he have the power. He then operates upon a nation as he would upon a gangrened body. He cuts, and carves, and slices.-He pursues the black spot, and that black spot is his own shadow; it is the contempt and hatred entertained for him; he finds it every where. Impelled by his melancholic chagrin and frenzy, he exhausts himself in efforts to fill a bottomless vessel, and that is moreover his Hell."

Upon entering Robespierre's apartment on occasion of the present visit, the physician thus describes the dictator's appearance.

"He was then in his 36th year; his face was crushed between the forehead and the chin, as though two hands had tried forcibly to unite them over the nose. The skin was of a papery paleness, dead, and as if plastered, moreover deeply indented with the hail of the small-pox. Neither blood nor bile circulated. His little eyes, dull and heavy, never looked one in the face, and a perpetual disagreeable winking lessened them yet more, whenever they chanced not to be quite hidden by his green spectacles. His pinched and wrinkled mouth was convulsively contracted by a sort of laughing grimace, whence Mirabeau likened him to a cat that had just drank vinegar. His hair was spruce, pompous and full of pretension. His fingers, shoulders, and neck were incessantly and involuntarily twitched, twisted and shaken, by little spasms of nervous irritation. He was dressed from early morning, and never did I catch him in dishabille."

Robespierre receives the black doctor most politely, and professes a feverish anger against the English newspapers for speaking of the French armies as "Robespierre's troops," and treating him as actual dictator of France. The doctor clearly perceives this indignation to be assumed, and incautiously betrays his penetration; whereupon Robespierre, continuing to chat amicably with him, adds the doctor's name to a list for the guillotine lying beside him. He then gives his visitor a paper of his co-dictator, St. Just, to read, and upon some pretext leaves him.

The paper consists of a set of childishly sentimental laws for a modern Utopia, where, as in the good old Lord Gonzalo's island, there is to be unexampled virtue and morality, freed from the inconvenient restraints of marriage. The doctor's study of plans so happily suited to those wholesale executioners and their philanthropic projector, is interrupted by the entrance of Joseph Chenier, who desires to be announced to Robespierre as a member of the Convention, and the author of "Caius Gracchus" and "Timoleon." The dramatist questions the physician in a way that awakens in the latter a fear of eaves-droppers, if not of key-hole observers; and we extract the dialogue that ensues, which would we think have a good effect on the stage.

"I rose and walked about, that the conversation might seem less continuous. He understood me, and walked in the contrary direction. We moved at a steady pace, like two sentinels who cross each other. Each assumed an air of internal meditation: one spoke a word as he passed, the other answered as he repassed.

"As I went from the door to the fire-place, I said, as low as possible, but with an appearance of perfect indifference, It is possible we may be purposely brought together:' and then, very loud, a pretty apartment this.'

"He returned from the fire-place to the door, and meeting me in the middle, said, I believe it;' then raising his head, 'it looks upon the court.'

"I passed. I saw your father this morning,' said I; and shouted, "What fine weather!"

"He repassed; I knew it; my father and I no longer see each other. I hope André will not be long there;--a magnificent sky.'

"I crossed him again, saying, Tallien, Courtois, Barras, Clausel, are good citizens;' and then, enthusiastically, how fine a tragic subject is Timoleon!' "He crossed me returning;-" And Collot d'Herbois, Loiseau, Bourdon, Barrère, Boissy-d'Anglas ;-yet I prefer my Fenelon.'

66

I quickened my walk. This may still last some days;-the versification

is said to be beautiful.'

"He rapidly strode forward, and elbowed me. The triumvirate will not outlast four days.-I read it at the Citizeness Vestris' house.'

"This time I pressed his hand as we passed. Beware of naming your brother; he is not thought of;-the catastrophe is much admired.'

"At our next meeting he warmly caught my hand. He's on no list; I shall not mention him; the 9th I release him with my own hand;-I am only afraid it may be too clearly foreseen.'

"This was the last passage. The door opened, and we were at opposite ends of the room."

Robespierre and St. Just now enter, and a conversation ensues, in which Robespierre avows having brought the doctor and Joseph Chenier together, in order to introduce the deputy to a man who takes such an interest in his family. The doctor tries to turn the matter off by saying,

"Faith, I love literature for my part, and his Fenelon”

when Robespierre interrupts him, to display the contempt entertained by himself and St. Just for persons who waste their time on poetry! The perplexity of the situation is next heightened by the entrance of Chenier, the father, whom Robespierre thus announces :

"Here is another acquaintance of your's. I have prepared you a pleasant, sociable meeting.""

The scene now again becomes strikingly dramatic. The son and the friend repeatedly and vainly endeavour to check the old man's determined purpose. He treats them as inimical, or dastardly and selfish; and duped by the affected good nature of Robespierre, who relishes the scene, like a cat sporting with a mouse, pleads André's cause in triumphant confidence of success. The dictator then sits down, saying,

"So that was their grand affair! What think'st thou, St. Just? Did they fancy me ignorant of the little brother's imprisonment? The good folks must really suppose me an idiot. Only, it is true enough I should not have troubled myself about him for some days.'

And so André Chenier, by his father's imprudence, is at once consigned to the revolutionary tribunal and the guillotine, being executed two days prior to the overthrow of Robespierre. The execution scene is well given, as witnessed by the doctor from his own window.

And now, what think you, gentle reader, has been the worthy physician' object in telling these three stories, beyond the expulsion of the blue devils, who fled at the first dose? Perhaps to induce his gifted patient to abandon a career so profitless, so despised, as poetry? The very reverse. To prove that one form of government is no better than

another, that politics are therefore the most unprofitable of studies, and thence to convince the disheartened poet that he ought to devote himself wholly and solely to his art. Lest our readers should be unduly biassed by the narrative half of the argument, we shall end by extracting a passage or two of this conclusion, which is written con amore. Stello asks the cause of this universal contempt.

"The sentiment is envy,' said the inflexible doctor; the idea (indestructible pretence !) is the uselessness of the arts to the social state. The pantomime of all towards the poet is a protecting and supercilious smile; but all feel in the depth of their hearts something like the presence of a superior divinity.""

art?

He afterwards supposes Homer thus to argue against Plato.

"Imagination with his elect, is as superior to mere Judgment with his orators, as are the gods of Olympus to the demigods. The most precious gift of heaven is the rarest. Now, see you not that a century hardly produces one of these poets, for a crowd of clever, sensible logicians and sophists. Imagination contains within itself Judgment and Memory, without which it were not. What resistlessly commands men if not emotion? What generates emotion if not Who teaches art if not God himself? For the poet has no master, and all sciences are taught, save his alone. You ask me what institutions, what laws, what doctrines I have given to cities? To nations none; to the world a deathless one. Your doctrines, your laws, your institutions, have been good for one age, one people, and with them have died; whilst the works of the divine art live for ever in proportion as they are elevated, and all bear wretched mortals to the imperishable law of LOVE and PITY."

樂

Thus far the supposititious Homer. Now for the doctor himself on the destiny and duties of the poet, whom he exhorts not to wish for popularity, at least whilst alive.

"His mission is to produce works, but only when he hears the secret voice (of inspiration.) He must await it. Let no foreign influence dictate his words; such were perishable. Let him not fear the inutility of his work; if beautiful, by that alone it will be useful, since it will have united men in one common sentiment of adoration and contemplation of itself, and the thought which it embodies."

"Immortal works are formed to delude death, by making our ideas outlive our bodies. Write such if you can, and rest assured that should there be found in them one thought, a single word, useful to the civilizing progress, which you may have dropped, like a feather from your wing, men enough will be always ready to gather it up, and work it to satiety. The application of ideas to things is waste of time in the creators of ideas."

With this passage, of which we recommend the study to the Utilitarians, we take leave, we trust not for long, of Count Alfred de Vigny.

An ill-natured critic might ask how any thing can live for ever proportionably? But we are not ill-natured, else we might also have observed in the beginning of the scene between the Doctor and Chenier, that the latter walks in the wrong direction.

VOL. XI. NO. XXII.

M M

ART. XIV.-Μαρκου Αντονίνου Των εις Εαυτόν. (Meditations of the Emperor Marcus Antoninus, in Twelve Books, (Greek,) translated into Persian by M. Von Hammer, and intitled in that Language, "Rays from the Light-house of Marcus Antoninus.") 8vo. Vienna,

1831.

THE efforts that have been made, and are still making, for the moral regeneration of Asia, and repaying the old debt of knowledge and civilization incurred ages ago by Europe, are among the most gratifying characteristics of the present age. It is to be lamented that these exertions are seldom so wisely directed as they are generously conceived, and that "zeal without knowledge" has too frequently baffled its own objects. Controversial tracts, written by persons wholly ignorant of the oriental character, and not always very deeply versed in Eastern languages, do infinitely more harm than good; and even if both these defects were removed, some previous mental discipline is necessary to prepare the minds of persons debased by ignorance and prejudice, for a calm and serious investigation of the truth. It is, therefore, with great pleasure that we announce the publication of a Persian translation of the Meditations of the Emperor Marcus Antoninus, by that distinguished orientalist M. Von Hammer. It would be scarcely possible to discover any production of a western writer, more peculiarly suited to oriental taste than the profound and philanthropic maxims of the imperial author; they unite the intrinsic worth of truth with luxuriance of thought and conciseness of expression, qualities which must recommend them to the grave and almost stern character of eastern readers. There is ample food for meditation in each pithy sentence; the volume is just that which would be most desired by those who love to indulge "the indolent activity of thought."

Since the glorious days of the Khalifát, when the scientific works of the Greeks and Romans were translated into Arabic and Syriac, and thus in many instances rescued from total or partial destruction, we remember but one example of a Greek classic being rendered into an oriental language. In the beginning of the seventeenth century, John Elichman, of Silesia translated into Persian "The Table* of Cebes" and "The Golden Verses of Pythagoras;" as excellent a selection as could well have been made. He died, however, before his work passed through the press, and the publication was superintended by his friend, the celebrated Salmasius. A new edition of this would be a valuable addition to our stock of elementary Persian works.

The principle by which M. Von Hammer has been guided in making this translation, is not to render his original literally, but to dress it in such colours as the imperial author would have used, had he written in Persian instead of Greek. The typographical execution of the work is very creditable to the Vienna press, and the clearness given to

In accordance with ancient usage, we prefer the word "Table" to "Picture," because the latter word does not fully express the meaning, and we are more easily misled by a common than an obsolete phrase.

the type by lengthening the ligatures of the letters, is certainly a decided improvement, especially to persons, like ourselves, whose sight is none of the best, and whose knowledge of oriental languages is but limited.

We think it right to add, that this typographic curiosity has been published at the sole expense of its learned and deserving editor; though, unlike Schlegel, he has not trumpeted the fact, and made it the theme of endless and idle boasting. We have noticed a very few typographical errors, but none of such importance as to produce any serious inconvenience to the student.

We trust that the work will receive the patronage of all those in this country, who are anxious to encourage oriental literature. The work itself well merits their support, and its editor has amply earned the gratitude both of Europe and Asia.

ART. XV.-1. Trente Mois de ma Vie, Quinze Mois avant et Quinze Mois après mon Voyage au Congo, ou Ma Justification des infamies débitées contre moi; suivie de Détails nouveaux et curieux sur les Mœurs et les Usages des habitans du Brésil et de Buenos Ayres, et d'une Description de la Colonie Patagonia. Par J. B. Douville, Auteur du Voyage au Congo, Secrétaire de la Société de Géographie, et Membre de plusieurs Sociétés Savantes, Françaises et Etrangères. Paris, chez l'auteur, rue de Saints-Pères, No. 63. 1833. 8vo.

2. Bulletin de la Société de Geographie. Fevrier, 1833. 8vo. Paris. We thought we had done with M. Douville and his African Travels for ever; but he will still thrust himself and his fabricated claims to be a great discoverer (on a par with Columbus and Galileo, and like them not less unjustly persecuted,) on the public attention. The "Justification" which he has now published, forming a volume of 400 pages, is intended as a reply to the statement respecting him by M. Lacordaire, which appeared in the Literary Intelligence of our last Number, copied from the Revue des Deux Mondes. That statement was of a nature not only to throw doubts on the authenticity of a portion of M. Douville's narrative, but even to make it problematical whether he had ever been in Africa at all. The opinion emitted in the two articles of this Journal (in Nos. XIX. and XX.) was, that the book itself was completely worthless; but that it offered sufficient evidence that the author bad performed one journey into the interior, most probably in the honourable capacity of superintendant of a slaving expedition. After a careful examination of the new statements made by M. Douville himself, and comparing them with those given in his Travels, we are more and more confirmed in the belief that our surmises were correct. We will briefly notice these points of confirmation; and having recently received some authentic additional information respecting the hero, which we think is of a kind that will entirely remove those doubts which the Central Commission of the Paris Geographical Society profess (as appears by the last number of their Bulletin) still to entertain respecting M. Douville's astronomical observations, we think it our duty to publish it. Before