Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

obliged by the Vizier to recall him, to send him back to me, to beseech me to take him again into my service, to restore to him his pay, and to augment it by two aspres per diem, with an order not to interfere in future with the janissaries attached to my suite.

With respect to the affair of the holy sepulchre, the Vizier tells me, that, by the Ottoman law, the repairs of a temple are not allowed, unless it should have fallen in ruins, or been burnt; and that the roof of the holy sepulchre still exists.

From M. de Feriol to the Sieur Michel.

August 21, 1704. If had well examined the inyou struction I gave you, you would not have allowed it to be intimated to the Prince, and to the Hungarians, that the Turkish succour was about to march into Hungary. You yourself are fully aware that there was not any question of this when you left Constantinople, and you have committed me with the Hungarians more than you ought, and indeed more than you well could. I sent you into Hungary for no other purpose than to obtain certain information of the operations of Prince Ragotsky, of his designs, and of his wants, to the end that I might be useful to him.

[blocks in formation]

by the Vizier, your predecessor, to speak to me of the limits which the Grand Seignor had established in the Archipelago, I ordered our privateers not to exceed them, which order was obeyed; and notwithstanding, our enemies have since that time captured several of our vessels within the said limits. As I am informed that we have five ships of war at the entrance of the Archipelago, I beg you to tell me whether there are any limits or not.

Copy of a Letter from M. de Feriol to the King. SIRE, Sept. 17, 1706. Three days ago I had a very long conference with the Grand Vizier, from whom I received more marks of honour and distinction than had ever been paid to me by any other Vizier. As I perceived that he was very courteous and affable, after having settled all the current affairs of religion and commerce to my satisfaction, I asked him if he would proceed to the subject of politics. He seemed desirous to do so, and I asked him whether he was well informed of the present state of Europe, and of all that had passed during this war, observing, that if he possessed this information I would cut the matter short. He answered me that he was informed; and I replied, that we had carried on the war for six years against the greater part of the Princes of Europe: That fortune, which had hitherto appeared doubtful, seemed to declare in favour of our enemies: That the commencement of this campaign, which may be said to have been favourable to us, we having driven the Germans from the banks of the Rhine, defeated them in Italy, and laid siege to Barcelona, where the Archduke had his quarters, had been entirely changed by the necessity we were under of raising the siege, and by the loss of a battle in Flanders: That almost the whole of Spain, and the greater part of Spanish Flanders, had acknowledged the Archduke: That the kingdoms of Italy were still faithful; but that it was to be feared they would follow the example of the other countries belonging to the Spanish monarchy. And that it behoved the Grand Seignor to make reflections on all these circumstances, and to judge whether it was his interest thus to leave the

Emperor to aggrandize himself, and to wait till the last extremity.

The Vizier told me that the treaties which had been concluded with the Emperor, bound the hands of his Highness; and that he was considered here as a friend, and as a Prince who had not given the smallest subject of complaint.

I replied, that the treaties merely referred to a suspension of arms; and that a Prince with whom there was not a positive treaty of peace, could not be considered as a friend.

The Vizier opposed to me the law of the Mussulmans, which did not permit them to break their promise without a legitimate cause.

I replied to him, that such causes were never wanted; and still less pretexts: that the first law resided in the safety of the people: that we were rather men than monks; and that if it were permitted to an individual to live without views, it was shameful in a great prince, and in a great minister, not to foresee events which were to happen thirty years hence. I added that, if the French troops had not entered Germany at the time when the imperialists were at the gates of Sophia, the Turks would not possess at this time a single foot of ground in Europe. I represented to him, that at the time of the union of the French monarchy with that of Spain, the Germans excited the jealousy of the Porte against that great preponderance; and that, at this time, when they occupy the greater part of the Spanish territory, what they said of us may be said of them. I explained to the Vizier the address of the house of Austria in constantly providing itself with a great number of allies: That it had waged war against the Ottoman empire, with the aid of the Poles, the Muscovites, and the Venetians; and that it now carried on a warfare against France, in concert with the English, the Dutch, the Portuguese, and the greater part of the princes of Germany and Italy: That this was done with no other view than to keep France in check, so as to be enabled one day again to assail that empire, without having to dread an enemy who might fall on its rear. At length, after having exhausted this subject, and perceiving, by the replies of the Vizier, that my reasons had not the effect Í desired, that of bringing about a rup

ture with the Emperor, I proposed to him succours for Prince Ragotsky. I spoke in the first place of open, and afterwards of secret succours, and told him that the Porte could not with honour reject an oppressed and neighbouring nation which demanded its support and protection.

The Vizier desired to know what the succours were.

I told him that the Prince had a sufficient number of light troops to make incursions, but that he demanded Albanese and Bosniacs, to be enabled to maintain his ground, and that he wished to have from ten to twelve thousand of them, whom he would levy and maintain at his own

expense.

The Vizier replied to me, that it did not accord with the dignity of the Sultan to grant such a succour: That he would rather make an open declaration; but this he would not do, and would remain in an exact neutrality until the expiration of the truce. In saying this, he laid a particular stress on the treaties and on the law.

I demanded why the Turks, being so very scrupulous about their neu trality, permitted the Prince of Walachia to assist the Germans with provisions and horses, and to supply all their wants.

The Vizier said, that the Prince had done so during the last war with the consent of the Porte, because he could not support himself otherwise.

I replied, that he had kept up the custom during peace, and that in reality he acted the part of a trader, not giving any thing without money; and also, that although the subject and dependant of the Porte, he did things which the Grand Viziers would not dare to undertake.

As the Grand Chancellor and Chiaoux Bachi were present at our conversation, and as the Vizier from time to time cast his eyes on them, I fancied that he made a difficulty of explaining himself in their presence, and that he dared not order them to retire. I therefore observed to him that, frequently in a conversation carried on through the medium of an interpreter, the parties did not understand each other well; that a single word might change the sense of things; and that, if he wished it, I would draw up for his perusal a memoir regarding our

common interests.

He replied, that I had explained myself perfectly well; that he understood me well, and comprehended all my intentions; and that it was not necessary to put them into the form of a memoir; but in saying this he constantly adverted to the treaty and the law. He merely added these words: "We will speak of these matters in private, and will make our representations to his Highness of our sentiments, on which he will decide." During the whole of the conversation he shewed a great contempt of the Germans, and a great store of hatred towards them. For my part, I find that those who are contemptible are the Turks, for losing by their dastardy the finest opportunity in the world; that they have been too tenderly dealt with; and that they ought to be treated with the same rigour with which they treat their subjects. I shall not cease my importunities, more especially as to what concerns Prince Ragotsky.

[blocks in formation]

sustained in the preceding one. The Emperor was for some time alarmed' at the movements they are reported to have made on the frontiers of Hungary. I do not know whether they are to be ascribed to the counsels you have given; but, however, you may be aware of the utility of such a diversion; for the good of my service, you should be careful of the maxims you employ to persuade the Turks to re-commence the war. It is not meet to afford room to have it said, on good grounds, that infidels maintain that their law does not permit them to forfeit their engagements without a legitimate cause, and that my ambassador should say that pretexts are suf ficient, and that we should recollect we are men, before we fulfil the obligations of the law. Beside the advantage afforded by such principles to a barbarous nation, those who pique themselves on an exact observance of their word are not to be persuaded; independently of which they are very glad to have a pretext to excuse the wish they entertain to remain in tranquillity.

It is a justice due to the Grand Monarque, as he was styled, to say, that immediately after this correspondence, M. de Feriol was recalled, and was succeeded by a more moderate, but equally subtle character, M. Desalleurs.

ON WIT AND HUMOUR.

By the late Professor John Millar.*

LITERATURE was but the amusement of this distinguished man's leisure hours, and therefore his character as a writer cannot be greatly affected by any of his necessarily very imperfect compositions on such subjects. His range of reading was but narrow; and of the poetry, the eloquence, and the philosophy of the world of old, he had gathered his knowledge, not from the immortal originals, but from the writings of other men upon them; so that in place of those fine thoughts and sentiments which a mind deeply imbued with the spirit of literature breathes over all its disquisitions-in place of that lofty enthusiasm which springs from the communion between

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

• See his Works in Four Volumes, published in 1812, by Mawman.

writes, as he did on other subjects more familiar and congenial to his mind, vigorously and well; and if he cannot be said ever to be profound, he is at least unconfused and clear, and suggests several useful and important hints to the student in literature.

We believe that his few Literary Essays are very little known, and we shall now give our readers an abstract or analysis of one on dramatic poetry, which seems, though left imperfect, to be the best of his efforts, and, in some respects, both amusing and instructive. The first part of the essay treats very slightly and superficially of tragedy-it is only when he gets to comedy that the author writes either with spirit or intelligence. His disquisition begins with this sentence:

the asseverations of a few shallow metaphysicians. What occasion was there to circumscribe the inclination to laughter, for example, within the nar row limits of one exciting cause? Or what could be more unphilosophical than to lay it down in the books of philosophers, that any one quality or relation of objects was, by the constitution of our natures, the sole source of any one emotion? Having laid down his dogma, however, Mr Millar is forced to adhere to it, and his essay therefore can be considered as affording merely some illustrations of one of the causes (by him supposed the sole) of that emotion which he considers (in our opinion erroneously) to be the end of comedy.

Of all the examples of contrast which are conducive to laughter, the richest and most extensive, he well remarks, is that which appears in the characters of men. It is the great object of us all to stand high in the opinion of others; and when it happens that a person, aiming at this, appears foolish, absurd, and despicable, he becomes a very natural object of scorn and ridicule. The talent of exciting laughter, by the exhibition of any impropriety or absurdity in human character and conduct, Mr Millar calls humour-while the talent of exciting mirth, by any contrast which has no dependence on the behaviour of mankind, is by him said to be wit.

The end of comedy, properly so called, is to excite laughter. This we utterly deny. The first rude comic exhibitions among a rude people might have had this end; but comedy, properly so called, has unquestionably a much more various Scope; and many of its most important incidents, sentiments, and characters, reflect an image of human life, in which there is not, and cannot be, any thing of the ridiculous. Laughter is not the sole, nor yet the principal end of the comedy of any civilized nation, ancient or modern-nor could any kind of composition, whose scope was so mean and limited, have occupied such an important part in the literature of the It is needless to hint to our readers, world. Mr Millar is, we think, equally that this definition of wit is extremely unfortunate in defining laughter an unsatisfactory-we do not hesitate to emotion arising from a contrast in the say, perfectly false. The behaviour mind between certain objects of an of mankind has been the food of wit opposite description," and in after- since the world began. Wit differs wards asserting, "that to produce from humour, not in having a different this emotion a sudden contrast of dig- subject, but in considering the same nity and meanness is always neces- subject differently. Deprive wit of the sary." In metaphysics he did not think relations of society, and then give us so freely for himself as in politics- an example of its existence. The truth else had he not allowed other men to is, that humour is a far higher power tell him, in direct opposition to what than wit, and frequently draws its matea very little reflection would have rials from far deeper sources in human shewn him to be true, that he never nature. The humours of mankind are had, in all the course of his life, once not only endless, but in their most inlaughed except at the contrast of dig- teresting exhibitions they are insepar nity and meanness. Simplification was ably blended with their affections, their one of the great sins of the pseudo- happiness, and their whole moral as philosophy of his day; and a foolish well as natural being: And what do we dogma once laid down, was re-echoed mean by humour in a writer, but the from treatise to treatise, till conscious- faculty of describing to the life the hu ness and self-experience were distrust- mours of human nature? In speaking ed or disused, and reading people shut of wit and humour, Mr Millar himup their minds to all influences, save self gives the precedence to the former

in the rank of powers, without intending to do so; for while he asserts that contrast is the subject matter of both, he also tells us, that the contrasts humour delights in are those exhibited by human character, and that those are the richest and the most extensive. Men of real wit have been more nume rous in the world than men of real humour-just as men of fancy have been more numerous than men of imagination.

But leaving these hints to the reflection of our readers, let us accompany Mr Millar in his essay. Considering wit and humour as distinguished in the manner he has said, he remarks, that the latter has a much greater tendency than the former to excite violent and hearty laughter, and constitutes, for that reason, the chief province of comedy. "Human nature is a great laughing-stock, which we are pleased to see tossed about, and turned in all shapes, and with whose ridiculous appearance we are never tired." This, we think, is a very lively and clever sentence; but in what precedes it, Mr Millar has obviously been considering humour in its lowest and vulgar sense, and not at all in its poetical, moral, and philosophical sense. Still holding that the effect of humour is to excite excessive and outrageous laughter, Mr Millar observes, that though comic writing cannot be successfully cultivated until the liberal arts and sciences have, in general, made considerable progress, it is likely to attain its highest improvement at a period which precedes the most refined and correct state of taste and literature. Simple and ignorant people, he remarks, will laugh at a trifling or bad joke—while more refined persons are more fastidious and sparing of their merriment. This seems not to be very oracular, and is indeed a good instance of the formal gravity with which, when he supposes himself to be philosophizing, a very clever and acute man will ofttimes utter a most inane truism. But we suspect that there is no truth in this truism. A highly refined, that is to say, a highly cultivated, and vigorous state of society may not be given to laughter without a cause; but, nevertheless, they have many causes for laughter. And if humour be at all of the nature of that power which we have hinted at, it will be strongest

[ocr errors]

and most prevalent in that state of society where there are most humours. We suspect, that by a refined and correct state of taste and literature," and also by the expression, "more refined persons," Mr Millar means

[ocr errors]

that artificial and false taste whose strength lies in mere manners and conventional circumstances, and not genuine knowledge and power. We are convinced of this from what he says afterwards about "c persons in the higher sphere of life," whose minds he supposes to be "filled with a greater store of ideas and sentiments" than those of other people, and whose conversation is said to be wittier and more diversified-in short, less low and humorous. Why, it is true that society may become so refined-that is to say, so polished that its strength is by attrition worn and attenuated, and doubtless humour will then be unknown. But society cannot be too enlightened to relish humour, and the finest specimens of humour have been produced during those periods when the mind of the nation, among whom they appeared, was in the fulness and perfec tion of its faculties.

We cannot therefore agree with this writer, in thinking that the higher advances of civilization, not only explode the ludicrous pastimes of a former age, but weaken the propensity to every species of exhibition. His argument in support of this assertion is singularly unfortunate. "To excite strong ridicule, the picture must be charged, and the features, though like, exaggerated. The man, who in conversation aims at the display of this talent, must endeavour to represent with peculiar heightening the tone, the aspect, the gesture, the deportment of the person he ridicules. To paint folly, he must for the time appear foolish." Here he confounds humorous or comic compositions-comedy itself—with the mere mimicry of individuals in conversation. And he also seems to think, that there can be no humorous mimicry, except of folly and absurdity. All this is quite away from the subject in hand. The entertainment arising from wit, he says, has no connexion with those humiliating circumstances which are inseparable from humour-and then he draws a very flourishing character of a person endowed with that quality, as vague as it is elaborate.

Notwithstanding the extreme con

« AnteriorContinua »