« 이전계속 »
PHENOMENON IN NATURAL HISTORY. by them. Suppose, however, they
had borne the name of Christians; The following singular fact in natural what then? Is one man justifiable in history, is recorded in a letter written his conduct, merely because another by Dr. Buchanan to his friend Mr. has acted so before him? We have Brown, in Calcutta. It is dated not to do with others, but we are alone “ Borders of Travancore, 18th of amenable to God for our own conduct; October, 1806.”
and if dancing be justifiable, because “ Tell H. who gets all my natural Greeks and Romans danced, I scruhistory and political remarks, that I ple not to affirm, that the assassinawrite this at the bottom of the lofty tion of Mr. Perceval, and the conspimountain called Cape Comorin, whose racy of Cato-street, were proper, berocky head seems to overhang its cause Pausanias killed Philip of Ma. base. The birds which build the pen-cedon, and because Brutus murdered dulous nests, are here numerous. At Julius Cæsar. night each of their little habitations is “If we refer to yet more early lighted up, as if to see company. The ages,” says Phi, “still we shall find sagacious bird fastens a bit of clay to it to be the happy pastime of nature, the top of the nest, and then picks up and the universal celebration of festia fire-fly, and sticks it on the clay, to vity.” This, however, remains to be illuminate the dwelling, which con- proved : That it is so now, may be sists of two rooms. Sometimes there inferred from the conduct of savages, are three or four flies, and their blaze who dance round the fire, that preof light in the little cell dazzles the pares the mangled limbs of their feleyes of the bats, which often kill the low-creatures, for their inhuman reyoung of these birds."
past; here, indeed, it is the happy pastime of nature, and the universal celebration of festivity. All heathens,
however, are not defenders of danCATED."
cing, though many who call themselves
CHRISTIANS are its advocates. (Continued from col. 169.)
“It is well known,” says Forbes,
in his Oriental Memoirs, “that the Phi next proceeds to remark, “In Asiatics of any respectability, of eithe most civilized eras of Greece and ther sex, never dance themselves. Rome, we find it was a favourite Throughout Hindoostan, the master amusement with the chief ranks of of a feast sends for the public dancing society: kings, heroes, and unbearded girls and musicians, to entertain his youths, together with queens and guests. An Indian of respectability stately virgins, alike mingled in this could never consent to his wife dangraceful recreation.” Phi, however, cing in public, nor can they reconcile will have the goodness to inform my the English country-dances, to their ignorance, as I am not aware of any ideas of female delicacy. I remember kings or queens, that mingled together an amiable Hindoo at Bombay being in the dance; for as far as my know- taken to a veranda overlooking the ledge goes, I can affirm that for many assembly room, where a number of ages in Rome, males and females ladies and gentlemen were going down were unaccastomed to mingle together a country-dance; on his conductor in the dance, and such conduct as Phi | asking him how he liked the amuseimputes to the Roman ladies, would ment? he replied, “Master, I not quite immediately have given them the understand this business, but in our caste name of prostitutes. In ancient we say, If we place butter too near the Greece, likewise, the same custom fire, butier will melt. I have often was observed. But even allowing for thought of this Hindoo,” continues the sake of argument, that they were hc, “when present at some particular accustomed to mingle together in the waltzing in France and Germany." dance; are they to be our models? Phi next brings scripture to his men who considered their gods with assistance. Before, however, the out natural affection, cannibals, adul- dancing-master can gain any advanterers, and murderers! I need not tage by his quotation from the Bible, certainly endeavour to prove, that we (which, by the bye, ought not to be so should not be guided in our conduct prostituted,) it will be necessary for No. 38,-Vol. IV.
him to prove, that his dancing is of Telamon, he has been letting fly his precisely the same description as that puny artillery against a foe, that will, mentioned there, and that he trains it is to be hoped, make ample repriup his pupils, merely for the purpose sals to his petty shafts. It is also deof praising the Lord in the dance. sirable, that PHI will say no more There was a sect that sprang up in about ordinary attainments. Flanders, about the year 1373, who Speaking, however, of this person were called dancers, because they who cannot dance, has put me in mind adopted this mode of worship, and of a story related by some ingenious danced together with such zeal, that author. There was, says he, a nation they frequently fell down senseless, in of humpbacked men: On one occaconsequence of their violent exertions. sion, while they were at church, a Don't laugh, Phi, these were the true person came in with a straight back, Dili opxnows, these were professors which so moved their feelings of risiof your favourite science. Why do bility, that neither could the clergyyou not follow their example ? Believe man proceed, nor could bis audience me, you would then make yourself pay any attention to him ; in short, more famous than you ever will in the story informs us, that they laughyour present sphere of action. We, ed incessantly for some time afterhowever, are not called upon in the wards. In just such a situation, gospel to worship in this manner, for would a person be in a dancing assenthe only places in the New Testament, bly, who could not dance himself; but where dancing is mentioned, are no one will say that he merits ridicule, Luke xy. 25, where Le Clerc says the nor will any one say that it is desirable word means a choir of singers, and to have a humpback, because this not dancers; and Mark vi. 22, in nation laughed at a straight back, a which case the dance was paid for thing that they had never seen before. with the head of a good man, ver. 16
Phi next advises Mr. W. to become -29. If Phi, however, must dance, a spectator of one of those private I should think it but proper, that he circles, where dancing is the amusego to Jerusalem once a year, and offer ment of the evening, i, e. to render all the sacrifices, &c. which are com- himself ridiculous, and to be regarded manded in the book of Leviticus; in as a man of very ordinary attainments. which case, Mr. Editor, I think he For shame, Phi, because you perceive may dance occasionally, especially your inferiority in the ground which as it is the custom of some in this Mr. W. has chosen, you
wish to bring country.
him to your own sphere, and then you Phi next speaks of the ridiculous would crow, as another cock of the figure, which a person makes who dunghill might. Mr. W. however, cannot dance, where dancing is the shines in a hemisphere far superior to amusement of the evening, and tells a dancing assembly, for us a very pretty story about some
« Tis the mind that makes the man." young gentleman, apparently just escaped from the birch and Propriu And though advised to become a quæ maribus, who was not more con- SPECTATOR, if he still act as a GUARversant with the Bible than himself, DIAN, he may ensure a more cordial and who reluctantly was obliged to reception with men of sense, than confess his ignorance on the subject, Phi ever will, notwithstanding his by being dragged into a theological wonderful talent of poetising in prose, dispute. Poor fellow! “He skulked fiddling out of tune, or teaching young into a corner,” says Phi in his usu- ladies and gentlemen the very rational ally elegant style. Our dancing-mas- accomplishment of dancing. ter, however, is not so wise; he stands After this, Phi brings out one of forth, and endeavours to puff off his those pretty little pieces of oratory, erudition ; and, if I mistake not, he so characteristic of one, who had will some day meet with such a drub- made the business of life the study of bing, as will make him hold his an amusement. The sentence bears peace. He thought, I suppose, that considerable resemblance to my ideas under his classical mask, he should of Robinson Crusoe's boat, when it pass without recognition from any had become old, i. e. awkward, crazy, one; and, like little Teucer in the and rotten. He, (Mr. W.) will Iliad, who got behind the shield of ! Sind,” says Phi, “every countenance
cheerful.” A great recommendation Mr. Burchell, however, truly! So he will at the aleḥouse; who hard-hearted, as, during the reading so cheerful as men sitting with pots of the whole of this paragraph, though and pipes, drinking destruction to I exhausted my best tones upon it, to themselves, and calling down the ven- cry, Fudge.-If Mr.W. however,allows geance of heaven on each other? But the innocency and rationality of danis this any recommendation of their cing, it is more than I shall. As to its conduct? " He will see,” continues innocence, I will speak in the sequel.
every eye sparkling with glad- Where, however, is its rationality ? ness, and every cheek dimpled with a Does it regulate the desires ? Does it smile, he will behold the perfection of strengthen the judgment? Does it personal proportion, his attention will assist the understanding? Does it be arrested, (to consider very proba- enlighten the mind ? Does it afford bly the folly and wickedness of thus useful information? Does it amend spending time,) his heart will be soft- the heart? No, but it imparts vigour ened, and, with a pleasure communi- and strength to the bodily organs. cated by sympathy, he cannot but Fudge. It constitutes a very promiacknowledge, that dancing is one of nent feature in domestic happiness. the most innocent and rational, as Fudge.- We are authorized to pracwell as the most elegant amusements tise it, because the Romans and of youth.”
Greeks practised it. Fudge.--It is Mr. W. however, sees and endea- sanctioned by the scriptures. Fudge. vours to prevent the follies of his fel- | -It may, notwithstanding be rational low-creatures. Is he then hard-heart-enough for Phi, for “skulls that caned? With a pleasure communicated not teach and will not learn,” may be by sympathy, he cannot but acknow- said to be beyond cure; and as Phi's ledge, that dancing is innocent and head has all the appearances connectrational! most innocent! superlatively ed with such circumstances, he may rational! The whole sentence, how- be judicious, to make his heels serve ever, is somewhat past the compre- his turn as much as possible. Phi hension of my poor brain. It certain closes his exquisite performance by a ly is not an agreeable thing to retract quotation from Dr. Watts, with whom a positive assertion, and how sympa-I must beg to differ in two or three thy can render this so delightful, I am particulars. Once he conceived himat a loss to ascertain : “ he cannot but self a teapot. This idea was certainly acknowledge,” says Phi. Our dan- not correct; and an error of equal cing-master is quite wonderful in all magnitude, in my opinion, is, that his operations. I am highly honoured dancing is profitable to many good by such an antagonist. Mr. W. term- / purposes. ed dancing a little while ago, a cursed (To be concluded in our next.) system, and, if my memory do not fail me, expressed a preference to have his child maimed, rather than she
POETRY. should practise it. These are somewhat decided expressions; yet not-Sir,-Should you deem the following encomi
MR. EDITOR. withstanding all this, Phi engages in ums on the happy invention of Writing, and a single evening, not only that he shall on the invaluable art of Printing,suitable for the retract his sentiments, but that he poetical department of your Magazine, I shall shall be compelled, (mark the express is from the pen of a lady, and transcribed from
be glad in seeing them inserted. The former sion,) compelled to acknowledge that
a valuable work now before me; the latter dancing is innocent, most innocent, from Ralph's Collection of Miscellaneous and most RATIONAL. And what would Poems. compel him ? Oh, Phi will tell you
I am, Sir, your's, respectfully, directly. The cheerfulness of coun
D. P ** E. tenances, the sparkling of eyes, the
London, 1st January, 1822. dimples of faces, the hilarity of steps, ENCOMIUM ON THE INVENTION OF WRITING. the perfection of proportion, the arrest of bis attention, the softening, of his BLEST be the man! his memory at least, heart, and the communication of Who found the art thus to unfold bis breast, pleasure. What a hodgc-podge! Go And taught succeeding times an easy way, on, Phi. Munchausen was but a bun- To baffle absence, and secure delight,
Their secret thoughts hy letters to convey; gler to you.
Which till that time was limited to sight.
The parting farewell spoke the last adieu,. Swift o'er the world learn'd volumes were
Divine Æneids each museum grace,
While Plato's works assume a Scorus' place.
Each needy student shews his classic store, When for a wife the youthful patriarch sent, And boasts such treasures, kings scarce knew The camels, jewels, and the steward went,
before. And wealthy equipage, tho' grave and slow, But not a line that might the lover show. Hail, Printing, hail, thou thrice illustrious art, The ring and bracelets woo'd her hands and Which clear'd the head, and which reformid arms;
the heart, Bat had she known of melting words and Bless'd with new light a superstitions age, charms,
And purg'd the relics of barbaric rage. That under secret seals in ambush lie,
From thee celestial streams of learning flow, To catch the soul, when drawn into the eye,
And to thy pow'r we pure religion owe;
While off their rev'rend mask ERASMUS drew,
The labour finish'd by thy friendly aid,
Which Huss and WICKLIFF long in vain esLONG had mankind with darkness been oppress’d,
But see, ye learn'd, from far a genial ray, And scarce one patriarch nine whole centuries
Dawn in the East, and promise rising day; bless'd;
See distant climes in this auspicious hour, The conqaer'd world, and e'en imperial Rome, Receive with transport learning's sov'reign O’erwhelm'd in ignorance, shar'd an equal
Behold this art in fam'd Byzantium* rise, Vandals and Monks, inflam'd with impious rage, And barb'rous Sultans bail the mighty prize. Drove, like a torrent, learning off the stage. High it advances o'er the Mufti's rage, To native skies Religion slighted fled, Though priests the ruin of their craft presage. And beav'nly science veil'd her blissful head. Mysterious jargon then devotion seem’d, 0! would indulgent heav'n by this restore Greek, pious idiots, heresy esteem’d.
To Eastern lands the arts they lost before, Yet Latin oft was read, not understood,
By this make Turks their native rage forego, For none but pray’rs in sounds unknown were
And the vile frauds of MECCA's prophet shew, good.
While Asia's realms enjoy a'milder doom, When some kind pow'r, (who now propitious While Greece its Athens boasts, and Thrace a smiles,
second Rome,t With sweet indulgence o'er BRITANNIA's O'er distant worlds while truth and freedom isles,)
shine, Expelld around the gloomy Gothic night,
And conscious nations bless the art divine ! And cheer'd the world with dawning rays of * Constantinople. light;
+ Constantinople was anciently called New Inspir'd by him, first, Faust's sagacious mind Rome. The great discov'ry open'd to mankind. Rude characters on wooden tablets made, And of the printing art the basis laid. 'Till fulsile types invented by his skill,
SONNET. With numerous tomes th' admiring nations fill. Vast his attempts, immortal is bis fame, Mark'd ye the ruins that old Time has made While Mentz reserves the great auspicious As he has run bis round ?-for splendid
towers In spite of Harlem's or of Strasburg's claim. Where oft dwelt hanghty monarchs, now are
laid Thence was the art translated to our coast, Low as the marble tomb where darkness (Whose gen'rous sons ingenious CAXTON lowers, boast)
Enclosing men who liv'd, and once Improv'd by various hands in ev'er stage,
young; Tilf ALDUS rose the genius of the age.
But Time bas chang’d them; now they lie First by his care, behold learn's Greece arise
among And the thick mists remove from mortal eyes. Their fathers, crumbling in their mother See her fam'd works in native lustre sbine,
earth :--See Athens once again the world refine; Yes, not an object that here has its birth, While pleasing scenes o'er Europe's realms But feels his pow'r, and all must own his appear,
sway : And joys uncommon ev'ry mortal cheer. And though his hours are misemploy'd, they're No more transcribers' negligence is blam'd
gone, For faulty Iliads, or a TULLY maim'd.
And still will go, and nothing stay their No more did HORACE, bard of sprightly fire flight; Mourn ruder hands, or BENTLEY's wit require. Night follows day, and day succeeds to No more the scholar, press’d by adverse tate, night, Procures a Live with his whole estate. And thus the round is run, till years roll on :
But there's an hour will come when Time The clarion voice of chanticleer, shall be
Now vibrates on the slumb'ring ear, No more,-that hour will bring eternity. While fancied terrors, woes, and death, Jan. 1.
M. M. Are breath'd anew at every breath;
Awaking from the casual dream
And meagre forms, and fairy train,
That revell’d through the midnight brain,
Decamp like spectres of the night That hour the beaming god of light
From thee, Twilight. Dawns faintly on the brow of night, And darkness 'gins to waste away,
When angels mission'd from on bigh O’erwhelmed by the solar
To visit Sodom left the sky, And twinkling stars begin to fade,
Enshrin'd their forms in human frame, And Lana withers to a shade,
And lonely wights at Twilight came, And drowsy fogs impend the plains,
Compell’d by generous Lot they stay, And universal stillness reigns,
But only till the dawn of day,
Their awfal embassy fulfil,"
In the Twilight.
The san had sunk beneath the plain, In eastern clime thou first didst rise
Nor left a vestige of his train, In Eden's blooming Paradise.
When Jacob journeying on alone, Ere bird, or beast, or pristine lord,
Met with a trav'ller unknown, Was fashion’d by the eternal word,
So sweet his talk, divine his air, The morning stars in chorus sang,
The patriarch leaves each minor care, And heav'n's expanding arches rang,
Entreats and weeps the night away,
And holds him till the prime of day,
God and Twilight. The weary trav'ler waits thy dawn
Thy sacred beam scarce ting’d the gloom, On barren waste or dewy lawn,
That hover'd round Messiah's tomb, Or lonely glen, or mountain path,
When weeping friends repair'd to prove So oft pursu'd to instant death,
Their last sad offices of love. Intrepid zeal and cheering hope
But, lo! the solid rock was rent, In all his dangers bear him up.
The Roman eagle's strength was spent, Fearless of ill at thy approach,
The pond'rous stone had fled the door, He basteus from his grassy couch,
And Jesus liv'd to die no more ; And steadily pursues his flight,
O'er hell and death he shew'd his might, Like thee, Twilight.
In the Twilight. As thy first ray illames the north,
While oceans roll and rivers run, The wakeful fisher paddles forth,
And blazing orbs wheel round the sun, With pliant rod, and barbed bribes,
And circling fluids freely move,
And youthful hearts beat high in love,
And nature's longing watchful eye
Shall brighten at thy dawn with joy,
And at the fatal, final doom,
E'en time itself shall cease with thee on The sturdy peasant now awakes,
Ingulph'd in vast eternity, To spade the glebe or hew the brakes, Whose dawn on death's long dreary night Or drive abroad his joyful team,
Shall give Twilight. Whose bleat or bellow hails thy beam.
DANIEL MC. AFEE. And sweetly chants his hymn of praise
White-Abbey, Jan. 27th, 1822.
ON A STARLIGHT NIGHT.-BY JOHN GORTON.
What are those glittering gems of light The bounding lion seeks his cave,
That shoot their radiance through the night, To minor beasts a living grave,
Filling the poet's raptur'd eye
As he their countless numbers views,
Void of emotion, who can see,
Whence are their beauties, whence their Thy mingling pity wails their plight,