I thought, fancy that we had either tumbled over the rocks or fallen into the hands of the Chouans. I rose, but, on offering to pay my parting compliments, I was overpowered by many voices, all joining in the friendly entreaty that we would stay and dine, and proceed to Nantes in the cool of the evening. I read in the countenances of my companions a wish for my compliance, and too happy in the conversation of a party at once so accomplished and unaffected, I willingly yielded to the entreaty which afforded me a little more time to profit by it. Accordingly it was settled that the gentlemen should stroll through the woods whilst I remained with Madame des J. and her lovely daughter.

S

THE WEEK.

From Wednesday the 26th November to Tuesday December 2nd.

The bill of fare for dinner was discussed in my presence, and settled, sans façon, with that delightful frankness and gaiety which, in the French character, gives a charm to the most trifling occurrence. demoiselle Louise then begged me to excuse her for half an hour, as she was going to make some creams and some pastilles. I requested I might accompany her, and also render myself useful. We accordingly went together into the dairy, and I made tarts à l'Angloise, when she made confections and bon bons and all manner of pretty things, with as much ease as if she had never done anything else, and as much grace as she displayed in the saloon. I could not help thinking as I looked at her with her servants about her, all cheerful, respectful, and anxious to attend upon her, how much better it would be for the young ladies in England if they would occasionally return to the habits of their grandmammas, and mingle the animated and endearing occupations of domestic life, and the modest manners and social amusements of home, with the perpetual practising on harps and pianos, and the incessant efforts at display and search after gaiety, which in the present day render them anything but what an amiable man of a reflecting mind and delicate sentiments would desire in the woman he might wish to select as his companion for life.

But it was not only in the more trifling affairs of the menage that this young lady acquitted herself so agreeably; in the household, the garden, the farm, among the labourers, their wives, and children, with the poor in the neighbourhood and the casual wanderer, everywhere she was superintending, directing, kind, amiable, the comfort of all around, and the delight of her family; her cheerfulness was in proportion to

that sweet peace which goodness bosoms ever: she flew up and down the rocks with the lightness of a mountain roe, she sprang into a boat like the Lady of the Lake, and could manage an oar with as much grace and skill. With all this her mind was thoroughly cultivated. She had an elegant taste in the authors of her own language, understood Latin, Italian, and English, and charmed me with her conversation, whilst she employed her fingers in the fancy work with which French ladies occupy the moments some call idle, but which with them are always sociably and generally usefully employed. After a day

spent in all the agreeableness of country-life, under its most engaging aspects, evening came, and, with mutual adieus, we parted; but scarcely had we proceeded half a league upon our way, when we saw a little boat in full speed after us, and as it had the advantage of a sail, it soon gained upon ours enough to allow us to perceive that it was the Baroness and her son and daughter. We rested on our oars until they came up to us; they then told us that, after parting with us, they considered that it would be so late before we could reach Nantes, that they resolved to bring us back again :-it was impossible to resist so friendly an invitation; we accordingly put about and all returned together, our oars keeping time to the song of our party; and flutes and guitars making up the remainder of our evening concert. In this hospitable manner we were kept four days voluntary prisoners, for it was indeed the talent of this amiable family

With willing words to conquer willing hearts.

Librarians and Lord Treasurers.-Bautru being sent to Spain on political business and, attending the Court of the Escurial, took the opportunity to visit the library, promising himself great satisfaction in an acquaintance with the librarian; but a little discourse let him see that the man scarce knew what books were under his care, much less the contents and best editions, or the character of their authors. Discoursing afterwards with the King about the decorations of that magnificent palace, his Majesty happened to say, "Foreigners of learning have expressed great approbation of my library here." "Nor can it be too much admired," answered Bautru; "but your Majesty's librarian is quite misplaced there: he'd make an excellent Lord Treasurer!" "A Lord Treasurer!" replied the King; "how so?" "Why, he never fingers what is committed to his

care."

way.

We are now placed in the midst of such wintry scenes as this. Nature is stripped of all her summer drapery. Her verdure, her foliage, her flowers have all vanished. The sky is filled with clouds and gloom, or sparkles only with a frosty radiance. The earth is spongy with wet, rigid with frost, or buried in snow. The winds that in summer breathed gently over nodding blooms, and pleasant murmur, and wafting perfumes all over undulating grass, swaying the leafy boughs with a the world, now hiss like serpents, or howl like wild beasts of the desert; cold, piercing, and cruel. Everything has drawn as near as possible to the

centre of warmth and comfort. The farmer has driven his flocks and cattle into sheltered home-in. closures, where they may receive from his provident care that food which the earth now denies them; or piles their cratches plentifully with fodder. in the farm-yard itself, where some honest Giles The labourer has fled from the field to the barn, and the measured strokes of his flail are heard daily from morn to eve. It amazes us, as we walk abroad, to conceive where can have concealed themselves the infinite variety of creatures that sported through the air, earth, and waters of summer.

Birds, insects, reptiles, whither are they all gone? The birds that filled the air with their music, the rich blackbird, the loud and cheerful thrush, the linnet, lark, and goldfinch, whither have they crept? The squirrel that played his antics on the forest tree; and all the showy varied tribes of butterflies, moths, dragonflies, beetles, wasps, and warrior hornets, bees and cock-chafers, whither have they fled? Some, no doubt, have lived out their little term of being, and their little bodies, lately so splendid, active and alive to a thousand instincts, feelings, and propensities, are become part and parcel of the dull and wintry soil; but the greater portion have shrunk into the hollows of trees and rocks, and into the bosom of their mother earth itself, where, with millions of seeds and roots, and buds, they live in the great treasury of Nature, ready, at the call of a more auspicious season, to people the world once more with beauty and delight.

As in the inferior world of creatures, so it is with man. The wealthy have vacated their countryhouses, and congregated in the great Babylon of pleasure and dissipation; families are collected round the social hearth, where Christmas brings his annual store of frolic and festivities; and the author, like the bee, withdrawn to his hive, revels amid the sweets of his summer gathering.

ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.

NO. XLVI.-ADVENTURES OF RIPERDA.

THIS account of Riperda, may, to some, look too much
like a page out of history; yet surely a Dutchman who
becomes a Spanish Catholic minister, and dies a
bashaw, may be considered a curiosity, in the more
fantastic sense of the word. Riperda was truly what
is called an adventurer; that is to say, a man formed
only to go on from one adventure to another, with-
out obtaining any settled and noble success.
He was
of a class of men, whose brains, very clever in all the
rest, appear to want a portion common to the rest of
mankind, and necessary to keep them in equilibrium.
A bit of it seems broken off, or omitted; and so the
poor creature keeps turning about from project to
project, and creed to creed, like the convert described
by Butler:-

A convert's but a fly, that turns about,
After his head's pulled off, to find it out.

Riperda was a native of Groningen, towards the close of the seventeenth century, for the materials of whose singular life and adventures we are indebted to the late Dr Campbell, and for many new facts to the ingenious rector of Bemerton (Archdeacon Coxe.)

The last writer, admitted to sources of information which few private men can have any access to, has, in his Apology for Sir Robert Walpole, performed the task committed to his care in a dexterous and pleasing manner.

It must be confessed, that when the transactions of ministers and statesmen are to be delineated and laid

before the public, a writer is placed in a situation peculiar and delicate; more particularly when those individuals to whom he is indebted for important papers, are immediate descendants from the illustrious persons whose history he writes.

To investigate characters, and decide on measures when party zeal, inflamed resentments, and family prejudice, have not had time to cool, has been aptly compared by Horace, to treading on ashes, beneath which unextinguished fire is concealed. In such cases, an author has a difficult part to act; to avoid the bias of gratitude and private interest; to speak not only truth, but the whole truth; to avoid exciting the malignity of powerful enemies, but at the same time to preserve unblemished his integrity and literary reputation with the public.

Riperda, the subject of my present page, inheriting from nature, activity, and acuteness, and uniting to a warm imagination a more than moderate confidence in his own abilities, applied with indefatigable industry to literature and science.

After a well-planned and well-executed education, under the superintendence of his father, who was descended from a good family, in the province where he resided, the young man passed the earlier part of his life in the army, in which he deserved and obtained promotion.

of the world and agreeable manners to his more His military progress added a general knowledge solid acquirements; but he suffered no pursuit, either of business or of pleasure, to interrupt the cultivation of his mind. His morning hours were sacred; and while his associates in winter quarters were lost in the stupifying indolence of superfluous sleep, or in recovering from a nocturnal debauch, the more diligent Dutchman was trimming his early lamp.

He exerted himself more peculiarly in procuring information on every subject directly or remotely connected with manufactures and trade; he made himself acquainted with the population and the wants of the different powers in Europe; with the natural produce and raw materials each country yielded, and the various commodities they were under the necessity of providing from their neighbours.

Having formed himself precisely for managing the concerns of a mercantile country, soon after the peace of Utretcht, he was appointed envoy from the United Provinces to the court of Madrid, for the purpose of negociating a commercial treaty with the King of Spain.

This complicated business he conducted with so much address, and turned his book knowledge, which men of business are so apt to think so lightly of, to so much account, that he attracted the favour of Cardinal Alberoni, who, from being a curate in the Duchy of Parma, had, by fortunate and wellimproved incident, gained the patronage of the Princess Ursini, and was, at the moment, prime minister of Spain.

At Madrid, he found Mr Doddington, who was sent on a similar business, by his master, the King of England.

The English envoy, better skilled in borough. arrangements than the intricacies of foreign politics, derived so much benefit from the correct official statements and the authentic documents of Riperda, that he received many warm acknowledgments from Lord Townshend, at that time a cabinet minister at the court of London.

These flattering circumstances first occasioned the subject of our present article to meditate establishing himself in Spain; he was induced to this project by remembering that it required no very consummate abilities to pass for a deep politician at Madrid, where many foreigners had been advanced to high honours and confidential trusts, who had no other recommendation than a good voice, a dexterous finger, a pleasing countenance, or a handsome leg. Finding the Protestant religion a considerable impediment to his advancement, he publicly abjured the faith in which he had been educated, and was eagerly admitted into the Catholic church.

This change of opinion, or of profession, so favourable to his political career, does not appear to have improved his morals; for, in a pecuniary transaction, Riperda was accused of imposing on Mr Doddington. This ill-timed incident lost him Alberoni's favour, and he was soon after dismissed from the lucrative post of superintendent of a royal manufactory, to which he had been appointed.

The Dutchman always repelled this degrading accusation with spirit, insisting that the money received, ten thousand pistoles, was no more than a moderate reward for the important diplomatic benefits he had conferred, by advice and communication, on the infant statesman, that being the appellation he bestowed, -alluding, I apprehend, rather to his want

of experience than of years. He asserted that part

of the cash had been actually expended in obtaining secret intelligence for the Englishman. Who shall decide when statesmen disagree? Sometimes, in these collusions, a spark of truth, useful to honest

men, is struck out.

Riperda observed that, on this occasion, he had acted towards the unfledged envoy as a prudent physician would treat an illiberal and parsimonious patient, who insidiously picked out his opinions and advice during accidental conversations, without offering a fee: he had paid himself.

It is not easy now to decide on the positive criminality or relative equity of this transaction; it must, however, be confessed that internal evidence, deduced from the subsequent conduct of Riperda, and the left-handed, characteristic cunning of his countrymen, who generally over-reach themselves, tell rather against him.

But this obliquity of conduct does not appear to have retarded his political progress: he joined the enemies of Alberoni, and, in the place from which he had been dismissed, having been kindly noticed by the royal family, was frequently consulted by the principal secretary, Grimaldo; and, what in Spain is an object of the greatest importance, Riperda became a favourite with the King's confessor.

In this advantageous position, he intrigued and caballed against the cardinal; contributed powerfully towards his dismission; and, dazzled by the bright prospect which opened before him, confiding in superior abilities, or his personal influence with the King, he was ambitious of succeeding the exminister.

But, when his appointment was proposed in council, strong representations were made against the placing at the head of his Majesty's government an alien and a new convert from heresy, whose integrity was already suspected.

A further discussion was delayed by Phillip's abdicating the Spanish throne; but when the royal seceder resumed his crown, Riperda was still his confidential favourite, and ingratiated himself more particularly with the Queen, by promoting a marriage between Don Carlos and an Archduchess of the House of Austria.

On this occasion, he was sent ambassador to the Emperor of Germany, and during his mission to Vienna, acquired considerable popularity, as well by the unqualified warmth of his declarations in favour of German connections, as by the hospitality of his table, the splendour of his retinue, and the punetuality of his payments.

A new system of politics, different views, and probably the pecuniary embarras with Mr Doddington, gradually estranged him from his former attachment to England, and he poured forth a foul stream of virulent invective against this country for hesitating to fulfil her engegements, one of which he positively insisted was an immediate and unqualified cessation of the important fortress of Gibraltar.

In reply, it was acknowledged that the subject had been pressed by the Spanish minister, and a promise made to take it into consideration; but when the outrageous statesman was informed that, in Great Britain, the will of a sovereign, or the wishes of his minister, are impotent and ineffectual without parliamentary concurrence, he burst into passionate, vehement, and unbecoming expressions; threatened that he would land twenty thousand men in Scotland, send home the Elector of Hanover, and place the lawful sovereign, a legitimate descendant of King James II, on the English throne.

Having concluded with the Emperor a treaty, by which the King and Queen of Spain were highly gratified, he hastened to Madrid, where he was received with rapturous acknowledgments, but he treated his friend Grimaldo with ungrateful coldness,

and the day after his arrival was appointed to succeed him as principal secretary of state; he transacted business at the council board and with foreign ambassadors, thus enjoying the uncontrolled authority of Alberoni, without the name of prime minister.

But it was soon found, with all his predominating address and eminent talents, that he was unfit for the high office he filled; that he was vain, turbulent, and insolent; without regularity, prudence, moderation, or consistency of conduct; in a word, that he possessed great powers and attainments, but wanted prudence and common sense.

The King, by more frequent intercourse, soon saw the deficiency of Riperda in these indispensable requisites, and in a short time he ceased to be a favourite.

It is not improbable that the minister became giddy from the height to which he was elevated; being hated by the officers of state who were obliged to attend him, and detested by the people, his situation was awkward and perilous: yet at a crowded levee he had the folly or the assurance to exclaim, "I know that the whole kingdom is irritated against me, but their malice I defy; safe under the protection of God, the blessed virgin, and the goodness of my intentions."

The general aversion every day increasing, and Riperda's imprudence keeping pace with his unpopularity, it was found necessary to remove him. His

being called a resignation, and his temper smoothed dismission, according to the usual court etiquette, by a liberal pension.

But this pacific treatment had no effect in quieting the exasperated Dutchman; his angry passions raged with unabated fury, and he vowed eternal vengeance against a county so blind to his merits.

Being possessed of secrets which the English ministry were anxious to become acquainted with, he opened a clandestine intercourse with the English ambassador, Stanhope; his former friend, Doddington, having been recalled.

The curses of the people, artfully fomented by his enemies, were by this time not only deep, but loud; he was fearful of an attack on his person, and he fled to that gentleman's house.

His intrigues with England, and other hostile designs being now discovered, he was dragged from his retreat, taken into custody, and imprisoned in the castle of Segovia.

Taking advantage of the infirmity or neglect of his keepers, and assisted by a female domestic, who first pitying had then loved him, he bribed a nocturnal sentinel, and by means of a rope ladder effected his escape.

With these companions, and after a long, anxious, and fatiguing journey, he reached Oporto, and embarked without delay for England, where he was received with respect and attention by the King's

ministers.

But when Sir Robert Walpole had gained from the fugitive every necessary information, he was gradually neglected, and, as is the case with all betrayers of their trust, at last despised, even by those who had derived advantrge from his treachery.

A man like Riperda, who had directed national councils and had been listened to by kings, who abounded in pride, and swelled with indignation, could not but feel this degraded situation most acutely. After two years passed in the English metropolis, in unavailing impatience, passion and regret, but with undiminished hatred against everything Spanish, he withdrew to Holland.

In that republic he found an agent from Barbary, who being acquainted with his story, conceived that his thirst for vengeance might be productive of important advantages to the sovereign by whom he was employed.

This person was an envoy from that barbarian whom we condescend to call the Emperor of Morocco. He assured Riperda that all his efforts in Europe would be ineffectual, in consequence of the imporant changes which had recently taken place in continental politics; but that on the borders of his master's territories in Africa, he might annoy his enemies and gratify his revenge most effectually; that he would there possess the advantage of a geographical position, in which, to defeat the Spaniards would be to exterminate them, and that he would receive ample rewards from a grateful ally stimulated by the hereditary impulse of eternal hatred and national antipathy.

Riperda heard and was convinced: revenge, the most infernal, but the most seducing of all our crimes, quickening all his measures and smoothing every difficulty, with the two companions of his flight he sailed for Africa, and after a prosperous voyage, announced his arrival and the object of his views to Muly Abdallah, who eagerly accepted his

services.

The Dutchman, who, like his countrymen, for a productive cargo would have trod on the cross at Japan, embraced the Mahometan faith, adopted the dress, conformed to the manners, and gained the esteem of that African chief.

In less than two months he was advanced to the post of prime minister, and shortly after appointed commander-in-chief of his forces, with unusual discretionary power.

The new general, animated by the spur of the occasion, lost no time in improving the army placed under his guidance, by every means in his power.

He represented to Abdallah the insufficiency of the desultory and irregular modes of attack generally practised by the Moors, by which, although at their first onset they sometimes break down all before them, are, if they fail, generally productive of irrecoverable confusion, slaughter, and defeat.

With the Emperor's permission, Riperda, for so I continue to call him, although the renegado had assumed another name, with the Emperor's permission, he rigidly enforced the severe maxims of European tactics, silent and prompt obedience, irresistible energy, patient and cool dexterity, which, at the mouth of a cannon, the mounting a breach, or the springing of a mine, convert an otherwise unmanage able mob into a compact magic machine, various in form, but of tremendous power: a widely spread line, a hollow square, a wedge, a column, or a platoon.

Thus improved and thus directed, the barbarians attacked the Spaniards, and irrecoverably defeated them: their leader was created a bashaw, and died at Tetuan, in extreme old age, some time in the year

1737.

talents improved by assiduous cultivation, placed on Such was Riperda; with a strong mind, and elevated ground, and possessing a considerable share of book learning, and no small portion of general and local information, he missed the high road to happiness all his parts and all his acquirements did not guard him against obliquity and crooked policy, which in this, as in most instances, generally defeat their own purpose. He has added to the many instances which pointedly prove, after all the contrivances of cunning, and the deep stratagems of finesse, that honesty is the best policy; that her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

LIFE & CHARACTER OF MÆCENAS.

WE gave the other day an interesting account of a splendid and luxurious Roman orator, from Mr Dunlop's History of Roman Literature.' We follow it up from the same work, with a portrait of an effeminate statesman, who wielded the empire with rings on his little finger.

A Mæcenas, all over Christendom, means a patron of genius. It is curious, even to scholars, to contemplate a summary of the life and character of the singular personage whose name has become thus generously immortal. He deserves his immortality; and yet he was a dandy of the most luxurious description amidst the iron and marble of old Rome, -the most effeminate of the effeminate, as Ney was "bravest of the brave." The probable secret of this weakness in a great man (for great he was both as a statesman and a discerner of greatness in others) was to be found in excessive weakness of constitution.

At the commencement of the reign of Augustus, the old Cæsarians, Balbus, Matius, and Appius, men who were highly accomplished and had been the chief personal friends of the great Julius, still survived, and led the way in every species of learning and elegance. Their correspondence with Cicero, in his Familiar Epistles, exhibits much refinement in the individuals, and in general a highly polished state of society. They had a taste for gardening, planting and architecture, and all those various

arts which contribute to the embellishment of life. They rewarded the verses of poets, listened to their productions and courted their society. When Augustus landed in Italy from Apollonia, Balbus was the first person who came to offer his services, and Matius took charge of the shows which he exhibited on his arrival at Rome. These ancient friends of the Julian line continued, during the early part of his reign, to frequent the court of Augustus; and, though not first in favour with the new sovereign, they felt no jealousy of their successor, but lived on the most cordial and intimate terms with Mæcenas, who now held, near the person of the adopted son, the enviable place which they had occupied with the father.

To this favourite minister of Augustus the honour is due of having successfully followed out the views of his master for promoting the interests of literature. Some writers have alleged that, after the battle of Actium, a deliberate design was formed by Mæcenas to soften the heart of Augustus, and that, among the arts which he employed for this purpose, one of the chief was, the encouragement of learned

men and poets, who would imperceptibly give him lessons of moderation, and incline his heart to justice and clemency. But this is refining too much; and it seems more probable, that in his patronage of literature, Mæcenas merely acted from the orders, or followed the example, of his master.

Caius Cilnius Mæcenas was descended, it is said, from Elbius Volterrenus, the last king, or rather Lucumon of the Etrurians, who perished in the 445th year of the city, at the battle near the lake Vadimone, which finally brought his country under total subjection to the Romans. His immediate ancestors were Roman knights, who having been at length incorporated into the state, held high commands in the army, and Mæcenas would never consent to leave their class to be enrolled among the senators; but he was proud, (as may be conjectured from its frequent mention by the poets), of his supposed descent from the old Etrurian princes. It is not known in what year he was born, or in what manner he spent his youth; but Meibomius conjectures that he was educated at Apollonia along with Augustus and Agrippa; and that this formed the commencement of their memorable friendship. He is not mentioned in the history of his country,, till we hear of his accompanying Augustus to Rome, after the battle of Modena. He was also with him at Philippi; and attended him during the whole course of the naval wars against Sextus Pompey, except when he was sent at intervals by his master to Rome, in order by his presence to quell those disturbances, which, during this period, frequently broke out in the capital. In the battle of Actium he commanded the light Liburnian galleys, which greatly contributed to gain the victory, for Augustus, and he gave chase with them to Anthony, when he fled after the galley of Cleopatra. During the absence of his master in Egypt, Mæcenas, in virtue of his office of Prefect, was entrusted with the chief administration of affairs in Italy, and particularly with the civil government of the capital. After Augustus had returned from Egypt without a rival, and the affairs of the empire proceeded in a regular course, Mæcenas shared with Agrippa the favour and confidence of his sovereign. While Agrippa was entrusted with affairs requiring activity, gravity, and force, those which were to be accomplished by persuasion and address were to be committed to Mæcenas. The advice which he gave to Augustus in the celebrated consultation with regard to his proposed resignation of the empire was preferred to that of Agrippa; Mæcenas having justly represented that it would not be to the advantage of Rome to be left without a head to the government, as the vast empire now required a single chief to maintain peace and order; that Augustus had already advanced too far to recede with safety; and that, if divested of absolute power, he would speedily fall a victim to the resentment of the friends or relatives of those whom he had formerly sacrificed to his own security.

Having agreed to retain the government, Augustus asked and obtained from Maecenas a general plan for its administration. His minister laid down for him rules regarding the reformation of the Senate, the nomination of magistrates, the collection of taxes, the establishment of schools, the government of provinces, the levy of troops, the equalization of weights and measures, the suppression of tumultuous assemblies, and support of religious observances. His measures on all these points, as detailed by Dion Cassius, show consummate political wisdom and knowledge in the science of government.

Mæcenas had often mediated between Anthony and Augustus, and healed the mutual wounds which their ambition inflicted. But when his master had at length triumphed in the contest, the great object of his attention was to secure the permanence of the government. For this purpose, he had spies in all corners to pry into every assembly, and to watch the motions of Lepidus and Muræna were discovered and supof the people. By these means the imprudent plots pressed, without danger or disturbance; and, at length, no conspiracies were formed. At the same time, and with a similar object, he did all in his power to render the administration of Augustus moderate and just; and as he perfectly understood all the virtues and weaknesses of his character, he easily bent his disposition to the side of mercy. While he himself, as Prefect of the city, had retained the capital in admirable order and subjection, he was yet remarkable for the mildness with which he exercised this important office, to which belonged the management of all civil affairs in the absence of the Emperor, the regulation of buildings, provisions, and commerce, and the cognizance of all crimes committed within a hundred miles of the capital. Seneca, who is by no means favourable in other respects to the character of Maecenas, allows him a full tribute of praise for his clemency and mildness. "Maxima laus illi tribuitur mansuetudinis; pepercet gladio, sanguine abstinuit; nec ullâ alia re quid posset, quam licentiâ, ostendit." So sensible was Augustus of the benefit which his government received from the counsels and wise administration of Mæcenas, and such his high opinion of his sagacity, fidility and secrecy, that everything which concerned him, whether political or domestic,

was confided to this minister. Such, too, were the terms of intimacy on which they lived, that the Emperor when he fell sick, always made himself be carried to the house of Maecenas: so difficult was it to find repose in the habitation of a prince.

his administration, and while exercising almost an During the most important and arduous periods of unremitted assiduity, Maecenas had still the appearance of being sunk in sloth and luxury. Though he could exert himself with the utmost activity and vigilance, when these were required, yet, in his hours of softness as the most delicate lady in Rome. He was freedom, he indulged himself in as much ease and moderate in his desire of wealth or honours; he was probably indolent and voluptuous by nature and inclination; and he rather wished to exhibit than conceal his faults. But the thundering applause, which we are told by Horace resounded through the theatre, when he first appeared in that place of public resort, after a long and severe indisposition, evinces that his manners succeeded in gaining him popularity among his fellow-citizens. Dion Cassius also informs us, that he was beloved by those around the person of Augustus, to whose jealousy and envy he was more immediately exposed. That air of effeminate ease which he ever assumed, was, perhaps, good policy, in reference both to the prince and the people. Neither could be jealous of a minister who was ap parently so careless and indifferent, and who seemed occupied chiefly with his magnificent villas and costly furniture. He usually came abroad with a negligent gait and in a coarse garb. When he went to the theatre, forum, or senate, his ungirt robe trailed on the ground; and he wore a little cloak, with a hood like a fugitive slave in a pantomime. Instead of being followed by lictors or tribunes, he appeared in all public places attended by two eunuchs. possessed a magnificent and spacious villa on the Esquiline Hill, to which a tower adjoined, commanding a view of all the hills of Rome and the surrounding country, in different directions, as far as Tibur, Tusculum, and Præneste. The inner walls of this villa were of foreign marble, the ceiling glittered with gold, and the floors were of corresponding splendour. All the apartments were richly furnished. The tables were particularly costly, and of various forms. Having a passion for gems and pearls, Mæcenas had many jewellers and engravers in his employment, and his cabinet was adorned with all sorts of trinkets and precious stones, which his freedman, Thalation, had engraved and set in gold. Each chamber was likewise stored with precious ointments, and with every species of balsam, perfume, and essence, which might be refreshing or agreeable to

the senses.

He

The gardens of Maecenas which surrounded the villa, were among the most delightful in Rome or its vicinity. The ground, which was given to him the most unhealthy spot in the city. It had formerly by Augustus to lay out in gardens, was previously been a burying place, where the bodies of slaves and of those who had squandered their estates, were confusedly interred. The air, in consequence, was unwholesome, and noxious to the whole town. But Mæcenas converted this cemetery into a spot the most salubrious and delightful; adorning it with every species of rare and exotic plants; and forming walks, along which were placed statues of the most exquisite sculpture. Here, seated in the cool of his green spreading shade, where the most musical birds constantly warbled their harmonious notes, he was accustomed to linger, and pay at idle hours, his court

to the muses

lictors. But there too were Horace, and Varius, and Valgius, and Virgil!

Of these distinguished poets, and of many other literary men, Maecenas was, during his whole life, the patron, protector, and friend. Desert in learning never failed, in course of time, to obtain from him its due reward; and his friendship, when once procured, continued steady to the last. Poets, however, seem always to have enjoyed a preference; and the first place in his favour was justly held by those who ranked highest in their number. Had he not loved deprived of the chief works of the Mantuan bard, and cherished, posterity, perhaps, would have been and would have known him only by his imitative Eclogues:

Ipse per Ausonias Æneia carmina gentes
Qui canit, ingenti qui nomine pulsat Olympum,
Mæoniumque senem Romano provocat ore,
Forsitan illius nemoris latuisset in umbrâ
Quod canit, et sterili tantum cantasset avenâ,
Ignotus populis, si Mæcenate careret.

It was Virgil who first introduced Horace to the notice of Mæcenas; and though at first he paid no great attention to a young poet, as yet little distinguished by his works, and chiefly known as having fought in the Republican ranks at Philippi, he ad mitted him at length among the number of his domestic friends, selected him as a companion in all his expeditions, whether of business or pleasure; procured for him the favour of the Emperor, and at length gave him the most substantial proof of regard, by presenting him with a villa at Tibur, and obtain ing for him a grant of a farm, in the eastern district of the Sabine territory. Varius, who was the first tragic writer of his age, and, till the appearance of the Æneid, was accounted the greatest epic poet of Rome, and next in rank to Homer, as also Domitius Marsus, the best epigrammatist since the time of Catullus, were befriended and enriched by Maecenas. Propertius, likewise, in his elegies, repeatedly acknowledged him as his protector, as the encourager and guide of his studies, and as the statesman to whose party and principles he had uniformly and steadily adhered. To other writers and learned men whom he patronized, the palace of Mæcenas was an asylum, where they were not only main tained and protected, but became the friends and com panions of their illustrious host. They were introduced by him to his prince, as persons deserving of notice and royal munificence; they accompanied him to the banquets of the great, and followed him. in many excursions both of pleasure and business.

When he went to Brundusium, to negotiate a treaty between Augustus and Anthony, he was attended on dorus. his journey by Horace, Varius, Virgil, and Helio

Among the most distinguished men who freeasiness to each other; they were neither jealous nor quented the house of Mæcenas, a constant harmony seems to have subsisted. They never occasioned un envious of the favour and felicity which their rivals enjoyed. The noblest and most affluent of the num ber were without insolence, and the most learned without presumption. Merit, in whatever shape it appeared, occupied an honourable and unmolested

station.

As Mæcenas extended such liberal patronage to the learned, it is not surprising that the greatest productions of the Augustan age should have been inscribed by their authors with his name, in testimony of their respect and gratitude. At the head of these glorious works stand the Georgics of Virgil and Satires of Horace.

Maecenas is better known to posterity as a patron of literature than as an author; but, living in a poetical court, and surrounded with poets, it was almost impossible that he should have avoided the contagion of versification. He wrote a tragedy, called Octavia; a poem, intitled De Cultu; and some Phaleucian and Galliambic verses. All these have perished, except a few fragments cited by Seneca and the ancient grammarians. To judge from these extracts, their loss is not much to be regretted; and it is a curious problem in the literary history of Rome, that one who read with delight the works of Horace, should have himself written in a style so obscure and affected. The Roman critics have collected examples of uncommon inversions in language from their poets and orators, which have found a place in their works of rhetoric; and Quintilian refers to many arrangements of words in the poems of Mæcenas, which he thinks not allowable even in verse. The effeminacy of his manners appears to have tainted his language: though his ideas were sometimes happy, his style was loose, florid, and luxuriant; and he always aimed at winding up his periods with some turn of thought or expression which he considered elegant or striking. These conceits were called by Augustus his perfumed curls (Calamistri); and, in one of that Emperor's letters which is still preserved in Macrobius, he parodies the luxuriant and sparkling style affected by his minister.

Some idea of the mode of composition employed by Maecenas, at least in his smaller poems, may be formed from the following lines, in which he describes

a river, with the woods on its banks, and the boats
sailing on it, in a manner almost unintelligible:—

Amne sylvisque ripa comantibus,
Vides, ut alveum lintribus arent,
Versoque vado remittant hortos.

Or from the verses addressed to Horace, in which he declares that he is so grieved for the absence of the poet, that he has become careless, even concerning those gems for which he once had such an inordinate passion:

Lugens, O mea vita, te Smaragdos
Beryllos neque, Flacce, nec nitentes
Nuper, candida Margarita, quæro,
Nec quos Thynica lima perpolivit
Anellos, nec Jaspiri Lapillos.

One good and energetic line of his composition is preserved and applauded by Seneca :

Nec tumulum curo, sepelit natura relictos. Mæcenas continued to govern the state, to patronize good poets, and write bad verses, for a period of twenty years. During this long space of time, the only interruption to his felicity was the conduct of his wife, Terentia. This beautiful but capricious woman was the sister of Proculeius, so eminent for his fraternal love, as also of Licinius Muræna, who conspired against Augustus; and she is supposed by some, though I think erroneously, to be the Licymnia whom Horace celebrates for her personal charms and accomplishments, and for the passion with which she had inspired his patron. The extravagance and bad temper of this fantastical, yet lovely woman, were sources of perpetual chagrin and uneasiness to her husband. Though his existence was embittered by her folly and caprice, he continued through his whole life to be the dupe of the passion which he entertained for her. He could neither live with nor without her; he quarrelled with her, and was reconciled, almost every day, and put her away one moment to take her back the next, which led Seneca to remark that he was married a thousand times, yet never had but one wife.

Terentia vied in personal charms with the Empress Livia, and is said to have gained the affections of Augustus. She accompanied her husband and the Emperor on an expedition to Gaul, in the year 738, which, at the time, was reported to have been undertaken in order that Augustus might enjoy her society without attracting the notice or animadversions of the capital. Maecenas was not courtier enough to appear blind to the infidelities of Terentia, or to sleep for the accommodation of the Emperor, as the senator Galba is said to have slumbered for the minister. The umbrage Mæcenas took at the attentions paid by his master to Terentia is assigned by Dio Cassius as the chief cause of the decline of that imperial favour which Mæcenas experienced about forty years pre viously to his death. For although he was still treated externally with the highest consideration, though he retained all the outward show of grandeur and influence, and still continued to make a yearly present to the Emperor on the anniversary of his birth-day, he was no longer consulted in state affairs as a favourite or confident. Others have supposed that it was not the intrigue of Augustus with Terentia that diminished his influence, but a discovery made by the Emperor, that he had revealed to his wife some circumstances concerning the conspiracy in which her brother Muræna had been engaged. Suetonius informs us he had felt some displeasure on that account; but Muræna's plot was discovered in the year 732, and the decline of Mæcenas' political power cannot be placed earlier than the year 738. The disgust conceived by masters when they have given all, and by favourites who have nothing more to receive, or are satiated with honours, may partly account for the coldness that arose between Augustus and his minister. But the declining health of Mæcenas, and his natural indolence, increasing with the advance of years, afforded of themselves sufficient causes for his gradual retirement from public affairs. His constitution, which was naturally weak, had been impaired by effeminacy and luxurious living. He had laboured from his youth under a perpetual fever; and for many years before his death he suffered much from watchfulness, which was greatly aggravated by his domestic chagrins. Mæcenas was fond of life and enjoyment; and of life even without enjoyment. Hence he anxiously resorted to different remedies for the cure or relief of this distressing malady. Wine, soft music sounding at a distance, and various other contrivances, were tried in vain. At length, Antonius Musa, the imperial physician, who had saved the life of Augustus, but accelerated the death of Marcellus, obtained for him some alleviation of his complaint, by means of the distant murmuring of falling water. The sound was artificially procured at his villa on the Esquiline-hill. But during this stage of his complaint, Mæcenas resided principally in his villa at Tibur, situated on the banks of the Anio, and near its celebrated cascades. The chief falls of the Anio were heard at the villa, but there were also a number of jets, formed by the stream, which flowed down the hill, on which the palace of Mæcenas stood aloft. "Mæcenas' villa," says Eustace, "stands at the extremity of the town, on the

THE WISH.

How oft the gen'rous, with the selfish mated,

Must drag in lonesomeness a galling chain! How oft the two that might have lov'd are fated Never to meet, or soon to part again!

Yet here while in earth's wilderness we linger,

Desponding, sick at heart, unnerv'd in hand, Young Hope by times will point with cherub finger To spots of verdure in that "weary land." Some shadow of the good we're blindly seeking, Some scene of peace-some maid we might adore, Will thrill-like music of his far home, meeting The exile on a friendless foreign shore. With sighs one asks-O! might not, could not I, From heartless bustle, dungeon-gloom of town, With her to love me best, for ever fly,

'Mid still retirements, make my soul my own? In sunny vales calm homes arise for many; The sky, the earth, their glad looks spread for all; And may not friendship's balm be wish'd by any

Whose heart is true, and beats at friendship's call? Each chain'd to th' oar by thousand imag'd wants,

See Fashion's galley-slaves and Mammon's ply; Not theirs the bliss love earn'd by virtue grantsBy lofty aims and deeds that may not die! Their wages, gilded straws, for ever leaving, Might not one kindred pair go hand in handThe heart's joy with the mind's light interweaving To wisdom's haunts, to fancy's fairy land? Th' undying minds of ev'ry age around us,—

The world's, our being's, mystery to viewIf in us dwelt some thoughts might live beyond us, To form them, find them, hearers "fit tho' few."

In tasks like these were not enough to do?

In other's arms were not enough to feel?
Clear as the summer sun our days might flow,
And bright their end be like that sun's farewell.

Vain longings! vain! No pow'r will hear me,

To darkness fades my baseless dream; No bosom-friend or home must cheer me, Low toil, pale care sit mocking near me, My past, my future mates they seem.

A kingly thought with a captive's fate Wasteth the heart to misery driven : But to steadfast men in their low estate, By stern endeavourings, minds elate,

To light the gloom of life is given. And noble 'tis, without complaining,

Our lot to suffer, task fulfil,
Thro' scowls, neglect, and chill disdaining,
In pain-alone-our pride retaining,
Untir'd work out our purpos'd will.

Be calm'd, my soul! No act of thine
With fame can gild thy dreary doom;
But whoso walks firm duty's line
'Mid life's sick mists unstain'd may shine,
And-sound is the sleep of the tomb.

T.

Invincible Animal Spirits.-Scarron was seized with such a violent hiccup that all who were present began to fear for his life; however, when it abated, so as to give him some ease, says he with a serious air, "If ever I recover, I'll lash the hiccup in a very fine satire." His friends expected another kind of a resolution; but the public was deprived of this votive satire, the distemper in which he then lay carrying him off. Within a few minutes of his death, when his acquaintance were about him, all in tears, so far from being moved by such an affecting sight, he told them, very unconcernedly, "You'll never cry for me so much as I have made you laugh."

There is no surer mark of the absence of the highest moral and intellectual qualities than a cold reception of excellence.-Bailey.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We shall certainly not be the less desirous of expediting our version of Mr Landor's Latin Idyll (provided we can satisfy ourselves with it, when it be done) in consequence of the letter written us by a fair Correspondent from Wales. The book we had already seen, and attributed (we guess) to the right author. It will be noticed with as little delay as possible.

FREDERICUS will meet with due attention. Also the communication of J. T. for the 'Romance of Real Life.'

W. H. of Glasgow has nothing to fear for the truth and beauty of his feelings; but he has not yet acquired the art of doing them justice in verse.

The author of Hints for Table Talk,' will have seen that we have not forgotten him. Correspondents in general are requested to bear in mind, that articles intended for insertion are sometimes unavoidably thrust out and delayed by such of them as more immediately suit the printer's purpose, when he "makes up" the Journal for press. This is the case with almost every one of our numbers.

We have been much gratified by the letter of G. B. C. who describes himself as reading the London Journal,' "seated in his elbow chair by the side of a bright fire, opposite the partner of his joys and griefs busily employed in plying the needle." It is the right way of reading the Journal' in winter-time, especially if (as we hope) he occasionally reads aloud. Good husbands read to their wives, as birds warble to their industrious mates. G. B. C. may confidently reckon upon an ample account of the place he mentions.

We are obliged by the specimen of "Cabal and Love," from Schiller, but think it hardly a specimen of him worthy of his fame.

ASPIRO'S "Verses on presenting his Nephew with a Silver Cup," though not sufficiently surpassing the ordinary elegance of such things for publication, do all honour to his nature, and deserve the respect and gratitude of his young kinsman.

A book, with a letter, will be found at Mr Hooper's addressed to "One of the Million," if he will have the goodness to send for it.

LONDON: Published by H. HOOPER, 13, Pall Mall East. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 3. 1834.

A "NOW ;"

DESCRIPTIVE OF A COLD DAY.

Now, all amid the rigours of the year.-THOMSON.

A FRIEND tells us, that having written a "Now," descriptive of a hot day (See London Journal,' No. 17), we ought to write another, descriptive of a cold one; and accordingly we do so. It happens that we are, at this minute, in a state at once fit and unfit for the task, being in the condition of the little boy at school, who, when asked the Latin for "cold," said he had it "at his fingers' ends;" but this helps us to set off with a right taste of our subject, and the fire, which is clicking in our ear, shall soon enable us to handle it comfortably in other respects.

Now, then, to commence. But first, the reader who is good-natured enough to have a regard for these papers, may choose to be told of the origin of the use of this word Now, in case he is not already acquainted with it. It was suggested to us by the striking convenience it affords to descriptive writers, such as Thomson and others, who are fond of beginning their paragraphs with it, thereby saving themselves a world of trouble in bringing about a nicer conjuction of the various parts of their subject.

Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks-
Now flaming up to heav'n, the potent sun-
Now when the cheerless empire of the sky-
But now-

When nowWhere nowFor now-&c.

We say nothing of similar words among other nations, or of a certain But of the Greeks, which was as useful to them on all occasions as the And so of the little children's stories. Our business is with our old indigenous friend. No other Now can be so present, so instantaneous, so extremely Now as our own Now. The Now of the Latins,-Nunc, or Jam, as he sometimes calls himself,-is a fellow of past ages. He is no Now. And the Nun of the Greek is older. How can there be a Now which was Then? a "Now-then," as we sometimes barbarously phrase it. "Now and then" is intelligible; but "Nowthen" is an extravagance, fit only for the delicious moments of a gentleman about to crack his bottle, or to run away with a lady, or to open a dance, or to carve a turkey and chine, or to pelt snow-balls, or to commit some other piece of ultra-vivacity, such as excuses a man from the nicer proprieties of language. But to begin.

Now, the moment people wake in the morning, they perceive the coldness with their faces, though they are warm with their bodies, and exclaim, "Here's a day!" and pity the poor little sweep, and the boy with the water-cresses. How anybody can go to a cold ditch, and gather water-cresses, seems marvellous. Perhaps we hear great lumps in the street of something falling; and, looking through the window, perceive the roofs of the neighbouring houses thick with snow.

The breath is visible, issuing from the mouth as we lie. Now we hate getting up, and hate shaving, and hate the empty grate in one's bed-room, and water freezes in ewers, and you may set the towel upright on its own hardness, and the window-panes are frost-whitened, or it is foggy, and the sun sends a dull, brazen beam into one's room; or, if it is fine, [From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.]

No. 36.

the windows outside are stuck with icicles; or a detestable thaw has begun, and they drip; but, at all events, it is horribly cold, and delicate shavers fidget about their chambers, looking distressed, and cherish their hard-hearted enemy, the razor, in their bosoms, to warm him a little, and coax him into a consideration of their chins. Savage is a cut, and makes them think destiny really too hard.

Now breakfast is fine; and the fire seems to laugh at us as we enter the breakfast-room, and say, "Ha! ha! here's a better room than the bed-chamber!" and we always poke it before we do anything else; and people grow selfish about seats near it; and little boys think their elders tyrannical for saying, “Oh, you don't want the fire; your blood is young." And truly that is not the way of stating the case, albeit young blood is warmer than old. Now the butter is too hard to spread; and the rolls and toast are at their maximum; and the former look glorious as they issue, smoking, out of the flannel in which they come from the baker's; and people who come with single knocks at the door are pitied; and the voices of boys are loud in the street, sliding, or throwing snow-balls; and the dust man's bell sounds cold; and we wonder how anybody can go about selling fish, especially with that hoarse voice; and schoolboys hate their slates, and blow their fingers, and detest infinitely the nofire at school; and the parish-beadle's nose is redder than ever.

Now sounds in general are dull, and smoke out of chimnies looks warm and rich, and birds are pitied, hopping about for crumbs, and the trees look wiry and cheerless, albeit they are still beautiful to imaginative eyes, especially the evergreens, and the birch with boughs like dishevelled hair. Now mud in roads is stiff, and the kennel ices over, and boys make illegal slides in the pathways, and ashes are strewed before doors; or you crunch the snow as you tread, or kick mud-flakes before you, or are horribly muddy

in cities. But if it is a hard frost, all the world is buttoned up and great-coated, except ostentatious elderly gentlemen, and pretended beggars with naked feet; and the delicious sound of "All hot" is heard from roasted apple and potatoe-stalls, the vender himself being cold, in spite of his "hot," and stamping up and down to warm his feet; and the little boys

are astonished to think how he can eat bread and

cold meat for his dinner, instead of the smoking apples.

PRICE THREE HALFPEnce.

had done wonders; whereas you have fairly had three slips, and can barely achieve the inside edge.

Now riders look sharp, and horses seem brittle in the legs, and old gentlemen feel so; and coachmen, cabmen, and others, stand swinging their arms across at their sides to warm themselves; and blacksmiths' shops look pleasant, and potatoe shops detestable; the fishmongers' still more so. We wonder how he can live in that plash of wet and cold fish, without even a window. Now clerks in offices envy the one next the fire-place; and men from behind counters hardly think themselves repaid by being called out to speak to a Countess in her chariot; and the wheezy and effeminate pastry cook, hatless and aproned, and with his hand in his breeches-pockets (as the graphic Cruikshank noticeth in his almanack) stands outside his door, chilling his household warmth with attending to the ice which is brought him, and seeing it unloaded into his cellar like coals. Comfortable look the Miss Joneses, coming this way with their muffs and furs; and the baker pities the maid-servant cleaning the steps, who, for her part, says, she is not cold,

which he finds it difficult to believe.

Now dinner rejoiceth the gatherers together, and cold meat is despised, and the gout defieth the morrow, thinking it but reasonable, on such a day, to inflame itself with "t'other bottle;" and the sofa is wheeled round to the fire after dinner, and people proceed to burn their legs in their boots, and little boys their faces; and young ladies are tormented between the cold and their complexions, and their fingers freeze at the piano-forte, but they must not say so, because it will vex their poor comfortable grandaunt, who is sitting with her knees in the fire, and who is so anxious that they should not be spoilt.

Now the muffin-bell soundeth sweetly in the streets, reminding us, not of the man, but his muffins, and of twilight, and evening, and curtains, and the fireside. Now play-goers get cold feet, and invalids stop up every crevice in their rooms, and make themselves worse; and the streets are comparatively silent; and the wind rises and falls in moanings; and fires burn blue and crackle; and an easy chair with your feet by it on a stool, the lamp or candles a little behind you, and an interesting book just opened where you left off, is a bit of heaven upon earth. People in cottages crowd close into the chimney, and tell stories of ghosts and murders, the blue flame affording something like

evidence of the facts.

"The owl, with all her feathers, is a-cold,"* or you think her so. The whole country feels like a petrifaction of slate and stillness, cut across by the wind; and nobody in the mail-coach is warm but the horses, who steam pitifully when they stop. The "oldest man" makes a point of never having 66 seen such weather." People have a painful doubt whether they have any chins or not; ears ache with the wind; and the waggoner goes puckering up his teeth, and thinking the time will never arrive when he shall get to the Five Bells.

At night, people get sleepy with the fire-side, and long to go to bed, yet fear it on account of the dif ferent temperature of the bed-room; which is fur