it impossible to appear within the walls of the chapel at this season of the year-the mornings are so extremely short 'tis impossible to be dressed in season.

qually valuable whether more or less be enlightened by the sun, but for those who do not love labor it is an admirable apology for idleness, and because the time is short in which much must be done, it is used as an argument for omitting almost every thing.

The fact is, any thing will satisfy an idle man that he need not exert himself—it is very easy to satisfy the mind, when it is resolved to make no objections, and the wind and the weather, the sun or the tide are always at command to illustrate the necessity of any course that can be adopted.

These short days are great disturbers of public worship-they infringe upon the Sabbath more than on any day in the week-Sunday morning is in many people's estimation the shortest in the year. Either it is that the want of a bus tle of business on that day or the necessary relaxation of a week's labor composes their minds and prevents a knowledge how time passes, or the morning is actually shorter and the hour of church is really much sooner than the ordinary hours There is a general propensity, of common daily business. I nev- however to throw away the blame er heard however that the shortness which conscience or custom attachof the day destroyed a single partyes to the conduct, from the agent of pleasure; that it ever prevented himself to any cause that can plaua dining party or a ball, although it bly be made to sustain it. But the has been suggested that it once motive is one thing and the reasons drove the last acrost the boundary that are given to support it another. line of the week and sometimes To find the character of the mind, lengthened the other to day light you must look deeper than the ac next morning-The shortest day is tion or its assignable cause, and howalways found to have room enough ever, a man may deceive others or for pleasure and though the sun ri- himself with excuses framed from ses so late as to leave business in the course of nature and the progress the dark, the want of his rays are no of time, yet an accute observer will objection to schemes of amusement. find that the heart takes an interest But is it really the short days which before the mind is engaged, and prevent so much business, inter- sophistry is brought out to palliate rupt so many avocations, and re- what is determined to be doc-It tard the completion of so many is not however honorable for a man economical designs? Is it a com-to shrink from the responsibility of plaint heard on the bustle of the his own actions and he who conExchange, where money depends ducts with the integrity of an upon exertion? Is it the cry of indus-right mind will have no need of extry and the complaint of labor? Or trinsic assistance, or artificial aid— rather the apology of idleness-the The weather and the time will of weak excuse for lazy and indolent necessity sometimes interfere with minds? human calculations, but he must be credulous indeed to carry to their account one half the mischief, and accidents that are daily laid to their charge.

You will seldom hear it among those who are able and willing to change time into gold. No-they can make the twenty-four hours e

E.

For the Emerald.

interesting occurrence solely to the dictates of her heart.

ORIGINAL TRANSLATION.

Appollonius, king of Tyre, was

voluimus, magna sæpe intelligimus ex unable to resist the desire of seeing

parvis.

THE REWARD OF VIRTUE,

a woman of whom so many amiable traits of character had come to his From the French of M. Fluetry. knowledge, and determined on a voyage to Cyrene for the purpose. FORTITUDE under the evils of Appolonius was young-tall, and life is absolutely necessary for our elegantly formed-gay, easy and happiness. That restlessness on vivacious in his manners-brave, the contrary, which is marked by generous, and in a word, possessed peevishness and murmuring, is an of all those virtues which entitle one attempt to elevate our own judgman to the respect and honour of ment against that of the divinity, of others. Archestrate, in spite of her whose profound decrees we are ig-natural indifference, could not but norant; to reverse the order of na- behold him with pleasure, and deture for our own pleasure, and pre-lighted in conversing of him with vent the occurrence of those appar- the women of her train. This was ent calamities, which are oftentimes the first effect which love had ever productive of essential good. A been able to produce on her. Apwise man is not perplexed with this pollonius was impressed with simiuntimely capriciousness-He knows lar feelings-He found every thing the dangers to which all men are which he had heard, and tho't to be exposed; he attempts every reason-exaggeration, but a weak outline of able manner of avoiding them, and having exhausted the resources of his own prudence, patiently awaits the operations of time. The following little story is intended to illustrate these sentiments, and to show that virtue and constancy often triumph over the rigors of fortune. Theocles, king of Cyrene, had a daughter named Archestrate-his only child. She united in a person the most elegant and beautiful, the noblest qualities of the heart and the mind, and had arrived at an age when these advantages call forth the tribute of love. The report of her charms drew to the court of her ather a crowd of princes, who strove for the honour of her smile. But the princess, devoted entirely to the exercises of Diana, had no heart for any thing that was not connected with her service. Theocles tenderly loved his daughter, and determined to use no authority in constraining her marriage, leaving this

those charms which were every day before his eyes. It is easy to encrease the allurements of an ordinary beauty; but those which nature has taken pleasure in forming, cannot be traced but by a pencil the most delicate and true.

Appollonius soon discovered to Archestrate the feelings of his bosom, and she, all nature and virtue, was ignorant of the arts of coquetry, now so well understood, which leads a lover by slow degrees to the happiness he aspires to.

With the consent of Theocles, who had no other wish than the happiness of his daughter, the marriage was soon celebrated with all that pomp which should be expected from two kings who prided themselves on their magnificence and grandeur.

Theocles could not consent to be separated from his only child, and engaged them to stay for some time at the court of Cyrene. Archestrate

AP

shortly gave promise of adding to becoming a mother, yet the violent the felicity of her husband and agitation of the vessel brought on father, by the birth of a child. those pains which rendered it cerThis was a new source of joy; fetes tain that nature would be delivered the most splendid were recommenc-of the burthen which she carried.— ed, and the people had another op- In fine, during the horrors of the portunity of expressing their at-tempest she gave birth to a daughter. tachment to the family and person Appollonius received the charge and of their affectionate monarch. But trembled to view the dangers to the presence of the prince of Tyre which this innocent creature was exbecame absolutely necessary in his posed at the moment of its birth,— own dominions, and obliged them The violence of the storm continued to quit Cyrene. The king equip-to increase, and drove the ship on a ped a vessel, in which he put every rock, where she remained. accommodation that the new chestrate reduced to the most dequeen could desire; and the happy plorable situation, collected the litcouple, still regarding each other tle strengh that remained, in order as lovers, embarked, after taking to be placed on a part of the railing; the most tender adieu of Theocles. but in the act of doing it was washThe first days of their voyage ed into the sea. Appollonius was were extremely fine, and they had unwilling to survive the loss of his completed nearly one half the beloved--he would have thrown passage, when the signs of an ap- himself into the sea to have saved proaching tempest were discovered. his Archestrate or perished with The sky was obscured with black her, but despair fixed him to the clouds the sea foamed-the mon- spot on which he stood.-Ah-the sters of the deep were floating moment of returning reason inon its surface. Presently the im- formed him he was a father-be petuous winds broke out and drove held his young daughter in his arms, the agitated waters in tremendous the little unfortunate stretched out waves the lightning succeeded with her hands and seemed to implore his astonishing rapidity-the air appear-protection-he could not resolve to ed in flames-the thunder roared injure a deposit so precious-no rein continued peals-the winds re-source was left to him but to invoke doubled their efforts, and rendered the protection of the Gods for his every manœuvre of the mariners in dear Archestrate, who semed to pervain, till the vessel, without any ish before his eyes. thing but its scattered ropes and masts was thrown about at the sport of the elements, now raised as it would appear to the heavens and then plunged in the most frightful abyss. The timid Archestrate, almost terrified to death, believed herself arrived at her last moments-her tender husband held her in his arms, endeavouring to animate and support her during the tremendous scene, when a new accident increased their distress. Although Archestrate had but seven months anticipated

SKETCH of the HISTORY of LITERA-
TURE in EUROPE from the AGE of av-
GUSTUS to that of LOUIS XIV. By H.

DE LA HARPE.

(Concluded from p. 41.)

It was at the same period that England had her Shakespeare, who, with the beauties and faults of the two Spanish writers, and without carrying the art farther than they did, bore the prize by the charms of a natural talent, sometimes elevated to the sublime of imagination, to the eloquence

It

of vehement passions, and the energy century, which was, in fact, that of of tragic characters. By these pre-France. The French language began cious morsels, so much the more at- to be purified, assuming more exact tractive as they are with him the more forms, and a more dignified tone. rare and more uniformly mingled with acquired harmony in the verse of Malbaser matter, Shakespeare rose above herbe and the prose of Balzac. Taste his age, in which true tragedy was eve-had, however, many obstacles to surry where unknown; but since genius mount. Our progress was retarded by of the first order, under Louis XIV. the same spirit of imitation which is and in our days, has in France borne necessary in the moment when the arts tragedy to her greatest height, it be-revive, but which has its disadvantages longs only to national prejudice amongst the English, or with us to a paradoxical mania, to compare the masters of the greatest of arts among a polished people with a writer who, in the midst of the barbarism of his country and his writings shed forth some rays of genius. Portugal may boast of having given to this period one poet more. Camoens had, indeed, little invention; but in more than one place he displayed the elevation of Homer, and in the episode of Ines the touching expression of Virgil.

His poem,greatly below his subject, which was grand,-defective in the plan, which is nearly historical, -recommends itself chiefly by that species of beauty which contributes most to give immortality to the works of poesy, by the beauty of its style.

as well as its use. If the first models to which we attach ourselves are not pure, they are dangerous, because it is more easy to imitate their faults than their beauties. When the Romans demanded of the Greeks lessons in poesy and eloquence, the taste of the masters was too perfect to corrupt the disciple. But Italy and Spain, which gave the tone to all Europe when letters began to revive in France, had great faults, and unfortunately very seducing, in their literature. The bombast of the Spaniards, and the affectation of the Italians, therefore necessarily prevailed in France before she learnt to study true taste in the writings of the ancients. Books, sports, spectacles, dress, every thing in France was Italian or Spanish. Their authors were in every one's hand, and made part of our education. Our poets formed themselves upon theirs. Gallant poetry cloathed itself with those turns of Ital

In Germany Tycho Brahe and Kepler,--one, notwithstanding his errors, regarded as the benefactor of the sciences, the other named the legislator of astronomy and the worthy precursorian wit called concetti. Dramatic poetof Newton,-indemnified their country for her defects in the finer arts.

ry had the same ambition; and our most esteemed authors then made MelEngland, destined soon to become pomene speak in puns and epigrams. the mistress of the world in abstruse The Mariamne of Tristan, and the Sosciences and sound metaphysics, might,phonisba of Mairet, are infected with at that time oppose to all the great men this ridiculous style; and these were I have named, the Lord Chancellor Ba- the wonders of our theatre when Corcon, one of those hardy and independ-neille produced the Cid and Cinna. ent tempers who owe every thing to a deep examination of their own unbiassed thoughts, and to the habit of considering every thing as if no one before had treated of it. He fulfilled the whole promise of the title which he dared, from the secret testimony of his own genius, to give to that immortal work (Novum Scientiarum Organum,) which taught philosophy to take no further steps but on the sure ground of experience; and it is in pursuing this inestimable lesson that the science of physics is become what alone it ought to be, the science of facts.

We advance towards the seventeenth

Comedy, equally built on the Italian and Spanish model, was a species of romance in dialogue, a series of inci dents destitute at once of probability and decorum, what at present is named imbroglio, that is to say, disguises of sex, forced mistakes, tricks of valets, in a word, all those gross devices which had fallen into disrepute amongst us ever since Moliere had taught true comedy, consisting of plot, manners, and characters, but which in our days have again appeared and triumphed in our theatres because the multitude must have novelty, and nothing appears to them more new than that which has

THE EMERALD.

not been seen for an hundred years.

A passion for buffoonery gave birth to a species of burlesque, which had also its reign, of which Scarron was the hero. But to unite the two extremes of bad taste, there prevailed at the same time another kind of affectation, the style called preciceux, which is the abuse of delicacy, as the burlesque is of gaiety. A society which is no longer spoken of but to ridicule it, but which by its rank had immense influence, the society at the famous hotel of Rambouillet, contributed to preserve that obscure and affected language which was taken for exquisite politeness, and was no more than the pedantry of wit replacing the pedantry of erudition. If

same. To say all in one word, it was ancients, they taught us to become the from their school that proceeded Pascal and Racine; Pascal, who gave us the first work in which the language ap. peared fixed and polished, and in which all modes of eloquence were included; Racine, the eternal model of French poetry.

which we still name the-Age of Louis These names characterize the epoch XIV.

FOR THE EMERALD

THE ORDEAL.....No. 15.

Continued.

HAMLET, in order to give the great

Be

first to Ophelia. As to her his passion was most sincere and unabated, and a change to rudeness in regard to her would be the more remarkable. sides, his disorder would thus be most easily accounted for, and indeed, Polonious suspects at once he is mad for the love of Ophelia. But rudeness alone is not sufficient to establish the belief of the change, and Hamlet puts on all the exterior marks, which distracted people generally betray, and which his feigning rendered the more necessary.

we recollect that it was Richelieu, Con- Remarks on the performance of Hamlet. dé, Montausier, and other eminent persons, who frequented this celebrated house, where love and poetry were submitted to the most sophisticated anal-er likelihood to his madness, evinces it ysis, we shall readily conceive that these characters, so great in their respective classes, could not be very good masters in matters of taste. As to the men of letters who assembled there, they were Chapelain, who, not having yet published his Pucelle, passed for the greatest of poets; Menage, who did not want information and taste, since he was the first to do justice to the satire of Moliere, when that comic writer produced his Precieuses ridicules; and Voiture, of all the wits the most fashionable; who, welcome at the Court, where he held honourable offices,---a man of the world and a man of letters,-enjoyed one of those imposing reputations which it is dangerous to attack, and before whom Boileau himself, then indeed young, prostrated himself, as did all France.

The hotel of Rambouillet had its use.

It sanctioned the fashion of employing the mind on every thing, and it is by that we must begin. We learn after to employ on each object only the sort of talent that is suited to it, and by that it is we ought to finish it is the abridgment and perfection of taste.

"My Lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, No hat upon his head, his stockings fouľ¿ Ungarter'd," &c.

This description given by Ophelia, is exactly what the appearance of Hamlet should be. But Mr. Cooper entered almost without any alteration in his appearance. The mad scenes in this play have often been considered the most difficult of execution; they demand so much discrimination, so many changes from merriment to sorrow, from vehemence to listlessness, as require all the faculties of the actor to be exerted. Our particular is his want of variety. chief objection to Mr. Cooper in this in the play-scene he was very eminent. But tend with more effect than the following, We have seldom heard a passage ut

The true school of taste was opened at Port-Royal; and if the spirit of party seduced the great men belonging to that society into unhappy quarrels which disturbed their age, we here only consider them as the benefactors of letters," and we must render homage to the monuments they have left us. Heirs and disciples of the literature of the

Let the gall'd jade wince, our withers are unwrung."

The irresolution of Hamlet is distinguished throughout the play. First he