Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

given as a ray of celestial joy, to kindle on the altar of religion the pure offering of connubial duty, thus to be debased into the ministring spark of illicit desire or the consuming torch of unrestrained passion?" Gently, good Mr. T, gently," exclaimed the Editor's Wife, reserve this ebullition of your indignant feeling for your next Lyrics- the author meant no such thing, and only describes the strug. gles of Imogine against the unyielding strength of her first attachment. Had this attachment been blest by the union of its victim with the object of it -the ray which you talk about would have lost nothing of its purity, nothing of its heavenly origin-And in the marriage with Aldobrand, she sacrificed to filial duty what she had fondly hoped she might have willingly offered to youthful love. But let us hear her speak for herself.

-

-Mark me, Clotilda, And mark me well: I am no desperate wretch,

Who borrows an excuse from shameful pas

sion,

To make its shame more vile

[ocr errors]

I am a wretched, but a spotless wifeI've been a daughter but too dutiful-But oh the writhings of a generous soul Stabb'd by a confidence it can't return, To whom a kind word is a blow on th' heart: I cannot paint thy wretchedness." -"All this is sad, very sad indeed, Madain," replied the Poet-" 'tis true tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true; but there. is a maxim which I have read in the moral pages of a female writer, who certainly was no dramatist fit for the present age, which tells me, that the surest way to avoid guilt, is not to indulge the thoughts which engender it'-Now, in truth, Imogine declares that this indulgence was the hour of her joy. She was in love with Bertram -she married Aldobrand-that love, therefore, ought to have been suppressed in a consciousness of its dangerous influence-Yet she made his portrait the companion of her midnight pillow-yet she viewed it as the object of her idolatry-yet she fed upon the poison of her soul-Wretched such a woman must be, but spotless she cannot be And had she been as conscious of resisting as she was of indulging her unchastened joy-she would not have had to make this complaint Oh! wretched is the dame to whom the sound,

Your Lord will soon return'-no pleasure brings.

Hear, in answer to your vindication of
Imogine's conduct, our Milton's de-
scription of Mental Chastity :-
So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of Sin and Guilt;
And in clear dream and solemn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can
hear;

Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind.

[ocr errors]

"O grant me patience!" exclaimed the Lady: "what would you have an author do? If he would represent a criminal, must he not delineate the crime?"-"Doubtless, but not justify it, Madam," observed the Doctor of Divinity.-"Well then, Sir," resumed the Advocate of Bertram,' "I shall not insist upon the moral tendency of this play, if I must surrender that point to your graver objections-but I maintain the author's claim to a Poet's honour-and as another proof of it, I will select Imo. gine's Address to the Moon, in the 3d

scene of the 2d act.

[blocks in formation]

vents it from being as insinuating in its baneful influence-The soliloquy which you have this moment read, had been well applied to the lips of a Julietand so applied, it had been possessed of beauties which are all withered as soon as the breath of a wife and a mother gives utterance to it.-But I would find an excuse for the author, as far as he would challenge consistency-Imogine had been uneducated, if we may judge by her own account of herself-and the heart unguarded by education is easily betrayed into a surrender of its maturer duties to the force of early impressions, especially when the most natural of passions produces those impressions. To pourtray, therefore, the effect of a vicious inclination concealing itself from the untutored judgment of its victim by its specious character of harmless indulgence, it would be necessary to draw an Imogine-but it is a question, whether these Spartan representations of the offensive character of vice, are, in the present age, so beneficial as the display of its virtuous contraries at all events, when a people have fallen into vitiating habits, and they become accustomed to the constant recurrence of their mischievous effects, those very habits and this unvarying experience will induce them to look with an unwinking eye upon the disgusting deformity of vice, and to reflect with an unimproved heart upon its hateful tyranny over the human mind.—With these feelings, Madam, I have opposed your vindication of Bertram, and used those observations which led to it We have enough of conjugal violation -enough of adulterous indulgence enough of sophistical apology-enough of the wretched perversion of right and wrong with which the perpetrators would justify their hideous deeds-We have enough also of miserable experience in its terrible subversion of public character and domestic peace-We want not plays like Bertram or the Stranger to display the ugliness or to extenuate the infamy of the crime-There is too much personification of the criminals in real life to make it necessary for the poet or the player to introduce it upon the stage-But we want restraint of the immoral feelings which lead to it, and a corrective consciousness of the extensive mischief of its prevalence-neither of which remedies is Bertram or the Stranger calculated to bestow, but rather to render still more indispensably requisite. (To be continued.)

[blocks in formation]

NO repine at the situation in which

Providence, is to arraign the decrees of an all-wise and benevolent Creator, merely because they are too infinite to be compressed within the narrow and feeble bounds of mortal conception. While daily experience teaches us that no situation of life is exempt from evil, it also shews us, that the most abject being is as capable of obtaining happi ness as the most exalted. To indulge, therefore, sentiments of envy and dis content at the better fortune of others, and conceive ourselves abandoned when we are surrounded with poverty and distress, is to betray a want of confidence in the unbounded wisdom of our heavenly Father. When we look around and survey the exalted wonders of creation, and behold with awful astonishment His magnificent works, we are filled with adoration; we are struck with his omnipotence; and can we then for a moment conceive that He, who has thus excited his divine power in the production of such innumerable blessings, will cause them to be more exclusively appropriated to one of his creatures than another, without a wise and prudent reason. His love for us is too great to warrant the assertion. We all stand upon the same footing of equality in his sight, and though apparently he may bless some more than others, his mercy and love are so great, that his care is equally distributed over all his people.

To those who fancy themselves miserable because they are excluded from the possession of many worldly com forts, which are so abundantly enjoyed

by others, I would offer the foregoing reflections, and at the same time, oppose them to those feelings of envy with which we are too apt to regard the votaries of wealth, power, and ambition. When reason is overcome by the representations of vanity, we feel ourselves cast down at the approach of those, whose only superiority consist in their worldly acquisitions; we sigh for the enjoyment of pomp, riches, and pleasure, as they glide before our imaginations, and endeavour to arrest the deeting images which delude the fancy; but when the glittering chimera of the brain has subsided, and reason has once more assumed her dominion over us, we revert with pleasure to our former ideas, the extravagant sallies of the imagination are checked, we regard with indifference the fortunes of the great, and once more amuse the mind with the pleasant prospects of comfort and content.

But before we imagine that these 1 several acquisitions are necessary to happiness, it would be as well to examine how far such a connection exists, and to discover whether they are in themselves worthy of envy. And first, is it to be found in the acquisition of rank and power? As the lofty oak is more exposed to the rude blasts of the wintry storm, and stands in more danger of the dreadful hurricane, than the trembling reed, so is the votary of power a more conspicuous mark for the malice and ill-will of mankind. Compelled for ever to be on the alert to counteract the intrigues of enemies, perplexed with troubles, harassed with fatigue, and worn out with anxiety, his mind is continually kept in a state of uneasy solicitude, his joys, if any he can boast, are perpetually disturbed by the magnitude of his undertakings, the importance of his designs banish his quietude of mind, his days are devoted to anxiety, his nights to misery; and though by his situation he may possess a commanding influence over numbers of his fellow-creatures, he wears beneath the borrowed robes of happy importance the worn-out visage of care and perplexity.

If we look for it in vain in the enjoy ment of power, our search in the more trifling and light amusements of the world will be equally fruitless. The man whose thoughts and attention are solely directed to the gratifications of his senses, and seeks for happiness in the fatal charms of sensuality, however

gay in his appearance, and lively in his looks, is one of the greatest objects of pity we could offer to notice, a frequent succession of his amusements quickly tire his imagination, pall his appetite, and deaden his fancy; he sickens on his enjoyments, turns to them with misery, and supports them rather as a burthen than a pleasure. The same successive round of objects dim his perception and blunt his gratifications; till, at last, enervated by his imprudence he is reduced to that state of mind that he becomes unable to search after that happiness elsewhere, which he in vain has sought for here.

Nor is it more incidental to riches. Gold indeed may be the means of procuring many enjoyments, and enable us to gratify our most ardent inclinations, but unassisted and alone it can never procure us true happiness. So precarious too are this world's riches, that tomorrow may not see the prosperity of to-day, and to place our trust in them would be vain and foolish; besides, they cannot purchase us true and solid satisfaction; and as it has plainly been shown that those pleasures which it can afford are by no means calculated to procure it, we cannot reasonably allow their efficacy in this instance.

How great and evident, then, must be our folly, when we envy others for the enjoyment of those things which experience teaches us cannot produce happiness of themselves but let it at the same time be remembered, that I do not insist upon the unreasonableness of desiring these various acquisitions, but am only contemning the uselessness of our wishing to possess them merely for the gratifications they contain. Happiness is seated solely in virtue; and unless these are inseparably connected with it, they will infallibly prove sources of misery and vexation. We may delude ourselves for a time, and fancy that we have obtained our warmest wishes in the possession of what is esteemed great and noble among men; but sooner or later the delusion must vanish, and heap upon us the rewards of our own folly.

Since, then, it appears that we are not indebted to worldly enjoyments for our present happiness, we cannot but allow that no one situation in life is more capable than another of producing it without the aid and assistance of virtuous inclinations. Whatever may be our lot, and in whatever sphere we are destined to move,

we should be careful of conducting ourselves in it with that degree of propriety which belongs to it, and endeaYour faithfully to discharge the trust reposed in us. Let not the mind be immersed in pride and arrogance, should we find ourselves exalted to the more elevated situations of the world; let us not forget that we are mortals as well as the most abject, subject to the same cares, vexations, and misfortunes as others, and not preferred to any pre-eminence for our superior merit, but rather by the wisdom of God. Should our situation be reversed, and we find ourselves moving in the lower degrees of life, let us not regard with envy those that are above us: we may console ourselves richly by reflecting, that let whatever happen, we are as much the peculiar care of Heaven as others; and though we may be more immediately exposed to the attacks of misfortune, the time is not far distant when we shall be fully repaid for the oppressive burthen of our calamities.

prey to their seducing allurements. In short, if we are at all impressed with the benevolence of a Creator, we must look upon his decisions as decisions of wis dom-if we do not, but disregard them, fatal experience will at no great distance of time compel us, and, in so doing, cast upon us the merited reward of an obstinate infidelity.

For the EUROpean MagazINE.
TRUE ENGLISH HUMANITY.

A HINT TO OUR RICH EMIGRATORS.

Ta time when so many of our

A gone

Without a proper sense of religion and morality, we shall always be unhappy even in the midst of enjoyments. These are the things which sweeten life, extend its charms, and diffuse its beauties; destitute of them, we may wan der through the path of mortality, without being able to smooth its rugged track, or soften the gloomy prospect that awaits us. Whether high or low, lord or slave, master or servant, these alone are able to exalt us; and though we may be enslaved with all the ag gravated horrors of bondage, by being guided in all our actions by a Christian spirit, we are considerably exalted be yond him who inflicts his cruelty upon

[ocr errors]

To what purpose, then, is all the pageantry of the great, the splendor of riches, or the trappings of grandeur? We must be aware that they do not add to our felicity; they feed our vanity for a while, and please the fancy; but as they contribute to no solid and perfect enjoyment, must be looked upon with contempt rather than envy: and indeed I am fully of opinion, that in many cases our own reflection will tell us that it is much preferable to be without them. Where the mind is naturally weak, the dazzling grandeur of pomp, and the glare of wealth and affluence, would intoxicate it; and not being able to resist the temptation, would eagerly seize the proffered pleasures, and fall a

France, for the purpose of consuming in the pursuit of foreign pleasures that portion of their wealth, of which a very small share would have diffused comfort among the starving labourers of their native residences, we record with heartfelt satisfaction the following circumstance, which in all its bearings is most honourable to the party, and most consolatory to the drooping objects of the beneficence which it displays: we most earnestly press it upon the imitation of those who in the same pursuit have not adopted the same ge nerous method of preventing the melancholy results of their absence to those who have been in the habit of being fed with the crumbs which fall from their tables.

A gentleman of considerable connexions in the city has recently set out with his family upon an excursion through France, where they mean to continue during the next two years-but not unmindful of the loss which the poor of their country-residence must suffer in the meanwhile, this worthy man has given orders for the establishment of his house in the country to be kept up, as usual, and the same unsparing supplies of food and clothing to be given to the indigent inhabitants of the village, as they have constantly bestowed upon them.

If the great and affluent are resolved to go abroad while the peculiar exigencies of their necessitous country men cry aloud for that relief which the accustomed expenditure of the families affords, we take upon ourselves, from the foregoing example of genuine cha rity, to remind them of their SAVIOUR”

INJUNCTION,

GO AND DO ya likewISE,

W

FRAGMENTA.

BBING THOUGHTS, OBSERVATIONS, REFLECTIONS, AND CRITICISMS, WITH ANECDOTES AND CHARACTERS ANCIENT

AND MODERN.

No. XI.

MEDICINE.

HERE was a time when physicians

THE

were bound to a strict attention towards the welfare of their patients, by somewhat besides the consideration of their own credit and future profit; for we find, that at Dijon, in 1886, a physician was fined by the bailiff fifty golden franks (besides being imprisoned) for not having completed the cures of some, whose recovery he had undertaken. And the beautiful Austrigilda, consort to Gontram, King of Burgundy, had, in the sixth century, been permitted by her husband, in compliance with her dying request, to have her two physicians slain, and buried with her. But whether from attachment to them, or by way of punishment for their ill success in her case, is not said by M. de St. Foix, who records the fact.

The common jocular advice given to persons who are sick from the effects of intoxication the night before, is, "to take a bair of the same dog that bit them the last night;" i. e. to set to drinking again. This saying seems to be derived from a ridiculous mode of cure, prescribed to persons bitten by a mad dog in a French treatise, entitled, "La Medecine aisée," written by "M. Le Clerc, Conseiller-medecin du Roy," published at Paris, 1719. In page 103, we read, "Pour la cure de la playe, mettez dessus du poil du chien qui a mordu. C'est la remede de Paré."

The art of examining and curing wounds was, by writers of romance, allotted to princesses, and danisels of high birth. In later days, Buchanan writes, that the Scots nobility were remarkably dexterous in the chirurgical art; and he says of James the IVth of Scotland," Quod vulnera scientissemé tractaret."

"Are you out of sorts," says the facetious Montaigne, "that your phy. sician has denied you the enjoyment

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

of wine, and of your favorite dishes? Be not uneasy; apply to me, and I will engage to find you one of equal credit, who shall put you under a regimen perfectly opposite to that settled by your own adviser." "So very fantastical is the practice of physic," adds our humorist, "that I have seen a man starve himself until he actually fainted from mere inanition, to get rid of a disorder, and afterwards be bitterly ridiculed, by a different physician from his own, for having by his painful abstinence actually increased the disorder he had hoped to cure at the cost of such severe self-denial."

In 1393, physicians were so low in esteem at the French court, that they were actually superseded in their attendance on the unfortunate Charles VI. of France, by a professed necro

mancer.

Mad. de Lussan tells us, and the story, strange as it is, is confirmed by good authorities, that the unhappy prince's health was entrusted to the care of one Arnaud Guillen, who undertook to restore him to his senses by dint of magic. This wizard vaunted the possession of a book, entitled "Smagorod," which he said the Almighty had given to Adam, to console him for the death of Abel, whose fate that unhappy parent had unceasingly lamented during one hundred years. He failed, however, as every physician had failed before him. "He had found a charm,” he said, "which oppressed the royal understanding, but it was too powerful for his spells to remove." He was driven from the court with disgrace, but his doctrine as to the cause of the king's malady gained ground among the people.

Towards the close of the fifteenth century, Lorenzo de Medicis, of Florence, died of a disease which, it is said, might have been cured, had not Leoni, a celebrated physician of Spoleto, left too much to nature, and avoided to use any medicine whatever. Lazaro, an inhabitant of Pavia, equally celebrated for medical skill with Leoni, having made this error publicly known, raised the resentment of the deceased prince's friends to so high a pitch, that it proved fatal to the mistaken physician. For Pietro, son to Lorenzo, à youth who, though aged only seventeen years, was able to foil the most expert wrestler, happening to meet the unfortunate Leoni near the brink of a

D

« ZurückWeiter »