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AN ESSAY ON HISTORY. [Price 7s. 6d.]

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AN ESSAY ON HISTORY; IN THREE EPISTLES To EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. WITH NOTES.

[...]. POLYBIUS, Lib. ii.

BY WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. DODSLEY IN PALL-MALL. M.DCC.LXXX.

EPISTLE THE FIRST.
[]EPISTLE I.

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[]
ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST EPISTLE.

Introduction.—Relation Between Hiſtory and Poetry—Decline of the latter.—Subject of the preſent Poem ſlightly touched by the Ancients.—DIONYSIUS—LUCIAN.—Importance and advantage of Hiſtory—its origin—ſubſequent to that of Poetry—diſguiſed in its infancy by Prieſtcraft and Superſtition—brought from EGYPT into GREECE.— Scarcity of great Hiſtorians—Perfect compoſition not to be expected.—Addreſs to Hiſtory, and Characters of many ancient Hiſtorians—HERODOTUS—THUCYDIDES —XENOPHON — POLYBIUS — SALLUST—LIVY — TACITUS.—Biography—PLUTARCH.—Baleful influence of deſpotic power — AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS—ANNA COMNENA.

HIGH in the world of Letters, and of Wit,
Enthron'd like JOVE, behold Opinion ſit!
As ſymbols of her ſway, on either hand
Th' unfailing urns of Praiſe and Cenſure ſtand*;
Their mingled ſtreams her motley ſervants ſhed
On each bold Author's ſelf-devoted head.
On thee, O GIBBON! in whoſe ſplendid page
ROME ſhines majeſtic 'mid the woes of age,
Miſtaken Zeal, wrapt in a prieſtly pall,
Has from the baſer urn pour'd darkeſt gall:
Theſe ſtains to Learning would a Bard efface
With tides of glory from the golden vaſe,
[4]But that he feels this nobler taſk require
A ſpirit glowing with congenial fire—
A VIRGIL only may uncenſur'd aim
To ſing in equal verſe a LIVY's fame:
Yet while Polemics, in fierce league combin'd,
With ſavage diſcord vex thy feeling mind;
And with a pure Religion's juſt defence,
Blend groſs detraction and perverted ſenſe;
Thy wounded ear may haply not refuſe
The ſoothing accents of an humbler Muſe.
The lovely Science, whoſe attractive air
Derives new charms from thy devoted care,
Is near ally'd to that bewitching Art,
Which reigns the idol of the Poet's heart.
Tho' ſiſter Goddeſſes, thy guardian maid
Shines in the robe of freſher youth array'd,
Like PALLAS recent from the brain of JOVE,
When Strength with Beauty in her features ſtrove;
While elder Poeſy, in every clime
The flower of earlieſt fall, has paſt her prime:
[5]The bloom, which her autumnal cheeks ſupply,
Palls on the Public's philoſophic eye.
But tho' no more with Fancy's ſtrong controul
Her Epic wonders faſcinate the ſoul;
With humbler hopes, ſhe wiſhes ſtill to pleaſe
By moral elegance, and labour'd eaſe:
Like other Prudes, leaves Beauty's loſt pretence,
And ſtrives to charm by Sentiment and Senſe.
Yet deaf to Envy's voice, and Pride's alarms,
She loves the rival, who eclips'd her charms;
Safe in thy favour, ſhe would fondly ſtray
Round the wide realm, which owns that Siſter's ſway,
Sing the juſt fav'rites of hiſtoric fame,
And mark their pureſt laws and nobleſt aim.
My eyes with joy this pathleſs field explore,
Croſs'd by no ROMAN Bard, no GREEKS of yore.
Thoſe mighty Lords of literary ſway
Have paſs'd this province with a ſlight ſurvey:
E'en He, whoſe bold and comprehenſive mind
Immortal rules to Poeſy aſſign'd,
[6]High Prieſt of Learning! has not fix'd apart
The laws and limits of hiſtoric Art:
Yet one excelling GREEK in later days,
The happy teacher of harmonious phraſe,
Whoſe patient fingers all the threads untwine,
Which in the myſtic chain of Muſic join;
Strict DIONYSIUS, of ſevereſt Taſte,
Has juſtly ſome hiſtoric duties trac'd,
And ſome pure precepts into practice brought,
Th' Hiſtorian proving what the Critic taught.
And LUCIAN! thou, of Humour's ſons ſupreme!
Haſt touch'd with livelieſt art this tempting theme.
When in the ROMAN world, corrupt and vain,
Hiſtoric Fury madden'd every brain;
When each baſe GREEK indulg'd his frantic dream,
And roſe a § XENOPHON in ſelf-eſteem;
Thy Genius ſatyriz'd the ſcribbling ſlave,
And to the liberal pen juſt leſſons gave:
[7]O ſkill'd to ſeaſon, in proportion fit,
Severer wiſdom with thy ſportive wit!
Breathe thy ſtrong power! thy ſprightly grace infuſe
In the bold efforts of no ſervile Muſe,
If ſhe tranſplant ſome lively flower, that throws
Immortal ſweetneſs o'er thy Attic Proſe!
In Egypt * once a dread tribunal ſtood;
Offspring of Wiſdom! ſource of Public Good!
Before this Seat, by holy Juſtice rear'd,
The mighty Dead, in ſolemn pomp, appear'd;
For 'till its ſentence had their rights expos'd,
The hallow'd portals of the tomb were clos'd;
A ſculptur'd form of Truth the Judges wore,
A ſacred emblem of the charge they bore!
The claims of Virtue their pure voice expreſt,
And bade the opening grave receive its honor'd gueſt.
In ſuch a court, array'd in Judgment's robe,
With powers extenſive as the peopled Globe;
[8]To her juſt bar impartial Hiſt'ry brings
The gorgeous group of Stateſmen, Heroes, Kings;
With all whoſe minds, out-ſhining ſplendid birth,
Attract the notice of th' enlighten'd earth.
From artful Pomp ſhe ſtrips the proud diſguiſe
That flaſh'd deluſion in admiring eyes;
To injur'd Worth gives Glory's wiſh reward,
And blazons Virtue in her bright record:
Nature's clear Mirror! Life's inſtructive Guide!
Her Wiſdom ſour'd by no preceptive Pride!
Age from her leſſon forms its wiſeſt aim,
And youthful Emulation ſprings to Fame.
Yet thus adorn'd with nobleſt powers, deſign'd
To charm, correct, and elevate mankind,
From darkeſt Time her humble Birth ſhe drew,
And ſlowly into Strength and Beauty grew;
As mighty ſtreams, that roll with gather'd force,
Spring feebly forth from ſome ſequeſter'd ſource.
The fond deſire to paſs the nameleſs crowd,
Swept from the earth in dark Oblivion's cloud;
[9]Of tranſient life to leave ſome little trace,
And win remembrance from the riſing race;
Led early Chiefs to make their proweſs known
By the rude ſymbol on the artleſs ſtone:
And, long ere man the wondrous ſecret found
To paint the voice, and fix the fleeting ſound,
The infant Muſe, ambitious at her birth,*
Roſe the young herald of heroic worth.
The tuneful record of her oral praiſe,
The Sire's atchievements to the Son conveys:
Keen Emulation, wrapt in trance ſublime,
Drinks with retentive ear the potent rhyme;
And faithful Memory, from affection ſtrong,
Spreads the rich torrent of her martial ſong.
Letters at length ariſe; but envious Night
Conceals their bleſt Inventor from our ſight.
O'er the wide earth his ſpreading bounty flew,
And ſwift thoſe precious ſeeds of Science grew;
[10]Thence quickly ſprung the Annal's artleſs frame,
Time its chief boaſt! and brevity its aim!
The Temple-wall preſerv'd a ſimple date,
And mark'd in plaineſt form the Monarch's fate.
But in the center of thoſe vaſt abodes,*
Whoſe mighty maſs the land of Egypt loads;
Where, in rude triumph over years unknown,
Gigantic Grandeur, from his ſpiry throne,
Seems to look down diſdainful, and deride
The poor, the pigmy toils of modern Pride;
In the cloſe covert of thoſe gloomy cells,
Where early Magic fram'd her venal ſpells,
Combining prieſts, from many an ancient tale,
Wove for their hallow'd uſe Religion's veil;
A wondrous texture! ſupple, rich, and broad,
To dazzle Folly, and to ſhelter Fraud!
This, as her caeſtus, Superſtition wore;
And ſaw th' enchanted world its powers adore:
[11]For in the myſtic web was every charm
To lure the timid, and the bold diſarm;
To win from eaſy Faith a blind eſteem,
And lull Devotion in a laſting dream.
The Sorcereſs, to ſpread her empire, dreſt
Hiſtory's young form in this illuſive veſt,
Whoſe infant voice repeated, as ſhe taught,
The motley fables on her mantle wrought;
Till Attic Freedom brought the Foundling home
From the dark cells of her Egyptian dome;
Drew by degrees th' oppreſſive veil aſide,
And, ſhewing the fair Nymph in nature's pride,
Taught her to ſpeak, with all the fire of youth,
The words of Wiſdom in the tone of Truth;
To catch the paſſing ſhew of public life,
And paint immortal ſcenes of Grecian ſtrife.
Inchanting Athens! oft as Learning calls
Our fond attention to thy foſt'ring walls,
Still with freſh joy thy glories we explore,
With new idolatry thy charms adore.
[12]Bred in thy boſom, the Hiſtorian caught
The warmeſt glow of elevated thought.
Yet while thy triumphs to his eye diſplay,
The nobleſt ſcene his pencil can portray;
While thy rich language, grac'd by every Muſe,
Supplies the brighteſt tints, his hand can uſe;
How few, O Athens! can thy genius raiſe
To the bright ſummit of hiſtoric praiſe!
But ſuch hard fortunes human hopes attend:
Tho' to each Science many myriads bend,
Each gives, and with a coy, reluctant hand,
Her badge of honor to a choſen band.
Pure, faultleſs writing, like tranſmuted gold,
Mortals may wiſh, but never ſhall behold:
Let Genius ſtill this glorious object own,
And ſeek Perfection's philoſophic ſtone!
For while the mind, in ſtudy's toilſome hours,
Tries on the long reſearch her latent powers,
New wonders riſe, to pay her patient thought,
Inferior only to the prize ſhe ſought.
[13]But idle Pride no arduous labor ſees,
And deems th' Hiſtorian's toil a taſk of eaſe:
Yet, if ſurvey'd by Judgment's ſteady lamp,
How few are juſtly grac'd with Glory's ſtamp!
Tho' more theſe volumes, than the ruthleſs mind
Of the fierce OMAR to the flames conſign'd,*
When Learning ſaw the ſavage with a ſmile
Devote her offspring to the blazing pile!
O Hiſtory! whoſe pregnant mines impart
Unfailing treaſures to poetic art;
The Epic gem, and thoſe of darker hues,
Whoſe trembling luſtre decks the tragic Muſe;
If, juſtly conſcious of thy powers, I raiſe
A votive tablet to record thy praiſe,
That ancient temple to my view unfold,
Where thy firſt Sons, on Glory's liſt enroll'd,
To Fancy's eye, in living forms, appear,
And fill with Freedom's notes the raptur'd ear!—
[14]The dome expands!—Behold th' Hiſtoric Sire!*
Ionic roſes mark his ſoft attire;
Bold in his air, but graceful in his mien
As the fair figure of his favour'd Queen,
When her proud galley ſham'd the Perſian van,
And grateful XERXES own'd her more than man!
Soft as the ſtream, whoſe dimpling waters play,
And wind in lucid lapſe their pleaſurable way,
His rich, Homeric elocution flows,
For all the Muſes modulate his proſe:
Tho' blind Credulity his ſtep miſleads
Thro' the dark miſt of her Egyptian meads,
Yet when return'd, with patriot paſſions warm,
He paints the progreſs of the Perſian ſtorm,
In Truth's illumin'd field, his labours rear
A trophy worthy of the Spartan ſpear:
His eager country, in th' Olympic vale,
Throngs with proud joy to catch the martial tale.
[15]Behold! where Valour, reſting on his lance,
Drinks the ſweet ſound in rapture's ſilent trance,
Then, with a grateful ſhout of fond acclaim,
Hails the juſt herald of his country's fame!—
But mark the Youth, in dumb delight immers'd!12
See the proud tear of emulation burſt!
O faithful ſign of a ſuperior ſoul!
Thy prayer is heard:—'tis thine to reach the goal.
See! bleſt OLORUS! fee the palm is won!
Sublimity and Wiſdom crown thy Son:
His the rich prize, that caught his early gaze,
Th' eternal treaſure of increaſing praiſe!
Pure from the ſtain of favor, or of hate,
His nervous line unfolds the deep Debate;
Explores the ſeeds of War; with matchleſs force
Draws Diſcord, ſpringing from Ambition's ſource,
With all her Demagogues, who murder Peace,
In the fierce ſtruggles of contentious Greece.
[16]Stript by Ingratitude of juſt command—
Above reſentment to a thankleſs land,
Above all envy, rancour, pride, and ſpleen,
In exile patient, in diſgrace ſerene,
And proud to celebrate, as Truth inſpires,
Each patriot Hero, that his ſoul admires—
The deep-ton'd trumpet of renown he blows,
In ſage retirement 'mid the Thracian ſnows.
But to untimely ſilence Fate devotes
Thoſe lips, yet trembling with imperfect notes,
And baſe Oblivion threatens to devour
Ev'n this firſt offspring of hiſtoric power.
A generous guardian of a rival's fame,*
Mars the dark Fiend in this malignant aim:
Accompliſh'd XENOPHON! thy truth has ſhewn
A brother's glory ſacred as thy own:
O rich in all the blended gifts, that grace
Minerva's darling ſons of Attic race!
[17]The Sage's olive, the Hiſtorian's palm,
The Victor's laurel, all thy name embalm!
Thy ſimple diction, free from glaring art,
With ſweet allurement ſteals upon the heart,
Pure, as the rill, that Nature's hand refines;
Clear, as thy harmony of ſoul, it ſhines.
Two paſſions there by ſoft contention pleaſe,
The love of martial Fame, and learned Eaſe:
Theſe friendly colours, exquiſitely join'd,
Form the inchanting picture of thy mind.
Thine was the praiſe, bright models to afford
To CAESAR's rival pen, and rival ſword:
Bleſt, had Ambition not deſtroy'd his claim
To the mild luſtre of thy purer fame!
Thou pride of Greece! in thee her triumphs end:
And Roman chiefs in borrow'd pomp aſcend.
Rome's haughty genius, who enſlav'd the Greek,*
In Grecian language deigns at firſt to ſpeak:
By ſlow degrees her ruder tongue ſhe taught
To tell the wonders that her valour wrought;
[18]And her hiſtoric hoſt, with envious eye,
View in their glittering van a Greek ally.
Thou Friend of SCIPIO! vers'd in War's alarms!*
Torn from thy wounded country's ſtruggling arms!
And doom'd in Latian boſoms to inſtill
Thy moral virtue, and thy martial ſkill!
Pleas'd, in reſearches of elaborate length,
To trace the fibres of the Roman ſtrength!
O highly perfect in each nobler part,
The Sage's wiſdom, and the Soldier's art!
This richer half of Grecian praiſe is thine:
But o'er thy ſtyle the ſlighted Graces pine,
And tir'd Attention toils thro' many a maze,
To reach the purport of thy doubtful phraſe:
Yet large are his rewards, whoſe toils engage
To clear the ſpirit of thy cloudy page;
Like Indian fruit, its rugged rind contains
Thoſe milky ſweets that pay the ſearcher's pains.
But Rome's proud Genius, with exulting claim,
Points to her rivals of the Grecian name!
[19]Sententious SALLUST leads her lofty train;*
Clear, tho' concife, elaborately plain,
Poiſing his ſcale of words with frugal care,
Nor leaving one ſuperfluous atom there!
Yet well diſplaying, in a narrow ſpace,
Truth's native ſtrength, and Nature's eaſy grace;
Skill'd to detect, in tracing Action's courſe,
The hidden motive, and the human ſource.
His lucid brevity the palm has won,
By Rome's deciſion, from OLORUS' Son.
Of mightier ſpirit, of majeſtic frame,
With powers proportion'd to the Roman fame,
When Rome's fierce Eagle his broad wings unfurl'd,
And ſhadow'd with his plumes the ſubject world,
In bright pre-eminence, that Greece might own,
Sublimer LIVY claims th' Hiſtoric throne;
With that rich Eloquence, whoſe golden light
Brings the full ſcene diſtinctly to the ſight;
[20]That Zeal for Truth, which Intereſt cannot bend,
That Fire, which Freedom ever gives her friend.
Immortal artiſt of a work ſupreme!
Delighted Rome beheld, with proud eſteem,
Her own bright image, of Coloſſal ſize,
From thy long toils in pureſt marble riſe.
But envious Time, with a malignant ſtroke,
This ſacred ſtatue into fragments broke;
In Lethe's ſtream its nobler portions ſunk,
And left Futurity the wounded trunk.
Yet, like the matchleſs, mutilated frame,*
To which great ANGELO bequeath'd his name,
This glorious ruin, in whoſe ſtrength we find
The ſplendid vigour of the Sculptor's mind,
In the fond eye of Admiration ſtill
Rivals the finiſh'd forms of modern ſkill.
Next, but, O LIVY! as unlike to thee,
As the pent river to th' expanding ſea,
[21]Sarcaſtic TACITUS, abrupt and dark,*
In moral anger forms the keen remark;
Searching the ſoul with microſcopic power,
To mark the latent worm that mars the flower.
His Roman voice, in baſe degenerate days,
Spoke to Imperial Pride in Freedom's praiſe;
And with indignant hate, ſeverely warm,
Shew'd to gigantic Guilt his ghaſtly form!
There are, whoſe cenſures to his Style aſſign
A ſubtle ſpirit, rigid and malign;
Which magnified each monſter that he drew,
And gave the darkeſt vice a deeper hue:
Yet his ſtrong pencil ſhews the gentleſt heart,
In one ſweet ſketch of Biographic art,
Whoſe ſofteſt tints, by filial love combin'd,
Form the pure image of his Father's mind.
O bleſt Biography! thy charms of yore
Hiſtoric Truth to ſtrong Affection bore,
[22]And foſt'ring Virtue gave thee as thy dower,
Of both thy Parents the attractive power;
To win the heart, the wavering thought to fix,
And fond delight with wiſe inſtruction mix.
Firſt of thy votaries, peerleſs, and alone,
Thy PLUTARCH ſhines, by moral beauty known:*
Enchanting Sage! whoſe living leſſons teach,
What heights of Virtue human efforts reach.
Tho' oft thy Pen, eccentrically wild,
Ramble, in Learning's various maze beguil'd;
Tho' in thy Style no brilliant graces ſhine,
Nor the clear conduct of correct Deſign,
Thy every page is uniformly bright
With mild Philanthropy's diviner light.
Of gentleſt manners, as of mind elate,
Thy happy Genius had the glorious fate
To regulate, with Wiſdom's ſoft controul,
The ſtrong ambition of a TRAJAN's ſoul.
[23]But O! how rare benignant Virtue ſprings,
In the blank boſom of deſpotic kings!
Thou bane of liberal Knowledge! Nature's curſe!
Parent of Miſery! pamper'd Vice's nurſe!
Plunging, by thy annihilating breath,
The ſoul of Genius in the trance of death!
Unbounded Power! beneath thy baleful ſway,
The voice of Hiſt'ry ſinks in dumb decay.
Still in thy gloomy reign one martial Greek,
In Rome's corrupted language dares to ſpeak;
Mild MARCELLINUS! free from ſervile awe!*
A faithful painter of the woes he ſaw;
Forc'd by the meanneſs of his age to join
Adulterate Colours with his juſt Deſign!
The ſlighted Attic Muſe no more ſupplies
Her pencil, dipt in Nature's pureſt dies;
And Roman Emulation, at a ſtand,
Drops the blurr'd pallet from her palſy'd hand.
[24]But while Monaſtic Night, with gathering ſhades,
The ruin'd realm of Hiſtory invades;
While, pent in CONSTANTINE's ill-fated walls,
The mangled form of Roman Grandeur falls;
And, like a Gladiator on the ſand,
Props his faint body with a dying hand;
While ſavage Turks, or the fierce Sons of Thor,
Wage on the Arts a wild Titanian war;
While manly Knowledge hides his radiant head,
As Jove in terror from the Titans fled;
See! in the lovely charms of female youth,
A ſecond Pallas guards the throne of Truth!
And, with COMNENA's royal name impreſt,*
The zone of Beauty binds her Attic veſt!
Fair ſtar of Wiſdom! whoſe unrival'd light
Breaks thro' the ſtormy cloud of thickeſt night;
Tho' in the purple of proud miſery nurſt,
From thoſe oppreſſive bands thy ſpirit burſt;
[25]Pleas'd, in thy public labours, to forget
The keen domeſtic pangs of fond regret!
Pleas'd to preſerve, from Time's deſtructive rage,
A Father's virtues in thy faithful page!
Too pure of ſoul to violate, or hide
Th' Hiſtorian's duty in the Daughter's pride!
Tho' baſe Oblivion long with envious hand
Hid the fair volume which thy virtue plann'd,
It ſhines, redeem'd from Ruin's darkeſt hour,
A wond'rous monument of Female power;
While conſcious Hiſt'ry, careful of thy fame,
Ranks in her Attic band thy filial name,
And ſees, on Glory's ſtage, thy graceful mien
Cloſe the long triumph of her ancient ſcene!
END OF THE FIRST EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE SECOND.
[]EPISTLE II.

[]
‘Sunt et alii Scriptores boni: ſed nos genera deguſtamus, non bibliothecas excutimus.’QUINTIL. Lib. x.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.

Defects of the Monkiſh Hiſtorians — our obligations to the beſt of them.—Contraſt between two of the moſt fabulous, and two of the moſt rational.—Indulgence due to Writers of the dark Ages.—Slow Progreſs of the human Mind.— Chivalry. — FROISSART. — Revival of ancient Learning under LEO X.—Hiſtorians in Italy, MACHIAVEL, GUICCIARDIN, DAVILA, and Father PAUL — in Portugal, OSORIUS—in Spain, MARIANA—in France, THUANUS. —Praiſe of Toleration.—VOLTAIRE.—Addreſs to England.—CLARENDON—BURNET—RAPIN—HUME—LYTTELTON. — Reaſon for not attempting to deſcribe any living Hiſtorian.

AS eager Foſſiliſts with ardour pore
On the flat margin of the pebbled ſhore,
Hoping ſome curious Shell, or Coral-root,
May pay the labours of their long purſuit;
And yield their hand the pleaſure to diſplay
Nature's neglected Gems in nice array:
So, GIBBON! toils the mind, whoſe labour wades
Thro' the dull Chronicle's monaſtic ſhades,
To pick from that drear coaſt, with learned care,
New ſhells of Knowledge, thinly ſcatter'd there;
Who patient hears, while cloiſter'd Dullneſs tells
The lying legend of her murky cells;
[30]Or ſtrangely mingles, in her phraſe uncouth,
Diſguſting Lies with unimportant Truth:
How Biſhops give (each tort'ring Fiend o'ercome)
Life to the faint, and language to the dumb:
How ſainted Kings renounce, with holy dread,*
The chaſte endearments of their marriage-bed:
How Nuns, entranc'd, to joys celeſtial mount,
Made drunk with rapture from a ſacred fount:
How cunning Prieſts their dying Lord cajole,
And take his riches to enſure his ſoul:
While he endows them, in his pious will,
With thoſe dear gifts, the Meadow, and the Mill,
They wiſely chronicle his Spirit's health,
And give him Virtue in return for Wealth.
So Hiſt'ry ſinks, by Hypocrites depreſt,
In the coarſe habit of the cloiſter dreſt;
While her weak Sons that noxious air imbibe,
Such are the tales of their monaſtic tribe!
[31]But let not Pride, with blind contempt, arraign
Each early Writer in that humble train!
No! let the Muſe, a friend to every claim,
That marks the Candidate for honeſt fame,
Be juſt to patient Worth, ſeverely ſunk,
And paint the merits of the modeſt Monk!
Ye purer minds! who ſtopt, with native force,
Barbaric Ignorance's brutal courſe;
Who, in the field of Hiſt'ry, dark and waſte,
Your ſimple path with ſteady patience trac'd;
Bleſt be your labours! and your virtues bleſt!
Tho' paid with inſult, and with ſcorn oppreſt,
Ye reſcu'd Learning's lamp from total night,
And ſav'd with anxious toil the trembling light,
In the wild ſtorm of that tempeſtuous time,
When Superſtition cheriſh'd every crime;
When meaner Prieſts pronounc'd with falt'ring tongue,
Nor knew to read the jargon which they ſung;
When Nobles, train'd like blood-hounds to deſtroy,
In ruthleſs rapine plac'd their ſavage joy;
[32]And Monarchs wanted ev'n the ſkill to frame
The letters that compos'd their mighty name.
How ſtrong the mind, that, try'd by ills like theſe,
Could write untainted with the Time's diſeaſe!
That, free from Folly's lie, and Fraud's pretence,
Could riſe to ſimple Truth, and ſober Senſe!
Such minds exiſted in the darkeſt hour
Of blind Barbarity's debaſing power.
If mitred TURPIN told, in wildeſt ſtrain,*
Of giant-feats atchiev'd by CHARLEMAIN;
Of ſpears, that bloſſom'd like the flowery thorn,
Of ROLAND's magic ſword, and ivory horn,
Whoſe ſound was waſted by an angel's wing,
In notes of anguiſh, to his diſtant king;
Yet modeſt AEGINHARD, with grateful care,
In purer colours, and with Nature's air,
Has drawn diſtinctly, in his clear record,
A juſter portrait of this mighty Lord,
[33]Whoſe forceful lance, againſt the Pagan hurl'd,
Shone the bright terror of a barbarous world.
Nor on his maſter does he idly ſhower
The prieſtly gifts of ſupernat'ral Power:
This candid Scribe of Gratitude and Truth,
Correctly paints the Patron of his youth,
Th' imperial Savage, whoſe unletter'd mind
Was active, ſtrong, beneficent, and kind;
Who, tho' he lov'd the Learned to requite,
Knew not that ſimpleſt art, the art to write.
If Britiſh GEFFREY fill'd his motley page*
With MERLIN's ſpells, and UTHER's amorous rage;
With fables from the field of Magic glean'd,
Giant and Dragon, Incubus and Fiend;
Yet Life's great drama, and the Deeds of men,
Sage Monk of Malm'ſbury! engaged thy pen.
Nor vainly doſt thou plead, in modeſt phraſe,
Thy manly paſſion for ingenuous praiſe:
[34]'Twas thine the labours of thy Sires to clear
From Fiction's harden'd ſpots, with toil ſevere;
To form, with eyes intent on public life,
Thy bolder ſketches of internal ſtrife;
And warmly celebrate, with love refin'd,
The rich endowments of thy GLO'STER's mind;
May this, thy Praiſe, the Monkiſh pen exempt
From the ungenerous blame of blind Contempt!
Tho' Truth appear to make thy works her care,
The lurking Prodigy ſtill lingers there:
But let not cenſure on thy name be thrown
For errors, ſpringing from thy age alone!
Shame on the Critic! who, with idle ſcorn,
Depreciates Authors, in dark periods born,
Becauſe they want, irregularly bright,
That equal Knowledge, and that ſteadier Light,
Which Learning, in its wide meridian blaze,
Has haply laviſh'd on his luckier days!
In all its various paths, the human Mind
Feels the firſt efforts of its ſtrength confin'd;
[35]And in the field, where Hiſtory's laurels grow,
Winds its long march ſuperlatively ſlow:
Like Fruit, whoſe taſte to ſweet luxuriance runs
By conſtant ſuccour from autumnal ſuns,
This lovely Science ripens by degrees,
And late is faſhion'd into graceful eaſe.
In thoſe enlivening days, when Europe roſe
From the long preſſure of lethargic woes;
When the Provençal lyre, with roſes dreſt,
By ardent Love's extatic fingers preſt,
Wak'd into life the Genius of the Weſt;
When Chivalry, her banners all unfurl'd
Fill'd with heroic fire the ſplendid world;
In high-plum'd grandeur held her gorgeous reign,
And rank'd each brilliant Virtue in her train;
When ſhe imparted, by her magic glove,
To Honour ſtrength, and purity to Love;
New-moulded Nature on her nobleſt plan,
And gave freſh ſinews to the ſoul of man:
When the chief model of her forming hand,
Our ſable EDWARD, on the Gallic ſtrand,
[36]Diſplay'd that ſpirit which her laws beſtow,
And ſhone the idol of his captive foe:
Unbleſt with Arts, th' unletter'd age could yield
No ſkilful hand, to paint from Glory's field
Scenes, that Humanity with pride muſt hear,
And Admiration honour with a tear.
Yet Courteſy, with generous Valour join'd,
Fair Twins of Chivalry! rejoic'd to find
A faithful Chronicler in plain FROISSART;*
As rich in honeſty as void of art.
As the young Peaſant, led by ſpirits keen
To ſome great city's gay and gorgeous ſcene,
Returning, with increaſe of proud delight,
Dwells on the various ſplendor of the ſight;
And gives his tale, tho' told in terms uncouth,
The charm of Nature, and the force of Truth,
Tho' rude engaging; ſuch thy ſimple page
Seems, O FROISSART! to this enlighten'd age.
Proud of their ſpirit, in thy writings ſhewn,
Fair Faith and Honour mark thee for their own;
[37]Tho' oft the dupe of thoſe deluſive times,
Thy Genius, foſter'd with romantic rhymes,
Appears to play the legendary Bard,
And treſpaſs on the Truth it meant to guard.
Still ſhall thy Name, with laſting glory, ſtand
High on the liſt of that advent'rous band,
Who, bidding Hiſtory ſpeak a modern Tongue,
From her cramp'd hand the Monkiſh fetters flung,
While yet depreſs'd in Gothic night ſhe lay,
Nor ſaw th' approaching dawn of Attic day.
On the bleſt banks of Tiber's honoured ſtream
Shone the firſt glance of that reviving beam;
Enlighten'd Pontiffs, on the very ſpot
Where Science was proſcrib'd, and Senſe forgot;
Bade Learning ſtart from out her mould'ring tomb,
And taught new laurels on her brow to bloom;
Their Magic voice invok'd all Arts, and all
Sprung into glory at the potent call.
As in Arabia's waſte, where Horror reigns,
Gigantic tyrant of the burning plains!
[38]The glorious bounty of ſome Royal mind,
By Heaven inſpir'd, and friend, to human kind,
Bids the rich Structure of refreſhment riſe,
To chear the Traveller's deſpairing eyes;
Who ſees with rapture the new fountains burſt,
And, as he ſlakes his ſoul-ſubduing thirſt,
Bleſſes the hand which all his pains beguil'd,
And rais'd an Eden in the dreary wild:
Such praiſes, LEO! to thy name are due,
From all, who Learning's cultur'd field review,
And to its Fountain, in thy liberal heart,
Trace the diffuſive Stream of modern Art.
'Twas not thy praiſe to animate alone
The ſpeaking Canvaſs, and the breathing Stone,
Or tides of Bounty round Parnaſſus roll,
To quicken Genius in the Poet's ſoul;
Thy Favour, like the Sun's prolific ray,
Brought the keen SCRIBE OF FLORENCE into Day;*
[39]Whoſe ſubtle Wit diſcharg'd a dubious ſhaft,
Call'd both the Friend and Foe of Kingly Craft.
Tho', in his maze of Politics perplext,
Great Names have differ'd on that doubtful text;
Here crown'd with praiſe, as true to Virtue's ſide,
There view'd with horror, as th' Aſſaſſin's guide;
High in a purer ſphere, he ſhines afar,
And Hiſt'ry hails him as her Morning-ſtar.
Nor leſs, O LEO! was it thine to raiſe
The great Hiſtoric Chief of modern days,*
The ſolemn GUICCIARDIN, whoſe pen ſevere,
Unſway'd by favour, nor reſtrain'd by fear,
Mark'd in his cloſe of life, with keen diſdain,
Each fatal blemiſh in thy motley reign;
Who, like OLORUS' Son, of ſpirit chaſte,
And form'd to martial toils, minutely trac'd
The woes he ſaw his bleeding country bear,
And wars, in which he claim'd no trivial ſhare.
[40]With equal wreaths let DAVILA be crown'd,*
Alike in letters and in arms renown'd!
Who, from his country driv'n by dire miſchance,
Plung'd in the civil broils of bleeding France,
Maintaining ſtill, in Party's raging ſea,
His judgment ſteady, and his ſpirit free;
Save when the fierce religion of his Sires
Drown'd the ſoft zeal Humanity inſpires:
Who boldly wrote, with ſuch a faithful hand,
The tragic ſtory of that foreign land,
The hoary Gallic Chief, whoſe tranquil age
Liſten'd with joy to his recording page,
Tracing the ſcenes familiar to his youth,
Gave his ſtrong ſanction to th' Hiſtorian's truth.
Oh Italy! tho' drench'd with civil blood,
Tho' drown'd in Bigotry's ſoul-quenching flood,
Hiſtoric Genius, in thy troubles nurſt,
Ev'n from the darkneſs of the Convent burſt.
[41]Venice may boaſt eternal Honour, won
By the bright labours of her dauntleſs Son,
Whoſe hand the curtains of the Conclave drew,
And gave each prieſtly art to public view.
SARPI, bleſt name! from every foible clear,*
Not more to Science than to Virtue dear.
Thy pen, thy life of equal praiſe ſecure!
Both wiſely bold, and both ſublimely pure!
That Freedom bids me on thy merits dwell,
Whoſe radiant form illum'd thy letter'd cell;
Who to thy hand the nobleſt; taſk aſſign'd,
That earth can offer to a heavenly mind:
With Reaſon's arms to guard invaded laws,
And guide the pen of Truth in Freedom's cauſe.
Too firm of heart at Danger's cry to ſtoop,
Nor Lucre's ſlave, nor vain Ambition's dupe,
Thro' length of days invariably the ſame,
Thy Country's liberty thy conſtant aim!
[42]For this thy ſpirit dar'd th' Aſſaſſin's knife,
That with repeated guilt purſu'd thy life;
For this thy fervent and unweary'd care
Form'd, ev'n in death, thy patriotic prayer,
And, while his ſhadows on thine eye-lids hung,
"Be it immortal!" trembled on thy tongue.
But not reſtricted, by the partial Fates,
To the bright cluſter of Italian States,
The light of Learning, and of liberal Taſte,
Diffuſely ſhone o'er Europe's Gothic waſte.
On Tagus' ſhore, from whoſe admiring ſtrand
Great GAMA fail'd, when his advent'rous hand
The flag of glorious enterprize unfurl'd,
To purchaſe with his toils the Eaſtern world,
The clear OSORIUS, in his claſſic phraſe,*
Portray'd the Heroes of thoſe happier days,
When Luſitania, once a mighty name,
Outſtripp'd each rival in the chace of Fame:
[43]Mild and majeſtic, her Hiſtorian's page
Shares in the glory of her brighteſt age.
Iberia's Genius bids juſt Fame allow
An equal wreath to MARIANA's brow:*
Skill'd to illuminate the diſtant ſcene,
In diction graceful, and of ſpirit keen,
His labour, by his country's love endear'd,
The gloomy chaos of her Story clear'd.
He firſt aſpir'd its ſcatter'd parts to claſs,
And bring to juſter form the mighty maſs;
As the nice hand of Geographic art
Draws the vaſt globe on a contracted chart,
Where Truth uninjur'd ſees, with glad ſurprize,
Her ſhape ſtill perfect, tho' of ſmaller ſize.
Exalted Mind! who felt the People's right,
In climes, where ſouls are cruſh'd by Kingly might;
And dar'd, unaw'd before a tyrant's throne,
To make the ſanctity of Freedom known!
[44]But ſhort, O Genius! is thy tranſient hour,
In the dark regions of deſpotic Power.
As the ſaint ſtruggle of the ſolar beam,
When vapours intercept the golden ſtream,
Pouring thro' parted clouds a glancing fire,
Plays, in ſhort triumph, on ſome glittering ſpire;
But while the eye admires the partial ray,
The pale and watery luſtre melts away:
Thus gleams of literary ſplendor play'd,
And thus on Spain's o'erclouded realm decay'd:
While happier France, with longer glory bright,
Caught richer flaſhes of the flying light.
There, with the dignity of virtuous Pride,
Thro' painful ſcenes of public ſervice try'd,
And keenly conſcious of his Country's woes,
The liberal, ſpirit of THUANUS roſe:*
O'er Earth's wide ſtage a curious eye he caſt,
And caught the living pageant as it paſt:
[45]With patriot care moſt eager to advance
The rights of Nature, and the weal of France!
His language noble, as his temper clear
From Faction's rage, and Superſtition's fear!
In Wealth laborious! amid Wrongs ſedate!
His Virtue lovely, as his Genius great!
Ting'd with ſome marks, that from his climate ſpring,
He priz'd his Country, but ador'd his King;
Yet with a zeal from ſlaviſh awe refin'd,
Shone the clear model of a Gallic mind.
Thou friend of Science! 'twas thy ſignal praiſe,
A juſt memorial of her Sons to raiſe;
To blazon firſt, on Hiſt'ry's brighter leaf,
The laurel'd Writer with the laurel'd Chief!
But O! pure Spirit! what a fate was thine!
How Truth and Reaſon at thy wrongs repine!
How blame thy King, tho' rob'd in Honour's ray,
Who left thy Fame to ſubtle Prieſts a prey,
And tamely ſaw their murky wiles o'erwhelm
Thy works, the light of his reviving realm!
[46]Tho' Pontiffs execrate, and Kings betray,
Let not this fate your generous warmth allay,
Ye kindred Worthies! who ſtill dare to wield
Reaſon's keen ſword, and Toleration's ſhield,
In climes where Perſecution's iron mace
Is rais'd to maſſacre the human race!
The heart of Nature will your virtue feel,
And her immortal voice reward your zeal:
Firſt in her praiſe her fearleſs champions live,
Crown'd with the nobleſt palms that earth can give.
Firm in this band, who to her aid advance,
And high amid th' Hiſtoric ſons of France,
Delighted Nature ſaw, with partial care,
The lively vigour of the gay VOLTAIRE;
And fondly gave him, with ANACREON's fire,
To throw the hand of Age acroſs the lyre:
But mute that vary'd voice, which pleas'd ſo long!
Th' Hiſtorian's tale is clos'd, the Poet's ſong!
Within the narrow tomb behold him lie,
Who fill'd ſo large a ſpace in Learning's eye!
[47]Thou Mind unweary'd! thy long toils are o'er;
Cenſure and Praiſe can touch thy ear no more:
Still let me breathe with juſt regret thy name,
Lament thy ſoibles, and thy powers proclaim!
On the wide ſea of Letters 'twas thy boaſt
To croud each ſail, and touch at every coaſt:
From that rich deep how often haſt thou brought
The pure and precious pearls of ſplendid Thought!
How didſt thou triumph on that ſubject-tide,
Till Vanity's wild guſt, and ſtormy Pride,
Drove thy ſtrong bark, in evil hour, to ſplit
Upon the fatal rock of impious Wit!
But be thy failings cover'd by thy tomb!
And guardian laurels o'er thy aſhes bloom!
From the long annals of the world thy art,
With chemic proceſs, drew the richer part;
To Hiſt'ry gave a philoſophic air,
And made the intereſt of mankind her care;
Pleas'd her grave brow with garlands to adorn,
And from the roſe of Knowledge ſtrip the thorn.
[48]Thy lively Eloquence, in proſe, in verſe,
Still keenly bright, and elegantly terſe,
Flames with bold ſpirit; yet is idly raſh:
Thy promis'd light is oft a dazzling flaſh;
Thy Wiſdom verges to ſarcaſtic ſport,
Satire thy joy! and ridicule thy fort!
But the gay Genius of the Gallic ſoil,
Shrinking from ſolemn taſks of ſerious toil,
Thro' every ſcene his playful air maintains,
And in the light Memoir unrival'd reigns.
Thy Wits, O France! (as e'en thy Critics own)*
Support not Hiſtory's majeſtic tone;
They, like thy Soldiers, want, in ſeats of length,
The perſevering ſoul of Britiſh ſtrength.
Hail to thee, Britain! hail! delightful land!
I ſpring with filial joy to reach thy ſtrand:
And thou! bleſt nouriſher of Souls, ſublime
As e'er immortaliz'd their native clime,
[49]Rich in Poetic, treaſures, yet excuſe
The trivial offering of an humble Muſe,
Who pants to add, with fears by love o'ercome,
Her mite of Glory to thy countleſs ſum!
With vary'd colours, of the richeſt die,
Fame's brilliant banners o'er thy Offspring fly:
In native Vigour bold, by Freedom led,
No path of Honour have they fail'd to tread:
But while they wiſely plan, and bravely dare,
Their own atchievements are their lateſt care.
Tho' CAMDEN, rich in Learning's various ſtore,
Sought in Tradition's mine Truth's genuine ore,
The waſte of Hiſt'ry lay in lifeleſs ſhade,
Tho' RAWLEIGH's piercing eye that world ſurvey'd.
Tho' mightier Names there caſt a caſual glance,
They ſeem'd to ſaunter round the field by chance,
Till CLARENDON aroſe, and in the hour
When civil Diſcord wak'd each mental Power,
With brave deſire to reach this diſtant Goal,
Strain'd all the vigour of his manly ſoul.
[50]Nor Truth, nor Freedom's injur'd Powers, allow
A wreath unſpotted to his haughty brow:
Friendſhip's firm ſpirit ſtill his fame exalts,
With ſweet atonement for his leſſer faults.
His Pomp of Phraſe, his Period of a mile,
And all the maze of his bewilder'd Style,
Illum'd by Warmth of Heart, no more offend:
What cannot Taſte forgive, in FALKLAND's friend?
Nor flow his praiſes from this ſingle ſource;
One province of his art diſplays his force:
His Portraits boaſt, with features ſtrongly like,
The ſoft preciſion of the clear VANDYKE:
Tho', like the Painter, his faint talents yield,
And ſink embarraſs'd in the Epic field.
Yet ſhall his labours long adorn our Iſle,
Like the proud glories of ſome Gothic pile:
They, tho' conſtructed by a Bigot's hand,
Nor nicely finiſh'd, nor correctly plan'd,
With ſolemn Majeſty, and pious Gloom,
An awful influence o'er the mind aſſume;
[51]And from the alien eyes of every Sect
Attract obſervance, and command reſpect.
In following years, when thy great name, NASSAU!
Stampt the bleſt deed of Liberty and Law;
When clear, and guiltleſs of Oppreſſion's rage,
There roſe in Britain an Auguſtan age,
And cluſter'd Wits, by emulation bright,
Diffus'd o'er ANNA's reign their mental light;
That Conſtellation ſeem'd, tho' ſtrong its flame,
To want the ſplendor of Hiſtoric fame:
Yet BURNET's page may laſting glory hope,
Howe'er inſulted by the ſpleen of POPE.
Tho' his rough Language haſte and warmth denote,
With ardent Honeſty of Soul he wrote;
Tho' critic cenſures on his work may ſhower,
Like Faith, his Freedom has a ſaving power.
Nor ſhalt thou want, RAPIN! thy well-earn'd praiſe;
The ſage POLYBIUS thou of modern days!
Thy Sword, thy Pen, have both thy name endear'd;
This join'd our Arms, and that our Story clear'd:
[52]Thy foreign hand diſcharg'd th' Hiſtorian's truſt,
Unſway'd by Party, and to Freedom juſt.
To letter'd Fame we own thy fair pretence,
From patient Labour, and from candid Senſe.
Yet Public Favour, ever hard to fix,
Flew from thy page, as heavy and prolix.
For ſoon, emerging from the Sophiſts' ſchool,
With Spirit eager, yet with Judgment cool,
With ſubtle ſkill to ſteal upon applauſe,
And give falſe vigour to the weaker cauſe;
To paint a ſpecious ſcene with niceſt art,
Retouch the whole, and varniſh every part;
Graceful in Style, in Argument acute;
Maſter of every trick, in keen Diſpute!
With theſe ſtrong powers to form a winning tale,
And hide Deceit in Moderation's veil,
High on the pinnacle of Fashion plac'd,
HUME ſhone the idol of Hiſtoric Taſte.
Already, pierc'd by Freedom's ſearching rays,
The waxen fabric of his fame decays.—
[53]Think not, keen Spirit! that theſe hands preſume
To tear each leaf of laurel from thy tomb!
Theſe hands! which, if a heart of human frame
Could ſtoop to harbour that ungenerous aim,
Would ſhield thy Grave, and give, with guardian care,
Each type of Eloquence to flouriſh there!
But Public Love commands the painful taſk,
From the pretended Sage to ſtrip the maſk,
When his falſe tongue, averſe to Freedom's cauſe,
Profanes the ſpirit of her antient laws.
As Aſia's ſoothing opiate Drugs, by ſtealth,
Shake every ſlacken'd nerve, and ſap the health;
Thy Writings thus, with noxious charms refin'd,
Seeming to ſoothe its ills, unnerve the Mind.
While the keen cunning of thy hand pretends
To ſtrike alone at Party's abject ends,
Our hearts more free from Faction's Weeds we feel,
But they have loſt the Flower of Patriot Zeal.
[54]Wild as thy feeble Metaphyſic page,
Thy Hiſt'ry rambles into Sceptic rage;
Whoſe giddy and fantaſtic dreams abuſe
A HAMPDEN's Virtue, and a SHAKESPEAR's Muſe.
With purer Spirit, free from Party ſtrife,
To ſoothe his evening hour of honour'd life,
See candid LYTTELTON at length unfold
The deeds of Liberty in days of old!
Fond of the theme, and narrative with age,
He winds the lengthen'd tale thro' many a page;
But there the beams of Patriot Virtue ſhine;
There Truth and Freedom ſanctify the line,
And laurels, due to Civil Wiſdom, ſhield
This noble Neſtor of th' Hiſtoric field.
The living Names, who there diſplay their power,
And give its glory to the preſent hour,
I paſs with mute regard; in fear to fail,
Weighing their worth in a ſuſpected ſcale:
[55]Thy right, Poſterity! I ſacred hold,
To fix the ſtamp on literary Gold;
Bleſt! if this lighter Ore, which I prepare
For thy ſupreme Aſſay, with anxious care,
Thy current ſanction unimpeach'd enjoy,
As only tinctur'd with a ſlight alloy!
END OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE THIRD.
[]EPISTLE III.

[]
‘Ventum eſt ad partem operis deſtinati longe graviſſimam — nunc quoque, licet major quam unquam moles premat, tamen proſpicienti finem mihi conſtitutum eſt vel deſicere potius, quam deſperare — noſtra temeritas etiam mores ei conabitur dare, et aſſignabit officia. QUINTIL. Lib. xii.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD EPISTLE.

The ſources of the chief defects in Hiſtory — Vanity—National and private Flattery, and her various arts—Party-ſpirit, Superſtition, and falſe Philoſophy. — Character of the accompliſh'd Hiſtorian.—The Laws of Hiſtory—Style—Importance of the ſubject—Failure of KNOLLES from a ſubject ill choſen—Danger of dwelling on the diſtant and minute parts of a ſubject really intereſting—Failure of MILTON in this particular.—The worſt defect of an Hiſtorian, a ſyſtem of Tyranny—Inſtance in BRADY.— Want of a General Hiſtory of England: Wiſh for its accompliſhment.—Uſe and Delight of other Hiſtories—of Rome.—Labour of the Hiſtorian—Cavils againſt him.—Concern for GIBBON's irreligious ſpirit — The idle cenſure of his paſſion for Fame—Defence of that paſſion.—Concluſion.

SAY thou! whoſe eye has, like the Lynx's beam,
Pierc'd the deep windings of this mazy ſtream,
Say, from, what ſource the various Poiſons glide,
That darken Hiſtory's diſcolour'd tide;
Whoſe purer waters to the mind diſpenſe
The wealth of Virtue, and the fruits of Senſe
Theſe Poiſons flow, collective and apart,
From Public Vanity, and Private Art.
At firſt Deluſion built her ſafe retreat
On the broad baſe of National Conceit:
Nations, like Men, in Flattery confide,
The ſlaves of Fancy, and the dupes of Pride.
[60]Each petty region of the peopled earth,
Howe'er debas'd by intellectual dearth,
Still proudly boaſted of her claims to ſhare
The richeſt portion of celeſtial care:
For her ſhe ſaw the rival Gods engage,
And Heaven convuls'd with elemental rage.
To her the thunder's roar, the lightning's fire,
Confirm'd their favour, or denounc'd their ire.
To ſeize this foible, daring Hiſt'ry threw
Illuſive terrors o'er each ſcene ſhe drew;
Nor would her ſpirit, in the heat of youth,
Watch, with a Veſtal's care, the lamp of Truth;
But, wildly mounting in a Witch's form,
Her voice delighted to condenſe the ſtorm;
With ſhowers of blood th' aſtoniſh'd earth to drench,
The frame of Nature from its baſe to wrench;
In Horror's veil involve her plain events,
And ſhake th' affrighted world with dire portents.*
[61]Still ſofter arts her ſubtle ſpirit try'd,
To win the eaſy faith of Public Pride:
She told what Powers, in times of early date,
Gave conſecration to the infant State;
Mark'd the bleſt ſpot by ſacred Founders trod,
And all th' atchievements of the guardian God.
Thus while, like Fame, ſhe reſts upon the land,
Her figure grows; her magic limbs expand;
Her tow'ring head, towards Olympus toſt,
Pierces the ſky, and in that blaze is loſt.
Yet bold Philoſophy at length deſtroy'd
The brilliant phantoms of th' Hiſtoric void;
Her ſcrutinizing eye, whoſe ſearch ſevere
Rivals the preſſure of Ithuriel's ſpear,
Lets neither dark nor ſplendid Fraud eſcape,
But turns each Marvel to its real ſhape.
The blazing meteors fall from Hiſt'ry's ſphere;
Her darling Demi-gods no more appear;
No more the Nations, with heroic joy,
Boaſt their deſcent from Heaven-deſcended Troy:
[62]On FRANCIO now the Gallic page is mute,*
And Britiſh Story drops the name of BRUTE.
What other failings from this fountain flow'd,
Ill-meaſur'd ſame on martial feats beſtow'd,
And heaps, enlarg'd to mountains of the ſlain,
The miracles of valour, ſtill remain.
But of all faults, that injur'd Truth may blame,
Thoſe proud miſtakes the firſt indulgence claim,
Where Public Zeal the ardent Pen betrays,
And Patriot Paſſions ſwell the partial praiſe.
Ev'n private Vanity may pardon find,
When built on Worth, and with Inſtruction join'd:
In Britiſh Annaliſts moſt rarely found,
This venial foible ſprings on foreign ground;
'Tis theirs, who ſcribble near the Seine or Loire,
Thoſe lively Heroes of the light Memoir!
Defects more hateful to ingenuous eyes,
In Adulation's ſervile arts ariſe:
[63]Mean Child of Int'reſt as her Parent baſe!
Her charms Deformity! her wealth Diſgrace!
Dimm'd by her breath, the light of Learning fades;
Her breath the wiſeſt of mankind degrades,
And BACON's ſelf, for mental glory born,*
Meets, as her ſlave, our pity, or our ſcorn.
Unhappy Genius! in whoſe wond'rous mind
The ſordid Reptile and the Seraph join'd;
[...]ow traverſing the world on Wiſdom's wings,
Now baſely crouching to the laſt of Kings:
Thy fault, which Freedom with regret ſurveys,
This uſeful Truth, in ſtrongeſt light, diſplays;
That not ſufficient are thoſe ſhining parts,
Which ſhed new radiance o'er concenter'd arts;
To reach with glory the Hiſtoric goal
Demands a firm, an independent ſoul,
An eagle-eye, that with undazzled gaze
Can look on Majeſty's meridian blaze.
[64]But Adulation, in the worſt of times,
Throws her broad mantle o'er imperial crimes;
In Hiſt'ry's field, her abject toils delight
To ſhut the ſcenes of Nature from our ſight,
Each human Virtue in one maſs to fling,
And of that mountain make the ſtatue of a King.*
Yet oft her labours, ſlighted or abhorr'd,
Receive in preſent ſcorn their juſt reward;
Scorn from that Idol, at whoſe feet ſhe lays
The ſordid offering of her venal praiſe.
As crown'd with Indian laurels, nobly won,
His conqueſt ended, Philip's warlike Son
Sail'd down th' Hydaſpes in a voyage of ſport,
The chief Hiſtorian of his ſumptuous court
Read his deſcription of the ſingle fight,
Where Porus yielded to young Ammon's might;
And, like a Scribe in courtly arts adroit,
Moſt largely magnify'd his Lord's exploit:
[65]Tho' ever on the ſtretch to Glory's goal,
Fame the firſt paſſion of his fiery ſoul!
Fierce from his ſeat the indignant Hero ſprung,
And o'er the veſſel's ſide the volume flung;
Then, as he ſaw the fawning Scribler ſhrink,
"Thus ſhould the Author with his Writing ſink,
"Who ſtifles Truth in Flattery's diſguiſe,
"And buries honeſt Fame beneath a load of Lies."
But modern Princes, having leſs to loſe,
Rarely theſe inſults on their name accuſe:
In Dedications quietly inurn'd,*
They take more lying Praiſe than Ammon ſpurn'd;
And Learning's pliant Sons, to flattery prone,
Bend with ſuch blind obeiſance to the throne,
The baſeſt King that ever curſt the earth,
Finds many a witneſs to atteſt his worth:
Tho' dead, ſtill flatter'd by ſome abject ſlave,
He ſpreads contagious poiſon from his grave,
[66]While ſordid hopes th' Hiſtorian's hand entice
To varniſh ev'n the tomb of Royal Vice.
Tho' Nature wept with deſolated Spain,
In tears of blood, the ſecond Philip's reign;
Tho' ſuch deep ſins deform'd his fullen mind,
As merit execration from mankind:
A mighty empire by his crimes undone;
A people maſſacred; a murder'd ſon:
Tho' Heaven's diſpleaſure ſtopt his parting breath,
To bear long loathſome pangs of hideous death;
Flattery can ſtill the Ruffian's praiſe repeat,
And call this Waſter of the earth diſcreet:
Still can HERRERA, mourning o'er his urn,*
His dying pangs to bliſsful rapture turn,
And paint the King, from earth by curſes driven,
A Saint, accepted by approving Heaven!
But arts of deeper guile, and baſer wrong,
To Adulation's ſubtle Scribes belong:
[67]They oft, their preſent idols to exalt,
Profanely burſt the conſecrated vault;
Steal from the buried Chief bright Honour's plume,
Or ſtain with Slander's gall the Stateſman's tomb:
Stay, ſacrilegious ſlaves! with reverence tread
O'er the bleſt aſhes of the worthy dead!
See! where, uninjur'd by the charnel's damp,
The Veſtal, Virtue, with undying lamp,
Fond of her toil, and jealous of her truſt,
Sits the keen Guardian of their ſacred duſt,
And thus indignant, from the depth of earth,
Checks your vile aim, and vindicates their worth:
"Hence ye! who buried excellence belied,
To ſooth the ſordid ſpleen of living Pride;
"Go! gild with Adulation's feeble ray
"Th' imperial pageant of your paſſing day!
"Nor hope to ſtain, on baſe Detraction's ſcroll,
"A TULLY's morals, or a SIDNEY's foul!"—*
[68]Juſt Nature will abhor, and Virtue ſcorn,
That Pen, tho' eloquence its page adorn,
Which, brib'd by Intereſt, or from vain pretence
To ſubtler Wit, and deep-diſcerning Senſe,
Would blot the praiſe on public toils beſtow'd,
And Patriot paſſions, as a jeſt, explode.
Leſs abject failings ſpring from Party-rage,
The peſt moſt frequent in th' Hiſtoric page;
That common jaundice of the turbid brain,
Which leaves the heart unconſcious of a ſtain,
Yet ſuffers not the clouded mind to view
Or men, or actions, in their native hue:
For Party mingles, in her feveriſh dreams,
Credulity and Doubt's moſt wild extremes:
She gazes thro' a glaſs, whoſe different ends
Reduce her foes, and magnify her friends:
Deluſion ever on her ſpirit dwells;
And to the worſt exceſs its, fury ſwells,
When Superſtition's raging paſſions roll
Their ſavage frenzy thro' the Bigot's ſoul.
[69]Nor leſs the blemiſh, tho' of different kind,*
From falſe Philoſophy's conceits refin'd!
Her ſubtle influence, on Hiſtory ſhed,
Strikes the fine nerve of Admiration dead,
(That nerve deſpis'd by ſceptic ſons of earth,
Yet ſtill a vital ſpring of human worth.)
This artful juggler, with a ſkill ſo nice,
Shifts the light forms of Virtue and of Vice,
That, ere this wakens ſcorn, or that delight,
Behold! they both are vaniſh'd from the ſight;
And Nature's warm affections, thus deſtroy'd,
Leave in the puzzled mind a lifeleſs void.
Far other views the liberal Genius fire,
Whoſe toils to pure Hiſtoric praiſe aſpire;
Nor Moderation's dupe, nor Faction's brave,
Nor Guilt's apologiſt, nor Flattery's ſlave:
Wiſe, but not cunning; temperate, not cold;
Servant of Truth, and in that ſervice bold;
[70]Free from all biaſs, ſave that juſt controul
By which mild Nature ſways the manly ſoul,
And Reaſon's philanthropic ſpirit draws
To Virtue's intereſt, and Freedom's cauſe;
Thoſe great ennoblers of the human name,
Pure ſprings of Power, of Happineſs, and Fame!
To teach their influence, and ſpread their ſway,
The juſt Hiſtorian winds his toilſome way;
From ſilent darkneſs, creeping o'er the earth,
Redeems the ſinking trace of uſeful worth;
In Vice's boſom marks the latent thorn,
And brands that public peſt with public ſcorn.
A lively teacher in a moral ſchool!
In that great office ſteady, clear, and cool!
Pleas'd to promote the welfare of mankind,
And by informing meliorate the mind!
Such the bright taſk committed to his care!
Boundleſs its uſe; but its completion rare.
Critics have ſaid "Tho' high th' Hiſtorian's charge,
His Law's as ſimple as his Province large;
[71]Two obvious rules enſure his full ſucceſs—
To ſpeak no Falſehood; and no Truth ſupreſs:*
Art muſt to other works a luſtre lend,
But Hiſtory pleaſes, howſoe'er it's penn'd."
It may in ruder periods; but in thoſe,
Where all the luxury of Learning flows,
To Truth's plain fare no palate will ſubmit,
Each reader grows an Epicure in Wit;
And Knowledge muſt his nicer taſte beguile
With all the poignant charms of Attic ſtyle.
The curious Scholar, in his judgment choice,
Expects no common Notes from Hiſtory's voice;
But all the tones, that all the paſſions ſuit,
From the bold Trumpet to the tender Lute:
Yet if thro' Muſic's ſcale her voice ſhould range,
Now high, now low, with many a pleaſing change,
Grace muſt thro' every variation glide,
In every movement Majeſty preſide:
[72]With eaſe not careleſs, tho' correct not cold;
Soft Without languor, without harſhneſs bold.
Tho' Affectation can all works debaſe,
In Language, as in Life, the bane of Grace!
Regarded ever with a ſcornful ſmile,
She moſt is cenſur'd in th' Hiſtoric ſtyle:
Yet her inſinuating power is ſuch,
Not ev'n the Greeks eſcap'd her baleful touch;
And hence th' unutter'd Speech, and long Harangue,
Too oft, like weights, on ancient Story hang.
Leſs fond of labour, modern Pens deviſe
Affected beauties of inferior ſize:
They in a narrower compaſs boldly ſtrike
The fancied Portrait, with no feature like;
And Nature's ſimple colouring vainly quit,
To boaſt the brilliant glare of fading Wit.
Thoſe works alone may that bleſt fate expect
To live thro' time, unconſcious of neglect,
That catch, in ſpringing from no ſordid ſource,
The eaſe of Nature, and of Truth the force.
[73]But not ev'n Truth, with bright Expreſſion grac'd,
Nor all Deſcription's powers, in lucid order plac'd,
Not even theſe a fond regard engage,
Or bind attention to th' Hiſtoric page,
If diſtant tribes compoſe th' ill-choſen Theme,
Whoſe ſavage virtues wake no warm eſteem;
Where Faith and Valour ſpring from Honour's grave,
Only to form th' Aſſaſſin and the Slave.
From Turkiſh tyrants, ſtain'd with ſervile gore,
Enquiry turns; and Learning's ſighs deplore,
While o'er his name Neglect's cold ſhadow rolls,
A waſte of Genius in the toil of KNOLLES.*
There are, we own, whoſe magic power is ſuch,
Their hands embelliſh whatſoe'er they touch:
Their bright Moſaic ſo enchants our eyes,
By nice Arrangement, and contraſted Dies,
What mean materials in the texture lurk,
Serve but to raiſe the wonder of the work.
[74]Yet from th' Hiſtorian (as ſuch power is rare)
The choice of Matter claims no trifling care.
'Tis not alone collected Wealth's diſplay,
Nor the proud fabric of extended Sway,
That mark (tho' both the eye of Wonder fill)
The happy Subject for Hiſtoric ſkill:
Wherever Nature, tho' in narrow ſpace,
Foſters, by Freedom's aid, a liberal race;
Sees Virtue ſave them from Oppreſſion's den,
And cries, with exultation, "Theſe are Men;"
Tho' in Boeotia or Batavia born,
Their deeds the Story of the World adorn.
The Subject fix'd, with force and beauty fraught,
Juſt Diſpoſition claims yet deeper thought;
To caſt enlivening Order's lucid grace
O'er all the crouded fields of Time and Space;
To ſhew each wheel of Power in all its force,
And trace the ſtreams of Action from their ſource;
To catch, with ſpirit and preciſion join'd,
The varying features of the human Mind;
[75]The Grace, the Strength, that Nature's children draw
From Arts, from Science, Policy, and Law;
Opinion's faſhion, Wiſdom's firmer plan,
And all that marks the character of Man.
Of all the parts, that Hiſtory's volume fill,
The juſt Digreſſion claims the niceſt ſkill;
As the ſwift Hero, in the Olympic race,
Ran with leſs toil along the open ſpace;
But round the Goal to form the narrow curve,
Call'd forth his utmoſt ſtrength from every nerve.
The Subject's various powers let Study tell!
And teach th' Hiſtorian on what points to dwell!
How in due ſhades to ſink each meaner part,
And pour on nobler forms the radiance of his art!
Tho' Patriot Love the curious ſpirit fires
With thirſt to hear th' atchievements of his Sires;
And Britiſh ſtory wins the Britiſh mind
With all the charms that fond attention bind;
Its early periods, barbarous and remote,
Pleaſe not, tho' drawn by Pens of nobleſt note:
[76]O'er thoſe rude ſcenes Confuſion's ſhadows dwell,
Beyond the power of Genius to diſpell;
Miſts! which ev'n MILTON's ſplendid mind enſhroud;
Loſt in the darkneſs of the Saxon cloud!
Neglect alone repays their ſlight offence,
Whoſe wand'ring wearies our bewilder'd ſenſe:
But juſt Abhorrence brands his guilty name,
Who dares to vilify his Country's fame;
With Slander's rage the pen of Hiſtory graſp,
And pour from thence the poiſon of the Aſp;
The murd'rous falſehood, ſtifling Honour's breath!
The ſlaviſh tenet, Public Virtue's death!
With all that undermines a Nation's health,
And robs the People of their richeſt wealth!
Ye tools of Tyranny! whoſe ſervile guile
Would thus pollute the records of our iſle,
Behold your Leader curſt with public hate,
And read your juſt reward, in BRADY's fate!*
[77]O ſacred Liberty! ſhall Faction's train
Pervert the reverend archives of thy reign?
Shall ſlaves traduce the blood thy votaries ſplit,
Blaſpheming Glory with the name of Guilt?
And ſhall no Son of thine their wiles o'erwhelm,
And clear the ſtory of thy injur'd realm?
To this bright taſk ſome Britiſh ſpirit raiſe,
With powers ſurpaſſing ev'n a LIVY's praiſe!
Thro' this long wilderneſs his march inſpire,
And make thy temperate flame his leading fire!
Teach his keen eye, and comprehenſive ſoul,
To pierce each darker part, and graſp the whole!
Let Truth's undoubted ſignet ſeal his page,
And Glory guard the work from, age to age!
That Britiſh minds from this pure ſource may draw
Senſe of thy Rights, and paſſion for thy Law,
Wiſdom to prize, and Honour, that aſpires
To reach that virtue which adorn'd our Sires!
But not alone our native land attracts;
Far different Nations boaſt their ſplendid facts:
[78]In ancient Story the rich fruits unite
Of civil Wiſdom and ſublime Delight:
At Rome's proud name Attention's ſpirits riſe,
Rome, the firſt idol of our infant eyes!
Uſe and Importance mark the vaſt deſign,
Clearly to trace her periods of Decline.
Yet here, O GIBBON! what long toils enſue?
How winds the labyrinth? how fails the clue?
Tho' rude materials Time's deep trenches fill,
A radiant ſtructure riſes from thy ſkill;
Whoſe ſplendor, ſpringing from a dreary waſte,
Enchants the wondering eye of Public Taſte.
Thus to the ancient traveller, whoſe way
Acroſs the hideous ſands of Syria lay,
The Deſart blaz'd with ſudden glory bright;
And rich Palmyra ruſh'd upon his ſight.
But O! what foes beſet each honour'd Name,
Advancing in the path of letter'd fame!
To ſtop thy progreſs, and inſult thy pen,
The fierce Polemic iſſues from his den.
[79]Think not my Verſe means blindly to engage
In raſh defence of thy profaner page!
Tho' keen her ſpirit, her attachment fond,
Baſe ſervice cannot ſuit with Friendſhip's bond;
Too firm from Duty's ſacred path to turn,
She breathes an honeſt ſigh of deep concern,
And pities Genius, when his wild career
Gives Faith a wound, or Innocence a fear.
Humility herſelf, divinely mild,
Sublime Religion's meek and modeſt child,
Like the dumb Son of CROESUS, in the ſtrife,*
Where Force aſſail'd his Father's ſacred life,
Breaks ſilence, and, with filial duty warm,
Bids thee revere her Parent's hallow'd form!
Far other ſounds the ear of Learning ſtun,
From proud Theology's contentious Son;
Leſs eager to correct, than to revile,
Rage in his voice! and Rancour in his ſtyle!
[80]His idle ſcoffs with coarſe reproof deride
Thy generous thirſt of Praiſe, and liberal Pride;
Becauſe thy ſpirit dares that wiſh avow,
Which Reaſon owns, and Wiſdom muſt allow!
The noble Inſtinct, Love of laſting Fame,*
Was wiſely planted in the human frame:
From hence the brighteſt rays of Hiſtory flow;
To this their Vigour and their Uſe they owe.
Nor ſcorns fair Virtue this untainted ſource,
From hence ſhe often draws her lovely force:
For Heaven this paſſion with our life combin'd,
Which, like a central power, impels the languid mind.
When, clear from Envy's cloud, that general peſt!
It burns moſt brightly in the Author's breaſt,
Its ſoothing hopes his various pains beguile,
And give to Learning's face her ſweeteſt ſmile:
What joy, to think his Genius may create
Exiſtence far beyond the common date!
[81]His Wealth of Mind to lateſt ages give,
And in Futurity's affection live!
From unborn Beauty, ſtill to Fancy dear,
Draw with ſoft magic the delightful tear;
Or thro' the boſom of far diſtant Youth,
Spread the warm glow of Liberty and Truth!
O GIBBON! by thy frank ambition taught,
Let me like thee maintain th' enlivening thought,
That, from Oblivion's killing cloud ſecure,
My Hope may proſper, and my Verſe endure:
While thy bright Name, on Hiſtory's car ſublime,
Rolls in juſt triumph o'er the field of Time,
May I, unfaltering, thy long march attend,
No flattering Slave! but an applauding Friend!
Diſplay th' imperfect ſketch I fondly drew,
Of that wide province, where thy laurels grew;
And, honour'd with a wreath of humbler bays,
Join the loud Paean of thy laſting praiſe!

Appendix A NOTES.

[]
‘Indocti diſcant et ament meminiſſe periti.’

Appendix A.1 NOTES TO THE FIRST EPISTLE.

[85]

Appendix A.1.1 NOTE I. VERSE 4.

TH' unfailing urns of Praiſe and Cenſure ſtand.]

[...]
[...]
Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever ſtood,
The ſource of evil one, and one of good.
POPE's Iliad xxiv. v. 663.

Appendix A.1.2 NOTE II. VERSE 55.

Yet one excelling Greek, &c.] Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, the celebrated hiſtorian and critic of the Auguſtan age, who ſettled in Italy, as he himſelf informs us, on the cloſe of the civil war. He has addreſſed a little treatiſe, containing a critique on the elder hiſtorians, to his friend Cnaeus Pompeius, whom the French critics [86] ſuppoſe to be Pompey the Great; but Reiſke, the laſt editor of Dionyſius, has ſunk him into a petty Greek grammarian, the client or freedman of that illuſtrious Roman.

In this treatiſe of Dionyſius, and in one ſtill longer, on the character of Thucydides, there are ſome excellent hiſtorical precepts, which Mr. Spelman has judiciouſly thrown together in the preface to his admirable tranſlation of the Roman Antiquities.— He introduces them by the following obſervation, which may ſerve perhaps to recommend the ſubject of the preſent poem.— "So much has been ſaid, both by the antients and the moderns, in praiſe of the advantages reſulting from the ſtudy of Hiſtory, particularly by Diodorus Siculus among the former, in the noble preface to his Hiſtorical Collections; and by the late Lord Bolingbroke, among the moderns, in his admirable letter on that ſubject; that I am aſtoniſhed no treatiſe has ever yet appeared in any age, or any language, profeſſedly written to preſcribe rules for writing Hiſtory; a work allowed to be of the greateſt advantage of all others to mankind, the repoſitory of truth, fraught with leſſons both of public and private virtue, and enforced by ſtronger motives than precepts—by examples. Rules for Poetry and Rhetoric have been written by many authors, both antient and modern, as if delight and eloquence were of greater conſequence than inſtruction: however, Rhetoric was a part of Hiſtory, as treated by the antients; not the principal part indeed, but ſubſervient to the principal; and calculated to apply the facts exhibited by the narration. I know it may be ſaid, that many antient hiſtories are ſtill preſerved, and that theſe models are ſufficient guides for modern Hiſtorians, without particular rules: ſo had the Greeks Poets of all denominations in their hands, and yet Ariſtotle thought it neceſſary to preſcribe particular rules to his countrymen for applying thoſe examples to every branch of Poetry: I wiſh he had done the ſame in Hiſtory; if he had, it is very probable that his precepts would have rendered [87] the beſt of our modern Hiſtories more perfect, and the worſt, leſs abominable.—Since the reſurrection of letters, the want of ſuch a guide has been complained of by many authors, and particularly by Rapin, in the preface to his Hiſtory of England."—Spelman, page 15. But this ingenious and learned writer ſpeaks a little too ſtrongly, in ſaying no treatiſe has ever appeared in any age or language, containing rules for Hiſtory. There is one in Latin by the celebrated Voſſius, entitled Ars Hiſtorica; another by Hubertus Folieta, an elegant Latin writer, of the 16th century, on whom Thuanus beſtows the higheſt commendation; and Maſcardi, an Italian critic, patroniſed by Cardinal Mazarine, has written alſo dell Arte Hiſtorica. The curious reader may find a ſingular anecdote relating to the publication of this work in Bayle, under the article Maſcardi. But to return to Dionyſius, in comparing Herodotus and Thucydides. He cenſures the latter with a degree of ſeverity unwarranted by truth and reaſon: indeed this ſeverity appeared ſo ſtriking to the learned Fabricius, that he ſeems to conſider it as a kind of proof, that the critical works of Dionyſius were compoſed in the haſty fervor of youth. They are however in general, to uſe the words of the ſame ingenuous author, eximia & lectu digna; and a valuable critic of our own country, who reſembles Dionyſius in elegance of compoſition, and perhaps in ſeverity of judgment, has ſpoken yet more warmly in their favour.—See Warton's Eſſay on Pope, 3d edit. page 175.

Appendix A.1.3 NOTE III. VERSE 63.

And Lucian! thou, of Humour's ſons ſupreme!] The little treatiſe of Lucian "How Hiſtory ſhould be written," may be conſidered as one of the moſt valuable productions of that lively author; it is not only written with great vivacity and wit, but is entitled to the [88] ſuperior praiſe of breathing moſt exalted ſentiments of liberty and virtue. There is a peculiar kind of ſublimity in his deſcription of an accompliſhed Hiſtorian.

[...].

It is a piece of juſtice due to our own country to remark, that in the 3d volume of the World, there is a ludicrous eſſay on Hiſtory by Mr. Cambridge, which is written with all the ſpirit and all the humour of Lucian.

Appendix A.1.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 68.

And roſe a Xenophon in ſelf-eſteem.] [...].

LUCIAN. edit. Riollay, p. 6.

Appendix A.1.5 NOTE V. VERSE 77.

In Egypt once a dread tribunal ſtood.] This ſingular inſtitution, which is alluded to by many of our late authors, is related at large in the Firſt Book of Diodorus Siculus; and as the paſſage is curious, the following free tranſlation of it may afford entertainment to the Engliſh reader—"Thoſe who prepare to bury a relation, give notice of the day intended for the ceremony to the judges, and to all the friends of the deceaſed; informing them, that the body will paſs over the lake of that diſtrict to which the dead belonged: [89] when, on the judges being aſſembled, to the number of more than forty, and ranging themſelves in a ſemicircle on the farther ſide of the lake, the veſſel is ſet afloat, which thoſe who ſuperintend the funeral have prepared for this purpoſe. This veſſel is managed by a pilot, called in the Egyptian language Charon; and hence they ſay, that Orpheus, travelling in old times into Egypt, and ſeeing this ceremony, formed his fable of the infernal regions, partly from what he ſaw, and partly from invention. The veſſel being launched on the lake, before the coffin which contains the body is put on board, the law permits all, who are ſo inclined, to produce an accuſation againſt it.—If any one ſteps forth, and proves that the deceaſed has led an evil life, the judges pronounce ſentence, and the body is precluded from burial; but if the accuſer is convicted of injuſtice in his charge, he falls himſelf under a conſiderable penalty. When no accuſer appears, or when the accuſer is proved to be an unfair one, the relations, who are aſſembled, change their expreſſions of ſorrow into encomiums on the dead: yet they do not, like the Greeks, ſpeak in honour of his family, becauſe they conſider all Egyptians as equally well-born; but they ſet forth the education and manners of his youth, his piety and juſtice in maturer life, his moderation and every virtue by which he was diſtinguiſhed; and they ſupplicate the infernal Deities to receive him as an aſſociate among the bleſt. The multitude join their acclamations of applauſe in this celebration of the dead, whom they conſider as going to paſs an eternity among the juſt below*."— Such is the deſcription which Diodorus gives of this funereal judicature, to which even the kings of Egypt were ſubject. The ſame author aſſerts, that many ſovereigns had been thus judicially deprived of the honours of burial by the indignation of their people: and that the terrors of ſuch a fate had a moſt ſalutary influence on the virtue of their kings.

[90]The Abbe Tertaſſon has drawn a ſublime picture of this ſepulchral proceſs, and indeed of many Egyptian Myſteries, in his very learned and ingenious romance, The Life of Sethos.

Appendix A.1.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 115.

The infant Muſe, ambitious at her birth,

Roſe the young herald of heroic worth.] "Not only the Greek writers give a concurrent teſtimony concerning the priority of hiſtorical Verſe to Proſe; but the records of all nations unite in confirming it. The oldeſt compoſitions among the Arabs are in Rythm or rude Verſe; and are often cited as proofs of the truth of their ſubſequent Hiſtory. The accounts we have of the Peruvian ſtory confirm the ſame fact; for Garcilaſſo tells us, that he compiled a part of his Commentaries from the antient ſongs of the country—Nay all the American tribes, who have any compoſitions, are found to eſtabliſh the ſame truth—Northern Europe contributes its ſhare of teſtimony: for there too we find the Scythian or Runie ſongs (many of them hiſtorical) to be the oldeſt compoſitions among theſe barbarous nations."

BROWNE's Diſſertation on Poetry, &c. Page 50.

Appendix A.1.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 131.

But in the center of thoſe vaſt abodes,

Whoſe mighty maſs the land of Egypt loads.] This account of the Pyramids I have adopted from the very learned Mr. Bryant, part of whoſe ingenious obſervation upon them I ſhall here preſent to the reader.

One great purpoſe in all eminent and expenſive-ſtructures is to pleaſe the ſtranger and traveller, and to win their admiration. This [91] is effected ſometimes by a mixture of magnificence and beauty: at other times ſolely by immenſity and grandeur. The latter ſeems to have been the object in the erecting of thoſe celebrated buildings in Egypt: and they certainly have anſwered the deſign. For not only the vaſtneſs of their ſtructure; and the area which they occupy, but the ages they have endured, and the very uncertainty of their hiſtory, which runs ſo far back into the depths of antiquity, produce altogether a wonderful veneration; to which buildings more exquiſite and embelliſhed are ſeldom entitled. Many have ſuppoſed, that they were deſigned for places of ſepulture: and it has been affirmed by Herodotus, and other ancient writers. But they ſpoke by gueſs: and I have ſhewn by many inſtances, how uſual it was for the Grecians to miſtake temples for tombs. If the chief Pyramid, were deſigned for a place of burial, what occaſion was there for a well, and for paſſages of communication which led to other buildings? Near the Pyramids are apartments of a wonderful fabric, which extend in length one thouſand four hundred feet, and about thirty in depth. They have been cut out of the hard rock, and brought to a perpendicular by the artiſt's chizel; and through dint of labour faſhioned as they now appear. They were undoubtedly deſigned for the reception of prieſts; and conſequently were not appendages to a tomb; but to a temple of the Deity . . . . . . The prieſts of Egypt delighted in obſcurity; and they probably came by the ſubterraneous paſſages of the building to the dark chambers within; where they performed their luſtrations, and other nocturnal rites. Many of the ancient temples in this country were caverns in the rocks, enlarged by art, and cut out into numberleſs dreary apartments: for no nation upon earth was ſo addicted to gloom and melancholy as the Egyptians.

BRYANT's Analyſis, Vol. III. Page 529.

Appendix A.1.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 190.

[92]

Of the fierce Omar, &c.] The number of volumes deſtroyed in the plunder of Alexandria is ſaid to have been ſo great, that although they were diſtributed to hear four thouſand baths in that city, it was ſix months before they were conſumed. When a petition was ſent to the Chaliph Omar for the preſervation of this magnificent library, he replied, in the true ſpirit of bigotry, "What is contained in theſe books you mention, is either agreeable to what is written in the book of God (meaning the Alcoran) or it is not if it be, then the Alcoran is ſufficient without them: if otherwiſe, 'tis fit they ſhould be deſtroyed.

OCKLEY's Hiſtory of the Saracens, Vol. I. Page 313.

Appendix A.1.9 NOTE IX. VERSE 203.

The dome expands!—Behold th' Hiſtoric Sire!] Herodotus, to whom Cicero has given the honourable appellation of The Father of Hiſtory, was born in Halicarnaſſus, a city of Caria, four years before the invaſion of Xerxes, in the year 484 before Chriſt. The time and place of his death are uncertain; but his countryman Dionyſius informs us, that he lived to the beginning of the Peloponneſian war; and Marcellinus, the Greek author who wrote a life of Thucydides, affirms there was a monument erected to theſe two great Hiſtorians in a burial-place belonging to the family of Miltiades.

There is hardly any author, antient of modern, who has been more warmly commended, or more vehemently cenſured, than this eminent Hiſtorian. But even the ſevere Dionyſius declares, he is one of thoſe enchanting writers, whom you peruſe to the laſt ſyllable with pleaſure, and ſtill wiſh for more.—Plutarch himſelf, who has made the moſt violent attack on his veracity, allows him all [93] the merit of beautiful compoſition. From the heavy charges brought againſt him by the antients, the famous Henry Stephens, and his learned friend Camerarius, have defended their favourite Hiſtorian with great ſpirit. But Herodotus has found a more formidable antagoniſt in a learned and animated writer of our own times, to whom the public have been lately indebted for his having opened to them new mines of Oriental learning.—If the ingenious Mr. Richardſon could effectually ſupport his Perſian ſyſtem, the great Father of the Grecian ſtory muſt ſink into a fabuliſt as low in point of veracity as Geoffrey of Monmouth. It muſt be owned, that ſeveral eminent Writers of our country have treated him as ſuch. Another Orientaliſt, who, in his elegant Preface to the Life of Nader Shaw, has drawn a ſpirited and judicious ſketch of many capital Hiſtorians, declares, in paſſing judgment on Herodotus, that "his accounts, of the Perſian affairs are at leaſt doubtful, if not fabulous."—Hume, I think, goes ſtill farther, and ſays, in one of his eſſays—"The firſt page of Thucydides is, in my opinion, the commencement of real Hiſtory." For my own part, I confeſs myſelf more credulous: the relation, which Herodotus has given of the repulſe of Xerxes from Greece, is ſo delightful to the mind, and ſo animating to public virtue, that I ſhould be ſorry to number it among the Grecian fables.

—Et madidis cantat quae Soſtratus alis.

Appendix A.1.10 NOTE X. VERSE 206.

As the fair figure of his favour'd Queen.] Artemiſia of Halicarnaſſus, who commanded in perſon the five veſſels, which ſhe contributed to the expedition of Xerxes. On hearing that ſhe had ſunk a Grecian galley in the ſea-fight at Salamis, he exclaimed, that his men had proved women, and his women men.

HEROD. Lib. VIII. p. 666. Edit. Weſſ.

Appendix A.1.11 NOTE XI. VERSE 209.

[94]

Soft as the ſtream, whoſe dimpling waters play.] Sine ullis ſalebris quaſi ſedatus amnis fluit.

CICERO in Oratore.

Appendix A.1.12 NOTE XII. VERSE 225.

But mark the Youth, in dumb delight immers'd.] Thucydides, the ſon of Olorus, was born at Athens in the year 471 before Chriſt, and is ſaid, at the age of 15, to have heard Herodotus recite his Hiſtory at the Olympic games.—The generous youth was charmed even to tears, and the Hiſtorian congratulated Olorus on theſe marks of genius, which he diſcovered in his ſon. —Being inveſted with a military command, he was baniſhed from Athens at the age of 48, by the injuſtice of faction, becauſe he had unfortunately failed in the defence of Amphipolis.—He retired into Thrace, and is reported to have married a Thracian lady poſſeſſed of valuable mines in that country.—At the end of 20 years his ſentence of baniſhment was revoked. Some authors affirm that he returned to Athens, and was treacherouſly killed in that city. But others aſſert that he died in Thrace, at the advanced age of 80, leaving his Hiſtory unfiniſhed.

MARCELLINUS; and DODWELL. Annales Thucydid.

Appendix A.1.13 NOTE XIII. VERSE 251.

A generous guardian of a rival's fame.] It is ſaid by Diogenes Laertius, that Xenophon firſt brought the Hiſtory of Thucydides [95] into public reputation, though he had it in his power to aſſume to himſelf all the glory of that work. This amiable Philoſopher and Hiſtorian was born at Athens, and became early a diſcipline of Socrates, who is ſaid by Strabo to have ſaved his life in battle. About the 50th year of his age, according to the conjecture of his admirable tranſlator Mr. Spelman, he engaged in the expedition of Cyrus, and accompliſhed his immortal retreat in the ſpace of 15 months.—The jealouſy of the Athenians baniſhed him from his native city, for engaging in the ſervice of Sparta and Cyrus.—On his return therefore he retired to Scillus, a town of Elis, where he built a temple to Diana, which he mentions in his Epiſtles, and devoted his leiſure to philoſophy and rural ſports.—But commotions ariſing in that country, he removed to Corinth, where he is ſuppoſed to have written his Grecian Hiſtory, and to have died at the age of ninety, in the year 360 before Chriſt. By his wife Phileſia he had two ſons, Diodorus and Gryllus. The latter rendered himſelf immortal by killing Epaminondas in the famous battle of Mantinea, but periſhed in that exploit, which his father lived to record.

Appendix A.1.14 NOTE XIV. VERSE 273.

Rome's haughty genius, who enſlav'd the Greek,

In Grecian language deigns at firſt to ſpeak.] Some of the moſt illuſtrious Romans are known to have written Hiſtories in Greek. The luxuriant Lucullus, when he was very young, compoſed in that language a Hiſtory of the Marſi, which, Plutarch ſays, was extant in his time—Cicero wrote a Greek Commentary on his own conſulſhip—and the elegant Atticus produced a ſimilar, work on the ſame ſubject, that did not perfectly ſatisfy the nice ear of his friend, as we learn from the following curious [96] paſſage in a letter concerning the Hiſtory in queſtion:—"Quanquam tua illa (legi enim libenter) horridula mihi atque incompta viſa funt: ſed tamen erant ornata hoc ipſo, quod ornamenta neglexerant, et ut mulieres, ideo bene olere, quia nihil olebant, videbantur." Epiſt. ad ATTICUM. Lib. II. Ep. 1.

Appendix A.1.15 NOTE XV. VERSE 279.

Thou friend of Scipio! vers'd in War's alarms.] Polybius, born at Megalopolis in Arcadia, 205 years before Chriſt.—He was trained to arms under the celebrated Philopoemen, and is deſcribed by Plutarch carrying the urn of that great but unfortunate General in his funeral proceſſion. He aroſe to conſiderable honours in his own country, but was compelled to viſit Rome with other principal Achaeans, who were detained there as pledges for the ſubmiſſion of their ſtate.—From hence he became intimate with the ſecond Scipio Africanus, and was preſent with him at the demolition of Carthage.—He ſaw Corinth alſo plundered by Mummius, and thence paſſing through the cities of Achaia, reconciled them to Rome.—He extended his travels into Egypt, France, and Spain, that he might avoid ſuch geographical errors as he has cenſured in other writers of Hiſtory. He lived to the age of 82, and died of an illneſs occaſioned by a fall from his horſe. FABRICIUS, Bibliotheca Graeca.

In cloſing this conciſe account of the capital Greek Hiſtorians, I cannot help obſerving, that our language has been greatly enriched, in the courſe of the preſent century, by ſuch tranſlations of theſe Authors as do great honour to our country, and are at leaſt equal to any which other nations have produced.

In the chief Roman Hiſtorians we ſeem to have been leſs fortunate; but from the ſpecimen which Mr. Aikin has lately given [97] the public in the ſmaller pieces of Tacitus, we may hope to ſee an excellent verſion of that valuable author, who has been hitherto ill treated in our language, and among all the antients there is none perhaps whom it is more difficult to tranſlate with fidelity and ſpirit.

Appendix A.1.16 NOTE XVI. VERSE 297.

Sententious Salluſt leads her lofty train.] This celebrated Hiſtorian, who from the irregularity of his life, and the beauty of his writings, has been called, not unhappily, the Bolingbroke of Rome, was born at Amiternum, a town of the Sabines.— For the profligacy of his early life he was expelled the ſenate, but reſtored by the intereſt of Julius Caeſar, who gave him the command of Numidia, which province he is ſaid to have plundered by the moſt infamous extortion, purchaſing with part of this treaſure thoſe rich and extenſive poſſeſſions on the Quirinal Hill, ſo celebrated by the name of the Horti Salluſtiani.—He died in the 70th year of his age, four years before the battle of Actium, and 35 before the Chriſtian aera. His enmity to Cicero is well known, and perhaps it had ſome influence on the peculiarity of his diction—perſonal animoſity might make him endeavour to form a ſtyle as remote as poſſible from the redundant language of the immortal Orator, whoſe turbulent wife, Terentia, he is ſaid to have married after her divorce. This extraordinary woman is reported to have lived to the age of 103, to have married Meſſala, her third huſband, and Vibius Rufus her fourth.—The latter boaſted, with the joy of an Antiquarian, that he poſſeſſed two of the greateſt curioſities in the world, namely Terentia, who had been Cicero's wife, and the chair in which Caeſar was killed.—St. JEROM; and DIO CASSIUS, quoted by Middleton in his life of Cicero.—But to return [98] to Salluſt.—His Roman Hiſtory, in ſix books, from the death of Sylla to the conſpiracy of Catiline, the great work from which he chiefly derived his glory among the Antients, is unfortunately loſt, excepting a few fragments;—but his two detached pieces of Hiſtory, which happily remain entire, are ſufficient to juſtify the great encomiums he has received as a writer.—He has had the ſingular honour to be twice tranſlated by a royal hand—firſt by our Elizabeth, according to Camden; and ſecondly by the preſent Infant of Spain, whoſe verſion of this elegant Hiſtorian, lately printed in folio, is one of the moſt beautiful books that any country has produced ſince the invention of printing.

Appendix A.1.17 NOTE XVII. VERSE 311.

In bright pre-eminence, that Greece might own,

Sublimer Livy claims th' Hiſtoric throne.] All the little perſonal account, that can be collected of Livy, amounts only to this—that he was born at Patavium, the modern Padua; that he was choſen by Auguſtus to ſuperintend the education of the ſtupid Claudius; that he was rallied by the Emperor for his attachment to the cauſe of the Republic; and that he died in his own country in the 4th year of Tiberius, at the age of 76.— There is a paſſage in one of Pliny's letters, which, as it ſhews the high and extenſive reputation of our Hiſtorian during his life, I ſhall preſent to the reader in the words of Pliny's moſt elegant tranſlator.—"Do you remember to have read of a certain inhabitant of the city of Cadiz, who was ſo ſtruck with the illuſtrious character of Livy, that he travelled to Rome on purpoſe to ſee that great Genius; and as ſoon as he had ſatisfied his curioſity, returned home again?"—MELMOTH's Pliny, Vol. I. Page 71.—A veneration ſtill more extraordinary was paid to this great author by Alphonſe [99] King of Naples, who in 1451 ſent Panormita as his Ambaſſador to the Venetians, in whoſe dominion the bones of Livy had been lately diſcovered, to beg a relic of this celebrated Hiſtorian— They preſented him with an arm-bone, and the Preſent is recorded in an inſcription preſerved at Padua, which the curious reader may find in Voſſius de Hiſtoricis Latinis. This ſingular anecdote is alſo related in Bayle, under the article Panormita.—Learning perhaps never ſuſtained a greater loſs, in any ſingle author, than by the deſtruction of the latter and more intereſting part of Livy.— Several eminent moderns have indulged the pleaſing expectation that the entire work of this noble Hiſtorian might yet be recovered.— It has been ſaid to exiſt in an Arabic verſion: and even a compleat copy of the original is ſuppoſed to have been extant as late as the year 1631, and to have periſhed at that time in the plunder of Magdeburgh.—That munificent patron of learning, Leo the Xth, exerted the moſt generous zeal to reſcue from oblivion the valuable treaſure, which one of his moſt bigotted predeceſſors, Gregory the Great, had expelled from every Chriſtian library.—Bayle has preſerved, under the article Leo, two curious original letters of that Pontiff, concerning his hopes of recovering Livy; which afford moſt honourable proofs of his liberality in the cauſe of letters.

Appendix A.1.18 NOTE XVIII. VERSE 325.

Yet, like the matchleſs, mutilated frame,

To which great Angelo bequeath'd his name.] The trunk of a ſtatue of Hercules by Apollonius the Athenian, univerſally called the Torſo of Michael Angelo, from its having been the favourite ſtudy of that divine Artiſt.—He is ſaid to have made out the compleat figure in a little model of wax, ſtill preſerved at Florence, and repreſenting Hercules repoſing after his [100] labours.—The figure is ſitting in a penſive poſture, with an elbow reſting on the knee.

Appendix A.1.19 NOTE XIX. VERSE 333.

Sarcaſtic Tacitus, abrupt and dark.] Tacitus was born, according to the conjecture of Lipſius, in the cloſe of the reign of Claudius: paſſing through various public honours, he roſe at length to the conſular dignity, under Nerva, in the year of Chriſt 97. The date of his death is unknown, but he is ſaid to have lived happily to an advanced age with his wife, the amiable daughter of the virtuous Agricola, whoſe life he has ſo beautifully written. By this lady he is ſuppoſed to have left children; and the emperor Tacitus is conjectured to have been a remote deſcendant from the Hiſtorian, to whoſe works and memory he paid the higheſt regard.—It is reported by Sidonius Apollinaris, that Tacitus recommended the province of writing Hiſtory to Pliny the Younger, and that he did not himſelf engage in that employment, till his friend had declined it. This is not mentioned, indeed, in any of the beautiful letters ſtill remaining from Pliny to Tacitus; but it is an inſtance of delicacy not unparallel'd among the Antients, as will appear from the following remark by one of the moſt elegant and liberal of modern critics.—"The Roman Poet, who was not more eminent by his genius than amiable in his moral character, affords perhaps the moſt remarkable inſtance that any where occurs, of the conceſſions which a mind ſtrongly impregnated with ſentiments of genuine amity, is capable of making. Virgil's ſuperior talents rendered him qualified to excel in all the nobler ſpecies of poetical compoſition: nevertheleſs, from the moſt uncommon delicacy of friendſhip, he ſacrificed to his intimacy with Horace, the unrivall'd reputation he might have acquired by indulging his lyric vein; as from the ſame refined motive he forbore to exerciſe his dramatic [101] powers, that he might not obſcure the glory of his friend Varius.

Aurum et opes et rura, frequens donabit amicus:
Qui velit ingenio cedere, rarus erit.
MART. VIII. 18. MELMOTH's Remarks on LAELIUS, Page 292.

As to Tacitus, it is clear, I think, from the Letters of Pliny, as well as from his own moſt pleaſing Life of Agricola, that he poſſeſſed all the refined and affectionate feelings of the heart in a very high degree, though the general caſt of his hiſtorical works might lead us to imagine, that auſterity was his chief characteriſtic.—It would be eaſy to fill a volume in tranſcribing the great encomiums, and the violent cenſures, which have been laviſhed by modern writers of almoſt every country on this profound Hiſtorian.—The laſt critic of eminence, who has written againſt him, in Britain, is, I believe, the learned Author of The Origin and Progreſs of Language; who, in his 3d volume of that work, has made many curious remarks on the compoſition of the antient Hiſtorians, and is particularly ſevere on the diction of Tacitus. He repreſents him as the defective model, from which modern writers have copied, what he is pleaſed to call, "the ſhort and priggiſh cut of ſtyle ſo much in uſe now."

Appendix A.1.20 NOTE XX. VERSE 356.

Thy Plutarch ſhines, by moral beauty known.] It is to be wiſhed, that this moſt amiable Moraliſt and Biographer had added a Life of himſelf, to thoſe which he has given to the world: as the particulars, which other Writers have preſerved of his perſonal Hiſtory, are very doubtful and imperfect. According to the learned Fabricius, [102] he was born under Claudius, 50 years after the Chriſtian aera, raiſed to the conſular dignity under Trajan, whoſe preceptor he is ſaid to have been, and made Procurator of Greece in his old age by the Emperor Adrian—in the 5th year of whoſe reign he is ſuppoſed to have died, at the age of 70. He was married to a moſt amiable woman of his own native town Chaeronea, whoſe name was Timoxena, and to whoſe ſenſe and virtue he has borne the moſt affectionate teſtimony in his moral works; of which it may be regretted that we have no elegant tranſlation. Indeed even the Lives of Plutarch, the moſt popular of all the antient hiſtorical compoſitions, were chiefly known to the Engliſh reader by a motley and miſerable verſion, till a new one, executed with fidelity and ſpirit, was preſented to the public by the Langhornes in 1770.

Appendix A.1.21 NOTE XXI. VERSE 379.

Mild Marcellinus! free from ſervile awe!] Ammianus Marcellinus, a Grecian and a Soldier, as he calls himſelf, flouriſhed under Conſtantius and the ſucceeding emperors, as late as Theodoſius. He ſerved under Julian in the Eaſt, and wrote a Hiſtory from the reign of Nerva to the death of Valens, in 31 books, of which 18 only remain.—The time and circumſtances of his own death are unknown.—Bayle has an article on Marcellinus, in which he obſerves, that he has introduced a moſt bitter invective againſt the Practitioners of Law into his Hiſtory.—He ſhould have added, that the Hiſtorian beſtows great encomiums on ſome illuſtrious characters of that profeſſion, and even mentions the peculiar hardſhip to which Advocates are themſelves expoſed.—The curious reader may find this paſſage, Lib. xxx. Cap. 4.

Appendix A.1.22 NOTE XXII. VERSE 399.

[103]

And, with Comnena's royal name impreſt.] Anna Comnena was the eldeſt daughter of the emperor Alexius Comnenus, and the empreſs Irene, born 1083.—She wrote the Hiſtory of her father, in 15 books, firſt publiſhed, very imperfectly, by Haeſchelius, in 1610, and ſince printed in the collection of the Byzantine Hiſtorians, with a diffuſe and incorrect Latin verſion by the Jeſuit Poſſinus, but with excellent notes by the learned Du Freſne.

Conſidering the miſeries of the time in which ſhe lived, and the merits of her work—which ſome Critics have declared ſuperior to every other in that voluminous collection—this Lady may be juſtly regarded as a ſingular phaenomenon in the literary world; and, as this mention of her may poſſibly excite the curioſity of my fair Readers, I ſhall cloſe the Notes to this Epiſtle with preſenting to them a Tranſlation of the Preface to her Hiſtory, as I believe no part of her Works have yet appeared in any modern language. I found that I could not abridge it without injuring its beauty, and though long, I flatter myſelf it will eſcape the cenſure of being tedious, as ſhe feelingly diſplays in it the misfortunes of her life, and the character of her mind.

Appendix A.1.22.1 THE PREFACE OF THE PRINCESS ANNA COMNENA, FROM THE GREEK, Prefixed to her ALEXIAD, or Hiſtory of her Father the Emperor ALEXIUS.

TIME, which flows irreſiſtibly, ever encroaching, and ſtealing ſomething from human life, ſeems to bear away all that is mortal into a gulph darkneſs; ſometimes deſtroying ſuch things as [104] deſerve not utterly to be forgotten, and ſometimes, ſuch as are moſt noble, and moſt worthy of remembrance. Now (to uſe the words of the tragic poet*)

Diſcovering things inviſible; and now
Sweeping each preſent object from our ſight.

But Hiſtory forms the ſtrongeſt barrier againſt this tide of Time: it withſtands, in ſome meaſure, the violence of the torrent, and, by collecting and cementing ſuch things as appear worthy of preſervation, while they are hurried along the ſtream, it allows them not to ſink into the abyſs of oblivion.

On this conſideration, I Anna, the daughter of the emperor Alexius, and his conſort Irene, born and educated in imperial ſplendor—not utterly void of literature, and ſolicitous to diſtinguiſh myſelf by that Grecian characteriſtic—as I have already applied myſelf to Rhetoric, and having thoroughly ſtudied the Principles of Ariſtotle and the Dialogues of Plato, have endeavoured to adorn my mind with the four uſual branches of education (for I think it incumbent on me, even at the riſque of appearing vain, to declare what qualifications for the preſent taſk I have received from nature, or gained by application; what Providence has beſtowed upon me, or time and opportunity ſupplied.) On theſe accounts, I am deſirous of commemorating, in my preſent work, the actions of my father, as they deſerve not to be buried in ſilence, or to be plunged, as it were, by the tide of Time, into the ocean of Oblivion: both thoſe actions which he performed after he obtained the diadem, and thoſe before that period, while he was himſelf a ſubject of other Princes. I engage in this narration, not ſo much to diſplay any little talent for compoſition, [105] as to prevent tranſactions of ſuch importance from periſhing unrecorded: ſince even the brighteſt of human atchievements, if not conſigned to memory under the guard of writing, are extinguiſhed, as it were, by the Darkneſs of Silence.

My father was a man, who knew both how to govern, and to pay to governors a becoming obedience: but in chuſing his actions for my ſubject, I am apprehenſive, in the very outſet of my work, leſt I may be cenſured as the Panegyriſt of my own family for writing of my father; that if I ſpeak of him with admiration, my whole Hiſtory will be conſidered as a falſe an flattering encomium; and if any circumſtance, I may have occaſion to mention, leads me, as it were by force, to diſapprove ſome part even of his conduct. I am apprehenſive, on the other hand, not from the character of my father, but from the very nature of things, that ſome malignant cenſurers may compare me to Cham, the ſon of Noah; ſince there are many, whom envy and malevolence will not ſuffer to form a fair judgment, and who, to ſpeak in the words of Homer, ‘Are keen to cenſure, where no blame is due.’ For whoever engages in the province of Hiſtory, is bound to forget all ſentiments both of favour and averſion; and often to adorn his enemies with the higheſt commendations, when their actions are entitled to ſuch reward; and often to cenſure his moſt intimate friends, when the failings of their life and manners require it.— Theſe are duties equally incumbent on the Hiſtorian, which he cannot decline. As to myſelf, with regard to thoſe who may be affected either by my cenſure or my praiſe, I would wiſh to aſſure them, that I ſpeak both of them, and their conduct, according to the evidence of their actions themſelves, or the report of thoſe who beheld them; for either the fathers, or the grandfathers, of many perſons now living were ocular witneſſes of what I ſhall [106] record. I have been chiefly led to engage in this Hiſtory of my father by the following circumſtance:—It was my fortune to marry Caeſar Nicephorus, of the Bryennian family, a man far ſuperior to all his cotemporaries, not only in perſonal beauty, but in ſublimity of underſtanding, and all the charms of eloquence! for he was equally the admiration of thoſe who ſaw, and thoſe who heard him. But that my diſcourſe may not wander from its preſent purpoſe, let me proceed in my narration!—He was then, among all men, the moſt diſtinguiſhed; and when he marched with the emperor John Comnenus, my brother, on his expedition againſt Antioch, and other places in poſſeſſion of the Barbarians, ſtill unable to abſtain from literary purſuits, even in thoſe ſcenes of labour and fatigue, he wrote various compoſitions worthy of remembrance and of honour. But he chiefly applied himſelf to the writing an account of what related to my father Alexius, emperor of the Romans, at the requeſt of the empreſs; reducing into proper form the tranſactions of his reign, whenever the times would allow him to devote ſhort intervals of leiſure from arms and battle to works of literature, and the labour of compoſition. In forming this Hiſtory, he deduced his accounts from an early period, being directed in this point alſo by the inſtruction of our royal miſtreſs; beginning from the emperor Diogenes, and deſcending to the perſon, whom he had choſen for the Hero of his Drama—for this ſeaſon firſt ſhewed my father to be a youth of expectation. Before this period he was a mere infant; and of courſe performed nothing worthy of being recorded: unleſs even the occurrences of his childhood ſhould be thought a fit ſubject for Hiſtory. Such then was the deſign and ſcope of Caeſar's compoſition: but he fail'd in the hope he had entertained, of bringing his Hiſtory to its concluſion: for having brought it to the times of the emperor Nicephorus Botoniates, he there broke off, having no future opportunity allowed him of continuing his narration: a circumſtance, [107] which has proved a ſevere loſs to Literature, and robbed his readers of delight!—On this account I have undertaken to record the actions of my father, that ſuch atchievements may not eſcape poſterity. What degree of harmony and grace the writings of Caeſar poſſeſſed, all perſons know, who have been fortunate enough to ſee his compoſitions. But having executed his work to the period I have mentioned, in the midſt of hurry and fatigue, and bringing it to us half finiſhed from his expedition, he brought home, alas! at he ſame time, a diſorder that proved mortal, contracted perhaps from the hardſhips of his paſſage, or perhaps from that harraſſing ſcene of perpetual action, and poſſibly indeed from his infinite anxiety on my account; for anxiety was natural to his affectionate heart, and his labours were without intermiſſion. Moreover the change and badneſs of climates might prepare for him this draught of death. For notwithſtanding the dreadful ſtate of his health, he perſevered in the campaign againſt the Syrians and Cilicians, till at length he was conveyed out of Syria in a moſt infirm ſtate, and was brought through Cilicia, Pamphylia, Lydia, and Bithynia, home to the metropolis of the empire, and to his family. But his vitals were now affected by his infinite fatigue.— Even in this ſtate of weakneſs he was deſirous of diſplaying the events of his expedition: but this his diſorder rendered him unable to execute, and indeed we enjoined him not to attempt it, leſt by the effort of ſuch a narration he ſhould burſt open his wound.— But in the recollection of theſe things, my whole ſoul is darkened, and my eyes are covered with a flood of tears.—O what a director of the Roman counſels was then torn from us! O what an end was there to all the treaſures of clear, of various, and of uſeful knowledge, which he had collected from obſervation and experience, both in regard to foreign affairs, and the internal buſineſs of the empire! —O what a form was then deſtroyed!—Beauty, that ſeemed not only entitled to dominion, but bearing even the [108] ſemblance of divinity!—I indeed have been converſant with every calamity; and have found, even from the imperial cradle, an unpropitious fortune: ſome perhaps might eſteem that fortune not unpropitious, which ſeemed to ſmile upon my birth, in giving me ſovereigns for my parents, and nurſing me in the imperial purple: but for the other circumſtances of my life, alas, what tempeſts! alas, what perturbations! The melody of Orpheus affected even inanimate nature; and Timotheus, in playing the Orthic ſong to Alexander, made the Macedon ſtart to arms.

The relation of my miſeries would not, indeed, produce ſuch effects; but it would move every auditor to tears; it would force not only beings endued with ſenſibility, but even inanimate nature to ſympathize in my ſorrow.—This remembrance of Caeſar, and his unexpected death, tears open the deepeſt wound of my ſoul: Indeed, I conſider all my former misfortunes, if compared to this immeaſureable calamity, but as a drop of water to the Atlantic ſea: or rather, my earlier afflictions were a kind of prelude to this: they firſt involved me, as it were, like a ſmoke preceding this raging fire: they were a kind of heat, that portended a conflagration, which no words can deſcribe. O thou fire, that blazeſt without fuel, preying on my heart without deſtroying its exiſtence; piercing through my very bones, and ſhrinking up my ſoul!— But I perceive myſelf hurried away from my ſubject: this mention of Caeſar, and what I ſuffer in his loſs, has led me into the prolixity of grief: wiping therefore the tear from my eyes, and reſtraining myſelf from this indulgence of ſorrow, I will proceed in order; yet, as the * tragic Poet ſays, ‘Still adding tear to tear,’ as recollecting misfortune after misfortune: for the entering on the Hiſtory of ſuch a king, ſo eminent for his virtues, revives [109] in my mind all the wonders he performed, which move me to freſh tears: and theſe I ſhare in common with all the world; for the remembrance of him, and the recital of his reign, ſupplies to me a new ſubject of lamentation, and muſt remind others of the loſs they have ſuſtained.

But let me at length begin the Hiſtory of my father, from the period moſt proper:—now the moſt proper period is that, which will give to my narration the cleareſt, and moſt hiſtorical appearance.—

*
Sophocles.
Aſtrology, Geometry, Arithmetic, and Muſic.
*
Euripides.
END OF THE NOTES TO THE FIRST EPISTLE.

Appendix A.2 NOTES TO THE SECOND EPISTLE.

[110]

Appendix A.2.1 NOTE I. VERSE 17.

HOW ſainted Kings renounce, with holy dread,

The chaſte endearments of their marriage-bed.] It is well known how Edward the Confeſſor is celebrated for his inviolable chaſtity by the Monkiſh Hiſtorians—one of them, in particular, is ſo ſolicitous to vindicate the piety of Edward in this article, that he paſſes a ſevere cenſure on thoſe, who had imputed his ſingular continence to a principle of reſentment againſt the father of his queen —Hanc quoque Rex ut conjugem tali arte tractavit; quod nec thoro removit; nec eam virili more carnaliter cognovit: quod utrum patris illius, qui proditor convictus erat, et familiae ejus odio quod prudenter pro tempore diſſimulabat; an amore caſtitatis id fecerit, incertum eſt aliquibus, qui in dubiis ſiniſtra interpretantur. Veruntamen non benevoli, et veritati, ut videtur, diſſoni dicere praeſumunt. Quod Rex charitatis et pacis munere ditatus, de genere proditoris haeredes, qui ſibi ſuccederent, corrupto ſemine [111] noluerit procreare. Sciebat enim rex pacificus quod filia nihil criminis commiſit cum patre proditore, & ideo non reſpuit thorum virginis; ſed ambo unanimi aſſenſu caſtitatem voverunt, parilique voluntate THOMAE RUDBORNE, Hiſt. major. in Anglia Sacra.

Tom. I. p. 241.

The very high degree of merit, which the writers of the dark ages attributed to this matrimonial mortification, is ſtill more forcibly diſplayed in a miraculous ſtory related by Gregory of Tours, which the curious reader may find in the Firſt Book and 42d chapter of that celebrated Hiſtorian.

Appendix A.2.2 NOTE II. VERSE 19.

How Nuns, entranc'd, to joys celeſtial mount,

Made drunk with rapture from a ſacred fount.] The Monkiſh Hiſtorians ſeem to have conſidered a viſion as the moſt engaging embelliſhment that Hiſtory could receive—Even the ſage Matthew Paris delights in theſe heavenly digreſſions. But the viſions, to which the preceding verſes particularly allude, are thoſe of the Virgin Flotilda, printed in the 2d volume of the Hiſtoriae Francorum Scriptores, by the learned Du Cheſne: A very ſhort ſpecimen may ſatisfy the curioſity of the Reader—Videbatur Canis candidus eidem adgandere, quem tamen illa timens pertranſiit, & ad quendam locum in medium decentium clericorum pervenit, qui eam gratanter excipiebant, et potum ei in vaſe pulcherrimo quaſi aquam clariſſimam offerebant.—P. 624.

Appendix A.2.3 NOTE III. VERSE 24.

With thoſe dear gifts, the Meadow, and the Mill.] The uſual legacy of the old Barons to their monaſtic dependants.

Appendix A.2.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 59.

[112]

If mitred Turpin told, in wildeſt ſtrain.] It is now generally agreed, that the Hiſtory which bears the name of Turpin, Archbiſhop of Rheims, was the forgery of a Monk, at the time of the Cruſades, though Pope Calixtus the Second declare it to be authentic.—But, as it was certainly intended to paſs as genuine Hiſtory, whenever it was compoſed, and actually did ſo for ſome ages, this poetical mention of it appeared not improper. For the entertainment of the curious reader, I ſhall tranſcribe the two miraculous paſſages alluded to in the poem:—Ante diem belli, caſtris et arietibus & turmis praeparatis in pratis, ſcilicet quae ſunt inter caſtrum, quod dicitur Talaburgum, & urbem, juxta fluvium Caranta, infixerunt Chriſtiani quidam haſtas ſuas erectas in terra ante caſtra, craſtina vero die baſtas ſuas corticibus & frondibus decoratas invenerunt; hi ſcilicet qui in bello praeſenti accepturi erant martyrii palmam pro Chriſti fide.—Qui etiam tanto miraculo Dei gaviſi, abſciſſis haſtis ſuis de terra, ſimul coaduniti primitus in bello perierunt, & multos Saracenos occiderunt, ſed tandem Martyrio coronantur. Cap. X.

After the ſoliloquy of Roland, addreſſed to his ſword, which moſt readers have ſeen quoted in Mr. Warton's excellent Obſervations on Spenſer, the Hiſtorian proceeds thus:—Timens ne in manus Saracenorum deveniret, percuſſit ſpata lapidem marmoreum trino ictu; a ſummo uſque deorſum lapis dividitur, & gladius biceps illaeſus educitur.—Deinde tuba ſua coepit altiſona tonitruare, ſi forte aliqui ex Chriſtianis, qui per nemora Saracenorum timore latitabant, ad ſe venirent. Vel ſi illi, qui portus jam tranſierant, forte ad ſe redirent, ſuoque funeri adeſſent, ſpatamque ſuam & equum acciperent, et Saracenos perſequerentur. Tunc tanta virtute tuba ſua eburnea inſonuit, quod flatu omnis ejus tuba per [113] medium ſciſſa, & venae colli ejus & nervi rupti fuiſſe feruntur, cujus vox ad aures Caroli, qui in valle quae Caroli dicitur, cum exercitu ſuo tentoria fixerat, loco ſcilicet, qui diſtabat a Carolo octo milliaribus verſus Gaſconiam, Angelico ductu pervenit.

Cap. xxii. & xxiii.

Appendix A.2.5 NOTE V. VERSE 65.

Yet modeſt Aeginhard, with grateful care.] The celebrated Secretary and ſuppoſed Son-in-law of Charlemain; who is ſaid to have been carried through the ſnow on the ſhoulders of the affectionate and ingenious Imma, to prevent his being tracked from her apartment by the Emperor her father: a ſtory which the elegant pen of Addiſon has copied and embelliſhed from an old German Chronicle, and inſerted in the 3d volume of the Spectator.—This happy lover (ſuppoſing the ſtory to be true) ſeems to have poſſeſſed a heart not unworthy of ſo enchanting a miſtreſs, and to have returned her affection with the moſt faithful attachment; for there is a letter of Aeginhard's ſtill extant, lamenting the death of his wife, which is written in the tendereſt ſtrain of connubial affliction—it does not however expreſs that this lady was the affectionate Princeſs, and indeed ſome late critics have proved, that Imma was not the daughter of Charlemain.—But to return to our Hiſtorian.—He was a native of Germany, and educated by the munificence of his imperial maſter, of which he has left the moſt grateful teſtimony in his Preface to the Life of that Monarch— the paſſage may ſerve to ſhew both the amiable mind of the Hiſtorian, and the elegance of his ſtyle, conſidering the age in which he wrote:—Suberat & alia non irrationabilis, ut opinor cauſa, quae vel ſola ſufficere poſſet, ut me ad haec ſoribenda compelleret; nutrimentum videlicet in me impenſum, & perpetua, poſtquam in aula ejus converſari coepi, cum ipſo ac liberis ejus amicitia, qua me ita ſibi devinxit, debitoremque tam vivo quam [114] mortuo conſtituit; ut merito ingratus videri & judicari poſſem, ſi tot beneficiorum in me collatorum immemor clariſſima & illuſtriſſima hominis optime de me meriti geſta ſilentio praeterirem: patererque vitam ejus quaſi qui nunquam vixerit fine literis ac debita laude manere; cui ſcribendae atque explicandae non meum ingeniolum, quod exile & parvum imo nullum pene eſt, ſed Tullianam par erat deſudare facundiam.—The terms in which he ſpeaks of Charlemain's being unable to write are as follow:—Tentabat & ſcribere fabulaſque & codicellos ad hoc in lectulo ſub cervicalibus circumferre ſolebat, ut cum vacuum tempus eſſet, manum effigiundis literis aſſuefaceret. Sed parum proſperè ſucceſſit labor praepoſterus, ac ſerò inchoatus.—Aeginhard, after the loſs of his lamented wife, is ſuppoſed to have paſſed the remainder of his days in religious retirement, and to have died ſoon after the year 840.— His Life of Charlemain, his Annals from 741 to 829, and his Letters, are all inſerted in the 2d volume of Ducheſne's Scriptores Francorum. But there is an improved edition of this valuable Hiſtorian, with the Annotations of Hermann Schmincke, in Quarto 1711.

Appendix A.2.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 79.

If Britiſh Geoffrey fill'd his motley page

With Merlin's ſpells and Uther's amorous rage.] The firſt of the two excellent diſſertations prefixed to Mr. Warton's Hiſtory of Engliſh Poetry, gives the moſt perfect account of this famous old Chronicler and his whimſical performance.—"About the year 1100, Gualter, Archdeacon of Oxford, a learned man, and a diligent collector of Hiſtories, travelling through France, procured in Armorica an antient Chronicle, written in the Britiſh or Armorican language, entitled, Brut-y-Brenhined, or the Hiſtory of the Kings of Britain. This book he brought into England, and communicated it to Geoffrey of Monmouth, a Welſh Benedictine [115] Monk, an elegant writer of Latin, and admirably ſkilled in the Britiſh tongue. Geoffrey, at the requeſt and recommendation of Gualter the Archdeacon, tranſlated this Britiſh Chronicle into Latin, executing the Tranſlation with a tolerable degree of purity, and great fidelity, yet not without ſome interpolations.—It was probably finiſhed after the year 1138."—"The ſimple ſubject of this Chronicle, diveſted of its romantic embelliſhments, is a deduction of the Welſh Princes from the Trojan Brutus to Cadwallader, who reigned in the ſeventh century." To this extract from Mr. Warton, it may be proper to add a conciſe account of that romantic embelliſhment, to which I have particularly alluded:—Uther Pendragon, at the feſtival of his coronation, falls in love with Igerna, the wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall; and being prevented from, purſuing his addreſſes by the vigilance of the huſband, he applies to the magical power of Merlin for the completion of his deſire.— This he obtains by being transformed into the perſon of Gorlois, and thus introducing himſelf to the deluded Igerna, as Jupiter viſited Alcmena, he gives birth to the celebrated Arthur.—Manſit itaque rex ea nocte cum Igerna & ſeſe deſiderata venere refecit. Deceperat namque illam falſa ſpecies quam aſſumpſerat: deceperat etiam fictitiis ſermonibus, quos ornate componebat . . . unde ipſa credula nihil quod poſcebatur abnegavit. Concepit itaque eadem nocte celeberrimum illum Arthurum, qui poſtmodum ut celebris eſſet, mira probitate promeruit.

GALFRIDUS Mon. Lib. vi. cap. 2.

Appendix A.2.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 83.

Yet Life's great drama, and the Deeds of men.

Sage Monk of Malm'ſbury! engag'd thy pen.] William, ſurnamed of Malmeſbury from being a member of that church, was a native of Somerſetſhire, and is ſuppoſed to have received his education at Oxford. He is juſtly called, by almoſt every writer on Engliſh [114] [...] [115] [...] [116] Hiſtory, the moſt liberal and judicious of all our monaſtic Hiſtorians. His principal work is a Hiſtory of our Kings, from the arrival of the Saxons to the 20th year of Henry the Firſt. This was followed by two books of later Hiſtory, which cloſe with the celebrated eſcape of the Empreſs Matilda from the Caſtle of Oxford, 1142. Theſe works are both addreſſed to that munificent patron of merit, Robert Earl of Glouceſter, natural ſon of Henry the Firſt, who was perhaps the moſt exalted and accompliſhed character, that ever flouriſhed in ſo barbarous an age. The Hiſtorian ſpeaks of his noble friend with all the ſimplicity of truth, and all the warmth of virtuous admiration. He died, according to Pitts, in 1143, three years before his generous patron; and this is probable, from his not purſuing his Hiſtory, which he intimates a deſign of reſuming.—Yet there is a paſſage preſerved in Tanner, from the Preface to his Comments on Jeremiah, which ſeems to prove, that he lived to a later period, ſince he mentions his hiſtorical works as the production of his younger days, and ſpeaks of his age as devoted to religious compoſition. Beſides his four books de geſtis Pontificum Anglorum, he wrote many works of the ſame pious turn, which the curious reader may ſee enumerated in Tanner's Bibliotheca.

Appendix A.2.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 136.

A faithful Chronicler in plain Froiſſart.] John Froiſſart, Canon and Treaſurer of the collegiate church of Chimay, in Henault, was born at Valenciennes, a city of that province, in 1337, according to the conjecture of that elaborate and ingenious antiquarian Mr. de St. Palaye; who has amply illuſtrated the Life and Writings of this engaging Hiſtorian, in a ſeries of diſſertations among the Memoirs of the French Academy, Vol. X. 13, 14.—St. Palaye imagines, from a paſſage in the MS Poems of Froiſſart, that his father was a painter of Armories:—and it is certain the Hiſtorian diſcovers a [117] paſſion for all the pomp and all the minutiae of heraldry of that martial age; and Froiſſart, more the prieſt of gallantry than of religion, devoted himſelf entirely to the celebration of love and war. —At the age of 20, he began to write Hiſtory, at the requeſt de ſon eber Seigneur & Maitre Meſſire Robert de Namur, Chevalier Seigneur de Beaufort.—The anguiſh of unſucceſsful love drove him early into England, and his firſt voyage ſeems a kind of emblem of his future life; for he ſailed hither in a ſtorm, yet continued writing a rondeau in ſpite of the tempeſt, till he found himſelf on that coaſt, ou l'on aime mieux la guerre, que la paix, & ou les eſtrangers ſont très-bien venus, as he ſaid of our country in his verſes, and happily experienced in his kind reception at court, where Philippa of Henault, the Queen of Edward the Third, and a Patroneſs of learning, diſtinguiſhed the young Hiſtorian, her countryman, by the kindeſt protection; and, finding that love had rendered him unhappy, ſupplied him with money and with horſes, that he might preſent himſelf with every advantage before the object of his paſſion.—Love ſoon eſcorted him to his miſtreſs—but his addreſſes were again unſucceſsful; and, taking a ſecond voyage to England, he became Secretary to his royal patroneſs Philippa, in 1361, after having preſented to her ſome portion of his Hiſtory.—He continued five years in her ſervice, entertaining her majeſty de beaux dictiez & traictez amoureux: in this period he paid a viſit to Scotland, and was entertained 15 days by William Earl Douglas.—In 1366, when Edward the Black Prince was preparing for the war in Spain, Froiſſart was with him in Gaſcony, and hoped to attend him during the whole courſe of that important expedition:—but the Prince ſent him back to the Queen his mother.—He continued not long in England, as he viſited many of the Italian courts in the following year, and during his travels ſuſtained the irreparable loſs of that patroneſs, to whoſe bounty he had been ſo much indebted.—Philippa died 1369, and Froiſſart is reported to have [118] written the life of his amiable protectreſs; but of this performance, the reſearches of St. Palaye could diſcover no trace.

After this event, he retired to his own country, and obtained the benefice of Leſtines, in the dioceſe of Cambray.—But the cure of ſouls was an office little ſuited to the gay and gallant Froiſſart.— His genius led him ſtill to travel from caſtle to caſtle, and from court to court, to uſe the words of Mr. Warton, who has made occaſional mention of our author, in his elegant Hiſtory of Engliſh Poetry.—Froiſſart now entered into the ſervice of the Duke of Brabant; and, as that Prince was himſelf a poet, Froiſſart collected all the compoſitions of his maſter, and adding ſome of his own, formed a kind of romance, which he calls

Un Livre de Meliador
Le Chevalier au ſoleil d'or,

and of which, in one of his later poems, he gives the following account:

Dedans ce Romant ſont encloſes
Toutes les chançons que jadis,
Dont l'ame ſoit en paradis,
Que fit le bon Duc de Braibant,
Wincelaus, dont on parla tant;
Car un prince fu amorous,
Gracious & chevalerous,
Et le livre me fit ja faire,
Par très grant amoureus à faire,
Coment qu'il ne le veiſt oncques.

The Duke died in 1384, before this work was completed; and Froiſſart ſoon found a new patron in Guy earl of Blois, on the marriage of whoſe Son he wrote a Paſtoral, entitled Le Temple d'Honneur.—The earl having requeſted him to reſume his Hiſtory, [119] he travelled for that purpoſe to the celebrated court of Gaſton earl of Foix, whoſe high reputation for every knightly virtue attracted to his reſidence at Orlaix, thoſe martial adventurers, from whoſe mouth it was the delight of Froiſſart to collect the materials of his Hiſtory.—The courteous Gaſton gave him the moſt flattering reception: he ſaid to him with a ſmile (& en bon François) "qu'il le connoiſſoit bien, quoyqu'il ne l'euſt jamais veu, mais qu'il avoit bien oui parler de luy, & le retint de ſon hoſtel."—It became a favourite amuſement of the Earl, to hear Froiſſart read his Romance of Meliador after ſupper.—He attended in the caſtle every night at 12, when the Earl ſate down to table, liſtened to him with extreme attention, and never diſmiſſed him, till he had made him vuider tout ce qui eſtoit reſté du vin de ſa bouche.—Froiſſart gained much information here, not only from his patron, who was himſelf very communicative, but from various Knights of Arragon and England, in the retinue of the Duke of Lancaſter, who then reſided at Bordeaux.—After a long reſidence in this brilliant court, and after receiving a preſent from the liberal Gaſton, which he mentions in the following verſes:

Je pris congé & li bons Contes
Me fit par ſa chambre des comptes
Delivrer quatrevins florins
D'Arragon, tous peſans & fins
Et mon livre, qu'il m'ot laiſſé.

Froiſſart departed in the train of the Counteſs of Boulogne, related to the earl of Foix, and juſt leaving him, to join her new huſband the Duke of Berry.—In this expedition our Hiſtorian was robbed near Avignon, and laments the unlucky adventure in a very long poem, from which Mr. de St. Palaye has drawn many particulars of his life. The ground-work of this poem (which is not in the liſt of our Author's poetical pieces, that Mr. Warton has given us from Paſquier) ſeems to have a ſtrong vein of humour.—It is a [120] dialogue between the Poet and the ſingle Florin that he has left out of the many which he had either ſpent, or been obliged to ſurrender to the robbers.—He repreſents himſelf as a man of the moſt expenſive turn: in 25 years he had ſquandered two thouſand franks, beſides his eccleſiaſtical revenues. The compoſition of his works had coſt him 700; but he regretted not this ſum, as he expected to be amply repaid for it by the praiſe of poſterity.

After having attended all the feſtivals on the marriage of the Duke of Berry, having traverſed many parts of France, and paid a viſit to Zeland, he returned to his own country in 1390, to continue his Hiſtory from the various materials he had collected.—But not ſatisfied with the relations he had heard of the war in Spain, he went to Middlebourgh in Zeland, in purſuit of a Portugueze Knight, Jean Ferrand Portelet, vaillant homme & ſage, & du Conſeil du Roy de Portugal. From this accompliſhed ſoldier Froiſſart expected the moſt perfect information, as an ocular witneſs of thoſe ſcenes, which he now wiſhed to record.—The courteous Portelet received our indefatigable Hiſtorian with all the kindneſs which his enthuſiaſm deſerved, and in ſix days, which they paſſed together, gave him all the intelligence he deſired.—Froiſſart now returned home, and finiſhed the third book of his Hiſtory.—Many years had paſt ſince he had bid adieu to England: taking advantage of the truce then eſtabliſhed between France and that country, he paid it another viſit in 1395, with letters of recommendation to the King and his uncles.—From Dover he proceeded to Canterbury, to pay his devoirs at the ſhrine of Thomas of Becket, and to the memory of the Black Prince.—Here he happened to find the ſon of that hero, the young King Richard, whom devotion had alſo brought to make his offerings to the faſhionable Saint, and return thanks to Heaven for his ſucceſſes in Ireland.—Froiſſart ſpeaks of this adventure, and his own feelings on the great change of ſcene that had taken place ſince his laſt viſit to England, in the following natural and lively terms:—Le Roy . . . vint . . a trez grant arroy, et bien accompaigne [121] de ſeignneurs, de dames et demoiſelles, et me mis entre eulx, & entre elles, et tout me ſembla nouvel, ne je ny congnoiſſoye perſonne; car le tems eſtoit bien change en Angleterre depuis le tems de vingt & huyt ans: et en la compagnie du roy n'avoit nuls de ſes oncles . . . . ſi fus du premier ainſi que tout eſbahy . . . Tho' Froiſſart was thus embarraſſed in not finding one of his old friends in the retinue of the King, he ſoon gained a new Patron in Thomas Percy, Maſter of the Houſehold, who offered to preſent him and his letters to Richard; but this offer happening on the eve of the King's departure, it proves too late for the ceremony— Le Roy eſtoit retrait pour aller dormir.—And on the morrow, when the impatient Hiſtorian attended early at the Archbiſhop's palace, where the king ſlept, his friend Percy adviſed him to wait a more convenient ſeaſon for being introduced to Richard.—Froiſſart acquieſced in this advice, and was conſoled for his diſappointment by falling into company with an Engliſh Knight, who had attended the King in Ireland, and was very willing to gratify the curioſity of the Hiſtorian by a relation of his adventure.—This was William de Liſle, who entertained him, as they rode along together, with the marvels of St. Patrick's Cave, in which he aſſured him he had paſſed a night, and ſeen wonderful viſions.—Though our honeſt Chronicler is commonly accuſed of a paſſion for the marvellous, with an exceſs of credulity, he ſays very ſenſibly on this occaſion, de cette matiere je ne luy parlay plus avant, et m'en ceſſay, car voulentiers je luy euſſe demande du voyage d'Irlande, et luy eu voulaye parler, et mettre en voye.—It appears plainly from this paſſage, that our Hiſtorian was more anxious to gain information concerning the ſcenes of real action, than to liſten to the extravagant fictions of a popular legend.—But here he was again diſappointed.—New companions joined them on the road, and their hiſtorical conference was thus interrupted.—Theſe mortifications were ſoon repaid by the kind reception he met with from the Duke of York, who ſaid to him, when he received the recommendatory [122] letter from the Earl of Henault, "Maiſtre Jehan tenez vous toujour deles nous, & nos gens, nous vous ferons tout amour & courtoiſie, nous y ſommes tenus pour l'amour du tems paſſé & de notre dame de mere à qui vous futes; nous en avons bien la ſouvenance."—With theſe flattering marks of remembrance and favour the Duke preſented him to the King, lequel me receut joyeuſement et doulcement (continues Froiſſart) . . et ne diſt que je fuſſe le bien venus et ſi j'avoye eſte de l'hoſtel du Roy ſon Ayeul & de Madame ſon Ayeule encores eſtoys je de l'hoſtel d'Angleterre. —Some time however elapſed, before he had an opportunity of preſenting his romance of Meliador, which he had prepared for the King.—The Duke of York and his other friends at length obtained for him this honour: He gives the following curious and particular account of the ceremony: et voulut veoir le Roy mon livre, que je luy avoye apporte. Si le vit en ſa chambre: car tout pourveu je l'avoye, et luy mis ſur ſon lict. Er lors il l'ouvrit et regarda dedans, et luy pleut tres grandement. Et plaire bien luy devoit: car il eſtoit enlumine, eſcrit et Hiſtorie, & couvert de vermeil veloux a dix cloux d'argent dorez d'or et roſes d'or ou meillieu a deux gros fermaulx dorez et richement ouvrez ou meillieu roſiers d'or. Adonc me demanda le Roy de quoy il traictoit: et je luy dis d'amours. De ceſte reſponce fut tout resjouy, et regarda dedans le livre en pluſieurs lieux, et y lyſit, car moult bien parloit et lyſoit Françoys, et puis le fiſt prendre par ung ſien Chevalier, qui ſe nomme Meſſire Richard Credon, et porter en ſa chambre de retrait dont il me fiſt bonne chere.

After paſſing three month in this court, Froiſſart took his leave of the munificent but ill-fated Richard. In the laſt chapter of his Hiſtory, where he mentions the unfortunate end of this Monarch, he ſpeaks with an honeſt and affecting gratitude of the liberal preſent he received from him on his departure from England.—It was a goblet of ſilver gilt, weighing two marks, and filled with a hundred nobles.

[123]On leaving England, he retired to his own country, and is ſuppoſed to have ended his days at his benefice of Chimay, but the year of his death is uncertain.—There is an antient tradition in the country, ſays Mr. de Saint Palaye, that he was buried in the chapel of St. Anne, belonging to his own church.—That ingenious antiquarian produces an extract from its archives, in which the death of Froiſſart is recorded, but without naming the year, in the moſt honourable terms.—His obit bears the date of October, and is followed by 20 Latin verſes, from which I ſelect ſuch as appear to me the moſt worth tranſcribing.

Gallorum ſublimis honos, & fama tuorum,
Hic Froiſſarde jaces, ſi modo ſorte jaces.
Hiſtorie vivus ſtuduiſti reddere vitam,
Defuncto vitam reddet at illa tibi.
Proxima dum propriis florebit Francia ſcriptis,
*Famia dum ramos, * Blancaque fundet aquas,
Urbis ut hujus honos, templi ſic fama vigebis,
Teque ducem Hiſtorie Gallia tota colet,
Belgica tota colet, Cymeaque vallis amabit,
Dum rapidus proprios Scaldis obibit agros.

As I have never met with any ſatisfactory account of Froiſſart's life in our language, I have been tempted to ſwell this Note to an inordinate length; yet it ſeems to me ſtill neceſſary to add a few lines more concerning the character both of the Hiſtorian and the Poet.—A long ſeries of French Critics, to whom even the judicious Bayle has been tempted to give credit, have ſeverely cenſured Froiſſart, as the venal partizan of the Engliſh, and they have accuſed his laſt Editor, Sauvage, of mutilating his author, becauſe they could find in his edition on proofs of their charge.—The amiable St. Palaye has defended le bon Froiſſart, as he is called by honeſt Montaigne, [124] from this unjuſt accuſation, and done full juſtice at the ſame time to the injured reputation of his exact and laborious editor.

It may ſerve as a kind of memento mori to poetical vanity to reflect, that Froiſſart is hardly known as a Poet, though his fertile pen produced 30,000 verſes, which were once the delight of Princes, and the favourite ſtudy of the gallant and the fair.—How far he deſerved the oblivion, into which his poetical compoſitions have fallen, the reader may conceive from the following judgment of his French Critic; with whoſe ingenious reflection on the imperfections attending the early ſtate both of Poetry and Painting, I ſhall terminate this Note.

On peut dire en général au ſujet des Poeſies de Froiſſart, que l'invention pour les ſujets lui manquoit antant que l'imagination pour les ornemens; du reſte le ſtyle qu'il employe, moins abondant que diffus, offre ſouvent la répétition ennuyeuſe des mêmes tours, & des mêmes phraſes, pour rendre des idées aſſez communes: cependant la ſimplicité et la liberté de ſa verſification ne ſont pas toûjours dépourvûes de graces, on y rencontre de tems en tems quelques images & pluſieurs vers de ſuite dont l'expreſſion eſt aſſez heureuſe.

Tel étoit alors l'état de notre Poeſie Françoiſe, et le ſort de la Peinture étoit à peu près le meme. Ces deux arts que l'on a taujours comparez enſemble paroiſſent avoir eu une marche preſqu' uniforme dans leur progrès. Les Peintres au ſortir de la plus groſſiére barbarie, ſaiſiſſant d'abord en détail tous les petits objets que la nature leur preſentoit, s'attachérent aux inſectes, aux fleurs, aux oiſeaux, les perérent des couleurs les plus vives, les deſſinérent avec une exactitude que nous admirons encore dans les vignettes & dans les miniatures des manuſcrits; lorſqu'ils vinrent à repréſenter des figures humaines, ils s'étudiérent bien plus à terminer les contours & à exprimer juſqu' aux cheveux les plus fins, qu'à donner de l'ame aux viſages & du mouvement aux corps; et ces figures dont la nature la plus commune fourniſſoit toujours les [125] modelles, étoient jettées enſemble au hazard, ſans choix, ſans ordonnance, ſans aucun goût de compoſition.

Les Poetes auſſi ſtériles que les Peintres, bornoient toute leur induſtrie à ſcavoir amener des deſcriptions proportionnées à leur talens, et ils ne les quittoient qu'après les avoir épuiſées; ils ne ſçavent guéres parler que d'un beau printems, de la verdure des campagnes, de l'émail des prairies, du ramage de mille eſpeces d'oiſeaux, de la clarté et de la vivacité d'une belle fontaine ou d'un ruiſſeau qui murmure; quelquefois cependant ils rendent avec naïveté les amuſemens enfantins des amans, leurs ris, leurs jeux, les palpitations ou la joie d'un coeur amoreux; ils n'imaginent rien au delà, incapable d'ailleurs de donner de la ſuite et de la liaiſon à leurs idées.

Notice de Poeſies de Froiſſart; Memories de l'Academie,

Tom. xiv. p. 225.

Appendix A.2.9 NOTE IX. VERSE 184.

Thy Favour, like the Sun's prolific ray,

Brought the keen Scribe of Florence into Day.] Nicholas Machiavel, the celebrated Florentine, was firſt patronized by Leo, who cauſed one of his comedies to be acted with great magnificence at Rome, and engaged him to write a private Treatiſe de Reformatione Reipublicae Florentinae. His famous political Eſſay, entitled, "The Prince," was publiſhed in 1515, and dedicated to the Nephew of that Pontiff. The various judgments that have been paſſed on this ſingular performance are a ſtriking proof of the incertitude of human opinion.—In England it has received applauſe from the great names of Bacon and Clarendon, who ſuppoſe it intended to promote the intereſt of liberty and virtue. In Italy, after many years of approbation, it was publicly condemned by Clement the VIIIth, at the inſtigation of a Jeſuit, who had not read the book. In France it has even been ſuppoſed inſtrumental to the horrid [126] maſſacre of St. Bartholomew, as the favourite ſtudy of Catherine of Medicis and her Sons, and as teaching the bloody leſſons of extirpation, which they ſo fatally put in practice. Yet one of his French Tranſlators has gone ſo far as to ſay, that "Machiavel, who paſſes among all the world for a teacher of Tyranny, deteſted it more than any man of the age, in which he lived." It muſt however be owned, that there is a great mixture of good and evil in his political precepts. For the latter many plauſible apologies have been made; and it ſhould be remembered to his honour, that his great aim was to promote the welfare of his country, in exciting the Houſe of Medicis to deliver Italy from the invaſion of foreigners.

He is ſaid to have been made Hiſtoriographer of Florence, as a reward for having ſuffered the torture on ſuſpicion of conſpiring againſt the government of that city, having ſupported the ſevere trial with unfailing reſolution. His Hiſtory of that republic he wrote at the requeſt of Clement the VIIth, as we are informed in his Dedication of it to that Pontiff. The ſtyle of this work is much celebrated, and the firſt Book may be regarded as a model of Hiſtorical abridgment.—He died, according to Paul Jovius, in 153O.

Appendix A.2.10 NOTE X. VERSE 194.

Nor leſs, O Leo, was it thine to raiſe

The great Hiſtoric Chief of modern days.] Francis Guicciardin, born at Florence 1482, of an antient and noble family, was appointed a Profeſſor of Civil Law in that city at the age of 23. In 1512 he was ſent Embaſſador to Ferdinand King of Arragon; and ſoon after his return deputed by the Republic to meet Leo the Xth at Cortona, and attend him on his public entry into Florence.—That diſcerning Pontiff immediately became his Patron, and raiſed him to the government of Modena and Reggio. He [127] ſucceeded to that of Parma, which he defended with great ſpirit againſt the French, on the death of Leo.—He roſe to the higheſt honours under Clement the VIIth, having the command of all the eccleſiaſtical forces, and being Governor of Romagna, and laſtly of Bologna, in which city he is ſaid to have received the moſt flattering compliments from the Emperor Charles V.—Having gained much reputation, both civil and military, in various ſcenes of active life, he paſſed his latter days in retirement, at his villa near Florence, where he died ſoon after completing his Hiſtory, in the 59th year of his age, 1540. Notwithſtanding the high reputation of Guicciardin, his Hiſtory has been violently attacked, both as to matter and ſtyle.—The honeſt Montaigne inveighs with great warmth againſt the malignant turn of its author; and his own countryman Boccalini, in whoſe whimſical but lively work there are many excellent remarks on Hiſtory and Hiſtorians, ſuppoſes a Lacedaemonian thrown into agonies by a ſingle page of Guicciardin, whom he is condemned to read, for having himſelf been guilty of uſing three words inſtead of two. The poor Spartan cries for mercy, and declares that any tortures are preferable to the prolixity of ſuch a Writer.—This celebrated Hiſtorian was alſo Poet. The three following verſes are the beginning of an Epiſtle, which he entitled Supplicazione d'Italia al Chriſtianiſſimo Rè Franceſco I.

Italia afflitta, nuda, e miſeranda,
Ch' or de Principi ſuoi ſtanca ſi lagna
A Te, Franceſco, queſta Carta manda.

They are preſerved in Creſcimbeni della volgar Poeſia. Vol. v. p. 132.

Appendix A.2.11 NOTE XI. VERSE 204.

With equal wreaths let Davila be crown'd.] Henry Catherine Davila was the youngeſt ſon of Antonio Davila, Grand Conſtable of Cyprus, [128] who had been obliged to retire into Spain on the taking of that iſland by the Turks in 1570. From Spain Antonio repaired to the court of France, and ſettled his ſon Lewis and two daughters under the patronage of Catherine of Medicis, whoſe name he afterwards gave to the young Hiſtorian, born 1576, at an antient caſtle in the territories of Padua, though generally called a native of Cyprus. The little Davila was brought early into France;— at the age of 18 he ſignalized himſelf in the military ſcenes of that country. His laſt exploit there was at the ſiege of Amiens, where he fought under Henry IV, and received a wound in the knee, as he relates himſelf in his Hiſtory.—After peace was eſtabliſhed in France, he withdrew into Italy, and ſerved the Republic of Venice with great reputation till a moſt unfortunate adventure put an end to his life in 1631.—Paſſing through Verona with his wife and family, on his way to Crema, which he was appointed to defend, and demanding, according to the uſual cuſtom of perſons in his ſtation, a ſupply of horſes and carriages for his retinue, a brutal Veroneſe, called il Turco, entered the room where he and his family were at ſupper, and being mildly reprimanded for his intruſion by Davila, diſcharged a piſtol at the Hiſtorian, and ſhot him dead on the inſtant.—His accomplices alſo killed the Chaplain of Davila, and wounded many of his attendants. But his eldeſt ſon Antonio, a noble youth of eighteen, revenged the death of his father by killing his murderer on the ſpot. All the confederates were ſecured the next morning, and publicly executed at Verona.—Memoire Iſtoriche, prefixed to the London edition of Davila, 4to, 1755.—It is very remarkable, that Davila paſſes no cenſure on the Maſſacre of St. Bartholomew.—His character of the Queen Mother has that partiality, which it was natural for him to ſhew to the Patroneſs of his family; but his general veracity is confirmed by the great authority of the firſt Duke of Epernon, who, (to uſe the words of Lord Bolingbroke) "had been an actor, and a principal actor too, in many of the ſcenes that Davila recites." [129] Girard, Secretary to this Duke, and no contemptible Biographer, relates, that this Hiſtory came down to the place where the old man reſided, in Gaſcony, a little before his death; that he read it to him; that the Duke confirmed that truth of the narrations in it: and ſeemed only ſurpriſed by what means the author could be ſo well informed of the moſt ſecret councils and meaſures of thoſe times."—Letters on Hiſtory.

Appendix A.2.12 NOTE XII. VERSE 226.

Sarpi, bleſt name! from every foible clear.] Father Paul, the moſt amiable and exalted character that was ever formed in monaſtic retirement, was the ſon of Franceſco Sarpi, a merchant of Venice, and born in that city, 1552. He took the religious habit in the monaſtery of the Servites, 1565. After receiving prieſt's orders in 1574, he paſſed four years in Mantua, being appointed to read Lectures on Divinity and Canon Law, by the Biſhop of that dioceſe; and in this early part of his life, he is conjectured to have conceived the firſt idea of writing his celebrated Hiſtory, as he formed an intimate friendſhip, during his reſidence in Mantua, with Camillo d'Oliva, who had been Secretary to Cardinal Gonzaga at the Council of Trent, and excited the learned Venetian to the arduous taſk, which he ſo happily accompliſhed in a future period. He was recalled from Mantua, to read Lectures on Philoſophy in his own convent at Venice, which he did with great reputation, during the years 1575, 1576, and 1577.—He went to Rome as Procurator General in 1585. Paſſing from thence to Naples, he there formed an acquaintance with the famous Baptiſta Porta, who has left this honourable teſtimony of his univerſal knowledge: —Eo doctiorem, ſubtiliorem, quotquot adhuc videre contigerit, neminem cognovimus; natum ad Encyclopediam, &c. Nor is this an exaggerated compliment, as there is hardly any ſcience which eſcaped his active mind. His diſcoveries in Optics and Anatomy would be alone ſufficient to immortalize his name, had he not [130] gained immortality by a ſtill nobler exertion of his mental powers, in defending the liberties of his country againſt the tyranny of Rome. On the firſt attack of Pope Paul V. on two laws of Venice, very wiſely framed to correct the abuſes of the clergy, Father Paul aroſe as the literary champion of the Republic, and defended its cauſe with great ſpirit and temper, in various compoſitions; though he is ſaid not to be Author of the Treatiſe generally aſcribed to him on the occaſion, and entitled, The Rights of Sovereigns, &c.—His chief performance on the ſubject was Conſiderazioni ſopra le Cenſure di Paolo V. The Venetians ſhewed a juſt admiration of the ſublime virtue of a Monk, who defended ſo nobly the civil rights of his country againſt the ſeparate intereſt of the church. In 1606 the Council paſſed a decree in his favour; which I ſhall tranſcribe in this note, becauſe it is not found in the common Lives of Father Paul, and becauſe there is hardly any object more pleaſing to the mind, than the contemplation of a free ſtate rewarding one of its moſt virtuous ſervants with liberality and eſteem.—Continuando il R. P. M. Paolo da Venezia dell ordine de Serviti a preſtare alla Signoria Noſtra con ſingolar Valore quell ottimo ſervigio, ch' è ben conoſciuto, potendoſi dire, ch' egli fra tutti con le ſue ſcritture piene di profonda dottrina ſoſtenti con validiſſimi fondamenti le potentiſſime e validiſſime ragioni noſtre nella cauſa, che ha di preſente la Repubblica con la corte di Roma, anteponende il ſervigio e la ſoddisfazione noſtra a qualſivoglia ſuo particolare ed importante riſpetto. E perciò coſa giuſta e ragionevole, e degna dell ordinaria munificenza di queſto Conſiglio, il dargli modo, con che poſſa aſſicurare la ſua Vita da ogni pericolo, che gli poteſſe ſopraſtare, e ſovvenire inſieme alli ſuoi biſogni, bench, egli non ne faccia alcuna iſtanza, ma piutoſto ſi moſtri alieno da qualſivoglia ricognizione, che ſi abbia intenzione di uſargli. Tal è la ſua modeſtia, e coſi grande il deſiderio, che ha di far conoſcere, che neſſuna pretenſione di premio, ma la ſola divozione ſua verſo la Repubblica, e lagiuſtizia della Cauſa lo muovano [131] adoperarſi con tanto ſtudio e con tante fatiche alii ſervizi noſtri. Percio anderà parte, che allo ſtipendio, il quale a' 28 del Meſe di Gennaio paſſato fu aſſegnato al ſopradetto R. P. M. Paolo da Venezia di Ducati duecento all anno, ſiano accreſciuti altri ducati duecento, ſicchè in avvenire abbia ducati quattrocento, acciòchè reſtando conſolato per queſta ſpontanea e benigna dimoſtrazione pubblica, con maggior ardore abbia a continuare nel ſuo buono e divoto ſervizio, e poſſa con queſto aſſequamento provvedere maggiormente alia ſicurezza della ſua Vita.—The generous care of the Republic to reward and preſerve ſo valuable a ſervant, could not ſecure him from the baſe attempts of that enemy, whom his virtue had provoked. In 1607, after Venice had adjuſted her diſputes with Rome, by the mediation of France, the firſt attack was made on the life of Father Paul. He was beſet near his convent, in the evening, by five aſſaſſins, who ſtabbed him in many places, and left him for dead. He recovered, under the care of the celebrated Acquapendente, appointed to attend him at the public charge; to whom, as he was ſpeaking on the depth of the principal wound, his patient ſaid pleaſantly, that the world imputed it ſtylo Romanae Curiae.— The crime is generally ſuppoſed to have proceeded from the Jeſuits; but the ſecret authors of it were never clearly diſcovered, though the five ruffians were traced by the Venetian Ambaſſador in Rome, where they are ſaid to have been well received at firſt, but failing afterwards in their expected reward, to have periſhed in miſery and want. The Senate of Venice paid ſuch attention to Father Paul, as expreſſed the higheſt ſenſe of his merit, and the moſt affectionate ſolicitude for his ſafety. They not only doubled his ſtipend a ſecond time, but entreated him to chuſe a public reſidence, for the greater ſecurity of his perſon. The munificence and care of the Republic was equalled by the modeſty and fortitude of their ſervant. He choſe not to relinquiſh his cell; and, though warned of various machinations againſt his life, he continued to ſerve his country with unabating zeal; diſcovering, in his private letters to [132] his friends, the moſt heroic calmneſs of mind, and ſaying, in anſwer to their admonitions, that "no man lives well, who is too anxious for the preſervation of life."—Yet the apprehenſions of his friends had too juſt a foundation. In 1609 another conſpiracy was formed, to murder him in his ſleep, by ſome perſons of his own convent—but their treachery was happily diſcovered.—From this time he lived in more cautious retirement, ſtill devoting himſelf to the ſervice of the Republic on various occaſions, and acquiring new reputation by many compoſitions. At the length the world was ſurprized by his Hiſtory of the Council of Trent, firſt publiſhed at London, 1619; with the fictitious name of Pietro Soave Polano; and dedicated to James the Iſt, by Antonio de Dominis, the celebrated Archbiſhop of Spalatto, who ſpeaks of the concealed Author as his intimate friend, who had entruſted him with a manuſcript, on which his modeſty ſet a trifling value, but which it ſeemed proper to beſtow upon the world even without his conſent.—The myſtery concerning the publication of this noble work has never been thoroughly cleared up, and various falſities concerning it have been reported by author of conſiderable reputation.—It has even been ſaid that James the Iſt had ſome ſhare in the compoſition of the book—if he had, it was probably in forming the name Pietro Soave Polano, which is an anagram of Paolo Sarpi Veneziano, and the only part of the book which bears any relation to the ſtyle or taſte of that Monarch.—Father Paul was ſoon ſuppoſed to be the real Author of the work in queſtion. The Prince of Condé, on a viſit to his cloyſter, expreſſly aſked him, if he was ſo—to which he modeſtly replied, that at Rome it was well known who had written it.—He enjoyed not many years the reputation ariſing from this maſterly production—in 1623 a fever occaſioned his death, which was even more exemplary and ſublime than his life itſelf. —He prepared himſelf for approaching diſſolution with the moſt devout compoſure, and, as the liberty of his country was the darling object of his exalted mind, he prayed for its preſervation [133] with his laſt breath, in the two celebrated words Eſto Perpetua.

There is a ſingular beauty in the character of Father Paul, which is not only uncommon in his profeſſion, but is rarely found in human nature.—Though he paſſed a long life in controverſy of the moſt exaſperating kind, and was continually attacked in every manner that malignity could ſuggeſt, both his writings and his heart appeared perfectly free from a vindictive ſpirit—devoting all the powers of his mind to the defence of the public cauſe, he ſeemed entirely to forget the injuries that were perpetually offered to his own perſon and reputation.

His conſtitution was extremely delicate, and his intenſe application expoſed him to very frequent and violent diſorders: theſe he greatly remedied by his ſingular temperance, living chiefly on bread, fruits, and water.—This imperfect account of a character deſerving the nobleſt elogium, is principally extracted from an octavo volume, entitled, Memoire Anedote ſpettanti a F. Paolo da Franceſco Griſelini Veneziano, &c. edit. 2d, 1760. The author of this elaborate work has pointed out ſeveral miſtakes in the French and Engliſh accounts of Father Paul; particularly in the anecdotes related of him by Burnet, in his Life of Biſhop Bedell, and by Mr. Brent, the ſon of his Engliſh Tranſlator.—Some of theſe had indeed been obſerved before by Writers of our own.—See the General Dictionary under the article Father Paul.—For the length and for the deficiencies of this Note, I am tempted to apologize with a ſentence borrowed from the great Hiſtorian who is the ſubject of it:—Chi mi oſſerverà in alcuni tempi abondare, in altri andar riſtretto, ſi ricordi che non tutti i campi ſono di ugnal fertilità, ne tutti li grani meritano d'eſſer conſervati, e di quelli che il mietitore vorrebbe tenerne conto, qualche ſpica aneo sfugge la preſa della mano, o il filo della falce, coſi comportando la conditione d'ogni mietitura che reſti anco parte per riſpigolare.

Appendix A.2.13 NOTE XIII. VERSE 254.

[134]

The clear Oſorius, in his claſſic phraſe.] Jerom Oſorius was born of a noble family at Liſbon, 1506. He was educated at the univerſity of Salamanca, and afterwards ſtudied at Paris and Bologna. On his return to Portugal, he gradually roſe to the Biſhopric of Sylves, to which he was appointed by Catherine of Auſtria, Regent of the kingdom in the minority of Sebaſtian. At the requeſt of Cardinal Henry of Portugal, he wrote his Hiſtory of King Emanuel, and the expedition of Gama—which his great contemporary Camoens made at the ſame time the ſubject of his immortal Luſiad; a poem which has at length appeared with due luſtre in our language, being tranſlated with great ſpirit and elegance by Mr. Mickle. It is remarkable, that the Hiſtory of Oſorius, and the Epic Poem of Camoens, were publiſhed in the ſame year, 1572: but the fate of theſe two great Authors was very different; the Poet was ſuffered to periſh in poverty, under the reign of that Henry, who patronized the Hiſtorian: yet, allowing for the difference of their profeſſions, I am inclined to think they poſſeſſed a ſimilarity of mind. There appear many traces of that high heroic ſpirit, even in the Prieſt Oſorius, which animated the Soldier Camoens: particularly in the pleaſure, with which he ſeems to deſcribe the martial manners of his countrymen, under the reign of Emanuel.—Illius aetate (ſays the Hiſtorian, in the cloſe of his manly work) inopia in exilium pulſa videbatur: maeſtitiae locus non erat: querimoniae ſilebant: omnia choreis & cantibus perſonabant: ejuſmodi ludis aula regia frequenter oblectabatur. Nobiles adoleſcentes cum virginibus regiis in aulâ ſine ulla libidinis ſignificatione ſaltabant, et quamvis honeſtiſſimis amoribus indulgerent, virginibus erat inſitum, neminem ad familiaritatem admittere, niſi illum qui aliquid fortiter & animoſe bellicis in rebus effeciſſet. Pueris enim nobilibus, qui in aula regia verſabantur, non erat licitum pallium virile ſumere, [135] antequam in Africam trajicerent & aliquod inde decus egregium reportarent. Et his quidem moribus erat illius temporis nobilitas inſtituta, ut multi ex illius domo viri omni laude cumulati prodirent.—This is a ſtriking picture of the manners of chivalry, to which Portugal owed much of its glory in that ſplendid period. There is one particular in the character of Oſorius, which, conſidering his age and country, deſerves the higheſt encomium; I mean his tolerating ſpirit. In the firſt book of his Hiſtory, he ſpeaks of Emanuel's cruel perſecution of the Jews in the following generous and exalted language:—Fuit quidem hoc nec ex lege nec ex religione factum. Quid enim? Tu rebelles animos nullaque ad id ſuſcepta religione conſtrictos, adigas ad credendum ea, quae ſumma contentione aſpernantur & reſpuunt? Idque tibi aſſumas, ut libertatem voluntatis impedias, & vincula mentibus effraenatis injicias? at id neque fiori poteſt, neque Chriſti ſanctiſſimum numen approbat. Voluntarium enim ſacrificium, non vi et malo coactum ab hominibus expetit, neque vim mentibus inferri ſed voluntates ad ſtudium verae religionis allici & invitari jubet. . . . . Poſtremo quis non videt. . . . . . et ita religionem per religionis ſimulationem undigniſſime violari?—Oſorius is ſaid to have uſed many arguments to diſſuade Sebaſtian from his unfortunate expedition into Africa, and to have felt ſo deeply the miſeries which befell the Portugueze after that fatal event, that his grief was ſuppoſed to accelerate his death.— He expired in 1580, happy, ſays De Thou (who celebrates him as a model of Chriſtian virtue) that he died juſt before the Spaniſh army entered Portugal, and thus eſcaped being a witneſs to the deſolation of his country.—His various works were publiſhed at Rome in 1592, by his nephew Oſorius, in four volumes folio, with a Life of their Author. Among theſe are two remarkable productions; the firſt, an admonition to our Queen Elizabeth, exhorting her to return into the Church of Rome: the ſecond, an Eſſay on Glory, written with ſuch claſſical purity, as to give [136] birth to a report, that it was not the compoſition of Oſorius, but the loſt work of Cicero on that ſubject.

Appendix A.2.14 NOTE XIV. VERSE 260.

Iberia's Genius bids juſt Fame allow

An equal wreath to Mariana's brow.] John Mariana was born 1537, at Talavera (a town in the dioceſe of Toledo) as he himſelf informs us in his famous Eſſay de Rege, which opens with a beautiful romantic deſcription of a ſequeſtered ſpot in that neighbourhood, where he enjoyed the pleaſures of literary retirement with his friend Calderon, a Miniſter of Toledo; whoſe death he mentions in the ſame Eſſay, commemorating his learning and his virtues in the moſt pleaſing terms of affectionate admiration.—Mariana was admitted into the order of Jeſuits at the age of 17. He travelled afterwards into Italy and France, and returning into Spain in 1574, ſettled at Toledo, and died there in the 87th year of his age, 1624. —Hearing it frequently regretted, in the courſe of his travels, that there was no General Hiſtory of his country, he engaged in that great work on his return; and publiſhed it in Latin at Toledo, 1592, with a dedication to Philip the IId; where he ſpeaks of his own performance with modeſty and manly freedom, and perhaps with as little flattery as ever appeared in any addreſs of that nature, to a Monarch continually fed with the groſſeſt adulation.— This elaborate work he tranſlated into Spaniſh, but, as he himſelf declares, with all the freedom of an original author. He publiſhed his Verſion in 1601, with an addreſs to Philip the IIId, in which he laments the decline of Learning in his country, and declares he had himſelf executed that work from his apprehenſion of its being mangled by an ignorant Tranſlator. He had cloſed his Hiſtory (which begins with the firſt peopling of Spain) with the death of Ferdinand, in 1516; but in a ſubſequent edition, in 1617, [137] he added to it a ſhort ſummary of events to the year 1612: but in the year before he firſt publiſhed the Spaniſh Verſion of his Hiſtory, he addreſſed alſo, to the young Monarch Philip the IIId, his famous Eſſay, which I have mentioned, and which was publicly burnt at Paris, about 20 years after its publication, on the ſuppoſition that it had excited Ravaillac to the murder of Henry the IVth; though it was aſſerted, with great probability, by the Jeſuits, that the Aſſaſſin had never ſeen the book.—It is true, indeed, that Mariana, in this Eſſay, occaſionally defends Clement the Monk, who ſtabbed Henry the IIId; and it is very remarkable, that he grounds this defence, not on the bigotted tenets of a Prieſt, who thinks every thing lawful for the intereſt of his church, but on thoſe ſublime principles of civil liberty, with which an antient Roman would have vindicated the dagger of Brutus. Indeed, this Eſſay contains ſome paſſages on Government, which would not have diſhonoured even Cicero himſelf; but, it muſt be owned, they are grievouſly diſgraced by the laſt chapter of the Work, which breathes a furious ſpirit of eccleſiaſtical intolerance, and yet cloſes with theſe mild and modeſt expreſſions: Noſtrum de regno et Regis inſtitutione judicium fortaſſe non omnibus placeat; qui volet ſequatur, aut ſuo potius ſtet, ſi potioribus argumentis nitatur, de quibus rebus tantopere aſſeveravi in his libris, eas nunquam veriores quam alienam ſententiam affirmabo. Poteſt enim non ſolum mihi aliud, aliud aliis videri, ſed et mihi ipſi alio tempore. Suam quiſque ſententiam per me ſequatur . . . et . . qui noſtra leget . . . memor conditionis humanae, ſi quid erratum eſt, pio ſtudio rempublicam juvandi veniam benignus concedat et facilis.—This is not the only work of Mariana which fell under a public proſcription; he was himſelf perſecuted, and ſuffered a year's impriſonment, for a treatiſe, which ſeems to have been dictated by the pureſt love to his country; it was againſt the pernicious practice of debaſing the public coin, and as it was ſuppoſed to reflect on the Duke of Lerma, called the Sejanus of Spain, it expoſed the Author, about the [138] year 1609, to the perſecution of that vindictive Miniſter; from which it does not appear how he eſcaped.—Indeed the accounts of Mariana's life are very imperfect: Bayle, whom I have chiefly followed, mentions a life of him by De Vargas, which he could not procure. I have ſought after this Biographer with the ſame ill ſucceſs, as I wiſhed to give a more perfect account of this great Author, whoſe perſonal Hiſtory is little known among us, though it is far from being unworthy of attention.

Appendix A.2.15 NOTE XV. VERSE 291.

The liberal ſpirit of Thuanus roſe.] James Auguſtus De Thou was the youngeſt ſon of Chriſtopher De Thou, Firſt Preſident of the Parliament of Paris, and born in that city, 1553. His own Memoirs give a pleaſing account of the early activity of his mind.— As his health, during his childhood, was ſo tender and infirm, that his parents rather reſtrained him from the uſual ſtudies of his age, he devoted much of his time to drawing, and copied with a pen the engravings of Albert Durer, before he was ten years old. At that age he was ſettled in the college of Burgundy; but this plan of his education was ſoon interrupted by a fever, in which his life was deſpaired of, and in which the mother of his future friend, the Duke of Montpenſier, watched him with an attention ſingularly happy, after his phyſicians and his parents had conſidered him as dead. In a few years after his recovery, he repaired to Orleans to ſtudy the civil law; from thence he was drawn to Valence in Dauphiny, by the reputation of Cujacius, who was then reading lectures there; on his road he embraced an opportunity of hearing Hotoman, the celebrated author of Franco-Gallia, who was reading lectures alſo at Bourges.—During his reſidence at Valence, he contracted a friendſhip with Joſeph Scaliger, which he cultivated through life.—In 1572, his father recalled him to Paris, juſt before the maſſacre of St. Bartholomew.—He mentions in his Memoirs [139] the horrors which he felt in ſeeing a very ſmall part of that bloody ſcene!—He reſided in the houſe of his uncle Nicholas De Thou, promoted to the biſhopric of Chartres: he was then deſigned himſelf for the church; and, beginning to collect his celebrated library, applied himſelf particularly to the Civil Law, and to Grecian literature.

He travelled into Italy in 1573, with Paul De Foix, going on an embaſſy to the Pope and the Italian Princes. Of De Foix, he gives the moſt engaging character, and ſpeaks with great pleaſure of the literary entertainment and advantages which he derived from this expedition.—He returned to Paris, and devoted himſelf again to his ſtudies, in the following year.—On the diſſentions in the Court of France, in 1576, he was employed to negotiate with the Mareſchal Montmorency, and engage him to interpoſe his good offices to prevent the civil war; which he for ſome time effected.—The ſame year he viſited the Low Countries, and on his return was appointed to a public office, on which he entered with that extreme diffidence which is ſo natural to a delicate mind.

In 1579 he travelled again, with his elder brother, who was ſent by his phyſicians to the baths of Plombieres in Lorrain: from hence he made a ſhort excurſion into Germany, and was received there with the jovial hoſpitality of that country, which he deſcribes in a very lively manner.—But affection ſoon recalled him to Plombieres, to attend his infirm brother to Paris, who died there in a few months after their return.

In 1580, on the plague's appearing in the capital, our Hiſtorian retired into Touraine, and after viſiting the principal places in Normandy, returned to Paris in the winter.—In the following year, he was of the number choſen from the Parliament of Paris to adminiſter juſtice in Guienne, as two eccleſiaſtics were included in that commiſſion.—In this expedition he embraced every opportunity of preparing the materials of his Hiſtory, ſeeking, as he ever did, the ſociety of all perſons eminent for their talents, o [...] [140] capable of giving him any uſeful information. He ſpeaks with great pleaſure of a viſit which be paid of this time to the celebrated Montaigne, whom he calls a man of a moſt liberal mind, and totally uninfected with the ſpirit of party.—After various excurſions, he was now returning to Paris, when he received the unexpected news of his father's death, an event which affected him moſt deeply, as filial affection was one of the ſtriking characteriſtics of his amiable mind.—He conſoled himſelf under the affliction of having been unable to pay his duty to his dying parent, by erecting a magnificent monument to his memory, expreſſive of the high veneration in which he ever held his virtues.—He engaged again in public buſineſs, devoting his intervals of leiſure to mathematical ſtudies, and to the compoſition of Latin verſe, which ſeems to have been his favourite amuſement. In 1584, he publiſhed his Poem, de re Accipitraria, which, though much celebrated by the critics of his age, has fallen, like the ſubject of which it treats, into univerſal neglect.—In 1585, he bid adieu to the Court, on finding himſelf treated with ſuch a degree of coldneſs, as his ingenuous nature could not ſubmit to; and being eager to advance in his great work, which he had already brought down to the reign of Francis II.— In 1587, having been often preſſed to marry by his family, and being abſolved from his eccleſiaſtical engagements for that purpoſe, he made choice of Marie Barbanſon, of an antient and noble family; but as her parents were ſuſpected of a ſecret inclination to the reformed religion, it was thought proper that the lady ſhould undergo a kind of expiation in a private conference with two Catholic Divines; a circumſtance of which the great Hiſtorian ſpeaks with an air of triumph in his Memoirs, as a proof of his own inviolable attachment to the faith of his fathers. In 1588, he loſt his affectionate mother; who is deſcribed, by her ſon, as meeting death with the ſame gentleneſs and tranquillity of mind, by which her life was diſtinguiſhed. When the violence of the league had reduced Henry the IIId to abandon Paris, our Hiſtorian was ſent [141] into Normandy to confirm the magiſtrates of that province in their adherence to the King.—He afterwards met Henry at Blois, and while he was receiving from him in private ſome commiſſions to execute at Paris, the King preſſed his hand, and ſeemed preparing to impart to him ſome important ſecret; but after a long pauſe diſmiſſed him without revealing it.—This ſecret was afterwards ſuppoſed to have been the projected aſſaſſination of the Duke of Guiſe: the ſuppoſition is probable, and it is alſo probable, that if Henry had then revealed his deſign, the manly virtue and eloquence of De Thou might have led him to relinquiſh that infamous and fatal meaſure.—He was, however, ſo far from ſuſpecting the intended crime of the King, that when he firſt heard at Paris, that Guiſe was aſſaſſinated, he believed it a falſe rumour, only ſpread by that faction, to introduce, what he ſuppoſed had really happened, the murder of the King.—In the commotions which the death of Guiſe produced in Paris, many inſults were offered to the family of De Thou: his wife was impriſoned for a day in the Baſtile; but obtaining her liberty, ſhe eſcaped from the city in a mean habit, attended by her huſband, diſguiſed alſo in the dreſs of a ſoldier. Having ſent his wife in ſafety into Picardy, he repaired to the King, who was almoſt deſerted, at Blois; and was greatly inſtrumental in perſuading his maſter to his coalition with Henry of Navarre.— The King determined to eſtabliſh a Parliament at Tours, and De Thou was conſidered as the moſt proper perſon to be the Preſident of this aſſembly; but with his uſual modeſty he declined this honour, and choſe rather to engage with his friend Mr. de Schomberg, in an expedition to Germany for the ſervice of the King.— He was at firſt deſigned for the embaſſy to Elizabeth, but at the requeſt of Schomberg declined the appointment, and accompanied his friend.

He firſt received intelligence of the King's death at Venice, where he had formed an intimacy with the celebrated Arnauld d'Oſſat, at that time Secretary to the Cardinal Joyeuſe.—In conſequence [142] of their converſation on this event, and the calamities of France, De Thou addreſſed a Latin Poem to his friend, which he afterwards printed at Tours.

In leaving Italy, he paſſed a few days at Padua, with his friend Vicenzio Pinelli; from whom he collected many particulars concerning the moſt eminent Italian and Spaniſh Authors, whom he determined to celebrate in his Hiſtory, in the hope, as he honeſtly confeſſes, that his liberal attention to foreign merit might entitle his own Works to the favour both of Italy and Spain; but he was diſappointed in this fair expectation, and laments the ingratitude which he experienced from both.

On his return to France, he was graciouſly received by Henry the IVth; and in giving that Prince an account of Italy, ſuggeſted to him the idea of a connexion with Mary of Medicis. After the battle of Ivry, he complimented the King in a ſhort Poem, which cloſes with the following lines:

Auſpiciis vulgo peraguntur praelia regum,
Perque duces illis gloria multa venit:
Tu vincis virtute tua, nec militis haec eſt;
Iſta tibi propria laurea parta manu.

As he was travelling, ſoon afterwards, with his wife and family, which he deſigned to ſettle at Tours, his party was intercepted by the enemy, and he was obliged to abandon his wife and her attendants, being prevailed on by their intreaties to ſecure his own eſcape by the ſwiftneſs of his horſe.—He repaired to the King at Giſors, and ſoon obtained the reſtitution of his family.—On the death of Amyot, Biſhop of Auxerre, well known by his various Tranſlations from the Greek language, the King appointed De Thou his Principal Librarian. In 1592, our Hiſtorian was very near failing a victim to the plague, but happily ſtruggled through that dangerous diſtemper by the aſſiſtance of two ſkilful phyſicians, who [143] attended him at Tours.—In 1593, he began the moſt important part of his Hiſtory; and under this year he introduces in his Memoirs a long and ſpirited Poem addreſſed to Poſterity, in which he enters into a juſtification of himſelf againſt the malignant attacks, which the manly and virtuous freedom of his writings had drawn upon him. It concludes with the following animated appeal to the ſpirit of his father:

Vos O majorum Cineres, teque optime longis
Soliciti genitor defuncte laboribus aevi,
Teſtor, pro patria nullas regnique ſalute
Vitaviſſe vices, veſtra virtute meaque
Indignum nil feciſſe, et ſi fata tuliſſent,
Prodeſſem ut patriae, patriae ſuccurrere, livor
Abſiſtat, pietate mea meruiſſe petenti.
Pura ad vos anima atque hodiernae neſcia culpae
Deſcendam, quandoque noviſſima venerit hora,
Noſtraque ſub tacitos ibit fama integra manes.

In 1594, he ſucceeded his uncle Auguſtin as Preſident a Mortier.—In 1596, he loſt his valuable and learned friend Pithou, who firſt ſolicited him to undertake his Hiſtory, and had greatly aſſiſted him in the proſecution of that laborious work.—How deeply the affectionate mind of De Thou was wounded by this event, appears from his long letter to Caſaubon on the occaſion.—In 1597, he began to be engaged in thoſe negotiations, which happily terminated in the famous edict of Nantes.—It may be proper to obſerve here, that De Thou was accuſed of being a Calviniſt, in conſequence of the part he acted in this buſineſs, as well as from the moderate tenor of his Hiſtory; and it is remarkable, that Sully ſeems in his Memoirs to countenance the accuſation.

In 1601, our Hiſtorian ſuffered a ſevere domeſtic affliction in the loſs of his wife.—He celebrated her virtues, and his own connubial [144] affection, in a Latin Poem: with this, and a Greek epitaph on the ſame lady, written by Caſaubon, he terminates the Commentary of his own Life, of which the preceding account is an imperfect abridgment.—His firſt wife leaving him no children, he married, in 1603, Gaſparde de la Chaſtre, an accompliſhed lady of a noble family; who having brought him three ſons and three daughters, died at the age of 39, 1616.—There is a fine letter of Daniel Heinſius, addreſſed to our author on this occaſion, exhorting him to fortitude: but this unexpected domeſtic calamity, and the miſeries which befel his country on the murder of Henry the Great, are ſaid to have wounded his feeling mind ſo deeply, as to occaſion his death, which happened in May 1617.—Under the regency of Mary of Medicis, he had been one of the Directors general of the finances, maintaining the ſame reputation for integrity in that department, which he had ever preſerved in his judicial capacity.

The firſt part of his Hiſtory appeared in 1604, with a Preface addreſſed to Henry IV, juſtly celebrated for its liberal and manly ſpirit.—But I muſt obſerve, that the following compliment to the King—Quicquid de ea ſtatueris juſſeriſve, pro divinae vocis oraculo mihi erit—was more than even that moſt amiable of Monarchs deſerved, as he ungratefully deſerted the cauſe of our Hiſtorian, in ſuffering his work to be proſcribed by the public cenſure of Rome in 1609, as De Thou plainly intimates, in the following paſſage from one of his letters, written 1611:—Publicata prima parte [Hiſtoriae meae] immane quam commoti ſunt plerique, ſive invidi, ſive factioſi, qui mox proceres quoſdam, qui per ſe in talibus rebus nihil vident, per calumnias artificioſe confictas, ut ſcis, in me concitaverunt, remque e veſtigio Romam detulerunt, et auctore maligne exagitato, facile pervicerunt, ut moroſi illi cenſores omnia mea ſiniſtre interpretarentur, et praejudicio perſonae opus integrum, cujus ne tertiam quidem partem legerant, praecipitato ordine damnarent. Rex cauſam meam initio quidem tuebatur, quamdiu [145] proceres in aula infeſtos habui. Sed paulatim ipſe eorundem aſtu infractus eſt; cognitoque Romae per emiſſarios labare regem, poſt Oſſati et Serafini Cardinalium mihi amiciſſimorum obitum, et illuſtriſſimi Perronii ex urbe diſceſſum, ictus poſtremo in me directus eſt, qui facile vitari potuit, ſi qui circa regem erant, tantae injuriae ſenſum ad ſe ac regni dignitatem pertinere vel minima ſignificatione prae ſe tuliſſent. Ita in aula omni ope deſtitutus, facile Romae oppreſſus ſum.—De Thou was preparing a new edition of his Hiſtory at the time, of his death.—His paſſion for Latin verſe appears never to have forſaken him, as the lateſt effuſion of his pen was a little poem deſcriptive of his laſt illneſs, and an epitaph in which he draws the following juſt character of himſelf:

Mihi veritatis cura vitae commodis
Antiquiorque charitatibus fuit,
Nullique facto, voce nulli injurius,
Injurias patienter aliorum tuli.
Tu quiſquis es, qualiſque, quantuſque, O bone,
Si cura veri eſt ulla, ſi pietas movet,
A me meiſque injuriam, quaeſo, abſtine.

The pious paternal prayer in the laſt line was very far from being crowned with ſucceſs. Francis, the eldeſt ſon of De Thou, fell a victim to the reſentment which Cardinal Richelieu is ſaid to have conceived againſt him, from a paſſage in the great Hiſtorian, reflecting on the Richelieu family.—He was beheaded at Lyons, 1642, for having been privy to a conſpiracy againſt the Cardinal. —Voltaire, with his uſual philanthropy and ſpirit, inveighs againſt the iniquity of this execution, in his Melanges, tom. iii.—The curious reader may find a particular account of this tragical event in the laſt volume of that noble edition of Thuanus, which was publiſhed under the auſpices of Dr. Mead, and does great honour to [146] our country.—I ſhall cloſe this Note by tranſcribing from it the following ſpirited epitaph on the unfortunate victim.

Hiſtoriam quiſquis vult ſcribere, ſcribere veram
Nunc vetat Exitium, magne Thuane, tuum.
Richeliae ſtirpis proavos laefiſſe, Paterni
Crimen erat calami, quo tibi vita perit.
Sanguine delentur nati monumenta parentis:
Quae nomen dederant ſcripta, dedere necem.
Tanti morte viri ſic eſt ſancita Tyrannis:
Vera loqui ſi vis, diſce cruenta pati.

Appendix A.2.16 NOTE XVI. VERSE 364.

Thy Wits, O France! (as ev'n thy Critics own)

Support not Hiſtory's majeſtic tone.] To avoid every appearance of national prejudice, I ſhall quote on this occaſion ſome paſſages from a very liberal French Critic, who has paſſed the ſame judgment on the Hiſtorians of his country. The Marquis d'Argenſon, in a memoir read before the French Academy, 1755, not only confeſſes that the French Writers have failed in Hiſtory, but even ventures to explain the cauſe of their ill ſucceſs.

Nous avons, ſays he, quelques morceaux, ou l'on trouve tout à la fois la fidelité, le gout, et le vrai ton de l'Hiſtoire; mais outre qu'ils ſont en petit nombre, et tres-courts, les auteurs, à qui nous en ſommes redevables, ſe ſont defié de leurs forces; ils ont craint de manquer d'haleine dans des ouvrages de plus longue étendue.

Pourquoi les anciens ont-ils eu des Thucydides, des Xenophons, des Polybes, & des Tacites? pourquoi ne pouvons nous leur comparer que des St. Réals, des Vertots, des Sarraſins? nous ne devons point attribuer cette diſette à la decadence de l'Eſprit humain. Il [147] faut en chercher, ſi j'oſe m'exprimer ainſi, quelque raiſon nationale, quelque cauſe, qui ſoit particuliere aux François . . . . .

Quarre qualités principales ſont néceſſaires aux Hiſtoriens.

1. Une critique exacte & ſavante, fondée ſur des recherches laborieuſes pour la collection des faits.

2. Une grande profendeur en morale & en politique.

3. Une imagination ſage, & fleurie, qui peigne les actions, qui deduiſe les cauſes, & qui preſente les reflexions avec clarté & ſimplicité; quelquefois avec feu, mais toujours avec gout & élégance.

4. Il faut de plus la conſtance dans le travail, un ſtyle égal & ſoutenu, & une exactitude infatigable, qui ne montre jamais l'impatience d'avancer, ni de laſſitude pendant le cours d'une longue carrière.

Qu'on ſepare ces qualités, on trouvera des chefs-d'oeuvres parmi nous, des Critiques, des Moraliſtes, des Politiques, des Peintres, & des literateurs laborieux, dont le produit nous ſurprend. Mais qu'on cherche ces qualités raſſemblées, on manquera d'exemples, à citer entre nos Auteurs.—The critic then takes a rapid review of the French Hiſtorians, and proceeds to make the following lively remarks on the difficulty of writing Hiſtory in France, and the volatile character of his countrymen—J'ai dejà prévenu l'une des plus grandes difficultés pour les auteurs; ils devroient etre en meme tems hommes de cabinet & hommes du monde. Par l'etude on ne connoit que les anciens, & les moeurs bourgeoiſes; & dans la bonne compagnie, on perd ſon tems, l'on ecrit peu, et l'on penſe encore moins. . . . . .

L'haleine manque à un écrivain François faute de conſtance; il entrepend légèrement de grands ouvrages, il les continue avec nonchalance, il les finit avec dégôut: s'il les abandonne quelque tems, il ne les reprend plus, & nous voyons que tous nos continuateurs ont échoué. La laſſitude du ſoir ſe reſſent de l'ardeur [148] du matin. C'eſt delà qu'il nous arrive de n'avoir de bon, que de petits morecaux, ſoit en poeſie, ſoit en proſe . . . . . nous n'avons que . . . . . des morceaux Hiſtoriques, & preſque pas une Hiſtoire générale digne de louange.

Choix des Memoires de l'Academie, &c. Londres, 1777, tom. iii. p. 627.

END OF THE NOTES TO THE SECOND EPISTLE.

Appendix A.3 NOTES TO THE THIRD EPISTLE.

[149]

Appendix A.3.1 NOTE I. VERSE 30.

AND ſhake th' affrighted world with dire portents.] There is ae curious treatiſe of Dr. Warburton's on this ſubject, which is become very ſcarce; it is entitled, ‘A critical and philoſophical Enquiry into the cauſes of prodigies and miracles, as related by Hiſtorians, with an Eſſay towards reſtoring a method and purity in Hiſtory.’ It contains, like moſt of the compoſitions of this dogmatical Writer, a ſtrange mixture of judicious criticiſm and entertaining abſurdity, in a ſtyle ſo extraordinary, that I think the following ſpecimens of it may amuſe a reader, who has not happened to meet with this ſingular book.—Having celebrated Rawleigh and Hyde, as writers of true hiſtoric genius, he adds: "almoſt all the reſt of our Hiſtories want Life, Soul, Shape, and Body: a mere hodgepodge of abortive embryos and rotten carcaſes, kept in an unnatural ferment (which the vulgar miſtake for real life) by the rank leven of prodigies and portents. Which can't but afford good [150] diverſion to the Critic, while he obſerves how naturally one of their own fables is here mythologiz'd and explain'd, of a church-yard carcaſe, raiſed and ſet a ſtrutting by the inflation of ſome helliſh ſuccubus within." He then paſſes a heavy cenſure on the antiquarian publications of Thomas Hearne; in the cloſe of which he exclaims—"Wonder not, reader, at the view of theſe extravagancies. The Hiſtoric Muſe, after much vain longing for a vigorous adorer, is now fallen under that indiſpoſition of her ſex, ſo well known by a depraved appetite for traſh and cinders."—Having quoted two paſſages from this ſingular Critic, in which his metaphorical language is exceedingly groſs, candour obliges me to tranſcribe another, which is no leſs remarkable for elegance and beauty of expreſſion. In deſcribing Salluſt, at one time the loud advocate of public ſpirit, and afterwards ſharing in he robberies of Caeſar, he expreſſes this variation of character by the following imagery;— "No ſooner did the warm aſpect of good fortune ſhine out again, but all thoſe exalted ideas of virtue and honour, raiſed like a beautiful kind of froſt-work, in the cold ſeaſon of adverſity, diſſolved and diſappeared.

Enquiry, &c. London, 1727, page 17.

Appendix A.3.2 NOTE II. VERSE 51.

On Francio now the Gallic page is mute,

And Britiſh Story drops the name of Brute.] The origin of the French nation was aſcribed by one of the Monkiſh Hiſtorians to Francio, a ſon of Priam: Mr. Warton, who mentions this circumſtance in his Diſſertation on the origin of romantic fiction in Europe, ſuppoſes that the revival of Virgil's Aeneid, about the ſixth or ſeventh century, inſpired many nations with this chimerical ides of tracing their deſcent from the family of Priam. There is a very remarkable proof in the Hiſtorian Matthew of Weſtminſter, how fond the Engliſh were of conſidering themſelves as the deſcendants [151] of the Trojan Brutus. In a letter from Edward the Firſt to Pope Boniface, concerning the affairs of Scotland, the King boaſts of his Trojan predeceſſor in the following terms:—Sub temporibus itaque Ely & Samuelis prophetarum, vir quidam ſtrenuus et inſignis, Brutus nomie, de genere Trojanorum, poſt excidium urbis Trojanae cum multis nobilibus Trojanorum applicuit in quandam Inſulam tunc Albion vocatam, a gigantibus inhabitatam, quibus ſua et ſuorum ſeductis potentia et occìſis, eam nomine ſuo Britanniam ſocioſque ſuos Britannos appellavit, & aedificavit civitatem quam Trinovantum nuncupavit, quae modo Londinum nuncupatur.

MATT. WESTMON. p. 439.

Appendix A.3.3 NOTE III. VERSE 73.

And Bacon's ſelf, for mental glory born,

Meets, as her ſlave, our pity, or our ſcorn.] I wiſh not to dwell invidiouſly on the failings of this immortal Genius; but it may be uſeful to remark, that no Hiſtorical work, though executed by a man of the higheſt mental abilities, can obtain a laſting reputation, if it be planned and written with a ſervility of ſpirit.—This was evidently the caſe in Bacon's Hiſtory of Henry the VIIth: it was the firſt work he engaged in after his diſgrace, and laid as a peace-offering at the feet of his maſter, the deſpicable James, who affected to conſider his great grandfather, the abject and avaricious Henry, as the model of a King. It was therefore the aim of the unfortunate Hiſtorian to flatter this phantaſy of the royal pedant, for whom he wrote, and he accordingly formed a coloſſal ſtatue to repreſent a pigmy.—It is matter of aſtoniſhment that Lord Bolingbroke, who in his political works has written on the vices of this very King, with a force and beauty ſo ſuperior to the Hiſtory in queſtion, ſhould ſpeak of it as a work poſſeſſing merit ſufficient to bear a compariſon with the antients: on the contrary, the extreme awkwardneſs [152] of the taſk, which the Hiſtorian impoſed upon himſelf, gave a weakneſs and embarraſſment to his ſtyle, which in his nobler works is clear, nervous, and manly. This will particularly appear from a few lines in his character of Henry.—"This King, to ſpeak of him in terms equal to his deſerving, was one of the beſt ſort of wonders, a wonder for wiſe men. He had parts, both in his virtues and his fortune, not ſo fit for a common-place as for obſervation.....His worth may bear a tale of two, that may put upon him ſomewhat, that may ſeem divine,"—He then relates a dream of Henry's mother, the Lady Margaret: but the quotations I have made may be ſufficient to juſtify my remark; and, as Dr. Johnſon ſays happily of Milton, "What Engliſhman can take delight in tranſcribing paſſages, which, if they leſſen the reputation of Bacon, diminiſh in ſome degree the honour of our country?"

Appendix A.3.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 92.

And of that mountain make the ſtatue of a King.] An alluſion to the Architect Dinocrates, who offered to cut Mount Athos into a ſtatue of Alexander the Great.

Appendix A.3.5 NOTE V. VERSE. 97.

As crown'd with Indian laurels, nobly won, &c.] This ſtory is told on a ſimilar occaſion by Lucian. Having aſſerted that hiſtorical flatterers often meet with the indignation they deſerve, he proceeds to this example: [...] [153] [...] LUCIAN. Edit. Riollay, p. 28.

The Critics are much divided on this paſſage: I have followed an interpretation very different from that adopted by a learned and judicious author, who has lately entered into a thorough diſcuſſion of all the anecdotes relating to this celebrated Conqueror, in a very elaborate and ſpirited diſſertation, entitled, "Examen critique des Hiſtoriens d'Alexandre," Paris, 4to, 1775. But there is great probability in his conjecture, that the name of Ariſtobulus has ſlipt into the ſtory by ſome miſtake; and that the ſycophant ſo juſtly reprimanded was Oneſicritus, who attended the hero of Macedon in quality of Hiſtoriographer, and is cenſured by the judicious Strabo as the moſt fabulous of all the Writers who have engaged in his Hiſtory. For the reaſons which ſupport this conjecture, ſee the book I have mentioned, page 19.

Appendix A.3.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 115.

In Dedications quietly inurn'd,

They take more lying Praiſe than Ammon ſpurn'd.] As Hiſtory is the compoſition moſt frequently addreſſed to Princes, modern Hiſtorians have been peculiarly tempted to this kind of adulation.— Indeed Dedications in general are but too commonly a diſgrace to letters. Perhaps a conciſe Hiſtory of this ſpecies of writing, and the fate of ſome remarkable Dedicators, might have a good influence towards correcting that proſtitution of talents, which is ſo often obſerved in productions of this nature; and ſuch a work might be very amuſing to the lovers of literary anecdote.—The two moſt unfortunate Dedications that occur to my remembrance, were written by Joſhua Barnes, and Dr. Pearce, late Biſhop of Rocheſter: The firſt dedicated his Hiſtory of Edward the IIId, to James the IId, and unluckily compared that Monarch to the moſt valiant of his [154] predeceſſors, juſt before his timidity led him to abdicate the throne: the ſecond dedicated his edition of Tully de Oratore to Lord Macclesfield, and as unluckily celebrated his patron as a model of public virtue, not many years before he was impeached in parliament, and fined £. 30,000 for the iniquity of his conduct in the office of Chancellor.

Appendix A.3.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 135.

Still can Herrera, mourning o'er his urn,

His dying pangs to bliſsful rapture turn.] Antonio de Herrera, a Spaniſh Hiſtorian of great reputation, deſcribes the death of Philip II. in the following terms:—"Y fue coſa de notar, que aviendo dos, o tres horas antes que eſpiraſſe, tenido un paraxiſmo tan violento, que le tuvieron por acabado, cubriendole el roſtro con un panno, abrio los ojos con gran eſpiritu, y tomò el crucifixo de mano de Don Hernando de Toledo, y con gran devocion, y ternura le besò muchas vozes, y a la imagen de nueſtra Sennora de Monſerrate, que eſtava en la candela. Pareciò al Arçobiſpo de Toledo, a los confeſſores, y a quantos ſe hallaron preſentes, que era impoſſible, que naturalmente huvieſſe podido bolver tan preſto, y con tan vivo eſpiritu, ſino que devio de tener en aquel punto alguna viſion y favor del cielo, y que mas fue rapto que paraxiſmo: luego bolviô al agonia, y ſe fue acabando poco a poco, y con pequenno movimiento ſe le arrancò el alma, domingo a treze de Setiembre a las cinco horas de la mannana, ſiendo ſus ultimas palabras, que moria como Catolico en la Fê y obediencia de la ſanta Igleſia Romana; y aſſi acabò eſte gran Monarca con la miſma prudencia con que vivio: por lo qual (meritamente) fe le dio el atributo de prudente.

Hiſt. General del Mundo, por Ant. Herrera, Madrid 1612. Tom. iii. f. 777.

After ſpeaking ſo freely on the vices of this Monarch, it is but juſt to obſerve, that Philip, who poſſeſſed all the ſedate cruelty [155] of the cold-blooded Octavius, reſembled him alſo in one amiable quality, and was ſo much a friend to letters, that his reign may be conſidered as the Auguſtan age of Spaniſh literature.—His moſt bloody miniſter, the mercileſs Alva, was the Maecenas of that wonderful and voluminous Poet, Lope de Vega. I cannot help regretting that the two eminent Writers, who have lately delineated the reigns of Charles the Vth, and his Son Philip, ſo happily in our language, have entered ſo little into the literary Hiſtory of thoſe times.

Appendix A.3.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 158.

Nor hope to ſtain, on baſe Detraction's ſcroll,

A Tully's morals, or a Sidney's ſoul!] Dion Caſſius, the ſordid advocate of deſpotiſm, endeavoured to depreciate the character of Cicero, by inſerting in his Hiſtory the moſt indecent Oration that ever diſgraced the page of an Hiſtorian.—In the opening of his 46th book, he introduces Q. Fuſius Calenus haranguing the Roman ſenate againſt the great ornament of that aſſembly, calling Cicero a magician, and accuſing him of proſtituting his wife, and committing inceſt with his daughter. Some late hiſtorical attempts to ſink the reputation of the great Algernon Sidney, are ſo recent, that they will occur to the remembrance of almoſt every Reader.

Appendix A.3.9 NOTE IX. VERSE 179.

Nor leſs the blemiſh, tho' of different kind,

From falſe Philoſophy's conceits refin'd! &c.] The ideas in this paſſage are chiefly borrowed from the excellent obſervations on Hiſtory in Dr. Gregory's Comparative View. As that engaging little volume is ſo generally known, I ſhall not lengthen theſe Notes by tranſcribing any part of it; but I thought it juſt to acknowledge my [156] obligations to an Author, whoſe ſentiments I am proud to adopt, as he united the nobleſt affections of the heart to great elegance of mind, and is juſtly ranked among the moſt amiable of moral writers.

Appendix A.3.10 NOTE X. VERSE 218.

To ſpeak no Falſehood; and no Truth ſuppreſs.] Quis neſcit, primam eſſe Hiſtoriae legem ne quid falſi dicere audeat? deinde, ne quid veri non audeat. De Oratore, Lib. ii.

Voltaire has made a few juſt remarks on the ſecond part of this famous Hiſtorical maxim; and it certainly is to be underſtood with ſome degree of limitation. The ſentence of the amiable Pliny, ſo often quoted—Hiſtoria quoquo modo ſcripta delectat—is liable, I apprehend, to ſtill more objections.

Appendix A.3.11 NOTE XI. VERSE 266.

A waſte of Genius in the toil of Knolles.] Richard Knolles, a native of Northamptonſhire, educated at Oxford, publiſhed, in 1610, a Hiſtory of the Turks. An Author of our age, to whom both criticiſm and morality have very high obligations, has beſtowed a liberal encomium on this neglected Hiſtorian; whoſe character he cloſes with the following juſt obſervation:

"Nothing could have ſunk this Author in obſcurity, but the remoteneſs and barbarity of the people whoſe ſtory he relates. It ſeldom happens, that all circumſtances concur to happineſs or fame. The nation which produced this great Hiſtorian, has the grief of ſeeing his genius employed upon a foreign and unintereſting ſubject; and that Writer, who might have ſecured perpetuity to his name, by a Hiſtory of his own country, has expoſed himſelf to the [157] danger of oblivion, by recounting enterprizes and revolutions, of which none deſire to be informed."

RAMBLER, Vol. III. No 122:

Appendix A.3.12 NOTE XII. VERSE 330.

And read your juſt reward in Brady's fate!] Robert Brady, born in Norfolk, was Profeſſor of Phyſic in the Univerſity of Cambridge, which he repreſented in Parliament.—He was Maſter of Caius College, and Phyſician in ordinary to James II. He publiſhed, in 1684, a Hiſtory of England, from the invaſion of Julius Caeſar to the death of Richard the Second, in three volumes folio: and died in 1700.—His character cannot be more juſtly or more forcibly expreſſed, than in the words of a living Author, who has lately vindicated the antient conſtitution of our country with great depth of learning, and with all the energy of genius inſpirited by freedom.

"Of Dr. Brady it ought to be remembered, that he was the ſlave of a faction, and that he meanly proſtituted an excellent underſtanding, and admirable quickneſs, to vindicate tyranny, and to deſtroy the rights of his nation."

STUART's View of Society in Europe. Notes, page 327.

Appendix A.3.13 NOTE XIII. VERSE 381.

Like the dumb Son of Croeſus, in the ſtrife.] Herodotus relates, that a Perſian ſoldier, in the ſtorming of Sardis, was preparing to kill Croeſus, whoſe perſon he did not know, and who, giving up all as loſt, neglected to defend his own life; a ſon of the unfortunate Monarch, who had been dumb from his infancy, and who never [158] ſpake afterwards, found utterance in that trying moment, and preſerved his father, by exclaiming "O kill not Croeſus."

Appendix A.3.14 NOTE XIV. VERSE 387.

Leſs eager to correct, than to revile.] This is perhaps a juſt deſcription of The polemical Divine, as a general character: but there are ſome authors of that claſs, to whom it can never be applied. —Dr. Watſon, in particular, will be ever mentioned with honour, as one of the happy few, who have preſerved the purity of juſtice and good manners in a zealous defence of religion; who have given elegance and ſpirit to controverſial writing, by that liberal elevation of mind, which is equally removed from the meanneſs of flattery and the inſolence of detraction.

Appendix A.3.15 NOTE XV. Verse 393.

The noble inſtinct, Love of laſting Fame.] There is a moſt animated and judicious defence of this paſſion in Fitzoſborne's Letters.—But I muſt content myſelf with barely referring my Reader to that amiable Moraliſt, as I fear I have already extended theſe Notes to ſuch a length, as will expoſe me to the ſeverity of criticiſm. Indeed I tremble in reviewing the ſize of this Comment: which I cannot cloſe without entreating my Reader to believe, that its bulk has ariſen from no vain ideas of the value of my own Poem, but from a deſire to throw collected light on a ſubject, which appeared to me of importance, and to do all the juſtice in my power to many valuable writers, whom I wiſhed to celebrate.—Thoſe who are inclined to cenſure, will perhaps think this apology inſufficient; and I foreſee [159] that ſome haſty Critics will compare the length of the Poem with that of the Annotations, and then laying down the book without peruſing either, they will apply perhaps (not unhappily) to the Author the following lively couplet of Dr. Young:

Sure, next to writing, the moſt idle thing
Is gravely to harangue on what we ſing.
FINIS.

Appendix B ERRATA.

Page 9. end of Ver. 110, the Semicolon ſhould be a Comma.

58. 1ſt Line of the Argument, ſhould read thus, Vanity, national and private

87. l. 15. after Thucydides—the Full Stop ſhould be a Comma.

111. l. 7. from the bottom, for adgandere, read adgaudere.

116. l. 3. from the bottom, for 13, 14. read XIII. XIV.

117. l. 1. after heraldry, add it was indeed the favourite ſtudy.

Notes
*
Ver. 4. See NOTE I.
Ver. 55. See NOTE II.
Ver. 63. See NOTE III.
§
Ver. 68. See NOTE IV.
*
Ver. 77 See NOTE V.
*
Ver. 115. See NOTE VI.
*
Ver. 131. See NOTE VII.
*
Ver. 190. See NOTE VIII.
*
Ver. 203. See NOTE IX.
Ver. 206. See NOTE X.
Ver. 209. See NOTE XI.
12
Ver. 225. See Note XII.
*
Ver. 251. See NOTE XIII.
*
Ver. 273. See NOTE XIV.
*
Ver. 279. See NOTE XV.
*
Ver. 297. See NOTE XVI.
Ver. 312. See NOTE XVII.
*
Ver. 325. See NOTE XVIII.
*
Ver. 333. See NOTE XIX.
*
Ver. 356. See NOTE XX.
*
Ver. 379. See NOTE XXI.
*
Ver. 399. See NOTE XXII.
*
Ver. 17. See NOTE I.
Ver. 19. See NOTE II.
Ver. 24. See NOTE III.
*
Ver. 59. See NOTE IV.
Ver. 65. See NOTE V.
*
Ver. 79. See NOTE VI.
Ver. 84. See NOTE VII.
*
Ver. 136. See NOTE VIII.
*
Ver. 185. See NOTE IX.
*
Ver. 195. See NOTE X.
*
Ver. 204. See NOTE XI.
*
Ver. 226. See NOTE XII.
*
Ver. 254. See NOTE XIII.
*
Ver. 261. See NOTE XIV.
*
Ver. 291. See NOTE XV.
*
Ver. 364. See NOTE XVI.
*
Ver. 30. See NOTE I.
*
Ver. 51. See NOTE II.
*
Ver. 73. See NOTE III.
*
Ver. 92. See NOTE IV.
Ver. 97. See NOTE V.
*
Ver. 115. See NOTE VI.
*
Ver. 135. See NOTE VII.
*
Ver. 158. See NOTE VIII.
*
Ver. 179. See NOTE IX.
*
Ver. 218. See NOTE X.
*
Ver. 266. See NOTE XI.
*
Ver. 330. See NOTE XII.
*
Ver. 381. See NOTE XIII.
Ver. 387. See NOTE XIV.
*
Ver. 393. See NOTE XV.
*
Diodor. Siculi Lib. i. [...], &c.
*
A foreſt and a river near Chimay.
*
A foreſt and a river near Chimay.
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