already formed;that he should ascertain the manner in which infantine impressionsare received, and become acquainted with the bent and genius of hispupil, to enable him to determine upon the best mode of rendering hislessons beneficial, so as to correct that which is erroneous, and developthat which is hidden. This is the “true method of instructing thedeaf and dumb,” and not less the true method of instructing childrengifted with all their faculties. If the good Abbé committed only thaterror, which was common in his generation, and which is still toocommon in ours; if he taught words instead of ideas—what did heless than others? This is the great fault in all our seminaries oflearning.

The number of children under the care of the Abbé de l’Epée wasvery considerable. We read in one part of his writings of six hundredand eight pupils having been at various times under instruction, andthis was written several years before he closed his career of usefulness.Again we read of upwards of sixty pupils being under his care at onetime. All this was performed for the poor, unassisted by any pecuniaryaid except his own patrimony. It is stated that the income which theAbbé de l’Epée inherited from his father amounted to about 400l.sterling; of this sum he allowed about 100l. per annum for his ownexpenses, and he considered the remainder as the inheritance of hisadopted children,—the indigent deaf and dumb,—to whose use it wasfaithfully applied. “The rich,” says he, “only come to my house bytolerance; it is not to them that I devote myself, it is to the poor; butfor these I should never have undertaken the education of the deaf anddumb.” There was no kind of privation which he did not impose onhimself for the sake of his pupils. In order to supply their wants helimited his own. So strictly did he adhere to the appropriation whichhe had made of his income, that in the rigorous winter of 1788, when119suffering under the infirmities of age, he denied himself fuel, in ordernot to intrench upon the moderate sum to which he confined his annualexpenditure. All the remonstrances of his friends on this point werefruitless. His housekeeper having observed his rigid restriction, anddoubtless imputing it to its real motive, led into his apartment hisforty pupils, who conjured him to preserve himself for their sakes. Heyielded, not without difficulty, to their persuasions, but afterwards reproachedhimself for this concession. Having exceeded his ordinaryexpenditure by about 300 livres (about 12l.), he would afterwardsexclaim in the midst of his pupils, “My poor children, I have wrongedyou of a hundred crowns!”

With that liberality which ever characterizes the true friend ofmankind, the good Abbé formed preceptors for many institutions.Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Spain, Holland, and many other countriesparticipated in the benefits which were being conferred on the deaf-mutesof Paris.

It is worthy of remark that two of the most eminent Europeansovereigns of that day encouraged the labours of the Abbé de l’Epée—CatherineII., Empress of Russia, and Joseph II., Emperor of Germany.In 1780 the ambassador of Catherine waited upon the Abbéto congratulate him in her name, and to offer him rich presents fromthat Empress, who knew well how to appreciate all that was trulygreat. “My lord,” said the Abbé, “ I never receive gold; tell hermajesty, that if my labours have appeared to her to claim her esteem,all that I ask is that she will send me a deaf and dumb person, or amaster to be instructed in this art of teaching.” The Emperor Josephbestowed a still more flattering notice upon these labours. Afterwitnessing the success of the Abbé de l’Epée, he resolved to foundin his own dominions an institution so necessary to the wants of hissubjects. During two hours and a half, the qualifications attainableby the deaf and dumb, when their powers have been properly developed,were attentively regarded by the Emperor, who had in histhoughts a young lady of high birth at Vienna in this deplorable state,whose parents wished to give her a Christian education. On beingconsulted as to the measures to be taken for this end, the Abbé offeredeither to educate the young lady gratuitously, if she were brought toParis; or to instruct any intelligent person, who might be sent to him,in the method to be pursued. The Emperor accepted the latter proposal,as it opened the prospect of permanent relief for others of hissubjects who might be in the same affecting circ*mstances. On hisreturn to Vienna, he addressed a highly flattering letter to M. de l’Epée120by the Abbé Storch, the person whom he selected for introducing theeducation of deaf-mutes into his dominions. The Abbé Storch isspoken of by the Abbé de l’Epée as “filled with the purest sacerdotalspirit, and amply endowed with every talent his mission could require.”A royal institution for deaf-mutes was founded at Vienna, which wasthe first national establishment ever erected for the deaf and dumb.

A subject of painful and anxious interest occupied the thoughts ofthe Abbé de l’Epée during his declining years. He had solicitedfrom government an endowment to perpetuate his institution after hisown death, but he obtained only promises. However, he knew thathis art would exist in Vienna if it should be forgotten at Paris, andthis gave him some consolation. When the Emperor Joseph visitedhis institution he expressed his astonishment, that a man so deservinghad not obtained at least an abbey, whose revenues he might applyto the wants of the deaf and dumb. He offered to ask one for him, oreven to give him one in his own dominions. “I am already old,” saidM. de l’Epée: “if your majesty wishes well to the deaf and dumb, itis not on my head, already bending to the tomb, that the benefit mustfall, it is on the work itself.”

M. de l’Epée found, however, some feeling hearts in France. Manymasters, taught by him, carried the fruits of his instructions into differentcities in that kingdom, as well as into foreign countries. AtBordeaux an establishment had been formed by the archbishop, M. deCicé, which owed its celebrity to its instructor, the Abbé Sicard, ayoung priest who had been sent to learn the theory and the practice ofthe method employed by the illustrious teacher at Paris. It is said byDe Gerando, that “the pupil soon became acquainted with his master’sviews, and seized them with enthusiasm.” He was eminently calculatedto see their value. Gifted with a vivid and fertile imagination,he had a singular ability in clothing abstract notions in sensible forms;he had a particular talent for that pantomime which is the proper languageof the deaf-mute, and which the Abbé de l’Epée had proposedto carry to a high degree of developement in his system of methodicsigns: endowed with an enterprising and flexible mind, he wouldsearch for and discover new and various modes of expressing andexplaining ideas and precepts. He appeared to possess a kind ofnatural talent for communicating with deaf-mutes.

This was the man who was destined to succeed M. de l’Epée.His talents and his virtues proved him to be worthy of receivingthat inheritance of glory and of beneficence. His successes filled hismaster with joy, who, in the overflowing of his hopes, said to him one121day, “Mon ami, j’ai trouvé le verre, c’est à vous d’en faire les lunettes.”A testimony as honourable to the modesty of the one, as to the talent ofthe other. Sicard was in full possession of his master’s ideas; amplyhas he developed and extended them by his own clear and analyticalmind.

If the Abbé de l’Epée was not the first inventor of a system forteaching the deaf and dumb, he was the first who benefited society byany extensive application of the discovery. We hesitate not to assertthat he was an inventor of great merit, particularly as regards thosedetails which made the discovery of service to those for whose instructionit was designed. Previous to his time, it had been discussedrather as a possible, than as an extensively practicable, art; and the fewpersons who had been previously instructed must be viewed more asthe results of experiments to test philosophical principles, than as pupilsregularly and systematically taught.

The Abbé de l’Epée died December 23, 1789. The Abbé Fauchet,preacher to the king, pronounced his funeral oration; but next tohis mute eulogists in all countries, M. de Bébian and M. Bouilly havebeen the means of making known his fame and his merits to the world.From their writings much of the present Memoir is derived. M. deSeine, a deaf-mute pupil of the Abbé de l’Epée, wrote the followingdistich to be placed under the bust of his benevolent teacher:—

122

COLBERT.

Jean Baptiste Colbert was born at Rheims, August 29, 1619. Hisrelations, both on the father’s and on the mother’s side, were connectedwith the civil service of the state. This facilitated his entrance intopublic life, and may have been the means of directing his mind to thestudy of statistics, and of the causes of national wealth and greatness:for to these abstruse pursuits it appears that he devoted his attentionfrom an early age. He entered into the service of the Secretary ofState, Tellier, in 1648. Tellier introduced him to the prime minister,Mazarin, who exercised the authority of a regent during the minorityof Louis XIV.; and having gained the esteem of Mazarin, to whoseinterests he remained firmly attached during the stormy period of theFronde, he was rewarded, on the minister’s final triumph over hisenemies, by an entire confidence, and an abundant share of lucrative,honourable, and important employment. Mazarin died in 1661, andon his death-bed recommended Colbert to his master in these strongterms:—“I owe every thing to you, Sire; but in presenting Colbertto you, I regard my debt as in some sort acquitted.”

Colbert, in his daily intercourse with the minister, had many opportunitiesfor explaining and exposing to his youthful master the malversationsand abuses practised in all matters connected with therevenue. Louis, therefore, was already prepossessed in his favour, andat once appointed him Intendant of Finance. But Fouquet, the chiefminister of that department, interfered both with Colbert’s hopes ofpromotion, and his power of introducing any beneficial reforms. Fouquetwas a patron of art and learning, of generous temper, and agreeablemanners; but he was a corrupt and lavish financier, and his unboundedexpenses were defrayed from the public purse. To attempt123reform under such a superior was hopeless; and to declare openhostility was dangerous: avoiding both these perils, Colbert made ithis business privately to open the eyes of Louis to the frauds practisedon the government. In this he succeeded. Fouquet was displacedin 1661, and Colbert succeeded to his functions, with the new title ofComptroller General of Finance. His conduct in this affair did notescape censure, and the epithet of traitor was liberally bestowed uponhim by the friends of Fouquet. It is clear that Colbert was right inbringing to justice the frauds of his predecessor; and it is easier toexpose continued, than to give proof of foregone abuses. But, in suchcases as this, concealment and duplicity are separated by a very uncertainboundary; and while we hesitate, in the absence of minute information,to stigmatize with treachery this high-minded and unbendingman, we must confess that his character would have been spared someobloquy, if his hostility to the rival whom he supplanted had been moreopen.

In 1669, Colbert, in addition to his other offices, assumed the functionsof Secretary of State and Minister of Marine; but from the year 1670his influence declined, in proportion as his rival Louvois obtained agreater ascendency over the king’s mind. He died, September 6, 1683,unregretted by the king, who owed the means of his greatness to him;and lampooned and hated by the people, for whose relief he had donemore, both by the correction of abuses, and by opening new sources ofnational wealth, than any French minister either before or since.

To estimate his services properly, it must not be forgotten that,since the time of Sully, no minister had seriously endeavoured tolighten the public burdens, to reform the system of taxation, or tointroduce order and economy into the public expenditure; and thegood which Sully had done was neglected or undone in the long administrationsof Richelieu and Mazarin. When Colbert came into office,all was in confusion: taxes were levied without system; money spentwithout thought how to meet the expenditure; new taxes imposedand farmed to collectors, as new wants for money occurred; untildisorder reached such a height, that as the nominal taxes were increased,the money paid into the treasury diminished. The wholewas a system of shifts, temporising, and corruption, in which everypublic servant felt the insecurity of his position, and made the most ofhis opportunities while they lasted. The first business of the newComptroller General was to introduce strict order into every departmentof the revenue, and to render every subordinate officer duly responsible.Under the pernicious system which exempted the nobility from payment124of direct taxes, a great number of persons had fraudulentlyassumed titles, and claimed rank, while another class had obtainedimmunity from taxation, by the prostitution of court-favour, or the abuseof official privileges. These cases Colbert caused to be investigated,and those who failed in making out a legal claim to immunity, werecompelled to pay their share of the public burdens, to the relief of thelabouring classes, on whom nearly the whole weight of taxation fell.A more extensive relief was afforded by modifying and diminishingthe existing imposts; which was done with so much judgment, that therevenue was improved, in consequence of the stimulus thus given toindustry. Colbert abolished most of the provincial tolls, which offereda continual temptation to fraud, and a constant hinderance to internaltrade: he mitigated the taille, which pressed most heavily upon the poorcultivators of the soil: he improved the means of transport, by alteringold roads, cutting new ones, and digging canals, especially thecelebrated Canal of Languedoc, connecting the Mediterranean andAtlantic. By these facilities of communication the interests ofa*griculture and trade were alike promoted: but to the improvement ofthe latter, to render France a manufacturing nation, and to increaseher commercial resources in every respect, the minister’s attention wasparticularly directed. The silk trade of Lyons; the cloth trade ofAbbeville, Elbœuf, and Louviers; the celebrated Parisian manufactoriesof plate-glass and tapestry, with other sources of wealth, owed theircommencement or their extension to his care. To tempt capital andtalent into these new employments, Colbert advanced sums of moneywithout interest; he granted exemptions, honorary distinctions, andeven letters of nobility. By another regulation, which shows a mindadvanced beyond the prejudices of his day, liberty was granted to thenobility to enter into commerce, and for a time to lay down their rank;with the power of resuming it, when the purpose of their temporary industryhad been answered. Thus far the valuable services, and the enlightenedviews of the minister, will be acknowledged by all; but when itis added that the infant manufactures of France were propped by prohibitorylaws, minute regulations, and protecting duties, the agreementceases; and the two great parties which respectively support and opposefree trade, will judge him in accordance to their opinions on this importantsubject. So also with respect to another great question, the free orlimited exportation of corn. M. Necker, in his ‘Eloge de Colbert,’has argued strongly in favour of the course which the minister pursued,of opening and shutting the ports by royal edict, as the exigencies ofthe season seemed to require; and his authority is entitled to respect,125from those who hesitate to admit the soundness of his arguments onthis subject. But whatever judgment be passed on Colbert’s policytouching these questions, it should not be forgotten, in estimating hischaracter, that at the time, political economy had no existence as ascience, and that he had to think out for himself the principles whichconduct nations to wealth and happiness. What wonder then if oldprejudices did sometimes stand in his way, or if he deviated from thestraight line to his object, where there was no track to guide him?

A similar difference of opinion may exist upon another of Colbert’smeasures,—the establishment of trading companies to the East andWest Indies, and to Africa, with exclusive privileges. Here againhis policy has had an able advocate in M. Necker. Under Colbert’sadministration, the colonial possessions of France were extended;fisheries were encouraged; a new trade was opened with the Northof Europe, and a fresh impulse given to that with the Levant;while the depredations of the Mediterranean pirates were repressedby arms, the only arguments to which they have ever listened. Theeffect of his sedulous attention to the springs of national wealth, isshortly shown in the comparison given in the ‘Biographie Universelle,’of the state of the revenue at the epochs of Colbert’s accession to office,and of his death. At the former, there was a debt of 52 millions oflivres, and a revenue of 89 millions; at the latter, a debt of 32 millions,while the revenue was increased to 115 millions: at the former, thedisposable revenue was only 32 millions; at the latter, it amountedto 83; yet the oppressive taille had been reduced in the interval from53 millions to 35. And it is to be remembered, that the operations ofthe financier were not assisted by an economical and peaceful monarch:on the contrary, vast sums were lavished in courtly pomp, and a seriesof wars was carried on with vigour and eminent success.

As Minister of Marine, he displayed his usual ability. He raisedthe French Fleet from insignificance to hold the second rank in Europe;and gave scope for the talents of Duquesne, Forbin, Jean Bart, andother eminent naval men, to display themselves.

Strict in his attention to economy, Colbert never showed a nigg*rdlydisregard to the arts and sciences, which furnish our best and most intellectualpleasures, and offer the purest incentives for men to labour inamassing national or individual wealth. France, under his administration,saw a profuse expenditure in works of public splendour or utility;and Paris owes to him a large portion of the magnificence which itnow boasts. The Quays, the Boulevards, the Palace of the Tuileries,the Hotel des Invalides, &c., were improved or constructed under his126care; and the splendid colonnade of the Louvre was designed andexecuted by Perrault, a native artist, in preference to the Italian,Bernini. Colbert was anxious to persuade the king to complete theLouvre in preference to wasting money on the sandy plains of Versailles.“Your Majesty knows,” he said, “that in the absence ofdazzling actions nothing so strongly indicates greatness of mind inprinces as splendour in building. While you have spent immense sumsin Versailles, you have neglected the Louvre, which is the grandestpalace in the world, and the one most worthy of your Majesty.” Norwas he careless of more homely improvements; for the paving, lighting,and watching of the capital were remodelled, and taken under thecharge of government.

To literary and scientific merit, Colbert was a liberal and activepatron. At his instance Louis XIV. granted pensions to the mostdistinguished savans of Europe, as well foreigners as Frenchmen; andthough the amount of the gratifications thus conferred was not large, itwas sufficient to make the praises of ‘Le Grand Monarque,’ as of asecond Augustus, ring through Europe. Under his auspices werefounded the Académie des Inscriptions, and the Académie des Sciences;the Academies of Painting and Sculpture, and the School of Rome,whither the most promising pupils of the Parisian Academies weresent to complete their studies. The King’s Library, and the Jardindes Plantes, were extended; the Observatory of Paris was founded;and the celebrated astronomers, Cassini and Huygens, were invitedthither.

Such is the outline of Colbert’s ministerial life. He accomplishedmuch; but the will of an opinionated master, and the jealousy of hisministerial colleagues, especially the celebrated Louvois, compelledhim to leave much undone, which he would gladly have done, and toundo, before his death, some of the good which he had done. His planswere deranged by long and expensive wars; and he was obliged to reimposetaxes which he had taken off, and to yield to abuses which he hadat first successfully resisted. The good which he had done was thenforgotten. He would have escaped much unpopularity by resigningoffice as soon as his views were thwarted, and his principles laid aside;but if he acted from a desire to serve his country by doing for her thebest which was permitted, and mitigating evils which he could notprevent, he had his reward in the solitude of his closet for the ingratitudeof the public. Yet it is a severe trial for one who has laboured zealouslyfor his countrymen, to exchange their admiration for their hatred; andthat not because he has himself changed, but because the change of127circ*mstances has crippled his powers. That courtiers and noblesshould have disliked and persecuted Colbert is no wonder; but it washard that he, who had lent his whole mind to the relief of the productiveclasses, should have incurred the hate of the people to such a degree,that from a fear of outrage to his remains, his funeral was celebrated bynight, and under military escort. The readiness with which his serviceswere forgotten may be ascribed, in part, to his disposition and manners,which were cold and unconciliating. The king said of him, that inspite of his long residence at court, he had always preserved the airand manner of a bourgeois; and his piercing eye, his stern andfrowning brow, were calculated to assist the natural austerity of histemper, and to exact obedience, not to inspire good-will.

The ‘Vies des Hommes Illustres de France,’ by D’Auvigny, is saidto contain a good life of Colbert. The materials of this account areprincipally derived from the Eloge of M. Necker, (which obtained theprize of the Académie Française in 1775,) and partly from theBiographie Universelle.

128

WASHINGTON.

George Washington was born in February, 1732, on the banks ofthe river Potomac, in Virginia. His father dying when he was tenyears old, he received a plain but useful education at the hands ofhis mother. He soon manifested a serious and contemplative disposition,and, in his thirteenth year, drew up a code of regulations forhis own guidance, in which the germs are visible of those high principleswhich regulated his conduct in mature life. As a boy, heconceived a liking for the naval service, but, being dissuaded from this,he qualified himself for the occupation of a land-surveyor; and, at theage of eighteen, obtained, through his relation Lord Fairfax, the officeof Surveyor of the Western District of Virginia. This introduced himto the notice of Governor Dinwiddie, and in the following year he wasappointed one of the Adjutant-Generals of Virginia, with the duty oftraining the militia.

The boundaries of the British and French possessions in Americawere at that time subjects of dispute. In 1753, Washington wassent on a mission to the French settlement on the Ohio, which heexecuted successfully; and, on his return, published a journal of hisroute, which attracted much notice. In the following year he was lessfortunate, being taken prisoner with his party, while in command ofan expedition against the French. Being allowed to return home, hewithdrew from the service and went to reside at Mount Vernon, anestate which descended to him on the death of an elder brother. In1755, he accepted the rank of Aide-de-camp to General Braddock, andwas present at the surprise of the British in the woods near the Monongahela,where his coolness, courage, and knowledge of Indian warfare,chiefly contributed to the preservation of a handful of the troops. Heescaped unhurt, but had three horses killed under him, and his dresswas four times pierced with rifle-balls. Having gained much credit129by his conduct on this occasion, Washington was next employed todefend the western frontier against the incursions of the French andIndians. He concluded this harassing service at the end of fouryears, by reducing Fort du Quesne, and driving the French beyondthe Ohio, and then resigned his commission.

After his return to Mount Vernon, in 1759, Washington married;and during the next fourteen years, his time was divided between hisduties as a member of the Colonial Assembly, and agricultural pursuits,in which he took great interest. The disputes which preceded theRevolution again drew him from private life. He maintained that theAmericans were entitled to all the rights of British subjects, andcould not be taxed by a legislature in which they were not represented;and he recommended that, on the failure of peaceful and constitutionalresistance, recourse should be had to arms. In 1774, the commandof the troops raised by Virginia was given to him; and in 1775, herepresented that State in the Convention held at Philadelphia. Whenthe war began, Washington was chosen Commander-in-Chief of theAmerican Army, an office which he accepted without remuneration,saying, that emolument would not have tempted him to forego thepleasures of private life, and that he should only require to have hisexpenses reimbursed. His private letters have since proved, that hisobject, at that time, was not to procure separation from England;but his alacrity in entering into the contest, and his constancythroughout its continuance, refute the insinuation, only countenancedby certain forged letters, that he was not hearty in the cause ofindependence.

About fourteen thousand people were at this time collected aroundBoston, where General Gage was held in a state of siege. Washingtonreached the insurgent camp in July, 1775, and proceeded to giveto the assembled multitude the form and discipline of a regular force.His next endeavours were to extend the period for which men enlistingwere obliged to serve, and to ensure the maintenance of the troops byappointing a Commissary-General to collect supplies, instead of dependingfor them on the voluntary and uncertain contributions of theseveral States. Neither of these wishes was complied with, and thewant of every requisite obliged Washington to change the siege intoa blockade, until the following March, when, having obtained artilleryand engineers, he forced the English to give up the town and embarkon board their fleet. His conduct during this siege is admirable, bothfor the resolution with which he maintained the blockade with aninferior army composed of untried men, and the patience with whichhe endured the reproaches of the people, to whom the real difficulties130of his situation, with respect to arms and ammunition, could not bedisclosed. He also established the principle, that captured Americansshould be treated as prisoners of war.

In April, 1776, Washington anticipated the British in occupyingNew York, and the adjacent islands. Before the arrival of Lord Howe,in July, independence was proclaimed; and the American generalrefused to negotiate unless acknowledged as the functionary of anindependent government, saying, that America, being her own mistress,and having committed no fault, needed no pardon. A severe defeaton Long Island, and subsequent losses, compelled him to abandon theState of New York to the English, to retreat with great loss throughNew Jersey, and to take shelter behind the Delaware, near Philadelphia.He showed much skill in preventing the British from takingadvantage of these reverses, which he sought to repair by surprisingtheir posts at Trenton and Princetown, in Jersey, where he made manyhundred prisoners. These successes were well timed, and revived thebroken spirit of the country. In 1777, Washington applied toCongress for more extensive powers, which were granted him, with thetitle of Dictator, by which he was empowered to act on his ownresponsibility in all military affairs. But he was not supplied withthe means of acting effectually; and the campaign of that year wasone of misfortunes, the Americans being defeated at Brandywine,and forced to yield Philadelphia to the English. During the wintermonths Washington occupied a fortified camp at Valley Forge, andhis army, ill-supplied with ammunition and provisions, was daily indanger of being destroyed by hunger or the enemy. He freely expressedhis opinion to Congress of their misconduct, and his remarksoccasioned a faction which desired to displace him from his command,and to substitute General Gates; but this was never seriously attempted.The campaign of 1778 was favourable to Washington;he recovered Philadelphia, and following Clinton in his retreat throughNew Jersey, brought him to action at Monmouth. The issue of thisengagement gave new confidence to the people, and completely restoredhim to the good will of Congress. During the years 1779 and 1780,the war was actively carried on in the South, and Carolina and Virginiawere reduced by the British. In the autumn of 1780, Major André,who had been sent by Clinton to concert with Arnold measures forbetraying the post at West Point, was seized within the American lines,and tried and hanged as a spy. Whatever were the merits or misfortunesof the British officer, the duty of Washington was too plain tobe mistaken, and the obloquy he incurred in its performance was undeserved.

131Washington had throughout contended that the country could onlybe delivered by raising a permanent army, and consolidating theunion of the States, so as to form a vigorous government. Five years’experience had taught Congress the inefficiency of temporary armies,and they resolved to form a permanent one with a system of half-payand pensions, as an inducement to enter the service. But as the governmentof each State was empowered to levy its own taxes, and conduct allthe measures for carrying this resolve into effect, such delay wasoccasioned, that although Count Rochambeau arrived from France inAugust, 1780, with an auxiliary force of five thousand men, the Americanarmy could not actively co-operate with him during that year.The temporizing policy pursued by the States had severely tried theconstancy of Washington, but did not lead him to despair of final success.The army, suffering extreme want, was kept in the field chieflyby attachment to his person. Attentive to alleviate their hardships,he did not permit any disorderly license; and although early in 1781he allowed Congress to pacify the revolted troops, he, on a secondoccasion, shortly after, forcibly compelled the mutineers to submit, andsummarily tried and executed many of them.

The pecuniary aid of France, and increased activity of the AmericanGovernment, enabled Washington to resume offensive measures in thesummer of 1781. Earl Cornwallis, then in Virginia, and but feeblyopposed by La Fayette, sent a part of his army to strengthen Clintonin New York. Shortly after, De Grasse arrived off the coast ofVirginia with a French fleet. Washington took advantage of thisconjuncture to transfer the war to the South. Deceiving Clinton asto his real design, he marched rapidly through New Jersey and Maryland,and, embarking his army on the Chesapeake, effected a junctionat Williamsburgh with La Fayette. By the combined operation oftheir forces, assisted by the fleet under De Grasse, Lord Cornwalliswas compelled to surrender at York Town, with his whole force,October 19, after a siege of thirteen days. This event decided thewar; but Washington remained watchful to preserve the advantagesgained, and to provide for future contingencies, until 1783, when ageneral peace was concluded.

Washington then prepared to resume his station as a privatecitizen. The army had become disaffected towards the States, andappeared not unwilling to subvert the freedom of their country, if thegeneral had sought his own aggrandizement. But he nobly rejectedall such schemes, and persuaded the soldiers to return home, and trustto the assurance of Congress for the discharge of the arrears due tothem. Having publicly taken leave of his officers, he repaired to132Annapolis, and, December 23, 1783, appeared in Congress, and resignedhis commission. He also presented the account of his receiptsand expenditure during the late war, the items of which were enteredin his own handwriting. His expenditure amounted to 19,306l., andit subsequently appeared that he had applied considerable sums ofhis own to the public service, which he neglected to claim. Heasked no favour or reward for himself, except that his letters shouldbe free from postage, but he strongly recommended to Congress theclaims of his late army. Having delivered a farewell address to Congress,and forwarded one of a like character to the government ofeach State, pointing out the advantages they at present possessed, andgiving his advice as to the future conduct of their affairs, he retiredto Mount Vernon to enjoy the pleasures of private life. But althoughthe next two years were passed in retirement, the mind of Washingtonwas actively directed to public affairs. Beside maintaining acorrespondence with the most eminent men, as well in Europe as inhis own country, he was engaged in various projects to promote theagricultural and commercial interests of his native State. Under hisdirection, companies were formed to improve the navigation of therivers James and Potomac, thus making Virginia the trading mart ofthe Western States. A number of shares in the James River Company,which were presented to him in 1785 by the legislature ofVirginia, he employed in founding the college in Virginia, now calledby his name. His deference to the popular feelings and prejudices onthe subject of liberty, was shown in his conduct with regard to the Cincinnati,a military society of which he was President, instituted to commemoratethe occurrences of the late war. An outcry was raised thatthe honours conferred by this society being hereditary, a titled orderwould be created in the State. Washington therefore prevailed on themembers to annul the obnoxious regulations, and to agree that thesociety should cease at the termination of their lives.

The want of union amongst the States, and the incapacity of thegovernment, engaged the attention of every able man in America, andmore especially interested Washington, who desired to witness theestablishment of a great republic. The principal defect of the existinggovernment was, that no acts of Congress in forming commercialtreaties, borrowing money, or introducing national regulations, werebinding on the individual States, each of which pursued its owninterests, without showing any disposition to redeem the engagementsof the government with the public creditors, either at home or abroad.Washington’s principles were democratic; but he was opposed to thosewho contended for the absolute independence of the individual States,133being convinced that each must sacrifice a portion of its liberty for thesecurity of the whole, and that, without an energetic central government,the confederation would be insignificant. His representations tothe Congress and the individual States, backed by the increasing distressof the country, at length brought about the Convention of Philadelphia,which met in May, 1787, and having chosen WashingtonPresident, continued sitting until September; when the federal constitutionwas finally decided on, and was submitted to the States fortheir approval.

Having acquitted himself of this duty, Washington retired to privatelife until March, 1789, when he was elected President of the UnitedStates. He had used no exertion to obtain this distinction, which hisimpaired health and love of retirement rendered unsuitable to him:he, however, accepted it, and his journey to New York was one continuedtriumph. April 30, he took the oaths prescribed by the constitution,and delivered his inaugural address, in which he dwelt mostfully on his own reasons for again entering on public life, and on theduties incumbent upon members of the Congress. He declared thathe would receive no remuneration for his services, and required that astated sum should be allowed for defraying the expenses of his office.

The President of the Union being a new political personage, itbecame requisite to establish certain observances of etiquette towardshim. Washington’s arrangements in this respect were sufficientlysimple, yet they excited jealousy, as savouring of regal and courtlycustoms. The restriction placed on the admission of idle visitors, whohourly intruded on him, caused much offence, and became the subjectof remonstrance, even from intelligent men. One of the first acts ofWashington’s administration was to empower the legislature to becomeresponsible for the general debt of the States, and to levy taxes for thepunctual discharge of the interest upon it. The operation of the newgovernment was in every respect satisfactory, its beneficial influencebeing apparent in the increasing prosperity of the country; and beforethe end of the second year’s presidency, Rhode Island and NorthCarolina, which at first were dissentient, desired to participate in thebenefits of the Union, and were admitted as members. In 1790,Washington concluded a treaty with the hostile Indians on the Southernfrontier; but the war which he directed against the Indians on the NorthWestern frontier was unfortunate, the American forces sustainingthree severe defeats. Upon the whole, however, the period of his firstPresidency passed over prosperously and tranquilly. He was annoyedby occasional differences in his cabinet, and by the discontent of theanti-federal party; but being supported by John Adams, Hamilton,134and other able men, his government suffered no real embarrassment.

In 1792, as he possessed the general confidence of the people, hewas unanimously re-elected President; and in March, 1793, againtook the oaths of office. The French Revolution was hailed withjoy by the Americans, among whom an almost universal wishprevailed, to assist in establishing, as they thought, true freedomin Europe. But Washington perceived that the real interests ofhis country required peace. He acknowledged the Governmentof the French Republic, and sent an ambassador to Paris; butdeclared his resolution to adopt a strict neutrality in the contestbetween France and the allied powers of Europe. Still the enthusiasmin favour of the French continued to increase; and, at the instigationof M. Genet, envoy from Paris, privateers were armed in the Americanports, and sent to cruise against the British. Washingtonpromptly suppressed this practice; and the conduct of Genet havingbeen intemperate and insolent towards the President, and calculatedto produce serious disturbance in the States, he took the requisitesteps for having him recalled. The determination of the Presidentto preserve peace was not the only ground of popular discontent. Theimposition of excise taxes, as they were termed by the people, excitedserious murmurings; and, in 1794, a general rising took place inPennsylvania, which was put down without bloodshed by a vigorousdisplay of force, and the principals, after being condemned to death,were pardoned. The ferment among the people made a war withEngland seemingly unavoidable. Washington, at this juncture, appointedMr. Jay envoy to England, with full powers to conclude atreaty, in which all points then at issue between the two nations shouldbe adjusted. With the concurrence of the Senate he ratified this treaty,regardless of the outcry raised against it; and subsequently upheld theauthority of the President, in refusing to permit the House of Representativesto revise the articles it contained. The people soon perceivedthat the advantages to be derived from the contentions in Europe madeit impolitic for their own country to become a party to them, andconfidence and good will towards the President were in a great measurerestored. These favourable dispositions were confirmed by the terminationof a successful war against the Indians, and by a treatywith Spain, by which the navigation of the Mississippi to the Oceanwas secured to the Americans.

Among the acts which immediately proceeded from Washingtonduring his Presidency, were those for forming a fund to pay off thenational debt, and for organizing the militia of the country. He was135active and assiduous in his duties as chief magistrate, making toursthrough the States, and ascertaining the progressive improvement ineach, and the means which would most tend to increase it. Thelimited powers conferred on the President prevented his effecting somuch as he desired, and the public measures originating from himwere but few. He declined being nominated a third time to the officeof President, and on his retirement published an address to the peopleof the United States, in which, after remarking on the condition andprospects of the country, he insisted on the necessity of cementing theUnion of the States, and upholding the supremacy of the FederalGovernment; he also advised them never to admit the influence offoreign powers, and to reap benefit from the quarrels amongst theStates of Europe, by remaining at peace with all.

Washington passed the rest of his days at Mount Vernon, engagedin the society of his friends, and in the improvement of hisestate. He was for several years a member of the British AgriculturalAssociation; and the efforts he made to form a similar society inAmerica, and his letters to Sir John Sinclair, (a fac simile copy ofwhich is deposited in the British Museum,) show the interesthe took in agricultural affairs. He died December 13, 1799, inhis sixty-eighth year, after a few days’ illness, and was buried atMount Vernon. He left no family. Congress suspended its sittingon receiving the intelligence of his death, and a public mourning wasordered for him.

In person, Washington was robust, and above the middle height.He was thoughtful and reserved, without being repulsive; and hismanners were those of the old school of English gentlemen. Althoughmild and humane, he was stern in the performance of duty, and never,upon such occasions, yielded to softness or compassion. His speechesand official letters are simple and earnest, but wanting perhaps in thatconciseness which marks vigour of thought. Whilst President, hewas assailed by the violence of party spirit. On his decease his worthwas justly appreciated, and the sorrow at his loss was universal andsincere. Washington was distinguished less by the brilliancy of histalents than by his moral goodness, sound judgment, and plain butexcellent understanding. His admirable use of those sterling, thoughhomely qualities has gained a rank for him among the greatest andbest of men; and his name will be co-existent, as it was co-eval, withthat of the empire, of which, no less by his rare civil wisdom than hiseminent military talents, he may be considered the founder.

The virtues which distinguish him from all others who have unitedthe fame of statesman and captain, were two-fold, and they are as136great as they are rare. He refused power which his own merit hadplaced within his reach, constantly persisting in the preference of arepublican to a monarchical form of government, as the most congenialto liberty when it is not incompatible with the habits of the people andthe circ*mstances of society; and he even declined to continue longerthan his years seemed to permit at the head of that commonwealthwhich he had founded. This subjugation of all ambitious feelings tothe paramount sense of duty is his first excellence; it is the sacrificeof his own aggrandizement to his country’s freedom. The next is likeunto it; his constant love of peace when placed at the head of affairs:this was the sacrifice of the worthless glory which ordinary men prizethe most, to the tranquillity and happiness of mankind. Whereforeto all ages and in all climes, they who most love public virtue will holdin eternal remembrance the name of George Washington; neverpronouncing it but with gratitude and awe, as designating a mortalremoved above the ordinary lot of human frailty.

The words of his last will in bequeathing his sword to his nephews—thesword which he had worn in the sacred war of liberty—ought tobe graven in letters of gold over every palace in the world: “Thissword they shall never draw but in defence of freedom, or of theircountry, or of their kindred; and when thus drawn, they shall preferfalling with it in their hands to the relinquishment thereof.”

For farther information we refer to the works of Ramsay and Marshall;and to the Correspondence of Washington, published by Mr.Sparkes.

137

MURILLO.

The Spanish school may be said to hold a middle place between theschools of Italy and Flanders. The most natural and the most indigenousstyle it can boast is, unquestionably, that of Murillo, who was neverout of Spain; and although it is true that he formed his manner, in agreat degree, from the study of Ribera and Vandyck, the principlesof those painters are so different, that it would be difficult to recogniseeither model in a union of the two. But Murillo superadded muchthat was his own, and much that was immediately, and somewhat tooindiscriminately, derived from the observation of nature. The artists ofthe school of Seville, of which Murillo is the chief, were generally callednaturalistas, as opposed to those who followed the Italian purity of tastein design, invention, and imitation. Although it is hardly safe to classall the professors of one province under a particular designation, theearlier school of Valencia may be considered the rival of the naturalistas:its Italian character is to be traced from Vincent Juanes, whowas compared by Palomino to Raffaelle; in Ribalta, a work by whom,it is said, was mistaken in Rome for a performance of Raffaelle’s;in Jacinto Gerónimo di Espinosa, by Cean Bermudez called a secondDomenichino; and in Pedro Orrente and Luis Tristan, who imitatedBassano and Titian. The appearance in Italy of the fac-similists andtenebrosi (corresponding with the Spanish naturalistas, with whomthey are connected by Ribera’s imitation of Caravaggio) is considered,with some reason, to have hastened the decline of painting in thatcountry; in Spain and Flanders, on the other hand, the art which hadbefore been a feeble or mannered imitation of the best Italian works,then only began to be great when the style of the naturalistas wasintroduced. The practice of the Sevillian painters in copying objects of138still life as a preparatory study, was probably derived from theNetherlands, and this style again, which was ominous of degradationand decay in Italy, was the cause of much of the excellence of theAndalusian painters. The taste of these painters, in short, was forindividual nature; a taste which was in some degree, and in spite ofthemselves, corrected by their being almost exclusively employed inpainting for churches. The arts in Spain, from their earliest introduction,have been devoted to religion; nor is it to be wondered that thisshould be the case in a country which seems to have considered itselfin an especial manner the representative of Catholicism, a naturalconsequence, perhaps, of its defending the outposts of Christendomfrom the infidels. The representation of the human figure is strictlyforbidden by the Koran, and there can be no doubt that the spirit ofopposition was manifested in this point, as in every other, by theantagonists of the Moors. The conquest of Granada at the close of thefifteenth century happens to correspond with the beginning of the greatæra of art in Italy, but the demand for altar-pieces in Spain, beforeand after that time, is proved by a constant influx of Italian, Flemish,and even German painters; a fact which is commonly explained bythe wealth which flowed or was expected to flow into the country bythe discovery of America about the same period. However this may be,so late as the seventeenth century, when painting may be supposed atlength to have been appreciated for itself, and to have been applied tothe ends of general cultivation, as the handmaid of history and poetry,it is a curious fact that neither Roelas, Castillo, nor Murillo, not to mentionearlier names, ever painted a mythologic or merely historic subject.From the sublimest mysteries of the church, and from themesdemanding more than ordinary elevation, the Sevillian painters turnedwith eagerness to the homely materials of modern miracles, and fromthese descended only to indulge their fondness for indiscriminateimitation. The pictures of Beggar Boys by which Murillo is perhapsmost known in this country, come under the class of subjects anddisplay the mode of treatment which a school of mere copyistsof nature would prefer. Some works of this kind, however, attributedto Murillo, and possessing great merit, are said, with probability,to be the work of Nuñez de Villavicencio, his pupil. It was, however,precisely such studies as these, which enabled Murillo and hiscontemporaries to infuse into their religious subjects that powerfulreality which was among the means of naturalizing the art in Spain,and which thus produced a new style, uniting sometimes the dignity ofthe Italian School with the truth and vivacity of Flemish imitation.

139Bartolomé Esteban Murillo is supposed by the writers who followPalomino, among whom Cumberland is one, to have been born atPilas, a town five leagues west of Seville, in the year 1613; but thediscovery of the memorial of his baptism in Seville, with every proofof identity, shows that he was born in that city, January 1, 1618.His early fondness for drawing induced his parents to place him withJuan del Castillo, a designer of some merit, although not remarkableas a colourist. The gentle manners and good education of Murillosoon recommended him to his master, who appears to have preferredhim to his other scholars, among whom were Pedro de Moya, andAlonzo Cano; but this preference did not exempt the favourite fromthe servile offices of grinding colours, preparing canvasses, and all themechanical preparations which the Spanish painters considered an essentialpart of an artist’s education. It appears that the schools of Sevillegenerally were deficient in casts from the antique: and in investigatingthe structure of the human frame, the studies of the artists were chieflylimited to an anatomical figure by Becerra, a sculptor who hadreturned to Spain early in the sixteenth century, from the school ofM. Angelo. The living model was, however, constantly referred to, andthe fellow-students of Murillo were in the habit of sitting to each otherfor portions of figures that were wanted, when they could not afford topay hired models. It was also the custom of the schools to studydrapery arranged on the mannequin, or lay-figure, by the master.It was more usual to paint than to draw from the figures, but nostudent was permitted to copy the model thus till he had attaineddexterity with the brush by imitating objects of still life: a practicewhich accounts for the number of well-painted Spanish pictures of thisclass. Such pictures, often representing eatables with kitchen utensils,are known by the general name of Bodegones. Herrera el Mozo wascalled by the Italians “Lo spagnuolo de’ pesci,” from his skill inpainting fish, and Pedro de Camprobin equalled the best masters infruit and flowers. Velasquez and Murillo, it is said, acquired theirpower of execution from their early practice in this kind of imitation.The mode of copying the human figure was dictated by these preliminarystudies; freedom of hand, a disdain of minuteness more than compensatedby powerful effects, indifference as to selection, and consequently,a very moderate degree of beauty of form, distinguish the Spanishnaturalistas. About the time Murillo began his career, the school ofSeville was rapidly advancing under the influence of four distinguishedmasters and teachers of the art, Herrera the elder, or, to give him hisSpanish appellation, Herrera el viejo, Pacheco, (under both of whom140Velasquez studied), Roelas, and Castillo. The greatest emulationexisted among their respective scholars; and in all public works inwhich the latter competed, the credit of the master was considered atstake as well as their own.

Murillo soon distinguished himself in the school of Castillo; his firstcommissions from public bodies were a Madonna del Rosario, with St.Domingo, painted for the college of Santo Tomas; and a Virgin, with St.Francis and other saints, for the convent of “la Regina.” In these worksthe artist followed, in some degree, the style of Castillo. His masterhaving removed to Cadiz, the young painter remained without recommendationand without employment, and was compelled to do coarsealtar-pictures and saints for the feria, or market, which was held oncea week in the parish “Omnium Sanctorum,” and which seems to havebeen chiefly devoted to the commerce with South America. Thepaintings offered in this market, or fair, for sale, were generally thework of the most inferior artists, and the expression “pintura de feria”is still proverbially applied to pictures of the lowest class. Such wasthe rapidity with which these works were done, that it appears it wasnot uncommon for the artist to produce his saint while the purchaserwas cheapening the bargain, and the Spanish writer, whose authorityis chiefly followed in this memoir, goes so far as to say, that a SanOnofre was presently transformed to a San Cristobal, or a Virgen delCarmen to a San Antonio, or even to the representation of the Soulsin Purgatory. Better artists, however, occasionally condescended topaint such pictures, and with some augmentation of price; but eventhe worst performers were known, in some instances, to acquire suchdexterity by this work, that very little additional study in the regularschools converted them into respectable artists. This singular mode ofattaining mechanical facility must therefore be reckoned among thecauses which influenced the executive style of the Sevillian painters;and Murillo, among others, no doubt benefited by his practice in theferia.

A circ*mstance occurred about the same time which had greatinfluence on his life. His fellow-student, Pedro de Moya, who hadaccompanied the army to Flanders, conceived a great admiration forthe works of Vandyck, and went to London to study under theFlemish painter, where he soon formed a style bearing a strongresemblance to that of his master. On the death of Vandyck, Moyareturned to Seville, where he presently attracted the attention of hisformer companions by the accurate, yet powerful manner of paintingwhich he had acquired. To Murillo the style was so new, that he141determined at once to go either to Flanders or Italy, to perfect himselfin the art. It was at this moment that he felt his poverty to be aserious misfortune; but, not dismayed by difficulties, he set to workafresh for his South American and West Indian patrons, and havingsaved a small sum of money, without communicating his intentions toany one, and without even taking leave of his sister, whom he left withan uncle, he quitted Seville for Madrid, with the intention of proceedingto Italy, at the age of twenty-four. On his arrival at the capital, henaturally waited on Diego Velasquez, who was a native of Seville andhad received his professional education there; he was at this timefirst painter to the king (Philip IV.). To this distinguished artistMurillo opened his desire to visit Italy, and begged some lettersof introduction for Rome. Velasquez received him with kindness,promised him assistance, and made him most liberal offers for hisimmediate advantage. Meanwhile the desire of the young painter tosee the best specimens of the art was in a great measure gratified underthe auspices of his new friend, by his inspection of the pictures in theRoyal Palace, at Buen Retiro, and in the Escorial. He immediatelyexpressed a wish to make copies of some of these works, and whileVelasquez accompanied the King to Aragon, in the year 1642, Murillocopied some pictures by Vandyck, Spagnoleto, and Velasquez himself.These copies were shown to the King on his return by Velasquez, andwere admired by all the court. The disgrace of the minister Olivarez,in 1643, was deeply felt by Velasquez, to whom the Count Duke hadbeen a generous patron; and although it did not diminish the esteemin which the King held the painter, this circ*mstance seems first tohave disgusted Murillo with Madrid. On the return of Velasquezfrom Zaragosa, in 1644, he was astonished at the progress of hisscholar, and finding him sufficiently advanced to profit by a visit toItaly, he offered to procure for him letters of recommendation and otherassistance from the King himself. Murillo had, however, alreadydetermined to return to Seville, influenced either by domestic considerations,or by having already satisfied the wish which first urged him toleave his native city. Velasquez regretted this resolution, imaginingthat the young painter would have arrived at still greater perfection ifhe could have studied for a time in Rome.

The first works done by Murillo after his return to Seville in1645 were the pictures of the convent of San Francisco. Thebuilding was destroyed by fire in 1810, but several of the paintingsare now in the collection of Marshal Soult. In the pictures ofSan Francisco, Cean Bermudez recognises an imitation of Vandyck,142Ribera, and Velasquez, the three painters whom Murillo chiefly studiedwhile at Madrid. His new works excited general attention; so littlehad he been known before he left Seville, and so studious and retiredhad been his habits, that his absence had scarcely been noticed, andhis re-appearance with so masterly a style of painting astonished hisfellow-citizens. The fame of Herrera, Pacheco, and Zurbaran, was atonce eclipsed, and he was universally acknowledged the first painterof the Sevillian School. The obscurity in which he had lived beforehis visit to Madrid was now exchanged for the most flattering attentionsof the powerful and wealthy, and many of the chief citizens wishedto have their portraits done by him. Meanwhile he painted the Flightinto Egypt, in the church de la Merced, which has been attributedto Velasquez, and other works now no longer in Spain. In 1648, hemarried Doña Beatriz de Cabrera y Sotomayor, a lady of birth andsome fortune, a native of Pilas, from which circ*mstance, perhaps,originated the mistake of Palomino in assigning that town as the birth-placeof her husband. A change in his manner of painting, adopted,as Cean Bermudez asserts, to please the public, is observable soon afterthis period. It succeeded in pleasing all parties, for the new mannerwas extolled even by the warmest admirers of the previous performancesof the master. The works of Murillo may be divided into three distinctstyles: the first, necessarily very different from his subsequent manner,is to be sought in the specimens which date before his departure forMadrid; the second, is that which he acquired in the capital, and isexemplified by the works above-mentioned, done immediately after hisreturn; the third manner dates from about 1650, and the first publicwork which may be cited as illustrating it, is an Immaculate Conception(a subject often treated by the Spanish painters) in the convent ofSan Francisco, painted in 1652.

The latter and characteristic style of Murillo may be generallydescribed as possessing more suavity, and softer transitions of light andshade, than that of the naturalistas of his time. It is remarkable,besides, for a general harmony of hues; for considerable, but by nomeans uniform, softness of contour; for simplicity and propriety of attitudeand expression; for physiognomies, if not always distinguished bybeauty or refinement, yet interesting from a certain character of purityand goodness; for free yet well-arranged drapery; for a force of lighton the principal objects, and, above all, for surprising truth in thecolour of the flesh, heightened by an almost constant opposition of dark-greybackgrounds. The two pictures of St. Leander and St. Isidore,in the sacristy of the Cathedral, were done in 1655. In the same year143Murillo painted the Nativity of the Virgin, now in the Cathedral; andin 1656 the great picture of St. Antony of Padua, the altar-piece of theBaptistery of the same church: the picture of the Baptism of Christin the same Retablo, or architectural frame, is also by Murillo, but byno means equal to the St. Antony. The four half circles, formerly inthe church of Santa Maria la Blanca, belong to the same time, as wellas a Dolorosa, and St. John the Evangelist, done for the same church.In 1658 Murillo undertook, without any aid from the government, toestablish a public academy in Seville; and, after great difficulties,owing to the imperious temper of his rivals Juan de Valdes Leal andFrancisco de Herrera el Mozo, who was just returned from Italy, hesucceeded in his object, and the academy was opened in 1660. Murillowas the first president, but, from whatever cause, he was not re-electedto that office after the first year: the multitude of his occupations is,however, the most probable reason to be assigned for this. Althoughthe best Spanish painters, such as Velasquez, Murillo, Zurbaran, andothers, arrived at the excellence they attained without an earlyacquaintance with the antique, there being, as we have seen, no castsfrom the Greek statues in the private schools of Seville, yet, on theestablishment of a public academy, it might be supposed that it wouldhave been furnished with the best examples of form. Such, however,does not appear to have been the case: except a few drawings by theprofessors, which were copied by mere beginners, there were, it seems,no other models than the living figure and the draped mannequin; andwhen once admitted to copy from the life, the students were in thehabit of confining their practice to painting, without considering thatof drawing at all essential. This method of instruction was peculiar tothe Academy of Seville, as distinguished from other similar establishmentsin Spain; and it is evident that the object was to follow up themethod which had already been sufficient by itself to render the schoolillustrious. It may be observed that the study of drapery in thisschool had the effect, to a certain extent, of ennobling the style of thepainters; and they were perhaps led to pay attention to this branchof the art, from so often witnessing the fine effect of drapery in thedresses of the religious orders. Sir Joshua Reynolds has somewherejustly observed, that a grand cast of drapery is sometimes of itselfsufficient to give an air of dignity to a picture.

About 1668, Murillo began the celebrated series in the Hospital deSan Jorge, or de la Caridad, whence came several of the pictures nowin the possession of Marshal Soult. Among those that remain, themost remarkable and most copious compositions, are the Moses striking144the Rock, and the miracle of the Loaves and Fishes. The Prodigal Son,Abraham receiving the Angels, the Pool of Bethesda, and the Deliveranceof Peter from Prison are now in Paris; they are all excellentspecimens of the master. The Picture of San Juan de Dios bearingan infirm mendicant, is celebrated for its strength of effect, and hasbeen compared, and even attributed, to Spagnoleto. Another composition,now in Madrid, representing Santa Isabel curing the diseasedpoor, a wonderful specimen of imitation, was the greatest favourite ofthe series with the common people, when in its original place, owing,perhaps, to the very familiar and disgusting details of the subject; it wasgenerally known by the name of el Tiñoso, from the principal figure, aboy whose sore head the Saint is dressing. The habit of copying toillusion the merest accidents of nature without distinction, naturally ledthe Spanish painters to all the deformities that can be excused by theepithet “picturesque.” The details of the picture just mentioned wouldbe loathsome, even in words, yet other Sevillian painters went beyondit; and Murillo himself, on seeing a picture in which some dead bodiesare painted with repulsive reality by Juan de Valdes, in the church ofthe Caridad, observed to that artist, that “it could only be looked atwhile holding the nostrils.”

Cean Bermudez remarks of the Tiñoso, that the figure of the QueenSanta Isabel (whom by the way he makes a Queen of Portugal in oneof his works and a Queen of Hungary in another) is equal to Vandyck;the face of the boy illuminated by the reflection of a basin of water,worthy of Paul Veronese; and an old woman and a mendicant unbindinghis leg, as fine as Velasquez. He concludes by asserting,that if instead of the numbers of copies, good, bad, and indifferent, thathave been made from all the pictures of the Caridad, a series of accurateengravings after them had been executed, these compositions would beas much celebrated and admired as those of the best Italian painters.The pictures of the Caridad were finished in 1674. The CapuchinConvent is another vast gallery of the fine works of Murillo. Withoutreckoning smaller pieces, there are twenty pictures by his hand in theconvent with figures the size of life. Among these one is said to haveobtained the especial preference of the painter himself; the subject isSanto Tomas di Villanueva distributing alms. In the Nativity,Murillo has followed the artifice of Correggio, by making the lightemanate from the infant: this picture is one of the best of theseries. The Annunciation is remarkable for the beauty and dignity ofthe Angel, and for the graceful humility of the Virgin. Three pictures,done for the Hospital de los Venerables, about 1678, are mentioned by145the author already quoted as admirable performances: among themthe Penitence of St. Peter is described as surpassing the same subjectby Ribera, and an Immaculate Conception as superior in colour andadmirable management of light and shade to every similar compositionby the artist himself. In the refectory of the convent is the portrait ofDon Justino Neve, by whom Murillo was employed to paint the picturesjust mentioned; his biographer says it is in all respects equal toVandyck. The altar pictures of the Convent of San Agustin, and along list of single figures of saints, some larger than life, together withmany portraits of superiors of religious orders, scarcely complete thecatalogue of Murillo’s public works in Seville, and it would be too longto enumerate those which exist in other parts of Spain. The pictureswhich he executed for private collections were almost equally numerous,and his biographer asserts, that at the beginning of the last centurythere was scarcely a house of respectability in Seville that was notornamented with some work of his. They began to disappear whenPhilip V. and his court visited the city. Many were presented or soldto the noblemen and ambassadors who accompanied the king, andare now in galleries of Madrid and other cities of Europe. Sincethat time, however, several of the principal families have made theirpictures heir-looms, and thus guarded, as far as possible, against afurther dispersion of their countryman’s works. Murillo’s last workwas the altar-piece of the Capuchins, at Cadiz, representing theMarriage of St. Catherine. While employed on this picture he fellfrom the scaffold; and a serious malady, which was the consequence,compelled him to return to Seville, where he soon after died,April 3, 1682. He was buried in a chapel of the Church of SantaCruz. It was to this chapel he was in the habit of going tocontemplate Campana’s picture of the Descent from the Cross; andshortly before his death, being asked by the sacristan, who wanted toshut the church, why he lingered there, he answered, “I am onlywaiting till these holy men shall have taken down the Lord from theCross.” The picture of the marriage of St. Catherine was finished byFrancisco Menéses Osorio, one of the eleven scholars of Murilloenumerated by Cean Bermudez.

The short account of Murillo, in Cumberland’s “Anecdotes ofeminent Painters in Spain,” is taken from the incorrect butamusing “Parnaso Español pintoresco laureado” of Palomino.A very good general and concise history of the Spanish school(though containing several errors of the press in dates), with aninteresting list, not to be found elsewhere, of the early pictures of146Murillo, is contained in the Foreign Quarterly Review, No. 26. Thereare, probably, no other English works on the subject, except in aDictionary of Spanish Painters, not yet complete, and the incidentalnotices in books of travels. The foregoing account is chiefly takenfrom a Letter by Cean Bermudez, “Sobre el estilo y gusto en laPintura de la Escuela Sevillana, &c. Cadiz, 1806,” published subsequentlyto his “Diccionario Histórico de los mas ilustres profesoresde las Bellas Artes en España, Madrid, 1800,” which has also beenconsulted.

147

CERVANTES.

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was baptized October 9, 1547,at Alcalà de Henares, a town of New Castile, not far from Madrid.The exact date of his birth does not appear; and even the locality of ithas been disputed by several towns, as the Grecian cities contendedfor the honour due to the birth-place of Homer. Sprung from noble,but not wealthy parents, he was sent at an early age to the metropolis,to qualify himself for one or other of the only lucrative professions inSpain, the church, the law, or medicine; but his attention was divertedfrom this object by a strong propensity to writing verses. Juan Lopezde Hoyos, a teacher of some note, under whom he studied ancient andmodern literature, thought Cervantes the most promising of his pupils;and inserted an elegy, and other verses of his favourite’s composition,in an account of the funeral of Queen Isabel, wife of Philip II., publishedin 1569. These, like the greater number of Cervantes’ early poems,which are very numerous, do not rise above mediocrity; though theauthor, who was a long time in discovering that his real talent lay inprose writing, seems to have thought otherwise. He was an indefatigablereader, and used to stop before the book-stalls in the street,perusing anything that attracted his attention. In this manner he gainedthat intimate knowledge of the old literature of his country, which isdisplayed in his works; especially in the “Canto de Caliope,” the“Escrutinio de la libreria de Don Quixote,” and the “Viage alParnaso.” Thus he spent his time, reading and writing verses, seeminglyheedless of his future subsistence, until the pressure of want, andthe ill success of his poetry, drove him to quit Spain, and seek hisfortune elsewhere. He went to Rome, and entered the service ofCardinal Giulio Acquaviva; but soon after enlisted as a private in the148armament which Pope Pius V. fitted out in 1570 for the relief ofCyprus, then attacked by the Turks. In 1571 he fought in the famousbattle of Lepanto, when the combined squadrons of the Christianpowers, commanded by Don Juan of Austria, defeated and destroyedthe Ottoman fleet. On that memorable day Cervantes received agun-shot wound, which for life deprived him of the use of his left hand.Far however from repining, the generous Spaniard always expressedhis joyfulness at having purchased the honour of sharing in that victoryat that price. The wounded were landed at Messina, and Cervantesamong them. Having recovered his health, he enlisted in the troopsof Naples, then subject to the crown of Spain. In 1575, as he wasvoyaging to Spain, the vessel was taken by corsairs; and being carriedto Algiers, Cervantes became a slave to Dali Mami, an Albanianrenegade, notorious for cruelty. The high-spirited Spaniard bent allhis energies to effect an escape; and contrived to get out of the city ofAlgiers, and conceal himself in a cave by the sea-coast, near a gardenbelonging to a renegade, named Hassan, whose gardener and anotherslave were in the secret. He was there joined by several Christianprisoners; and the party remained in the cave for several months,hoping that the opportune arrival of some vessel might deliver themfrom their anxious duress. At last a ransomed captive, a native ofMajorca and friend of Cervantes, left Algiers, and returning to hiscountry, fitted out a vessel, with the intention of releasing hiscountrymen. He arrived off the coast in the night, and was on thepoint of landing near the entrance of the cave, when some Moors, whowere passing by, spied him, and raised the alarm, on which the vesselstood out again to sea. One of Hassan’s two servants next day wentto the Dey, and, in hopes of a reward, informed him that fifteenChristians were concealed in the cave. They were immediatelyseized and loaded with chains. Cervantes, who appeared the leader,was closely questioned by the Dey himself, whether he had anyaccomplices in the city. He answered steadily, that the scheme hadbeen planned and carried on by himself alone. After this examination,he was returned to his master. Nothing disheartened, he devised othermeans of escape, which likewise failed; until at last he conceived thedaring scheme of organising a general rising of the Christian slavesin Algiers, and taking forcible possession of the town. But by thecowardice of some of them, the plot was betrayed; and Cervantes wasagain seized, and carried to the prison of the Dey, who declared thathis capital and his ships were not safe “unless he kept himself aclose watch over the crippled Spaniard.” So earnest was he in this149feeling, that he even purchased Cervantes from his master, and kepthim confined in irons; but he did not otherwise ill treat the prisoner,partly, perhaps, out of respect for so brave a man, partly in the hope ofobtaining a high ransom for him. Father Haëdo, in his “Topografiade Argel,” gives an account of Cervantes’ captivity, and of the repeatedattempts which he made to escape. Meantime his widowed motherand his sister in Spain had not forgotten him, and they contrived, inthe year 1579, to raise a sum of 300 ducats, which they delivered totwo monks of the order of Trinity, or Mercy, who were proceeding toAlgiers for the ransom of slaves. In 1580 they arrived, and treatedwith the Dey for Cervantes’ ransom, which, after an extravagant sumhad been demanded, was settled at 500 golden scudi. The good fathersmade up the deficiency in the sum they had been intrusted with; andat last, in September of that year, Cervantes found himself free. Earlyin the following year he returned to Spain. Having met nothing butmisfortunes and disappointment in his endeavours to make his fortunein the world, he now determined to return to his literary pursuits. In1584 he published his “Galatea,” a pastoral novel. At the end ofthat year he married Doña Catalina Palacios de Salazar, a lady ofancient family, of the town of Esquivias. This marriage, however, doesnot seem to have much improved his fortune, for he began soon afterto write for the stage as a means of supporting himself. In the nextfive years he composed between twenty and thirty plays, which wereperformed at Madrid, and, it would seem, most of them with success.A few are still remembered, namely, “Los Tratos de Argel,” inwhich he describes the scenes of Algerine captivity; “La Destruccionde Numancia,” and “La Batalla Naval.” He ceased to write forthe stage about 1590, when Lope de Vega was rising into reputation.After this he lived several years at Seville, where he had somewealthy relatives, and where he appears to have been employed as acommercial agent. He was at Seville in 1598, at the time whenPhilip II. died. The pompous preparations for the funeral, the gorgeoushearse and pall, and the bombastic admiration of the people ofSeville at their own magnificence on the occasion, excited the graveand sober Castilian’s vein of irony, and he ridiculed the boastfulAndalusians in a sonnet which became celebrated, and which begins

He has also given an amusing account of the peculiar character, taste,and habits of the Sevillians in one of his tales, “Rinconete y Cortadillo,”150in which he describes the several classes of the inhabitants of that city,which is the second in Spain, and, in many respects, offers a strongcontrast to Madrid. It was in one of his journeys between these twocities that he resided some time in the province of La Mancha, whichhe has rendered famous by his great work. He examined attentivelyboth the country and the people; he saw the cave of Montesinos, theLagunas de Ruydera, the plain of Montiel, Puerto Lapice, theBatanas, and other places which he has described in Don Quixote.Being intrusted with some commission or warrant for recovering certainarrears of tithe due from the village of Argamasilla to the Prior ofSt. John of Consuegra, he incurred the hostility of the villagers, whodisputed his powers, and threw him into prison; and he seems tohave remained in confinement for some time, as during that period heimagined and sketched the first part of Don Quixote, as he himselfhas stated in the preface. He fixed upon this village of Argamasilla asthe native place of his hero, without however mentioning its name,“which,” he says at the beginning of the book, “I have no particularwish to remember.” After this occurrence, we find Cervantesliving with his family at Valladolid in 1604–5, while Philip III. andhis court were residing there. There is a document among therecords of the prison of that city, from which it appears that, inJune 1605, Cervantes was taken up on suspicion of being concernedin a night brawl which took place near his house, and in which a knightof Santiago was mortally wounded. The wounded man came to thehouse in which Cervantes lived, and was helped up-stairs by one of theother lodgers whom he knew, assisted by Cervantes, who had come outat the noise. The magistrate arrested several of the inmates of thehouse, which contained five different families, living in as many sets ofchambers on the different floors. From the examinations taken itappears that Cervantes, his wife and daughter, his widowed sister andher daughter, his half sister, who was a monja, or domestic nun, and afemale servant, occupied apartments on the first floor; and that Cervanteswas in the habit of being visited by several gentlemen, both oncommercial business and on account of his literary merit. Cervanteswas honourably acquitted; as the wounded man, before he died,acknowledged that he had received the fatal blow from an unknownstranger, who insolently obstructed his passage, upon which they drewtheir swords. Soon afterwards, in 1605, the first part of Don Quixoteappeared at Madrid, whither Cervantes probably removed after thecourt left Valladolid. It seems at once to have become popular; forfour editions were published in the course of the year. But it was151assailed with abuse by the fanatical admirers of tales of chivalry, byseveral dramatic and other poets unfavourably alluded to, and also bysome of the partisans of Lope de Vega, who thought that Cervanteshad not done justice to their idol.

Cervantes did not publish anything for seven years after the appearanceof the first part of Don Quixote. He seems to have spent thislong period in studious retirement at Madrid: he had by this timegiven up all expectations of court favour or patronage, which it wouldappear that he at one time entertained. Philip III., although remarkablyfond of Don Quixote, the perusal of which was one of the few thingsthat could draw a smile from his melancholy countenance, was not apatron of literature, and he thought not of inquiring after the circ*mstancesof the writer who had afforded him some moments of innocentgratification. Cervantes, however, gained two friends among thepowerful of the time, Don Pedro de Castro, Count de Lemos, andDon Bernardo de Sandoval, Archbishop of Toledo. To the first hewas introduced by his friends, the two brothers and poets Argensola,who were attached to the household and enjoyed the confidence of theCount. In 1610, when De Lemos went as Viceroy to Naples, Cervantesexpected to go with him; but he was disappointed; and he attributedhis failure to the coldness and neglect with which his application tothat effect was treated by the Argensolas. It is certain, however, thathe received from the Count de Lemos some substantial marks of favour,and among them a pension for the remainder of his life. To this noblemanCervantes dedicated the second part of his Don Quixote, and otherworks, with strong expressions of gratitude. The Spanish biographerssay also that he received assistance in money from the Archbishop ofToledo. These benefactions, added to his wife’s little property atEsquivias and the remains of his own small patrimony, kept him aboveabsolute want, though evidently in a state of penury.

In 1613 he published his “Novelas Exemplares,” or moral tales.They have always been much esteemed, both for the purity of the languageand for the descriptions of life and character which they contain.

In 1614 Cervantes published his “Viage al Parnaso,” in which hepasses in review the poets of former ages, as well as his contemporaries,and discusses their merits. While rendering justice tothe Argensolas, he alludes to the above-mentioned disappointmentwhich they had caused him. He complains of his own poverty withpoetical exaggeration, and styles himself “the Adam of poets.” Henext sold eight of his plays to the bookseller Villaroël, who printedthem; after observing, however, that Cervantes’ prose was much betterrelished by the public than his poetry, a judgment which has been152generally confirmed by critics. These plays were dedicated to theCount de Lemos, whom he tells that he was preparing to bring outDon Quixote armed and spurred once more. Cervantes had thennearly finished the second part of his immortal work; but before hehad time to send it to press, there appeared a spurious continuation ofthe Don Quixote, the author of which, apparently an Aragonese,assumed the fictitious name of Avellaneda. It was published at Tarragonatowards the end of 1614. It is very inferior in style to theoriginal, which it strives to imitate. The writer was not only guiltyof plagiarisms from the first part of Cervantes’ work, already published,but he evidently pirated several incidents from the second part, whichwas still in MS., and to which, by some means or other, he must havefound access. At the same time, he scruples not to lavish vulgar abuseon Cervantes, ridiculing him for the lameness which an honourablewound had entailed upon him, and for his other misfortunes. Thisdisgraceful production was deservedly lashed by the injured author inthe second part of Don Quixote, which was published in 1615, andreceived with universal applause. His fame now stood at the highest,and distinguished strangers arriving at Madrid were eager to be introducedto him. His pecuniary circ*mstances, however, remained at thesame low ebb as before. The Count de Lemos, who was still atNaples, appears to have been his principal friend.

In October, 1615, Cervantes felt the first attacks of dropsy. Hebore the slow progress of this oppressive disease with his usualserenity of mind; and occupied himself in preparing for the presshis last production, “Persiles y Sigismunda,” an elegant imitation ofHeliodorus’s Ethiopian story. The last action of his life was to dictatethe affecting dedication of this work to the Count de Lemos. Hedied without much struggle, April 23, 1616, in his sixty-ninthyear. It is a singular coincidence, that Spain and England shouldhave lost on the same day of the same year the peculiar glory oftheir national literature: for this was the day upon which Shakspearedied. By his will he appointed his wife and a friend as hisexecutors, and requested to be buried in the monastery of the Trinitarios,the good fathers who had released him from captivity. Afterthe custom of pious Spaniards, he had inscribed himself as a brother ofthe third order of St. Francis, and in the dress of that order he wascarried to his grave. No monument was raised to his memory. Thehouse in which he died was in the Calle (or street) de Leon, where theRoyal Asylum now stands.

Cervantes’ great work is too generally known to require criticism.It is one of those few productions which immortalize the literature and153language to which they belong. The interest excited by such a worknever dies, for it is interwoven with the very nature of man. Theparticular circ*mstances which led Cervantes to the conception of DonQuixote have long ceased to exist. Books of chivalry have been forgotten,and their influence has died away; but Quixotism, under someform or another, remains a characteristic of the human mind in allages: man is still the dupe of fictions and of his own imagination, andit is for this, that, in reading the story of the aberrations of the Knightof La Mancha, and of the mishaps that befell him in his attempt toredress all the wrongs of the world, we cannot help applying themoral of the tale to incidents that pass every day before our own eyes,and to trace similarities between Cervantes’ hero and some of ourliving acquaintances.

The contrast between the lofty, spiritual, single-minded knight, andhis credulous, simple, yet shrewd, and earth-seeking squire, is anunfailing source of amusem*nt to the reader. It has been disputedwhich of the two characters, Don Quixote or Sancho, is mostskilfully drawn, and best supported through the story. They areboth excellent, both suited to each other. The contrast also betweenthe style of the work and the object of it affords another rich veinof mirth. Cervantes’ object was to extirpate by ridicule the wholerace of turgid and servile imitators of the older chivalrous tales;which had become a real nuisance in his time, and exercised a very perniciouseffect on the minds and taste of the Spaniards. The perusalof those extravagant compositions was the chief pastime of people ofevery condition; and even clever men acknowledged that they hadwasted whole years in this unprofitable occupation, which had spoiledtheir taste and perverted their imaginations so much, that they couldnot for a long time after take up a book of real history or sciencewithout a feeling of weariness. Cervantes was well acquainted withthe nature and the effects of the disease: he had himself employedmuch time in such pursuits, and he resolved to prepare a remedy forthe public mind. That his example has been taken as a precedent byvulgar and grovelling persons, for the purpose of ridiculing all elevationof sentiment, all enthusiasm and sense of honour, forms no justground of censure on Cervantes, who waged war against that whichwas false and improbable, and not against that which is noble andnatural in the human mind. Nature and truth have their sublimity,which Cervantes understood and respected.

The best Spanish editions of Don Quixote are that of the SpanishAcademy, in four vols. 4to., 1788; the edition by Don Juan Antonio154Pellicer, with a good life of Cervantes, five vols. 8vo., 1798; and theedition by Don Martin F. de Navarrete, five vols. 8vo., 1819. Theedition published by the Rev. J. Bowle, six volumes in three, 4to.London, 1781, contains a valuable commentary, explanatory ofidioms, proverbs, &c. Of the English translations, the oldest bySkelton is still much esteemed; there are also versions by Motteux,Jarvis, and Smollet. A new translation was made for the splendidLondon edition of 1818, four vols. 4to., enriched with engravings frompictures by Smirke. Le Sage translated Don Quixote into French;but with omissions and interpolations which render this a very unfaithfulversion.

Next to Don Quixote, Cervantes’ best works are his ‘Novelas.’They have been translated into English. The language of Cervantesis pure Castilian, and is esteemed by learned Spaniards to be one ofthe best models for prose composition.

Don Agustin Garcia de Arrieta published in 1814 an ineditedcomic novel of Cervantes, styled ‘La Tia Fingida,’ or ‘TheFeigned Aunt,’ to which he added a dissertation on the spirit ofCervantes and his works. The best biographers of Cervantes arePellicer and Navarrete, already mentioned.

155

FREDERIC II.

The celebrated King of Prussia was in no respect indebted for hispersonal greatness to the virtues or example of his immediate progenitors.His grandfather Frederic I., the first of the House ofBrandenburg who assumed the title of King, was a weak and emptyprince, whose character was taken by his own wife to exemplify theidea of infinite littleness. His father, Frederic William, was a manof a violent and brutal disposition, eccentric and intemperate, whoseprincipal, and almost sole pleasure and pursuit, was the training anddaily superintendence of an army disproportionately greater than theextent of his dominions seemed to warrant. It is however to the creditof Frederic William as a ruler, that, notwithstanding this expensivetaste, his finances on the whole were well and economically administered;so that on his death he left a quiet and happy, though notwealthy country, a treasure of nine millions of crowns, amounting tomore than a year’s revenue, and a well-disciplined army of 76,000 men.Thus on his accession, Frederic II. (or as, in consequence of theambiguity of his father’s name, he is sometimes called, Frederic III.)found, ready prepared, men and money, the instruments of war; and forthis alone was he indebted to his father. He was born January 24, 1712.From Frederic William, parental tenderness was not to be expected.His treatment of his whole family, wife and children, was brutal: buthe showed a particular antipathy to his eldest son, from the age offourteen upwards, for which no reason can be assigned, except thatthe young prince manifested a taste for literature, and preferred booksand music to the routine of military exercises. From this age, hislife was embittered by continual contradiction, insult, and even personalviolence. In 1730, he endeavoured to escape by flight from156his father’s control: but this intention being revealed, he was arrested,tried as a deserter, and condemned to death by an obedient court-martial;and the sentence, to all appearance, would have been carriedinto effect, had it not been for the interference of the Emperor ofGermany, Charles VI. of Austria. The king yielded to his urgententreaties, but with much reluctance, saying, “Austria will some dayperceive what a serpent she warms in her bosom.” In 1732, Fredericprocured a remission of this ill treatment by contracting, much againsthis will, a marriage with Elizabeth Christina, a princess of the houseof Brunswick. Domestic happiness he neither sought nor found;for it appears that he never lived with his wife. Her endowments,mental and personal, were not such as to win the affections of so fastidiousa man, but her moral qualities and conduct are highly commended;and, except in the resolute avoidance of her society, herhusband through life treated her with high respect. From the time ofhis marriage to his accession, Frederic resided at Rheinsberg, a villagesome leagues north-east of Berlin. In 1734, he made his first campaignwith Prince Eugene, but without displaying, or finding opportunityto display, the military talents by which he was distinguishedin after-life. From 1732 however to 1740, his time was principallydevoted to literary amusem*nts and society. Several of his publishedworks were written during this period, and among them the ‘Anti-Machiavel’and ‘Considerations on the Character of Charles XII.:’he also devoted some portion of his time to the study of tactics. Hisfavourite companions were chiefly Frenchmen: and for French manners,language, cookery and philosophy, he displayed through life avery decided preference.

The early part of Frederic’s life gave little promise of his futureenergy as a soldier and statesman. The flute, embroidered clothes,and the composition of indifferent French verses, seemed to occupythe attention of the young dilettante. His accession to the throne,May 31, 1740, called his dormant energies at once into action. Heassumed the entire direction of government, charging himself withthose minute and daily duties which princes generally commit totheir ministers. To discharge the multiplicity of business which thusdevolved on him, he laid down strict rules for the regulation of histime and employments, to which, except when on active service, hescrupulously adhered. Until an advanced period of life he alwaysrose at four o’clock in the morning; and he bestowed but a fewminutes on his dress, in respect of which he was careless, even toslovenliness. But peaceful employments did not satisfy his active157mind. His father, content with the possession of a powerful army,had never used it as an instrument of conquest: Frederic, in thefirst year of his reign, undertook to wrest from Austria the provinceof Silesia. On that country, which, from its adjoining situation, wasa most desirable acquisition to the Prussian dominions, it appearsthat he had some hereditary claims, to the assertion of which thetime was favourable. At the death of Charles VI., in October1740, the hereditary dominions of Austria devolved on a young female,the afterwards celebrated Maria Theresa. Trusting to her weakness,Frederic at once marched an army into Silesia. The people, beingchiefly Protestants, were ill affected to their Austrian rulers, and thegreater part of the country, except the fortresses, fell without a battleinto the King of Prussia’s possession. In the following campaign,April 10, 1741, was fought the battle of Molwitz, which requiresmention, because in this engagement, the first in which he commanded,Frederic displayed neither the skill nor the courage which the wholeof his subsequent life proved him really to possess. It was saidthat he took shelter in a windmill, and this gave rise to the sarcasm,that at Molwitz the King of Prussia had covered himself with gloryand with flour. The Prussians however remained masters of thefield. In the autumn of the same year they advanced within two days’march of Vienna; and it was in this extremity of distress, that MariaTheresa made her celebrated and affecting appeal to the Diet ofHungary. A train of reverses, summed up by the decisive battle ofCzaslaw, fought May 17, 1742, in which Frederic displayed bothcourage and conduct, induced Austria to consent to the treaty ofBreslaw, concluded in the same summer, by which Silesia, with theexception of a small district, was ceded to Prussia, of which kingdomit has ever since continued to form a part.

But though Prussia for a time enjoyed peace, the state of Europeanpolitics was far from settled, and Frederic’s time was much occupiedby foreign diplomacy, as well as by the internal improvements whichalways were the favourite objects of his solicitude. The rapid rise ofPrussia was not regarded with indifference by other powers. TheAustrian government was inveterately hostile, from offended pride, aswell as from a sense of injury; Saxony took part with Austria; Russia,if not an open enemy, was always a suspicious and unfriendly neighbour;and George II. of England, the King of Prussia’s uncle, bothfeared and disliked his nephew. Under these circ*mstances, upon theformation of the triple alliance between Austria, England, and Sardinia,Frederic concluded a treaty with France and the Elector of Bavaria,158who had succeeded Charles VI. as Emperor of Germany; and anticipatedthe designs of Austria upon Silesia, by marching into Bohemiain August, 1744. During two campaigns the war was continued tothe advantage of the Prussians, who, under the command of Fredericin person, gained two signal victories with inferior numbers, at Hohenfriedbergand Soor. At the end of December, 1745, he found himselfin possession of Dresden, the capital of Saxony, and in condition todictate terms of peace to Austria and Saxony, by which Silesia wasagain recognised as part of the Prussian dominions.

Five years were thus spent in acquiring and maintaining possessionof this important province. The next ten years of Frederic II.’s lifepassed in profound peace. During this period he applied himselfdiligently and successfully to recruit his army, and renovate thedrained resources of Prussia. His habits of life were singularlyuniform. He resided chiefly at Potsdam, apportioning his time andhis employments with methodical exactness; and, by this strict attentionto method, he was enabled to exercise a minute superintendenceover every branch of government, without estranging himself fromsocial pleasures, or abandoning his literary pursuits. After the peaceof Dresden he commenced his ‘Histoire de mon Temps,’ which, inaddition to the history of his own wars in Silesia, contains a generalaccount of European politics. About the same period he wrote his‘Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg,’ the best of his historicalworks. He maintained an active correspondence with Voltaire, andothers of the most distinguished men of Europe. He established,or rather restored, the Academy of Sciences of Berlin, and was eagerto enrol eminent foreigners among its members, and to induce themto resort to his capital; and the names of Voltaire, Euler, Maupertuis,La Grange, and others of less note, testify his success. But hisavowed contempt for the German, and admiration of the French literatureand language, in which all the transactions of the Society werecarried on, gave an exotic character to the institution, and crippledthe national benefits which might have been expected to arise fromit. In 1751, after a considerable expenditure of flattery, Fredericinduced Voltaire to take up his residence at Potsdam. From this stephe anticipated much pleasure and advantage, and for a time every thingappeared to proceed according to his wishes. The social suppers inwhich he loved to indulge after the labours of the day, were enlivenedby the poet’s brilliant talents; and the poet’s gratitude for the royalfriendship and condescension was manifested in his assiduous correctionof the royal writings. For a time each was delighted with the159other; but the mutual regard which these two singular charactershad conceived was soon dissipated upon closer acquaintance, andafter many undignified quarrels, they parted in the spring of 1753in a manner discreditable to both. In the cause of education Fredericwas active, both by favouring the universities, to which hesought to secure the services of the best professors, and by the establishmentof schools wherever the circ*mstances of the neighbourhoodrendered it desirable. It is said that he sometimes founded as manyas sixty schools in a single year. This period of his reign is alsomarked by the commencement of that revision of the Prussian law (aconfused and corrupt mixture of Roman and Saxon jurisprudence)which led to the substitution of an entirely new code. In this importantbusiness the Chancellor Cocceii took the lead; but the systemestablished by him underwent considerable alterations from time totime, and at last was remodelled in 1781. For the particular meritsor imperfections of the code, the lawyers who drew it up are answerable,rather than the monarch; but the latter possesses the high honourof having proved himself, in this and other instances, sincerely desirousto assure to his subjects a pure and ready administration of justice.Sometimes this desire, joined to a certain love and habit of personalinquiry into all things, led the king to a meddling and mischievousinterference with the course of justice, as in the instance of the millerArnold, which probably is familiar to most readers; but in all caseshis intention seems to have been pure, and his conduct proves himsincere in the injunction to his judges:—“If a suit arises between meand one of my subjects, and the case is a doubtful one, you shouldalways decide against me.” If, as in the celebrated imprisonment ofBaron Trenck, he chose to perform an arbitrary action, he did itopenly, not by tampering with courts of justice: but these despoticmeasures were not frequent, and few countries have ever enjoyeda fuller practical license of speech and printing, than Prussia undera simply despotic form of government, administered by a prince naturallyof impetuous passions and stern and unforgiving temper. Thattemper, however, was kept admirably within bounds, and seldomsuffered to appear in civil affairs. His code is remarkable for theabolition of torture, and the toleration granted to all religions. Thelatter enactment, however, required no great share of liberality fromFrederic, who avowed his indifference to all religions alike. Incriminal cases he was opposed to severe punishments, and was alwaysstrongly averse to shedding blood. To his subjects, both in personand by letter, he was always accessible, and to the peasantry in particularhe displayed paternal kindness, patience, and condescension.160But, on the other hand, his military system was frightfully severe,both in its usual discipline and in its punishments. Numbers ofsoldiers deserted, or put an end to their lives, or committed crimesthat they might be given up to justice. Yet his kindness and familiarityin the field, and his fearless exposure of his own person,endeared him exceedingly to his soldiers, and many pleasing anecdotes,honourable to both parties, are preserved, especially duringthe campaigns of the Seven Years’ War.

During this peace Austria had recruited her strength, and with ither inveterate hostility to Prussia; and it became known to Fredericthat a secret agreement for the conquest and partition of his territoriesexisted between Austria, Russia, and Saxony. The circ*mstancesof the times were such that, though neither France nor England werecordially disposed towards him, it was yet open to him to negotiatean alliance with either. Frederic chose that of England; andFrance, forgetting ancient enmities, and her obvious political interest,immediately took part with Austria. The odds of force apparentlywere overwhelming; but, having made up his mind, the King ofPrussia displayed his usual promptitude. He demanded an explanationof the views of the court of Vienna, and, on receiving anunsatisfactory answer, signified that he considered it a declaration ofwar. Knowing that the court of Saxony, contrary to existing treaties,was secretly engaged in the league against him, he marched an armyinto the electorate in August, 1756, and, almost unopposed, took militarypossession of it. He thus turned the enemy’s resources againsthimself, and drew from that unfortunate country continual supplies ofmen and money, without which he could scarcely have supported theprotracted struggle which ensued, and which is celebrated under thetitle of the Seven Years’ War. The events of this war, however interestingto a military student, are singularly unfit for concise narration,and that from the very circ*mstances which displayed the King ofPrussia’s talents to most advantage. Attacked on every side, compelledto hasten from the pursuit of a beaten, to make head in someother quarter against a threatening enemy, the activity, vigilance, andindomitable resolution of Frederic must strike all those who readthese campaigns at length, and with the necessary help of maps andplans, though his profound tactical skill and readiness in emergenciesmay be fully appreciable only by the learned. But when thesecomplicated events are reduced to a bare list of marches and countermarches,victories and defeats, the spirit vanishes, and a mere caputmortuum remains. The war being necessarily defensive, Fredericcould seldom carry the seat of action into an enemy’s country. The161Prussian dominions were subject to continual ravage, and that country,as well as Saxony, paid a heavy price that the possession of Silesiamight be decided between two rival sovereigns. Upon the whole,the first campaigns were favourable to Prussia; but the confessedsuperiority of that power in respect of generals (for the King was admirablysupported by Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, Prince Henryof Prussia, Schwerin, Keith, and others) could not always countervailthe great superiority of force with which it had to contend. Thecelebrated victory won by the Prussians at Prague, May 6, 1757, wasbalanced by a severe defeat at Kolin, the result, as Frederic confesses,of his own rashness; but, at the end of autumn, he retrieved the reversesof the summer, by the brilliant victories of Rosbach, and Leuthenor Lissa. In 1758, Frederic’s contempt of his enemy lulledhim into a false security, in consequence of which he was surprisedand defeated at Hochkirchen. But the campaigns of 1759 and 1760were a succession of disasters by which Prussia was reduced to theverge of ruin; and it appears, from Frederic’s correspondence, that,in the autumn of the latter year, his reverses led him to contemplatesuicide, in preference to consenting to what he thought dishonourableterms of peace. The next campaign was bloody and indecisive; andin the following year the secession of Russia and France inducedAustria, then much exhausted, to consent to a peace, by which Silesiaand the other possessions of Frederic were secured to him as he possessedthem before the war. So that this enormous expense of bloodand treasure produced no result whatever, except that of establishingthe King of Prussia’s reputation as the first living general of Europe.Peace was signed at the castle of Hubertsburg, near Dresden, Feb.15, 1763.

The brilliant military reputation which Frederic had acquired inthis arduous contest did not tempt him to pursue the career of a conqueror.He had risked every thing to maintain possession of Silesia;but if his writings speak the real feelings of his mind, he was deeplysensible to the sufferings and evils which attend upon war. “Thestate of Prussia,” he himself says, in the ‘Histoire de mon Temps,’“can only be compared to that of a man riddled with wounds,weakened by loss of blood, and ready to sink under the weight of hismisfortunes. The nobility was exhausted, the commons ruined, numbersof villages were burnt, of towns ruined. Civil order was lost ina total anarchy: in a word, the desolation was universal.” To curethese evils Frederic applied his earnest attention; and by grants ofmoney to those towns which had suffered most; by the commencement162and continuation of various great works of public utility; byattention to agriculture; by draining marshes, and settling colonists inthe barren, or ruined portions of his country; by cherishing manufactures(though not always with a useful or judicious zeal), he succeededin repairing the exhausted population and resources of Prussia with arapidity the more wonderful, because his military establishment was atthe same time recruited and maintained at the enormous number, consideringthe size and wealth of the kingdom, of 200,000 men. One ofhis measures deserves especial notice, the emancipation of the peasantsfrom hereditary servitude. This great undertaking he commenced atan early period of his reign, by giving up his own seignorial rightsover the serfs on the crown domains: he completed it in the year1766, by an edict abolishing servitude throughout his dominions. In1765, he commenced a gradual alteration in the fiscal system of Prussia,suggested in part by the celebrated Helvetius. In the departmentof finance, though all his experiments did not succeed, he was verysuccessful. He is said, in the course of his reign, to have raisedthe annual revenue to nearly double what it had been in his father’stime, and that without increasing the pressure of the people; and fromhis last biographer, he has obtained the praise of having “arrived, asfar as any sovereign ever did, at perfection in that part of finance,which consists in the extracting as much as possible from the people,without overburthening or impoverishing them; and receiving into theroyal coffers the sums so extracted, with the least possible deductions.”

In such cares and in his literary pursuits, among which we may especiallymention his ‘History of the Seven Years War,’ passed the timeof Frederic for ten years. In 1772, he engaged in the nefariousproject for the first partition of Poland. Of the iniquity of that projectit is not necessary to speak; the universal voice of Europe hascondemned it. It does not seem, however, that the scheme originated,as has been said, with Frederic: on the contrary, it appears to havebeen conceived by Catherine II., and matured in conversations withPrince Henry, the King of Prussia’s brother, during a visit to St. Petersburg.By the treaty of partition, which was not finally arrangedtill 1777, Prussia gained a territory of no great extent, but of importancefrom its connecting Prussia Proper with the electoral dominionsof Brandenburg and Silesia, and giving a compactness to thekingdom, of which it stood greatly in need. Frederic made someamends for his conduct in this matter, by the diligence with whichhe laboured to improve his acquisition. In this, as in most circ*mstancesof internal administration, he was very successful; and the163country, ruined by war, misgovernment, and the brutal sloth of its inhabitants,soon assumed the aspect of cheerful industry.

The King of Prussia once more led an army into the field, when, onthe death of the Elector of Bavaria, childless, in 1778, Joseph II. ofAustria conceived the plan of re-annexing to his own crown, underthe plea of various antiquated feudal rights, the greater part of theBavarian territories. Stimulated quite as much by jealousy of Austria,as by a sense of the injustice of this act, Frederic stood out as theassertor of the liberties of Germany, and proceeding with the utmostpoliteness from explanation to explanation, he marched an army intoBohemia in July, 1778. The war, however, which was terminated in thefollowing spring by the peace of Teschen, was one of manœuvres, andpartial engagements; in which Frederic’s skill in strategy shone withits usual lustre, and success, on the whole, rested with the Prussians. Bythe terms of the treaty, the Bavarian dominions were secured, nearlyentire, to the rightful collateral heirs, whose several claims were settled,while certain minor stipulations were made in favour of Prussia.

A few years later, in 1785, Frederic again found occasion to opposeAustria, in defence of the integrity of the Germanic constitution.The Emperor Joseph, in prosecution of his designs on Bavaria, hadformed a contract with the reigning elector, to exchange the Austrianprovinces in the Netherlands for the Electorate. Dissenting from thisarrangement, the heir to the succession entrusted the advocacy of hisrights to Frederic, who lost no time in negotiating a confederationamong the chief powers of Germany, (known by the name of the GermanicLeague,) to support the constitution of the empire, and therights of its several princes. By this timely step Austria was compelledto forego the desired acquisition.

At this time Frederic’s constitution had begun to decay. He hadlong been a sufferer from gout, the natural consequence of indulgencein good eating and rich cookery, to which throughout his life he wasaddicted. Towards the end of the year he began to experience greatdifficulty of breathing. His complaints, aggravated by total neglectof medical advice, and an extravagant appetite, which he gratifiedby eating to excess of the most highly seasoned and unwholesomefood, terminated in a confirmed dropsy. During the latter monthsof his life he suffered grievously from this complication of disorders;and through this period he displayed remarkable patience, and considerationfor the feelings of those around him. No expression ofsuffering was allowed to pass his lips; and up to the last day of hislife he continued to discharge with punctuality those political dutieswhich he had imposed upon himself in youth and strength. Strange164to say, while he exhibited this extraordinary self-control in somerespects, he would not abstain from the most extravagant excessesin diet, though they were almost always followed by a severe aggravationof his sufferings. Up to August 15, 1786, he continued, asusual, to receive and answer all communications, and to despatch theusual routine of civil and military business. On the following day hefell into a lethargy, from which he only partially recovered. He diedin the course of the night of August 16.

The published works of the King of Prussia were collected intwenty-three volumes, 8vo. Amsterdam, 1790. We shall here mention,as completing the body of his historical works, the “Mémoiresdepuis la Paix de Hubertsbourg,” and “Mémoires de la Guerre de1778.” Among his poems, the most remarkable is the “Art de laGuerre;” but these, as happens in most cases, where the writer hasthought fit to employ a foreign language, have been little known oresteemed, since their author ceased to rivet the attention of the worldby the brilliance of his actions, and the singularity of his character.A list of Frederic’s works is given at the end of the article in the “BiographieUniverselle.” For his campaigns, see the works of Lloyd andTemplehoff, and Jomini’s “Histoire critique et militaire des Guerresde Frédéric II.” Among the numerous lives of him, we mayrefer to the “Essai sur la Vie et le Règne de Frédéric II.,” by theAbbé Denina, who had been employed in the King of Prussia’s service.Much that relates to him is to be found among the writings of Voltaire.The lives by Gillies and Lord Dover will satisfy the curiosity of theEnglish reader.

165

DELAMBRE.

The time is not yet come when a memoir of the personal life ofDelambre could be attempted with any chance of interesting thereader. The accounts which have been published from authenticsources are very meagre; and, as may be supposed, this countryis not the place in which better can be obtained. We must thereforecontent ourselves with offering a slight table of the principal events ofhis public career, and proceed to give some account of his extraordinarylabours.

Jean Baptist Joseph Delambre was born September 19, 1749, ator near Amiens. He studied under Delille at the college of Plessis,applying himself particularly to the learned languages. His accurateand ready knowledge of Greek afterwards proved an element of nomean importance in the merit of his ‘History of Astronomy.’

Though the extent of his works would give the idea of a very longlife applied to one subject in all its bearings, yet Delambre was morethan thirty years old before he turned his attention to astronomy. Itis said that he accidentally entered the room where Lalande wasdelivering a lecture on some part of that science, while either waitingfor or coming from another on the Greek language. Be that as itmay, he commenced his studies under the celebrated astronomer justnamed before 1785, in which year the calculation of the longitudesand latitudes of the stars in Mayer’s Catalogue, by Delambre, waspublished, in the ‘Connaissance des Tems’ for 1788. In 1789 hepublished Tables of Jupiter and Saturn; and in 1790 Tables of Uranus,which gained the prize of the Academy of Sciences; at the same timehe was actively engaged in correcting, by observation, the existingtables of right ascensions. In 1791 he published new Tables of166Jupiter’s Satellites, which Lalande calls “Un des plus grands travauxastronomiques qu’on ait faits.”

In 1792 Delambre aided Lalande in calculating the planetary tablesfor the third edition of his ‘Astronomy;’ and was appointed a memberof the Institute, and also of the Commission for measuring a Degreeof the Meridian. Of his share in this operation we shall presently speak.In the same year he published his first Tables of the Sun, and asecond set in 1806, together with Tables of Refraction. In 1817 heagain constructed Tables of Jupiter’s Satellites. In 1795 he wasappointed to the Bureau des Longitudes; in 1802 he was madeInspecteur Général des Etudes, in which capacity he formed theLyceums of Moulins and Lyons. In 1803 he became perpetual secretaryof the class of mathematics in the Institute, and the various élogeswhich are found in the Memoirs of that body till 1822 are from hispen. In 1807 he succeeded Lalande as Professor at the College ofFrance; in 1808 he was appointed Treasurer of the University, andin 1821, Officer of the Legion of Honour. He died August 19, 1822,at the age of seventy-three.

The dry catalogue of tables and works becomes curious and interestingwhen we consider them all as the production of one man, whowas also actively engaged either on the great Survey or in continualobservation. But the list is yet far from complete. The Historiesof Astronomy (Ancienne, Moyenne, Moderne, du dix-huitième Siècle),comprised in six volumes 4to., appeared between 1817 and 1821, withthe exception of the last, which was published in 1827, after theauthor’s death. His large work on astronomy, in three 4to. volumes,came out in 1814, and the ‘Base du Systême Métrique,’ a detailedaccount of the operations of the Survey, in four volumes 4to.(of which the first three are the work of Delambre), appeared atdifferent times between 1806 and 1810. He had previously (in 1799if we recollect rightly) published a shorter description of the methodsemployed. His decimal tables of Logarithms appeared in 1801, andhis Report on the Progress of all the Sciences since 1789 was presentedto the Emperor Napoleon in 1808, and published in 1810. Wehave still to add the numerous memoirs which he contributed to the‘Connaissance des Tems,’ the ‘Memoirs of the Institute,’ and otherperiodicals, to the list of Delambre’s labours; a list which shows thathe possessed a degree of energy rarely surpassed, and a quantity ofreading, on the subject of astronomy at least, certainly never equalled.

But though it is only justice to the memory of Delambre to insistupon the amazing quantity of work which he performed, all of the first167order of utility, in which he appears to us to stand altogether withouta rival in the history of science, we have yet to point out howmuch of that work was of a more laborious character than is usuallynecessary to produce the same number of pages. We need not dwellon the planetary tables, &c., or on the ‘Base du Systême Métrique,’almost every page of which is a separate record of toil and patience.The History of Astronomy is a work of a peculiar kind. It is notmerely a digest of ideas which the author had acquired from the perusalof the writings of others, but an actual abstract of every workwhich has exercised the least influence on the progress of the science,whether Greek, Arabian, or modern European. This task by itselfwould have been abundantly sufficient to secure to its author thereputation of a long life well spent; for he had to wade through thewritings of every age and country, and in particular to acquire aknowledge of the mathematical styles of different times, which aresufficiently distinct to render them, we might almost say, sciencesof different species. The student of astronomical history is thuswith very little trouble put in possession of all the records ofthe only science whose history is a part of itself, and must be studiedwith it. If the author sometimes appears prejudiced or hasty in hisconclusions, it must be recollected that (intentional misquotation ofcourse apart, of which he was never suspected) the plan of the workis such as to render the conclusions which a reader may draw from it,to a great degree independent of any colouring arising from the biasor misconception of the author.

The ‘History’ of Delambre was preceded by that of Bailly, a work ofsuch totally different character, that the description of it after the othermay almost seem exaggerated for the sake of contrast. With muchgeneral knowledge, and, perhaps, considerable research, but with toomuch previous self-instruction what to find, Bailly has made conjecturesof his wishes, and positive theories of his conjectures. His fancifulaccounts of people whom he has caused, as has been observed, to giveus all knowledge, except that of their own name and existence, perhapsdrove Delambre a little into the other extreme: it so, the circ*mstanceis not to be regretted; and the reader, who has amused himselfwith the former, by inventing inventors for all that has ever beeninvented, may fall back upon the latter, to learn how many of his conclusionsare founded on the rational basis of written testimony. Astrong predilection for the latter kind of evidence is the characteristicof Delambre’s writings; and if familiarity with the Greeks renderedhim somewhat prejudiced in their favour, he has but paid too much168interest for a large and acknowledged debt; whereas Bailly has squanderedhis whole substance upon creatures of his own imagination.

A very striking feature of Delambre’s writings upon the history ofastronomy, is the avidity with which he throws himself upon anycalculation which comes in his way, repulsive as such details areto writers in general. Not content with the fullest numerical expositionof the process as practised by the astronomer he is describing,he frequently adds the modern method of doing the same thing.This is one of the most useful parts of his undertaking; for astronomyis not, as so many imagine, only the art of looking at the heavens,but also of knowing what to do with the results of observation; andDelambre, in his character of an unwearied calculator, has been ofmore use than the most assiduous observer[5] of his day.

5.We are far from undervaluing the higher species of observation which, when combinedwith the sagacity of the inventor, finds new general laws. We speak only of thevulgar notion entertained of an astronomer, which, however excusable in the generalignorance of the science, portrays only a part of the character, useful indeed, but notthe most difficult.

But in the character of an observer Delambre was conspicuous. Inconducting his part of the Survey, we cannot help admiring his fortitudeas well as skill. In a letter to Lalande, written in 1797, he thusexpresses himself, and it is no exaggerated instance of the impedimentshe frequently met with: “I had about six hours’ work, and Icould not do it in less than ten days. In the morning I mounted tothe signal, which I left at sunset. The nearest inn was that at Salers,to which it took me three hours to go, and as much to return, and theroad was the worst I have met with. At last I resolved to take upmy lodging in a neighbouring cowhouse; I say neighbouring, becauseit was only at the distance of an hour’s walk. During these ten daysI could not take off my clothes; I slept upon hay, and lived on milkand cheese. All this time I could hardly ever get sight of the twoobjects at once; and during the observations, as well as in the longintervals which they left, I was alternately burned by the sun, frozenby the wind, and drenched by the rain. I passed thus ten or twelvehours every day, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather; butnothing annoyed me so much as the inaction.”

It was with extreme difficulty that permission to encounter theseinconveniences was granted. The republican government, which, inits hurry to change the weights and measures,[6] had ordered the commission,169began to fear lest a latent tinge of royalism in some one oftheir agents might infect the new standard. At least such a suspicionforces itself upon us, when we find that “The Committee ofPublic Safety, considering how important it was to the amelioration ofthe public mind that those employed by government,” in the Survey forinstance, “should be distinguished,” not by their knowledge of thetheodolite and repeating circle, but “by their republican virtues andhatred of kings,” struck Delambre and others off the list, and wouldhave served Méchain in the same way (who was on the frontier, withpublic money in his possession), had not they found within themselvesthe suspicion that he would play them false. But we must not be lessthan just to the instances of liberal feeling which the most bigotedtimes produce. When Delambre returned to Paris, he was allowed,after some hesitation, to retain the diploma of the Royal Society ofLondon, written in Latin, with the arms of the King of Englandupon it.

6.For some of our readers we may state that the object was the measurement of theearth’s circumference, or rather the deduction of it from the measurement of a part, inorder that the metre might be made an exact aliquot part of the circumference.

Such were the feelings with which the government regarded eventheir own favourite project, and we may therefore be surprised at theendurance with which Delambre solicited, and at length partiallyobtained, leave to recommence his operations; add to which, that hisastronomical instruments caused him frequently to be molested as a spyby the ignorant populace of the departments—a fact nowise to bewondered at, when we remember that at Paris Lalande’s observatorywas searched for arms, and the tube of a telescope carried off to theauthorities as some strange species of gun.

Delambre did not interfere in politics; it would have been strangeindeed if he had found time. It was amply sufficient for one man tolink his name to the science of astronomy, past, present, and future, byhistory, observations, and tables.

170

DRAKE.

Francis Drake, the first British circumnavigator of the globe, wasborn in Devonshire, of humble parents. So much is admitted: withrespect to the date of his birth, and the method of his nurture, ourannalists, Camden and Stowe, are not agreed. By the latter we aretold that Drake was born at Tavistock, about 1545, and brought upunder the care of a kinsman, the well-known navigator, Sir JohnHawkins. Camden, on the other hand, anticipates his birth by severalyears, and says that he was bound apprentice to a small shipowner onthe coast of Kent, who, dying unmarried, in reward of his industry,bestowed his bark upon him as a legacy. Both accounts agree that in1667 he went with Hawkins to the West Indies on a trading voyage,which gave its colour to the rest of his life. Their little squadron wasobliged by stress of weather to put into St. Juan de Ulloa, on the coastof Mexico; where, after being received with a show of amity, it wasbeset and attacked by a superior force, and only two vessels escaped.To make amends for his losses in this adventure, in the quaint languageof the biographer Prince, in his ‘Worthies of Devon,’ “Mr. Drake waspersuaded by the minister of his ship that he might lawfully recoverthe value of the King of Spain by reprisal, and repair his losses uponhim any where else. The case was clear in sea divinity; and few aresuch infidels as not to believe in doctrines which make for their profit.Whereupon Drake, though then a poor private man, undertook to revengehimself upon so mighty a monarch.”

Dr. Johnson, in his ‘Life of Drake,’ states, with perfect complacencyand without a word of qualification, that the bold sailor determined onan expedition, “by which the Spaniards should feel how imprudentlythey always act who injure and insult a brave man.” In his nationalzeal, the moralist seems to have forgotten that the retaliation of whichhe speaks was a lawless robbery, exercised upon the peaceable subjectsof a king with whom we were not at war, in satisfaction of a wrongin which they the sufferers had neither part nor interest, and that this171forcible levying of satisfaction, without national warrant and commission,is what in modern language we call piracy. It is fortunatefor the peace of the world that this system of “sea divinity” is goneby. But in judging of this undertaking, which the courage, constancy,and success of its contriver could not by themselves save from thestigma of piracy, we must take into account the peculiar circ*mstancesof the times. War, it is true, was not declared between Spain andEngland; but the bigotry of Philip II., his deep-rooted hatred andpersecution of the Protestant religion, and his known support of theCatholic malcontents, caused Spain to be regarded by the EnglishProtestants as their deadliest enemy; so that the plunder of SpanishAmerica might be regarded, in the language of the Puritans, merelyas a spoiling of the Egyptians; and the more because it was prettyclear, however the Queen’s prudence might delay it, that a breachmust ensue between the two nations ere long. This feeling wasstrengthened by the jealous care with which the Spaniards sought toexclude all foreigners from navigating the new-discovered seas; andthere is some justice in Elizabeth’s reply to the Spanish ambassador,when he complained of Drake’s piracies, that his countrymen, by arrogatinga right to the whole new world, and excluding thence all otherEuropean nations who should sail thither, even with a view of exercisingthe most lawful commerce, naturally tempted others to make aviolent irruption into those regions.

In the years 1570–1 Drake made two voyages to the West Indies,apparently to gain a more precise acquaintance with the seas, thesituation, strength, and wealth of the Spanish settlements. In 1572he sailed with two ships, one of seventy-five tons, the other of twenty-fivetons, their united crews mustering only seventy-three men andboys, all volunteers. His object was to capture the now ruined cityof Nombre de Dios, situated on the isthmus of Panama a few mileseast of Porto Bello, then the great repository of all the treasure conveyedfrom Mexico to Spain. Off the coast of America his littlearmament was augmented by an English bark with thirty men onboard; so that, deducting those whom it was necessary to leave incharge of the ships, his available force fell short of an hundred men.This handful of bold men attacked the town, which was unwalled, onthe night of July 22, and found their way to the market-place, wherethe captain received a severe wound. He concealed his hurt untilthe public treasury was reached, but before it could be broken open,he became faint from loss of blood, and his disheartened followersabandoned the attempt, and carried him perforce on board ship. Suchat least is the account of the English: there is a Portuguese statement172in ‘Hakluyt’s Voyages,’ vol. iii. p. 525, less favourable both tothe daring and success of the assailants.

Failing in this attempt, Drake continued for some time on the coast,visiting Carthagena and other places, and making prize of variousships; and if we wonder at his hardihood in adventuring with suchscanty means to remain for months in the midst of an awakened andinveterate enemy, how much more surprising is it that the wealthy,proud, and powerful monarchy of Spain should so neglect the care ofits most precious colonies, as to leave them unable to crush so slight afoe. The English appear to have felt perfectly at their ease; theycruised about, formed an intimate alliance with an Indian tribe, namedSymerons, the bond of union being a common hatred of the Spaniards,and built a fort on a small island of difficult access, at the mouth of ariver, where they remained from September 24, to February 3,1573. On the latter day, Drake set forth with one portion of hisassociates, under the conduct of the Symerons, to cross the isthmus. Onthe fourth day they reached a central hill, where stood a remarkable“goodly and great high tree, in which the Indians had cut and madedivers steps to ascend up neere unto the top, where they had also madea convenient bower, wherein ten or twelve men might easily sitt; andfrom thence wee might without any difficulty plainly see the AtlanticOcean, whence now wee came, and the South Atlantic (i. e. Pacific),so much desired. After our captain had ascended to this bower withthe chief Symeron, and having, as it pleased God at that time, byreason of the brize, a very faire day, had seen that sea of which he hadheard such golden reports, he besought Almighty God of his goodnessto give him life and leave to sayle once in an English ship in that sea.”We quote from a tract entitled ‘Sir Francis Drake Revived,’ writtenby some of Drake’s companions, corrected, it is said, by himself, andpublished by his nephew in 1626, which contains a full and interestingaccount of this adventurous expedition. Drake’s present object was tointercept a convoy of treasure on the way from Panama to Nombrede Dios. The route was this: eight leagues from Panama, lying inlandto the north-west, is the town of Venta Cruz, high on the river Chagre.For this distance merchandise was carried on mules, then embarkedin flat-bottomed boats, and carried down the river to its mouth, thenshipped for Nombre de Dios, or after the abandonment of that town, forPorto Bello; and this is the route by which it has often been proposedto make a canal to join the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. By this routethe treasures of Peru and Chili, as well as Mexico, were brought toEurope, for the passage round Cape Horn was then unknown, and noship but Magalhaens’ had yet accomplished the passage round the world173to Europe. Guided by the Symerons, the English approached Panama,learned that a valuable treasure was expected to pass, and besetthe lonely forest road which it had to travel. But the haste of onedrunken man gave a premature alarm, in consequence of which themarch of the caravan was stopped: and Drake with his party, theirgolden hopes being thus defeated, forced their way through Venta Cruz,and returned by a shorter route to their encampment, after a toilsomeand fruitless journey of three weeks. It was not till April 1, that thelong-desired opportunity presented itself, on which day they took acaravan of mules laden with silver, and a small quantity of gold. Theycarried off part of the spoil, and buried about fifteen tons of silver;but on returning for it, they found that it had been recovered by theSpaniards.

Drake returned to England, August 9, 1573. In dividing thetreasure he showed the strictest honour, and even generosity; yet hisshare was large enough to pay for fitting out three ships, with whichhe served as a volunteer in Ireland under the Earl of Essex, and “didexcellent service both by sea and land in the winning of divers strongforts.” In 1577, he obtained a commission from Queen Elizabeth toconduct a squadron into the South Seas. What was the purport ofthe commission we do not find: it appears from subsequent passagesthat it gave to Drake the power of life and death over his followers;but it would seem from the Queen’s hesitation in approving his proceedings,that it was not intended to authorize (at least formally) hisdepredations on Spanish property.

With five ships, the largest the Pelican of one hundred tons burden,the smallest a pinnace of fifteen tons, manned in all with only164 men, Drake sailed from Plymouth, November 15, 1577, to visitseas where no English vessel had ever sailed. Without serious loss,or adventure worthy of notice, the fleet arrived at Port St. Julian, on thecoast of Patagonia, June 20, 1578. Here the discoverer Magalhaenshad tried and executed his second in command on a charge of mutiny,and the same spot did Drake select to perform a similar tragedy.He accused the officer next to himself, Thomas Doughty, of plots todefeat the expedition and take his life; plots undertaken, he said,before they had left England. “Proofs were required and alleged,so many and so evident, that the gentleman himself, stricken withremorse, acknowledged himself to have deserved death;” and of threethings presented to him, either immediate execution, or to be set onshore on the main, or to be sent home to answer for his conduct, hechose the former; and having at his own request received the sacrament174together with Drake, and dined with him in farther token ofamity, he cheerfully laid his head on the block, according to the sentencepronounced by forty of the chiefest persons in the fleet. Suchis the account published by Drake’s nephew, in ‘The World Encompassed,’of which we shall only observe, without passing judgment onthe action, that Drake’s conduct in taking out a person whom he knewto be ill affected to him, was as singular as is the behaviour and suddenand acute penitence attributed to Doughty. But we have no accountfrom any friend of the sufferer. It is fair to state the judgment ofCamden, who says, “that the more unprejudiced men in the fleetthought Doughty had been guilty of insubordination, and that Drakein jealousy removed him as a rival. But some persons, who thoughtthey could see further than others, said that Drake had been orderedby the Earl of Leicester to take off Doughty, because he spread areport that Leicester had procured the death of the Earl of Essex.”

Having remained at Port St. Julian until August 15, they sailed forthe Straits, reached them August 20, and passed safely into the Pacific,September 6, with three ships, having taken out the men and stores,and abandoned the two smaller vessels. But there arose on the 7th adreadful storm, which dispersed the ships. The Marigold was nomore heard of, while the dispirited crew of the Elizabeth returned toEngland, being the first who ever passed back to the eastward throughMagellan’s Strait.[7] Drake’s ship was driven southwards to the 56thdegree, where he ran in among the islands of the extreme south ofAmerica. He fixes the farthest land to be near the 56th degree ofsouth latitude, and thus appears to claim the honour of having discoveredCape Horn. From September 7 to October 28, the adventurerswere buffeted by one continued and dreadful storm: and in estimatingthe merits of our intrepid seamen, it is to be considered that the seaswere utterly unknown, and feared by all, those who had tried to followin Magalhaens’ course having seldom succeeded, and then with muchpain and loss, and little fruit of their voyage; that their vessels wereof a class which is now hardly used for more than coasting service;and that the imperfection of instruments and observations laid themunder disadvantages which are now removed by the ingenuity of ourartists. Add to this, that as the Spaniards gave out that it was impossibleto repass the Straits, there remained no known way to quit thehostile shores of America, but by traversing the unexplored Pacific.

7.This is the general statement: but in the ‘Lives of Early English Navigators,’ inthe Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol. v., it is said that a Spaniard named Ladrilleroshad made the passage twenty years before.

175The storm at length ceased, and the lonely Pelican (which Drakehowever had renamed the Golden Hind) ran along the coast of Limaand Peru, reaping a golden harvest from the careless security of thosewho never thought to see an enemy on that side of the globe. Thereis something rather revolting, but very indicative of the temper of theage, in the constant reference to the guidance and protection of God,mixed with a quiet jocularity with which ‘Master Francis Fletcher,Preacher in this employment,’ from whose notes the ‘World Encompassed,’which is a narrative of this voyage, was compiled, speaks ofacts very little different from highway robbery, such as would now beheld disgraceful in open war: as, for instance, on meeting a Spaniarddriving eight lamas, each laden with 100 pounds weight of silver,“they offered their service without entreaty, and became drovers, notenduring to see a gentleman Spaniard turned carrier.” Enriched bythe most valuable spoil, jewels, gold, and silver, Drake steered to thenorthward, hoping to discover a homeward passage in that quarter.In the 48th degree of latitude he was stopped by the cold; and, determiningto traverse the Pacific, he landed, careened his ship, and, inthe Queen’s name, took possession of the country, which he namedNew Albion. September 29, 1579, he sailed again, and reached theMolucca Islands November 4. In his passage thence to the island ofCelebes, he incurred the most imminent danger of the whole voyage.The ship struck, as they were sailing before a fair wind, on a reef ofrocks, so precipitous that it was impossible to lay out an anchor toheave her off. They stuck fast in this most hazardous situation foreight hours. At the end of that time the wind shifted, and the ship,lightened of part of her guns and cargo, reeled off into deep water,without serious injury. Had the sea risen, she must have beenwrecked. This was Drake’s last mishap. He reached Plymouth inthe autumn of 1580, after near three years’ absence. Accounts differas to the exact date of his arrival.

Since Drake had for this voyage the Queen’s commission, by whichwe must suppose the license to rob the Spaniards to have been at leasttacitly conceded, he seems to have been rather hardly used in beingleft from November to April in ignorance how his bold adventure wasreceived at court. Among the people it created a great sensation, withmuch diversity of opinion: some commending it as a notable instanceof English valour and maritime skill, and a just reprisal upon theSpaniards for their faithless and cruel practices; others styling it abreach of treaties, little better than piracy, and such as it was neitherexpedient nor decent for a trading nation to encourage. During this176interval, Drake must have felt his situation unpleasant and precarious;but the Queen turned the scale in his favour by going, April 4, 1581,to dine on board his ship at Deptford, on which occasion she declaredher entire approbation of his conduct, and conferred on him the honour,and such it then was, of knighthood. His ship she ordered to be preserved,as a monument of his glory. Having fallen to decay, it was atlength broken up: a chair, made out of its planks, was presented tothe University of Oxford, and probably is still to be seen in theBodleian library. Cowley wrote a Pindaric ode upon it.

Drake had now established his reputation as the first seaman of theday; and in 1585 the Queen, having resolved on war, intrusted himwith the command of an expedition against the Spanish colonies. Heburnt or put to ransom the cities of St. Jago, near Cape Verde, St. Domingo,Carthagena, and others, and returned to England, having fullyanswered the high expectations which were entertained of him. Hewas again employed with a larger force of thirty ships in 1587, withwhich he entered the port of Cadiz, burnt 10,000 tons of shipping,which were to form part of the Armada, took the castle of Cape St.Vincent, and sailing to the Azores, made prize of a large and wealthyship on its way from the Indies. Still more eminent were his servicesagainst the Armada in the following year, in which he served as vice-admiralunder Lord Howard of Effingham. But these are well-knownpassages of history, and we have shortened our account of them, torelate at more length the early incidents of Drake’s adventurous life.

In 1589 Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris were joined in thecommand of an expedition, meant to deliver Portugal from the dominionof Spain. This failed, as many expeditions have done in whichthe sea and land services were meant to act together; and, as usual,each party threw the blame on the other. Drake’s plan appears tohave been most judicious: it was at least accordant with his character,downright and daring. He wished to sail straight for Lisbon andsurprise the place; but Norris was bent on landing at Corunna, wherehe did indeed some harm to the Spaniards, but no service towards thereal objects of the expedition. When the land-forces did at last besiegeLisbon, Drake was unwilling or unable to force his way up the Tagusto co-operate with them, and for this he was afterwards warmly blamedby Norris. He defended himself by stating that the time misspent bythe English at Corunna had been well employed by the Spaniards infortifying Lisbon; and we fully believe that neither fear nor jealousywould have made him hesitate at any thing which he thought to be forthe good of the service. This miscarriage, though for a time it cast177something of a cloud upon Drake’s fame, did not prevent his beingagain employed in 1595, when the Queen, at the suggestion of himselfand Sir John Hawkins, determined to send out another expeditionagainst Spanish America, under those two eminent navigators, theexpenses of which were in great part to be defrayed by themselves andtheir friends. Great hope was naturally conceived of this expedition,the largest which had yet been sent against that quarter, for it consistedof thirty vessels and 2500 men. The chief object was to sail toNombre de Dios, march to Panama, and there seize the treasure fromPeru. But the blow, which should have been struck immediately,was delayed by a feint on the parts of the Spaniards to invade England;the Plate fleet arrived in safety, and the Spanish colonies wereforewarned. Hawkins died, it was said of grief at the ruined prospectsof the expedition, November 12, while the fleet lay before PortoRico; and on the same evening Drake had a narrow escape from acannon ball, which carried the stool from under him as he sat atsupper and killed two of his chief officers. Repulsed from Porto Rico,the admiral steered for the Spanish main, where he burnt several towns,and among them Nombre de Dios. He then sent a strong detachmentof 750 men against Panama; but they found the capture of that cityimpracticable. Soon afterwards he fell sick of a fever, and diedJanuary 28, 1596. His death, like that of his coadjutor, is attributedto mental distress; and nothing is more probable than that disappointmentmay have made that noxious climate more deadly. Hints ofpoisoning were thrown out; but this is a surmise easily and oftenlightly made. “Thus,” says Fuller, in his Holy State, “an extemporeperformance, scarce heard to be begun before we hear it is ended,comes off with better applause, or miscarries with less disgrace, thana long-studied and openly-premeditated action. Besides, we see howgreat spirits, having mounted up to the highest pitch of performance,afterwards strain and break their credits in trying to go beyond it.We will not justify all the actions of any man, though of a tamer professionthan a sea-captain, in whom civility is often counted preciseness.For the main, we say that this our captain was a religious mantowards God, and his houses, generally speaking, churches, where hecame chaste in his life, just in his dealings, true of his word, andmerciful to those that were under him, hating nothing so much asidleness.” To these good qualities we may add that he was kind andconsiderate to his sailors, though strict in the maintenance of discipline:and liberal on fit occasions, though a strict economist. He cut a watercoursefrom Buckland Abbey to Plymouth, a distance of seven miles178in a straight line, and thirty by the windings of the conduit, to supplythe latter town with fresh water, which before was not to be procuredwithin the distance of a mile. He is honourably distinguishedfrom the atrocious race of buccaneers, to whom his example in somesort gave rise, by the humanity with which he treated his prisoners.And it should be mentioned, as a proof of his judicious benevolence,that in conjunction with Sir John Hawkins, he procured the establishmentof the Chest at Chatham, for the relief of aged or sick seamen,out of their own voluntary contributions. The faults ascribed to him areambition, inconstancy in friendship, and too much desire of popularity.

In person, Drake was low, but strongly made, “well favoured, fayre,and of a cheerefull countenance.” The scarf and jewel which hewears in our portrait (which is engraved from a picture in the possessionof Sir Trayton Drake, of Nutwell Court, near Exeter, the presentrepresentative of the family) were given him by Queen Elizabeth; theformer when he took leave of her before sailing to meet the Armada.The jewel contains a portrait of herself: these relics are still in thepossession of the family. Drake left no issue: his nephew wascreated a baronet by James I., and the title is still extant.

The collection of voyages by Hakluyt, and the accounts publishedby Drake’s nephew, quoted in this memoir, contain the fullest accountsof Drake’s adventurous history. Prince’s ‘Worthies of Devon,’ Dr.Johnson’s ‘Life of Drake,’ Kippis’s ‘Biographia Britannica,’ and the‘Edinburgh Cabinet Library,’ vol. v., all give satisfactory accounts ofthis eminent ornament of the British navy.

179

CHARLES V.

Charles V. was born at Ghent, February 24, 1500. His parentswere the Archduke Philip, son of the Emperor Maximilian, andJoanna, daughter of Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabella of Castile.To those united kingdoms Charles succeeded on the death of hisgrandfather Ferdinand, in 1516. The early part of his reign wasstormy: a Flemish regency and Flemish ministers became hateful tothe Spaniards: and their discontent broke out into civil war. TheCastilian rebels assumed the name of The Holy League, and seemedanimated by a spirit not unlike that of the English Commons under theStuarts. Spain was harassed by these internal contests until 1522, whenthey were calmed by the presence of Charles, whose prudence, and wemay hope his humanity, put an end to the rebellion. He made someexamples; but soon held his hand, with the declaration, that “toomuch blood had been spilt.” An amnesty was more effectual thanseverities, and the royal authority was strengthened, as it will seldomfail to be, by clemency. Some of his courtiers informed him of theplace where one of the ringleaders was concealed. His answer isworthy of everlasting remembrance,—“You ought to warn him that Iam here, rather than acquaint me where he is.”

Spain, the Two Sicilies, the Low Countries, and Franche Comté,belonged to Charles V. by inheritance; and by his grandfatherMaximilian’s intervention, he was elected King of the Romans:nor had he to wait long before that prince’s death, in 1519, clearedhis path to the empire. But Francis I. of France was also a candidatefor the imperial crown, with the advantage of being sixyears senior to Charles, and of having already given proof of militarytalent. The Germans, however, were jealous of their liberties; and180not unreasonably dreading the power of each competitor, rejected both.Their choice fell on Frederic, Elector of Saxony, surnamed the Wise,celebrated as the protector of Luther; but that prince declined thesplendid boon, and recommended Charles, on the plea that a powerfulemperor was required to stop the rapid progress of the Turkish arms. Itwas, however, surmised, that two thousand marks of gold, judiciouslydistributed by the Spanish ambassador, had some little influence in fixingthe votes. On his election, Charles was required to sign a capitulationfor the maintenance of the liberties and rights of the Germanic body,with a proviso against converting the empire into an heir-loom in hisfamily. From the time of Otho IV. it had been customary fornew emperors to send an embassy to Rome, giving notice of theirelection, and promising obedience to the papal court; but Charles V.thought this more honoured in the breach than the observance; norhave the pretensions of the Holy See been since strong enough torecover that long established claim. So true it is, that practicesresting on no better foundation than absurd or pernicious precedents,require only a successful example of resistance, to ensure their abolition.

The political jealousy, embittered by personal emulation, which existedbetween the Emperor and the King of France, broke out into war in1521. France, Navarre, and the Low Countries, were at times theseat of the long contest which ensued; but chiefly Italy. The duchy ofMilan had been conquered by Francis in 1515. It was again wrestedfrom the French by the Emperor in 1522. In 1523, a strong confederacywas formed against France, by the Pope, the Emperor, the Kingof England, the Archduke Ferdinand, to whom his brother Charles hadceded the German dominions of the House of Austria; the states ofMilan, Venice, and Genoa; all united against a single power. Andin addition, the celebrated Constable of Bourbon became a traitor toFrance, to gratify his revenge; brought his brilliant military talentsto the Emperor’s service; and was invested with the command of theImperial troops in Italy. To this formidable enemy Francis opposedhis weak and presumptuous favourite, the Admiral Bonnivet, who wasdriven out of Italy in 1524, the year in which the gallant Bayard losthis life, in striving to redeem his commander’s errors.

The confidence of Francis seemed to increase with his dangers, andhis faults with his confidence. He again entered the Milanese, in 1525,and retook the capital. But Bonnivet was his only counsellor; and,under such guidance, the siege of Pavia was prosecuted with inconceivablerashness, and the battle of Pavia fought without a chanceof gaining it. Francis was taken prisoner, and wrote thus to his mother,181the duch*ess of Angoulême;—“Everything is lost, except our honour.”This Spartan spirit has been much admired; but whether justly, maybe a question. From a Bayard, nothing could have been better: butthe honour of a king is not confined to fighting a battle; and thisspecimen, like the conduct of Francis in general, proves him to havebeen the mirror of knighthood, rather than of royalty.

Charles, notwithstanding his victory at Pavia, did not invade France,but, as the price of freedom, he prescribed the harshest conditions tothe captive king. At first they were rejected; but haughty spirit andconscience were at length both reconciled to the casuistry, that thefulfilment of forced promises may be eluded. Francis therefore consentedto the treaty of Madrid, made in 1526, by which it was stipulatedthat he should give up his claims in Italy and the Low Countries;surrender the duchy of Burgundy to Spain; and return into captivity,if these conditions were not fulfilled in six weeks. When once atlarge, instead of executing the treaty, he formed a league with thePope, the King of England, and the Venetians, to maintain theliberty of Italy. The Pope absolved him from his oaths, and herefused to return into Spain. This deliberate infraction of an oathsavoured neither of the mirror of knighthood, nor royalty. Nor did theEmperor appear to advantage in this transaction: his want of generositywas conspicuous in his extravagant demands, and his failure inthe higher tone of princely feeling was not compensated to himself bythe success of his politics.

In 1527, Bourbon laid siege to Rome, and was slain in the assault;but the Imperialists took and plundered the city, and are said in derisionto have proclaimed Martin Luther Pope. The Emperor’s conduct onthis occasion was not less farcical, than his hypocrisy was disgusting.On receiving news of the captivity of the head of the church, insteadof setting him at liberty, he commanded processions for his deliverance,and ultimately exacted from him a heavy ransom. Meanwhile thetreaty of Madrid was not fulfilled; and this was the cause of anotherwar between Spain, and France supported by England. The passionsof the rival monarchs were now much excited, and challenges and thelie were exchanged between them. No duel was fought, nor probablyintended; but the notoriety of the challenge went far to establish afalse point of punctilio, we will not call it honour, among gentlemen,and single combats became more frequent than in the ages of barbarism.

In 1529, the course of these calamities was suspended by the treatyof Cambray, negotiated in person by two women. The duch*ess of Angoulême,and Margaret of Austria, governess of the Low Countries,182met in that city, and settled the terms of pacification between the rivalmonarchs.

For Charles’s honourable conduct on Luther’s appearance beforethe diet of Worms, the reader may refer to the life of the Reformer inour second volume. The cause of Lutheranism gained ground at thediet of Nuremberg; and if Charles had declared in favour of theLutherans, all Germany would probably have changed its religion.As it was, the Reformation made progress during the war betweenthe Emperor and Clement VII. All that Charles acquired fromthe diet of Spire in 1526, was to wait patiently for a general council,without encouraging novelties. In 1530, he assisted in person atthe diet of Augsburg, when the Protestants (a name bestowed on theReformers in consequence of the protest entered by the Elector ofSaxony and others at the second diet of Spire) presented their confession,drawn up by Melancthon, the most moderate of Luther’s disciples.About this time Charles procured the election of his brother Ferdinandas king of the Romans, on the plea that, in his absence, the empirerequired a powerful chief to make head against the Turks. This mightbe only a pretence for family aggrandisem*nt: but the Emperor becameseriously apprehensive lest the Lutherans, if provoked, shouldabandon the cause of Christendom; and policy therefore conceded whatzeal would have refused. By a treaty concluded with the Protestantsat Nuremberg, and ratified at Ratisbon in 1531, Charles granted themliberty of conscience, till a council should be held, and annulled allsentences passed against them by the Imperial chamber: on this theyengaged to give him powerful assistance against the Turks.

In 1535, Muley Hassan, the exiled king of Tunis, implored Charles’said against the pirate Barbarossa, who had usurped his throne.The Emperor eagerly seized the opportunity of acquiring fame, by thedestruction of that pest of Spain and Italy. He carried a large army intoAfrica, defeated Barbarossa, and marched to Tunis. The city surrendered,being in no condition to resist: and while the conquerorwas deliberating what terms to grant, the soldiery sacked it, committedthe most atrocious violence, and are said to have massacred more thanthirty thousand persons. This outrage tarnished the glory of the expedition,which was entirely successful. Muley Hassan was restoredto his throne.

In 1536 a fresh dispute for the possession of the Milanese brokeout between the King of France and the Emperor. It began with anegotiation, artfully protracted by Charles, who promised the investiture,sometimes to the second, sometimes to the youngest son of his183formerly impetuous rival, whom he thus amused, while he tookmeasures to crush him by the weight of his arms. But if misfortunehad made the King of France too cautious, prosperity had inspiredCharles with a haughty presumption, which gave the semblance ofstability to every chimerical vision of pride. In 1536 he attemptedthe conquest of France by invading Provence; but his designs werefrustrated by a conduct so opposite to the national genius of the French,that it induced them to murmur against their general. Charles howeverfelt by experience the prudence of those measures, which sacrificedindividual interests to the general good, by making a desert of thewhole country. Francis marked his impotent hatred by summoningthe Emperor before parliament by the simple name of Charles ofAustria, as his vassal for the countries of Artois and Flanders. Thecharge was the infraction of the treaty of Cambray, the offence was laidas felony, to abide the judgment of the court of peers: on the expirationof the legal term, the two fiefs were decreed to be confiscated. Afresh source of hostility broke out on the death of the young Dauphinof France, who was said to have been poisoned, and the king accusedCharles V. of the crime. But there is neither proof nor probability tosupport the charge: and the accused could have no interest to committhe act imputed to him, since there were two surviving sons still leftto Francis.

But the resources even of Charles were exhausted by his great exertions:arrears were due to his troops, who mutinied everywhere,from his inability to pay them. He therefore assembled the Cortes,or states-general, of Castile, at Toledo, in 1539, stated his wants,and demanded subsidies. The clergy and nobility pleaded their ownexemption, and refused to impose new taxes on the other orders.Charles in anger dissolved the Cortes, and declared the nobles andprelates for ever excluded from that body, on the ground that men whopay no taxes have no right to a voice in the national assemblies. Toledoat that time witnessed a singular instance of power and haughtiness inthe Spanish grandees. The Emperor with his court was returning froma tournament, when one of the officers making way before him struckthe Duke d’Infantado’s horse: the proud nobleman drew his sword, andwounded the offender. Charles ordered the grand provost to arrest theduke; but the Constable of Castile compelled the provost to retire,claimed his exclusive right to judge a grandee, and took the duke,whom the other nobles rallied round, to his own house. Only onecardinal remained with the king, who had the good sense to pocketthe affront. He offered to punish the officer; but Infantado considered184the proposal as sufficient reparation, and the grandees returnedto court. But the people of Ghent made a more serious resistanceto authority, on account of a tax which infringed their privileges.They offered to transfer their allegiance to Francis, who didnot avail himself of the proposal, not from either conscientious orchivalrous scruples, but because his views were all centred in Milan:he therefore betrayed his Flemish clients to the Emperor, in hopes ofobtaining the investiture of the Italian duchy. By holding out the expectationof this boon, Charles obtained a safe-conduct for his passagethrough France into Flanders, whither he was anxious to repair withoutloss of time. His presence soon reduced the insurgents. Theinhabitants of Ghent opened their gates to him on his fortieth birthday,in 1540; and he entered his native city, in his own words, “astheir sovereign and their judge, with the sceptre and the sword.” Hepunished twenty-nine of the principal citizens with death, the townwith the forfeiture of its privileges, and the people by a heavy fine forthe building of a citadel to coerce them. He broke his word withFrancis by bestowing the Milanese on his own son, afterwards Philip II.If his duplicity be hateful, the credulity of Francis is contemptible.

Our limits will not allow of our detailing the circ*mstances of theEmperor’s calamitous expedition against Algiers; but his courage,constancy, and humanity in distress and danger, claim a sympathy forhis misfortunes, which is withheld from the selfish and wily career ofhis prosperity.

Francis devised new grounds for war, and allied himself withSweden, Denmark, and the Sultan Soliman. This is the first instanceof a confederacy with the North. But he had alienated the Protestants ofGermany by his severe measures against the Lutherans, and HenryVIII. by crossing the marriage of his son Edward with Mary of Scotland,yet in her cradle. Henry therefore leagued with the Emperor,who found it convenient to bury the injuries of Catherine of Arragonin her grave. The war was continued during the two following yearswith various success: the most remarkable events were the capture ofBoulogne by the English, and the great victory won by the French overthe Imperialists at Cerisolles, in Piedmont, in 1544. In the autumn ofthat year a treaty was concluded at Crespi, between Charles and Francis,involving the ordinary conditions of marriage and mutual renunciations,with the curious clause that both should make joint war against theTurks. In the same year the embarrassments created by the war,and the imminent danger of Hungary, increased the boldness of theGerman Protestants belonging to the league of Smalkald, and the185Emperor, while presiding at the diet of Spire, won them over byconsenting to the free exercise of their religion.

The Catholics had always demanded a council, which was convenedat Trent in 1545. The Protestants refused to acknowledgeits authority, and the Emperor no longer affected fairness towardsthem. In 1546 he joined Pope Paul III. in a league against them, bya treaty in terms contradictory to his own public protestations. Paulhimself was so imprudent as to reveal the secret, and it enabled the Protestantsto raise a formidable army in defence of their religion andliberties. But the Electors of Cologne and Brandenburg, and theElector Palatine, resolved to remain neuter. Notwithstanding thissecession, the war might have been ended at once, had the confederatesattacked Charles while he lay at Ratisbon with very few troops, insteadof wasting time by writing a manifesto, which he answered by puttingthe Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse under the banof the empire. He foresaw those divisions which soon came to pass, byMaurice of Saxony’s seizure of his cousin’s electorate.

Delivered by the death of Francis in 1547, in which year Henry VIII.also died, from the watchful supervision of a jealous and powerful rival,and relieved from the fear of the Turks by a five years truce, Charleswas at liberty to bend his whole strength against the revoltedprinces of Germany. He marched against the Elector Frederic ofSaxony, who was defeated at Mulhausen, taken prisoner, and condemnedto death by a court-martial composed of Italians and Spaniards,in contempt of the laws of the empire. The sentence was communicatedto the prisoner while playing at chess: his firmness wasnot shaken, and he tranquilly said, “I shall die without reluctance,if my death will save the honour of my family and the inheritanceof my children.” He then finished his game. But his wife andfamily could not look at his death so calmly: at their entreaty hesurrendered his electorate into the Emperor’s hands. The otherchief of the Protestant league, the Landgrave of Hesse, was also forcedto submit, and detained in captivity, contrary to the pledged word ofthe Emperor; who, fearless of any further resistance to his supremeauthority, convoked a diet at Augsburg in 1548. At that assemblyMaurice was invested with Saxony: and the Emperor, in the vain hopeof enforcing a uniformity of religious practice, published by his ownauthority a body of doctrine called the “Interim,” to be in force tilla general council should be assembled. The divines by whom that“Interim” was composed, had inserted the fundamentals of Catholicdoctrine, and preserved the ancient form of worship; but they allowedthe communion in both kinds, and permitted married priests to perform186sacerdotal functions. This necessarily was unsatisfactory to bothparties; but its observance was enforced by a master, with whom terrorwas the engine of obedience.

These measures, however, did not preserve tranquillity long in Germany.Maurice of Saxony and the Elector of Brandenburg urged thedeliverance of the Landgrave of Hesse, as having made themselvessureties against violence to his person. Charles answered by absolvingthem from their pledges. The Protestants of course charged him asarrogating the same spiritual authority with the popes. And Maurice,offended at the slight put upon him, directed his artful policy to thehumiliation of Charles. He had compelled his subjects to conform tothe Interim by the help of the timid Melancthon, who was no longer supportedby the firmness of Luther. On the other hand, he had silencedthe clamours of the more sturdy by a public avowal of his zeal for theReformation. In the meantime, the diet of Augsburg, completely at theEmperor’s devotion, had named him general of the war against Magdeburg,which had been placed under the ban of the empire for oppositionto the Interim. He took that Lutheran city, but by private assurancesregained the good will of the inhabitants. He also engaged in a leaguewith France, but still wore the mask. He even deceived the ableGranville, Bishop of Arras, afterwards cardinal, who boasted that“a drunken German could never impose on him;” yet was he of allothers most imposed on. At last, in 1552, Maurice declared himself,and Henry II. published a manifesto, assuming the title of “Protectorof the liberties of Germany and its captive princes.” He began withthe conquest of the three bishoprics of Toul, Baden, and Metz. Inconjunction with Maurice he laid a plan for surprising Charles atInspruck, and getting possession of his person; and the daring attempthad almost succeeded. Charles was forced to escape by night duringa storm, in a paroxysm of gout, and was carried across the Alps in alitter. In the subsequent conferences at Passau, the deliverance ofthe Landgrave of Hesse, the abolition of the Interim, and the assemblingof a diet within six months, to end all religious differences,were the conditions imposed upon the Emperor. In the meantime,liberty of conscience was to be enjoyed in the fullest manner, andProtestants were made admissible into the imperial chamber. Theexamination of grievances affecting the liberties of the empire was tobe referred to the approaching diet; and if the ecclesiastical disputeswere not then adjusted, the treaty now concluded was to remain inperpetual force. These disputes were adjusted, in 1555, at the dietof Augsburg, by the solemn grant of entire freedom of worshipto the Protestants. The King of France was abandoned by his allies,187and scarcely named in the treaty. Dr. Robertson’s remark on thisis worth quoting: “Henry experienced the same treatment which everyprince who lends his aid to the authors of a civil war may expect. Assoon as the rage of faction began to subside and any prospect ofaccommodation to open, his services were forgotten, and his associatesmade a merit with their sovereign of the ingratitude with which theyabandoned their protector.” Henry resolved to defend his acquisitionof the three bishoprics, and Charles to employ his whole force for theirrecovery. The Duke of Guise made adequate preparations for thedefence of Metz, the siege of which the Emperor was compelled toraise, after sixty-five days spent in fruitless efforts, with the loss of30,000 men by skirmishes and battles, and by diseases incident to theseverity of the season. “I perceive,” said he, “that Fortune, likeother females, forsakes old men, to lavish her favours on the young.”This sentiment probably sunk deeper into his reflections, than mightbe inferred from the sarcastic terms in which it was clothed: for in theyear 1556, after various events of war, alternately calamitous to thesubjects of both nations, he astonished Europe by his abdication infavour of his son. In an assembly of the states at Brussels, headdressed Philip in a speech which melted the audience into tears.The concluding passage, as given by Robertson, is worth transcribing,to show how much easier it is to utter the suggestions of wisdom andvirtue than to act up to them, and how much an experienced observerof human character may be misled to gratuitous assumptions by parentalaffection. “Preserve an inviolable regard for religion; maintain theCatholic faith in its purity; let the laws of your country be sacred inyour eyes; encroach not on the rights and privileges of your people;and if the time should ever come when you shall wish to enjoy thetranquillity of private life, may you have a son endowed with suchqualities that you can resign your sceptre to him with as much satisfactionas I give up mine to you!” Charles retired into a monastery,where he died, after more than two years passed in deep melancholy,and in practices of devotion inconsistent with sound intellect, whenonly between fifty-eight and fifty-nine years of age. His activity andtalents had been the theme of universal admiration: the ardour of hisambitious policy had been extreme, and his knowledge of mankindprofound: but he should have followed up the objects of his highaspiring by a straighter road. His glory would have been trulyenviable had he devoted his efforts to the happiness of his subjects,instead of harassing their minds by dissensions, and mowing downtheir lives by hundreds of thousands in war.

188To the statesman or the politician the history of this period isan inexhaustible fund of instruction and interest, and to the generalreader it is rendered more than usually attractive by the almostdramatic contrast of character among the principal actors in the scene.Francis seems to have been the representative of the expiring schoolof chivalry; Charles was not the representative, but the founder ofthe modern system of state policy: Henry was the representative ofostentation, violence, and selfishness, to be found in all ages.

We are absolved from the necessity of dilating on the state of thefine arts at this era of their glory, by referring the reader to the livesof the artists of the time scattered through our volumes. The life ofTitian affords the most ample evidence of Charles’s personal taste, andfeeling of painting; and his warm and generous friendship for thatgreat artist is at once a proof of his discernment, and perhaps the mostattractive feature in his character.

It is scarcely necessary to name Robertson as the modern historianof Charles, and his work is the best direction to original authorities.Sismondi may also be consulted.

189

DES CARTES.

The space which we can devote to this biography would be utterlyinsufficient to give the smallest account of the varied philosophicallabours of its subject; still less to recount their consequences. Weshall therefore confine ourselves almost entirely to his personal life;the more so, as the private history of Des Cartes is not so well knownto the world in general, as is the history of the mathematician, the optician,the natural philosopher, the metaphysician, the anatomist, themusician, &c., to those who study these several sciences.

René Des Cartes[8] du Perron (the latter name being derived from alordship inherited from his mother, by which he was distinguished fromhis elder brother) was born at La Haye, in Touraine, March 31, 1596.From his mother, who died shortly after, he inherited a feeble constitution.His father, Joachim Des Cartes, had served in the civil wars,and was of a noble family, of which, says Baillet, neither origin couldbe traced, nor mésalliance while it lasted.

8.The life of Des Cartes has been written with great minuteness by M. Bailletauthor of the ‘Jugemens des Savans,’ &c., in two vols. 4to., Paris, 1690; abridged,Paris, 1693; translated into English the same year. This appears to have been thesource from which all accounts have been derived.

His early inclination for study induced his father to send him to theCollege of La Flèche when he was only eight years old. We havethe accounts of extraordinary progress which are usually related ofmen after they have become distinguished; but what is not so common,we find that he was allowed to keep his bed in the morning as longas he pleased, partly from the weakness of his health, and partlybecause he was observed to be of a meditative turn. We mention190this because it afterwards became his usual habit to study in bed;and certainly some parts of his philosophy bear the marks of it.

He left La Flèche in eight years and a half, with great reputation,and a disgust for all books and methods then in use. He was sent toParis at the age of seventeen, under the care of a servant, and fell intothe fashionable vice of gambling; but at the same time he cultivatedthe acquaintance of Mydorge[9] and Mersenne. He finally becamedisgusted with his favourite pursuit, hired a solitary house in theFauxbourg St. Germain, and resumed his studies.

9.To explain in the briefest terms who these and other friends of Des Cartes were,would make us exceed the prescribed bounds. Our reader must be content to bereferred to a biographical dictionary for these and others not known, except to mathematicians.

At the age of twenty-one, he enlisted as a volunteer under thePrince of Orange. At Breda, the solution of a problem introducedhim to Beekman. Here he wrote his ‘Treatise on Music,’ of whichthe latter (to whom it had been entrusted) gave himself out as theauthor. In 1619, he enlisted as a volunteer under the Duke of Bavaria;and while thus engaged, he tells us he laid the foundations ofhis philosophy (November 10); after three wonderful dreams. Quittingthe service he was engaged in, after having been present at the siegeof Prague, he travelled till the end of 1619. He then returned toParis, where it was believed he was a Rosicrucian, and his continualpresence in public was necessary to repel the suspicion. At this timehe appears to have laid the foundation of his mathematical methods.After travelling into Italy, he settled again at Paris, and we now findhim in habits of friendship with Beaune (afterwards his commentator),Morin, Frenicle, and others, and occupying himself with practicaloptics. In 1628, he served at the siege of Rochelle.

To avoid society, in 1629, he migrated to Holland, where he passedtwenty years. He removed from town to town, hiding his actualresidence from all but one or two friends. He occupied himself atfirst with his optics, and with the considerations which led him, in a fewyears, to publish his ‘Treatise on Meteors,’ as also with chemistryand anatomy. We now find him in communication with Reneri andGassendi. He made a short voyage to England, of which nothingis recorded, except some magnetic observations made near London.About 1633, his philosophical opinions were first taught by Reneri, atDeventer. His ‘Treatise on the World,’ written about this time,was suppressed by him when he heard what had happened to Galileo191in Italy; and except some meteorological observations, we find nothingto notice till 1637, when he published his ‘Principles of Philosophy,’in which the well-known hypothesis of vortices is propounded,together with his dioptrical and meteorological theories. This publicationwas immediately combated in different parts by Roberval,Fromondus, Plempius, Fermat, the elder Pascal, and others. Withoutgoing into these and other now uninteresting disputes, it is only necessaryto state, that Fermat, Pascal, Roberval, and several others,were soon after in friendly communication with Des Cartes. After thefamous problem of the Cycloid, which was propounded about this time(1638–39), Des Cartes, as he had several times done before, renouncedgeometry; and his work bearing that title (but which is, in fact, hiscelebrated application of algebra to geometry) was not published byhimself, but by his friend De Beaune, who wrote a comment on it athis desire.

In the meantime, his philosophy was fast rising into repute inHolland, where, in 1639, a public panegyric was made upon it atUtrecht, on the death of Reneri. We pass over the various disputesupon it, both at Utrecht and Paris. In 1640, Des Cartes was nearlyinduced to take up his residence in England, under the protection ofCharles I.: but the domestic troubles, which within two years brokeout into civil war, interfered with the completion of this arrangement.His father died at the end of the same year; in which he also losta child named Francina, whom he owned as his daughter, but concerningwhose parentage, whether it were legitimate or not, nothingcertain is known. Des Cartes was attacked at this time by the Jesuitsin France, and by a party in Holland, which asserted that he himselfwas a Jesuit. The hostility of his Dutch opponents did not materiallyretard the progress of his opinions, nor could the Jesuitsprevent his receiving a flattering invitation from Louis XIII. to returnto France.

In 1641, appeared his Meditations De Primâ Philosophiâ, on theSoul, on Freewill, and on the Existence of a Creator. Various partsof this treatise were criticised by Hobbes, Gassendi, and some others;but so much was the reputation of Des Cartes increased in France, thatthe exertions of Mersenne, made by the desire of the author, could notobtain more than one opponent to this work out of all the Sorbonne.This was the afterwards celebrated Arnaud, between whom andDes Cartes a friendly controversy was maintained. But in Holland,the active enmity of Voet, the rector of the university of Utrecht, andothers, raised a clamour against Regius, who publicly taught Cartesian192doctrines at Utrecht. Des Cartes himself, averse to controversy, wrotestrongly to his pupil not to deny or reject any thing commonly admitted,but merely to assert that it was not necessary to the properconception of the doctrine taught. But Voet, not content with writingbooks, instituted an unworthy course of clandestine persecution againstDes Cartes, by which, in 1642, he obtained the condemnation of the‘Meditations’ by the magistracy of Utrecht, and gave the authorsome personal trouble and anxiety. On the other hand, the newphilosophy at this time made great progress among the Jesuits, itsformer opponents. In the middle of the year Des Cartes returnedto France, and superintended a new edition of his Principles ofPhilosophy. But in the following year he went again to Holland,where some decisions in his favour, in matters of alleged libel, thetoo virulent enmity of Voet, the public teaching of Cartesian doctrinesat Leyden by Heereboord, and other things of the same kind,made his reputation gain ground rapidly. About 1647, we find himclear of violent opposition, and actively engaged in the disseminationof various opinions by personal correspondence. He returned again toFrance, where a pension of 3000 livres was obtained for him: but heis said never to have received any part of it. He came back to Holland,but next year was recalled to France by the promise of anotherpension, which turned out to be fallacious. He once more returned toHolland, which he left the same year, to fix his residence in Sweden, atthe desire of the queen Christina, with whom he had been some time incorrespondence. He arrived at Stockholm in September, and whileengaged in projecting an Academy of Sciences, at the desire of thequeen, was seized with an inflammation of the lungs, which carried himoff, February 11, 1650, at the age of 54. His body, seventeen yearsafter, was removed to the church of St. Geneviève at Paris.

Des Cartes was under the middle size, and well proportioned, exceptthat his head was rather too big for his body. His voice, owingto an hereditary weakness of the lungs, was unable to sustain any longconversation. He was very temperate, slept a good deal, and, asbefore noticed, wrote and thought much in bed. He was very particularin choosing his servants, engaging none but such as were bothwell-looking and intellectual; and several of his attendants afterwardsrose in the world. Baillet mentions a physician, a Regius professor,a mathematician, and a judge, who had served Des Cartes in differentcapacities. He inherited from his mother an income of about 6000livres a year. His expenses in experimenting were considerable, buthe never would accept the offered assistance of his friends. He read193little, and had few books. We have already noticed the obscureconnection from which his daughter Francina derived her birth: healso paid his addresses to a lady, for whom he fought a duel with arival. With these exceptions, he seems to have been insensible tofemale influence. He told the last-mentioned lady, somewhat bluntly,that he found nothing so beautiful as truth. He was a devout Catholic,and writers of that persuasion think that his doctrines were morefavourable to them than those of Aristotle.

His character as a philosopher is that of extraordinary power ofimagination, which frequently carried him beyond all firm foundations.His ingenuity is very great; and had he been contemporary withNewton and Leibnitz, he might have been a third inventor of fluxions.Father Castel says of him, that he built high, and Newton[10] deep; thathe had an ambition to create a world, and Newton none whatever.It is usual to compare these two great men; but we do not think themproper objects of comparison. Des Cartes lived at a time whenthe power of mathematical analysis was but small, compared withwhat he himself, Wallis, Newton, and others afterwards made it. Hepursued his studies before Stevinus and Galileo had yet made the firstadditions to the mathematical mechanics of Archimedes. It is not,therefore, with Newton that he ought to be tried, but with thosephilosophers of his own age, who were in the same position with himself,and wrote upon similar subjects with similar methods. Andhere if we had room we could easily show, that, for variety of power,and comparative soundness of thinking, he was above all his contemporaries,and well deserves his fame.

10.The good Father first transcribed Newton, then read him twenty times, then wrotehis comparison of the two, and kept it twenty years; and finally, decided that DesCartes was the better philosopher, for the reasons given in the text. Nous avonschangé tout cela.

It were much to be wished that his writings were better known inthis country, particularly by those who represent him as nothing but awild schemer, because they hold the system of Newton. It is a sortof article of faith in many popular English works on astronomy, thatDes Cartes was a fool. To any one who has imbibed that opinion, werecommend the perusal of some of his writings.

194

SPENSER.

The materials for the personal history of Edmund Spenser[11] are veryscanty; and it may not be amiss to warn the reader of what he willfind exemplified in the present article, that early biography, with anypretension to authenticity, must partake nearly as much of a negativeas of a positive character.

11.Our engraving is from a copy of the picture in the possession of the Earl of Kinnoull,which was made some years since by Mr. Uwins.

As to the year of Spenser’s birth, we are thrown for any thing likeadmissible evidence on the date of his matriculation at Pembroke Hall,Cambridge, in 1569, which, according to the usual age of admissionin those days, would place his birth about 1553. The monumenterected to him by the Countess of Dorset, afterwards of Pembroke andMontgomery, places his birth in 1510, and his death in 1596. Thismonument, having been erected only thirty years after the poet’s death,might have been expected not to be very inaccurate as to dates; butit* authority is completely put down by the college entry. It is altogetherat variance with university practice at any period, that a manshould be matriculated at the age of fifty-nine, for the purpose ofpassing through his seven years in statu pupillari, and proceeding tothe degree of M.A. at the ripe age of sixty-six. Neither do any factson record give countenance to the supposition that the poet lived tothe advanced age of eighty-six.

The parentage of Spenser is supposed to have been obscure: theonly information he has given us on that point is confined to the unimportantfact, that his mother’s name was Elizabeth. But althoughhis silence respecting his parents, and his entering the university as asizar, give reason to suppose that his nearest connexions had falleninto humble life, his claim of alliance with “an house of ancientfame” indicated that his blood was not altogether plebeian. Thededications of his ‘Muiopotmos’ to Lady Carey, of his ‘Tears of theMuses’ to Lady Strange, and of ‘Mother Hubbard’s Tale’ to the

195Lady Compton and Mounteagle, express affection and bounden duty,on the score of kindred, to the house whence those ladies sprang, whowere three sisters, and daughters of Sir John Spencer of Althorpe.

Spenser took the degree of Bachelor in 1572, and that of Master ofArts in 1576, in which year it is said that he was an unsuccessfulcompetitor for a fellowship; but Mr. Church, student of Christ Churchin Oxford, who has been more minute in his inquiries than Spenser’sother biographers, thinks that the story has no foundation. It isagreed on all hands that Sir Philip Sidney was the person who drewthe poet from obscurity, and introduced him at court. On this subjectwe are told that Spenser sent a copy of the ninth canto of the first bookof the ‘Faery Queene’ to Leicester House; and that Sidney was sotransported at the discovery of such astonishing genius, as, after havingread a stanza or two, to order his steward to give the author fiftypounds: after the next stanza the sum was doubled. The stewardwas not so enthusiastic as his master, and therefore in no hurry tomake the disbursem*nt; but one stanza more raised the gratuity totwo hundred pounds, with a command of immediate payment, lest afurther perusal should tempt the gallant knight to give away his wholeestate. The obvious drift of this story is to magnify the genius of itssubject; but it is rather hard on Sir Philip, that a reputation fullycapable of standing by itself should have been unnecessarily proppedat the expense of his character for common sense. The plain fact is,that the celebrated Gabriel Harvey, Spenser’s college friend, introducedhim to Sidney; that he wrote part of his ‘Shepherd’s Calendar’at Penshurst, and under the modest name of Immerito, inscribed it tohis patron. The general strain of this poem is serious and pensive,but with occasional bursts of amorous complaint. Without the latterit was considered that there could be no pastoral poetry; but in thisinstance the wailings are thought not to have been altogether fictitious.The name of Rosalinde is said to have shadowed forth a mistress whohad deserted him, as that of Colin Clout both there and elsewhere denotedhimself. Sidney lost no time in introducing his new friend to theEarl of Leicester, and finally to Queen Elizabeth. On his presentingsome poems to her, the Queen ordered him a gratuity of a hundredpounds. Lord Treasurer Burleigh, better qualified to appreciate theuseful than the ornamental, said, “What! all this for a song?” TheQueen in anger repeated the order; and the minister from that timebecame the personal enemy of the poet, who alludes to this misfortunein several parts of his works.

The Earl of Leicester seems to have undertaken to provide for Spenserby sending him abroad. A letter to Gabriel Harvey from Leicester House196fixes this to the year 1579; but either there is a mistake in the date,or the scheme must have been abandoned; for in 1580 he was appointedsecretary to Arthur Lord Grey of Wilton, who was sent as lord-deputyto Ireland. While in that country he wrote his ‘Discourse on theState of Ireland,’ a judicious treatise on the policy then best suited tothe condition of that country. His services were rewarded with agrant of 3028 acres in the county of Cork, out of the forfeited lands ofGerald Fitz Gerald Earl of Desmond. Spenser’s residence was atthe castle of Kilcolman, near Doneraile. The river Mulla, which hehas more than once introduced into his poems, ran through his grounds.Here he contracted an intimacy with Sir Walter Raleigh, who wasthen a captain under Lord Grey. ‘Colin Clout’s come Home again,’in which Sir Walter is described as the Shepherd of the Ocean, is abeautiful memorial of this friendship, founded on a similarity of tastefor the polite arts, and described with equal delicacy and strength offeeling. The author acknowledges services at court rendered to himby Raleigh; probably the confirmation of the grant of land, which heobtained in 1586. The friends returned to England together, andSpenser wished to have obtained a settlement at home, rather than tohave continued in a country at that time little better than barbarous.To mortifications, and ultimate disappointment in his attendance atcourt, we probably owe the well-known lines in ‘Mother Hubbard’sTale.’ If his forced return to Ireland was the cause of his writingthe ‘Faery Queene,’ his country was benefited, and his fame immeasurablyenhanced by the disappointment of his wishes. On the publicationof the first three books the Queen rewarded him with a pensionof fifty pounds a year; and in him the office of Laureate may be consideredto have commenced, although not conferred under that title.

Spenser’s marriage is placed by most biographers in 1593; byMr. Church in 1596: the year of his death, if we could rest our faithin the monument. All we know of the lady is, that her Christianname was Elizabeth: a name, he says in his 74th sonnet, which hasgiven him three graces, in his mother, his queen, and his mistress.In his ‘Epithalamion’ he says,

197He probably dwells the more on this latter circ*mstance, becausethe Queen’s hair was yellow. But even if the marriage took place in1593, his term of domestic happiness was very short. In the Earl ofTyrone’s rebellion, in 1598, he was plundered and deprived of hisestate. No direct or authentic account of the circ*mstances attendingthis calamity has come down to us; but among the heads of a conversationbetween Ben Jonson and Drummond at Hawthornden, givenin the works of the latter, Jonson, after saying that neither Spenser’sstanzas pleased him, nor his matter, is stated to have given the followingappalling description of his misfortune: that “his goods were robbedby the Irish, and his house and a little child burnt: he and his wifeescaped, and after died for want of bread in King Street, Westminster.”Jonson however adds a circ*mstance, the strangeness of which throwssuspicion over the former part of the story: “He refused twenty piecessent him by my Lord Essex, and said he was sure he had no time tospend them.” But whether these particulars be true or not, it iscertain that he died in London, ruined, and a victim to despair,according to Camden, in 1598, but according to Sir James Ware,who wrote the preface to the ‘View of the State of Ireland,’ in 1599.Sir James, after having given a high character of his poetry, says,“With a fate peculiar to poets, Spenser lived in a continual strugglewith poverty: he was driven away from his house and plundered bythe rebels: soon after his return in penury to England he died. Hewas buried in Westminster Abbey near Chaucer, at the expense of theEarl of Essex; the poets of the time, who attended his funeral, threwverses into his grave.” In order to account for the inaccuracy of thedates on the monument, it is alleged that the inscription had beendefaced, perhaps by the Puritans in revenge for the descriptions of theBlatant Beast; and that on its renewal, the carver (the year of birthbeing illegible) put ten at a venture, and ninety-six instead of ninety-eightor ninety-nine.

Respecting Spenser’s private character, conversation and manners,his contemporaries leave us nearly in the dark. We know that Burleighwas his enemy, that Sidney and Raleigh were his friends: and from thedignity of sentiment and moral tendency prevailing throughout his works,we may reasonably infer that his virtue was not unworthy of his genius.Milton speaks of him as “our sage and serious poet, whom I dare beknown to think a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas.” ‘TheShepherd’s Calendar,’ the first of Spenser’s works in print, is generallysaid to have come out in 1579. It is a series of pastorals, formed onno uniform plan, but lowered to the standard supposed to be appropriate198to that style of composition. But the rustic language of thesepieces renders them so utterly untunable to a modern ear, that whatobtained the applause of Sidney would not have saved the author’sname from oblivion, had it not been borne up to imperishable fame bythe splendour of the ‘Faery Queene,’ the three first books of whichwere published in 1590. Six years afterwards three other books cameout; and after his death two other cantos, and the beginning of a third.The poem, therefore, exists as a fragment: there is a traditionarystory that he had completed his design in twelve books, as was hisavowed intention; but that the last six books were lost by a servantwho had the charge of bringing them over to England. Yet, unfinishedas the poem is, any one canto has merit and beauties enough to havesecured its author’s fame. In 1591 a quarto volume was published, containingthe following nine pieces:—‘The Ruines of Time;’ ‘The Tearsof the Muses;’ ‘Virgil’s Gnat;’ ‘Mother Hubbard’s Tale;’ ‘Ruinesof Rome;’ ‘Muiopotmos;’ ‘Visions of the World’s Vanitie;’ ‘Bellay’sVisions;’ ‘Petrarche’s Visions.’ ‘Daphnaida,’ published in 1592,was dedicated to the Marchioness of Northampton, on the death of herniece, Douglas Howard. The pastoral elegy of ‘Astrophel’ wasdevoted wholly to the memory of Sir Philip Sidney, and inscribed toLady Essex. To enter on the subject of his Sonnets, &c. &c. wouldcarry us far beyond our prescribed limits.

In a letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, Spenser sets forth the generaldesign of the ‘Faery Queene,’ and settles the scheme of the whole twelvebooks. But the following passage proves that he contemplated twelvemore. “I labour to pourtraict in Arthur, before he was king, the imageof a brave knight, perfected in the twelve Moral Vertues, as Aristotledevised, the which is the purport of these first twelve books: which ifI find to be well accepted, I may perhaps be encouraged to frame theother part of Politic Vertues in his person, after that he came to be king.”He also says, “In the person of Prince Arthur I set forth Magnificencein particular.” By magnificence Dryden understands him to meanmagnanimity, in succouring the representatives of the particular moralvirtues when in distress, and considers his interposition in each legendas the only bond of uniformity in a design, which in all other respectsinsulates his allegorical heroes, without subordination or preference.This plan gave him much opportunity of drawing flattering portraits ofindividual courtiers, though few of the likenesses have been recognized,and the originals seem to have shown but little gratitude for the compliment.It is generally allowed that Prince Arthur was meant forSir Philip Sidney, who was the poet’s chief patron. The prevailing199beauty of this great poem consists in its vein of fabulous invention, setoff by a power of description and force of imagination, so various andinexhaustible, that the reader is too much pleased and distracted to besensible of the faults into which his judgment is betrayed by occasionalexcess. It is remarked by Sir William Temple, in his ‘Essay onPoetry,’ that “the religion of the Gentiles had been woven into thecontexture of all the ancient poetry with an agreeable mixture, whichmade the moderns affect to give that of Christianity a place in theirpoems; but the true religion was not found to become fictions so wellas the false one had done, and all their attempts of this kind seemedrather to debase religion than heighten poetry.” Critics in general,and common sense itself, have confirmed Temple’s remark as to thehazard, which it required such a mind as Milton’s successfully to face,of giving a poetical colouring to the solemn truths of religion. To afeeling of this difficulty we probably owe the peculiarity of Spenser’sepic, if so it may be called. In other epics, instruction is subordinateto story, and conveyed through it; in the ‘Faery Queene,’ morality isthe avowed object, to be illustrated by the actions of such shadowypersonages, that but a thin veil is thrown over the bare design. Whatevermay be thought of allegorical poetry as a system, the execution inthis instance is excellent, the flights of fancy brilliant, and often sublime.Rymer finds fault with Spenser for having suffered himself to be “misledby Ariosto;” and says that “his poem is perfect Fairyland.” The readersof poetry in the present day will probably receive that censure as praise:marvels and adventures, even if probability be not made matter ofconscience, may have more attraction than classic regularity andstrict adherence to the unities. But though Spenser frequentlyimitated both Tasso and Ariosto in descriptions of battles, and hisgeneral delineation of knight-errantry, the plan and conduct of hispoem deviated widely from Ariosto’s model, and, it is generally thought,not on the side of improvement. Ariosto narrates adventures as real,however extravagant, and only occasionally intermixes portions of pureallegory. But allegory is the staple of Spenser’s design; and hislegendary tales are interwoven with it so far only as they are connectedwith his one human hero. With the exception of Prince Arthur, hisheroes are abstractions; they bear the names of knights, but are inreality Virtues personified. Dryden finds fault with Spenser’s obsoletelanguage, and the ill choice of his stanza. The poems of theElizabethan age, now considered as the golden age of poetry, are somuch more read and better understood in these later times, than theywere in Dryden’s days, that the language is no longer felt as a serious200obstacle to the pleasures of perusal. With respect to the form ofstanza, it was natural for Dryden, the mighty master of the couplet,to condemn it; and it may be in itself objectionable as favouringredundancy of style, not only in respect of expletives and tautology,but of ideas. Its fulness of melody however, and sonorous majesty,have of late brought it into favour both with writers and readers.

Of all critics, none can be better worth hearing, on such a subject asthat of the Faery Queene, than the historian of English poetry.Warton writes thus:—“If the Faery Queene be destitute of thatarrangement and economy which epic severity requires, yet we scarcelyregret the loss of these, while their place is so amply supplied by somethingwhich more powerfully attracts us; something which engages theaffections, the feelings of the heart, rather than the cold approbation ofthe head. If there be any poem whose graces please, because they aresituated beyond the reach of art; and where the force and faculties ofcreative imagination delight, because they are unassisted and unrestrainedby those of deliberate judgment, it is this: in readingSpenser, if the critic is not satisfied, yet the reader is transported.”

The principal editions of Spenser are Upton’s ‘Faery Queene, witha Glossary and Notes,’ London, 1751; and Mr. Todd’s VariorumEdition of his Works, 8 vols. 8vo. 1805.

201

GROTIUS.

Hugh de Groot, or Hugo Grotius, as he is more generally designated,was born at Delft in Holland, on Easter Sunday, April 10,1583[12]. His family was ancient and of noble extraction, both on thepaternal and maternal sides. His father, John de Groot, who wasCurator of the University of Leyden, was a lawyer and a poet of considerablereputation.

12.A discrepancy appears in the accounts of the different biographers of Grotiusrespecting the date of his birth; some fixing it in 1582, and others in 1583. The factis only material with reference to the anecdotes of his early acquirements, and it is ascertainedbeyond a doubt, by a very simple circ*mstance. That Grotius was born on EasterSunday, and on the 10th of April, appears in numerous passages of his letters and poems;and as Easter Sunday fell on the 10th of April in 1583, and did not fall on that day formany years before and afterwards, the date of his birth seems to be satisfactorily provedby that coincidence. See Nicolas’s Tables.

The mind of Grotius was developed with unusual rapidity. Inhis ninth year he is said to have made extemporaneous Latin verses;in his fifteenth year he published his edition of Martian Capella,and before that time, his biographers state that he disputed twicepublicly in the schools on questions of philosophy and civil law. Hismemory is said to have been so prodigious, that being present atthe muster of a regiment on some particular occasion, he afterwardsrepeated accurately every name which had been called. Anecdotes ofthis kind are seldom to be traced to any good authority, and are frequentlymerely fabulous; but there is no doubt that, at a very tenderage, Grotius had made extraordinary progress in the acquisition oflearning. The knowledge and critical discernment displayed in hisedition of Capella, which was unquestionably published in 1599, excited202the astonishment of his contemporaries. Scaliger, De Thou, Lipsius,Casaubon, have characterised this work as a prodigy of juvenilelearning; and those who have patience to read it at the present daywill collect from the annotations, that at the age of fifteen theeditor must have read critically and carefully the works of Apuleius,Albericus, Cicero, Aquila, Porphyry, Aristotle, Strabo, Ptolemy,Pliny, Euclid, and many other ancient and modern authors, in differentlanguages and on various subjects, and cannot fail to considerGrotius as a wonderful instance of early talents, industry, and acquirement.“Reliqui viri,” says his contemporary Heinsius, “tandemfuêre; Grotius vir natus est.” In the following year Grotius publishedthe ‘Phenomena of Aratus,’ an astronomical poem, written originallyin Greek, and translated into Latin by Cicero, when a very young man.Part of Cicero’s translation had been lost in course of time; andin this publication the deficiencies were supplied by Grotius in Latinverse with much elegance and success. In a letter to the Presidentde Thou, written in 1601, when he was not eighteen years ofa*ge, he thus modestly refers to those astonishing works:—“I wasexceedingly glad when I understood that my Capella and Aratuswere not only come to your hand, but were also favourably receivedby you. My own opinion of Martianus and the other Syntagm is onlythis, that they are capable of some excuse from my age; for I wrotethem when I was very young. But you are pleased to augur wellfrom these beginnings, and to express a judgment that they may growup into some hope hereafter. I hope it may be so; for it is mygreatest desire and ambition a laudatis laudari.”

Before he went to the university, he was placed under the care of anArminian clergyman, named Uitenbogard, from whom he derivedthat strong sectarian bias, which had afterwards a powerful effectupon his character and fortune. At twelve years of age Grotius wassent to the University of Leyden, where, though he remained onlythree years, he became so much distinguished, that he attracted thenotice of Scaliger, and many of the most celebrated scholars of thetimes. He had always been intended for the profession of the law;and lest the allurements of general literature, and the flattery ofsuccessful authorship, which had greatly withdrawn him from legalstudies, should lead him to renounce the lucrative and honourableemployment for which he was designed, his father sought to turn histhoughts into a new channel. It happened that about this time thecelebrated Grand Pensionary, Barneveldt, was sent on an embassyfrom the Dutch States to Henry IV., for the purpose of persuading203him to conclude a new treaty of perpetual alliance with Hollandand England against Spain. John de Groot readily obtained forhis son a situation in the train of Barneveldt. Grotius remainedin France a whole year, and during that time was treated withmarked distinction and respect by the learned men of that country,and received the degree of Doctor of Laws from the Universityof Paris. He was also graciously noticed by the king himself, whogave him at his departure his own portrait and a chain of gold. Fromsome unexplained cause, Grotius did not upon this occasion becomeacquainted with the President de Thou; but soon after his return toDelft, he wrote him a letter accompanied by a copy of his Aratus.From that time until the death of the President a constant correspondencewas maintained between them, and Grotius furnished manynotes and materials for that part of De Thou’s history which relatesto the Netherlands and Holland.

Immediately after his return from France to Holland in April1599, Grotius published his “Limeneuretica, sive Portuum investigandorumRatio,” a treatise for the instruction of seamen inascertaining the exact situation of a ship at sea. This work wasmerely a translation, and has been of course long since superseded bymodern discoveries; but it is worthy of remark, as a proof of the extraordinaryacquirements of a youth of sixteen, that he should haveadded to his critical and scholastic knowledge so competent an acquaintancewith magnetism and practical navigation as the translation ofsuch a work implies. In the course of the same year he enrolled himselfon the list of Advocates at the Hague, and before he was eighteenyears of age commenced the actual practice of his profession. In thisoccupation he was eminently successful, though he always disliked it,and lamented the time which it claimed from more congenial pursuits.His reputation and practice, however, daily increased, until in theyear 1607, being recommended by the suffrages of the courts, andnominated by the States of Holland, Prince Maurice conferred uponhim the important and responsible office of Advocate-General of theprovinces of Holland and Zealand. Soon after this appointment, hemarried Mary Reygersburgh, the daughter of an opulent family inZealand, with whom he lived in the most complete harmony.

In the year 1608, while he held the office of Advocate-General,Grotius composed his ‘Mare Liberum,’ the general design of whichwas to show, upon the principles of the law of nations, that the seawas open to all without distinction, and to assert the right of theDutch States to trade to the Indian seas, notwithstanding the claim204of the Portuguese to an exclusive title to that commerce. This tractwas published without the consent of Grotius; and at a subsequentperiod of his life he expressed his disapprobation of it. “My intention,”he says, “was good; but the work savours too much of my want ofyears.” Many years afterwards, Selden published his profound workon maritime rights, entitled ‘Mare Clausum,’ in which he incidentallynotices this treatise of Grotius with much respect, though he advocatesa contrary doctrine. Soon after the appearance of his ‘Mare Liberum,’Grotius published a ‘Dissertation on the Antiquity of the BatavianRepublic,’ for which he received the thanks of the States of Holland,accompanied by a present.

In 1613, he was advanced from his practice as an advocate to thejudicial station of Pensionary of Rotterdam, which office was given himfor life, the usual tenure having been only at will. In the same yeara difference of opinion having arisen between England and the Statesof Holland, respecting the right of fishing for whales in the Northernseas, Grotius was sent into England for the purpose of effecting anamicable arrangement of the dispute. He there became personallyacquainted with Isaac Casaubon, with whom he had previously corresponded.He was favourably noticed by the king during his stay inEngland, and formed an intimate connexion with several of the mosteminent English divines of that day, which he maintained by letters formany years afterwards. In the political object of his embassy he appearsto have failed; the subject in dispute was resumed at Rotterdam in 1615,before commissioners of both countries, but with no more favourableresult to the Dutch States.

Soon after his return from England, Grotius became deeply involvedin the religious animosities which at that time prevailed in Holland.He had adopted the principles of Arminius from Uitenbogard, the instructorof his early youth, and he now zealously maintained thedoctrines of the Arminian party in opposition to the tenets held by thefollowers of Gomar. The questions in dispute related for the mostpart to predestination and other abstract points of Christian doctrine,the discussion of which by the disciples of Arminius on the one hand,and of Gomar, a professor of Leyden, on the other, had divided theUnited Provinces into two parties, animated by the most furious hostilitytowards each other. The public peace being endangered by theviolence to which these religious differences were carried, the Statesof Holland, in 1614, published an edict, drawn up by Grotius,enjoining forbearance and mutual toleration between the contendingparties, but denouncing in unqualified terms the doctrines of the205Gomarists. The effect of this partial and injudicious edict wasto increase the virulence of party spirit; frequent riots ensued, attendedwith popular demonstrations of an alarming kind. The powerful cityof Amsterdam favoured the Gomarists; and hesitated to submitto the edict of 1614. Under these circ*mstances, the States senta deputation, of which Grotius was the chief, for the purpose ofconverting the Town Council of that city to their opinion. Upon thisoccasion Grotius made a judicious and temperate harangue, which wasafterwards translated into Latin, and is published among his works.It was, however, unsuccessful in its result, as the Senate declared thatthe city of Amsterdam could not adopt the edict without endangeringthe church, and risking their commercial prosperity. In the mean timepopular tumults continued and increased; and in this position of affairsthe Grand Pensionary, Barneveldt, proposed to the States of Holland,that the magistrates of the several cities in that province should beauthorized to levy soldiers for the purpose of securing the public tranquillity.The representatives of several towns vehemently opposed thisproposition, but it was adopted, after a stormy debate; and, August 4,1617, a proclamation was issued to carry it into execution.

This decree directly induced a train of circ*mstances, which eventuallyled to the death of Barneveldt, and the ruin and banishment ofGrotius. Prince Maurice of Nassau, who was at that time Governorand Captain-general of the United Provinces, denounced it as an actillegal and unjustifiable in itself, and an invasion of his authority. Heinfluenced the States-General to write to the magistrates of those provincesand cities which had acted under the decree by raising soldiers,commanding them to disband their levies; and upon the refusal ofmany of them to comply with this requisition, he obtained authorityto proceed to the recusant cities, and enforce their obedience. Havingexecuted this commission successfully in the towns of Nimeguen,Overyssel, and Arnheim, Maurice, who on the death of his brotherin February, 1618, had assumed the title of Prince of Orange, proceededto Utrecht, with the same object. The States of Holland hadin the mean time sent thither Grotius and Hoogerbertz, the Pensionaryof Leyden, for the purpose of opposing the Prince’s commission. Theystimulated the magistrates of the city to resist the assumed authorityof the States-General, to increase their militia, and to double the guardsat the gates. They also brought letters from the States of Holland tothe officers of the ordinary garrison, persuading them that it wastheir duty to obey the States of Utrecht, in opposition to the States-Generaland the Prince of Orange. Notwithstanding these preparations206the Prince entered the city without forcible resistance, and havingdisbanded the new levies, displaced several magistrates, and arrestedsome of those who had been most active in their opposition, returnedto the Hague. Grotius was now satisfied that all further attempts atopposition would be useless, and prevailed upon the magistrates ofRotterdam at once to dismiss the levies made under the obnoxiousdecree.

The Prince of Orange and the States-General were highly incensedat the measures taken to excite a forcible opposition at Utrecht; andBarneveldt, Grotius, and Hoogerbertz, were arrested, August 29, 1618,upon the charge of having raised an insurrection at that place, andcommitted to close custody in the castle of the Hague.

In the ensuing November, the prisoners, having previously undergonerepeated examinations, were separately tried before twenty-six commissioners,chosen from the principal nobility and magistracy of theSeven Provinces. Barneveldt was tried first, and was condemned tobe beheaded, for various acts of insubordination towards the States;and in particular for having promoted the insurrection at Utrecht.The trial of Grotius followed a few days afterwards. He complainsof having been treated then, and during the previous examinations,with great hardship and injustice: he says that he was pressed to answerensnaring questions directly, when he required time, and that the commissionersrefused to read over his examinations to him, after they hadwritten down his answers. He was, however, found guilty, andsentence was passed upon him, May 18, 1619, recapitulating the headsof the charges of which he had been convicted, and condemning him toimprisonment for life, and the confiscation of his estate.

The castle of Louvestein was selected for his place of confinement,a fortress situated near Gorcum, in South Holland, at the point ofthe island formed at the junction of the Waal and the Meuse. Herehe was kept a close prisoner: his father was refused permission tosee him, and his wife was only admitted on condition of sharing hisimprisonment, being told that if she left the castle she would not beallowed to return. These restrictions were afterwards, however, considerablyrelaxed: his wife obtained leave to quit the castle twice aweek, and Grotius was permitted to borrow books, and to correspondwith his friends on all subjects except politics.

It is not for such minds as that of Grotius that “stone walls canmake a prison.” During nearly two years of close imprisonment, withno society but that of his wife, who constantly attended him, he employedhimself in digesting and applying those stores of learning207which he had previously acquired, and study became at once hisbusiness and his consolation. “The Muses,” says he, in a letter toVossius during his confinement, “are a great alleviation of my misfortune.You know that when I was most oppressed by business,they furnished my most delightful recreation; how much more valuableare they to me now, when they constitute the only enjoyment whichcannot be taken from me!” During his captivity he occupied muchof his time in legal studies, of which other pursuits had for some yearscaused an intermission, and also in arranging and completing his improvementsand additions to Stobæus, which were afterwards published;but his favourite employment appears to have been theology,and especially a laborious and critical examination of the Sermon on theMount. He also at this time wrote a treatise in the Dutch languageon the Truth of the Christian Religion, which a few years afterwards,while at Paris, he enlarged and translated into Latin. In its improvedstate it became more generally known and popular than any of hisworks, having been translated, during the seventeenth century, intothe English, French, Flemish, German, Persian, Arabic, and Greeklanguages. This treatise was well worthy of the great attention whichit excited: in point of force of argument and clearness of arrangementit will not suffer on a comparison with the works of Paley and otherpopular modern writers on the same subject; and in temper and candourit is superior to most of them. Grotius says, in the introduction,that he originally wrote it to furnish an occupation to his countrymenduring the unemployed leisure of long voyages on commercial adventures;and in the hope that, by thus instructing them in the mostintelligible and convincing arguments in favour of Christianity, theymight become the means of diffusing its advantages among distantnations. In the first book, he maintains the existence, attributes, andprovidence of a Supreme Being; in the second, he enumerates theparticular arguments in favour of the divine origin of the Christianreligion; in which part of the subject his illustration of the internalevidence derived from the superior dignity and excellence of the moralprecepts of Christianity is peculiarly admirable. The third divisionof the treatise contains a critical defence of the authenticity of thebooks of the New Testament; and the three remaining parts aredevoted to a refutation of Paganism, Judaism, and Mahometanism.The perspicuity of the style, and the spirit of candour which pervadesthe whole treatise, well adapted it to the purpose for which it was intended;and though many modern authors have followed in the same208course of reasoning, it may still be read with advantage as an excellentepitome of the arguments for the truth of Christianity.

In the early part of 1621, after nearly two years had been passedby Grotius at Louvestein, the fertile invention of his wife devised themeans of his escape. It was his practice to return the books, whichhe borrowed from his friends, in a large chest, in which his wifesent linen from the castle to be washed at Gorcum. During thefirst year of his imprisonment the guards invariably examined thischest before it left the castle, but as they continually found nothingbut books and dirty linen, they gradually relaxed in their search,until at last it was wholly omitted. Grotius’s wife resolved to turntheir negligence to her husband’s advantage. The chest was largeenough to contain a man, and she prevailed upon him to try whetherhe could bear to be shut up for so long a time as would be necessaryto convey the chest across the water to Gorcum. The experimentproved the scheme to be practicable, and the first favourableopportunity was seized for carrying it into execution. On the 22ndof March, during the absence of the governor from the castle, Grotiuswas placed in the chest, and holes having been bored in it by his wifein order to admit air, it was carried down from the castle by twosoldiers on a ladder. One of the soldiers, suspecting somethingfrom the weight, insisted upon taking it to the governor’s house to beopened; but the governor’s wife, who was probably in the secret,told him she was well assured that the chest contained nothing butbooks, and ordered him to carry it to the boat. In this mannerGrotius crossed the water and arrived safely at a friend’s housein Gorcum. He then passed through the streets in the disguise of amason, and stepped into a boat which took him to Valvic in Brabant,from whence he afterwards escaped to Antwerp. Upon the first discoveryof the trick which had been practised upon him by the wifeof Grotius, the governor of Louvestein confined her rigorously; butshe was discharged upon presenting a petition to the States-General.

By the advice of various powerful friends in France, Grotius determinedto make Paris his city of refuge. He was well received in theFrench metropolis, both by learned men and politicians, and in thebeginning of the following year was presented to the King, who bestowedupon him a pension of 3000 livres. In the year 1622 hepublished his ‘Apology,’ in which he vindicates his conduct from theparticular charges which had formed the subject of the proceedingsagainst him, and argues against the legality of his sentence and the209competency of the tribunal by which he was tried. His work excitedmuch attention throughout Europe, and greatly irritated the States-General,who published so violent an edict against it, that the friendsof Grotius entertained fears for his personal safety. In order, therefore,to place himself more fully under the protection of the French government,he obtained letters of naturalization from Louis XIII.

In 1625 he completed his treatise ‘De Jure Belli et Pacis,’ whichwas published at Paris in that year. None of the works of Grotiushave excited so much attention as this treatise: it was the firstattempt to reduce into a system the subject of international law; andthe industry and extensive learning of the author well qualifiedhim for the task. More complete and useful works upon this subjecthave been written since the time of Grotius; but in order to estimateproperly the magnitude and value of his labours, it should beconsidered that, before he wrote, the ground was wholly unbroken. Inhis own age, and in that which succeeded it, this work was held in thehighest estimation, being translated into various languages, and circulatedas a standard book throughout Europe.

Grotius remained more than nine years in France, and during thatperiod published, in addition to the works already noticed, severaltheological treatises of small interest at the present day. The latterpart of his residence in France was rendered uncomfortable by severaldisagreeable circ*mstances, and in particular by the backwardness ofthe French government in paying his pension. He made variousattempts to return to Holland, which were discouraged by his friends,as the sentence against him was still in force; but towards the latterend of the year 1631, finding his abode in France intolerable, he determinedat all hazards to revisit his native country. He soon found,however, that he had taken an unwise step: the States-General issuedan order for his arrest, and after in vain endeavouring to appease hisenemies, he quitted Holland in March 1632, intending to take up hisabode at Hamburgh, which place he did not, however, reach beforethe end of the year.

There is reason to believe that Gustavus Adolphus, the King ofSweden, was about to take the Dutch jurist into his employment, whenhe was killed at the battle of Lutzen, in November, 1632. Two yearsafterwards, however, Oxenstiern, who conducted the government ofSweden, appointed Grotius resident ambassador to the infant Queen atthe court of France; and he made his public entry into Paris in thatcharacter, March 2, 1635. He filled this arduous and responsible situationfor ten years, to the entire satisfaction of the government which210he represented. Towards the close of his service many circ*mstancesconcurred to render it far from agreeable. Disputes arose betweenhim and other ambassadors upon questions of precedency, whichwere fomented and encouraged by the French government; andthe irregular remittance of his salary from Sweden occasioned himfrequent and vexatious embarrassment. At the end of the year1642 he writes thus to his brother: “I am come to the ageat which many wise men have voluntarily renounced places of honour.I love quiet, and would gladly devote the remainder of my life to theservice of God and of posterity. If I had not some hope of contributingto a general peace, I should have retired before this time.” At lengththe appointment of an agent to the crown of Sweden at Paris, withwhom Grotius foresaw that constant disagreements and broils wouldarise, determined him to solicit his recall. This request was granted;and the Queen of Sweden wrote to him with her own hand, expressingthe greatest satisfaction at his services, and promising him some futureemployment more suitable to his age and inclinations. He left Parisin June 1645, and travelling through Holland, where he was courteouslyreceived by those who had previously treated him with everykind of indignity, arrived at Stockholm in the following month. TheQueen seems to have entertained him honourably and kindly: bothshe and the members of her council praised his past services, and gavehim abundant promises for the future; and in a letter to his brother,dated July 18, 1645 (the last of his letters which is known to be extant),he speaks with gratification of the honourable notice which he hadreceived. He appears, however, to have taken an insuperable dislike toSweden, and to have resolved at once not to spend the remainder ofhis days in that country. The Queen pressed him repeatedly to remain,and assured him that if he would continue in Sweden, and formpart of her council, she would amply provide for him. He pleadedthe decline of his health, that the climate was injurious to his constitution,and that his wife was unable to live in Sweden; and adheredto his determination. The Queen hesitated to grant him a passport;upon which he left Stockholm without one, and was overtaken andbrought back by a messenger. At length the Queen, seeing that hisresolution was not to be overcome, permitted him to depart, dismissinghim with a considerable present in money and plate.

A vessel had been provided to transport him from Lubeck to Hamburgh,in which he embarked on the 12th of August. He had scarcelyput to sea, when a violent storm arose and drove the vessel into a portnear Dantzic. From this place he set out in an open carriage, in the211most inclement weather, intending to return to Lubeck, and arrived atRostock on his way thither, August 28. He there complained ofextreme illness, and desired a physician to be sent for, who soon discoveredthat his end was approaching. A clergyman, named Quistorpius,also attended him, and has given an interesting account of hislast moments. Grotius died in the night of the 28th of August, 1645.His body was carried to Delft, and laid in the tomb of his ancestors.In modern times a handsome monument has been erected to hismemory.

The reader who may wish for fuller information respecting thebiography of Grotius may consult with much advantage ‘La Vie deGrotius,’ par M. de Burigny, which was published at Paris in 1752,and translated into English two years afterwards. Mr. Butler, theauthor of the ‘Memoirs of the English Catholics,’ published a lifeof Grotius in 1826; but it is neither so copious nor so accurate asthe work of M. de Burigny.