Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

ported the elements of civilization into Italy. This conjecture is strengthened by a well-known passage in the Æneid:

Silvano fama est veteres sacrasse Pelasgos,

Arvorum pecorisque Deo, lucumque, diemque,
Qui primi fines aliquando habuere Latinos.

We are aware that the authority of Sallust may be adduced to invalidate this inference; but it is not improbable that he applied the term Aborigines to the descendants of the Celtic tribes, who entered Italy by the passes of the Julian and Cottian Alps, and by the course of the Adige, and that he described them as a savage and lawless race, only in comparison with the institutions and refinement of an enlightened and polished age.

CICERO de Republicâ.

There is perhaps no monument of ancient literature the disappearance of which had excited so much regret, as that of Cicero's treatise De Republicâ. Though the earliest, perhaps, of all his philosophical works, it was that upon which he himself set the highest value, and which his contemporaries most admired; it was said to have been written in his happiest style, and to have been the great repository of the political wisdom of the ancients. The splendid fragment (Somnium Scipionis) preserved by Macrobius, together with the quotations interspersed through the works of Lactantius, St. Augustine, and Nonius, served to exasperate the vexation of the learned at a loss which seemed as great as it was irretrievable. A complete copy was extant as late as the 11th century; since which period the literary world have been at different times flattered with the hopes of its recovery, and rumours have been circulated that manuscripts of the work existed in France, Poland, and other countries. It is needless to add, that these rumours turned out to be groundless, and that the hopes they had raised were uniformly disappointed.

Within the last few years, however, a considerable portion of this famous treatise has been recovered by the industry and ingenuity of the Librarian of the Vatican, who effected his object by having recourse to means which his predecessors had never dreamed of. It is well known, that whenever papyrus or parchment were scarce, it was customary to obliterate old, in order to admit fresh, writing; and that parchment or papyrus thus rescribed received, even in the time of Cicero, the name of palimpsest (a má rursum et fáw abstergo.) In the middle ages, when the means of writing were of difficult attainment, and the classics had given place to monkish legends, or the wild fictions of romance, this practice became so frequent, that these rescribed MSS., or palimpsests, were more numerous than parchments from which the original writing had not been discharged. On many palimpsests, however, the process of obliteration had not been so complete, as to render the original writing altogether invisible; on close and continued observation it might not only be discovered, but in many instances read, and the nature and purport of the writing ascertained; this fact, however, was turned to no practical use till Signor Angelo Mai decyphered and published, from palimpsests in the Ambrosian Library, of which he was keeper, the fragments of six inedited orations of Cicero with ancient commentaries. This discovery having attracted very general notice, Signor Mai, promoted, in recompence of his learning and industry, to the superintendence of the Vatican Library, prosecuted, with indefatigable activity, at Rome, those interesting researches which he had so auspiciously commenced at Milan; and it is to this enterprising and learned individual that the world is now indebted for the recovery of about a third part of the most celebrated and popular work of antiquity. The palimpsest from which

It was begun in the month of May in the year of Rome 699, when the author was in the 53d year of his age; but it is not certain when it was finished.

so very considerable a portion of the first three books De Republicâ has been recovered, is arranged in quaternions, amounting, in all, to 302 pages, and is rescribed with part of a Commentary on the Psalms, by St. Augustine, the obliteration and rescription being supposed to have taken place before the tenth century. The characters of the original writing are, of course, only in faint outline, and, from their large square form, are referred by Mai to the sixth century. This palimpsest was found in a most disordered and mutilated condition, and was in some parts easily, and in others with extreme difficulty, decyphered. Moreover, it was full of the most palpable and egregious blunders, which had crept into it from the ignorance of the transcribers, who were generally slaves, and, except the mechanical accomplishment of being able to write, for the most part grossly ignorant. It would hardly be possible to estimate the injury which the Latin authors sustained in consequence of the ignorance and inattention, or, at the best, the caprice of the copyists. Cicero himself, in a letter to his brother Quintus (III. 5.) complains bitterly of this evil: De Latinis libris quo me vertam nescio; ita mendose et scribuntur et veneunt: and if it had become so great as to vitiate the standard works in his time, what irretrievable injury must it not have occasioned in the many ages of darkness, confusion, and barbarism, which followed! Still, however, this palimpsest exhibits undoubted examples of the ancient orthography, well deserving the attention of the etymologist and of the scientific philologist.

Like the greater part of Cicero's philosophical works, the treatise De Republica is in the form of a dialogue, and the interlocutors are Scipio Aemilianus, Laelius, Philus, Manilius, Mummius, Tubero, Rutilius, Scaevola, and Fannius. The object of Cicero, in composing this great and laborious work, as he himself describes it, like that of Polybius in writing his history, appears to have been, to exhibit a view of the different political and moral causes which had secured to the Roman people the empire of the world; and for this purpose, as well as to avoid giving offence, and, if possible, to recommend the stern but lofty severity of ancient manners, on which wealth, luxury, and political profligacy, were daily making sad inroads,he introduced the most distinguished of the Old Republicans, who detail, in a manner highly characteristic and striking, their different sentiments as to the best forms of polity, and particularly whether, in the government of states, justice ought to yield to, and be determined by, expediency. Scipio, #póswñov zónews, after examining in succession the three simple forms of government, pronounces in favour of monarchy, as per se preferable to either of the two other forms separately; but declares, that the best conceivable form of civil polity is that in which the three are so blended and attempered as to act and re-act on one another, and to produce, as it were, a state of equilibrium. And this, he maintains, was the form of the Roman Government after the expulsion of the kings. The arguments in favour of republicanism appear, however, to preponderate, as it was probably the author's intention that they should. In what remains of the third book, Philus undertakes the defence of expediency in government in opposition to justice, and, if we may form an opinion from what remains, appears to content himself with merely repeating the sophisms of Carneades. It is a subject of infinite, and, we fear, now unavailing regret, that the reply of Laelius, pregnant with the mitis sapientia peculiar to his amiable and endearing character, and containing, if we may believe antiquity, the most glorious and triumphant refutation of the machiavelism put in the mouth of Philus, has not been recovered. This was undoubtedly the most eloquent and interesting portion of the work. Cicero never personates the character of that virtuous and enlightened Roman, without rising, as it were, above himself, both in argument and in eloquence.

Scipio, as we have already said, argues in favour of kingly power, as compared with either of the other two simple forms of government. The following argument from analogy, in support of his preference, is interesting in a threefold point of view; first, for the ingenuity, far-fetched though it

VOL. XV.

R

may appear, with which it is conceived ; next, for the anecdote which it records; and, lastly, for the felicity with which it is expressed: "Tum Scipio, utere igitur argumento, Laeli, tute ipse sensus tui. Cujus, inquit ille, sensus? S. Siquando si forte tibi visus es irasci alicui. L. Ego vero saepius quam vellem. S. Quid? cum tu es iratus, permittis illi iracundiae dominatum animi tui? L. Non me hercule, inquit: sed imitor Archytam illum Tarentinum, qui cum ad villam venisset, et omnia aliter offendisset ac jusserat, te te infelicem, inquit villico, quem necassem jam verberibus, nisi iratus essem. Optime, inquit, Scipio. Ergo Archytas iracundiam, videlicet dissidentem a ratione, seditionem quandam animi movere ducebat, eam consilio sedari volebat. Adde avaritiam, adde imperii, adde gloriae cupiditatem, adde libidines; et illud videre est, in animis hominum regale si imperium sit unius fore dominatum, consilii scilicet: ea est enim animi pars optima: consilio autem dominante, nullum esse libidinibus, nullum irae, nullum temeritati locum . . . . Cur igitur dubitas quid de re publica sentias? in qua, si in plures translata res sit, intellegi jam licet, nullum fore quod praesit imperium; quod, quidem, nisi unum sit, esse nullum potest." Lib. I. c. 38. Scipio, in fact, is represented as cherishing a perfect horror of that immanis bellua, "the swinish multitude," which he thinks ought to be fettered and restrained by every possible expedient; and he lays it down as a maxim, never to be deviated from, that, in the constitution of states, the first and most important object is to provide, ne plurimum valeant plurimi. This would be quite orthodox doctrine even in our day.

Immediately before Philus undertakes the defence of what we now denominate machiavelism, Cicero makes Laelius pronounce the following splendid sentiment: "Ut enim in fidibus aut tibiis, atque ut in cantu ipso ac vocibus concentus est quidam tenendus ex distinctis sonis, quem immutatum aut discrepantem aures eruditae ferre non possunt; isque concentus ex dissimillimarum vocum moderatione concors tamen efficitur et congruens; sic ex summis et infimis et mediis et interjectis ordinibus, ut sonis, moderata ratione civitas consensu dissimillimorum concinit: et quae harmonia a musicis dieitur in cantu, ea est in civitate concordia, artissumum atque optimum in omni re publica vinculum incolumitatis; eaque sine justitia nullo pacto esse potest.' Lib. II. c. 42.

It is well known that Cicero's original intention was to extend his treatise to nine books, each of which was to contain the substance of one day's conversation on the subject of Government; but that he afterwards altered his plan, and confined it to six books, exhibiting the substance of only three day's discussion. When he had finished the two first books he read them to a select party of his friends who had met at his Tusculan villa. On this occasion, Sallust, who was one of the company, strongly advised him to throw aside the form of dialogue, and treat the subject in his own person; alleging, "that the introduction of those ancients, instead of adding dignity, gave an air of romance to the argument, which would have greater weight when delivered by himself, as being the work, not of a petty sophist, or speculative theorist, but of a consular senator and statesman, conversant with affairs of the greatest importance, and writing what his own practice and the experience of many years had taught him to be true." (Ad. Q. Fr. III. 5.) As far as the substance of the work was concerned, this was undoubtedly sound advice; and so Cicero himself appears to have thought; especially as, by throwing the scene so far back, he had precluded himself from touching on some important changes in the republic, and particularly from introducing Varro, conformably to the earnest request of Atticus, which, in a work of this description, must have been peculiarly appropriate, as well as gratifying, to that distinguished scholar and philosopher. But after some deliberation, and probably from a reluctance to throw away the two books already finished, he adhered to his original plan, which enabled him to exhibit with greater facility both sides of the argument, and, at the same time, to intersperse the discussion with those inimitably characteristic traits and strokes of eloquence which afforded so much delight to his countrymen, and still

rivet the attention even in perusing the mutilated fragments now for the first time, since the disappearance of the work, collected and embodied in something like a regular form.

The industry and research displayed by the learned keeper of the Vatican Library, in decyphering, arranging, editing, and illustrating these interesting remains, are only equalled by the judgment and skill he has brought to the execution of a task of no ordinary difficulty, and requiring a combination of talents and acquirements seldom found united in one and the same individual. Having merited so well of the literary world, it is gratifying to observe, that our Royal Society of Literature has had the grace to elect him one of its Associates; an act of liberal justice, which does honour to that infant institution, and gives promise of better things than some persons were disposed to anticipate. Macte virtute esto!

THE SCENERY OF THE CLYDE.

MOST people, I suppose, have heard of the Clyde. It is the finest river in Scotland, and Scotland is rich in fine rivers. There is the Forth, which takes its rise from a small clear pool at the bottom of Benlomond, and after winding away for miles, like a silver thread, through the wild and beautiful scenery of Stirlingshire, expands below Alloa, into a broad and majestic sheet of water, rolling on slowly and silently to the German Ocean. There is the Tay, drawing its source from the distant mountains of Breadalbane, and flowing through the enchanting lake which bears its name, whose wooded banks and little tufted island (romantic with the ruins of its ancient priory) no admirer of the picturesque should live another month without seeing; and let him follow the gentle stream, as it sweeps past the royal borough of Perth, and, gliding under the nine-arched bridge, enters the "Carse of Gowrie"-the Caledonian Arcadia-and at length, swelling into a frith, ceases to exist "betwixt St. Johnston and bonnie Dundee." Then there is the Tweed, -the very Avon of the north-with its classic tributaries, the "Galla Water," and the Tiviot, whose "wild and willowed shore" lives in immortal song. Then there is the Esk, too, or rather the Esks-the North and the South-tracing their origin up to the Grampian Hills, and after finding their way, by different channels, through their native shire of Angus, meeting, for the first and last time, just as they are passing into their common grave in the neigh. bourhood of Montrose. And there

are the Don and the Dee-the noblest of our Highland streams, whose course lies among rocks, and moors, and glens, and heathy hills, softening the stern aspect of the mountains of Mar Forest, and giving a softer beauty to the vale of Braemar. And there are the Nith and the Annan, rolling on in placid quiet, to the boisterous Solway. He who does not know their charms must learn them from Cunningham, not from me. Though last, not least, there is the Devron, a narrow, but romantic stream, and the chief ornament of Banffshire, giving luxuriance to the sweet valley of Forglen,-sweeping round the foot of the green hill, on whose brow stands the cottage of Eden,-winding among the woods of Mount Coffre,-sleeping like liquid crystal under the bridge of Alva, and then meandering on through the noble parks of Duff House, as if loth to leave those favourite scenes for the rude billows of the Murray Frith.

Yet still the Clyde keeps its own ground, and remains unrivalled. Let me carry you along with me, whilst we visit its leading beauties.

We shall set out from Lanark. Here is a path along the northern bank. It is shaded by trees, and its aspect is rural, but you may perceive by its breadth that it is one over which many have trod. The stream flows on beside us, somewhat rapidly, confined within a narrow bed by those high perpendicular walls of equilateral rocks. Now you may hear a noise in the distance, like a November wind sounding among the dry crashing branches of the forest. It increases, and the surrounding

trees and rocks throw a deeper gloom over the path. Is it the roar of approaching thunder? No; the sky is blue and serene, and the sunbeams, though they cannot penetrate here, have all the brightness of April. We must ascend out of this darkness. This little by-road will conduct us to yonder old tower that stands upon the height before us. The situation here is more airy, but the noise is louder than ever. Nay, do not fear it. Follow me to the tower. Now, look there! This is Cora-linn! There is the cataract before us, tumbling down from rock to rock, dashing from chasm to chasm, foaming, boiling, roaring, till the brain becomes dizzy, and the sense of hearing suffers a temporary annihilation. See how its waters seem to burst fresh from the caves of the surrounding rocks! See how the boughs of the impending trees are whitened by its spray! Look how the river slides along with the silent velocity of light, till it reaches the edge of the precipice, and then mark how it leaps into the gulf below, and frightens the mountain-echoes with its earthquake voice! Look yonder, where for a moment it catches the sun-light in its fall; see how every drop glitters with a different hue, laughing to scorn the brightness of the rainbow. When did water ever suggest so many varied emotions,-wonder, fear, delight, and awe! Every faculty is absorbed; the mind is put upon its utmost stretch; the very excess of pleasure becomes pain. We shall gaze no more. Yet it was in this savage retreat, among those rugged, inaccessible cliffs, that the patriot Wallace is said to have concealed himself for a time, meditating the deliverance of his injured country.

Let us pass on-still nobler prospects await us. Those orchards and luxuriant fields through which the stream now winds will not detain us. We are bent upon exploring more distant beauties. Here is the smoky city of Glasgow. Let us get through it, I beseech you, as expeditiously as possible. What a multitude of steamboats are at the quay! We shall go on board "the Inverary Castle." It is large and commodious, and, what is more, sails fast and smoothly. Some of them (though not many)

are so ill fitted with engines, that you run some danger of being shaken in pieces.

For about ten miles, the river turns and winds like a cork-screw. It presents a perpetual succession of sinuosities; and in its course a painter may discover Hogarth's lines of beauty multiplied ad infinitum. But in some of its bolder sweeps, as well as in many of its more abrupt and geometrical meanderings, how beautiful are the little pictures of Nature which are continually presenting themselves! Here, for example, on the bank to the right, is a hamlet, or rather a few detached houses, to which they have given the name of Dunglass. It stands almost embosomed in trees; and immediately behind, a richly-wooded hill rises in a gentle acclivity. I know not well how to account for the many delightful sensations which this secluded spot,"unsung in tale or history,” awakens in the bosom. I have seen such scenes before, in England, and I have read of others which my imagination clothed perhaps in ideal charms, but here those charms are realised. They remind me of the vicinity of Litchfield, the residence of Miss Seward, a lady whose worth and genius will be better appreciated hereafter, but whose sweet cottage, with all its pleasant associations, will ever hold a prominent place "in my mind's eye." They place before me Weston-the "beloved Weston" of the gentle poet Cowper; and, for the moment, I can almost fancy myself surrounded by the spirits of Mrs Unwin, and Lady Hesketh, and Joseph Hill, and Samuel Rose, and Cowper himself, the centre of the system, round whom all the other planets revolved. They recal to my memory that most enchanting retreat in all Sommersetshire, where one who has outlived nearly all the associates of her youth, and who has stepped down, almost alone, from the last century to this, still resides in the midst of her fruits, and flowers, and gardens;-fruits of her own rearing, flowers of her own sowing, and gardens of her own laying out. When I mention Barley Wood and Miss Hannah More, there are readers who will not wonder at my enthusiasm. Where does Mrs Hemans

« НазадПродовжити »