published last year in Edinburgh,* there is prefixed a short life of Bacon, which, so modest in the manner in which it was announced, has not as yet, we believe, attracted any public

attention.

use

We shall take the liberty to quote, from the anonymous and unobtrusive production, a few sentences, which we are quite sure will afford great pleasure to Mr Dugald Stewart, if indeed he has not already seen them. We trust they will be perused with not a little of what Homer calls " ful shame," by Mr Macvey Napier. Before parting, however, with our pompous essayist, we must express our wish, that he, and such as he, would in future confine their labours, or rather their pretensions, to "such things as are meet for them," and not insult the character of our country, by presuming to approach the to them forbidden ground of true scholarship and true philosophy. But now for our

contrast.

"The sum of Lord Bacon's philosophy may be stated in a few propositions. He tells us,

“I. That the ultimate aim of philosophical investigation is to bring the course of events, as much as possible, under our own control, in order that we may turn it to our own advantage.

"II. That, as each event depends upon a certain combination of circumstances which precede it, and constitute its cause, it is evident we shall be able to command the event, whenever we have it in our power to produce that combination of circumstances out of the means which nature has placed within our reach.

"III. That the means of producing many events which we little dream of, are actually placed within our reach; and that nothing prevents us from using those means, but our inability to select them from the crowd of other circumstances by which they are disguised and surrounded.

"IV. That therefore we should endeavour, by diligent observation, to find out what circumstances are essential, and what extraneous, to the production of each event; and its real cause being stripped free from all the perplexing concomitants which occur in nature, we shall perceive at once whether we can command the circumstances that compose it or not. This, in short, is to generalize; and having done so, we shall sometimes discover, that objects which of all others appeared the most useless, remote and inapplicable to our purpose, possess the

*Macredie, Skelly, and Muckersey, 1817. 8vo.

very properties we are in search of. Nature stands ready to minister to our designs, if we have only the sagacity to disentangle its operations from one another, to refer each event to its real source, and to trace the powers and qualities of objects into their most abstract form.

"In pursuing the dictates of this noble philosophy, man is no longer impotent and ridiculous. He calmly vanquishes the barriers which oppose his wishes-he eludes the causes of pain-he widens the range of enjoyments, and, at the same time, feels the dignity of intellect, which, like a magician's talisman, has made all things bow before his feet. Lord Verulam was the man who first taught us to cultivate this magic with success. When we visit his monument, it should be with a sacred awe, which forbids us to remember his frailties. Envy loves to whisper, that he died in disgrace, but gratitude proclaims, that he still lives and flourishes in the advancement of science; and when we behold around us the giant powers of nature performing whatever tasks man chooses to assign them, we may say to the departed philosopher, in the words of Shakspeare, Oh, St Alban's, thou art mighty yet, thy spirit walks abroad!'

"To this extraordinary individual we are indebted also for an attempt to reduce the chaos of literature into some degree of order; and to shew, that notwithstanding the multiplicity and variety of books, there are only three different objects, to one or other of which the contents of every book must apply. According to Lord Bacon, human knowledge is resolvable into history, philosophy, and poetry. By history, is meant a statement of particular events which have occurred in past time. By philosophy, is meant the knowledge of general facts, concerning the relation of one phenomenon to another. By poetry, is meant an assemblage of ideas brought together for the purpose of exciting emotion.

"In contemplating this arrangement, however, we should attend to the distinction between poetry, and the science of making poetry, which last, is nothing but a branch of philosophy: that is to say, the art, in so far as it has been reduced into general principles, comes under the same head as any other science; and may be denominated the theory of producing emotion in the human mind, by means of an artificial assemblage of ideas. Poetry bears the same relation to the art of poetry, as a machine bears to the science of mechanics.

"At the same time it may be remarked, that poets in general do not compose their pieces theoretically, and by means of calcuĨations à priori, but by an exercise of the principle of association, in summoning up ideas, and by observing what feeling is excited by those ideas in their own minds. They adopt or reject, not for scientific reasons, but according to a trial of their

properties made on the occasion, and with a view to the particular case in what they are to be employed. Hence it may be said, that what is done in this art, is for the most part done empirically. When a poem is finished, it frequently happens that another person is better able to explain how it produces its effects, than the author himself.

"No one of the fine arts has ever been so thoroughly digested into general principles, as to be entitled to the name of a science. At the same time it is obvious, that every effect which is produced in the fine arts, must depend upon some general fact, which, if known, would furnish, à priori, the reason for preferring one combination to another. Hence it may be said, that the sciences and the fine arts have no real difference in their own nature, but that the difference lies in the nature of the human mind, which is less able to ascertain a complete system of general facts in the arts than in the sciences.

"To reduce poetry into a science, it would be necessary first to have a list of those original ideas to which our different emotions respectively owe their birth, before any casual association has linked them to other ideas. Secondly, to have a statistical account of the associations of that portion of mankind for whom we write. And thirdly, as a certain physical affection of the bodily system is necessary for the continuance of every emotion, it would be necessary for us to understand how long the physical affection can be sustained without becoming morbid; as also, what emotions

are best calculated to relieve each other's effects on the bodily system, since it is the body, not the mind, that requires change of feeling.

"Lord Bacon's Essays are by no means the least part of his philosophy. As they apply to the common affairs of life, and the common motives of human action, it would be ridiculous to expect in them the formality of science. Wisdom has never appeared in a garb so closely adapted to her person. Every subject is treated with a clear and luminous brevity, which places the propositions side by side, without any intermediate ornament. A florid discourse may astonish us, but it is a simple one like this which enables us to arrive at conclusions. Perhaps in most of the essays of the present day, the leading propositions are too far separated from each other; and it would be well if the authors would remember, that to reason is to compare ideas.

"In the mind of Lord Bacon, the characteristic of a powerful and searching intellect predominate almost to a preternatural degree. Perhaps it enfeebled the rest of his qualities, and gave rise to the errors of his life. Indeed we seldom find great strength of volition united to a fondness for contemplation for its own sake. Lord Bacon was contemplation personified. He lived only to observe, and was satisfied if he knew the

theory of the conduct of others, without seeking to distinguish himself by the firmness or prudence of his own. The bias of our characters is derived from the turn of our ambition, and Lord Bacon's ambition was purely intellectual."

THE MINSTREL OF BRUGES.

[THE following version, of a most amusing old French story, was executed by the late Mr Johnes of Hafod, the well known translator of Froissart, &c. We are indebted for this, and several other pieces of the same description, to the gentleman to whom they were given some years ago by his friend Mr Johnes. The Minstrel of Bruges is composed in six parts. We shall insert the remaining parts in our next Number.]

Part First.

A YOUTH of Cambray, setting out from that town on a party of pleasure, overtook a wretched looking set of travellers in a hollow way not far from Cambray, at the source of the Scheldt. This company consisted of an old man about seventy, a woman of fifty, a young girl of eighteen, and two ragged boys of fifteen and sixteen years of age, who were amusing themselves with gathering nuts.

He

The old man had the black collar of his coat hung round with shells, and at his feet (for he was seated) lay his pilgrim's staff and a bagpipe. was humming an air to the tune of the Dutchess Golande; the old woman was complaining of her misery; the young girl seemed lost in thought; and the boys were bawling loud enough to stun one,-while the Cambresian observed, from a small eminence, this discordant group.

ever.

The woman spoke to her husband. "How can you thus sing in our wretched situation ?"-"It is to drive away sorrow," replied he.-" Your songs have not that virtue. You must allow that you have made choice of a pretty trade.' -"It is a gay one how-"To turn Minstrel, and run about the world like a vagabond.""I have always loved geography and travels."- "I do not love them for my part; you only think of yourself; and what a fine education are you giv"Neither you ing your children."nor myself have had a better; in truth, our children are grown up.' but they have not a farthing.'

"Yes,

"I

never received more from my parents." One of the little nut-gatherers now interrupted the conversation, by calling out, Mother, do not scold thus loudly, for here is a gentleman listening to you."

66

The Cambresian, at these words, advanced, and saluted the Minstrel, who rose up with dignity, seized his staff, and, preparing his bagpipe, said, "Sir, what air would you wish to hear-gay, tender, or grand? say, for I can satisfy your taste, however difficult it may be." The Cambresian presented him with a skelein, and replied, Play whatever air, Minstrel, you may like-I am not difficult to please, having never heard other music than the plain chant of our church of St Geri." The Minstrel struck up a Virelais of the Count of Barcelona. "That is very melancholy," said the Cambresian; can not you make me laugh instead of making me cry?" The Minstrel played off a Biscayan air, which delighted the young man; and as he had found out his taste, he continued so many of these airs that the Cambresian no way regretted his skelein.

Perhaps there is no good thing that people so soon tire of as music. The Cambresian, struck with what he had heard of the dispute between the Minstrel and his wife, said to him, "If I have distinctly understood the conversation between you and your wife, that has just passed, it seems that your noble profession does not gain you a great number of ducats.""No, certainly," replied the Minstrel, "but one cannot enjoy every happiness at the same time; rich or poor I am always gay; I have seen a variety of countries, and have lived more happy than many kings; but, sir, every thing must have an end; I am now thinking to retire, and am on my road to end my days in tranquillity at Bruges, my native country.' "You have more than time for that," interrupted the Cambresian ;" and were I not afraid of being troublesome, I would request an account of your adventures, which assuredly must be very interesting."-" I will cheerfully comply with your wishes, sir," said the Minstrel, "for I am always thankful when any one shall have the goodness to set me talking."

"I was born, as I before said, at Bruges, and in my younger days was

one of the best archers of that town; but having received from Nature a strong taste for music, I laid the bow aside, and swelled the bagpipe. Unfortunately at that period Bruges swarmed with Minstrels, and their harmony soon overpowered mine. It was in vain that I presented myself at the palaces of the Duke of Brabant and Earl of Hainault-they laughed at my harmony, and plainly told me that I played most wretchedly on the pipes. Finding, therefore, from my own experience, that a prophet has no honour in his own country, I left Belgium and went into Picardy.

6

"One day as I was playing an air at the foot of the walls of the castle of Coucy, the generous Raoul appeared on the battlements; he called me to him, and said, Young Minstrel, four leagues hence lies the town of St Quentin; and having passed through it, you will see the fortunate castle of Fayel a quarter of a league off, seated on an eminence, wherein resides my love. Go thither, and play off, under the walls, such discordant sounds as you have done here; my love may perhaps come to listen to them as I have done; thou wilt present her with this letter: she may perhaps have the kindness to reply to it, which thou wilt return here with, and I will recompense thee more magnificently than if thou hadst been the first musician in the world.' Delighted with so lucky an adventure, I took the letter from Sir Raoul, passed through St Quentin, and was soon at the walls of the castle of Fayel. My music resounded like that of the God Pan, when a young lady appeared at her turret with a face as brilliant, and with eyes as bright, as those of the red-breast when seen in winter in the midst of bushes. I ceased playing on her appearance, to offer her the letter;-imprudent as I was-for I had been watched-old Fayel was at hand-he seized the letter, ordered his daughter to retire, and commanded his pages and bachelors to put me into confinement. Shortly after I was brought before this Argus, who was foaming with rage; I attempted to soften, or to put him to sleep, with my pipe, as Mercury had done to the original Argus with his flute; but, alas! the Lord de Fayel was no lover of music; he had me bound by his valets, and, regardless of my talents,

had the barbarity to order me one hundred lashes. I was then thrown into a dark hole, with a bundle of straw and a most frugal supper, and on the morrow dismissed, with the advice to examine well all the avenues to the castle, for if I were again found within its purlieus, the world would for ever be deprived of so great a musician, and Raoul of so faithful a servant. They positively assured me, that I should then be delivered over to the high-bailiff of the Vumandor's, from whose clutches I might get out as well as I could.

"I dared not return to Coucy, but crossed the Somme; and having heard that the Lord of Pequigny, a patron of the fine arts, had large party of Minstrels at his court, I ventured thither to make him a judge of my talents.

Vanity has ever been my failing, as it is said to be that of my brethren; I must therefore own, that the Lord of Pequigny was far from considering me as a first-rate performer; on the contrary, he told me that I played very badly, and recommended my quitting a profession for which I was not born. His advice, however, was vain; I remained constant to my pipes, and resolved to make them celebrated throughout the universe.

"I went thence to Paris; and I know not how it happened, but I was well received there, and I was thought to possess talents, although I had not made any new acquirements. Astonished at this unexpected success, I was forming the most brilliant expectations, when one of my friends said to me, You must not be too much intoxicated with your success, for in this place moderate abilities only are encouraged;-make hay while the sun shines, for perhaps your fame may on the morrow vanish away like a dream.'

"What he said was true, for the public was, if possible, more suddenly disgusted with me than it had before been delighted. 'Ah! the comical town,' said I, on quitting it, when I found there was nothing more to be gotten; but fortunately I had collected some few crowns in my pocket.

"I was told that the court of the Count of Poitiers was the usual resort of the Troubadours. From time immemorial Troubadours and Minstrels have been brethren; for whilst the VOL. III.

first were chanting their tensons and lays to the sound of their instruments in the Cisalpine provinces, our ancestors were gayly swelling their pipes to the merry dance of the Courante in our marshes of Belgium.

In the hope, therefore, of meeting brethren of the pipe, I set out for Poitiers; and whether I really did possess a certain degree of merit, or whether the Poiterians, not much famed for talents, had not the injustice to exact from others what they were wanting in themselves, I soon acquired a tolerable degree of fame,-became acquainted with several inhabitants of the country, who danced to my music-Was my wife not listening, I could tell you, sir, some humorous adventures that happened to me in that fine country.

"I now began to compose music; and should you ever visit Poitiers, you may hear several of my innocent airs sung in the villages. I believe I should have made my fortune in that province, had not my ruling passion for travelling caused me to leave it. I traversed Languedoc and Provence, where the inhabitants have so much wit, and such eagerness to show it, they never wait to see whether others may not be equally gifted. Afraid of my success in these countries, I went into Gascony; but that was ten times worse. Nothing, however, could equal the petulance of the people of Biscay, whither I next directed my steps; but I soon fled from a country where every one seemed bitten by a tarantula. I began to breathe in Arragon. Here, said I to myself, is a wise people, who are never too much hurried to act or talk. I almost thought myself in my native country; but I did not add to my riches there.

"I heard great talk of Barcelona, where every one, even a player on the bagpipes, could make his fortune. I went thither, and began to blow away on my pipes at the neat tipplinghouses in the suburbs of this capital of Catalonia. One day, while I was playing to brilliant company of both sexes, and they amusing themselves in dancing, the lady whom you see by my side, hearing me utter some words in bad French (see how wonderful is the love of one's country), felt for me an instanteous passion, at least so she has assured me since. For my part, sir, I no way shared her flame, for 4 P

the lady was scarce handsomer then than now, when she can count half a century; but charmed and most grateful to see a woman in love with me, which had never happened to me before, I told her that I should be extremely sorry she should consume herself in vain for my bright eyes, and that since she would absolutely have my hand, I could not have the cruelty to refuse it to her. She assured me that her birth was above the common -that her family, originally from Berny, still were held in great consideration at Châteauroux. But, sir, the privilege of a traveller is well known in regard to truth, and I soon discovered that the lady had taken advantage of my youth."

At these words the old woman interrupted her husband, who was too discourteous for a Minstrel.-" Do you hear this wretched Flemish bagpiper, who dares to insult a woman whose sole misfortune has been caused by her weakness in marrying him? Accursed be the fatal moment when I first thought of fixing on such a husband. If you knew, sir, all the rambles I have been forced to make with this wild fellow- "Softly, madam, if you please, replied the Minstrel, it belongs to me to relate them to the gentleman. When I had married madam," continued he, "it was necessary that my pipes should furnish us with subsistence for both. I quitted Catalonia, where I gained but little, and conducted my lady to Toledo, where I formed for her a handsome establishment. Had she not been so extravagant in that town, and had she not unexpectedly made me father of that girl there, I should have become the richest musician in both Castiles. But in short, every thing may be expected in a married state. Do not, however, suppose, sir, that I was angry with my wife on this accountThanks to Heaven for having given me a sweet temper-She might have done much worse before I should have found fault with her. Events will prove what I have said: for instance, examine the features of these young nut-crackers, and tell me, on your honour, if you can discover any likeness between their faces and mine. That, however, makes no difference to me-here they are, and I love them just the same as if they were my own blood. When I perceived them

coming into life, although I had no hand in it, I swelled my bagpipe the merrier, to gain where with to support them, and to make a stand against our creditors."

Here the wife interrupted this indiscreet babbler.-"Have you not sufficiently stunned the gentleman with your impertinences? and do you forget that we have not tasted a morsel all this day, while you hear the bell at the neighbouring monastery ring for evening prayers?"

"You are in the right,” replied the docile Minstrel, "let us go and breakfast with the money this generous gentleman has just given me,-sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,—we may possibly find, before night, some other charitable person not invincible to the charms of music."

"You may keep your money in your pocket," replied the Cambresian, "the monastery, whose bell you now hear, is Vaucelles, where I have some friends; let us go thither together, and we shall be well received, for the pious children of St Bernard, to whom the convent belongs, are famous for their hospitality."

The Minstrel takes up his pilgrim's staff, slings his pipes on his back, and offers his arm to his wife, who accom panies him limping and scolding; the two boys run before them like two young greyhounds; the girl is silent and sighs; and thus the Cambresian conducts the limping caravan to the monastery.

Part Second.

HAPPY were the pilgrims of good old times, who, when worn down with fatigue and hunger, on discovering the towers of a monastery, entered instantly its gates, and were received as part of the family. It is said that great changes have since happened, and that convents are not now so charitably inclined; this may, perhaps, be caused by pilgrims not being so worthy and good as in old times.

However this may be, our Minstrel met with a favourable reception; for the Lord Abbot, having noticed the company from his narrow painted window, descended the stair-case, and met at the bottom of it his nephew. He, the young Cambresian, had the honour so to be. He presented to his uncle his vagabond companions, who