lute. Many an instance of this kind have I seen; but these people defend themselves with great obstinacy, and have the affrontery to say, that their conduct should be that of every well-bred man. But they do not know what politeness is. It is ridiculous to say politeness requires this practice: every one knows that people inhabiting places (not called large towns), are less polite and polished than those who have had the advantage of a city education. These people salute all their acquaintances with the greatest civility: is not this a sufficient proof, that the conduct I allude to is improper? To state it in another form: politeness is the reverse of the want of it; and, as country people are known to want politeness, hence it follows, that those who wish to be really polite, should let their conduct be exactly the reverse of the country practice. There is another argument which I will offer in favour of the conduct I advocate; and which, though I have not brought it forward first, is not the less weighty. Notwithstand ing the boasted politeness of these would-be well-bred people, if we at tentively observe them, when they are walking with good company, if they meet a humble acquaintance, they will take every possible means to avoid him, by turning aside to observe the curious construction of houses, which they have seen and observed with attention a hundred times; sometimes the trees appear so beautiful, that they cannot forbear gazing on them with rapture; at others, they are obliged to listen attentively to the conversation of the company; and, when no better expedient is at hand, that fleshy projection from the human phiz, vulgarly called the nose, must be cleansed of obstructions; this enables the person reduced to this extremity to conceal his eyes with his handkerchief, as if by accident. But, if all these methods prove unavailing, and their acquaintance meets them in such a manner that they cannot avoid it, they will speak to him indeed, but they will immediately blush, and use some of those common expressions I have mentioned above. Now this ought to convince them that their practice is founded on vulgar principles; for, if it is right, if it is truly polite, why do they blush, and excuse themselves, as they are known to do, and resort to so many petty expedients, to avoid practising their politeness in the company of well-bred people? It is well known that they feel no hesitation in speaking to their humble friends, when they meet them alone and unobserved: they will then address them with the greatest familiarity, because they do not fear being observed by those who disapprove of their conduct. Men have many little vices which they are willing to confess to themselves, or their most intimate friends, while they conceal them from the rest of the world with the utmost care. Young people learn what I have here denominated true politeness with great facility. I have seen many of them so perfect in the art, that they can pass unnoticed those who, but a little time before, were their intimate companions; they can meet them in company, pass an evening with them, and, if they happen to see them the next day, they appear as though they could no longer recognize them. There are, however, not many such proficients; there is a sediment of vulgar prejudice, a little taint of open-hearted civility, generally remaining in the mind, which must ever influence their conduct, and prevent them from ever practising the rules of true politeness with a good grace and unblushing countenance. Those who are more advanced in life are mostly incorrigible offenders; nothing can convince them of the impropriety of practising general politeness; they may be frequently seen conversing familiarly with quite a common man, and afterwards expect to be as well received in good company as before; but even those who compose good company are not willing to affront their seniors by treating them as they merit. Now, taking these things into consideration, I have some thoughts of establishing a school, where true politeness shall be taught in all its branches; among these, bowing and the attendant compliments will be taught with utmost care: the teacher will be careful to give rules, founded on attentive observation, to show how far the head may be lowered in bowing to different people; for instance, the true genteel bow for gentlemen, ditto for ladies of equal rank and consideration in society, ditto for superiors, ditto for inferiors of both sexes, the country nod, with the proper accentation of the homely compliments usual on such occasions, the true Dutch nod, and a number of et cæteras too tedious to mention, which are nevertheless of the greatest importance: but I do not wish to enlarge any further in this place, as those who are desirous of learning further particulars will please to enquire of the Reflector, No. 100,000, in the city of Imagination. VALVERDI. For the Literary Magazine. THE GLEANER. NO. 1. THERE is nothing new under the sun, is an opinion as old as Solomon. This sentence has frequently been passed on literary productions. Many men, in turning over the innumerable works continually issuing from the press, are prompted to exclaim, "There is nothing new here: this, or better than this, on the same subject, was written long ago." This sentence, like all general and indiscriminate assertions, is undoubtedly erroneous. There are certain subjects on which every successive publication is little more than an echo or repetition of former ones. This is very much the case in his torical performances; in compilations or systems on the various branches of science: in these we continually find the same facts, experiments, and deductions, repeated with very little variation even in the phraze or order. But there are many other topics on which some diversity, in different writers, is unavoidable. The difference, indeed, is not always in favour of the last writer; but a difference to some visible extent, provided there be not mere literal transcription, there inevitably must be. The literature of a former age is naturally jostled out of the first place in popular attention by that of the present; hence all former times present, to the common observer, a kind of blank or void. It is only by taking a large and comprehensive view that we are enabled to discover that the literature of some former periods was quite as abundant and diversified, and, in many respects, much more solid and valuable, than that of our own time. England, for example, has been a writing and publishing nation for at least three centuries. If we divide these three hundred years into six equal portions, and inspect with judicious eyes, aided by ample libraries, the literary productions of each period, we shall not be able to decide, as easily as superficial observers imagine, to which of these periods the palm of superior eloquence and wisdom belongs, much less shall we be disposed to give this preference to our own age. There cannot, in my opinion, be a more useful task than to select, and place in a new, inviting, and accessible form, the valuable matter to be found in writers who may be deemed obsolete, whose works have not, for a long time, and probably never again will be honoured with a new edition. In such an undertaking, the great end of novelty is as effectually answered as if every individual sentence or sentiment was minted in the compiler's own brain. What was said two hundred years ago is generally as absolutely new to common readers as what was never before said. This scheme has the additional advantage of being a sort of tribute due to merit. It is mere justice, not only to the living reader, but to the dead author. This task, however, is extremely arduous, nor is it, by any means, my intention to perform it; I mean only to gather into this heap the few valuable ears which others have neglected, which lie scattered in those darksome corners and untrodden paths where my feet may occasionally and accidentally wander. I have neither zeal, opportunity, nor perseverance enough to make very long excursions upon the beaten track. I met this morning with the following passages, on the subject of education, in an author who wrote more than a hundred years ago. This is one of the topics on which more has since been said and published than on any other; yet I suspect, as to plain practical good sense, the voluminous productions of modern times contain nothing equal or superior to this: "The design of learning is either to render a man an agreeable companion to himself, and teach him to support solitude with pleasure, or, if he is not born to an estate, to supply that defect, and furnish him with the means of acquiring one. A person who applies himself to learning with the first view may be said to study for ornament, as he who proposes to himself the second properly studies for use. One does it to raise himself a fortune, the other to set off that which he already possesses. But, as the greater part of mankind are included in the former class, I shall only propose some methods at present for the service of such as expect to advance themselves in the world by their learning: with those it should be a maxim, that many more estates have been acquired by little accomplishments than by extraordinary ones; those qualities which make the greatest figure in the eye of the world not being always the most useful in themselves, or the most advantageous to their owners. "The posts which require men of shining and uncommon parts are so few, that many a great genius goes out of the world without having had an opportunity to exert itself; whereas, persons of ordinary endowments meet with occasions fitted to their parts and capacities, in the daily occurrences of life. "I am acquainted with two persons, who were formerly school-fellows, and have been good friends ever since. One of them was not only thought an impenetrable blockhead at school, but still maintained his reputation at college. The other was the pride of his master, and the most celebrated person in the college of which he was a member. The man of genius is at present a country physician, who, in a circuit of twenty miles, can scarcely glean bread for himself and hay for his horse; while the other, with the bare abilities of a common scrivener, has got an estate of above a hundred thousand pounds. "I fancy, from what I have said, it will almost appear a doubtful case to many a wealthy man, whether or no he ought to wish his son should be a great genius; but this I am sure of, that nothing is more absurd than to give a lad the education of one, whom nature has not favoured with any particular marks of distinction. "The fault, therefore, of our common schools is, that every boy is pushed on to works of genius; whereas, it would be far more advantageous for the greatest part of them to be taught such little practical arts and sciences as do not require any great share of parts to be master of them, and yet may come often into play during the course of a man's life. "There is one particular of use in every station of life, and which, methinks, every master should teach his scholars: I mean the writing of English letters. Instead of perplexing them with Latin epistles, themes, and verses, there might be a punc tual correspondence established between two boys, who might act in any imaginary parts of business, or be allowed sometimes to give a THE GLEANER. range to their own fancies, and communicate to each other whatever trifles they thought fit, provided neither of them ever failed, at the appointed time, to answer his correspondent's letter. "The generality of boys would find themselves more advantaged by this custom, when they come to be men, than by all the Greek and Latin their masters can teach them in seven or eight years. "The want of it is very visible in many learned persons, who, while they are admiring the styles of Demosthenes or Cicero, want phrases to express themselves on the most common occasions. I have seen a letter from one of these Latin orators, which would have been deservedly laughed at by a common attor ney. "Accounts and short-hand are learned with little pains, and very properly come into the number of such arts as I have been here recommending. "I have hitherto chiefly insisted upon these things for such boys as do not appear to have any extraordinary talents, and, consequently, are not qualified for the finer parts of learning; yet I might venture to assert, that a lad of genius has sometimes occasion for these little acquirements, to be, as it were, the forerunners of his parts, and to introduce him into the world. "History is full of examples of persons who, though they have had the largest abilities, have been obliged to insinuate themselves into the favour of great men by these trivial accomplishments; as the complete gentleman, in some of our modern comedies, makes his first advances to his mistress under the disguise of a painter, or a dancing-master. "The difference is, that, in a lad of genius, these are only so many accomplishments, which, in another, are essentials; the one diverts himself with them, the other works at them. In short, I look upon a great genius, with these little additions, in the same light as I regard the grand seignior, who is obliged, by an ex press command in the Alcoran, to learn and practise some handicraft trade: though I need not to have gone for my instance farther than Germany, where several emperors have voluntarily done the same thing. One of them worked in wood; and I have heard there are several handicraft works of his making to be seen at Vienna, so neatly turned, that the best joiner in Europe might safely own them, without any disgrace to his profession.” For the Literary Magazine. THE PLANET SATURN. THERE is not, says Dr. Herschell, any object in the heavens that presents us with such a variety of extraordinary phenomena as the planet Saturn. A magnificent globe, encompassed by a stupendous double ring; attended by seven satellites; ornamented with equatorial belts; compressed at the poles; turning on its axis; mutually eclipsing its ring and satellites, and eclipsed by them; the most distant of the rings also turning on its axis, and the same taking place with the farthest of the satellites; all the parts of the system of Saturn occasionally reflecting light to each other; the rings and moons illuminating the nights of the Saturnian; the globes and satellites enlightening the dark parts of the rings; and the planet and rings throwing back the Sun's beams upon the moons, when they are deprived of them at the time of conjunction. Besides these circumstances, which appear to leave hardly any room for addition, there is yet another singularity which distinguishes the figure of Saturn from that of the other planets. It is flattened at the poles, but the spheroid that would arise from this flattening is modified by some other cause, which Herschell supposes to be the attraction of the ring. It resembles a parallelogram, one side of which is the equa torial, the other the polar diameter, with the four corners rounded off, so as to leave both the equatorial and polar regions flatter than they would be in a regular spheroidical figure. By another observation, in which Dr. Herschell had a good opportunity of comparing Saturn with Jupiter, he found the figure of the two planets to be essentially different. The flattening at the poles and on the equator of Saturn is much greater than on Jupiter, but the curvature at the latitude of from 40° to 48° on Jupiter is less than on Saturn. As the result of another set of observations, Dr. H. supposes the latitude of the greatest curvature to be less than 45 degrees. The eye will also distinguish the difference in the three diameters of Saturn. That which passes though the points of the greatest curvature is the largest, the equatorial the next, and the polar diameter the smallest. ONE of the rarest things in the world is a good translation; not from any intrinsic difficulty in the work, but from the ignorance and negligence of those who usually undertake it. This is particularly true of translation from the French, because the English and French tongues consist almost entirely of the same words, a little varied in the spelling. To change the spelling of the word from French to English is usually called translation; whereas, there is frequently a very wide difference between the two words, notwithstanding the similitude of their orthography. Thus, to give one instance out of a thousand, Scarron's Romance Comique is rendered Comical Romance: the translator thinking his whole business lay in merely new spelling the French word: but comique means not comi cal, but dramatic. There are a great number of words which, having the same derivation, and almost the same orthography, in French and in English, are very liable to be mistaken. I have sometimes thought of making a list of them, for the use of learn ers and translators, who have not the habit of conversation, which alone can set them right. I shall mention a few that happen to occur to me. When the late unfortunate Louis was reduced to ask favours of his mean and barbarous tyrants, the translators that I have seen uniformly turn Je demande into "I demand;" whereas it means " I ask,” or "I request." The term figure, understood in English of the person, in French means the face. The words industrie and “industry," have by no means the same sense; the French word means a quality of the mind; that activity of the body which we call industry has no French substantive that I know of: an industrious man is called un homme laborieux; she is very industrious, elle est bien laborieuse ; their industry rather means " ingenuity," "contrivance ;"as, un chevalier d'industrie, "one who lives by his wits:" a gamester, for example. Extravagance, spelt exactly the same in both languages, is by no means the same word: it is never applied by the French to squandering or expensiveness, but to other imprudences. Quelle extravagance! "What absurdity!" "what madness!" Vous extravaguez! “You rave!" The word intrigue is not so limited in its sense as in English; a person perfectly chaste may be intriguing in their sense of the word. If he can make his way in the world, and extricate himself from difficulties, he is said to be intriguing, without incurring the slightest blame. Large means " wide," and largeur" width," and not bigness, like our "large." |