Page images
PDF
EPUB

cholic-another at sunrise-and feel this morning as if I had slept in Paradise. It is too insufferable. The fates are against me. I fear I shall never see another sick day. If I had continued to drink, I warrant me I should have had the headache daily, as usual. But now that I want an excuse for taking the least drop in the world, I feel as light as a swallow. Well, some people are born to fortune. I was always a luckless dog! If I detest any thing, it is water. of a fountain whose waters were glass.

Horace speaks better than the

"Fons Bundusiæ splendior vitro."

We have no such springs here-though it is true a slight dash of water in your wine, of a hot day, is not out of place—a mere trifle; it gives it a dewy freshness, which-but why should I dwell on this! I am without hope. "My pulse beats like an eight-day-clock." I despair of the headache, and will bethink me of some other excuse. If I could but find an apology for one glass, I would lay up a stock of "bodily infirmity" for a year.

After all, can I deny that they are in the right? Think of the wives lonely and desolate-the children starving-the wretched victims of drunkenness themselves, bound in these woven and strong-linked chains which it is so hard for me to break. Think of these! I do not regret-struggle as thou wilt— thou almost invincible habit, that I have disappointed thee! I remember now that men wagged their heads as I passed them, and said-what they shall not say again. No! I am no drunkard! My hand is firmer. It trembles not as before. My step is lighter-my sleep is sweeter-and that thirst burning like a fire within me, is less agonizing. My tortures are dying away with the flame-and now, O God! as I look back, I see-I feel-I know that I was almost (was I not quite ?) A DRUNKARD!

Yet one glass! It would still my heart's throbbing-only one-I shall desire no more. It shall be the last-the farewell glass. It is at my lips— the liquor has a celestial fragrance. I can imagine no deeper bliss than such a draught inspires—and it is at my lips! I taste its sparkling foam. Onceonce only! Shall I drink? One moment to decide! No! Again I am a man. Drop by drop, I pour it out upon the ground, like water. GOD! I THANK THEE, I AM SAFE!

[blocks in formation]

IMRI:

OR, THE BRIDE OF A STAR.

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO GEORGE D. PRENTICE, ESQ

PART II.

Eve came again, as lovely as when first She threw her mantle over earth and sea, And one by one the pale star-wanderers burst Thro' the blue veil, as glad that they were free To scan the beauty of each flower and tree. How much of loveliness above us liesHow much of beauty which we may not see! In vain, in vain we strain our eager eyes To see what chains our hearts with such mysterious ties.

Leora, the Egyptian, sat alone

Within her orange-bower, while some strange thought Seem'd busy at her heart; the moon-beams shone And struggled thro' the flowers, as if they sought To look on one with Eden-beauty fraught: Tho' thro' the leaves they hung like crystal bars, And on the twinkling flowers such beauty wrought, She saw them not-her heart was with the stars, Those isles of loveliness which time ne'er mars.

A gentle being she had ever been, Whose hopes were all in fancy's wide domain; So pure in spirit, the foul demon sin Had round her never dared to cast his chain, Nor leave upon her heart one sable stain. But she had freighted life's too fragile bark With hopes which must like all things human wane, And, like the dove, she left the sheltering ark

And found a dreary waste, a pathway lone and dark!

Oh! Fancy, bright-wing'd fairy of the heart, When thou dost spread thy many-color'd wings, We follow to a realm which has no part Of earth in its foundation. Lovely things Ye are, oh, Love and Hope!-the gentle springs From which Life's dark and varied rivers flow;But fancy leads us on, perchance, where clings Some bright-hued leaf and flower of gaudy show, And we forget the stream down which we wish'd to go.

And so it was-Leora left the stream From which she might have gather'd many a joy, Lured on by many a wild delicious dreamBy many a seeming bright, yet tinsell'd toy With which the fairy fancy doth decoySeeking for love which life may never own; And, spurning that as free from earth's alloy As any which on human hearts has shone, Sighing for that which but in Paradise is known!

Imagination had worn out her frame, And stolen from her cheek its native bloom; So, at a glance, the trembling color came Up from her heart-depths, leaving in its room' A crimson spot which told a fearful doomThe silent herald of a sure decayThe sad precursor of an early tombTelling that rosy health had passed away, That youth, nor love, nor hope, stern death could stay.

The orange trees with bridal-flowers were starredWith buds, which, pearl-like, on the branches hung— Save some, perchance, by passing breezes marr'd, Whose snowy petals upon earth were flungAnd even there their fragrance to them clung; As one stole softly to Leora's side,

Whose darkly flashing eye and merry tongue, Told of a heart in which the swelling tide

Of hope had never ebb'd-whose soul had ne'er been tried!

And, as she gazed upon Leora's face,

Her heart seem'd by some secret impulse stirr'd; She seem'd as striving earnestly to trace The hidden meaning of some mystic wordHer voice like that of some sweet merry bird. "My sister! still thy dreams around thee rise, Still, wild delusions thou dost round thee girdThe things which seem so lovely in thy eyes, Are but the shades of flowers that grow in Paradise!"

"My bright-eyed Io! come and rest thy head
Upon my bosom, as thou did'st of yore;
For every bitter tear which I may shed
Will find an answer in thy young heart's core :
Thou know'st, ere childhood's rosy reign was o'er,
That I had drunk of many a fabled spring,
And fill'd my heart with Egypt's classic lore-
How can I now away my bright dreams fling?
How shall I fold for aye sweet fancy's radiant wing?

"Did I not learn to look upon the skies
Ere reason dawned upon my infant mind?
To think the stars were some bright spirit-eyes
Which look'd in pity on our erring kind?
As I grew older, thought grew more refined-
my first fancy clung around my heart,
More beautiful, perchance, but firmly twined
Around its breathing core, till human art
Could not destroy that which of life was part!"

Still

"My dear Leora! life will be to thee
A weary pilgrimage of grief and pain:
Thou'st launch'd thy bark on speculation's sea,
And sad will be the guerdon thou wilt gain-
For even now thy health begins to wane ;
Thou canst not win the stars, a Master hand
Each one upon its pearly car doth chain;

Tho' thou wast gifted with great Hermes' wand,

Thou couldst not win them from their far-off native land!"

"Oh! would that I might win one from its sphere'Twere sweet to know a soul so fond as mine, When it had fled its mortal frame of fear, Should in that far-off azure mansion shine, Mated with one which e'er had been divine : Lo! there are two, the least is pale and dim, The other glowing with a gorgeous line Of glittering light set round it as a rimClose, side by side, singing their grateful hymn!

"I've watch'd them many an eve, till I have thought That pale star once had worn a mortal frameSome fair-brow'd girl perchance, who fondly sought A mate among the stars. It is not fame-Tis not the pining for a brilliant name That leads the heart thro' such a dream as this; No! 'tis the spring which wells in heaven, the same As in pure hearts-the one we ever missThe fount of pure, etherial love of changeless bliss!"

She did not know dark eyes were gazing thro'

The softly parted jasmine—that a heart
Which beat to all love's dearest feelings true,

Was near her own. Imri had stood apart,

With which she strove to win her sister's love;

Admiring the fair lo's gentle art,

And in his breast he felt the pulses start,
Lest she, the beautiful and timid dove,

Might weary in her dreams of things which laid above.

"Leora! let me win thee back to earth, And round thee weave affection's gentle chain; Surely, thou wilt not barter love's sweet worth For things which have their home within the brainThy books and flowers have long neglected lainWould I had power such fancies to uproot! Alas! that love should strive so long in vain! And see, where hangs thy fondly treasur'd luteThou art its mistress still, and yet its chords are mute."

She ceas'd, and round Leora's form she twined Her snowy arms, and look'd into her eyes

As if to see the workings of her mind: She did not know the mighty spell which lies Upon a heart link'd by such mystic ties! Sadly she took the lute from where it hung, And woke its slumbers with fond mem'ry's sighsAnd, as her fingers forth the rich tones flung, A song of memory and blue-eyed hope she sung.

IO'S SONG.

Oh! hast thou forgotten the beautiful hours
When we roved by the redolent banks of the Nile-
When we gather'd the bright and the delicate flowers,
And revell'd in nature's luxuriant smile?

And when o'er some fable thy young heart was dreaming,
I've woven sweet garlands to place on thy brow:
Then come, for the banks of the sweet Nile are gleaming
With flowers as bright and as beautiful now.

Oh! come, ere each radiant night-flower closes
Its leaves 'neath the waters that sparkle below;
I will weave thee a garland of fresh-blooming roses
Which in the pale star-light so brilliantly glow.

Oh! hast thou forgotten the bright fountain springing
Up thro' the sweet buds which repose on its breast,
And the beautiful Nile-birds so gracefully winging
Their way to each quiet and leaf-cover'd nest?

The lute was laid aside, and hush'd the songLeora's heart was touch'd by music's might, And gentle memories, a bright-eyed throng, Came bearing back the past unstain'd and bright, Tinging the future with soft hues of light. To lo's brow Leora's lips were prest,

And softly whispering-"Let us go to night And look upon the dark Nile's peaceful breastThe happy birds and flowers that on it sweetly rest!"

The moon had waned thrice in the far blue sky, Since Imri and Leora first begun

To feel that to be parted were to die-
That they the goal of happiness had won-
That nothing could obscure life's radiant sun.
Alas! that life, Mokanna-like, should throw
Aside the veil and show that we would shun-

That life's fresh stream, its pure and sparkling flow, Should darken as towards the heaving sea we go!

Oh, Love! what art thou in a world like this? The bright creation of some yearning heart— The lovely shadow of a perfect bliss From which we're doom'd in misery to part! Love! in this crowded and unquiet mart,

The Eden of thy beauty quickly flies!

If yearning spirits, or weak human art,

Could lure thee downwards from thy native skies, Thy presence would on earth make many a paradise.

Yet there are hearts which keep their sacred trust Unsullied by this world's foul spreading stain, Till in the tomb they go down "dust to dust"Who never weary of love's silken chain, Nor think his gentle yoke is worn in vain! Yes! there is many a pure untainted breastBrows which have never worn the brand of CainSpirits which look not to the world for restThat there are such, mine own heart can attest! Love grows more sweetly e'er in solitudeAnd so Leora and her lover thought; The high and star-born Imri was subduedEarth seemed to him with loveliness o'erfraught, And all his dreams of happiness were naught To that which now was his. For hours he hung Entranc'd o'er visions which Leora wroughtRound every sweet word falling from her tongue Love's purple halo of delight was fondly flung!

He thought not of the Eden he had left,
Or if, perchance, he ever gazed at even,
Upon the azure sky which was bereft

Of one fair star that erst had shone in heaven,
It was not that he wish'd the sweet bond riven;
He would not have recall'd the gentle vow
Of sweet fidelity which he had given,
To fix the sparkling gem upon his brow
Which fame or bright-eyed glory might allow !

Ambition! thou art strong-but stronger still
Art thou, oh! meek-eyed Love! Soul-stirring Fame
Her charmed chalice to the brim may fill,
Sending her subtle fire throughout the frame-
And red-brow'd glory striving for a name;
But stronger, stronger still than ye are strong,
Is gentle love, tho' seemingly so tame;
And ah! how often do ye toil along,
And never hear Love's sweet and lulling song.
Clark's Mills, Ohio, March 1840.

EGERIA.

CHARLOTTESVILLE ADVOCATE. LUCIAN MINOR, Esq., whose connexion with this paper we noticed in our March No., has recently abdicated the editorial chair. It was Mr. M's aim to preserve a neutrality in politics-to present under their several heads, articles in favor of the Administration party, and articles in favor of the Opposition, or Whig party. This attempt he has abandoned at present, but-it is but justice to him to say—not from any conviction of its impracticability. We are assured by him, that his "convictions of the practicability and boundless advantages of this plan are heightened, by his experiment, to absolute intensity." We hope to receive from him, for the Messenger, a sketch of his plan, with the arguments that go to support it. In the meantime we copy from the Advocate, the following article from his pen.

[ocr errors]

MODEL OF A LAWYER.

When consulted about the bringing of a suit, he rigidly cross-examines his client touching the grounds of his claim, and dissuades him from proceeding, when it appears ill-supported; nay, if the client insists on going to law, the lawyer refuses to aid him: so that of him it may be said, as of Sir Arthur Somers in the story, that "he loses more cases out of court, and fewer in it," than any other lawyer in all the country-side.

[blocks in formation]

He "makes not" (as Fuller says) "a Trojan siege of suit; but seeks to bring it to a set battel in a speedy trial." He disdains pedantic display, appeals to prejudice, an timely pomp of language, and every other form of charlatanry. He does not wrap up the sense of legal instruments which he writes, in a multitude of useless words, to make them seem mysterious and difficult, so that the merit of his work and the amount of his fee may be enhanced: but uses the simplest and briefest language that the subject admits of omitting no clause or word that may be proper to give due strength and undoubted clearness.

At the Bar, he strives never to misrepresent the facts on either side, or the arguments of his adversary: and is care ful to lay down as law, to court or jury, nothing but what he knows or believes to be law. Equally careful is he, neve to deny that that is law, which he knows or believes to be So. He never tries by laughing, or grimace, or interruption to weaken what his opponent is saying.

Instead of attempting to brow-beat or abash younger law yers, he does all that he can to help and encourage them knowing, that the embarrassment of rising to speak in cour is apt enough to overpower them, without being hectores over by their more brazen elders.

He serves his clients just as ably and faithfully when they can pay him no fee, as if they paid him hundreds: and su as do pay him, much oftener wonder at the lowness of h charges, than complain of their exorbitancy. Yet he is a ways anxious rather to exceed, than to fall below the char ges of his brethren-not wishing to supplant them by any means but superior attention and ability.

In fine, he feeds no employer's ill-nature, by wounding the feelings of an adverse witness or party: nor can be de terred by any personal danger, from lashing fraud, perjury or impertinence.

[blocks in formation]

THE WANDERER'S MEMENTOS.

WRITTEN DURING ABSENCE FROM HOME, AND AFFEC-
TIONATELY INSCRIBED TO MY WIFE,

BY PROFESSOR WM. H. FONERDEN.

'Mid the snows of the North and the suns of the South,
The halls of the East and the wilds of the West;
In my day-dreams of bliss and my visions by night,

Thine image, my Sweet One, still lives in my breast.

Where the tall, snowy plumes of the Green Mountain wave,
While Boreas sweeps unimpeded o'er earth,
I think of the purity, hallowed and bright,

Which circling my Mary, hath shone from her birth.

Where Florida's sun,

like Italia's soft sky,

The orange-grove tints, the magnolia perfumes, Eve's zephyrs, with fragrance of India fraught,

Still whisper of beauty that on thy cheek blooms.

The music that swells in the halls of the East,

spect? Perhaps it is a demerit in me, to have instituted public premiums to the young artists? To have spent a thousand crowns from my private purse of late ycars, to save the medals of the Pope? To have given pensions to some of the Roman Alumni, who have shown talent and promise in the Arts? It will be a great sin, to have undertaken the statue of Religion, larger than any statue in Rome, and which could not be finished by any body else for less than forty thousand crowns? I do not say this vauntingly, or to attempt to exalt myself; as it flowed from a mind naturally disposed to do good to others, and from a conscience unstained with the shadow of suspicion or falsehood."

The Sculptor used to descant on his various works, with the same apparent impartiality that he did on the works of others. Some of his excellent criticisms are still preserved, and are too valuable to be withheld, as they show with what an impartial eye he viewed his own works. He has the following on the statue of Madame Bonaparte.

"It appears to some a crime, that I have recorded in this statue the action of Agrippina, but the author of Agrippina would not have pronounced it so,-as his likeness so

Where reason may feast, souls, commingling, may meet, much resembles that of Menander. If you put these sta

But echoes the silvery tones of thy voice,

That thrills o'er my bosom in melody sweet,

Mid the billowy verdure of prairies unpath'd
The Father of waters, outspreading his arms,
Tatinged by the turbid Missouri, portrays

The depth of thy love and thy freshness of charms.

And lo! 'neath the pine of Vermont springs a twig,
A bud may be found on the bright orange-tree,
Mississippi a miniature views in the rill,-
So in Ada a transcript of Mary, I see.

Dost wonder then, dearest, I ne'er can forget,
Though far from my loved ones I drearily roam?-
That surrounded by objects that image them both,
I often should sigh for the pleasures of home?
Forsyth, Georgia, April 1, 1840.

CANOVA.

[Translated from the Italian, by M. Morgan, M. D. Surgeon U.S. Navy, for the Southern Literary Messenger.]

CANOVA'S DEFENCE OF SOME OF HIS WORKS AND HIS

CRITICISMS AND OPINIONS OF THEM.

tues side by side, you see the difference. My Persene likewise, without the Apollo along side of it, would be taken for the same action; but confronting them, dissipates this imaginary likeness in the whole and in the parts. It will appear also easy, to find among medals an action or attitude resembling that of Napoleon, but I do aver, that I never saw one previous to having modelled it, and that it is neither an imitation nor a copy, and if I have followed the example of the ancients in it, I felicitate myself on the circumstance.

[ocr errors]

The statues of the ancient divinities, as Apollo, Pallas, Diana and others, record nearly the same action and position, especially that of Venus when sitting or standing. There is always a conformity of attitude or movement, observed, from which may be inferred the perfection of simple and natural action, and chiefly in the marked and standing figures, where we find but few which possess too animated or violent attitudes. Of these, one could easily invent enough without ever being accused of plagiarism. Thus the ancients seldom indulged in exaggerated and violent action, but they always kept in view the simple and noble, and yet the difference in their works was always essential and of first importance. The Mercury and Antinoo of Belvidere, have much of Meleager, but have no likeness either in character or style.

certain presentiment, should fall naturally on the attitude "It would seem very improbable that an artist, without a of the Gladiator Borghese, it being difficult to arrive at an When the Academy of Archæology was established at action imposed by a particular theme, much less by one of Reme, many learned men, both in letters and antiquities, so great difficulty. And here, I wish to observe, said the with generous emulation, produced their writings, discove- artist, that our art in this aspect is not so rich, as is genenes and opinions, and much discussion arose on the subject rally supposed. It is not permitted to expatiate or indulge of the ancient Greek and Roman statues as compared with the fancy in actions of repose, where every little liberty the modern, among those most conversant with the subject. taken with the art leads to affectation and mannerism. As envy has always contaminated the world, some were My kneeling Magdalen has been praised by some to the found base enough to commit an outrage even on the skies; I smile at these encomiums, and know that I have liberal arts, not openly in the Academy, but in private cir- done many-very many-things much better. cles-slandering Canova, by attacking him on two points. "Artists have reason to condemn the bending-incliningFirst, for having taken charge of the Museum at Rome, of my group of Love and Psyche reclining; but, it is imwhile the place was subject to the French; and secondly, for proper to judge from this alone of my other labors and Laving usurped a fame superior to his merit, by being a pla- works. They should be examined separately to judge of parist. He remained silent for a good while, but at length could no longer restrain himself, in justice to his art, as well as to the magnanimity and purity of his motives. On the first accusation, he directed his defence to the high personages of the Roman court, in the following words:

"I am conscious of my zeal for the Arts, for Rome, and for the adorable Prince the Pope, who governs it. Who dare contend with me or equal me, in my sentiments in this re

VOL. VI.-42

them impartially. Some, without knowing what they say, talk of a quadrated style, and with so much minuteness that I confess I cannot understand them. I wish to understand nature well, which seems to me not to quadrate with these opinions, nor did the ancients view it differently, for they have truly finished their works, and not left them in rough models, that they may serve for occasional effect in one point of view suited to the situation in which they are

placed. These are mysteries which I cannot penetrate, and has given us a history of them. There were twenty-four are open only to scholars.

Victories, in the act of dancing, distributed at the foot of
the chair. Then as many Sphynxes, who carry away the
Theban children. Then the family of Niobe, punished by
Apollo. Then eight statues set round from one foot to the

larger than life, to be in adaptation and agreement with the Colossus.

"Some have found my Group of Theseus, as well as that of Hercules, too animated. But what would they have said if I had composed any thing like the ancient Group of the Wrestlers at Florence ?-and the Laocoon? and the Fight-other, all works from the same hand, and which had to be ing Gladiator?-and the Group of Aria and Pætus?—I say composed-and I would also add the Group of the Faun with the Hermaphrodite, and the Farnesian Bull, and those "What shall I say of the Pallas, of twenty-six cubits, with subjects where the eyes are put out and the arms are bitten. grand and beautiful accessories-a Victory of four cubits A new severity now is required, and they would be in every in the hand,—the shield finished within and without, repre thing austere. But for mercy sake preserve Venus-the Tor-senting a battle with the Amazons-of the gods and the so-the Satyr of Praxiteles-and the Cupid with the Bow.giants,-of the Centaurs and the Lapithæ, and of the geneThey are still, surely, miracles of sculpture in the softness, delicacy and perfection of the design and execution.

"I confess my Pugilists are not my best works, but I wish to see some of our artists finish the extremities in this manner, and I am pleased that the Academy have taken them for an example.

So.

ration of Pandora, with thirty divinities on the base? And what shall we say of the still more numerous works of Lysippus?-Among these may be enumerated models of vases, cups of sacrifice, and urns. It seems most extraordinary to think of the number given by Pliny, as six hundred and ten of one, and fifteen hundred of the other. Among these were many colossal statues-that of Tarantus, forty eulats high, which alone would have been sufficient to have em

"The painters also referred to in history, are as famous for their facility and their numerous works. Witness Michael Angelo and Raphael among the moderns-these sublime geniuses were as ready with their hands, as with their minds. The first, so great in the Arts, finished in two years the vast vault of the chapel of Sistina, such was the power of that incomparable and brilliant genius. At the number, extent and perfection of the works of Raphael, we are still more surprised when we consider his short life. A single bead only, or the mere outlines of a single work of either, would afford matter for long study to one of our greatest geniuses, and excite the noble emulation of modern artists. We can scarcely conceive, how these great men could unite such unexampled facility, to such profound perfection, which are still attempted in vain to be equalled.

"The head of the Genius of Rezzonico, I think does me honor, and not many heads do this for their authors. I am very far from being a Cicerone, but yet I should again beployed the studies during life of one of our modern artists. tempted to imitate this, without making my apology for doing But I am persuaded that an Artist ought not to boast of the number of his works, but of the perfection of a few. "I have been blamed for undertaking too much, and before finishing one thing beginning another, running, as is supposed, the risk of not completing all well in the end. It is true that it is necessary to put limits to our labors, and to lay aside the chissel and rasp sometimes, for fear of losing all in the desire to do too much; but often things are not contemplated in their true light. The riches of genius are a great gift. I think that certain free and skilful strokes of the hand, are worth more than a scrupulous and timid diligence which is injurious generally to every art, and which never produces a work of spirit. Whatever is under the eyes and in the hands for years, becomes a distraction of enthusiasm, which languishes with time. The modest graces delight to wander and to be gathered by the Artist privately, and by surprise, and the public approves more of those works which show light and easy faults in the Artist, than of others which cost the sweat of death. This I see in my own works, for I know those generally please most, which came from my hand spontaneously, and it seems to me for this reason, that I studied them more profoundly, before executing them under the most favorable aspect.

"But these considerations lead me from my road, and 1 must confess that I am not so tenacious of my own judg ment and opinion, as to deter me from expressing eternal obligations and gratitude to those who give me good counsel and advice."

HIS THOUGHTS ON THE ARTS.

After a view of some of his remarks on his works, we regret that we cannot give all his observations and reflections on the ancient works of Art; but we shall here present some of his opinions, which have been carefully col

"When one knows well, and has a clear perception of what he wishes to do, the execution should not cost much effort, and I say this, because I am hasty at work and in-lected. To give principles in a science, or art, it is not clined to be impetuous; and it appears to me that to execute well, an Artist should not lose himself in subtleties and pedantry. The same holds of literary productions. The touching and pathetic scenes which excite most applause, are those which flow spontaneously from the muse, with an inspired eloquence. I know that Zeuxis, according to Plutarch, boasted of a certain decision, by which his pictures were pronounced more perfect and to acquire by age greater beauty, when opposed to the frankness and celerity of Agatarcus; but I also know, that the same judicious writer made a contrary decision, when he exalted the facility of works of art and letters, by which the Painter Necomacus, and the Poet Homer so much superior, so greatly surpassed in merit and fame, Dionysius and Antimachus.

"Nor can one think differently who is acquainted with the wonderful fecundity of almost all the celebrated Greek masters. Phidias for example, the father of the grand style, among the innumerable works he finished with his own hand, made the most famous colossal statue of Olympian Jove in ivory and gold, sixty cubits high, sitting on a throne set round with so many statues and bas reliefs, that Pausanias

sufficient to have a vast store of various erudition, nor the ornament of flowery rhetoric; as these are the result of experience, and acquirement, in their peculiar province. Hence, none can know an Art profoundly unless he has practised it with success. Without this high merit, he cannot be master of it. Thus we constantly see good eritics, respectable for the immensity of their venerable learning, committing errors in the application of precepts and maxims, in those Arts which they have not learned by practical experience, but the knowledge of which they have acquired entirely by speculative study. Lucian says in his book on baths, that if a patient is wise he will often consult these who are employed in preparing them, for they are mostly best qualified to give advice concerning them. And that be who sings and plays on musical instruments, is a better mysician than he who merely distinguishes numbers and barmony; not to mention generals, who are always thought to be best when they defeat and conquer their enemies by their own hands, instead of showing how it is to be done, by words alone.

There was good reason therefore, for confiding in the

« PreviousContinue »