Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

out of doors on cold nights, beatings from the
"aggravated" cooks, overpettings of children,
(how should we like to be squeezed and pulled
about in that manner by some great patroniz-
ing giants?) and last, not least, horrible merci-
less tramples of unconscious human feet and
unfeeling legs of chairs. Elegance, comfort,
and security seem the order of the day on all
sides, and you are going to sit down to dinner,
or to music, or to take tea, when all of a sudden
the cat gives a squall as if she was mashed; and
you are not sure that the fact is otherwise. Yet
she gets in the way again, as before; and dares
all the feet and mahogany in the room. Beau-
tiful present sufficingness of a cat's imagina-
tion! Confined to the snug circle of her own
sides, and the two next inches of rug or carpet.
adlands.

ing with which the action is accompanied, and
which seems indicative of a like comfort to
Pussy's mouth. Her tongue is thin, and can
make a spoon of itself. This, however, is
common to other quadrupeds with the cat, and
does not, therefore, more particularly belong
to our feline consideration. Not so the elec-
tricity of its coat, which gives out sparks under
the hand; its passion for the herb valerian (did
the reader ever see one roll in it? it is a mad
sight) and other singular delicacies of nature,
among which perhaps is to be reckoned its
taste for fish, a creature with whose element it
has so little to do, that it is supposed even to
abhor it; though lately we read somewhere of
a swimming cat, that used to fish for itself.
And this reminds us of an exquisite anecdote
of dear, dogmatic, diseased, thoughtful, surly,
charitable Johnson, who would go out of doors
himself, and buy oysters for his cat, because
his black servant was too proud to do it! Not
that we condemn the black, in those enslaving,troly
unliberating days. He had a right to the mis-
take, though we should have thought better of
him had he seen farther, and subjected his pride
to affection for such a master. But Johnson's
true practical delicacy in the matter is beauti-
ful. Be assured that he thought nothing of
"condescension" in it, or of being eccentric.
He was singular in some things, because he
could not help it. But he hated eccentricity.
No: in his best moments he felt himself simply
to be a man, and a good man too, though a
frail, one that in virtue as well as humility,
and in a knowledge of his ignorance as well as
his wisdom, was desirous of being a Christian
philosopher; and accordingly he went out, and
bought food for his hungry cat, because his
poor negro was too proud to do it, and there
was nobody else in the way whom he had a
right to ask. What must anybody that saw
him have thought, as he turned up Bolt-court!
But doubtless he went as secretly as possible,
-that is to say, if he considered the thing at
all. His friend Garrick could not have done as
much! He was too grand, and on the great
"stage" of life. Goldsmith could; but he
would hardly have thought of it. Beauclerc
might; but he would have thought it neces-
sary to excuse it with a jest or a wager, or
some such thing. Sir Joshua Reynolds, with
his fashionable, fine-lady-painting hand, would
certainly have shrunk from it. Burke would
have reasoned himself into its propriety, but he
would have reasoned himself out again.
Gibbon! Imagine its being put into the head
of Gibbon!! He and his bag-wig would have
started with all the horror of a gentleman-
usher; and he would have rung the bell for
the cook's-deputy's-under-assistant-errand-boy.

Cats at firesides live luxuriously, and are the picture of comfort; but lest they should not bear their portion of trouble in this world, they have the drawbacks of being liable to be shut

PUT UP A PICTURE IN YOUR
CROOM.

MAY we exhort such of our readers as have
no pictures hanging in their room, to put one
up immediately? we mean in their principal
sitting-room ;-in all their rooms, if possible,
but, at all events, in that one. No matter how
costly, or the reverse, provided they see some-
thing in it, and it gives them a profitable or
pleasant thought. Some may allege that they
have "no taste for pictures;" but they have
a taste for objects to be found in pictures,-for
trees, for landscapes, for human beauty, for
scenes of life; or, if not for all these, yet
surely for some one of them; and it is highly
useful for the human mind to give itself helps
towards taking an interest in things apart
from its immediate cares or desires.
serve to refresh us for their better conquest
or endurance; to render sorrow unselfish; to
remind us that we ourselves, or our own per-
sonal wishes, are not the only objects in the
world; to instruct and elevate us, and put us
in a fairer way of realizing the good opinions
which we would all fain entertain of ourselves,
and in some measure do; to make us compare
notes with other individuals, and with nature
at large, and correct our infirmities at their
mirror by modesty and reflection; in short,
even the admiration of a picture is a kind of
religion, or additional tie on our consciences,
and rebinding of us, (for such is the meaning of
the word religion) to the greatness and good-
ness of nature.

They

Mr. Hazlitt has said somewhere, of the portrait of a beautiful female with a noble countenance, that it seems as if an unhandsome action would be impossible in its presence. It is not so much for restraint's sake, as for the sake of diffusiveness of heart, or the going out of ourselves, that we would recommend pictures; but, among other advantages, this also, of reminding us of our duties, would doubtless be one; and if reminded with

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

charity, the effect, though perhaps small in most instances, would still be something. We have read of a Catholic money-lender, who, when he was going to cheat a customer, always drew a veil over the portrait of his favourite Saint. Here was a favourite vice, far more influential than the favourite Saint; and yet we are of opinion that the moneylender was better for the Saint than he would have been without him. It left him faith in something; he was better for it in the intervals; he would have treated his daughter the better for it, or his servant, or his dog. There was a bit of heaven in his room,-a sun-beam to shine into a corner of his heart, however he may have shut the window against it, when heaven was not to look on.

The companionship of anything greater or better than ourselves must do us good, unless we are destitute of all modesty or patience. And a picture is a companion, and the next thing to the presence of what it represents. We may live in the thick of a city, for instance, and can seldom go out, and "feed" ourselves

With pleasure of the breathing fields;

but we can put up a picture of the fields before us, and, as we get used to it, we shall find it the next thing to seeing the fields at a distance. For every picture is a kind of window, which supplies us with a fine sight; and many a thick, unpierced wall thus lets us into the studies of the greatest men, and the most beautiful scenes of nature. By living with pictures we learn to "read" them,-to see into every nook and corner of a landscape, and every feature of the mind; and it is impossible to be in the habit of these perusals, or even of being vaguely conscious of the presence of the good and beautiful, and considering them as belonging to us, or forming a part of our common-places, without being, at the very least, less subject to the disadvantages arising from having no such thoughts at all.

And it is so easy to square the picture to one's aspirations, or professions, or the powers of one's pocket. For, as to resolving to have no picture at all in one's room, unless we could have it costly, and finely painted, and finely framed, that would be a mistake so vulgar, that we trust no reader of any decent publication now-a-days could fall into it. The greatest knave or simpleton in England, provided he is rich, can procure one of the finest paintings in the world to-morrow, and know nothing about it when he has got it; but to feel the beauties of a work of art, or to be capable of being led to feel them, is a gift which often falls to the lot of the poorest; and this is what Raphael or Titian desired in those who looked at their pictures. All the rest is taking the clothes for the man. Now it so happens, that the cheapest engravings, though they cannot

come up to the merits of the originals, often contain no mean portion or shadow of them; and when we speak of putting pictures up in a room, we use the word "picture" in the child's sense, meaning any kind of graphic representation, oil, water-colour, copper-plate, drawing, or wood-cut. And any one of these is worth putting up in your room, provided you have mind enough to get a pleasure from it. Even a frame is not necessary, if you cannot afford it. Better put up a rough, varnished engraving, than none at all, or pin, or stick up, any engraving whatsoever, at the hazard of its growing never so dirty. You will keep it as clean as you can, and for as long a time; and as for the rest, it is better to have a good memorandum before you, and get a fresh one when you are able, than to have none at all, or even to keep it clean in a portfolio. How should you like to keep your own heart in a portfolio, or lock your friend up in another room? We are no friends to port. folios, except where they contain more prints than can be hung up. The more, in that case, the better.

Our readers have seen in all parts of the country, over the doors of public-houses, "Perkins and Co.'s Entire." This Perkins, who died wealthy a few years ago, was not a mere brewer or rich man. He had been headclerk to Thrale, the friend of Dr. Johnson; and, during his clerkship, the Doctor happening to go into his counting-house, saw a portrait of himself (Johnson) hanging up in it. "How is this, Sir?" inquired Johnson. "Sir," said Perkins, "I was resolved that my room should have had one great man in it." "A very pretty compliment," returned the gratified moralist," and I believe you mean it sincerely."

Mr. Perkins did not thrive the worse for having the portrait of Johnson in his euntinghotse. People are in general quite enough inclined to look after the interests of " number one;" but they make a poor business of it, rich as they may become, unless they include a power of forgetting it in behalf of number two; that is to say, of some one person, or thing, besides themselves, able to divert them from mere self-seeking. It is not uncommon to see one solitary portrait in a lawyer's office, and that portrait, a lawyer's, generally some judge. It is better than none. Anything is better than the poor, small unit of a man's selfish self, even if it be but the next thing to it. And there is the cost of the engraving and frame. Sometimes there is more; for these professional prints, especially when alone, are meant to imply, that the possessor is a shrewd, industrious, proper lawyer, who sticks to his calling, and wastes his time in "no nonsense;" and this ostentation of business is in some instances a cover for idleness or disgust, or a blind for a father or rich uncle. Now it would be better, we think, to have two pictures instead of oue,

the judge's by all means, for the professional part of the gentleman's soul,-and some one other picture, to show his client that he is a man as well as a lawyer, and has an eye to the world outside of him, as well as to his own; far as men come from that world to consult him, and generally think their cases just in the eyes of common sense as well as law, they like to see that he has some sympathies as well as cunning.

Upon these grounds, it would be well for men of other callings, if they acted in a similar way. The young merchant should reasonably have a portrait of some eminent merchant before his eyes, with some other, not far off, to hinder him from acknowledging no merit but in riches. Or he might select a merchant of such a character as could serve both uses,Sir Thomas Gresham, for instance, who encouraged knowledge as well as money-getting,or Lorenzo de Medici, the princely merchant of Italy. So with regard to clergymen, to professions of all sorts, and to trade. The hosier, in honour of his calling, might set up Defoe, who was one of that trade, as well as author of Robinson Crusoe; the bookseller, may the footman, Dodsley, who was at one time a footman as well as a bookseller and author, and behaved excellently under all characters; and the tailor might baulk petty animadversions on his trade, by having a portrait, or one of the many admirable works, of the great Annibal Caracci, who was a tailor's son. It would be advisable, in general, to add a landscape, if possible, for reasons already intimated; but a picture of some sort we hold to be almost indispensably necessary towards doing justice to the habitation of every one who is capable of reflection and improvement. The print-shops, the bookstalls, the portfolios containing etchings and engravings at a penny or twopence a-piece (often superior to plates charged twenty times as much), and lastly, the engravings that make their way into the shop-windows, out of the Annuals of the past season, and that are to be had for almost as little, will furnish the ingenuous reader of this article with an infinite store to choose from; and if he is as good-natured as he is sensible, we will venture to whisper into his ear, that we should take it as a personal kindness of him, and hope he would consider us as a friend assisting him in putting it up.

XLI.-A GENTLEMAN-SAINT.

BEAUTIES OF ST. FRANCIS DE SALES.

LOOKING Over the catalogue, the other day, of Mr. Cawthorn's excellent circulating library (which has the books it professes to have,-a rare virtue in such establishments) our curiosity was raised by a volume intitled" Beauties of St.

Francis de Sales." We sent for it, and found we had started so delicious a saint, that we vowed we must make him known to our readers. He is a true godsend, a man of men, a real quintessence of Christian charity and shrewd sense withal (things not only far from incompatible, but thoroughly amalgamable); in short, a man as sensible as Dr. Johnson, with all the piety and patience which the Doctor desired to have, all the lowliness and kind fellowship which it would have puzzled him to behold in a prelate, and all the delicacy and true breeding which would have transported him. Like Fenelon, he was a sort of angel of a gentleman, a species of phoenix which, we really must say, the French Church seems to have produced beyond any other. Not that we undervalue the Hookers and Jewels, and other primitive excellences of our own. Deeply do we love and venerate them. But we like to see a human being develop all the humanities of which he is capable, thoseof outward as well as inward elegance not excepted; not indeed in the inconsistent and foppish shape of a Sir Charles Grandison (who comes hushing upon us with insinuations of equal perfection in dancing and the decalogue, with soft deprecations of our astonishment, and all sorts of equivocal worldly accomplishments, which the author has furnished him with, on purpose to keep his piety safeswordsmanship, for one) but in whatsoever, being the true spirit of a gentleman, manifests itself outwardly in consequence, shaping the movements of the commonest and most superficial parts of life to the unaffected elegance of the spirit within, and at the same time refusing no fellowship with honesty of any sort, nor ostentatiously claiming it, but feeling and having it, because of its true, natural, honest heart's blood, and a tendency to relish all things in common with us, " passioned as we."

When a man exhibits this nature, as St. Francis de Sales did, and exhibits it too in the shape of a mortified saint of the Romish Church, a lone lodger, a celibatory, entering into everybody else's wishes and feelings, but denying himself some of the most precious to a being so constituted, we feel proud for the sake of the capabilities of humanity-proud because we belong to a species which we are utterly unable to illustrate so in our own persons-proud, and happy, and hopeful that if one human being can do so much, thousands, nay all, by like opportunities, and a like loving breeding, may ultimately do, not indeed the same, but enough-enough for themselves, and enough for the like exalted natures, too, who have the luck to live in such times.

Even if such times are not to come, but are merely among the fancies or necessary activities of the human mind, then still we are grateful for the vision by the way, and, above all, for the exquisite real fellowship.

undertook the reformation of his diocese, where piety and virtue soon flourished through his zeal he restored regularity in the monas

We need not deprecate any ill construction of our use of the term "gentleman saint." In some sort, we do confess, we use it with a delighted smile on our face, astonished to startteries, and instituted the order of the Visitasuch a phenomenon in high life; but while the conversational sense of the word is included, we claim for it, as we have explained, the very largest and truest sense. One of our brave old English dramatists, brave because his humanity misgave him in nothing, dared to call the divinest of beings that have trod the earth

"The first true gentleman that ever breathed." Here is another (at far distance) of the same heraldry, his shield

"heart shaped, and vermeil dyed." Fenelon was another, but not so active or persuasive as De Sales. St. Vincent de Paul, if we mistake not, the founder of the Sisters of Charity, was a fourth. So, we believe, was St. Thomas Aquinas. So, perhaps, was Jeremy Taylor, and certainly Berkeley-the latter, the more unquestionably of the two, because he was the more active in doing good, and mani- | festly did not care twopence for honours and profits, compared with the chance of benefiting his fellow-creatures. At one time, for this purpose, he petitioned to give up his preferments! Swift has a pleasant passage in furtherance of this object, in which he tells the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, that Dr. Berkeley will be miserable in case he is not allowed to give up some hundreds a year.

We will first give the "General Biographical Dictionary" account of St. Francis de Sales, and follow it with a notice of the book before us.

"St. Francis de Sales was born at the Castle of Sales, in the diocese of Geneva, August 21, 1567. He descended from one of the most ancient and noble families of Savoy. Having taken a doctor of law's degree at Padua, he was first advocate at Chambery, then provost of the church of Geneva at Annecy. Claudius de Granier, his bishop, sent him as a missionary into the valleys of his diocese, to convert the Zuinglians and Calvinists, which he is said to have performed in great numbers, (sic) and his sermons were attended with wonderful success. The bishop of Geneva chose him afterwards for his coadjutor, but was obliged to use authority before he could be persuaded to accept the office. Religious affairs called him afterwards into France, where he was universally esteemed; and Cardinal du Perron said, "There were no heretics whom he could not convince, but M. de Geneva must be employed to convert them." Henry IV., being informed of his merit, made him considerable offers, in hopes of detaining him in France; but he chose rather to return to Savoy, where he arrived in 1602, and found Bishop Granier had died a few days before. St. Francis then

[ocr errors]

tion in 1610, which was confirmed by Paul V., 1618, and of which the Baroness de Chantal, whom he converted by his preaching at Dijon, was the foundress. He also established a congregation of hermits in Chablais, restored ecclesiastical discipline to its ancient vigour, and converted numerous heretics to the faith. At the latter end of 1618, St. Francis was obliged to go again to Paris, with the Cardinal de Savoy, to conclude a marriage between the Prince of Piedmont and Christina of France, second daughter of Henry IV. This princess, herself, chose de Sales for her chief almoner; but he would accept the place only on two conditions; one, that it should not preclude his residing in his diocese; the other, that whenever he did not execute his office, he should not receive the profits of it. These unusual terms the princess was obliged to consent to; and immediately, as if by way of investing him with his office, presented him with a very valuable diamond, saying, 'On condition that you will keep it for my sake. To which he replied, I promise to do so, madam, unless the poor stand in need of it. Returning to Annecy, he continued to visit the sick, relieve those in want, instruct the people, and discharge all the duties of a pious bishop, till 1662; when he died of an apoplexy at Lyons, December 28, aged fifty-six, leaving several religious works, collected in 2 vols. folio. The most known are, the Introduction to a Devout Life,' and 'Philo, or a treatise on the Love of God.' Marsollier has written his life, (2 vols. 12mo,) which was translated into English by Mr. Crathorne, He was canonized in 1665."(Moreri.-Dict. Hist.—Butler.)

[ocr errors]

The writers of this notice do not seem to have been aware, that Camus, Bishop of Bellay, the disciple and friend of St. Francis, wrote a large account of him, "the Beauties" of which the work before us professes to give the public. This English volume is itself a curiosity. It is printed at Barnet, and emanates most likely from some public-spirited enthusiast of the Roman Catholic persuasion, who has thought, not without reason, to sow a good seed in these strange, opinion-conflicting, yet truth-desiring times, when a little genuine Christianity stands a chance of being well received, from whatever quarter it comes. A friend of ours, smitten with love of the book, has applied for a copy at Messrs. Longman's, whose name is in the title page, but is told that they have not one left; so that if the Barnet press do not take Christian pity upon the curious, we know not what is to be done for them, apart from the following extracts; which, however, we take to be quite enough to set any handsome mind upon salutary reflections.

not charitable, proceeds from a charity which is not sincere.' A worthy saying, worthy of being deeply considered and faithfully remembered.

"IT IS BETTER TO REMAIN SILENT THAN SPEAK THE TRUTH ILL-HUMOUREDLY, AND SO SPOIL AN EXCELLENT DISH BY COVERING IT WITH BAD SAUCE.

"I asked St. Francis, if there were no other way by which I might discern from what fountain reproaches flowed. He, whose heart was wrapped up in benevolence, replied, in the true spirit of the great apostle,- When they are made with mildness-mildness is the

Camus, the Boswell of a saint, is himself a curiosity. He was a man of wit and a satirist, and so far (in the latter respect) not very well fitted for ultra Christian aspiration. But he was also an enthusiastic lover of goodness, and of his great seraphical friend; whom he looked up to with all the congregated humilities of a younger age, a real self-knowledge, and an unaffected modesty. He was naturally as hasty in his temperament as St. Francis was the reverse; and was always for getting on too fast, and being angry that others would not be Christian enough; and it is quite delightful to see with what sense and good-sister of love, and inseparable from her. With this humour his teacher reproves him, and sets him in the right way; upon which the young bishop begins over-emulating the older one (for they were both prelates together), trying to imitate his staid manners and deliberate style of preaching; and then St. Francis reproves him again, joking as well as reasoning, and showing how he was spoiling the style peculiar to himself (Camus), with no possibility of getting at the style of another man-the result of his habits and particular turn of mind.

But let the reader see for himself what a nature this man had, - what wisdom with simplicity, what undeviating kindness, what shrewd worldly discernment with unworldly feelings; what capital Johnsonian good sense, and wit too, and illustration, sometimes as familiar as any table-talk could desire, at others in the very depth of the heart of sentiment and poetical grace. Observe also what a proper saint he was for every-day, as well as for holidays, and how he could sit down at table and be an ordinary unaffected gentleman among gentlemen, and dine at less elegant tables at inns, and say a true honest word, with not a syllable of pretence in it, for your hard-working innkeeper,—“ publican,” and, perhaps," sinner," as he was.

"Beautiful are the ceremonies of the church!" said a Roman Catholic prelate, when a great wax-candle was brought before him, stuck full of pieces of gold (his perquisite.) "Beautiful are the ceremonies of the church!" think we, also, though no Roman Catholic, when we hear the organ roll, and the choir voices rising, and see the white wax-candles on the altar, and the dark glowing paintings, full of hopeful or sweet-suffering faces. But most truly beautiful, certainly, must they have been, when they had such a man as this St. Francis de Sales ministering at the altar, and making those seraphical visions true, in the shape of an every-day human being. But to our ex

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

idea St. Paul says, She beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. God, who is charity, guides the meek with his counsel, and teaches his ways to the simple. His spirit is not in the hurricane, the foaming cataract, or the tempestuous winds; but in the soft breath of the gentle zephyr. Is mildness come? said the prophet; then are we corrected. I advise you to imitate the good Samaritan, who poured oil and wine into the wounds of the unhappy traveller. You know that in a good salad there should be more oil than vinegar or salt. Be always as mild as you can; a spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrel of vinegar. If you must fall into any extreme, let it be on the side of gentleness. The human mind is so constructed, that it resists rigour, and yields to softness. A mild word quenches anger, as water quenches the rage of fire; and by benignity any soil may be rendered fruitful. Truth, uttered with courtesy, is heaping coals of fire on the head; or, rather, THROWING ROSES IN THE FACE. How can we resist a foe whose weapons are pearls and diamonds? Some fruits, like nuts, are by nature bitter, but rendered sweet by being candied with sugar; such is reproof, bitter till candied with meekness, and preserved with the fire of charity.'

[ocr errors]

"St. Francis always discouraged professions of humility, if they were not very true and very sincere. Such professions,' he said, 'are the very cream, the very essence of pride; the real humble man wishes to be, and not to appear so. Humility is timorous, and starts at her shadow; and so delicate, that if she hears her name pronounced, it endangers her existence. He who blames himself, takes a by-road to praise; and, like the rower, turns his back to the place whither he desires to go. He would be irritated if what he said against himself were believed; but from a principle of pride, he desires to appear humble.'

"I esteemed my friend (resumes excellent Camus) so highly, that all his actions appeared to me perfect. It came into my head that it would be a very good thing to copy his manner of preaching. Do not suppose that I attempted to equal him in the loftiness of his ideas, in the depth of his arguments, in the strength of

« ZurückWeiter »