plainly alluding to Jonson's practice of transcribing their works into his scenes. If Mr. Malone be right in his conjecture, it would totally militate against the opinion of our author's want of learning; for I humbly conceive that "old books," in the age of Elizabeth, might allude quite as probably to antient classics, as to publications in our native tongue; and more especially, if Jonson's censure were meant for Dekker. An author may frequently choose rather to sin against his knowledge, than to display it. If any one were to inform me that Shakspeare was unacquainted with Livy, because Menenius Agrippa,t who related the cele brated apologue to suppress a popular commotion, is said by the Roman author, to have died the same year that Marcius signalized himself at Corioli, whereas Shakspeare continues his life to the conclusion of his drama, it might be readily answered, that he preferred scenic effect to chronology, and that such a character as Menenius is cheaply acquired in the sacrifice. By the belief of Shakspeare's possessing sufficient erudition to obviate this imaginary freedom from imitations in every case, his reputation will be incomparably less injured than in the defence of the theory, which makes him the author, in toto, of the worst pieces in his collection: their disparity is only to be accounted for, by the disadvantage which his genius sustained, in repairing the productions of inferior talent. The accusation of malice wherewith Ben Jonson has been charged, and on which the tradition of ignorance was grounded, having now vanished, I proceed a step farther, and think that he has plainly eulogised his abilities elsewhere, than in the commendatory verses to his memory. "That which he hath writ Is with such judgment labour'd and distill'd These words are so excellently ap plicable to the writings of Shakspeare, that it may be at least assumed as a probable compliment from Jonson to his "beloved," before the song of the "Sweet Swan of Avon" was silenced in death. In The Poetaster, it is admitted that Crispinus represents Dekker; but there is another remarkable personage, the poet Virgil; in praise of whom Jonson says :- I cannot better conclude, than with so gratifying a prospect in honour of our illustrious dramatist; and have but a few words to add. It can scarcely be necessary to state, that every thing which may have been quoted for the purpose of illustration," is by no means critically approved; and this remark will glance with peculiar propriety on a fugitive tract, concerning Warton's history of English Poetry; for the present writer would indeed regret, were he supposed to view with complacency the insolent and brutal spirit that pervades it. The name of its reputed author is, however, not unknown. Such is the multiplicity of notes that have been offered for the explanation of Shakspeare, that he who undertakes still farther to elucidate him, will be often compelled to erase his own remarks, or to insert others, in deference to the anticipation of some previous annotator. This task is by no means enviable; but I am not aware that any of the foregoing observations have appeared, having undergone considerable trouble to prevent the occurrence or appropriation of the thoughts of other persons. Conciseness has however been studied as a desirable object; and my comments may therefore be found, on some occasions, to involve a silent allusion to 'opinions already published. Jan. 1809. τηλευθυΣ. Dr. JOHNSON and the METAPHYSICAL Livy, Lib. 2. Sec. 33. If this ob- Jfor his ingenious definition of jection has been ever employed, I know not; but it would be as reasonable as some that have appeared, the poems of Cowley, Donne, Suckling, &c. which he termed metaphy sical: but praise undeserved is languid smile of welcome he stretched scandal in disguise," and let me there- his hand towards me. I took hold fore snatch a borrowed plume from of it, and found there a clammy moisthis literary glory. Dryden, in his ness, which tended to encrease my preface to the translation of Juvenal, apprehensions. I ventured to express after lavishing the most abject flattery my fears that he had experienced on the Earl of Dorset and his poems, some alteration. thus proceeds, "Yes," said he, "I now begin to see the bourne. We shall set together," added he, pointing to the sun; my hours are now numbered, and I shall soon be laid at rest.” "Na "I trust not," I replied. ture may yet do much: this change perhaps may only be an effort to expel the malady, and she will rise from this depression only with increased vigour." "You equal Donne in the variety, multiplicity, and choice of thoughts; you excel him in the manner and the words. I read you both with the same admiration, but not with the same delight. He affects the metaphysicks not only in his satires but in his amorous verses, where nature only should reign; and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with nice speculations of philosophy, when he should I do not even wish it," said engage their hearts and entertain Montalbert ; "and yet," continued them with the softnesses of love. In he hesitatingly, "a longer life might this, if I may be pardoned for a bold be well employed in expiation." truth, Mr. Cowley has copied him to As he uttered these words he be a fault; so great a one in my opinion, carne a little agitated: he looked tothat it throws his Mistress infinitely wards me with an enquiring glancebelow his Pindarics and his latter then at his son-then at me againcompositions, which are undoubted- and sighed heavily. After a pause ly the best of his poems and the most of a few moments he pressed my hand strongly, and murmured in a sort of whisper, "scorn has no empire beyond the grave." correct." The great merit of originality must therefore be taken from Johnson, and he must be content to retain that which is derived from a more luminous amplification of the thoughts of Dryden. I remain, Sir, yours, &c. MONTALBERT: A FRAGMENT. I heard these words with anxiety: they were ambiguous: they were attended with emotion on the part of Montalbert, and they seemed capable of eventful construction. I was unable to reply, for in fact I knew not their meaning: Montalbert did not seem to notice my embarrassment, but continued to speak: "The arrow that may pierce our own heart, 'twere folly to put in the Next day I visited hands of any created being. Misagain my venerable friend. He was placed confidence is a two edged still in bed, and during the night his weapon, which wounds the giver and disorder had reached a crisis which the receiver: but when he that gives took an unfavourable turn. When the sword is about to depart from I entered I was struck with the the sphere of its destruction, he takes alarming alteration which appeared from it its greatest force, and leaves in his countenance. Deal was it but a pointless instrument in the marked in every lineament. His hands of him who takes it. Though eyes had a sort of rayless glare, which I unsheath the steel, yet shall its seemed to indicate that nature was wasting fury disturb not one moment hastening to a close. He was more of my repose." feeble than when I saw him last, and a torpid lethargy seemed to possess his whole frame. Yet, at my approach, he made an effort to assume Somewhat of animation, and with a I looked steadily at Montalbert: there was a peculiar sort of expression upon his countenance, not pleasing but striking: it was a mixture of exultation, fear, reproach, and are stronger and can more easily pierce the veil which habit sometimes throws over our actions. In that temple I feel I may repose my sorrows.' doubt his eyes had lost their glare: fines of the grave, my perceptions they sparkled with momentary fire, and lent a transitory animation to his whole face. But it was the hectic flush of an instant, and was succeeded by a death-like paleness, and more than ordinary dullness of vision. I For the first time a thought glanced was perplexed in the extreme: I saw across my mind to what all this tendthese varying emotions, but knew ed. I guessed that he had some senot their cause: I watched their pro- cret to communicate; some fears and gress, but knew not their object: all anxieties perhaps to express, relative to me was dark and inexplicable, and to the future welfare of his son; some the delicacy of my own situation, as revelation of past events intimately well as the melancholy one of Mont- connected with his destination in life; albert, seemed to forbid any rash or or perhaps some distresses to impart, premature interrogatories. In this whose recollection now weighed upon state of dubitey and suspense, I still his soul and depressed its aspiring continued to hold his hand, and gaze flight. These thoughts succeeded upon him with earnestness, when he each other with the rapidity of lightcontinued to speak, and, as before, ning in my mind, and diffused over it without adverting to my embarrass- a sentiment of peace, from the consciousness that I might be able to administer to the comfort of his last moments. I instantly replied: ment. "I lay claim to no virtue beyond the character of my species: the spark that animates my bosom glows, I am persuaded, as intensely in the hearts of thousands, and I even hope more intensely, for in myself I often find it obscured by passion, and often repressed by the dictates of a sordid feeling. Yet, as I know myself, I dare assert a steady, honourable, and independent mind; a mind which zealously nurtures the most amiable principles of our nature, and strives to give them efficacy in the narrow sphere of active benevolence to which I am restricted. If to such a mind you can commit any affliction which now harasses you, any anticipating fear of the future with regard to that youth" "Yet even in the most depraved hearts so poor a malice hardly can reside, as to spend its shafts upon the idle air. Such villainy would want the covering, the flimsy covering, needful even to itself to hide its own deformity; and would recoil upon its possessor the gnawing pains of disappointed envy. In the cunning machinations of the world, we love to see the object writhe in agony before our eyes; we love to rankle the ulcerous wound, and glut our eyes with luxury of woe. It is only the half-faced villains of society, who shoot their bolts with the random hand of wanton malice; the rancorous cowards of the world who love to spit abroad their deadly venom in darkness, heedless where it strikes. And yet he paused-he withdrew his hand from mine-he passed it twice or thrice across his brow, as if meditating--he fixed his hollow languid eyes upon me with a steady look, as though he would dive into my very soul--and he appeared troubled: but at that instant à benevolent smile succeeded, and he exclaimed,- "In my power it is," added Į, "Yes! my young friend, in thy "to give him the protection of a faheart virtue is throned as in her tem- ther, if not the love, for who can ple; she is shrouded there in the se- teach his heart a father's feelings crecy and solitude to which you have when not awakened by a father's chacondemned her, prompt however at racter? Yet I can do much. Provievery call, and quick to obey your dence has given me wealth beyond, summons. I traced her hand in our far beyond my own necessities; and first meeting, and I traced it with I should wrong the sentiments of my accuracy; for approaching to the con- heart, as well the dictates of my rea a "Ah!" interrupted Montalbert, "when I look that way I am overwhelmed with anguish. My poor, friendless child, who shall shield you in protecting arms when thou hast committed my body to the grave?" son, did I regard that wealth in any to me: for that I was grateful, and other light than as a deposit, and a loved you: but that was an action sacred, very sacred deposit, bestowed which I know every man in a similar upon me by the Great Creator to imi- situation would have done, and though tate his goodness by relieving those this ought not to diminish our gratiwho sorrow and pine in the dark tude towards him who does save us, abodes of poverty and want. I pledge yet the act wants that indefinable myself, my valued friend, here by charm, that universal character which the solemn adjuration of my God, fills the hearts of all who behold the that if it please Him to take you to exercise of more exalted virtue. The himself, to receive your Henry as my infrequency of great and generous own, to cherish him as my child, to actions makes us believe them not to provide for his future welfare, and to be within the reach of every one; to place him in this world beyond the suppose that they demand some pereach of distress and penury." culiarity of soul, touched with a more Oh that I held a poet's pen, to etherial fire, or informed by a more paint Montalbert as he lay, while I genial stream of living feeling; and uttered these concluding words. His endowed with a loftier tone of feeble frame admitted not the clamo- thought. Hence, when a character rous exclamations of gratitude, the of this stamp comes into play before ardent, vigorous, embraces of an us, we are accustomed to regard it as awakened heart. In him all was si- something more than mortal; to lent; but solemn, impressive, and open our hearts to feelings of a more sincere. His soul, his grateful and generous impression; to placé no adoring soul moved upon his lips; bounds to them; and even to proffer grateful to me; adoring to his Crea- a sort of adoration. Nor do I think for. What he felt was too big for this otherwise than just: surely the utterance, and seemingly absorbed in character, by which we approach the inward contemplation of the nearest to the image of that Deity workings of his mind, he continued who is all perfection, ought to obtain silent and motionless: peace settled the strongest possible expression of on his countenance: parental love our love and admiration. Be not mingled with its beams, and produced therefore offended, my young friend, a mixture of composure and emotion: if I value too highly (in your estimaseeming half to doubt the possibility tion, for modesty is the grace of virof what I had said, he turned towards tue) your generous conduct towards me an enquiring eye, but which in- me and my before helpless child.stantly shot forth conviction. Then Cætera Desunt. he drew young Henry towards him, who stood on the other side of the bed, threw his arms round his neck, hid his venerable face in the bosom On of his son, and, bursting into a flood of tears, could only utter,. -"My child! my child! I die in peace!"After this violent emotion had sub- WHOEVER has read the criti sided, he disengaged himself, and, placing the hand of Henry in mine, exclaimed,- "Reverence him, I charge thee, as your father: love him as your protector and as your deliverer." The youth was sensibly moved by this pathetic scene, and wept a plentiful effusion of tears, while he pressed my hand to his lips with ardour. Montalbert now addressed himself to me. Jan. 5, 1809. W. the CRITICAL DEFICIENCY of SIR, DAVID HUME. cal strictures of Hume, upon the literature of England, in his history, must have felt convinced that the sagacity and penetration of an historian may exist without the sympathetic feeling of a judicious critic. His estimation of Shakspeare would have done credit to a French critic, who, unacquainted with the English language, knew nothing of the fervid inspiration of Shakspeare, but judged his sentences by the torpid criterion of rules. "You first rescued my child from These, however, are not the only the perils of death, and restored him instances which Hume has given of his sickly, enervated judgment in tails respecting the conquest and pos literature, and of his puerile prefer- session of Brazil by the Dutch, in the ence of polish and refinement to the seventeenth century, with some parvigorous roughness of nature and ge- ticulars as to the present state of the nius. In his Essays, he says," it is country, will not be unacceptable to sufficient to run over Cowley once. the public. but Parnell, after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh as at the first." It would be difficult, I believe, to discover the cause of this preference. It must be allowed, indeed, that the harmony of Parnell's numbers, though not very transcendant, is yet sometimes superior to Cowley's; but the mere jingle of words is but a poor recompence for the want of that acuteness of remark, that nice discrimination, and that splendour of imagery, which every careful reader may discover in Cowley. The poetry of Parnell is tame and languid; it has neither brilliancy of wit, nor vigour of thought; and still less has it any of those powerful charms which surely must exist to induce a fiftieth reading. The works of Cowley are, in every respect, but metre, infinitely superior; and the most sage moralist may be content to learn something new from them. The vigour of his intellect enabled him to throw forth thoughts useful, new, or amusing; and I never rise from a perusal of him but with a greater desire to return. He probably disdained the inferior merit of a smooth versifier, and sought rather to instruct than to please; and if his poems are less read than those of Parnell's, it is because he is little congenial to a frivolous taste, which cannot submit to the labour of extracting his gold from amidst some dross and rubbish. Richmond, Jan. 14, 1809. I remain, &c. It was in the year 1621, that the States General of the United Provinces granted a charter to a company of merchants under the designation of the West-India Company; in whom an exclusive right of trade was vested, along the coast of Africa, from the Tropic of Cancer to the Cape of Good Hope, and in North and South America, and the West-India islands, the latter being denominated in their charter," the islands between the North and the South Seas." Their charter comprised full authority to erect forts and castles, to establish colonies, and to enter into treaties of alliance with the natives. The company were in the commencement rapidly prosperous; and the war then raging between the Dutch and Spaniards, at that time masters of Portugal, gave them opportunities, not only of capturing a very considerable number of Spanish and Portuguese prizes, the value of which amounted, between the years 1623 and 1636, to ninety millions of guilders (about 8,200,000l.), but also of making many considerable and valuable conquests, both in Africa and America. The first expedition, which is deserving of particular attention, took place in the year 1623. It consisted of twenty-six vessels of various sizes; all well manned, and equipped with the means of offensive warfare.— Jacob Willekens, of Amsterdam, was appointed to the chief naval command, and the celebrated Peter Peterson Hein was his vice-admiral. Van Doeth, Lord of Horst and Pesh, commanded the land forces. Their place of destiSome PARTICULARS relative to the nation was Bahia de Todos los Sanctos, CONQUEST and POSSESSION of or All-Saints - Bay, now generally BRAZIL by the DUTCH, in the called Bahia, or the Bay in Brazil; ·Seventeenth Century. and the object they had in view was FROM the present political cir- two-fold; that of obtaining possession cumstances relative to the Brazils, of a secure post, whence other settleand the interest naturally excited by ments might be attacked; and that the transfer to that country of the of acquiring the controul of the trade Portuguese government, and its novel in sugar and Brazil wood, from which commercial and political relations the Dutch promised themselves great with Great Britain, the following de- advantages. UNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. XI. E |