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LITERATURE.

thod of fluxions before Sir Isaac, and when the dispute grew so violent that even the calm Newton sent a formal defiance in set terms, and got even George the Second to try to arbitrate, (who would rather have undertaken a campaign) the method of fluxions was no more cleared up, than the present affair between our two heroes of the quill.

A recent instance of one of these egregious caligraphers may be told of the late Tomkins. This vainest of writing masters dreamed through life that penmanship was one of the fine arts, and that a writing-master should be seated with his peers in the Academy! He bequeathed to the British Museum his opus magnum; a copy of Macklin's Bible, profusely embellished with the most beautiful and varied decorations of his pen; and as he conceived that both the workman and the work would abke be darling objects with posterity, he left something immortal with the legacy, his fine bust by Chantry! unaccompanied by which they were not to receive the unparalleled gift. When Tomkins applied to have his bust, our great sculptor abated the usual price, and courteously kind to the feelings of the man, said that he considered Tomkins as an artist! It was the proudest day of the life of our writing-master!

tween artists, may be compared to a turn-stile, which
stands in every man's way, yet hinders nobody; and he
is the slanderer who gives ear to the slander.'*"

But an eminent artist and wit now living, once looking on this fine bust of Tomkins, declared, that this man had died for want of a dinner!-a fate, however, not so lamentable as it appeared! Our penman had long felt that he stood degraded in the scale of genius by not being received at the Academy, at least among the class of engravers; the next approach to academic honour he conceived would be that of appearing as a guest at their annual dinner. These invitations are as limited as they are select, and all the Academy persisted in considering Tomkins as a writing-master! Many a year passed, every intrigue was practised, every remonstrance was urged,every stratagem of courtesy was tried; but never ceasing to deplore the failure of his hopes, it preyed on his spirits, and the luckless caligrapher went down to his grave-without dining at the Academy! This authentic anecdote has been considered as satire improperly directed'-by some friend of Mr Tomkins-but the criticism is much too grave! The foible of Mr Tomkins as a writing-master, a striking illustration of the class of men here derested. I am a mere historian-and am only responsible for the veracity of this fact. That 'Mr Tomkins lived in familiar intercourse with the Royal Academicians of his day, and was a frequent guest at their private tables,' and moreover was a most worthy man, I believe-but is it less true that he was ridiculously mortified by being never invited to the Academic dinner, on account of his caligraphy? He had some reason to consider that his art was of the exalted class, to which he aspired to raise it, when his friend concludes his eulogy of this writing-master thus'Mr Tomkins, as an artist, stood foremost in his own profession, and his name will be handed down to posterity with the Heroes and Statesmen, whose excellences his penmanship has contributed to illustrate and to commemorate. I always give the Pour and the Contre!

Among these knights of the Plume volant,' whose
chivalric exploits astounded the beholders, must be dis.
In this tilting match the guerdon of caligraphy was won
tinguished Peter Bales in his joust with David Johnson.
by the greatest of caligraphers; its arms were assumed
carried away in triumph, was painted with a hand over the
by the victor, azure, a pen or; while the golden pen,'
The history of this renowned
door of the caligrapher.
encounter was only traditionally known, till with my own
eyes I pondered on this whole trial of skill in the precious
not only knew how to win victories, but also to record
manuscript of the champion himself; who, like Cæsar,
nence, that his name has entered into our history. Ho-
them. Peter Bales was a hero of such transcendent emi-
lingshed chronicles one of his curiosities of microscopic
writing, at a time when the taste prevailed for admiring
writing which no eye could read! In the compass of a
silver penny this caligrapher put more things than would
fill several of these pages. He presented Queen Eliza-
beth with the manuscript set in a ring of gold covered with
a crystal; he had also contrived a magnifying glass of such
the whole volume, which she held on her thumb nail, and
power, that, to her delight and wonder, her majesty read
'commended the same to the lords of the council, and the
her majesty vouchsafe to wear this caligraphic ring.
ambassadors; and frequently, as Peter often heard, did

Such men about such things have produced public con-
tests, combats a l'outrance, where much ink was spilt by
the knights in a joust of goose-quills; these solemn trials
have often occurred in the history of writing-masters,
which is enlivened by public defiances, proclamations,
and judicial trials by umpires! The prize was usually a
golden pen of some value. One as late as the reign of
Anne took place between Mr German and Mr More.
German having courteously insisted that Mr More should
set the copy, he thus set it, ingeniously quaint!

As more, and More, our understanding clears,
So more and more our ignorance appears.
The result of this pen-combat was really lamentable;
they displayed such an equality of excellence that the um-
pires refused to decide, till one of them espied that Mr
German had omitted the tittle of an i! But Mr More was
evidently a man of genius, not only by his couplet, but in
his Essay on the Invention of Writing,' where occurs
this noble passage: Art with me is of no party. A no-
ble emulation I would cherish, while it proceeded neither
from, nor to malevolence. Bales had his Johnson, Nor-
man his Mason, Ayres his Matlock and his Shelley; yet
The busy-body who offi-
Art the while was no sufferer

ciously employs himself in creating misunderstandings be

"Some will think I labour on a cobweb'-modestly exclaimed Bales in his narrative, and his present historian much fears for himself! The reader's gratitude will not be proportioned to my pains, in condensing such copious pages into the size of a silver penny,' but without its worth!

For a whole year had David Johnson affixed a challenge To any one who should take exceptions to this my writing and teaching.' He was a young friend of Bales, daring and longing for an encounter; yet Bales was magmuch less in writing and teaching' since this public chalnanimously silent, till he discovered that he was doing lenge was proclaimed! He then set up his counter chalcepted it, in a most despiteful and arrogant manner.' lenge, and in one hour afterwards Johnson arrogantly acBales's challenge was delivered in good terms, apo all pen of twenty pound's value in all kinds of hands, 'best, Englishmen and strangers.' It was to write for a gold mean, a small, with line and without line; in a slow set straightest and fastest,' and most kind of ways; a full, a hand, a mean facile hand, and a fast running hand;' and farther, to write truest and speediest, most secretary and either English or Latin.' clerk-like, from a man's mouth, reading or pronouncing,

Young Johnson had the hardihood now of turning the tables on his great antagonist, accusing the veteran Bales never witnessed by man, without exception of any in the of arrogance. Such an absolute challenge says he, was world! And a few days after meeting Bales, of set purpose to affront and disgrace him what he could, showed Bales a piece of writing of secretary's hand, which he uttering to the challenger these words: Mr Bales, give had very much laboured in fine abortivet parchment,' me one shilling out of your purse, and if within six months you better, or equal this piece of writing, I will give you forty pounds for it.' This legal deposit of the shilling was made, and the challenger, or appellant, was thereby bound by law to the performance.

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The day before the trial a printed declaration was affixed throughout the city, taunting Bales's proud poverty,' and his pecuniary motives, as a thing ungentle, base, and mercenary, and not answerable to the dignity of the golden pen! Johnson declares he would maintain his challenge for a thousand pounds more, but for the respondent's inability to perform a thousand groats. Bales as a sign of his rival's retorts on the libel; declares weakness, yet who so bold as blind Bayard, that hath not a word of Latin to cast at a dog, or say Bo! to a goose!' On Michaelmas day, 1595, the trial opened before five

*I have not met with More's Book, and am obliged to tran. scribe this from the Blog Brit.

This was written in the reign of Elizabeth. Holyoke notices virgin-perchment made of an abortive skin; membrans virgo. Peacham on Drawing, calls parchment simply an abortive.

judges: the appellant and the respondent appeared at the appointed place, and an ancient gentleman was intrusted with the golden pen.' In the first trial, for the manner of teaching scholars, after Jonson had taught his pupil a fortnight, he would not bring him forward! This was awarded in favour of Bales.

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however, has a very human origin. Among those learned Greeks who emigrated to Italy, and afterwards France, in the reign of Francis I, was one Angelo Vergecio, whose beautiful caligraphy excited the admiration of the learned. The French monarch had a Greek fount cast, modelled by his writing. The learned Henry SteThe second, for secretary and clerk-like writing, dic-phens, who, like our Porson for correctness and delicacy, tating to them both in English and in Latin, Bales performed best, being first done; written straightest without line, with true orthogaphy; the challenger himself confessing that he wanted the Latin tongue, and was no clerk! The third and last trial for fair writing in sundry kinds of hands, the challenger prevailed for the beauty and most authentic proportion,' and for the superior variety of the Roman band. In the court hand the respondent exceeded the appellant, and likewise in the set text; and in bastard secretary was also somewhat perfecter.

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At length Bales perhaps perceiving an equilibrium in the judicial decisions, to overwhelm his antagonist, presented what he distinguishes as his master-piece,' composed of secretary and Roman hand four ways varied, and offering the defendant to let pass all his previous advantages if he could better this specimen of caligraphy! The challenger was silent! At this moment some of the judges perceiving that the decision must go in favour of Bales, in consideration of the youth of the challenger, lest he might be disgraced to the world, requested the other judges not to pass judgment in public. Bales assures us, that he in vain remonstrated; for by these means the winning of the golden pen might not be so famously spread as otherwise it would have been. To Bales the prize was awarded. But our history has a more interesting close; the subtile Machiavelism of the first challenger!

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When the great trial had closed, and Bales, carrying off the golden pen, exultingly had it painted and set up for his sigu, the baffled challenger went about reporting that he had won the golden pen, but that the defendant had obtained the same by plots and shifts, and other base and cunning practices.' Bales vindicated his claim, and offered to show the world his master-piece' which had acquired it. Jonson issued an Appeal to all impartial Pen-men,' which he spread in great numbers through the city for ten days, a libel against the judges and the victorious defendant! He declared that there had been a subtile combination with one of the judges concerning the place of trial; which he expected to have been before pen-men,' but not before a multitude like a stage-play, and shouts and tumults, with which the challenger had hitherto been unacquainted. The judges were intended to be twelve; but of the five, four were the challenger's friends, honest gentlemen, but unskilled in judging of most hands; and he offered again forty pounds to be allowed in six months to equal Bale's master piece. And he closes his appeal' by declaring that Bales had lost in several parts of the trial, neither did the judges deny that Bales possessed himself of the golden pen by a trick! Before judgment was awarded, alleging the sickness of his wife to be extreme, he desired she might have a sight of the golden pen to comfort her! The ancient gentleman who was the holder, taking the defendant's word, allowed the golden pen to be carried to the sick wife; and Bales immediately pawned it, and afterwards, to make sure work, sold it at a great loss, so that when the judges met for their definitive sentence, nor pen nor penny-worth was to be had! The judges being ashamed of their own conduct, were compelled to give such a verdict as suited the

occasion:

Bales rejoins: he publishes to the universe the day and the hour when the judges brought the golden pen to his house, and while he checks the insolence of this Bobadil, to show himself no recreant, assumes the golden pen for his sign.

Such is the shortest history I could contrive of this chivalry of the pen; something mysteriously clouds over the fate of the defendant; Bales's history, like Caesar's, is but an ex-parte evidence. Who can tell whether he has not slurred over his defeats, and only dwelt on his victories?

There is a strange phrase connected with the art of the caligrapher, which I think may be found in most, if not in all modern languages. to write like an angel! Ladies have been frequently compared to angels; they are beautiful as angels, and sing and dance like angels; but however intelligible these are, we do not s easily connect penmanship with the other celestial accomplishments. This fanciful phrase,

was one of the most elegant writers of Greek, had learnt the practise from our Angelo. His name became synonymous for beautiful writing, and gave birth to the vulgar proverb or familiar phrase, to write like an angel!

THE ITALIAN HISTORIANS.

It is remarkable that the country, which has long lost its political independence, may be considered as the true parent of modern history. The greater part of their historians have abstained from the applause of their contemporaries, while they have not the less elaborately composed their posthumous folios, consecrated solely to truth and posterity! The true principles of national glory are opened by the grandeur of the minds of these asserters of polnical freedom. It was their indignant spirit, seeking to console its injuries by confiding them to their secret manuscripts, which raised up this singular phenomenon in the literary world.

Of the various causes which produced such a lofty race of patriots, one is prominent. The proud recollections of

their Roman fathers often troubled the dreams of the sous. The petty rival republics, and the petty despotic princ palities, which had started up from some great families, who, at first came forward as the protectors of the people from their exterior enemies or their interior factious, at length settled into a corruption of power; a power which had been conferred on them to preserve liberty itself! These factions often shook by their jealousies, their fears, and their hatreds, that divided land, which groaned whenever they witnessed the Ultramontanes' descending from their Alps and their Apennines. Petrarch, in a noble invective, warmed by Livy and ancient Rome, impatiently beheld the French and the Germans passing the mounts. Enemies,' he cries, so often conquered, prepared to strike with swords, which formerly served us to raise our trophies: shall the mistress of the world bear chaing forged by hands which she has so often bound to their backs?' Machiavel, in his Exhortations to free Italy from the barbarians,' rouses his country against their changeable masters, the Germans, the French, and the Spaniards; closing with the verse of Petrarch, that short ball be the battle for which patriot virtue arms to show the world

'che l'antico valore

Ne ge' Italici cuor non è ancor morto."

Nor has this sublime patriotism declined even in more recent times; I cannot resist from preserving in this place a sonnet by Filicaja, which I could never read without participating in the agitation of the writer, for the ancient glory of his degenerated country! The energetic personification of the close, perhaps, surpasses even his more celebrated sonnet, preserved in Lord Byron's notes to the fourth canto of Childe Harold.'

Dov'è Italia, il tuo bracchio? e a che ti servi
Tu dell' altrui? non è. s'io scorgo il vero,
Di chi t' offende il defensor men fero:
Ambc nemici sono, ambo fur servi.
Cosi dunque l' onor, cosi conservi
Gli avanzi tu del glorioso Impero?
Cosi al valor, cosi al valor primiero
Che a te fede guro, la fede osservi?
Or va; repudia il valor prisco, e sposa
L'ozio, e fra il sangue, i gemiti, e le strida
Nel periglio maggior dormi e riposa!
Dormi, Adultera vil! fin che omicida
Spada ultrice ti svegli, e sonnacchiosa,
E nuda in braccio al tuo fedel t' uccida!
Oh, Italy! where is thine arm? What purpose serves
So to he helped by others? Deem I right,
Among offenders thy defender stands ?
Both are thy enemies-both were thy servants!
Thus dost thou honour-thus dost thou preserve
The mighty boundaries of the glorious empire?
And thus to Valour, to thy pristine Valour
That swore its faith to thee, thy faith thou keep'st?
Go! and divorce thyself from the old Valiance,
And marry Idleness! and midst the blood,
The heavy groans and cries of agony,
In thy last danger sleep, and seek repose!

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LITERATURE.

Sleep, vile Adulteress! the homicidal sword

Vengeful, shall waken thee; and lull'd to slumber,
While naked in thy minion's arms, shall strike!

Among the domestic contests of Italy the true principles of political freedom were developed; and in that country we may find the origin of Philosophical History, which includes so many important views and so many new results, unknown to the ancients.

Machiavel seems to have been the first writer who dis-
covered the secret of what may be called comparative his-
tory. He it was who first sought in ancient history for the
materials which were to illustrate the events of his own
times; by fixing on an logous facts, similar personages,
and parallel periods. This was enlarging the field of his-
tory, and opening a new combination for philosophical
speculation. His profound genius advanced still further;
he not only explained modern by ancient history, but he
deduced those results or principles founded on this new
sort of evidence, which guided him in forming his opinions.
History had hitherto been, if we except Tacitus, but a
story well told, and in writers of limited capacity, the de-
tail and number of facts had too often been considered as
the only valuable portion of history. An erudition of facts
is not the philosophy of history; an historian unskilful in
the art of applying his facts amasses impure ore, which he
The chancellor D'Aguesseau, in
cannot strike into coin.
'Minds which are
his instructions to his son on the study of history, has ad-
mirably touched on this distinction.
purely historical mistake a fact for an argument; they are
so accustomed to satisfy themselves by repeating a great
number of facts and enriching their memory, that they be-
come incapable of reasoning on principles. It often hap-
pens that the result of their knowledge breeds confusion
and universal indecision; for their facts, often contradic-
tory, only raise up doubts. The superfluous and the fri-
volous occupy the place of what is essential and solid, or
at least so overload and darken it, that we must sail with
them in a sea of trifles to get to firm land. Those who only
value the philosophical part of history, fall into an oppo-
site extreme; they judge of what has been done by that
which should be done; while the others always decide on
what should be done by that which has been; the first are
the dupes of their reasoning, the second of the facts which
We should not separate two
they mistake for reasoning.
things which ought always to go in concert, and mutually
lend an aid, reason and example. Avoid equally the con-
tempt of some philosophers for the science of facts, and
the distaste or the incapacity which those who confine
themselves to facts often contract for whatever depends on
pure reasoning. True and solid philosophy should direct
us in the study of history, and the study of history should
give perfection to philosophy. Such was the enlightened
opinion, as far back as at the beginning of the last century,
of the studious chancellor of France, before the more re-
cent designation of Philosophical History was so generally
received, and so familiar on our title-pages.

From the moment that the Florentine secretary conceiv-
ed the idea that the history of the Roman people, opening
such varied spectacles of human nature, served as a point
of comparison to which he might perpetually recur to try
the analogous facts of other nations, and the events pass-
ing under his own eye; a new light broke out and ran
through the vast extents of history. The maturity of ex-
perience seemed to have been obtained by the historian, in
his solitary meditations. Livy in the grandeur of Rome,
and Tacitus in its fated decline, exhibited for Machiavel a
moving picture of his own republics-the march of destiny
in all human governments! The text of Livy and Tacitus
revealed to him many an imperfect secret-the fuller truths
be drew from the depth of his own observations on his
own times. In Machiavel's Discourses on Livy,' we
may discover the foundations of our Philosophical History.

The example of Machiavel, like that of all creative ge-
nius, influenced the character of his age, and his history of
Florence produced an emulative spirit among a new dynas-
ty of historians.

These Italian historians have proved themselves to be an extraordinary race, for they devoted their days to the composition of historical works, which they were certain could not see the light during their lives! They nobly determined that their works should be posthumous, rather than be compelled to mutilate them for the press. These historians were rather the saints than the martyrs of history: they did not always personally suffer for truth, but

during their protracted labour they sustained their spirits
by anticipating their glorified after-state.

Among these Italian historians must be placed the illus-
edition of this historian existed till recent times. The his-
trious Guicciardini, the friend of Machiavel. No perfect
to publish it, till twenty years after the historian's death.
tory itself was posthumous; nor did his nephew venture
He only gave the first sixteen books, and these castrated.
The obnoxious passages consisted of some statements re-
of Europe; some account of the origin and progress of the
lating to the papal court, then so importaut in the affairs
papal power; some eloquent pictures of the abuses and
disorders of that corrupt court; and some free caricatures
on the government of Florence. The precious fragments
were fortunately preserved in manuscript, and the Protes-
tants procured transcripts which they published separately,
but which were long very rare.* All the Italian editions
continued to be reprinted in the same truncated condition,
pure
history, so late as in 1775! Thus it required two centuries,
and appear only to have been reinstated in the immortal
before an editor could venture to give the world the
and complete text of the manuscript of the lieutenant-
indignant an observer of the Roman cabinet.
general of the papal army, who had been so close and so

Idriani, whom his son entitles gentiluom Fiorentino: the
writer of the pleasing dissertation on the ancient painters
graphies; wrote, as a continuation of Guicciardini, a his-
noticed by Pliny,' prefixed to his friend Vasari's bio-
tory of his own times in twenty-two books, of which Deni-
na gives the highest character for its moderate spirit, and
from which De Thou has largely drawn and commends for
its authenticity. Our author, however, did not venture to
death that his son became the editor.
publish his history during his lifetime: it was after his

Nardi, of a noble family and high in office, famed for a translation of Livy which rivals its original in the pleasure it affords, in his retirement from public affairs wrote a hisof his country, in 1531. It was not published till fifty tory of Florence, which closes with the loss of the liberty years after his death; even then the editors suppressed many passages which are found in manuscript in the libraries of Florence and Venice, with other historical documents of this noble and patriotic historian.

About the same time the senator Philip Nerli was curred in Florence. He gave them with his dying hand writing his Commentary de' fatti civili,' which had octo his nephew, who presented the MSS to the Grand Duke; yet although this work is rather an apology than a crimination of the Medici family for their ambitious views and their over-grown power, probably some state-reason interfered to prevent the publication, which did not take place till 150 years after the death of the historian!

Bernardo Segni composed a history of Florence still more valuable, which shared the same fate as that of Nerli. It was only after his death that his relatives accidentally discovered this history of Florence, which the author had carefully concealed during his lifetime. He had abstained from communicating to any one the existence of such a work while he lived, that he might not be induced to check the freedom of his pen, nor compromise the cause and the interests of truth. His heirs presented it to one of the Medici family, who threw it aside. Another copy had been more carefully preserved, from which it was printed, in 1713, about 150 years after it had been written. It appears to have excited great curiosity, for Lenglet du Fresnoy observes, that the scarcity of this history is owing to the circumstance of the Grand Duke having bought up the copies.' Du Fresnoy, indeed, has noticed more than once this sort of address of the Grand Duke; for he observes on the Florentine history of Bruto, that the work was not common; the Grand Duke having bought up the to fly from Italy, for having delivered his opinions too copies, to suppress them. The author was even obliged freely on the house of the Medici. This honest historian sign has but one end; that our posterity may learn hy these notices the root and the causes of so many troubles thus expresses himself at the close of his work. My dewhich we have suffered, while they expose the malignity of those men who have raised them up, or prolonged them; as well as the goodness of those who did all which they could to turn them away.'

*They were printed at Basle in 1569-at London in 1595in Amsterdam, 1663. How many attempts to echo the voice of suppressed truth!-Haym's Bib. Ital. 1803.

It was the same motive, the fear of offending the great personages or their families, of whom these historians had so freely written, which deterred Benedetto Varchi from publishing his well-known 'Storie Fiorentine,' which was not given to the world till 1721, a period which appears to have roused the slumbers of the literary men of Italy to recur to their native historians. Varchi, who wrote with so much zeal the history of his father-land, is noticed by Nardi as one who never took an active part in the events he records; never having combined with any party, and living merely as a spectator. This historian closes the narrative of a horrid crime of Peter Lewis Farnese with this admirable reflection: 'I know well this story, with many others which I have freely exposed, may hereafter prevent the reading of my history; but also I know, that besides what Tacitus has said on this subject, the great duty of an historian is not to be more careful of the reputation of persons than is suitable with truth, which is to be preferred to all things, however detrimental it may be to the writer.'*

Such was that free manner of thinking and of writing which prevailed in these Italian historians, who, often living in the midst of the ruins of popular freedon, poured forth their injured feelings in their secret pages; without the hope, and perhaps without the wish, of seeing them published in their life-time: a glorious example of selfdenial and lofty patriotism!

Had it been inquired of these writers why they did not publish their histories, they might have answered, in nearly the words of an ancient sago, 'Because I am not permitted to write as I would; and I would not write as I am permitted.' We cannot imagine that these great men were in the least insensible to the applause they denied themselves; they were not of tempers to be turned aside; and it was the highest motive which can inspire an histo rian, a stern devotion to truth, which reduced them to silence, but not to inactivity! These Florentine and Venetian historians, ardent with truth, and profound in political sagacity, were solely writing these legacies of history for their countrymen, hopeless of their gratitude! If a Frenchman wrote the English history, that labour was the aliment of his own glory; if Hume and Robertson devoted their pens to history, the motive of the task was less glorious than their work; but here we discover a race of historians, whose patriotism alone instigated their secret labour, and who substituted for fame and fortune that mightier spirit, which, amidst their conflicting passions, has developed the truest principles, and even the errors, of Political Freedom!

None of these historians, we have seen, published their works in their life-time. I have called them the saints of history, rather than the martyrs. One, however, had the intrepidity to risk this awful responsibility, and he stands

My friend Merivale, whose critical research is only equal. led by the elegance of his taste, has supplied me with a note which proves, but too well, that even writers who compose uninfluenced by party feelings, may not, however, be suffi ciently scrupulous in weighing the evidence of the facts which they collect. Mr Merivale observes, The strange and im probable narrative with which Varchi has the misfortune of closing his history, should not have been even hinted at without adding, that it is denounced by other writers as a most im. pude t forgery, inverted years after the occurrence is supposed to have happened, by the "Apostate" bishop Petrus Paulus Vergerius. See its refutation in Amiani, Hist. di Fano II, 149 et seq. 160.

Varchi's character, as an historian, cannot but suffer greatly from his having given it insertion on such authority. The responsibility of an author for the truth of what he relates should render us very cautious of giving credit to the writers of memoirs not intended to see the light till a distant period. The credibility of Vergerius, as an acknowledged libeller of Pope Paul III, and his family, appears still more conclusively from his article in Bayle, note K. It must be added, that the calumny of Vergerius may be found in Wolfins's Lect. Mem. JI, 691, in a tract de Idolo Lauretano, published 1556. Varchi is more particular in his details of this monstrous tale. Vergerius's libels, universally read at the time, though they were Collected afterwards, are now not to be met with, even in public libraries Whether there was any truth in the story of Peter Lewis Farnese I know not; but crimes of as monstrous a die occur in the authentic Guicciardini. The story is not yet forgotten, since in the last edition of Haym's Biblioteca Italiana, the best edition is marked as that which at p. 639 contains lagceleratezza di Pier Lewis Farnese. I am of opinion that Varchi believed the story, by the solemnity of his proposition. Whatever be its truth, the historian's feeling was elevated and intrepid.

forth among the most illustrious and ill-fated examples of historical martyrdom!

This great historian is Giannone, whose civil history of the kingdom of Naples is remarkable for its profound inquiries concerning the civil and ecclesiastical constitu tion, the laws and customs of that kingdom. With some interruptions from his professional avocations at the bar, twenty years were consumed in writing this history. Researches on ecclesiastical usurpations, and severe strictures on the clergy, are the chief subjects of his bold and unreserved pen. These passages, curious, grave and in dignant, were afterwards extracted from the history by Vernet, and published in a small volume, under the title of Anecdotes Ecclesiastiques,' 1738. When Giannone consulted with a friend on the propriety of publishing his history, his critic, in admiring the work, predicted the fate of the author. You have,' said he, placed on your head a crown of thorns, and of very sharp ones; the his torian set at naught his own personal repose; and in 1723 this elaborate history saw the light. From that moment the historian never enjoyed a day of quiet! Rome altempted at first to extinguish the author with his work; all the books were seized on; and copies of the first edition are of extreme rarity. To escape the fangs of inquisito rial power, the historian of Naples flew from Naples on the publication of his immortal work. The fugitive and excommunicated author sought an asylum at Vienna, where, though he found no friend in the emperor, prince Eugene and other nobles became his patrons. Forced to quit Vienna, he retired to Venice, when a new persecution arose from the jealousy of the state inquisitors, who one night landed him on the borders of the pope's dominions. Escaping unexpectedly with his life to Geneva, he was preparing a supplemental volume to his celebrated history, when, enticed by a treacherous friend to a catholic village, Giannone was arrested by an order of the king of Sardinia; his manuscripts were sent to Rome, and the historian imprisoned in a fort. It is curious that the im prisoned Giannone wrote a vindication of the rights of the king of Sardinia, against the claims of the court of Rome. This powerful appeal to the feelings of this sovereign was at first favourably received; but, under the secret influence of Rome, the Sardinian monarch, on the extraordi nary plea that he kept Giannone as a prisoner of state that he might preserve him from the papal power, ordered that the vindicator of his rights should be more closely confined than before! and, for this purpose, transferred his state-prisoner to the Citadel of Turin, where, after twelve years of persecution and of agitation, our great historian closed his life!

Such was the fate of this historical martyr, whose work the catholic Haym describes as opera scritta con molte fuoco e troppa liberta. He hints that this History is only paralleled by De Thou's great work. This Italian history will ever be ranked among the most philosophical. But, profound as was the masculine genius of Giannone, such was his love of fame, that he wanted the intrepidity requi site to deny himself the delight of giving his history to the world, though some of his great predecessors had set him a noble and dignified example.

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One more observation on these Italian historians. All of them represent man in his darkest colours; their drama is terrific; the actors are monsters of perfidy, of inhumanity, and inventors of crimes which seem to want a name! They were all princes of darkness;' and the age seemed to afford a triumph to Manicheism! The worst passions were called into play by all parties. But if something is to be ascribed to the manners of the times, much more may be traced to that science of politics, which sought for mastery in an undefinable struggle of ungovern able political power; in the remorseless ambition of the despots, and the hatreds and jealousies of the republics. These Italian historians have formed a perpetual satire on the contemptible simulation and dissimulation, and the inexpiable crimes of that system of politics, which has derived a name from one of themselves-the great, may we add, the calumniated, Machiavel?

OF PALACES BUILT BY MINISTERS. Our ministers and court favourites, as well as those on the continent, practised a very impolitic custom, and one likely to be repeated, although it has never failed to cast a popular odium on their name, exciting even the envy of their equals in the erection of palaces for themselves,

LITERATURE.

hich outvied those of the sovereign; and which, to the yes of the populace, appeared as a perpetual and insoent exhibition of what they deemed the ill-earned wages fpeculation, oppression, and court-favour. We discover he seduction of this passion for ostentation, this haughty ense of their power, and this self-idolatry, even among he most prudent and the wisest of our ministers; and not one but lived to lament over this vain act of imprudence. To these ministers the noble simplicity of Pitt will ever Torm an admirable contrast; while his personal character, as a statesman, descends to posterity, unstained by caTumny.

The houses of Cardinal Wolsey appear to have exceedCargreat ed the palaces of the sovereign in magnificence; and popomp, the tent as he was in all the pride of Idinal' found rabid envy pursuing him so close at his heels, that he relinquished one palace after the other, and gave The state up as gifts to the monarch, what, in all his overgrown greatness, he trembled to retain for himself. satire of that day was often pointed at this very circumstance, as appears in Skilton's 'Why come ye not to Court? and Roy's 'Rede me, and be not wrothe.' Skelton's railing rhymes leave their bitter teeth in his purple pride; and the style of both these satirists, if we use our own orthography, shows how little the language of the common people has varied during three centuries.

Set up the wretch on high
In a throne triumphantly;
Make him a great state
And he will play check-mate
With royal majesty-
The King's Court

Should have the excellence,
But Hampton Court
Hath the pre-eminence;
And York's Place

With my Lord's grace.
To whose magnificence
Is all the confluence,
Suits, and supplications;
Embassies of all nations.

Roy, in contemplating the palace, is maliciously re-
minded of the butcher's lad, and only gives plain sense in
plain words.

Hath the Cardinal any gay mansion?
Great palaces without comparison,
Most glorious of outward sight,
And within decked point-device, *
More like unto a paradise

Than an earthly habitation.

He cometh then of some noble stock?
His father could match a bullock,
A butcher by his occupation.

Whatever we may now think of the structure, and the
low apartments of Wolsey's palace, it is described not
only in his own times, but much later, as of unparalleled
magnificence; and indeed Cavendish's narrative of the
Cardinal's entertainment of the French ambassadors,
gives an idea of the ministerial-prelate's imperial esta-
blishment, very puzzling to the comprehension of a mo-
dern inspector. Six hundred persons, I think, were ban-
queted and slept in an abode which appears to us so mean,
but which Stowe calls so stately a palace.' To avoid
the odium of living in this splendid edifice, Wolsey pre-
sented it to the king, who, in recompense, suffered the
Cardinal occasionally to inhabit this wonder of England,
in the character of keeper of the king's palace; so that
Wolsey only dared to live in his own palace by a subter-
fuge! This perhaps was a tribute which minsterial
haughtiness paid to popular feeling, or to the jealousy of a
royal master.

I have elsewhere shown the extraordinary elegance and
prodigality of expenditure of Buckingham's residences;
they were such as to have extorted the wonder, even of

Point-device, a term ingeniously explained by my learned
friend Mr Douce. He thinks that it is borrowed from the la
bours of the needle, as we have point-lace, so point-device, i.
e. point. a stitch, and devise, devised or invented; applied to
describe any thing uncommonly exact, or worked with the
niety and precision of stitches made or devised by the needle.
-Illustrations of Shakspeare, 1, 93. But Mr Gifford has since
observed that the origin of the expression is, perhaps, yet to
be sought for; he derives it from a mathematical phrase, a
point devise, or a given point, and hence exact, correct, &c.
Ben Jonson, Vol. IV, 170. See for various examples-Mr
Narea's Glossary, Art. Point-devise.
+ Lyson's Environs v. 58.

Bassompierre, and unquestionably excited the indignation
of those who lived in a poor court, while our gay and
thoughtless minister alone could indulge in the wanton pro-
fusion.

But Wolsey and Buckingham were ambitious and ad-
venturous; they rose and shone the comets of the political
horizon of Europe. The Roman tiara still haunted the
having out-rivalled Richelieu and Olivarez, the nominal
imagination of the Cardinal: and the egotistic pride of
ministers but the real sovereigns of Europe, kindled the
buoyant spirits of the gay, the gallant, and the splendid
Villiers. But what folly of the wise' must account for
the conduct of the profound Clarendon, and the sensible
Sir Robert Walpole, who, like the other two ministers,
equally became the victims of this imprudent passion for
the ostentatious pomp of a palace. This magnificence look-
ed like the vaunt of insolence in the eyes of the people,
and covered the ministers with a popular odium.

Clarendon House is now only to be viewed in a print;
but its story remains to be told. It was built on the site
of Grafton-street; and when afterwards purchased by
Monk, the Duke of Albemarle, he left his title to that
well known-street. It was an edifice of considerable ex-
tent and grandeur. Clarendon reproaches himself in his
life for his weakness and vanity,' in the vast expense in-
curred in this building, which he acknowledges had 'more
contributed to that gust of envy that had so violently sha-
ken him, than any misdemeanor that he was thought to
have been guilty of.' It ruined his estate; but he had
been encouraged to it by the royal grant of the land, by
that passion for building to which he owns 'he was natu-
rally too much inclined,' and perhaps by other circum-
stances, among which was the opportunity of purchasing
the stones which had been designed for the rebuilding of
St Paul's: but the envy it drew on him, and the excess
of the architect's proposed expense, had made his life
'very uneasy, and near insupportable.' The truth is,
that when this palace was finished, it was imputed to him
as a state-crime; all the evils in the nation, which were
then numerous, pestilence, conflagration, war, and defeats,
were discovered to be in some way connected with Claren-
don-house; or, as it was popularly called, either Dunkirk-
House, or Tangier-Hall, from a notion that it had been
erected with the golden bribery which the chancellor had
received for the sale of Dunkirk and Tangiers. He was re-
proached with having profaned the sacred stones dedicated
to the use of the church. The great but unfortunate mas-
ter of this palace, who, from a private lawyer, had raised
himself by alliance even to royalty, the father-in-law of
the Duke of York, it was maliciously suggested, had per-
suaded Charles the Second to marry the Infanta of Portu-
gal, knowing (but how Clarendon obtained the knowledge,
his enemies have not revealed) that the Portuguese Prín-
cess was not likely to raise any obstacle to the inheritance
of his own daughter to the throne. At the Restoration,
among other enemies, Clarendon found that the royalists
were none the least active; he was reproached by them
for preferring those who had been the cause of their late
troubles. The same reproach has been incurred in the
late restoration of the Bourbons. It is perhaps difficult
and more political to maintain active men, who have ob-
tained power, than to reinstate inferior talents, who at
least have not their popularity. This is one of the paral-
lel cases which so frequently strike us in exploring political
the royalists of Charles the Second. There was a strong
history; and the ultras of Louis the Eighteenth are only
who formed the court of Charles the Second, that the go-
popular delusion carried on by the wits and the Misses,
vernment was as much shared by the Hydes as the Stu-
arts. We have in the state-poems, an unsparing lampoon
entitled, Clarendon's House-warming; but a satire yield'
ing nothing in severity I have discovered in manuscript if
the family name of the Earl of Clarendon. The witty
and it is also remarkable for turning chiefly on a pun o
and malicious rhymer, after making Charles the Second
demand the great seal, and resolve to be his own chan-
cellor, proceeds, reflecting on the great political victim.

Lo! his whole ambition already divides
The sceptre between the Stuarts and the Hydes.
Behold, in the depth of our plague and wars,
He built him a palace out-braves the stars;
Which house (we Dunkirk, he Clarendon, names
Looks down with shame upon St James;
But 'tis not his golden globe that will save him,

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